#he doesn't actually remember the several hours that lead up to this moment

[geaibleu89]

I guess you can post darker stuff on here as long as you put a mature warning on it so I'll give that another try

Post under the cut, tw for blood, gore, graphic depiction of gunshot wounds, implied violence

Doing some darker themed/generally NSFW art for this month, and this is one of the pieces I feel like posting for now 🤷🏻‍♂️

(crossposted to Pillowfort and Pixiv)

[lassieposting]

Concept:

Post-tadpole, Tav offers to help Astarion find a way to walk in the sun again, and she starts by going to different libraries and repositories and archives around the city to look for books that might be relevant. Astarion, obviously, has to stay in the rental room with the shutters closed during the daytime, so he can't come with her.

At some point, this takes her up to the posh part of the city, where the fancy ✨ scholarly ✨ archive is. She remembers most of the walk - it's not too far from the graveyard Astarion took her to, in the neighbourhood where he once used to live.

And like, it's never actually occurred to her that he could still have Actual Blood Relatives still living? It's not a topic she's ever thought to raise with him. But she has to sign in and out of the archive, and she just happens to notice the name three or four lines above hers: an initial and a surname she recognises.

Ancunín.

The same name from Astarion's gravestone.

A parent? A sibling?

A niece or nephew Astarion has never even met?

Thus begins a secondary quest of trying to reunite a broken family. Astarion is willing enough to talk about the few memories he still has of the thirty-nine years he had with his family before turning - a drop in the ocean compared to the 200 years spent suffering under Cazador - but he shuts down when she nudges him towards the likelihood that Mr & Mrs Ancunín are still alive. He retreats back behind the selfish, catty survivalist he was when she first met him and claims he has no interest in ever reconnecting. The pain in every clipped syllable says drop it, so she does.

But then he asks her, very quietly, several days later, what the initial was. He doesn't really react when she tells him - there's no obvious recognition, and he doesn't ask any follow-up questions or try to discuss it further. He just goes back to his book. She watches him out of the corner of her eye though, as she skim-reads her own giant tome of magical artifacts. A very long time goes by before she sees him turn a page.

For a good long while, the family issue gets put firmly on the back burner. They have other shit going on. Sometimes, it's following promising leads on a possible workaround for Astarion's sunlight allergy. Other times, it's the kind of ugly, ragged-edged breakdown that so often follows a period of relative safety and stability after a major trauma. He's been running in survival mode for two centuries, and now he's finally starting to feel secure enough for the rest of his mind to come back online, and all the trauma he couldn't handle at the time, all the pain and fear and tangled emotions survival mode was protecting him from, is catching up to him. During those sporadic episodes, trying to keep him from falling apart is her top priority and, well, time gets away from them and by the time he brings up his parents again, months or more have gone by, and they have a fairly good idea of what artifact of daywalking they need to find.

By the time it comes to actually meeting with them, still more months have passed, and they have already found it.

It's horrible, and heartwarming, and heartbreaking, and healing, and hurting, and so many other conflicting things that for a while - a long while - Tav doesn't know whether she actually did the right thing encouraging him to reach out to long-lost loved ones. It's a mess of moments that makes her heart ache for a dozen reasons. She finds out that Astarion looks most like his mother, but has his father's nose. She holds him for hours while he shakes and sobs into her shoulder because they never even left the city, they were here the whole time, and they never found him - and he's so angry and full of grief he doesn't know what to do with himself. She accompanies him to the home he was raised in, and the once-familiar surroundings jog memories he thought lost for good - he's glassy-eyed, recounting them to her, but she's fairly sure it's the good kind of glassy-eyed, so she doesn't mention it. She tries to make conversation at family dinner while he stares at his hands in his lap, dissociated, looking even more uncomfortable than she feels, utterly lost in a world that once fit him like a glove. There are a lot of feelings to try and mediate. They are all hurt, all damaged, all afraid, all looking for the ghost of a loved one in the face of a stranger.

But, eventually, there is a day where she overhears Astarion having a conversation with his father, and he sounds like himself - not the persona he puts on in public - and his father laughs at something he says in a way that's entertained rather than awkward. There is a day where his mother reaches out and he doesn't shake his head or step away - he lets her hug him goodbye. They have not slipped back into the graves they crawled out of in each other's lives - they are all very different people now - but they are learning new ways to fit together, and he seems to be pleased about it.

So she thinks, yeah, it was worth it.

[matenrou-fan]

Barbatos going down to his fem! darling

Femreader, teasing, begging, fingering, domBarbatos;;

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

-Surprisingly good at this, and always ready to go down to you, his darling.

-Always so slow in the beginning, kissing your thighs and gently caressing your hips with his soft hands, warming your body up.

-Your taste is so addicting and sweet for him, so he starts with long and sensitive licks, enjoying your little whimpers, as he slowly becomes more hungry and greedy.

-It looks like the more he is savoring you, the more he needs. So be ready for a few rounds before he will be satisfied.

-As much as Barbatos can be so caring and gentle, he also really likes to tease you during this little foreplay, suddenly slowing down when he can see that you're almost on edge. Or maybe suck your clit more rougher, pushing a sensitive spot with his tongue as you entrain him with surprised gasps and heavy moans.

-So yeah.. begging. This amused dark gaze that he gives you while sitting between your thighs making waves of tingles rushing through your body.. He lick his lips so predatory as he whisper in his usual, calm, but quite mocking tone:

"Now, now, darling… I can't hear your beautiful voice properly, so can you repeat what you just said?" - he will NOT continue until you ask him nicely.

-Even if you're a bratty type, Barbatos doesn't mind giving you a good lesson, as his fingertips slowly caressing your folds, touches so light but at the same time so close to your clit.. You can't last more than few minutes in this pleasuring torture, crying and begging for more friction, you ready to do anything..!

-That's where he finally pressed his lips to your trembling pussy again, probably immediately at a fast pace. You moan in a high pitched voice, finally feeling satisfied as you spread your legs wider, but Barbatos grabs them, pulls out of your cunt as suddenly as he pressed before.

"I think I should repeat my little punishment for you several times, so you will definitely remember, darling.." - such was his only reply to your disappointed groans. He chuckled, seeing your blushing face with furrowed brows and little tears of shame, as you whisper quietly, asking for more. He was enjoying this situation quite much..

-When you point this out he will just shrug his shoulders. What are you talking about? After all, his role in life is to be just a servant, and he's here to always serve you, leading in the world of satisfaction.. You just need to be more obedient, darling.

-Also, he just can't help himself, as he absolutely loves to see you so desperately in need, moaning loudly and whining. You throw your head back, lost in pleasure, eyes so cloudy as you can't see anything, only feel like all your nerves are concentrated in your core. The way your spine arches back, the way you weakly grasp sheets in his bed with your trembling arms..He can admire this beautiful view in front of him for hours.

-He doesn't mind doing it in some risky place, maybe in his office in Demon Lord's Castle..

-You sit in his chair, holding the table edge in tight grasp and looking directly at the door, afraid that at any moment Diavolo will come in, searching for his servant.. When his servant, in fact, was sitting under the table, face pressed to your wetness so close as he kept licking and sucking your sensitive spots, even faster and rougher than usual. You let a trembling whimper, feeling as slender and long finger enter inside you, immediately pushing your g spot.

-It's so hard to control your voice, slight taste of metal on your lips as you bite them too much.. You whine, whispering to him to stop being such a tease, but all you get back is another finger in your cunt, as Barbatos keeps sucking your clit and plays with your tight walls.

"What cute little sounds you can make.. Although they will lead you to nothing, as I will not stop.. I actually just want to hear more now.."

-After all, you didn't know that Diavolo was not even in the castle right now and that Barbatos actually locked the door so no one would interrupt your fun. He has big plans for you today, so just sit back and enjoy his service, only for you.

[tarakaybee]

I Was Right (Oxventure Wyrdwood Thoughts)

In the past on this extremely low follower blog of mine, I've talked about how I liked Oxventure for the first few sessions before it deteriorated into unstructured nonsense with no emotional stakes, no story, and no interesting gameplay and I stopped watching after they started to become repetitive, derivative, uninspired and a lot of other mean words. The reason that I fixated on its problems is because I genuinely thought everybody involved was extremely talented, I could vividly imagine a slightly better version that I would've loved, if only they had greater ambitions than just doing gags for six years like they were writing The Beano. I've been thinking on this a lot, but I remember that I quickly emotionally connected with the five player characters in the early campaign and some of the early NPCs, and my villain origin story for my many frustrations with Oxventure was that I felt embarrassed for emotionally investing myself when the campaign progressed and it became clear that there were never going to be any emotional consequences for anything.

I think everybody should play D&D the way that they find fun, even if, no especially if it's a campaign that is being filmed and broadcast, but it irked me that they never engaged with a lot of the fun parts of the game, which are fun and designed specifically to be fun. I'm trying to not sound like I'm gatekeeping, I sincerely believe that they simply never read the books in any amount of detail and never became aware of the interesting parts and would've enjoyed it if they did, because I just don't see how you can be a fan of a game system if you have to remove more than half of the rules to enjoy yourself. I've long held the suspicion that when they started playing they were instructed by Johnny to not worry about understanding all of the rules right away, and the players held the belief for years that the rules were extremely complicated, when they continued to not learn them. Mike in particular makes jokes about how he doesn't understand the rules, like in the lead-up to Orbpocalypse Saga where Johnny explained what spell slots were, Mike made a joke about how the explanation would take several hours because it was so complicated despite the fact that it's literally just a few rows of boxes that you tick off when you spend them, the Paper Mario games have a more complex magic resource system than that and Mike is supposed to be a games journalist.

After not watching the main campaign for several years, I decided to give Oxventure Deadlands a try, and I was surprised that Andy ran a campaign where he was willing to say no sometimes, and sticks to a consistent emotional tone without sacrificing the all-important comedy, and I said on this very blog that if Johnny were to run a campaign in this style where the players were willing to take things seriously that would be absolutely perfect, because Johnny has established their strong storytelling chops in basically every way possible other than during Oxventure Prime.

And I was right!

They were all capable of the kind of D&D campaign I wanted to see, and thought would be more deep and enriching than just going for the cheapest gags every time, they decided to take that leap and Johnny just casually, offhandedly created one of the all-time best campaign settings in episode one of a new campaign. Oxventure Wyrdwood, based on only one episode is absolutely brilliant and everything I've wanted out of Oxventure for the past six years, the first time Johnny actually wrote a story in earnest it was so creative, so inspired, so rich with lore, and unlike some seasons of Dimension 20, they did it in a way that was concise.

All the players are great too:

Luke Dob was a seminal moment for me in my experience of the D&D hobby, the simple combination of half-orc and bard was such a brilliant combination that it inspired a five year long campaign in which I played a character inspired by that same combination. Happen is a very fun concept, I always love it when a player mixes and matches classes and backgrounds, Acolyte is an interesting background for a Ranger that gives Happen a lot of fun depth, and I enjoy the Cadence Dice system so far.

Jane I knew that Jane was going to go for the logical opposite of Prudence, I definitely called that Jane would be a Life Domain Cleric months and months ago. What I liked about Willowfine from the offset is that Jane doesn't play her superficially, she isn't just a healer, she is actually, genuinely kind, her first healing action being to save one of the episode's antagonists was a brilliant tone setting moment for the character and the campaign as a whole.

Ellen Like Jane, Ellen made a brilliant choice of playing against type for herself, but I really like that Ellen's way of playing an extremely selfish character is distinct from the way Jane did and has some obvious nuance to it. Prudence was obsessed with violence and evil magic and generally likes amusing herself, whereas Cressida seems to be more interested in her image and personal pride. Related, I don't think I would've called Prudence actually evil, she didn't do that many obviously selfish things when compared to say, Corazon, she was basically just a dramatic goth who likes the aesthetic of evil. In contrast, Cressida has a selfish motivation that is easier to accurately roleplay without becoming a liability to the party.

Andy It was very obvious that there was some secret gimmick to the way Andy was going to go about things and the way things turned out intrigues me greatly. He was the player that surprised me the most, I love the idea that Robin genuinely has a commoner's stat block until the evil side takes over. Aberrant Mind is a fun subclass, and it looks as though he gained Cure Wounds from his Magic Initiate subclass to fit into the witch aesthetic a little more.

Mike With Mike, this is where my one nitpick lies, I don't think Mike is the best roleplayer of the bunch. The fact that Mike doesn't understand extremely basic parts of the rules at this point has long stopped being funny and genuinely just reflects poorly on him. Why does he still not know how proficiency and attack modifiers work? It's literally a sum consisting of adding two single-digit numbers together, and it's a sum that you're supposed to write on your character sheet before playing to eliminate the brainwork of doing it mid-session. And if doing two minutes of homework to prepare your character sheet before playing a two-hour game of D&D is too much, why doesn't he just use D&D Beyond which adds the two numbers together for you? That's exactly how I learned it, and also the fact that I just read the rules recreationally because I thought that they were fun.

I was surprised that he read what Rage actually does, but then Mike gets confused when Johnny doesn't do the maths to half incoming damage for him, despite the fact that it's not Johnny's job to use Mike's character abilities for him. To put this as nicely as possible, I knew Mike was going to choose Barbarian because if you don't like the game system as Mike seems not to, you at least don't have to interact with it much if you choose the class with the fewest abilities possible. Mike seemed to shine the best in Blades in the Dark, which seems to be designed to have as few rolls as reasonably possible.

Roleplay-wise, I think Mike portrayed Lug as different enough from Egbert that I was happy with the character in concept, but like with his other characters, there is no second layer below the obvious quirks that are on the surface like everybody else demonstrated.

Johnny Johnny was always my biggest problem with Oxventure Prime, I found their DM philosophy and storytelling choices completely mystifying. Why when Luke established that Dob was looking for his sister did this plot get resolved offscreen by an NPC? Why when Andy said he was searching for a pirate treasure did Johnny forget about this plot for two real years and have Corazon find the bulk of it offscreen between episodes? Why did Johnny not write a plot or do any worldbuilding the entire first campaign when not having anything set in stone created massive problems in the final story arc when their farewell tour gets cut short because the players can't remember more than one notable location and only two NPCs? Why did Johnny constantly ask the players to roll for things that were not optional, and then when the player rolls low, just ignoring the result and saying they passed?

In this campaign, with a mere few months of doing actual legwork, in Oxventure Wyrdwood, Johnny crafted a beautiful, immersive and unique story setting. In the first boss fight at the end of the first session, the monster was consistently doing enough damage that it could have killed everybody other than Lug in one hit if they didn't fight smart, and fight smart they did, it made perfect sense for the monster to quickly go down when the other members of the Folkmoot arrived. There were a couple of rules-aberrations, but my problem isn't getting rules wrong, it's not using game mechanics and everybody was definitely engaging more with the gameplay and not treating it like an unwanted obligation this time I feel.

In addition, I love the "Magic Will Have Its Due" mechanic, it's not just cool sounding words that Johnny plastered over the marketing, it's an intrinsic part of the story, and therefore an intrinsic part of the gameplay. This is probably one of the only ways you could outright play anything resembling a horror campaign in D&D, where there isn't so much a consistent looming threat and the stakes take a different form. The main horror module in 5E, Curse of Strahd, is a very well designed story and game experiences, but the horror aspect pretty much doesn't exist in the gameplay after the players level up a few times.

I was cautiously optimistic before this first session, but now I'm actively excited in a way that I haven't been since Critical Role campaign two. I desperately hope this quality remains consistent throughout the remainder of this story. Also, I'm glad the episodes have proper titles and not things like "Water Wonderful World" or whatever.

[iamnmbr3]

💚📖 (hopefully this is the correct book emoji for the task)

💚: What does everyone else get wrong about your favorite character?

I have a number of faves but one thing that I wish people remembered about Draco is that he was initially excited to be a Death Eater although he quickly changed his mind when confronted by the reality of it and went on to ultimately renounce his blood purest views. This arc is much less compelling if he didn't initially make a genuinely bad and flawed decision. Yeah sure the whole thing was meant to be a punishment from the start, but he didn't realize that.

📖: If you had to remove one book from the series, which would you choose?

Book 7. I mean, obviously I wouldn't want the series to end without a climax. But if we could just swap the book 7 we got out for a different one that would be great. Book 7 has some awesome moments I really like, but it also feels much more sloppily written than previous books and has several gaping plot holes and ooc moments that just feel super lazy. It also fails to deliver on key plotlines that just get dropped and doesn't feel as intricately put together as previous books in the sense that there's a lot of "this happened and then that happened" with litle reread value imh.

I mean things like suddenly people can be their own Secret Keeper even though that means the whole series shouldn't have happened because Lily or James could have been their own Secret Keeper. It also means that Tom Riddle could have protected all his Horcruxes in this way without having to involve another person since he could have been his own secret keeper. And did JK Rowling forget that Harry can cook? Seems like it! Also the way wandlore is presented feels so last minute. How come no one lost mastery of their own wand in any other books if wandlore works as simply as it is presented instead of being a lot more complex and nebulous? A lot of invented swearwords that never appeared in previous books also suddenly show up in book 7, which feels jarring. The mistreatment of nonhuman creatures was built up a lot in books 4 and 5 but then it gets dropped. No deals with the goblins or giants to grant them more rights. No House Elf liberation or moment when characters other than Hermione acknowledge that slavery is bad actually.

Also, I was so disappointed by how the Horcrux hunt turned into an afterthought. The cave had impressive and formidable defenses that you needed a lot of expertise in magic to circumvent. The ring was so strongly protected that destroying it lead to Dumbledore's death. The diadem meanwhile is just...sitting on a heap of junk in the Room of Requirement. IT'S NOT EVEN IN A BOX! It's less protected than the average cheap piece of jewelry which most people at least put away in a drawer or something. And this is a priceless artifact that also contains a soul shard. Why doesn't it have a curse on it that kills you if you touch it? It's like JKR got tired of the Horcrux thing and wanted to get through that as fast as possible to focus on the Hallows.

Instead of endless camping why couldn't we have had high stakes efforts to figure out a way to access difficult to retrieve Horcruxes and/or more involvement in the wider wizarding war that should have been going on instead of things being mostly business as usual and/or maybe a longer term operation at the ministry that lasted a while where they were undercover there for days or weeks rather than hours and/or more visions of what the Death Eaters were up to via Harry's connection and/or maybe Harry infiltrating Tom's mind more to try to steal info about the Horcruxes (thus making their connection critical to Harry being able to defeat him) potentially at the risk of strengthening the Horcrux that is within him.

Anything other than camping and drama over not having enough food when it is literally stated they could just steal a whole bunch of stuff from a grocery store and replicate it (which means it wouldn't even be stealing because they could leave the original food there).

[krikeymate]

Tara getting drunk at a party and refusing to leave when Sam comes to get her, so Sam just lifts her over her shoulder and walks her home while lecturing her

The boy Tara's dancing with is leaning in for a kiss when he's intercepted by a palm to the face and thrown bodily backwards by his head.

"Absolutely not, she's drunk. Tara, it's time to go," says the interloper.

Sam sounds pissed, and rightfully so. Studying in the library her ass. Not that she had believed her in the slightest when she gave the explanation for where she was going. Sam's heard all the lies under the sun, and used most of them herself, and Tara's never been able to lie to her, no matter what she might think.

Sam gave her an hour before she followed after her - she wonders if her sister remembers that she has a family tracker on her phone or if she just doesn't care (there's also the expensive little device hidden inside the keychain she bought her, but Tara definitely doesn't know about that one), and another 45 minutes skulking around the edges of the party watching her sister get steadily more hammered. Contrary to what certain people - her sister - might believe, Sam doesn't want to keep her locked away in her room for a fun-free life of confinement, she just wants her to be safe. And Tara doesn't seem to know how to be safe right now, so Sam has to do it for her.

Party safety rules:

Stay with your friends - are Chad and Mindy even here?

Don't get too drunk - failed.

Don't fall into the arms of boys whilst drunk who want to lead you upstairs and take advantage of you - Tara's really bad at this actually, and she wonders why Sam doesn't want her going to these things.

So Sam swings Tara around by her shoulder and tries to lead her away. Except her stubborn little sister, swaying on her feet and squinting at her, plants her feet and stays where she is. Her drunk little pout is adorable - NO! You're mad at her! Stay! Mad!

She tries to be authoritative as she tells her again, "Tara, we're going." Her sister either ignores her or just doesn't understand, and really it could be either at this point. Then mr-grinds-on-drunk-girls gets back up and thinks he can square up to Sam. She wouldn't be intimidated even if she wasn't several inches bigger in height and arms.

He tries to give her a I'm-a-hard-man routine, which Sam ignores in favour of observing her sister. She's rubbing at her face and when her eyes meet Sam's again, they're a little clearer, and shining with mulishness. Oh, she's not going to make this easy for her, but when does she ever. She kind of loves that about her. She usually prefers it when she's using it to push Sam into being a better person and less when she's using it to be a brat, but you have to take the bad with the good, Sam supposes.

She pushes the boy away from her, continuing to ignore him as he splutters in indignation, and walks up to her sister until there's no space between them. "Fun's over."

"You can't tell me what to do!"

Sam manages to hold back the laugh that threatens to escape at the juvenile response, but she can't prevent the smile. The whine in her sister's tone takes her back to their childhood. Tara's not actually mad at her for interrupting... but she probably will be in a moment.

Sam steps back and bends down, grabbing her sister by the waist and hoisting her over her shoulder. "SAM, what that fuck!" Tara doesn't sound very amused, which is a shame, because she's finding this pretty fun herself. She ignores the way people around them are staring as she marches out of the house with her fuming little sister on her shoulder.

[cr1mson5returns]

Personal under the cut. I'm just feeling many Things.

I had an appointment today at a charity/non-profit health clinic. I've been struggling to get my medical and psychiatric needs met for several months, since I'm currently uninsured. Since it was my first appointment there, I had to fill out some new patient paperwork - demographic information and contact information, the works, including an emergency contact.

And I hesitated, because...traditionally I've always put my dad in that space as my emergency contact. When I was a kid, he traveled a lot for work, and so it was smarter to put down my mom because she was more likely to be in town. But as I got older, I started putting down my dad, because he was more likely to have a level head about the situation, especially if it was anything self-inflicted. But today, sitting in that clinic, I couldn't bring myself to put down my dad's information. I just didn't feel comfortable with the idea. So I put in a friend's instead, even though I hadn't asked him beforehand if I could, because he's one of the few people I have local anymore who could reasonably show up in case of an emergency.

I'll concede that if it was life or death and truly very serious, I'd at least want my parents to know where I was, if not what happened to me. But anything less than "your daughter will literally die in 24 hours or less" I don't really want them to know about. I stopped allowing them access to my medical records when I moved out, because things had gotten so toxic as a result of me coming out. I didn't want them to have information they could potentially use against me. I just didn't have the strength to unpack that revelation back then.

It felt really strange to make that choice after so long of hearing "they're your parents, they deserve to know" on loop in my head. But the reality is that biological proximity to me doesn't mean they deserve anything from me. Not after the way they treated me, not after everything that happened to me. I didn't want my dad to walk me down the aisle at my wedding in 2020 because I felt like he would do it out of a sense of obligation, not because he loved me. I disinvited them because of how awful they were about everything leading up to the wedding. When I found out a relative had given them the livestream link, I was outraged. I hadn't wanted them to have access to that moment they didn't really care about. That they never even publicly acknowledged after it happened.

There's a part of me that feels like I'm giving up on my family by maintaining this no-contact state of being. Many different people have emphasized their feeling that I should be open to the idea of reinstating contact one day. But the thing is...I don't think my family deserves it. I don't think it'll ever be worth the anxiety of wondering if they've really changed, or the anticipation of the terrible treatment happening again. I don't think I could handle the idea that I'd fold back in just to have to exit once more. I can't imagine a world where they're willing to change their behavior. They loved the idea of who I was more than who I actually was, let alone who I am now. Sometimes I'm crippled with this fear that they'll mail me something to my old address, and it'll get forwarded to where I currently live. But then I remember that they never recalled my address the same way they did my oldest sister's, and they'd have to actually miss me to mail me something. Even if they did mail me something, I'd probably just throw it away. I can't hurt myself like that anymore. I can't go back to those places and mental spaces and all the things that kept me under that abuse for years.

Still, there's a part of me that craves that chaotic feeling of wondering if I'll ever be good enough for them, so I might as well try again because it might change this time! They might actually love me and be proud of me for who I am this time! But it never changes. I was always hurting myself with those efforts. It has to stop. Even when it's new and scary.

So I have a new emergency contact for the first time in my life.

[preaching-to-the-fire]

Preaching to the Fire (HH Adam x OC)

Chapter 3 - Hellbirth

Masterpost (info, tags, index) | [~2 100 words]

When Adam wakes up, he doesn’t know how long he’s been out. He knows one thing though : he wasn’t naked when he fell asleep.

He sits bolt upright with a jolt and reels as blood rushes back to his head. He presses a palm there and winces: his fingers hit a bump above his forehead. He must’ve taken quite a blow in the head. Lifting a corner of the blanket, he discovers with relief he still has his boxers on, at least. He’d almost find it funny how his first blame, his first shame, is still clinging to him, even now. Eden all over again.

But what he notices most, really, are the large bandages stained with brown spots, taped to his naked chest. For fuck’s sake, he thinks, this is starting to look like the start of a badly-written, thirsty fanfic — and he would know, he’s read all those about him.

He looks around: the same bedroom he was brought in a while ago — hours, days? He can’t tell.

There's a dim light on a night-stand next to him. A lava lamp. Ugh, this place reeks of the 70s. Carpeted floor, red and orange wallpaper walls he can barely see, hidden under layers of posters and shelves crammed full of vinyls. One corner of the room is an outright dumpster, in which he can make out a drumming set, mics, amps, all under years-worth of dust.

He feels weird. Like he’s s ick. But also hungry. No, not hungry, starving . He also feels heavy, so heavy, like he's gained several burgers-worth of weight in his fucking sleep. He gets up.

There are two doors in here. H e walks to open the first one and while doing so notices his wings feel unusually stiff. The door leads to the corridor he remembers from when he first arrived. Actually he can see the lift across the corridor. No hint of anyone's presence, be it the tiny demon he doesn't remember knocking out or the rat-girl who pulled him out of the streets — and into the sewers.

He closes the door and turns around. Fuck, he can't walk a straight line. His wings feel so stiff, it's hard to find his balance this way, not to mention his head feels like it's weighing a ton more than usual. He walks to the other side of the room, where the other door is, and casts a look at the instrumental mess on his way. He notices a few cases that might be guitars'.

The door leads to a bathroom, complete with a bathtub large enough to fit a whole band. But as soon as Adam walks past it, it's before the mirror that he stops.

He probably should be focusing on his many wounds, the fact that he's been all stitched up during his sleep, but to be fair the rest of him is just as alarming, if not more :

His wings. The feathers have blackened, as if burnt, with only golden rims to remind him of their past appearance. He's grown two bulges on each side of his skull that look an awful lot like horns. His ears have grown longer, so much longer and hairier, like that of a bull. His eyes are red. And he realises, the bandages are not just stained brown. They're stained in red blood. His blood.

Despite not responding just moments ago, his wings shiver brutally as he slams his palms on the edge of the sink and lets out a howl. One long crack crosses the mirror.

At the other side of the room, the door bangs open. Valska stands in the door-frame, ready to punch whatever's in sight.

“WHAT’S GOING ON?!”

“WHAT HAPPENED TO ME?!”

Adams stands by the bathroom door, only dressed in boxers, socks and bandages. His black and golden wings rest heavily against each of his shoulders, yet shivering like they want to flap open.

“What the fuck is THIS!" he screams grabbing both his bovine ears. "A--And THIS!!" he continues, now pulling on a wing. "What the-- WHAT THE FUCK!!!"

“Oh, that?”

Valska flattens a clawed hand on her chest, seemingly relieved. "For Freyja's sake, you scared the shit out of me! I thought something was wrong."

She walks up to the bed and puts down a pile of clothes she was holding, while Adam looks at her, horrified.

“Wrong? This isn't wrong enough for you?? What do you call this!!"

The rat demon walks around the bed to face him but keeps their distance, eyeing him, critical.

"Your new hellish form," she says as if it's the most obvious thing in the whole fucking world.

Adam is that close to screaming again. Valska tilts their head and her ears kinda drop.

“Oh maybe I should've brought a cake or something? I haven't celebrated a hellbirth in a while so you must forgive me. Also you killed my chef last night and I can't cook. Man, Pixar are damn liars about rats who can cook."

“Hellbirth-- What the FUCK?” His voice grows dangerously high-pitched. “Why am I like this? How does it stop?"

“Stop?" She tilts her head back up and shakes her head. "It's done already. You can't just stop it. You're a demon now."

Adam lets out a sound that is half a growl and half a laugh. He presses a palm against his forehead and says, low: “I can’t be a demon. I CAN’T be.”

Then he spins around to face them, towering them, having lost all control. Valska takes a step back just in case.

“D’you even KNOW who I am?! WHO made me?” he shouts, not caring about keeping his identity a secret anymore.

Valska brings her hands to her ears, wincing at the noise. “I kno—” But he spins right back around.

“I’m no fucking DEMON. I started mankind! ALL of it! This is all LUCIFER’s fault! That fucking SNAKE and his DUMBASS, rainbow-eating princess—”

“I know—”

“How do I go back to how I was?” he asks spinning back to them.

“… I'm afraid this is quite definitive."

“It CAN’T be.”

Valska snorts. “I can assure you all these years down here have taught me at least this much—”

“You DON’T get it.” His voice is cutting. Helpless, almost. “I am THE man, I was the first human on Earth and first human soul in Heaven, I am on top of everything, the beginning of EVERYTHING, I am--I am—”

His voice cracks.

“But now I'm just..." He glances at the mirror and his scattered reflection: all he sees are red eyes lost in black wings. "I'm hideous."

Valska lets go of her ears and opens her eyes wide in understanding and empathy as she watches the Adam bury his face in his hands. She brings her own before her chest and fidgets before she takes a few steps and rests a claw on his arm.

“Hey. It's alright," they says, their voice soft. Adam looks at her through his fingers. "Most people struggle with their demon form the first few months." She gives him an apologetic smile and shrugs. "But you'll be okay, you'll live. Isn't that the most important?"

Adam doesn't really know what to reply.

“And, hey, if it can help with the dysmorphia…” She hands him the pile of clothes. “Here you go.” On top of the sweatpants and faded t-shirt is--

--his mask.

“Sent my rats to get it.”

And finally it clicks:

“Wait. So you-- you’ve known who I am all along?”

Valska flashes a smile and lifts their chin, obviously proud.

“These rat brains are more developed than what they seem.”

He doesn’t smile. He looks down at the mask then back at them.

“… Why didn’t you kill me?”

She laughs as if she doesn’t quite understand. “You don’t know who I am?” she questions, shaking her head, voice stern, smile threatening him to give her a good answer.

“Uhhh I should?”

Her hair ruffles just a bit.

“Flattering. Nevermind.”

He lifts his mask to his face : half of it, the half Lucifer smashed with a single punch, has been glued back together with yellow glue, but the screen is unresponsive, black and silent instead. The other half is still working.

He looks down at them, wants to say something but they’re already talking:

“I always say, there ain’t nothing a good meal can’t fix.” And they hols a finger up. Then she looks at him. “Should I, uh, order anything for you while you change?”

Adam thinks. He vaguely remembers he’s hungry. He looks down at his mask. Shrugs.

"Alright," she lets out. "Pizza it is then."

She heads for the door and as she's about to cross it, she briefly glances back. The fallen angel seems... unlike himself, to say the least. Her ears drop a little as she realises she has nothing to say to cheer him up. She leaves the room.

Meanwhile, Adam notices small specks of golden blood still stain the rim of his mask. A sick feeling makes his stomach churn.

Outside, walking through the corridors, Valska takes her phone out of one of the pockets of her oversized, black overalls and opens her contacts list. She doesn't have to scroll too long. Not many contacts there.

On the line, her first assistant picks up almost immediately.

“Hi there, Val.”

“Nicolas! Nikulás, my favourite assistant !" they smile, all teeth out in an exaggerated grin. "How's it hanging, luv?"

But Nicolas' voice is stern and definitely not as enthusiastic as theirs.

“Alright what did you do?"

Valska’s smile melts away.

“What! Nikulás, ástin minn, what do you meaaan? I'm just calling to check in on you! Just making sure my favourite person is rocking, as usual!"

“Val. I'm in the middle of supervising a recording session. What. Do you. Want. Or should I ask in Icelandic."

Valska can't keep a grunt from crossing her black-painted lips. She leans against a wall, one arm across her chest and pouts.

“If this is about your guest, we’ve discussed that already. I don't want to have anything to do with it."

“Nooo, it's all fine, he’s fine, everything fine. I don't get why you’re so touchy about this."

“Oh, maybe it’s because when Lilith comes back and she learns of what you're doing, we'll both be in gigantic trouble?"

Now, Valska's face has lost all playfulness. They lift their chin up.

“You worry too much. Besides, Lily isn't here and hasn't been in almost eight years now."

“Look. Peu importe. I don't want to fight over this again. Why are you calling?"

“Could you call the pizza thing for me and have them deliver to the flat?"

She can practically hear him roll his eyes.

“Right away. The usual?"

“Yeah. But! Uh, take another two. No, three. Make 'em complete. Like everything they can put on them."

A sigh.

“Anything else?”

“Could you, err.." starts Valska, ears dropping, tail whipping nervously. "Could you send in another imp? Please? Hæhæ."

“... ANOTHER ONE ?"

“I knoooow but the newbie sorta got, well... uh…"

“What did you do to him this time??!"

Valska's ears tense up and their tail whips the wall. "Nothing! Why would you assume it's me?"

“It's the fourth fucking imp I hire for you in the past two months Valska!"

They wince at their full name.

“Yes well that first imp had it coming.”

“Everyone has different music taste, you stupid rat!"

“She said Karimloo was a better Phantom than Michael Crawford to my fucking face. What was I meant to do??"

On the other end, Nicolas sighs loudly.

“Here's what I'll do. I'll send in another one and if this one doesn't last you at least a full month, you'll have to start hiring your own damn imps yourself."

“You mean call the agency myself and talk to people?" echoes Valska, dumbfounded, offended, hell, outraged even.

“My words exactly."

“Ugh. FINE."

They’re about to hang up on him when--

“How is he?" asks Nicolas, reluctant.

“Who?”

“Wh-- Qu-- The effing leader of the exterminations whom you rescued, who the heck would I be talking about?!"

“Oh. Kinda freaked about his new hellish form. I think."

“Alright," grumbles her first assistant. "Don't drop your guard. If he kills you it's your problem."

And he hangs up on them. Valska looks down at her phone, mouth open in disbelief, teeth growing sharper all of a sudden. "I get to hang up on you, not the other way around, you snail-eating baguette," she mumbles to herself as she walks away.

ástinn minn (is) - my love

peu importe (fr) - whatever

Nicolas (fr) - just don't pronounce the s

Nikulás (is) - nicolaos kinda

[wrathbites]

I am lowkey now obsessed with vampire!Shepard/Kaidan. I never knew I needed this in my life until right now. Could I perchance throw out an idea for a fic? The first time Shepard feeds off Kaidan for some reason? Bonus points if they're together romantically by then.

INHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALES AND SCREAMS FOR A YEAR. Ahem. 'Nonny, you have no idea how delightful it was to come across this message. It made my weekend, never mind my day. I only set out with this AU because it sparked joy for me, but hearing others say they also enjoy it? Hearing this from you? Receiving a prompt about it? I'm still on cloud nine, never intending to come back down lol

aofihuehfurwghurwg okay so onto the fic. I hope you don't mind, but this isn't a "first feeding" so much as a "first taste" (I have... several... first feeding ideas now. 9 to be exact. [I have AUs of an AU now oh god]) and they're not romantically together yet so I need to skip on those bonus points buuuuuuuut. For at least another two of those ideas I have rattling around in my skull, those points would apply. Alas, trying to wrangle them onto paper and into words is proving somewhat of a challenge XD

So uhm. With that! I hope you enjoy!

Risk the hostages now, or countless others later. Save a few, or potentially hundreds more. An impossible choice but Shepard makes it. He always makes it, he has to. So Kaidan and Vakarian follow his lead when he steps aside, and allow the batarian terrorist safe passage.

Except — the gravity well shudders under his fingertips, tortured by another with claws hooked deep. Except Shepard's mask of indifference doesn't quite cover his eyes. They burn as he catches Balak by the arm and yanks him to a stop, drawing every remaining gun to his head.

Except Shepard's grin is a vicious slash of teeth with no humour, fangs a threat when he leans in close and says, ever so softly, "are you really willing to walk away from the Batarian Scourge, Balak?"

And then all hell breaks loose.

~

Shepard's already bled through his undershirt by the time Kaidan's kicked free of the last of his armour, mentally cursed up a storm over the new set of bruises smarting across his back, and gone limping off to medbay in search of him. There's a fist-sized dark patch spread under his ribs, no bandages in sight, and blood coming away from Chakwas' fingers with her meticulous scrubbing. They look up when the door swishes open. Kaidan doesn't miss Shepard's eyes rolling heavenward.

"Could you excuse us for a few minutes, please, Doctor?" he asks. Her lips press into a thin line of displeasure as she dries her hands, gaze snagging on his sidearm — standard protocol, whether she likes it or not.

"Remember the rules, gentlemen — there's to be no maiming one another in my medbay," she says in a tone that'll brook no nonsense, only departing when she receives acknowledgement and agreement from them both. Kaidan engages the lock behind her, moves over to the window and tilts the blinds for privacy, finds Shepard watching him when he turns back around. Still seated, still playing the docile vampire when he'd been anything but just an hour ago.

"Why do you still bother with restraints?" Kaidan asks when it's clear silence will reign otherwise. They won't hold him, not for long, not without the assistance of a stasis field, and yet Shepard's making no effort to free himself.

Why? Why leave yourself a moment's vulnerability. Why trust me?

Shepard twitches his shoulders forward, all he can do with neck, arms, chest, waist, and legs all bound and secured. "A false sense of security is better than none at all, I've found."

"Uh-huh. Sure, that's believable, but I'm pretty sure Chakwas knows ten different ways to incapacitate you before you can so much as snap your teeth in her direction."

"One, actually."

"Shepard."

"Alenko," he parrots back with a scowl and, Christ, what Kaidan would give to knock his other fang loose. Insufferable bastard.

"Seriously, Shepard, c'mon. Are they even necessary these days? You've been a vampire how long?"

"Almost six years," Shepard's back to that staring habit of his that doesn't involve a single blink, eyes boring into Kaidan like laser sights as he approaches, gait the same as it would be if he was pacing the rest of the ship, neither slow nor cautious because he doesn't need to be either —

"And when was the last time you attacked a human?"

"About the same length of time."

— not around Shepard.

"So why?" The stare breaks when Shepard glances down, watching Kaidan pry open a buckle and loosen the strap around his left wrist, followed by the one at his forearm. No breathing, but there's a catch around an unnecessary swallow. Hm.

"They're... one of the conditions I must abide by."

Conditions. To return to active duty. Kaidan's placement as his watcher, the sidearm Kaidan can lay hands on at all times, more he's not aware of but Shepard hinted at their first day aboard. More, including restraints. Fucking hell.

"Six years handling humans like fragile glass, and they still treat you like a monster."

His other arm free.

"My species didn't exactly win humanity the First Contact war with diplomatic discussion, Alenko. The caution is warranted."

His chest next, still as the death he walked away from.

"The day caution becomes cruelty is the day it should end," Kaidan replies, taking a knee to work on the bindings around Shepard's legs. He freezes, however, when cool fingertips brush the fine hairs at the nape of his neck. It's one thing to have a vampire's hand so close to his throat, but to have them skirting his amp jack?

Kaidan's turn to swallow.

"Speaking from personal experience, Alenko?"

He looks up and Shepard's fingers ghost around, settle under his chin and tip his head up, grey eyes fixed where his pulse hammers fast.

Oh god.

"Something like that," he replies, a sandpaper rasp, mouth gone dry

"You underestimate the threat I pose to you," Shepard says next, soft as a whisper, still fixated on Kaidan's throat while freeing his own one-handed.

"Or maybe," Kaidan says, reaching for the restraints around his waist, "I listen to what others say about you, and decide I don't see what they do." The last one comes loose with a faint hiss as it slides from his hand, and just like that Shepard's free.

If Kaidan had true cause for concern around him, it'd be proven in that moment. He'd be flat on his back with teeth in his neck and hands holding him down, bones creaking in protest of a vampire's strength. He'd be struggling like a hooked fish, dark energy screaming between them, and ultimately he'd lose.

But it's not death looking back at him. It's Shepard, gaze lifting from the heartbeat he can see and Kaidan can feel, halting just as his breath does when Shepard's thumb lifts to his mouth, not quite making contact. Not yet.

"And if I tell you I'm a danger?"

A moment's vulnerability.

Oh. God.

"I'd ask if you were planning to kill me or kiss me."

The slightest pressure from Shepard's fingers and he stands, turned free when Shepard doesn't follow suit, stepping back when a jolt of ice strikes his hip in time to the blossom of blue around his sidearm, biotic field humming along his nerves. "I could ask the same of you," Shepard says.

"Conditions," he replies.

There's no flare of panic from Shepard when he removes his pistol from its holster, no flinching aside. No, he gets to his feet, stands straight, hands clasped behind his back. Watching. Waiting for his watcher's judgement.

"Caution," Kaidan continues, turning the pistol sideways and pressing it to Shepard's chest, "at its end when it becomes cruelty."

You're not a monster.

Shepard sets it aside with the same care he shows when settling a hand on Kaidan's side, over his belt. Loose, a question. Will he walk a fine line with danger, or retreat back to safety?

You never were.

He finds the blood on Shepard's undershirt, catches it in his fist and pulls him across that minuscule distance between them.

I'm not afraid of you.

Shepard's cool to the touch all over, lips, teeth, the line of his jaw, the tender skin around his own amp jack. His tongue, soothing the sting when Kaidan nicks himself on one of those fangs, his breath when he draws back, his exhale Kaidan's inhale, his moan Kaidan's secret.

I never was.

"We shouldn't —"

"Shepard, if you hit me with fraternisation regs now, I swear to god I'll knee you in the balls and see how quick you recover from that."

Laughter, tucked into his shoulder when Shepard ducks his head, Kaidan's fingers buried in his hair and free hand sliding around his back, finding the stain twin to the one on his front.

"I meant I haven't fed yet. I can't — you can't — be bleeding. Around me."

"Another one of those wonderful conditions you agreed to?"

"Mmhm. No direct feeding from a human. My own preference as well, but..."

"Go, then. I'll wait."

"You will?"

"I mean, I won't stare at you while you're uh. Feeding. That'd just be weird. And I promise I won't snicker if you stick an IV line in the bag and 'slurp it up like a slushie'."

~

Shepard's still laughing some ten minutes later and it's just as well he can't choke on inhaled mouthwash, else Kaidan would have some awkward explaining to do when Chakwas quizzed him on the cause of secondary death.

He catches her smile when she spies his sidearm on her desk. What she does with it after they leave medbay, back to business as usual when it's decidedly not, he never asks.

And he notices the missing cut later, when he's checking and rechecking the repairs on his armour. Smooth skin where there shouldn't be. He swipes his thumb over his lip. No dried blood to be found, no scarring, either.

No mark from Shepard's kiss except the memory.

[penguinwithitsarseonfire]

Baby Just Say Yes

Relationship: 12th Doctor x Reader

Warnings: brief mention of drowning - but not graphically described, and some spoilers for War and Peace (the book, although I suppose it would apply to the TV show as well, since they're the same story)

Word Count: 2,704

Summary: When you, Bill, and the Doctor debate the merits of how many doughnuts are too many, it accidentally leads to a revelation on an event you hadn't actually known had happened. 

Request: Bill finds out that the reader is "married" to Doc and at some point Bill jokes calling the two her grandparents

A/N: I took the route of reader knowing the Doctor for years and years, just so it was easier to justify the nature of the Doctor and readers relationship. As a result, it's got some implied past 11 x Reader. Hope that’s okay!

Your finger trailed along the spines of the collection of books on one the shelves in the second level of the console room. You paused when your eyes landed on a familiar novel, one you had yet to crack open, but really wanted to. If so you could boast to the Doctor that you'd read it.

War and Peace.

1,225 pages. The Doctor had never had the patience for it. You took the novel out from the shelf, only for a plume of dust to pool into the air. It tickled your nose, making it itch.

Then you sneezed.

You rubbed your finger along the base of your nose in a vain attempt to scratch it, and narrowed your eyes at the dusty bookshelf. The Doctor had said he was going to dust it.

A muffled voice spoke from below, it took you a moment to place what was said, but you were pretty sure it was ‘bless you’.

You were on a planet the Doctor and you had discovered in his last face, back when he had been younger, had a longer chin, and was far more obsessed with sweets. It was famous for its doughnuts, the best in the galaxy, the Doctor had decided.

And that decision had stuck, since, when the Doctor had told Bill about the planet, she had decided that they absolutely must go.

You poked your head over the bannister and locked eyes with Bill. She was holding a doughnut in her mouth, and her hands were full balancing two trays. You realised it must have been Bill who spoke, because the Doctor was only now coming in, holding a near empty tray of doughnuts in one hand.

“Hey,” you said, and you placed your book on one of the chairs before hopping down the stairs. “You two get enough?”

Bill snorted, dropping her boxes onto the console and taking a bite out of her doughnut. “Not even. He,” she nodded towards the Doctor. “Has already eaten nearly every single one out of that box.”

Your eyebrows flew into your hairline, and you snatched the box out of the Doctor’s hands. You waved the Doctor away when he protested, and instead eyed the boxes contents. There was a single doughnut left. Out of nine doughnuts, and only one was left. It was round, with no hole in the middle, and a good layer of icing sugar sprinkled on top.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Feeling sick yet?”

The Doctor raised his own eyebrow at you, and you knew, instinctually, that it was more effective than yours. “You do not get to lecture me on health.”

It was a weak rebuttal.

“You’ve had eight of them Doctor,” you took the final doughnut out of the box. “Eight.”

He snatched it out of your hand, and your face fell. “Timelord,” he replied, and then took a large bite out of the final doughnut. The Doctor immediately winced, then hissed. He pulled the doughnut away with a frown, and you saw the remnants of hot jam on his lips.

A swell of vindication ran through you, and, under the guise of wiping some of the jam off, you took the doughnut off of him. You let the air cool the jam slightly, not wanting to burn yourself too. “Eight,” you said again. “Is more than enough.”

“The very basics of my physiology are different,” he gestured to both his hearts for good measure, then tried to reach for the doughnut, you were ready though, and you held it out of reach. “I’ll be fine.”

“Just because you've got two hearts,” you said. “Doesn't mean you've got two stomachs. At the very least you'll get indigestion.”

And with that you took a hungry bite out of the very doughnut he had just stolen from you. It was good, they’d made it with raspberry jam, and the stark taste of the sharp raspberry against the sweet sugar warmed you. You gave him a satisfied smirk, and turned to Bill. “What about you, what’s yours?”

Bill had been watching you both, her head swinging between you like she was watching a tennis match. She had just bitten into her doughnut, and she looked slightly stunned that you had spoken to her.

“It’s really good,” she said, but her mouth was full so it sounded more like ‘ts r’lly gud. She swallowed, then continued talking. “Can’t remember what they said this one was,” and she turned to the Doctor, holding the doughnut up so both you and the Doctor could see its contents. It was filled with a rich purple paste. “What’s supposed to be in it?”

“Ube,” the Doctor said coolly, and he shuffled over to your side. You sidestepped him, taking another bite of the doughnut. He wasn’t getting it that easily. “It’s from the Philippines, traditionally.”

“We should’ve gotten more,” Bill said. “I think these are my favourite so far.”

This was the beauty of this planet, they were obsessed with Earth doughnuts, so they’d preserved every culturally significant recipe that Earth had, 1,893 – the Doctor had counted. They even had cronut’s, of all things, though you’d yet to try them.

The Doctor scowled at the other two boxes, and you stepped carefully in front of them.

“I chose a new book,” you said, which was a blatant redirection of conversation, but you powered through. “One I’m sure you haven’t finished.”

From the corner of your eyes, you noticed Bill was watching the pair of you again, as if a spectator of a sport.

The Doctor studied you carefully, and you knew he was humouring this new conversation. “That’s an unlikely assumption.

“War and Peace,” you said, with only a small hint of pride.

The Doctor cocked his head to the side, considering it. “You’re right, actually. I got bored once the Anatole and Natasha affair got going. Couldn’t visit the opera for a couple decades either.”

Your face fell.

Bill spluttered. “Did you just spoil it?”

The Doctor waved a hand. “The book's over 150 years old. If Y/N doesn't know about the ending by now then that's not really my fault.”

You vaguely heard Bill breathe out an Oh my God.

“That's one of the most arrogant things you've ever said,” you said, still processing the shock of how he had so simply said what he had. “And I once listened to you drone on for an hour on how you choreographed the macarena.”

“I did that in a different face though, younger, more nimble. I’ll have to tell you about how I taught Claude Debussy how to shred.”

“Like, on the guitar, or in the ocean?” Bill asked.

“Yes,” the Doctor said, and then he went to grab for the rest of the doughnut in your hand.

“Oh no,” you said, side-stepping him. “No more, especially not after you spoiled the book for me.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he said. “It’s not like I told you how Andrei dies in a gruesome battle against the French, and Natasha coincidently finds herself by his side as he dies on his deathbed, even though they’d long parted. Honestly.”

Your eyes bugged out of your skull, you could feel it, as though they were ready to up and roll away.

“Is Andrei an important character?” Bill asked slowly, and then, she meekly added. “I haven’t seen the show.”

You spoke very slowly, your voice low. You narrowed your eyes to the Doctor. The death of a major character was a pretty big spoiler. “I cannot believe you.”

The Doctor winced slightly. “I just rambled like I was 900 years old again, didn’t I?”

“At least,” you breathed. You swallowed your exasperation, and then, suddenly, you sneezed. It was loud, like it had to announce itself to the world, and you rocked backwards slightly. You sniffled.

“Bless you,” Bill said again, but her mouth was full, so it sounded like ‘bleshooo’.

You gave her your thanks, then turned to the Doctor, your mind going to the reason why you were sneezing in the first place. “Dusting,” you said. “You haven’t dusted yet. You said you would.”

The Doctor waved a hand. “I will, I’ll get round to it.”

“You offered, Doctor,” you continued, and in the back of your mind, you wondered if it sounded like you were nagging him . “No one asked you to do it, Nardole didn’t even ask. You offered.”

“You’re in a mood,” The Doctor said suddenly, and he leaned forward, so his big nose was almost against yours.. “Are you sick?

“I – what, no, I’m not sick,” you said, and you stumbled back suddenly. His eyes were so large, so close, and it was momentarily disarming. “You can be so infuriating sometimes, you know that?”

“You tell me constantly.”

Bill’s face grew into a large, delighted grin. “Oh my God,” she said. “You're like an old married couple.”

You turned to her, stunned. Or course, you were with the Doctor, but the idea of being married to him… well, he had done it, you knew he had, you’d been there, several years ago now when he’d had a different face with a long chin and an affinity for custard.

It certainly hadn’t been to you, though.

Of course, time had been broken and you’d been wearing an itchy eyepatch, but schematics.

You’d also seen the Doctor, a much younger face, one you had never travelled with, marry Queen Elizabeth the first. You’d been a ring bearer. It had been too fun teasing all three of faces of the Doctor that day for it.

But no. You had certainly never married him.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t want to, quite honestly, the thought had never crossed your mind. You had been so content in your relationship with him, how sure it felt, how right it was, that you’d never thought about anything more.

The Doctor, too, gawked, but for an entirely different reason. "You called me old.”

Bill glanced up and down the doctor's frame, which was enough to make her point.

“Fine,” the Doctor grumbled. “I'm old.”

“How are we like an old married couple?” You pressed, because the Doctor was not getting the key part of Bill’s statement.

“The bickering,” she said. “It's totally what couples do.”

You gaped and turned to the Doctor for some sort of guidance. You waited for him to shut it down. To laugh and just say it was because you were comfortable around one another. Instead, the Doctor only shrugged. "I mean,” he said. “Technically we are married'

You did a double take. Married. You were, apparently, already married to the Doctor.

What?

Bill gasped. “What - no, since when? Why didn't you tell me?”

“Yeah,” you said, finding your voice. “I'd quite like to know too.”

Bill turned to you. “Wait what do you mean?”

“This is news to me,” you continued. “We're married? Where was my something old and something blue?”

The Doctor gestured to himself, then around the console room - the TARDIS. So those were, apparently, the something old and something blue. A bit on the nose.

He raised an eyebrow, and you wondered if your expression was as confused as you felt. “On the foreshore of Tralite,” he prompted. “With the Arhkor embassy.”

That... that hadn't been a wedding. Had it?

You mind went back to that evening, so many years ago now, back when you had been travelling with Clara, back when the doctor knew who Clara was. Your heart clenched for a moment, you didn't think about those times often. You felt alone in those memories, like you were the only one who held them, could cherish them.

But you remembered, quite clearly.

Here's what had happened:

Every decade, the Arhkor would sacrifice a person with renowned intelligence to the foreshore of Tralite, a beach that was more pebble than sand. The sacrifice would sit in the water until they drowned, and their memories would be recorded into the water. Living memory, the Doctor had said.

But the sacrifice that year, a young girl named Ardiel, whose bright purple hair had matched her purple scales, had been so young, and she hadn’t wanted to die.

So the Doctor, in all his foolish martyring glory, had marched out into the sea himself.

And of course, you couldn’t let him do that, so you followed.

“That wasn’t a wedding,” you said. “You were trying to sacrifice yourself to an ocean.”

You remembered it, your hand clasped in his, and the water settling over you both. You hadn’t been scared, which, in hindsight, terrified you. You should have been scared, but you weren’t. You had felt calm, at ease, safe even.

You couldn’t remember exactly why you had both been spared, but the water washed away, leaving you both wet and cold – but alive. And the water had never asked for another sacrifice since.

“It was a marrying of the minds,” The Doctor said, enunciating the words like he was trying to drill the meaning into your brain. “The water had been the officiant.”

“This is so weird,” Bill said, and she took another bite out of her doughnut.

You found yourself agreeing with Bill. “Doctor, that makes exactly zero sense.”

“The water had found something worth more than intelligence,” the Doctor continued. “It had found love. So when it copied and pasted our minds, that’s all it found. It unified us. It was a wedding.”

You rubbed your forehead with your fingers, trying to process this.

“I gotta say,” Bill commented, and she’d finished the doughnut she had been eating and was now fishing another out of a box. She pulled out a brown doughnut that was an oval shape with a silt down the middle. “I dunno how many people can say their grandparents got married by an ocean.”

“Ox-tongue,” the Doctor said, and he nodded to the pastry in Bill’s hand. Then, he considered her statement. “And that’s true, you should use that. It’s a good pick up line, should impress a girl or two.”

Bill scrunched up her face. “Okay, one; Ox tongue? Seriously? That can’t be right.”

The Doctor shrugged. “It’s Cantonese. A friend once told me about it. Apparently it references the shape of the dough. That being said, it might also be horse ears.”

“Okay,” Bill raised a sceptical eyebrow. “I’ll maybe half trust it, because it doesn’t sound right, but I don’t know enough to prove you wrong,” she paused before speaking again. “Also, two; I don’t think those two can get mixed up. Three, I’m never, ever using that as a pick up line. Not ever. It’s terrible.”

Thankfully, the Doctor was so focused on Bill’s last point, that he disregarded what she had said earlier. “It’s an excellent line! You’ll get to teach the girls something new!”

“Sorry, circle back,” you said, because your brain wasn’t computing. You weren’t even sure what you needed to address first. The marriage comments? The grandparents comment? The ox tongue?

Both Bill and the Doctor looked to you expectantly.

You pointed to the Doctor. “First of all, still wasn’t a wedding,” you then pointed to Bill. “Second of all, grandparents? I know he’s old but I’m certainly not.”

“Yeah but you’re with him,” she said, after swallowing part of her doughnut. She took another eager bite.

“He is sitting right here,” the Doctor grumbled. “But alright, if it wasn’t a wedding up to your standards, we can always do something different,” he stood up. “We can arrange it.”

Your brain short circuited, and you had to reprocess what the Doctor had said.

We can always do something different. We can arrange it.

Had the Doctor just proposed to you?

You were so stunned you didn’t even protest as he plucked the remaining doughnut from out of your fingers, wandering out of the console room. “Let me know,” he called out. “And we’ll get to reading that Tolstoy.”

You sat there, bug eyed, and turned to Bill. She was wearing a similar expression, she’d dropped her own doughnut, which sat dejected on top of one of the doughnut boxes.

“Did what I think just happened, happen?” You asked, your voice only slightly shrill.

Bill nodded. “I – uh, yeah. I think so.”

You stood up, and sprinted after him.

A/N^2: I gotta give huge thanks to the ever-sweet @phxntxmx​, who pointed out there was a bit of confusion in how I described one of the doughnuts here. I’ve tried to clear it up and make it a bit more consistent, since it’s not something I know about for sure.

[dragon-kazansky]

Til death do us part | Helmut Zemo

Bodyguard AU! 🕶

Gender neutral reader

Collage by @realremyd

[Previous chapter] - [Next chapter]

Part 3

All of you were up early. You ate with the staff and the bodyguards grouped up for a quick meeting while the Baron got ready. You all gathered in the hall for the bedrooms you had been staying in.

"We head out immediately. Steve will meet us in Paris with the rest of the crew. It's so vital we stick with the Baron throughout his trip. We escort him to the hotel, station ourselves outside of the room. He will have a floor to himself, helping us limit who comes and goes from that room," Sam explains.

"What about the flight?" Bucky asks.

"The Baron will be flown over on his own plane. We are to be onboard with him, just stay out of his way and let him do his thing once we're up in the air. There isn't much we can do in a plane anyway."

"So, Paris, huh?" You smile at Sam.

"Yep. You remember when we were there?" He grins.

"Oh boy, do I. What a week that was."

Sam laughs.

Back when you were just a newbie and had passed your training, Sam had taken you to Paris to celebrate for a bit before you too long your first assignment. It was one of the best trips of your life.

"We won't get to do much sight seeing, I'm afraid."

"Ah well, it will still be nice to be in the city," you say, smiling.

"Yeah. Who knows, we might see a few familiar spots here and there," he winks at you.

You ignore the funny looks Bucky and Nat were giving you both. There were some things that would forever remain secrets.

Zemo was ready. He was currently eating in the dining room. You and Sam entered, Bucky and Natasha remained at the door. The Baron didn't even glance at you as entered, but if you had been paying attention to him, you would have noticed how irritated he looked.

Zemo finished up his breakfast.

As he rose and left the room, the pair of you followed, flanked then by Bucky and Nat. Zemo had a private word with the housekeeper before nodding at Sam. All together, you headed out. Bucky got the car door for the Baron as Sam climbed in the other side.

The rest if you would be parted into the other two cars, one to lead, one to follow.

Nat would be in the leading car.

Bucky and yourself would be in the following car.

She gave you a quick run of the protocol should anything transpire on the drive to the airstrip, and then you parted ways.

The three black SUV vehicles leave the estate.

Bucky glances at you beside him. You were looking out the window, quietly. From the moment you left the Baron's office you had been a little more stoic around Zemo.

"You alright?"

You look up quickly, putting on a smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes.

"I'm fine."

"You can talk to me you know," he tells you.

"I'm good at my job, right?"

He looks so stunned when he hears those words fall from your lips. His blue eyes flickers between your own rapidly, trying to find any reason within your own gaze as to why you would ever doubt yourself.

"Of course! I've seen you in action."

"It's just... when I client has doubts in their security, it makes you think."

"Do not listen to the Baron. Natasha and Sam told is he was an asshole, he just proved it. You're amazing, don't ever doubt yourself," he smiles.

You smile softly.

"I'm proud of my work. Sure, I've never actually had to guard anyone from a known threat, just make sure nothing happens to the client, but if things go down, I'm following protocol."

"Good. If things do turn out for the worst, I know you can handle it," he grins.

"Thanks, Bucky."

The cars arrive at the airstrip at the designated time. All bodyguards step pit of their vehicles before Zemo steps out of his. You all gather around the car and stand in the formality stance.

Sam opens the door.

Zemo looks a little irritated again, but says nothing as he walks toward to the plane. He goes straight inside.

Sam has a discussion with the pilot as the rest of you climb inside. You each take a seat, a respectable distance away from Zemo, and face forward.

You're the closest to the Baron at the moment. You avoid looking at him.

Sam enters and takes his own seat. He sits on the Baron's side, facing your way. You nod at each other.

The pilot climbs into the cockpit and, within the next several minutes, the plane takes off.

Helmut grabs a book from his bag and gets comfortable, ignoring the guards in the plane and losing himself in the pages.

Oeznik, the butler who you hadn't noticed boarded, comes over to him with a drink. He places the glass down and walks away.

You turn your eyes to the window and decide you'll just watch the sky for the flight. You were used to being left with your thoughts during transportation.

It doesn't take long to arrive in Paris.

The Baron had ignored all of you during the flight. He stepped off the plane and greeted Steve who had been waiting for you all. He had arrived with Carol and Clint in tow.

They shook hands.

Apparently he liked Steve the most out of all of you. Though you could see why.

"Shall we?" Zemo gestures to the cars behind Steve.

Steve gestures for Zemo to go ahead, opening the door for him when they get to the car. Once the door is closed behind him, Steve gestures for you to him.

"All good?" He asks.

"Yeah, all good. Don't worry, I got this."

"I know. I just wanted to make sure. The Baron just asked that I don't let you ride with him," he tells you, softly.

"Alright. I didn't expect to anyway."

"Don't let him get to you."

You just nod. You've had this conversation already. Don't let Baron Helmut Zemo get to you. You knew the drill.

It felt good that everyone was so supportive though.

You climb into the car behind, the following car. Sam and Bucky are in this car. They smile at you as you join them.

Then you're off.

Zemo was going to be staying right in the middle of the city.

The ride was mostly silent and felt rather long. Each of you kept your eyes out on the streets, keeping an eye for anything suspicious.

There had been no word of any threats in the city, but that didn't mean you could let your guard down.

The hotel was extremely nice. A bit glitzy and posh, the kind of place you would expect a Baron to stay at.

He is flanked by Steve and Carol as they check in. The rest of you hang back a bit. There weren't too many people about, but those that were watched with curiosity.

Steve and Carol went into the elevator with the Baron. The rest of you followed, taking the stairs. Your legs were going to feel this in the morning. The Baron was staying on the twelfth floor.

When you got up there, the Baron was already secured in his room. Carol was at the door.

You all spread out along the hallway and waited. His meeting would take place two hours later.

That's two hours of standing in a hallway with nothing but each others company. No one came or went from this floor.

When it was time to leave for the Baron's meeting, you all took your positions as you followed him back down to the lobby, once again taking the stairs, and back into the cars.

The meeting was being held at an official building in the centre of Paris.

A finely dressed gentleman surrounded by guards in the centre of a city was plenty enough to catch the attention of locals. Though the Baron was globally known, he was sure to leave an impression on France after he left.

You all enter the building and walk with him up to the meeting room, where only Steve is to follow him inside. Natasha and Carol separate from the group to stand in the main lobby incase anyone tried to get in sho wasn't welcome.

The rest if you waited outside of the meeting room.

Clint came to stand beside you, having not caught up with you yet. You smile at one another and face forward as you chat.

"The Baron's a piece of work," he says, keeping his voice low.

"You can say that again," you reply, keeping your voice just as low.

"Honestly, it doesn't surprise me this guy has enemies. He doesn't strike me as a people person."

"He must have some conversation skills though, if the whole purpose of his visit is to strengthen bonds and all that," you glance at him.

Clint shrugs.

"Still an asshole."

You smile as you agree.

The meeting goes on for about an hour. No one leaves the room, no one seems enters either.

When the meeting concludes for the day, the Baron doesn't look at any of you as he leaves. You all follow. He would be here for another two days before they came up with a deal.

The next day was much the same, only Clint didn't come to talk shit about him with you again.

On the third day, they came up with a deal.

There wasn't a single threat in the city. The Baron's visit in Paris had been smooth and came to a favorable conclusion. He left that last meeting looking proud and pleased.

That was also the first time since his arrival in Paris he had looked at you. Whether it was by accident or not, you have no idea, but he had looked at you for the briefest moment.

However, he was looking smug for those brief moments. You didn't know how to take that.

Back at the hotel, in the room you had been given to rest in with Nat and Clint, you looked at the French newspaper in front of you. It was talking about the Baron's visit. There was a photo of him entering the building the first day.

You sigh softly.

Doing your job was feeling exhausting. Though you were a bodyguard, previous clients had given you more attention than this.

It felt as if Baron Helmut Zemo was trying to wind you up and get on your nerves.

What did it mean when he looked at you earlier?

Clint sank down into the seat next to you and handed you a drink. You took it gratefully and sat with him, looking a little tired at this point.

"Ready for another flight tomorrow?" He asks, looking pretty tired himself.

"Sure am. Nothing like globe trotting while watching out for an asshole."

Clint laughs.

"I heard him talking earlier."

"Oh? Dare I ask what he was talking about?" You look at him, but honestly, you couldn't care less.

"I think he was talking to Steve about you."

"About me? Why should he be talking about me?" You sit up a bit, obviously more intrigued now.

"I don't know why, but he really doesn't seem to like you."

You sink down a little.

"I know. I haven't done anything to him, I showed up for my assignment and he immediately shoots me down. He doesn't think I'm capable of my job and I hate that!" You put your drink down, annoyed that he was talking shit about you behind your back.

"Steve stood up for you."

You didn't say anything.

Clint sighs and places an arm around you, giving you a side hug.

"Better get some rest. We're off to London first thing in the morning."

You nod.

Clint leaves your side and goes to bed. You remain sitting there for a while longer before going to bed yourself.

You would will yourself not to be bothered by what the Baron thought.

What did he know about you anyway? Nothing!

You didn't know it then as you climbed into bed, but London would be your chance to prove your abilities to the Baron.

London wouldn't be quite as smooth as Paris had been.

John Walker would see to that.

@thesuitkovian @justfangirlthingies @belle82devart @zemosimp420 @anteroom-of-death @silverlambcaptain @that-stupid-head-tilt-thing @lieutenantn @daniielbruhl @awesomesauce-abbie @latenightartist-author @lazygurl05 @rumblelibrary @nonamec0s @shura-gorl @ginger-abreu @caligrl1992 @livvyshmiv @luciadiosa @vverliebt @tatooineisdry @charistory @somethingthatsaysbubbles

[mmilkbreadd]

Chapter twenty five: “The End”

Masterpost - Prev.

Warning(s): a bit of swearing ; post-timeskip manga spoilers!!

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Or aka, ‘The Sakusa Kiyoomi Theory’

Act One: “Who is Sakusa Kiyoomi?”

Saturday, 6:23 am, “y/n's home”

“You're late,” said y/n with crossed arms, she was already waiting for him at the door of her house. “I hope this doesn't become routine.”

It was already morning in the streets of Paris. Tendou Satori and her neighbor (and best friend), y/n l/n, were walking towards their famous bakery and chocolate shop, ‘Sweet Strawberries.’ It was a small place with a few tables to sit for tea and delicious things to eat. Also, although it was small, it was quite crowded.

“Woah, how angry you are today, little baker... More than usual, actually” y/n shook her head at her friend's comment. “But obviously I already know why, and it seems that you know why too.”

Y/n decided to ignore what Satori had said, and keep walking quite ahead of him. It was still an hour before the store opened, but they already had several orders that were due to deliver around nine in the morning. A three-tier wedding cake, forty heart-shaped chocolates for the anniversary of a married couple, and of course, the strawberry cake for someone named Sakusa Kiyoomi.

Around a quarter to seven, they arrived at the bakery, and they got down to work to get all the orders completed on time. 

Tendou was more dedicated to the chocolate part, of course, and to serve customers. Despite y/n had advanced a lot in terms of her social skills, she still needed to learn a little about how to communicate normally with a person.

“That 'Sakusa Kiyoomi' has a Japanese name, do you think he is too?” y/n asked, wiping flour from her hands.

“I don't know, they could be. But doesn't that name sound too familiar to you?”  Satori replied.

“That's exactly what I was thinking!”

“Weird.”

“Yeah... Anyway, the customer asked not to make the chocolate so bitter so add more milk to that please.”

“Yes, boss!” Satori made a military signal and continued his work.

Act Two: “Pretending to be Sakusa Kiyoomi.”

8:39 am, “Paris” (?)

Bokuto Koutarou, along with Miya Atsumu and Hinata Shoyo were lost in Paris. They had circled the Eiffel Tower at least five times. But it seemed they hadn't realized it yet.

They were more lost than Bokuto studying math. But a simple city would not defeat them so easily... would it?

“Maybe we should have brought Sakusa,” Hinata said after round number six.

“And hear him complain about how dirty everything is? No thanks,” Atsumu Miya replied, shaking his head. “We don't need Omi-Omi. I, Miya Atsumu, am enough to know where we are.”

Atsumu put a hand on his chest, pretending to be offended. Bokuto and Hinata looked around, ignoring the enormous tower behind them, wondering where they were.

“And where are we then?”

“Paris, of course” he replied. “I can’t believe you’re seriously asking that, Shoyo.”

Hinata and Bokuto looked at each other, unable to believe what their teammate was saying.

“Sure…” Bokuto said, getting his phone out of his pocket. It was time to be the serious person of the trio. “Akaashi, we got lost” and that time was now over. Koutarou was crying as he spoke to his friend, who was on another continent. “No, I can't stop crying, Akaashi. I swear I was following the steps you wrote on the map so we wouldn't get lost, but Atsumu wanted to take the lead, so he broke the instructions, and we don’t know where we are. It's all his fault...! No, Sakusa has not come either.”

“Hey! It wasn't my fault,” the dyed blonde complained, crossing his arms. “And we never needed Omi-Omi!”

“Okay, Akaashi, I'll do it. Bye, love you… As a bro of course” Bokuto finished saying and hung up. “He told me I have to call Tendou. Is the only way.”

Hinata started shaking his head from side to side, while Atsumu slapped his forehead with his hand. Then a message came from Keiji; It was the number of Tendou Satori himself. Bokuto started dialing the numbers that appeared on the screen of his phone, on Hinata's.

“Wait wait, shouldn't I speak? He might recognize your voice” Hinata said, awkwardly taking the phone from Bokuto's hands. 

“He would also recognize yours, Shoyo. I'll do it.” Atsumu snatched the device from him and pressed the call button. “Hello, sir, what’s up? I'm Sakusa Kiyoomi, could you help me get to your store? I'm a bit lost... How did I get your number you ask? Eh– It's on your website dude! You should delete it, some people pretend to be someone else and you should not fall for that...”

Act Three: “If Sakusa Kiyoomi was real, we should have brought him.”

10:04 am, “Sweet Strawberries Bakery and Chocolate Shop”

“I can't believe it took us almost two hours to get here! It wasn't even that far from the hotel” Hinata said looking towards the building that was a few meters in front of them.

“Six blocks. Can’t believe it either.” Atsumu wiped the sweat from his brow. “And now that? Are we going in or not?”

Bokuto went pale. He was going to see you, after so many years without communicating or having exchanged glances. He never imagined that he would see you again after that cold day in Miyagi. He had made a thousand scenarios in his head of how you two meet again: in some distant future you visit your hometown and he visits Hinata, and thus you meet in the park or on the street. You would have your own family, and he would have his. But that would happen in many years, not now. Not at this moment, when neither of you had grown enough... When he hadn't managed to forget you yet. But these weren't Koutarou's inventions, this was reality.

The incredible and stupid reality.

“I don't want to go in,” Bokuto said suddenly and stopped walking. “I’m not ready.”

Atsumu, who was already one step away from the door, turned to see him. Hinata collided with Miya's chest because he was walking right behind him.

“What are you talking about? Let's go in now” Atsumu said walking towards the ex-owl. “We didn't change the whole tour just so you don't go see your little girlfriend… We change it so you do! Don't be scared, do it now or you'll regret it for life. I remember how you talked about her during practice, and I even want to meet her after that! Come on dude, use the little braveness you have left.”

It seemed that Atsumu's words, or Hinata's smile next to him, made Bokuto take courage and head towards the entrance of the shop. 

A bell rang before three pairs of feet echoed through the small place. There was a great smell of chocolate that invaded every inch of the establishment. Hinata paced around the place until the sound of a door opening made the three teammates turn their heads to where the sound was coming from.

“Welcome, what can I offer-- So all of you are Sakusa Kiyoomi, huh?” Satori Tendou said, coming out of the back-room. “You see guys, I never believed this would happen. It makes me think a lot too… So, is Sakusa Kiyoomi even real?”

Atsumu, Hinata, and Bokuto were paralyzed in place for several seconds. The former Shiratorizawa monster stood with his hands on his hips, staring at them.

“Is it Sakusa Kiyoomi? Tell him I'm coming in a minute!” y/n yelled from the back room.

“Oh no, y/n, it’s someone much better!” Tendou replied, holding back his laughter. “You won't believe it even if you see this!”

Then, silence took over the place until a few quick steps interrupted it. A figure appeared through the door, with several boxes in their hands. A pile of boxes so big it covered their face.

“Help me, Satori, I'm going to fall” y/n complained, and after Tendou took out the boxes that covered her view, she saw her friend smiling widely. “What?”

Satori, who couldn't contain his laughter anymore, gestured with his head towards the three statues in the middle of the place. And finally, seeing her friend's face, he started to laugh out loud.

“Kou?”

“A-and Hinata!” shouted Bokuto nervously. Shoyo looked at him and then pointed at Atsumu.

“And also Atsumu!”

“And Saku– shit, we should have brought Omi-Omi after all…”

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Note: I am very very very very sorry for not posting this sooner, but I had thousand of things going on in my life. Now I’m better and ready to finish this beautiful, and crazy, love-story.

I hope you loved it as much as I did. I truly enjoyed it writing, and I’m happy to finish it too.

I’ll appreciate it a lot if you comment down below what you thought about the series. I’ll read you later -Tina.

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Tags in reblog!

Thanks for reading🥰

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Love On-Set (Pt. 07 of 10)

Pairing: Dacre Montgomery X Reader

Summary: You knew acting on Stranger Things season 3 would be a challenge, and you also knew, from the start, you'd have to work closely with Dacre Montgomery. But is wasn't a big deal for you, since this is your job and you're determined to act professionally. You had it all figured out, or so you thought, until the moment you were out face to face with Dacre. Then, this job became a lot harder than it was supposed to be, since you can't seem to focus whenever you're around Dacre. And you'll have to be around him a lot until the end of production.

Word count: 3 K

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{Dacre Montgomery Masterlist}

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

×

Kisses

The only reason why you didn't talk to Dacre at the airport was because you thought you'd have a couple of hours before shooting. But you were wrong. The flight was terribly late, and you had no choice but to go straight to set, and as soon as you got there, you and Dacre were pulled apart so you could get ready.

Already in your outfit, you stare at the mirror as your hairstylist gives the final touches, mumbling in response to whatever she's talking about. Your leg is bouncing nervously, as you regret not having called Dacre yesterday night. Or driven to his house. Anything really. Maybe it would a lot easier if you two had some time, but life has a way of complicating things.

“And you're ready,” Laura says and you manage to smile and thank her. “Now go before James comes yelling at us again.”

“Alright.” Mumbling under your breath, you stand up and leave the dressing room only to be rushed into the parking lot. Dacre is already there, talking to James. The wind makes you shiver and you brace yourself... Well, you think it's the wind that makes you shiver, what else could it be?

“...despite the delay, we'll get everything done in time so–” James swallows the words when he sees you. “(Y/N), great. Hope you made a safe trip here. I was just talking to Dacre about the upcoming scenes you two will shoot. There's just so much chemistry that I had to add more kisses.” Oh... You should've read the new script. “But I'm sure it won't be a problem since you two seem to be getting along very well.”

“Yeah, of course...” The first thing you'll do when you get to your hotel room is read every single line of this scrip. It'll be better if you're mentally prepared for what's to come.

But you're not prepared for this.

“Alright, everybody into position.” The director announces before walking away, leaving you and Dacre alone. Well, not exactly since you can't ignore the camera guys, the microphones... All the rest.

“Sorry, we couldn't talk before... This.” Dacre apologizes, but you shake your head slightly.

“But we will.” Nodding more to yourself than to him, you hope nobody is listening to this conversation. “Right?”

“Absolutely.”

“Alright, guys, c'mon,” James says and Dacre walks away as you take a deep breath. Thinking over the lines, you let yourself fall into character, remembering the backstory that leads to this moment. “Everybody set? Ok... Action!”

Turning around, you look at Dacre as he crosses the parking lot. “I can't believe you took almost an hour to get here, Hargrove!” You yell, walking to end the distance between the two of you. “There's a freaking Demidog in the pool!”

“The thing is dead. So why the hurry?” He flashes Billy's a cocky smile, and you struggle to keep the irritated expression on your face. “Chill.”

“Don't tell me to chill. Can't you miss one single date?” Giving action to Amy's jealousy attack, you punch Dacre in the chest, and he gives a small step back as he rolls his eyes. “Not even when there's an interdimensional monster involved?”

“Why the hell you always think I'm with some girl?” When you move to push him again, Billy grabs Amy's wrists. This was improvised, you think. Or is it on the new script? Dacre's grip is soft though, and you put on an annoyed face as you try to set free, uselessly.

“Because that's where you always are.” Putting a frustrating undertone in the sentence, you sigh. “But it doesn't matter. We have a much bigger fish to fry.”

“The damn thing is dead, it can wait.”

You get why Amy falls for Billy. Or are your fellings for Dacre clouding your judgment? Putting up a fight, you try to free yourself of his grip, making sure to stumble backward until your back hits a car. “Let go of me! I'm tired of this shit.” Slowly, Amy gives up fighting. Physically and emotionally. The moment you stop moving, Dacre let's go of your wrists, his arms coming to trap you in between the car and his body.

“I know you're jealous. I just need to figure out why.” Billy leans closer, and you can feel yourself drowning in Dacre's eyes, more beautiful than the ocean.

“I said it once and I'll say it again. I won't be one of your many flings...” Your voice is low, and as the cameras move closer, you know it's about to happen. God, it's so damn hard to keep up the act. You can feel Dacre's chest every time he breaths in, and you want to pull him even closer. “...so... Back the hell off.” Putting your hand on his chest, you know that the action that would make more sense here would be Amy trying to push him away again... But you fail to do that, Amy slowly disappearing as you break character for the hundredth time. Instead of pushing him away, your fingers slowly clench around the collar of his jacket, grabbing it. Dacre's eyes burn on you, and you know he wants it to.

“Who said I want you to be a fling?”

Then you don't know who moves first. If it's Dacre who leans forward or if it's you, pulling him. But it happens, fast and needy. First kisses shouldn't be like this. They're supposed to be short and sweet, shy even. But part of you is thankful for the situation you're in right now, because it justifies how you cling onto him, how deep the kiss is, hot and passionate. Billy and Amy were both craving for this moment, but so were you. And so were Dacre because his grip around you is tight, his lips keeping a quick pace, one that you're more than happy to follow. You hand find its way to his hair, as he holds the small of your back, needing to have you closer, if that even possible. The cameras are long forgotten, and there's no set, no show, nothing. Just his taste, fresh and sweet, inebriating. There's something in the background, some familiar sound trying to reach you, but you push it away, ignore it, tiptoeing even more to try and match Dacre's high, wishing he would lift you up.

“CUT!” James' voice sounds like a freaking thunder, and it wakes you up. With your heart beating insanely fast, you suddenly go back to reality, probably blushing harder than ever as you step away from Dacre. He takes a while to let go of you, intense eyes locked on yours as he tries to catch his breath, falling out of the stupor too. “That was... Good. That was good.” James says, and when you look around, you notice people staring. That wasn't... Discreet, and now you know that what you heard was James yelling ‘cut’ half a dozen times.

Running a hand through your hair, you have to fight back the urge to touch your lips, the kiss burning in your head... You really hope James will need another take.

“Are you ok?” Dacre asks, taking a quick look around before taking your hand in his.

“Yeah...” Biting your lip, you nod, staring at him. This just gave you a rush of adrenaline, making you feel brave. “More than ok, actually.”

Dacre's lips break into a smile, his thumb caressing the back of your hand. “Well, judging by James' obsession with the perfect lighting, I bet he'll need a couple more takes to get it done.”

“I really hope so. I–” You're cut short for a commotion. Several people move to surround James, who soon starts cursing. “What's going on?” You mutter, exchanging a glance with Dacre before walking over the sea of people. That's when you see the rest of the cast, and you just now remember they were here too... And they just saw everything... Millie won't let you hear the end of it.

“Who the hell did this?” James shouts, and a lot of people start apologizing. Giving the others a glance, you notice they have their eyes glued to their phones.

“Oh, no...” Something leaked, you're so damn sure. Rushing to the guys, you stand beside Noah, taking a look at his screen. “What happened?”

“The kiss. The first you shot. Someone here recorded and published on YouTube ten minutes ago.” As Noah speaks, he hands you over his phone and you read the news article he was reading. ‘Exciting scene from Stranger Things 3 leaks: Amy Halpert and Billy Hargrove are definitely a couple’.

“Shit.” You mutter, leaning closer to Dacre so he can read it too. “Who did it?”

“We have no idea,” Natalia answers, looking up from her phone. “But I watched it. Whoever did this stopped recording right before the cameras fell.”

This sucks. Giving Noah his cellphone back, you sigh. “It's really mean to do that. There's a lot of operations to keep the set free from curious eyes and someone from the inside leaks it? That's ridiculous.”

“James will sue whoever did this,” Dacre adds.

“Excuse me, guys.” Ryan comes, a tablet on his hand and a very worried expression on his face. “James wants you to stay here until we find out who did this.” He says, giving you a quick glance before looking back at his tablet. “You got the trailers here so... I think you'll be comfortable. Sorry, but James is–”

“RYAN!”

“James' orders. Sorry.” Rolling his eyes and sighing, he gives his back at you.

“We'll have to stay? I didn't do it.” Gaten exclaims, clearly pissed.

“Me neither. I was too busy watching the kiss with my own eyes.” Natalia complains but gives you a glance.

Well, you would like to get to your bed, but complaining won't help and you're exhausted from the flight. “I'm calling it a night.” You mutter, upset that this whole thing happened. The leaking, of course. “I'll take a shower to wash the 80's from my skin and I'll go see my trailer.” You haven't seen it yet, since it's meant for the Battle of Starcout scenes, which you'll probably shoot throughout the night.

“Me too,” Dacre says, then turning at you. “I'll find your trailer after if that's alright.”

“Sure.” Smiling, you blush to feel all those eyes on you. “See you soon, then.”

• • •

You're lucky to have your baggage here. Maybe the flight being delayed wasn't so bad as it seemed. After showering and handing the outfit back to your stylist, you follow her directions to where the trailers are. They're in the very back of the set, in a large area, set side by side. You're surprised to see the trailer doesn't look like a trailer on the inside, but like an actual house, only a little tiny. There's a main space with a couch, a table, and a TV, then a kitchen with a stove, an oven, and a sink. A bathroom with a shower. And on the very back, the thing you needed the most after this long day. A well-equipaded room with a huge bed. Smiling, you let your piece of baggage fall as you climb on the bed, lying on your back and sighing in relief.

Jumping back to your feet, you decide to change into something more comfortable. So you exchange your jeans for light gray sweatpants and a black spaghetti strap tank top before lying back down. You're happy you ate on the plane, or else you'd be starving right now.

But despite all the thoughts in your head, you can't help but come back to the main event of the day. Your fingers come to touch your lips, as you close your eyes to bring the memory back. You're upset you didn't get to do more takes. The cold and nervousness you were feeling vanished so quickly, at the same moment his lips collided on yours. So hot and intense. Breathtaking.

You're dragged away from your thoughts by a knock on the door. Dacre. He told you he'd come. Taking a deep breath and fixing your simple clothes the best you can, you make your way to the door, thinking you should've picked something better to put on. “Hey.” You mutter when you swing the door open, gesturing for him to come in. “Did you see your trailer?”

“Yeah. I stopped by to leave my luggage.” He answers, stepping inside and looking down at you. “These things look bigger from the inside.”

“Definitely.” Clearing your throat, you gesture at the back of the trailer, to the bedroom. You know how awkward it may be, but there's a burning on your back that won't let you sit on the couch. “I hope you don't mind but could we talk while I lie down? My back hurts real bad from the five hours we had to spend at the airport.”

“I don't mind at all.” Nodding, you walk back to the bedroom, throwing yourself on the bed. “So. Who do you think leaked the video?” Dacre asks as he sits on the edge.

“I have no idea. All I know is that is wasn't me. And it wasn't you.” Staring at the ceiling, you try not to feel very self-conscious right now. “I was too busy on scene.”

“Me too.” He mutters. “Where does it hurt, by the way?”

“On my shoulder blades.” You answer, looking at him. He looks very handsome, as usual, despite wearing a simple white T-shirt. “Those airport chairs weren't very nice to me.”

“I can give you a massage if you want.” Dacre stares at you dead serious, which means he's not joking.

You wish you had the adrenaline rush from earlier, so it'd push the words right off your mouth, and maybe you wouldn't be blushing. “Uhm... If you want to.”

“Alright, lie on your stomach.” He says, taking off his shoes and climbing on the bed.

“Fine.” Mumbling, more to yourself than to him, you roll over, grabbing a pillow to rest your head. Breathing deeply, you feel the mattress moving under Dacre's weight as he places himself beside you.

“Let me know if it hurts, alright?” The moment you nod, you feel his hands on your back. And he must know what he's doing because it does feel good. The butterflies on your stomach are wide awake now, since Dacre has his hands on you, strong but delicate at the same time, rubbing and softly pushing your muscles.

“If I knew you were good at this I'd have asked.” You say with a smile, pulling the small amount of hair that still falls on your back out of his way. Dacre gets this as a permission to put a little more pressure, just enough to make you relax. His fingers slide under the fabric of your shirt, but you don't mind.

“Glad I can help.”

You just mumble in response, suddenly feeling your tiredness taking over as you close your eyes shut. Falling asleep now is the last thing you want because it's so good to be around Dacre, and you think you may finally understand where you both stand in all this situation. What you're feelings are and if they can take you somewhere.

“It's ok, I'm alright now.” You speak up, moving to lie on your side. “If you continue I'll fall asleep in a matter of seconds.”

“If you're tired I can go.” He gestures at the door, already moving.

“No. Stay.” Bursting out, you sit up, grabbing his arm. You can't believe what you just said. What you just asked of him. “If you want, of course.”

Dacre stands still for a while, frozen before he settles down on the bed again. “Alright.” You can tell he's tired too, by the way his eyes are heavy.

“Let's play a game. Who sleeps first loses.” The idea comes suddenly to your head, and it seems to lighten up the mood.

“And what will I get when I win?” He has a cocky smile on his lips as he lies down, facing you.

“When? Don't get overconfident.” Moving a little to get comfortable, you take a deep breath when your eyes set upon his. Blue and calming. “I'm gonna win.” You say, winking at him.

“I really doubt that.” As he speaks, Dacre brings his hand to your face, fingers sliding from your forehead to your eyelids, forcing you to close your eyes. “You'll lose, so better start making peace with that.” His voice, low and deep, sends a shiver down your spine.

You were just about to answer, to say something, when you notice how his hand lingers, moving to caress your cheek, thumb rubbing the soft skin on your jaw until it reaches your chin. Slowly, painfully slow, it comes to your lower lip. His touch burns, making your head spin around. The memory of the kiss fills your head, and you know you want to do that again.

Swallowing hard, you gather all the courage you can to move closer to him, ending all the space between your bodies and, being really brave for once, going for the thing you want. That you need the most right now. You connect your lips to his, feeling relieved as if a burden was suddenly lifted when you feel him kissing you back. Dacre's hand remain on your cheek, and yours rest on his chest, feeling his muscles under the soft fabric of his shirt. The kiss is slower this time, as if you're both discovering, unrevealing each other. But you don't mind. You love it as much as you loved the other one.

It sucks when you have to break apart to breathe. But when you do, you remain close, your foreheads touching because you just can't force yourself to pull away from him now. “Sorry, I... I had to.” You mutter under your breath.

“It's alright.” Dacre's hand comes to encircle your waist, keeping you close. “If you didn't, I'd have to.” He giggles. “I've been dying to kiss you, (Y/N).”

“Me too.” You whisper. “What you said in the message... I feel the same way. That kiss... I really wanted it and that wasn't Amy, it was me.” Maybe it's the sleep winning over you, but the words just come out. You need him to know. You need to let it out and you hope it means something to him. “Dacre, I... I really like you. A lot.”

You blush when he smiles, but soon enough a giggle escapes your lips. “Then I'd like to take you on a second date. As soon as James lets us out of this set.”

“I'd love that.” Giggling like a teenager, you kiss him again, a peck on the lips that linger a little too long. But not long enough. “Uhm... You can crash here if you want.” You decide to offer since you just noticed you're already on the bed, all tangled on each other. “I think we already reached the point of no return here.”

“I agree...”

“Are we... Are we going to sleep like this?” You ask, putting a strand of hair behind your ear.

“However you like.”

Biting your lip to hold back a smile, you turn around. Dacre is fast to hold you, a strong arm pushing your back against his chest. “Is this ok?”

“Yeah.” You both move to get more comfortable and you lay your hand on top of his, on your stomach.

You've never been like that with anyone, so close, so... Intimate. But you like it. And you can't believe it's Dacre who's holding you this way.

×

@baker151910 @shinydixon @dreamin-of-dacre @hanoi15 @lickmymelaninn @foccus @multific @uncookspaget @kellysimagines @peakascum @thisbreakableheaven

[ahsxual]

Romantic Anniversary

Pairing: Patrick Verona x Reader

Summary: It's your birthday and Pat has prepared everything for your day be perfect.

Genre: Fluff Fluff and more fluff

Word count: 1,4k

A/N: This one is with Pat 🥰 He's sooo cute, I want to hug and give him kisses all over his face so badly 🥺 Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!

Patrick Verona. The name of the boy that makes sure you are happy everyday, the one who makes sure you feel loved every moment, the one who loves you as much as you love him. By his side, you feel so safe, so alive, and so lucky to have him, to have someone who cares for you so deeply and doesn't give up on you. Never.

He is seen as a rebellious and pathetic anti-social guy whose middle's name was trouble. Everyone, except you. And that's why he loves to assure you that he's so greatful for everything you have done for him, by loving you every way possible: from taking care of you when you're sick and wiping your tears away on the hardest moments, to offering you presents and being with you whenever he's available. However, today was a different day. A special and unique day. Why? Well, that's simple: because it was your day. The day where an angel and a precious kind soul was born to rescue him from the merciless darkness of the world. He wanted everything to be perfect for you: although he didn't care about school, he surely was way too perfectionist whenever you were the subject of the matter.

While you were with some friends during the day, reserving the entire night only for your dedicated and loving boyfriend, Patrick was setting all the things he bought for your birthday party: he bought balloons, your favorite cake with your cutest picture together on it, your favorite t-shirt and sweater, two tickets for the premiere movie that you wanted so badly to see and two rings with each others names on it, making your relationship official.

Saying that he was excited and anxious wasn't enough to describe how he really felt. He couldn't wait to see your big bright smile planted on your face, proudly knowing that he was the one responsible for it.

Hours passed and he was checking for the hundrenth time if everything was placed correctly, until your front door opened:

"Baabe, I'm home! I'm all yours now! " you said while putting your bag on the wooden hanger. You got no response, however you didn't worry too much about it once you saw all the red petals and lit candles that were dimming the dark space, leading to your bedroom. You slowly followed the lit path ahead of you, admiring how beautiful the view was.

When you reached your bedroom's door, you saw several red velvet hearts all over and white letters of the same material glued to it, saying: "Only allowed for my gorgeous goodness and future wife". Instinctively your eyes became wet and your vision turved from your happy tears that eventually shamelessly appeared, but you decided to wipe them and play his game instead.

"I'm sorry, but I wanted to know if I'm allowed to come in! " you spoke loudly, wanting to your not-yet-seen boyfriend to hear you.

"Identify yourself, miss." you heard him respond from the other side of the room. You smiled at this, remembering instantly how naturally you communicate, understand and joked around with each other with such little effort.

"My name is Y/n L/n, sir." after this, the door opened, revealing your lovely boyfriend whom owned a smile bigger than the sky and brighter than every single star on it.

"I've been waiting for you, my love. Make yourself at home." he joked, mimicking the gentleman of the old romance movies.

You couldn’t resist him anymore, so you immediately jumped on his arms and started kissing him hard, not caring on letting your emotions take control over you.

"Woow, someone was eager to see me, huh?" he moved a piece of your hair behind your ear so he could see and kiss you properly.

"You can't imagine how much, big boy." you said before kissing him again, this time slower yet passionately. When you pulled away, he placed you on the ground, giving you a last quick kiss before showing you the rest of his surprises: there was a small table on the corner of your room with your cake on it and several balloons of your favorite color around, attached to the table; on it were some red petals as well around the cake and some papers glued to it, all of them saying the reasons why he fell in love with you: "you helped and cared about me when no one else did", "you never believed any of those rumors about me and never judged me", "you always were kind, gentle, attentive and so so beautiful to me", "you are so silly like me, yet that's just one more reason to love you more, if that's even possible" and so many others. It was outstanding and simply perfect. When you got closer, you saw your favorite picture of yourselves printed on your cake.

"Oh my God Pat, this one was taken on our first date!" you said feeling nostalgic of one of your most memorable moments together. "You-you did all this? For me??" you could already feel new tears starting to form in your eyes.

"This and so much more." he promised, kneeling right after while still making eye contact with your overwhelmed eyes. You were confused, yet so excited to see what more he had planned for you. He took a small black velvet box inside of his back pocket and opened it to you, only to reveal two silver rings with your names on it: you were speechless by this.

"Pat, y-you didn't need to-" you couldn't believe this was actually happening.

"Shhh don't say that, of course I needed. And wanted it too." he then removed the one that had his name on it, before grabbing your hand delicately. "May I?" he questioned, waiting for your permission first.

"Of course, baby!" he was so happy and proud of himself to know you've reacted the way he was hoping for: his plan was going great so far. He slowly put the ring on your finger, while admiring how beautiful it was on you. "Well, I guess now it's my turn." you offered, after eyeing mindlessly how the ring looked on your finger. This gesture was way much more than you ever expected.

"Go ahead, sweet cheeks." he loved to call you every possible nickname, memorizing which one made your smile grew bigger. "The next ones will be put on our wedding." he said confidently, while looking at you as if you were the most marvelous woman alived.

"I'm so happy, Patrick! This is so, so perfect, I can't even believe you made all of this!"

"Why can't you? Are you underestimating me?" He complained, pretending to be offended.

"Of course not, silly! I just... I just didn't expect you to be so romantic." you teased while putting your arms around his neck, only to be gently grabbed by your waist in return.

"What can I say... I like to impress and show my princess what I'm capable of." he smiled once again, before kissing you.

"Oh by the way, it's such a shame that we will have to eat that delicious cake! I don't want to ruin the picture!! " he laughed at this, kissing you this time on the forehead instead.

"Well, it seems like we have to order more cakes like this one than, but with another picture." now was your turn to laugh.

The rest of the night was spent the best way possible: you opened the rest of the presents he had for you, saw your favorite movies together while eating your favorite snacks, danced with him, gossiped about your secrets that weren't already revealed while he told you about his, had pillow talks while he cuddled with you and listened so carefully to your opinions about several subjects... you couldn't be any happier. This was all you wished for: to spend your day by the side of your soulmate, your lover, your best friend. The only one who truly understands you... that night was sufficient proof that he was the right one and the only one for you.

[revchainsaw]

An American Werewolf in London (1981)

Welcome to the Cult of Cult! I am Reverend Chainsaw and Today we read from the book of 1st Lycanthropy and indulge in a truly impactful cult film; John Landis' An American Werewolf in London. As far back as I can remember I thought that being a Werewolf would be nothing short of bad ass, but An American Werewolf in London totally delivers in the horror of the affliction, a task all to often ignored by werewolf films.

The Message

An American Werewolf in London tells the story of an American Werewolf in London. The name is a quite apt plot summary in the way of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. You will know exactly what you're getting with this movie. Two young American men known as Jack and David are backpacking across Europe and they find themselves on foot travelling across the moors of Yorkshire. They discover an unwelcoming pub known as the Slaughtered Lamb. They quickly put off the patrons and are ominously warned about beasts that are out on the moors, but are ultimately made to leave the pub. While out in the moors the two boys are viciously attacked by a mysterious creature.

David wakes up in a London hospital and learns that his friend and Travel companion Jack was killed by the beast. David is held by the hospital and begins a romance with a nurse named Alex. Alex eventually lets David crash at her place and things get spicy. But the whole time David is beset by dreams and visions of violence, and wakes up in strange places like the London Zoo. One of his most recurring visions is the phantasmagoric image of his dead friend Jack providing macabre warnings and exposition about exactly what David is going through. Jack urges David to kill himself before he fully succumbs to his lycanthropic curse.

David's budding romance with Nurse Alex, and medical professionals insistence that he's just a little twisted in the head from his trauma leads him to ignore these prophecies and he eventually undergoes one of the best looking werewolf transformations ever put to screen. David eventually does try to off himself but it's too late and as a wolf he terrorizes the streets of London until Alex is forced to witness him mowed down by a shower of police bullets.

The Benediction

Best Aspect: The Horror! The Horror!

As I mentioned earlier many Werewolf movies simply insist that being a werewolf is a scary thing, but they play the 'curse' like a superpower. The monster doesn't attack anybody who doesn't deserve it or something. In An American Werewolf in London the curse of Lycanthropy feels constantly dangerous for both David and the people around him. There is always a tension that the next person he hurts will be someone he loves. The other downside that just ups the misery of the werewolf experience is the painful transformation, the social stigma of being a maniac who thinks he transforms into a wolf, and the mental torture of your victims ghosts haunting your waking hours. It's a truly terrible fate that has never been portrayed as powerfully before or since. Werewolves are often badass but they are rarely scary. This is not a problem for this film.

Worst Aspect: Comedy?

An American Werewolf in London is often touted as a great example of Horror Comedy. But here's the thing, the comedy is not very comedic. I've never watched this movie for a laugh. As mentioned above the overall tone of this film is bleak and nihilistic. It's a miserable fate and the film doesn't play it for laughs. It's a horror movie with effective levity, but it is not at all a comedy, I don't care what John Landis thinks. If this is a comedy, it's a piss poor one. That's not really a problem for me though, the horror is good enough.

Best Dialogue: Bedside Manner

In one of the above mentioned moments of levity that might actually qualify as the only joke that lands is when Nurse Alex is dealing with a little boy who's staying at the hospital. This precocious runt is giving her a difficult time by playfully responding "NO" to everything she asks of him. She then asks if he's "ever been severely beaten about the face and neck?" and it's pretty freaking funny. But it doesn't play as a gag, as much as a little insight into the wit of Nurse Alex's Character.

Best Effect: Obvious Winner is Obvious

Google "Best Werewolf Transformation" and I'm sure you will see this exact scene. If you have never seen An American Werewolf in London I am certain you've seen this sequence. If you haven't then you are severely missing out. Stop reading this right now and look it up. This transformation sequence alone is worth watching this film for, the good news is that there is a pretty great horror flick on both ends as well.

Best Sequence: Nightmarapalooza

The best sequence of An American Werewolf in London is another absolutely overplayed and obvious answer. The Nightmare that David has in the hospital that features a violent invasion of gun toting, dog faced Nazis blowing the place to hell is pretty much a weird ass 80s metal music video in the middle of a werewolf movie and it provides just enough novelty to this film to set it apart from your typical full moon fare.

Honorable Mention: Moon's Out

There's full on butt in this movie. So if you like butt's. It's full of butt.

Summary

An American Werewolf In London falls into the category of movies that it almost feels like a waste of time to review, but it also falls squarely into the category of movies that are the whole reason that I do this for myself. This is a personal project of getting my feelings about these kinds of spooks out.

An American Werewolf in London is on an objective level the best Werewolf movie out there for your money. It's honestly a shame we don't have more, but we'd need about a hundred more before we can beat this picture. On a subjective level American Werewolf is still not my favorite. The carnage is slow to arrive, but when it finally does it is well worth the wait. The characters are not particularly charming or engaging. I spend a lot of time waiting for my favorite parts to happen and not particularly enjoying the spaces in between. Some horror flicks set up an atmosphere that just makes the whole film feel like a part of the cohesive horror experience and this movie doesn't. It has too much of a love story between two not particularly loveable characters. It's never a bad time to watch, it's just not as fun as you'd expect the "best horror comedy ever' to be.

To keep it short, An American Werewolf in London is a bleak and frightening monster movie with positively impressive special effects that hold up 40 years later. You have to see it.

Overall Grade: A

[evermorehaikyuu]

hiii, not sure if you remember me cause I sent you an ask as an anon before (abt reading your angstember series which I totally loved) but yeaaa.. sooo I've been meaning to ask you this for a while now.. 🙈 can you please make an angst but with fluff ending oneshots for either of my fake blonde bois (tsumu, kenma, terushima) and maybe my baby akaashi.. doesn't need to be long tho, and I'd read anything under your comfort zone ♥️ hehe sml for you and your blog. 🍀xoxo

omg YES I DO REMEMBER YOU! You were the one saying something about Atsumu, Kenma and Akaashi and I was so happy about the ask! I’ll do all of them, thank you for coming in and requesting more angst (to fluff, but no matter, I would love to do it because I have some ideas hehehe). More love for you nonie you deserve the world. All of the boys are under the cut! Also, about three of these are really light angst, so let's get going!

Yet Another Mishap

Terushima had not expected things to turn out the way they did. It wasn’t part of the plan. Y/N's body, cold in his arms, was never part of the plan

His hands shook as he closed her eyes and tears streamed down his cheeks as he gulped and said with a shaky voice, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, this is all my fault and because of me, you're dead. I loved you so much, maybe I shouldn't have. Because if I didn't, you'd still be here. Y/N, I love you, I love you so much. Please...stay safe wherever you are now. You can be at peace now."

With heartwrenching sobs, he hugged her body close to him and let out every single bawl within him. Everything hurt. She was gone. It was his fault. He'd have to live with the fact that he had practically killed her.

"Cut! That's a wrap."

Y/N's eyes popped open as she grinned. "That was good--Yuuji?!"

Terushima was genuinely crying as he kept hugging her close to him and wailed, "I don't want you to die, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

Y/N chuckled a bit as she held him in her arms and tried to comfort him. "I'm not going to die Yuuji, it was just part of the scene. Come on, we have to move, it's Futamata's turn next."

Terushima and Y/N had been co-stars and incredibly close for months. Just the thought of losing her made him almost break down. But with a squeeze of her hand, he realized he was okay.

Everything was okay.

~

Found Again

"Are you listening to me?" Y/N growled at the blond boy, who scoffed at her.

"You're kidding me. You've got to be kidding me. There is no way you're actually mad about this." Atsumu tried to walk over to her only to have her take several steps back.

"Get away from me. You're a cheater, you're a liar, you tricked me into falling for your plan and now I've lost it all! This is all your fault, Atsumu Miya!" Y/N screamed as she crossed her arms and glared at the floor as if trying to burn a whole into it.

"It was just a game! It was just Uno!" Atsumu couldn't help but laugh at the moment, making her stare up at him.

They had been playing Uno for the past hour to kill time as Osamu went out to get dinner for the three of them. Atsumu had the genius idea to play Uno, thus winding them up in their current situation.

"It wasn't JUST Uno, you cheated!" Y/N huffed. Atsumu pulled her into his arms and her body's immediate instinct was to melt into him.

"Aw, come on, don't be mad. We can play again and this time I promise I won't cheat."

"You're on. You better not cheat." Y/N shuffled the cards again and smiled at the boy across from her, grateful to have him in her life.

~

Messed Up

"Please come back, I miss you." Y/N said over the phone, a little whimper coming out of her as her voice trembled. "Please, Kenma, please."

"No, Y/N. No matter how many times you beg for me to come back, I'm not going to. You destroyed my trust. You destroyed us." Kenma's voice was twisted in another emotion and Y/N could sense it.

"I'm sorry, it won't happen--"

"Again? You're kidding me. This is the third time you've done it, I don't know why I keep coming back to you."

"How am I supposed to play when you've never taught me?!" Y/N screamed. "Come back, our village is burning down!"

Kenma and Y/N were both playing Minecraft and this was going to be the third time she let the village burn down and it had taken them so many hours to design them again. Kenma had gone hunting while Y/N stayed behind.

"This is why I should've bought you a headset. Okay, okay, fine, I'm coming back. But if I see fire, I'm kicking you out of my server."

Y/N look at the torches in the village and said, "Do torches count?"

"Yes."

"Damn it, Kenma!"

~

Same Things

Akaashi started pacing his room, trying to think of an excuse as to why he didn't want to go with Y/N. He had a reason why he didn't want to go but it would be invalid in her eyes and thus breaking her heart. Maybe he was leading her on, maybe not. Either way, he needed a plan.

"Akaashi, I'm back!" Y/N called out from the doorway. "Are you ready to go?"

Akaashi waited until she stepped into the room to confront her. "I'm sorry, Y/N, I have something to do tonight."

Y/N frowned and crossed her arms. "Akaashi, stop lying to me. You have a tell when you're lying."

"I'm not lying." He said, fibbing through his teeth. "I can't go."

"We've been married for 3 years, do you think I'm that brainless?" Y/N asked. "What are you doing tonight?"

Akaashi had to tell her. It would break her heart, but at least he'd be honest. "I don't want to go see the movie you want to see."

"Akaashi, but it's a classic!"

"It's the same Shrek over and over again! I'd rather watch something else at home with you."

Y/N groaned as she facepalmed. "If you come with me, we can watch whatever you want later."

"Deal. Let's go see the movie you call a classic."

"It is a classic, Akaashi."