#he entertains himself hanging out with Clockwork

[nelkcats]

Fake Batman

Despite the years he had spent in the Realms and how much he had changed, Danny could admit that he missed being a hero, or at least a vigilante of sorts. Being a King was stressful and everyone asked for his opinion, something that had improved over the years but had never completely changed.

So when Clockwork told him that there was a hero named "Batman" in another dimension, he was interested. Mainly because the people there seemed to think Batman was a ghost or connected to the supernatural, when in reality he was just an ordinary person.

Sure, he was also a billionaire but everyone had their flaws and Danny didn't plan to hold that against him. Someday he would meet a normal billionaire with no hidden agendas, he was sure.

Batman had children too, even though he "worked alone" and the halfa was very interested. So much so, that when his mentor asked him if he wanted to spend a vacation in Gotham pretending to be the vigilante he agreed without much trouble.

It seemed that Batman had been badly hurt and people were starting to lose their fear of him, something that was critical in Gotham. So Danny agreed to his mentor's request and imitated the Bat's costume as best he could, adding a more supernatural effect than usual.

It wasn't long before Bruce found out about his double. A double who was doing his job very well and scaring his villains while he remained in bed, he would be grateful if it wasn't so worrisome.

[itshype]

How I Met Your Brother (DC x DP)

Dan joins the Justice League - not as part of his rehabilitation, but as a reward for doing so well.

Tucker makes the grave mistake of mentioning Dan in front of Jazz. And as an eldest sister myself I would not be happy about an alternate version of my sibling being left completely alone in the world, no support, no family to then be turned into a psychopath. And I would be furious for them to then be imprisoned - not for life but for all time?

However, unlike me, Jazz is the world's foremost authority on ghost psychology. She has Dan out of his Thermos and in a larger enclosure within the week.

Now, a lot of fics have Jazz as a magical therapist who can say a few sentences and make any bad guy cry. Sorry, not today though.

First, they resocialise Dan like a feral cat (solitary confinement does make people get loopy), sitting outside his enclosure and hanging out, doing homework etc. This sort of gets him to figure out emotionally that he's no longer in the timeline where everyone he ever cared about died.

Danny discusses with him how many nightmares he's had over just the idea of losing his entire support network the way Dan did and he can't imagine what he's been through. But no emotions are not, in fact superior to having negative emotions.

After a few months, he decides that he does in fact want to actively try and get better. He goes to a therapist (because family members can't do therapy!!!) who's just unhinged enough to get a kick out of counselling a ghost from an alternate timeline.

There's only one relapse. Clockwork fixed it and they don't talk about it.

A month or so later they let him out of the enclosure for good. They offer to symbolically destroy it but Dan thinks they should keep it just in case.

While Dan's humanity has returned, his actual human half is gone forever. But he's interested in doing something with himself. He can't get a GED, or a degree, or be an astronaut. Maybe something in entertainment?

Tucker makes the grave mistake of mentioning that the Justice League headquarters are in space. Dan isn't as powerful anymore now he's no longer a halfa, but he knows he's handy in a fight. He loves space and due to having them repeatedly and ineffectively implemented against himself - a deep knowledge of international war tactics.

NGL, this isn't where I thought this story was going. But Dan is now an international politics, war policy and foreign affairs expert, I guess.

He helps a fair bit on the team, but his key contributions are his encyclopaedic predictions of how different international communities will react to events. If an out of control meta in Paris takes down the Eiffel Tower, he predicts which countries will immediately 'crack down' on their superpowered citizens - that sort of thing. It's invaluable for their PR team and young meta safety.

He's a friendly guy, doesn't judge anyone for losing control of their powers or going 'too far' on a villain who hurt their friends and family. And he never shuts up about his kid brother who is apparently also his best friend. He briefly mentions a baby sister he's never met and that makes everyone pretty sad.

He doesn't consider this Jazz his sister. He's already had a sister named Jazz and isn't looking for a 1:1 replacement. This Jazz is more like a mum-friend. However, he never had a Danny or an Ellie in his last life.

"My little brother told me about the trick to this level in Doomed 17, want me to explain what you're missing?"

"Sorry, I really can't possess you, even for 'anti mind-control' training. That isn't how overshadowing works, you can't become immune without exposure to ectoplasm in dangerous doses. No, I can't get you some pure ecto, my baby brother would kick my ass to hell."

"Yeah, my baby bro and I both wanted to be astronauts, I died so it's not in the cards for me anymore, but he has a real shot still, we're all rooting for him!"

Most Justice League members think he's a dead eldest brother with living siblings he's still in close contact with.

It's all fun and games until he tries to take a bullet for Batman during an ambush and it's actually an amnesia ray designed to make Batman forget about a specific case until the bad guy can complete his plan.

"I killed you all before, and I will do it again."

[biinkspacewp]

I. Definition of Insanity

PAIRING: finnick odair x fem!oc

SUMMARY: Finnick keeps Alexa company at a capitol party.

WARNINGS: illusions to sex work, mentions of drugs and death, dissociation

series masterlist

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PRETENDING WAS THE EASY PART. That’s what she told herself. It was almost second nature at this point. Repressing what she felt and instead putting on an act, showing people what they want to see. It was easier that way, less barbaric, when she followed along.

The Capitol parties were always a good test of her patience. Alexa was always pushed to the limit to see if she could disguise the loathing and repulsion she felt for all of them. It was partnered with an intense sense of guilt that would catch her by surprise every time she was happy to see another victor there, like a snake coiling around her ribcage and squeezing til she was out of air and she couldn't hear anything but her heartbeat in her ears.

It was twisted in a way. She would be glad to see another familiar face only to be blindsided by the burning anger at herself for being happy when another person is stuck in the same situation she was. She figured she’d eventually get over the self-loathing, but apparently she had enough hate in her heart to go around.

It was a hate that increased tenfold when an arm wove itself around her waist and pulled her into a conversation like she was actually interested. She was definitely getting better at faking it. The smile she felt on her face never would have fooled anyone seven years ago.

Seven years ago she never would have expected to have Capitol viruses hanging all over her either. Touching her hair, her face, her shoulders, any part of her that they could reach. They would dote on her like she was a shiny new pet. To them she was. Nothing more than a brand new toy they got to play with.

Alexa barely paid attention to anything the man was saying, a drink practically being forced into her hand. She could drink it and hope it wasn’t roofied, that it would be strong enough so she could blur through the next few hours. Or she could skip the risk of it being drugged and instead run the risk of him getting disproportionately upset because how dare she deny his kind gesture.

His hands were wandering, they always did. Like clockwork they pushed a strand of hair from her face, fiddled with her necklace and trailed across her collarbone, traced up her ribcage and stopped just below her chest, not daring to be improper in a public setting. Alexa was sure he was saying something, but she couldn’t seem to hear him, all her interest absorbed by the drink in her hands.

It was in intriguing shade of purple, with glitter sparkling throughout the glass. She knew from experience that sometimes the most appetizing looking food in the Capitol had the most revolting tastes and affects. If she never smelled cinnamon and licorice again she could die happy.

She didn’t have much time to contemplate her drink further, or pretend to entertain the man who attached himself to her before he let her go like she had the plague and disappeared. The man who took over his place was definitely an upgrade and one she couldn’t be happier to see, despite the devil on her shoulder screaming that she was a horrible person for thinking it.

Finnick Odair never did have a humble presence. He was dressed in an obnoxiously nice suit that didn’t match his style at all, no doubt provided by a stylist like her dress was. Alexa wondered if the horrible color matches were a joke by President Snow, Finnick’s suit an interesting deep purple that did nothing for his complexion and her’s an oddly bright orange that she never would consider commissioning a piece in. She did favor the purple of Finnick’s suit over the purple of the drink she was handed though.

“You look like a highlighter.”

“And you look like a cluster of grapes.”

“Did you know that grapes aren’t actually purple? They’re red, they just paint them purple.”

There was a long pause as Alexa stared at him, her eyebrows drawn together and her mouth slightly open. The smile on his face almost made him look like he was proud of what he just said. Maybe he was.

“I know about the grapes,” she retorted, finally discarding the sparkling glass to the counter behind her, as far away from her as she could manage without looking strange. “What did you say to him to make him flee so quickly?”

The change of subject was harsh, but if she focused on the fact that she was dressed like an oversized construction cone any longer, she was going to fling herself from the balcony.

Finnick just shrugged, moving closer and leaning against the bar next to her.

“I told him that Mersa Bardot has had her eyes on you all night and that seemed to do the trick.”

Alexa’s lips parted just enough for her to take in a sharp breath, whipping around to stand in front of him so she could look him in the eyes.

“You didn’t.”

“I definitely did.”

“You idiot,” she jabbed him lightly in the ribs. “If word gets around that Bardot is looking at me, she might actually get some ideas.”

“Come on. You can’t deny that she would be better than whatever he had in mind.”

His lips quirked up as he saw her actually consider his words, her eyes narrowing when she reached the conclusion that he was probably right. He knew she was partial to men, but he also knew that women were preferable. They were often slightly more considerate when it came down to it, even if it was nothing more than just ignoring them instead of tormenting them.

His posture relaxed when he heard her sigh in acceptance. She nearly collapsed back into her spot against the bar, Finnick sliding an arm over her shoulders so she could lean against him. All the fight she had in her to go back and forth with him was drained from her body, her energy slowly leaving now that she didn’t have a client to please. She was sure that they’d be punished for not mingling at the party and pushing their assets later, but currently Alexa wasn’t really sure she cared.

“Have you seen Cashmere tonight? I heard a couple people asking about her as I was making my rounds.”

Finnick always was softhearted, looking out for everyone even when it wasn’t for his benefit. She wouldn’t deny it if someone said that she was softhearted as well. After all, it only took a mutual understanding for her to feel for someone’s situation, but there was something about the way Finnick cared about others that was beyond genuine.

“She was here last week. I’m pretty sure she was sent home until the reaping.”

This caught his attention. Why would Alexa know Cashmere was here unless she was too.

“Did Snow have you here last week? Last week and this week?”

She simply nodded her head, too exhausted to meet his eye or respond verbally. The more she thought about how long she’d been in the Capitol recently, the more she seemed to shut down. She decided that if she just didn’t think about it, it was like it wasn’t happening at all. It was like a vague nightmare she was stuck in that she’d wake from eventually.

“But last week was your birthday. Don’t tell me he made you work on your birthday.”

She shook her head no this time. Technically she never worked on her birthday, she just worked two days before and the day after.

“No, I worked a few days last week but not my birthday.”

“Have you been home at all then?”

He didn’t really need the answer to that. It was obvious that she hadn’t been home in a few weeks. After the party tonight, they’d probably get lucky to go home the next day and stay until the reaping, where they’d inevitably be shipped back to the Capitol with their tributes and mentor partner.

She never responded but Finnick kept talking anyway.

“Don’t worry. I’ve already got your gift ready for you when we come back for the games. Would have given it to you tonight but I wasn’t sure if you’d be here so I didn’t bring it. I bet your family’s got everything ready for you back home too.”

She hummed along to him, grabbing his hand and shifting it down to her side so she could play with his fingers as her eyes closed. She hadn’t truly relaxed since she’d gotten to the Capitol. Finnick figured if he could give her a sense of comfort, even if it was small and temporary, he’d allowed her to enjoy every minute of it.

He’s seen where she goes when she’s left on her own, like a ghost floating around somewhere in the recesses of her mind while her body just goes though the motions. He’s been there before, Alexa being the person to ground him. He wasn’t going to let anyone bother her until she was ready. Not if he could help it anyway.

[brilliantfantasticgeronimo]

rewatching the idiot's lantern

visuals: this episode's direction is amazing, ya'll. really underrated. the use of slanted angles gives what could be a standard period YA story stand out, and it gives it a kind of... splashy, noir-but-colorful vibe. it also fits really well with the whole "telly gone wrong" thing the story is going for. the faceless ones effect is simple but effective, the telly lady is iconic, and don't get me started on rose and ten's iconic rockabilly outfits... colonialism / hegemony: some interesting lines: "we may have lost the empire, but we can still be proud" / "only an idiot hangs the union flag upside down". there's a line from ten that's really funny about "this is the queen's england! not being men in black or stalinist russia",,, stealth anti-communist propaganda is always hilarious but specially hilarious in november 2023 when sunak is pushing the "anti-terrorism" card to jail palestine marches (and starmer would rather be die than call for a ceasefire). this ep is interesting also in that it's a good example of brittish pop culture trying to re-build a sense of identity after being "beaten" as an empire. so in the story, the coronation itself must retain its importance, the monarchy can't be questioned... but it seeks to reframe its importance in "the domestic" and entertainment sphere ("this is history right here"). make no mistake tho, it is still very patriotic. the dad gets called out not for being a Proper briton and not hanging The Flag Correctly... overall tho it's fun to see a conservative ass get his own rhetoric used against him (by the doctor, by rose, by tommy, and by the mother). And i think this episode makes the correct analysis in showing how the "patriotic veterans" ideology is fueling the neo-facists of today's uk (See: the "poppies sellers are afraid to leaver heir home" circus last week). themes: i used to think s2 didnt have much of a cohesive theme compared to s1 or s3 but now i think im starting to notice one emerging: the resistance against modernity and the passage of time. this episode is a good partner to rise of the cybermen/Army of steel with one talking about "phone updates and blootooth but they can mind control" and "what if tv melts ur brain"... in both the evil bug eyed monsters make those fears literal... but the real moral crutch is, pherhaps more than "phone bad"... that people become complicit and compliant to everything happening on the world around them. and that those who rebel against this apathy are virtuous in doing so (see The Preachers, tommy, etc). I also think this theme fits really well with School Reunion (sarah jane coming to terms with her ageing, rose coming to terms with her eventual death / the death of her relationship with the doctor, the "disco" aspect of k-9 being ridiculed but then showing to have value) and then with GiTf, with the clockwork robots being a probable (unintentional?) metaphor for monarchy and "obsolete" technologies that linger on.

Character of the day highlight: The telly-lady is such a good one off villain. Every time she says "IM HUNGRY" "FEEEDMEEE" it was hilarious and great. The whole family is also all get a moment to shine. "I did what I thought was right" and "That's my mother" were really arresting. On a negative point though, I would have cut the inspector guy, his death did not hit hard enough because he just didn't have enough screentime in this one. The Timeless Child bonus: Ten's bonding with the kid serves really well as parallel to himself. Tecteum would have a lot in common with the dad this episode so it's kind of cool that in that way, The Doctor gets to stand up for themeselves.

Companion watch: Ten and rose are very clever in this one.not in a wow million years of techbobabble clever or high functioning psychopath clever way but like, good ol fashion connecting cues, knowing how to push ppl's button and who to talk to get information. I would say these are about apathy, and [falling in line]. there's also an interesting character point of her being more invested in things working out for his family which as i said in another post, honestly takes off some of the sensationalism i've seen around her telling the kid to talk to his dad.

Misc: Missed a trick by not having ten say NOTHING IN THE WOKR DCAN STOP ME NOWW in That Scene. this ep also vibes well with s1 in that tommy is Inspired to save the day (i wish he had more time to bond w/ 10/rose so this Hit more, but as it is, it's perfectly fine. it's more of a "this person was already great and they didn*t *need* the doctor and co, but it's nice that they helped anyway").

[hargrove]

「 christmas : As a kid, Christmas was the one day that Billy looked forward to the most. Neil was an abusive asshole of a father, but to him, appearances were everything. No one knew what went on behind closed doors, because Neil went out of his way to present himself as the perfect husband/father with the perfect family. That meant that on Christmas, they had to play the part. It was the one day that Billy knew there’d be no yelling or hitting. That’s not to say the Hargrove household was full of love. He and his mom, Lori, still walked on eggshells, but for once, they could breathe a little in relief.

Lori was great at baking. She’d make every sort of Christmas treat one could think of. When he was little, Billy would help by licking the mixing spoons clean and keeping his mom entertained by singing and dancing to Christmas carols.

An unspoken tradition that was his favorite was every Christmas Eve, the family would sit down for a movie ( of Neil’s choosing, of course ). Like clockwork, Neil would pass out ten minutes in from drinking too much eggnog. That’s when Lori would change the movie to Billy’s favorite, Little Drummer Boy ( 1968 ), and they’d snuggle under a blanket together and watch it while eating too many cookies.

The Hargrove’s first Christmas after Lori left was completely joyless. Neil tried to keep up appearances that everything was ok, but Billy only did what he was told out of numbness, holding onto the hope that come Christmas morning, his Mom would be standing under the tree. Not only was she not there, but he didn’t get a gift or even a card from Lori. It was the day that Billy finally realized that he’d been abandoned and his mom was never coming back.

When the Mayfield’s entered his life, Billy had grown beyond hoping for happiness. He resented Susan and Max, thinking of them as only a reminder of the family he doesn’t have. Their first Christmas together, Billy had said something rude to Susan when she gave him a gift. In retaliation, Neil hit him hard, which caused Billy to fall into the Christmas tree and knock it over. The whole ordeal created the unspoken agreement that on Christmas, Billy would stay as far away from home as he could. He’d disappear to hang out with friends, drink, be with girls, or whatever else distraction he could find, and Neil never tried to stop him.

For Billy, Christmas has remained a day that brings him only pain. He does everything he can to pretend it’s nothing more than a regular day. If he doesn’t receive a card from his mom on a regular day, that’s no big deal. But if he allows himself to think it’s Christmas and he got no card, it hurts too much.

In my main verse where he survives and returns to Hawkins when Vecna opens the portals, Christmas takes on a new meaning for him. Learning about what happened to Max has knocked him down a few pegs. He wants to repair what he can of his relationship with his stepsister, and that means celebrating Christmas again. It’s not easy for him, and he definitely won’t do the full 180 that the Grinch did, but he at least wants to be with Max on that day. 」

[sepublic]

            Let’s talk Soundwave in the Nizziverse. Soundwave and Blaster were both part of the same body frame devised under Fuctionist rule; Members of this niche were designed to act as comms experts, helping to facilitate radio waves, receive and send signals, all that jazz. Some were stationed on colonies to help establish contact with Cybertron, others stayed on Cybertron itself to keep the airwaves running.

         It was your typical job of helping with the news, being in charge of transmission towers, often being said transmission towers. These Cybertronians also played a role in decoding and analyzing alien frequencies, as part of the empire’s larger effort to engage with and ultimately conquer other civilizations. Scouts would use sonar imaging to create maps of new worlds and their local terrain.

         To aid these Transformers, smaller Cybertronians known as Cassettes were devised, acting as scouts who could record visual and auditory data, before reporting back to a handler to physically connect with them. Data would be transferred, and the handler could act as both storage and transporation, as well as as an amplifier for whatever their Cassettes had observed.

         Wireless communications were one way to receive their data, but sometimes the Functionists were paranoid of enemies tuning in to said transmissions and figuring out what the Empire knew; Physical transfer avoided this. Likewise, interference from the local environment was another motivator. Most importantly, the Functionists, for all their faults, recognized the value of physical copies, and the Cassettes were designed among many reasons to serve this purpose, contributing to an effort to create backups and other records to fall back on.

         Vocoded voices were the default, as these Transformers could narrow down their tune to impersonate any sound and especially voices for replay function, as well as entertainment purposes too. Many members of this body frame were sociable and often played music to the delight of those around them.

         Soundwave and Blaster served this niche in the waning days of the Functionist regime. Blaster did media and propaganda propagation, serving in public radio networks and broadcasts, hence his more extroverted and playful personality. By contrast, Soundwave was a recluse even amongst his fellow brethren, designed to handle long stretches of loneliness in assisting communications between distant colonies and Cybertron. This often meant being stationed by himself on asteroids to boost signals, made not to have a voice or thoughts of his own, but merely to relay those of others.

         Soundwave was eventually moved back to Cybertron, to facilitate airwaves in the backwater, quieter regions of Cybertron. Due to his own natural disposition and the conditioning of his environment, Soundwave didn’t really hang out with his coworkers, instead studiously attending to his job before leaving, exactly by clockwork. Contrary to popular belief, Soundwave DID have his own ideas and reflections, but his silent and introverted personality made it easy for people to assume he was just a mindless grunt, a perfect gear for the Cybertronian machine who was bored and aloof.

         Some found him a creep or cold, like talking to a wall, others would joke or gossip behind his back with the occasional rumor of what he did back in his apartment. He often became ignored as just a setpiece, a part of the background; But little did people know, they underestimated Soundwave’s ability to observe. He was always listening, and remembering, and in his spare time liked to make physical records to keep tabs on those around him.

         Soundwave meant no malice, it was just his only way of socially engaging with others, since doing so in real time was difficult and complicated and constantly changing. But when in retrospect, everything was set and easy for Soundwave to analyze and reflect on afterwards. He had other hobbies and deep interests, enjoying research, and was also dedicated to media preservation, collaborating with others online as a faceless account.

         Being online gave Soundwave a lot more freedom to express himself and talk to others in (relatively) real time. He participated in servers where Cybertronians took it upon themselves to gather and record lost pieces of media and history, and this eventually led Soundwave down a rabbit hole into forums filled with rather dissident ideas and data. Due to his expertise, Soundwave was able to keep his location encrypted, safe from government surveillance.

         This activity planted certain ideas in Soundwave’s head. So when he did his usual hobby of listening in on local airwaves as a voyeur, he caught wind of a gladiator’s scathing deconstructions of the Functionist regime. Known as Megatron, this local of Kaon waxed poetic in his theses about the government’s corruption and outdated policies, and Soundwave felt himself enamored with the charisma of this mysterious voice.

         Megatron had no idea Soundwave was listening, as he was skilled in encryption in ways even official surveyors weren’t. By all means, he should’ve reported this scandal to those in charge of censorship and keeping the peace… But that wasn’t HIS job, technically. So Soundwave didn’t, and fell in love with Megatron’s daring ideas. Soundwave had felt like he led an admittedly empty, meaningless existence, just going on through the motions as an ideal cog in the great Cybertronian machine.

         But Megatron’s ideas gave Soundwave purpose, and an actual future to look forward to, rather than an ever-present now. So Soundwave participated in isolated forums dedicated to this growing rebellion, made contact with Megatron behind an anonymous account, and eventually tracked him down. Megatron was deeply surprised and disturbed to be so easily found out, but Soundwave instead knelt and pledged loyalty to his cause, proclaiming Megatron to be a visionary that Cybertron needed.

         It quickly became apparent that Soundwave’s unwavering dedication was genuine, and Megatron recruited him as a second-in-command, ecstatic for Soundwave’s talents. Soundwave used his abilities to broadcast and relay Megatron’s speeches across Cybertron, keeping their location hidden while exposing countless Transformers to ideas of rebellion; In the early stages of the rebellion, he was a key founder and player. 

        His valuable work helped facilitate communications between rebel cells, enabling greater collaboration and effort, and it was in this effort that Soundwave first came across as Blaster, who operated as part of Optimus Prime’s cell. On the surface, Soundwave remained as seemingly aloof and stoic as ever, and many rebels didn’t understand why Megatron held him in such good faith. They figured Soundwave could easily rat them out, especially with his great trove of data and nearly singular access, but Megatron reciprocated Soundwave’s unwavering trust.

         Megatron encouraged Soundwave to speak up more, take more of a leadership role, as he became privy to just how much of a thinker he was after Soundwave felt comfortable in opening up and talking about his thoughts to the gladiator. Megatron recognized Soundwave’s potential, although many derided him as an ‘uncharismatic bore’ who was always wandering in his own head. Again, Soundwave played the role of support, but it was a role he actually chose this time; He genuinely believed afterwards that his life had no purpose until he met Megatron.

         As Megatron encouraged Cybertronians to think outside of the box and apply their talents in ways the Functionists didn’t intend, but that they were just as good for, Soundwave took his hobby of voyeurism and observation to the next step. When the rebellion became more intense, Soundwave acted as a hacker, working with his Cassettes to spy on Functionists and even those within the rebellion, as a means of keeping tabs on everyone. Soundwave dug up dirt and had it physically uploaded to a hard copy, in case the rebellion ever needed to strong arm someone into cooperating for the greater good.

         Soundwave exposed corruption through his work, and used sonar imaging to study what happened inside during stake-outs. His Cassettes infiltrated and downloaded important data, while also uploading sabotaging viruses. Soundwave became a master of surveillance, blackmail, and encryption, and garnered an even worse reputation amongst the rebels for it. He was often considered Megatron’s stooge, his eyes and ears, his little spy; Not that Soundwave minded what others thought of him.

         He also stretched the boundaries of his intended role in other ways, eventually learning combat and especially assassination, which Soundwave facilitated through his cassettes. Modifications weaponized his sonar imaging to become devastating sonic blasts, which under the right frequencies could shatter and expose key weak points. Soundwave also used this ability for interrogation and torture, as data continued to become an even bigger part of his existence. His vocoded voice could now be used to impersonate others, essentially catfishing for the rebellion.

         Appropriately, Soundwave eventually led a division of others of his body frame who also supported the rebellion. They acted as Megatron’s personal agents, carrying out the aforementioned tasks on an even wider scale. As the rebellion evolved into full-out war, members on both sides spread rumors that Soundwave could even hear the thoughts of those around them, and to be wary as a result.

         When the rebellion achieved victory, Soundwave helped personally announce the defeat of the Functionist regime, and the triumph of liberty. He attended celebrations afterwards with Megatron, showing a bit more personality than usual and even letting go a bit, playing music and his favorite tunes. It was during this time of peace that Soundwave got to know Optimus Prime, another one of Megatron’s close friends. 

        Likewise, as his brethren (such as Blaster) narrowed their vocoders down to individual voices, to assert their own individual identity, Soundwave kept himself vocoded. In his eyes, he was already given a voice of his own by Megatron, and anyhow he had his own duties to attend to.

         Under the new government, Soundwave enjoyed much more freedom like every other Cybertronian, and due to his prior combat experience, participated with Megatron in invading other worlds for their Energon; The planet needed repairs after a costly rebellion. The functions of Soundwave’s body type further expanded and were facilitated in such fields with the invention of Reedman’s unique frame (if it can be called that), as Cassettes were now employed and expected in warfare and assassination. Soundwave of course was a key player in displaying and establishing this modern precedent/feature of his type.

         Soundwave and his Cassettes’ newly-discovered talents applied on the battlefield as they did against the Functionists, with Soundwave often adopting a new satellite alt-mode to spy on civilizations from orbit. He played a key role in infiltrating and destabilizing societies from within, to set them up for Decepticon invasion; Often collaborating with natives and blackmailing them into service. During the period of open war that followed afterwards, Soundwave would sometimes use the recorded screams of victims as a means of psychological warfare.

         When public attention turned towards the dubious ethics of colonization (to put it lightly), Soundwave fanatically sided with Megatron, and thus supported imperialism. He fully trusted in Megatron and believed his leader could do no wrong, having seen how Megatron had brought everyone to glory and liberation under his rule. Accordingly, he dedicated himself to Megatron’s expanded ideas on Cybertronian superiority.

         Inevitably, Soundwave and his division evolved into a secret police of sorts, when Megatron expanded his power in a bid to unite Cybertron against these ‘weak-hearted dissidents’ that were showing more dedication to outsiders and enemies than their own kind. Once Soundwave and his brethren broadcasted and spread messages, now they inspected and censored them. They performed surveillance on behalf of the government, cracking down on a new generation of rebels and using their talents for suppression in ways the Functionists had failed to consider.

         If Soundwave ever stopped to consider the irony of his situation, he certainly didn’t show it, like a lot of things. Once more his talents applied, and he used his voice to commit what was basically government-backed catfishing, infiltratring forums and impersonating others to root them out. Soundwave worked closely with the Decepticon Justice Division in cracking down on dissidents, blocking their frequencies, interrogating and torturing, publicly defrauding through research and outright lies, the accumulation of blackmail, etc.

         Soundwave helped keep tabs on news stations, which put him into direct conflict with Blaster, who felt that the truth could not be suppressed, nor should reports on public opinion, questionable events, and so forth. Blaster thus became a rival and arch-nemesis for Soundwave as the Great War began, between Autobots and Decepticons; Soundwave seeing Blaster as a loud-mouthed blowhard who thrived on the attention of others but had little to say himself, and so compensated by yelling to make the silence of his head seem otherwise. Just a spout of mindless drivel, in his eyes.

         As the Great War raged, Cybertron’s Energon count drastically began to dwindle, and many casualties were suffered on both sides. Without the resources to adequately replenish such losses, many cassettes and others of Soundwave’s costly body frame were destroyed and never replaced. As a result, Soundwave and Blaster became rarities, holdovers from a previous age, as did their Cassettes. Soundwave had always been used to being lonely, but not like this, and this gradual extinction further radicalized and vindicated his support for Megatron not just by individual principle, but actual dedication to his ideals as well.

         Soundwave blindly supported Megatron in every action, keeping eyes on those within Decepticon ranks, and especially on the new and upcoming Starscream, repurposed from the body of a previous friend of Megatron’s. He acted as Megatron’s devil’s advocate and supporter in his absence, frequently butting heads with Starscream. When Megatron disappeared with the Allspark, Soundwave worked to maintain his authority even when he was gone, and guarded viciously against Starscream’s insinuations that Megatron had detrimentally doomed Cybertron with his Chimera Cube ploy.

         This truly proved Soundwave’s loyalty in the eyes of the Fallen, who was impressed by how the Decepticon fought back against Starscream’s suggestions that in his effort to save Cybertron, Megatron had merely screwed over their world and should thus be disregarded in favor of someone who not only meant what they said, but could actually carry it out (Starscream suggested such incompetence was a treachery in its own right, worth posthumously condemning). As a result, the Fallen revealed himself and his hidden mentorship to Megatron, acting on his apprentice’s behalf to maintain Decepticon leadership under the hopes he would one day return.

         Soundwave accepted Megatron’s decision to keep the Fallen secret from him without question, as in all his observations and listening, never once did he turn it to his own leader, not even out of idle curiosity or force of non-malicious habit. Through Soundwave, the Fallen kept the Decepticons from falling apart and especially from submitting to Starscream, as he searched for Megatron and the Allspark.

         Soundwave was suspicious of Starscream, but ultimately abided in letting him lead a scouting mission on a new potential colony, known as Earth by its inhabitants; Though just to be safe, he assigned his cassettes Rumble and Frenzy to keep an eye. When news of Megatron and the Allspark’s presence there was broadcast, Soundwave immediately relayed the message to Decepticons across the cosmos, trying to encrypt it from Autobot ears, as he headed straight for Earth; A new fire had been re-ignited by Megatron once more, as a day that had gone dark again, was once again lit up.

         Alas, Soundwave was nowhere close to Earth when he received an additional update; Not only were his two cassettes dead, Megatron had died by the Allspark itself, which was now lost and destroyed. Soundwave was devastated and refused to believe his leader would be so definitively taken away, after being brought back; But the Fallen’s arcane knowledge reassured him that there was a chance of resurrecting Megatron, thanks to the very means that ended his life.

         Soundwave thus worked with the Constructicons, guiding them to Earth as he collaborated with other Decepticon agents, behind Starscream’s back, to revive their fallen leader. Even as the Fallen revealed himself to Starscream and attended to the treacherous lieutenant, keeping him occupied, Soundwave’s efforts successfully retrieved a shard of the Chimera Cube, still lingering with the Allspark’s power, as well as the location of Megatron’s body.

         Megatron was revived by the Allspark, which gave back what it had taken, and Soundwave was reinvigorated once more. This time he had a proper reunion and deep thanks from Megatron, who was grateful for his lieutenant; And Soundwave merely dismissed the effort as only natural and expected. Soundwave assisted Megatron in his plot to harvest Earth’s sun, explaining everything he’d missed out on.

        After the Fallen was slain by Optimus Prime, Soundwave set to work on a new scheme, collaborating with various humans such as Dylan Gould to use the dark side of Earth’s moon to the Decepticons’ advantage. During this time, Soundwave abandoned his more modern satellite alt-mode and returned to his previous, default frame. The task of surveying Earth from orbit was symbolically assigned to Combaticon Blast Off instead, as Soundwave began to participate in groundwork once again; Something that always heralded the next, most destructive phase of Decepticon invasion… open combat itself.

[sloshed-cinema]

Heat (1995)

If Arnold Lobel’s seminal children’s series Frog and Toad is at its center a queer cottagecore exploration of masculine love, this is… the R-rated version of that. Most movies about two dudes dead set on shooting their loads into one another have a lot less plot than this and a lot more, ah, action, if of a different sort. Michael Mann’s sprawling crime epic Heat is in fact a queer film. Because fuck it, you know what, if every Patrick H Willems-ass dipshit out there on YouTube or whatever can make wild and unsubstantiated claims about a movie with dubious at best critical analysis to back it up, choo choo, motherfucker! Let’s look at our individuals, Neil McCauley and Lt Vincent Hanna. McCauley is the more stoic of the two, whereas Hanna is an old queen, constantly performative in his outrage and reading everyone for filth. He’s a messy bitch who loves drama and has no time for squares. Hanna’s beard (sorry, I mean wife) Justine knows fully well that a relationship with him is an emotional dead-end, that he would rather spend time at “work” chasing McCauley than with her. She resigns herself to a separation as he becomes increasingly frank about his proclivities. McCauley, meanwhile, finds himself a partner though he had previously resigned himself to a more solitary life due to his lifestyle. Both men know their lives aren’t a choice but rather something they both want to do and only know how to do. Given the chance, they race out into a field to enter into one final Totentanz, a breathless chase to become united at last. Hanna blasts McCauley and he dies holding his partner’s hand. There. Subversive queer masterpiece. Is this all absolute bullshit? Sure, but it was what I needed to keep myself entertained while watching this very long and very middle of the road (if quite stylish) thriller.

Time is the thing. We know that McCauley’s crew are professionals right out the gate because they time their armored vehicle heist with clockwork precision, noting police response times and accounting for it. McCauley exerts an exacting control over his operations, knowing when to commit and when to pull out of an operation. DIscord always comes from without. Waingro proves himself an agent of chaos in the opener, needlessly shooting the armored vehicle guards to complicate matters, and going on to prove himself a thorn in their side. Who would have known someone with a giant swastika tattoo on his torso would be a shithead?? Similarly, McCauley’s conflicted desire to find a new life with graphic designer Eady threatens his trajectory. When they’re making to leave it all behind, he promises her that they have all the time in the world. And yet when his need to close the book on Waingro supersedes that desire, his other rule in life takes over: never bring anything with you that you couldn’t grab in 30 seconds. This proves the case with Eady, left hanging in the hotel parking lot as McCauley vanishes into the crowd. And for what? He’s dead in a field not even 15 minutes later, greeting the eternal sleep.

THE RULES

SIP

Someone says 'fuck'.

Pacino starts chewing scenery.

A scene takes place in a diner.

Someone gets shot.

BIG DRINK

Work disrupts home life.

Someone puts on a mask.

[conceptalbummultiverse]

Character Timelines: Ziggy Stardust

Here's the second in my series of concept album character timelines. This one is going to be a little different, since Ziggy is not from Planet Earth and I'm hopeless at math, so calculating what years his planet's timeline corresponds to on Earth is too much effort for me at the moment. I'm also going to weave in some of the history of his planet and species, for a better sense of background.

In the beginning, there are the Venusians. Although the Venusians are called such by humans because when the humans meet them, they're based on what they call the planet Venus, no one actually knows what the Venusians are really called and where they actually came from. Some speculate that they've been around for longer than Earth's solar system has. The Venusians are the masters of interplanetary travel, and can even travel easily to other galaxies. They roam the outskirts of space in their magnificent crafts, which somewhat resemble human tall ships.

The Venusians don't make contact with any living beings in Earth's solar system, until they become aware of a dire situation on Mercury. The planet is becoming unsustainable for life, and its residents are suffering. The Mercurians reach out to the Venusians for help, and the Venusians agree to help them. They bring several Mercurian officials to a new planet to determine if it will sustain life, and to work out an agreement with the natives of that planet (who call themselves the People). The Mercurians reach an agreement with the People, and the Venusians therefore transport all survivors to the People's planet, where they settle in and begin to live in harmony with the People. Given that the Mercurians live underneath the surface of the planet, and the People live on it, they don't get in each other's way too much, and all works out well.

Years pass, and the story of how the Venusians rescued the Mercurians has become legend within Earth's solar system. Mainly on Mars, who are the next to make contact with the Venusians.

Ziggy Cygnet is born on Mars (or Ares, as its residents call it- I'm going to use the name Ares from here on out) to Sommie and Denyl Cygnet, two high-ranking officials within the government of his country. He's the second-youngest of four, his siblings being Dione, Pia, and Katee. Aside from a character who I'll discuss later, and calling his parents his "mother" and "father" for convenience's sake when on Earth, Ziggy doesn't assign any of these characters a gender during his time on Earth because he never talks about them, so I'm going to use the Aresian personal pronoun in Ziggy's language to refer to them all- ey/em/eir. Said language is similar to English, in the way that A Clockwork Orange's nadsat-talk is similar to Russian (which, btw, is not just a random reference, but that becomes a plot point MUCH later and won't be mentioned here), but the culture in which Ziggy is raised is VERY different from that of England. The culture of those in power, however, is unfortunately not all that different from how it's like on Earth.

Ziggy grows up in an insular environment, rarely traveling outside of his home unless he's accompanying his parents to some social function or political meeting. He honestly doesn't mind it much at first, though, since he has everything he could ever want within the walls of his home. His siblings are his closest companions, and he also gets to play/hang out with his parents' friends' offspring when they come to visit. He is educated in his home with a series of tutors.

When Ziggy is twelve years old (or the equivalent of a human twelve year old), one of his tutors begins to teach him how to play an instrument that's very similar to a guitar on Planet Earth. Ziggy takes to the instrument immediately and quickly excels at it. His parents encourage him to play to entertain their guests, and Ziggy enjoys the attention. However, he enjoys it most when he's just playing for himself, on his own time and his own terms. Music becomes his number one love in life. Other hobbies that Ziggy takes up during his teen years are gardening (or rather, admiring the plant life as he takes strolls around the grounds of his home, while a gardener does all the work) and flying several of his family's small crafts, one of which is designed to break free of the atmosphere and travel between planets in the solar system.

Sometime early in the year that Ziggy turns the human equivalent of twenty, Sommie and Denyl and several other government officials around the world discover that a catastrophe is about to befall their planet. People are running out of resources, particularly water, and the environment is turning bad. In desperation to save themselves, it's Sommie who comes up with the idea of reaching out to the Venusians (or as the Aresians call them, the Aphroditans). Since the Venusians saved the Mercurians, surely they could do the same for the Aresians. Ey appoint someone to undertake the mission of traveling to Venus and explaining the situation. Once contacted, the Venusians agree to travel to Ares to discuss arrangements. To welcome them and prove their worth as a species to the Venusians, all the countries' governments across Ares collaborate on a festival, sending all sorts of creative delegates to Ziggy's country to perform. Since their country is hosting it, Sommie and Denyl naturally set Ziggy up as the piece de resistance, the showstopper performer who headlines the festival.

Ziggy is not aware of any of the ulterior motives behind the free festival, as are very few of the people who are scheduled to perform in it. Nor is the festival marketed as "the show to save our skins"- those attending it just think that it's something flashy to welcome the first-ever visitors from another planet. They don't know why those people from another planet are visiting, but some begin to question it.

At the festival, Ziggy becomes enraptured with another performer on the bill, who plays visi-sonor (an instrument I stole from Isaac Asimov's Foundation series, although this is a much fancier and more elaborate version of what the Mule plays). After her performance, he introduces himself. The performer is named Serafina, and Ziggy is instantly smitten. Fortunately, the feeling is mutual. They spend the entire day together, talking and getting to know each other and taking in the performances, to the point where Ziggy is almost late to take the stage because he doesn't want to stop hanging out with Sera. The festival concludes with a celebration of sexuality... basically an orgy, as Aresian culture (and especially the culture of Ziggy's country) is very unrestrained on sexual matters... and afterwards, Ziggy and Serafina decide that they want to keep seeing each other.

The relationship continues without interruption for six Aresian months. As often as he can, Ziggy sneaks out to meet Serafina at her family's home. He's not sure why she can't ever come over to his, or why Serafina insists that he needs to be discreet regarding the relationship (especially when it comes to discussing the relationship with his parents), but he's happy to obey what she wants. The more frequently they see each other, the more things Ziggy observes in Sera's part of town that strike him as strange. He has everything he could ever want at his disposal back at home. Why is Serafina's family struggling so hard to get food and water, let alone other goods? Why does it seem like others in Serafina's part of town are dealing with the same problems?

Eventually, once Ziggy returns home after an outing to find that several protestors have lined up at the gates of his home, he decides to bring his questions to his parents, regardless of what Sera wants. Instead of answering his questions, Denyl and Sommie forbid him from ever seeing Serafina again, and enforce that by having a guard keep an eye on him at all times. Three months pass without Ziggy seeing Sera, which he finds intolerable.

Eventually, Ziggy wakes one night to a noise outside his window. It's Serafina, who has come to him to reveal the news that's just broken out, news which she doubts that Ziggy is privy to despite the fact that his parents surely know all about it. Ares is in a state of decline, explains Sera, and will be uninhabitable within five years. A plan has been uncovered, which reveals that when the Venusians visited for the free festival, the government officials all across Ares made a deal with them to save all of the elite, and leave the rest of the Aresians to die on their planet. It sounds ludicrous to Ziggy. How could his parents ever condemn so many people to a slow death? However, as he thinks about Sera's family and the way his parents reacted to his questions, it starts to become more plausible. He tells Serafina that he'll try to get help for her family and for all the other Aresians, but Sera is concerned that he won't be discreet enough, especially because she sees that he's still very much in love with her. So she breaks his heart by telling him that in the time they spent apart, she met someone else and moved on. It's not true, but Ziggy doesn't know that. Despite his heartbreak, he wants to do right by Serafina in whatever way he can.

The next day, Ziggy snoops around his parents' offices and finds out that everything that Serafina told him is true. Now he just has to figure out what to do. Should he try to convince his parents? Would they listen? Maybe not... but the Venusians might listen. Maybe if Ziggy can go to Venus, he can command enough authority to convince the Venusians to save the rest of the Aresians. Within a few days, he's packed up everything that he thinks he'll need on his family's spacecraft. Then he steals it, flying out in the dead of night. He programs the coordinates to Venus and seals himself in one of its life-sustaining chambers, so he can remain unconscious but basically on life support in order to not use up his limited resources during the six-month journey through outer space.

Except there's one problem. In his haste to leave, Ziggy didn't program himself to remain unconscious for six months. He programmed himself to remain unconscious for six years.

During those six years, the Venusian evacuation of Ares goes according to the original plan. They take the Aresian elite to the same planet that they took the Mercurians, as the People are agreeable to hosting another form of life on their planet, given how well they've gotten along with the Mercurians. The Aresians, however, turn out to be another situation entirely. Despite having made certain agreements with the People, they soon begin to infringe upon those agreements, expanding outward from the city that the Venusians have built for them into the territory that belongs to the People. The People fight back, and war is declared. Almost all of the Aresians end up dying in this war, including Ziggy's family (except MAYBE for one of his siblings- I'm still not sure if I want to go down this route eventually, but as I've said before, that's literally another story and I don't have to think too hard about this until I finish SF: ALS and have to get the sequel in shape to be posted).

Meanwhile, after his allotted time spent unconscious, Ziggy awakes to find that he's fallen into the Earth's orbit. He makes a crash-landing and ends up in the English countryside, surviving due to the healing agent in his blood. His spacecraft, however, is another matter- it’s damaged beyond the ability for Ziggy to use it, and he has no idea how to repair it. When Ziggy reaches civilization, he finds out that fortunately, he’s ended up in a country that speaks a language similar to his own. Unfortunately, the culture is completely different, and no one is aware that there are people living on Ares (or Mars, as they call it). The situation soon becomes clear- Ziggy realizes he has to fix his spacecraft in order to continue on to Venus, and to do that, he must raise money to either get the supplies to fix it himself, or hire someone who can fix it.

Ziggy ends up in London, looking for work, and soon discovers an ad looking for an intern in engineering. Engineering! That sounds like a trade through which Ziggy can learn how to repair his craft! However, when Ziggy shows up at the location, it turns out that the ad was looking for would-be sound engineers. As far as Ziggy's concerned, this is a blessing in disguise, as his musical know-how is sure to get him somewhere. He spends the rest of 1978 interning with Bobby Toft, who works at Abbey Road Studios, and he's so quick to pick up on it (thanks to his excellent memory, which is a trait that all Aresians possess) that Bobby allows him to work in exchange for free studio time, which Ziggy uses to record an album. Bobby also invites him to stay with him and his partner Janine at their flat indefinitely, both of them having a soft spot for Ziggy. Janine even agrees to manage Ziggy in his career. Things are maybe starting to look up?

In 1979, Ziggy releases his first album, Ziggy Stardust. He adopts the stage name because it fits with the image presented in his first single, "A Space Oddity" (named after a film that Bobby shows him, 2001: A Space Odyssey). Janine works hard flogging the single and booking spots for Ziggy to appear live and on the radio/TV, but outside of that single, the rest of the album doesn't go much of anywhere. Nonetheless, Ziggy is astonished by the money that he receives from the single's success. He begins a writing frenzy that lasts much of the rest of the year, trying to get as many people to record his songs as he can and working hard on a follow-up. The musicians who played on Ziggy's first album were all studio musicians, but some are agreeable to backing him up in a live setting, so Ziggy begins to play shows with a live band. During this year, Ziggy also explores human culture as much as he can in order to blend in, and finds it both fascinating and terrifying. After living in such a quiet place for most of his life, he can't get over the hustle and bustle of London living. He has a few fleeting love affairs that never get serious due to him not being over Serafina, and discovers that he has a charming effect on people, who are drawn to his otherworldliness. He begins to use this to his advantage.

In February 1980, Ziggy returns to Abbey Road Studios to record his new songs. During the recording session for what he hopes to be his next single, "Moonage Daydream," another musician walks in who introduces himself as Pink Floyd. And so Strange Fascination: A Love Story begins...

[shcnshi]

@infernal-ism said :

‘ my father told me once to think of them like animals. the men I kill. ’ and there is a hoarse quality to sonorous voice, as if he hasn't designed to speak in so long that the chords of his throat were out of practice in speaking like this. Stricken, is a word to call the expression that crosses his face for Yuujin had not spoken about his father in so long that — a shudder of a breath left his lips to steel himself against the irritating distressed overreaction he suffered — he had forgotten the fear speaking of the past with that man in it could cause him. Eyes the color of two violets hanging the edge of death flashed to gaze at him with question; gaze at him as if asking for absolution; gaze at him with confusion, kitten soft, before such things were closed off behind darkness and the ice cold frost it brought with it. Trauma was a pernicious thing, but the responses it brought with it were no such unpredictable thing. They came like clockwork and always, always, did it bring with it a thing but pain. Yuujin — well, but, Yuujin, he was used to such things.

distant eyes coming to focus on the other's visage as if he's been drawn back from his drifting reverie . it's not that he wasn't listening , but rather . . . the topic seemed to elicit some bitterness in his mind that he had been FORCED to entertain as the man spoke . the statement resounding like an echo that won't quiet in the emptiness of his mind . he almost laughs , but what follows is a mirthless , low and throaty chuckle that comes much akin to a breathless , resigned sigh than it does anything else . he understood that statement , much more than he wants to admit to . much more than he desires to . because THAT is exactly what he's been taught since young , it's how he managed to kill his first enemy victim . to DEHUMANIZE them just to make it easier . and when he was younger , it worked to quell the surmounting guilt in his chest each time he sank his bloodied blade into the soft flesh of these imagined animals . it helped to mute the screaming and begging ; it helped him move on . silence settles as the words hangs above the two men , an almost silent understanding overcoming them as they sank deeper into their traumatic memories , each dredging up thoughts that neither -- or maybe it was just himself -- wanted to entertain for too long . shanjie doesn't speak , a sudden fatigue overcoming him as he struggles for words . he's never been a person who's good with words , he preferred to ACT than to say . seconds pass before he breaks the vow of silence , " it was the only way , " he says , words lacking conviction , a weak protest , " the only way to keep going with the guilt , " and a wry grimace -- though much too contorted to seem as such -- settles upon pale lips . that supposed piece of ' advice ' . . . to imagine them as animals . . . shanjie knew that it wasn't MEANT to soothe the guilt that follows taking a life ; but to force their hands to act , to make the kill easier , make it more like a HUNT than it was a murder . in a way , HE UNDERSTOOD .

-> [ song of achilles ]

[autisticsupervillain]

Dark Guardian AU.

Danny Fenton walks home confidently after his first encounter with The Lunch Lady, only to find Skulktech 9.9 waiting for him when he gets home. Danny gets swatted asidd like a fly when he tries to fight them and is inches away from death when he's suddenly saved by a ghost with a billowing white cape. After brutally taking Skulktech apart, Danny's savior introduces himself as Danny's future self.

Dan explains that one of his enemies, Clockwork, has begun sending future versions of Danny's enemies into the past to eliminate him, so Dan has to protect Danny from them until he gets strong enough to face these enemies himself.

Danny is initially estatic to have a cool older self as a mentor, but that dries up quick when it becomes clear that Dan can barely keep up the pretense of not being a blood thirsty maniac and that his future self has all but entirely forgotten what it's like to be human. As such, while Dan fights of future enemies sent by Clockwork and gives Danny vague "I can't risk altering the future but..." advice, Danny works on bringing Dan back down to Earth. Mostly by dragging him to school and having him hang out with Sam and Tucker. Over time, Sam and Tucker's view Dan goes from "scary, vaguely evil future Danny" to "feral, grumpy Danny who sucks at Doomed and forgets humans need to breath".

While Dan refuses to fight Danny's past enemies for him for fear of stifling his development, he makes semi-exeption for Vlad." He won't help stop Vlad's schemes aside from vague tips, but he will fly over to Wisconsin to kick his ass when he gets bored. Vlad is very much terrified of this mysterious older Phantom who shows up at random times to beat him up, trash his house, and leave, mostly because he has no idea why he's so strong or who he could be. Vlad has resorted to asking Jack vaguely probing questions about wether he's half ghost and has a secret sadistic side. It helps that Vlad and Fright Knight actually take some minimum amount of effort for Dan to best, unlike the rest of the past rogues, who can't even hurt him. It gives Vlad hope that he could overcome this new foe and gives Dan a means of entertainment.

Initially, Amity Park views Dan as a secret transformation Phantom has for when he needs to take a fight seriously, but they later come to see him as Phantom's grumpy older brother who comes to bail out his older sibling whenever he gets in over his head. Naturally, everyone thinks he's hot and it drives Danny nuts.

And, when Danny defeats the Ghost King, Dan realizes that he's not only proud of Danny, but he's actually grown to care about him. When the CAT rolls around, Dan finds he can't stand to lose the family he's grown to care about again and he heroically saves everyone from the Nasty Burger explosion. Now only existing thanks to the Time Medallion he used to travel back in the first place, Dan is greeted by Clockwork, who congratulates him on his rehabilitation.

"This was your plan from the beginning, wasn't it?"

"I saw all the ways this could have played out, but you made your own choices. Your future was never set in stone, Daniel. I look forward to seeing where it takes you."

Cue Dan being honest to Danny, Sam, and Tucker about his past and ultimately being accepted for redeeming himself.

[wizkiddx]

hiii!!! omg please please pleasee do a part two of 3 hearts broken cus it fucking slaps miss girl

part 2 to 3 broken hearts!!! ive been so 🥺 at all the lovely comments+interest pt 1 had so thanku all !

summary: serious serious angst again will tom somehow get it back (unlike looking cos boy is a fool)

warnings: again lots of swearing (im British sorry not sorry) / wayyyy too much tea / slating Dom abit (obvs fictional but idk if I like the guy sorry his opinions are :/) / commitment issues

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

read part 1 here!!!!

That was three days ago now. Three days since you'd spoken to your boyfrien- well, Tom. It wasn't evident what the situation was.

The typical British weather brought with it the most ironic pathetic fallacy you could ever see. The clouds were dark and glooming, firing angry pellets of rain out as hard as they could. When you had pulled up on the roadside, it had just been a light drizzle but synchronised with your anxiety levels rising - so did the rain. When you finally opened up the car door, you threw your hoodie open with a sigh before running up the pathway to the front door.

It was the same burgundy red that you knew so well, but this time instead of just letting yourself in - you stood in the rain used the brass knocker thing twice. To be honest, you were hoping that no one was home - but in that house, it was pretty unlikely. After 30 seconds of getting drenched in the downpour, you were about to let yourself in with the spare key before the door swung open.

"Oh! Er Y/n?"

"Yeh um hi." You had to shout a bit over the sound of what must now be classified as a storm.

"Toms not-"

"I know. Can I come in?" As awkward and stunted as this conversation was, if you didn't get out of the rain asap you would literally end up drowned.

“Oh er yeh-yeh yeh come in.”

Harry stammered as he held the door open, gesturing for you to enter into the tiled hallway. Gratefully, you followed, throwing your sopping wet hood back down and wiping your feet on the floor.

"Sorry for just showing up, but I left some scripts here. My management are on my arse to read them and-"

"And you waited till Tom left for mum and dads?" The fluffy-haired boy has caught you red-handed; there was no defence, so you didn't even try.

Because yes, you knew on a Friday afternoon when Tom was home he would always, like clockwork, go to his parents just to kick back and watch gogglebox with both of them. It was only natural then that you chose Friday afternoon to come and pick up your stuff.

"I've been waiting in my car for half an hour till I saw him leave." Harry half laughed at that, still the two of you standing opposite each other in the hallway. "Um, do you… do you hate me Harry?"

Clearly, he hadn't quite been expecting your question going by the way his eyes almost bugged out his head.

"No, I-I, of course, I don't… look, I'm home alone so you fancy a cuppa?" Not being able to help the small chuckle, you nodded appreciatively, following Harry through the house.

"Your answer to everything is tea."

Harry had prepared the two mugs in silence as you sat at the table waiting patiently - if nervously too. You didn't miss how Harry had still used your favourite mug, having had to dig through the cupboard to find the weird square-shaped thing. Once done, he rounded the kitchen island and placed it in front of you, which you instantly cradled in two hands - for the hope of warming you up.

"You cold?" Obviously, it was pretty evident that sitting in your rain-soaked hoodie was not cosy at all. "Hang on a sec."

The boy sprung up again, returning moments later with a hoodie in hand, one he offered out to you with a little smile. The issue was that him and Tom shared clothes, so the hoodie he was kindly offering to you also had been worn by Tom before. Which made it hurt a little bit to wear. It was better than sitting soaked through though.

"How have you been then?"

"Not the best, to be honest, but uh… how about you?"

"Being with Tom while he's fighting with you? Oh, it's a barrel of laughs. You might've escaped it, but I haven't." He was trying to lighten the mood, and you appreciated it, offering him a half-smile that didn't really meet your eyes.

"Yeh sorry about that."

"Don't apologise; it doesn't sound like it's your fault Y/n."

That surprised you. Tom, especially when he was in moods like he was when you argued, wasn't one to admit when he was wrong. It was usually how the world was against him and how he was so hard done by. Accepting responsibility was something he hadn't said to you yet - but at least, small steps.

"He say that?"

"Pretty much… doesn't seem like he's angry at you, but-but he's still angry."

"At the world?" You rolled your eyes; this seemed to be the same old Tom through and through. Still immature. Still not with the right mindset.

"At himself." Harry countered, slightly entertained, when he saw the flash of surprise in your face as he sipped his drink. "And me… if I dare to so much as breathe this week."

This time you properly laughed, and Harry joined in too before the room fell back to silence - except the noise of the rain hitting the garden patio slats. You swirled the tea round in your mug, feeling the brunette's eyes on you. He'd always been your fake little brother too, since you'd met the Hollands way back 3 and a half years ago. Tom and yourself were barely adults, which meant the twins were still proper children. Harry had always been the one that understood you. Hollands, by nature, loved humans - loved to talk, to chat, to gossip. But sometimes, doing all that socialising got too much for you, as it did for Harry. He was the only one that seemed to understand social exhaustion. So when those moments had hit, you'd kept each other company in silence.

He got you, sometimes in ways your own boyfriend didn't.

"You know why he got so worked up, right?" You shook your head, looking up curiously. "Dad got under his skin on his birthday zoom thing."

Ah, now that did seem to coincide with the start of Tom's more petulant phase. To be fair, Tom had been asking to move in together for near enough a year now - but it was only in the past month it seemed to be the only thing you'd talk about and obviously only three days since the flight back. Dom's birthday barely a week ago, whilst you and Tom were both filming - except Tom had managed to get a day off where you hadn't. So you hadn't heard this conversation.

"What'd he say?"

"Was talking about how he and mum were settling down at Toms age, joked about how you rejected him, said maybe you were holding out for something better."

"Something better?" Harry sighed, leaning forward onto his elbows.

"He'd seen an article just off a trashy tabloid… it named you Hollywood's golden girl or something, said you could have the pick of any person on the planet…"

Of all the people in the world, why is Tom affected by shit journalism? He knows how much bullshit people write. He knows how it's all made up, exaggerated nonsense. And what he should know, completely and totally, is how much you love him. And if he didn't, was that your fault? Had you done something wrong, something to make him doubt you?

Harry seemed to notice the internal dialogue going on in your head, adding to the point. "It wasn't the article though, it was the fact dad said it."

Hmmm.

You and Dom got on; it wasn't like you hated the possible future father in law or whatever. Just…. you had very different outlooks. As much as Tom prided himself on how' grounded his family keeps him' -to you at least, they aren't entirely at sea level either. They'd never really had any particular struggles in life. They were the definition of middle class, and that's about it. They lived in a posh suburb of London, had all their family still around. It was the perfect family.

And whilst you were in no illusions about how privileged your life was now. It hadn't always been. You'd never had the 'nuclear' family. Instead, only your dad and a string of dodgy and fleeting stepmothers while struggling to make ends meet. So you were just always wary of Dom, of his opinions that so often his boys took for gospel. They always seemed pretty sheltered and close-minded.

And yet, Tom was a grown man.

"I get that, I just… Tom should know that we know more about our relationship than his dad. I mean,… have I done something wrong? Made him think I'm not in this for the long haul?"

"No nonono Y/n he's just… well he's an idiot, isn't he? I don't think he properly understands why you're cautious about moving and everything. He's just an idio- "

Harry was cut off for lightly insulting his brother by the sound of the front door opening, both of your heads swivelling towards the source. You then met Harry's eyes in a panic, to which he replied relatively simply.

"Just talk to each other. For my sake." You would've argued if it weren't for the fact you were so focused on Tom's shuffling around in the entrance hallway - back early from his parents.

"Baz? Where you at? I thought I saw Y/n's car and-"

"Kitchen!!!" Before Tom could say anything else, possibly landing himself in more trouble, Harry interrupted as his chair screeched while standing up. And then Tom was just there. Standing in the doorway, his arms dropping limply to his side as he noticed you. Everything about that moment seemed to freeze, when you locked eyes with him for the first time in three days. It didn't go unnoticed, the way his Adams apple bobbed, the way his eyes widen. The boy looked plain and simply terrified.

It was Harry who broke the silence, after giving you a stern look that said 'stay'. The younger Holland boy walked up to Tom and spoke.

"Try actually talking and actually listening about your problems with each other." And then he was gone, down the hallway and up the stairs.

For a few moments, Tom stayed absolutely stationary, now staring at where Harry had been when speaking to the both of you (but mainly Tom). Long enough to put your sense of unease at an all-time high, ready to make a break for it.

"If you don't want to talk, then I can leav-"

"NO!" Apparently snapping out of it, Tom exclaimed loud enough to make you flinch from your seat. "Sorry! I-I just… I wasn't expecting to… you know, to see you."

"Yeh I just uh- just came to pick up some scripts… Harry cornered me with a tea, though; otherwise, I'd be…."

"Baz thinks the whole world could be fixed with tea."

"that's what I said!" You instinctively responded, forgetting the fact you're supposed to be mad at him, and just for a second falling back into your normal flow.

Tom didn't even try to hide his grin in response, until you quickly corrected your face- then he did too. Turning around to put the kettle on for himself. Because right now, he needed to fix his whole world, and he needed all the help he could get. For a period, the only noise was the sound of the kettle boiling, then the teaspoon clinking against the mug as he stirred - until he padded over, taking the seat across from you.

"So."

"So."

"It's been a while," Tom stated the bloody obvious.

"You never called."

"Didn't think you'd want me to."

You thought that the early signs weren't all that auspicious. His ability to read a situation once again failing.

"I wanted you to say something."

"Say what?"

"What do you think Tom?" He replied to the sarcastic tone by sucking in a sharp breath, holding it for a second, before slowly exhaling. As if trying to compose himself, take time to think of a response - a mature move for him.

"Well, I think you want me to say sorry? For being so moody and not waiting for you and for upsetting those kids. And thanks too, for covering for me?"

You just hummed. Waiting for him to continue. Because yes, you did deserve all those things. But you also deserved more. An apology for, oh I don't know, saying he didn't think you loved him? It was a wait that never ended, he had nothing more to add.

"Going by your face, I take it I missed something?"

The bloody cheek of it.

"Theres nothing else? Nothing else at all? …" You gave him that chance, the opportunity but all he could respond with was a shake of his head. "You thought I was fine about you saying that I don't love you?" You hadn't intended on raising your voice, but really you hadn't realised you did till after the fact. To blinded by rage at his ignorance.

"You want to talk about this now?"

"When else Tom?" You sighed, realising he perhaps wasn't ready for this conversation. Maybe he needed more time to think things through, have sense talked into him by various wiser family members. Or maybe, he never would be. That was the worst-case scenario. But also… you're most likely prediction.

He shuffled in his seat, clearing his voice but not saying anything. Not a peep.

"I have spent three years of my life with you. I've had countless nights of too little sleep because that was the only time you could facetime. I've exposed my relationship to the world and people's opinions because you didn't want to hide. All I've done is love you. How could you even say that?" There might've been tears in your eyes, yet you were determined to keep them at bay. You needed to have this out, one way or another, to be clear and cohesive and logical. No time to cry.

"Y/n I know that, I…" He sighed, instinctively reaching for your hand, but you were quicker to pull it away. There was hurt in his eyes, but so there should be. "It just sometimes feels like that's it for you. That yeh you love me but you just want to standstill. That this is as much as it'll ever be."

Your emotions were suddenly uncontainable. Your voice croaked as you whispered, "Have I done something wrong?"

"No love, nonono if that's how you feel then that's okay. But it's something I'm not… shit this is hard." He took a pause to take a sip of his drink, your glazed eyes never leaving his. "I don't think I can stand still anymore. And yeh I was pissy and childish the other day because my dad got under my skin about the whole moving in thing… But these past few days, it just has got me thinking. Because I love you, so much."

This time when he reached out to grab your hand, you actually leaned into it yourself. Not because you were giving in, but because this hurt. This hurt so fucking much that you needed something to ground you, or else god knows. Because the way he was speaking, it sounded so finite.

"I love you too."

"I do know, which is…is why this is so hard." At the very least, Tom had conceded that.

The conversation ceased to silence yet again. The room felt so cold; even Tom/Harry's hoodie was doing nothing to keep you from the endless empty cold that seemed to be coming from within.

"When I re-registered my health card last month, and I made you my emergency contact on it. I-I made you my next of kin on everything actually. I didn't think about it twice. And-and this-"You pulled your phone out of your back pocket, immediately pulling up the app onto the open page. "This is my Pinterest board for our baby's nursery theme. I know-" You paused, to quickly wipe your cheeks clear of the tear tracks that may or may not have been there. "I know it's probably a long way away, but I just love the Scandinavian theme." You laughed at yourself, suddenly embarrassed at your blabbering and quickly pulled up a different app. "And this… this was from the other week when I was helping Y/bf/n start her vows." Hands trembling as you turned the phone around for Tom to see again. "She was finding it really tricky so she said, what would you say to Tom on your wedding, so-so I made this list." You only dared to look at him when you were sure he'd be reading through that note.

It was bizarre because he looked… well, he looked happy. Here you were feeling traumatised, showing things that you'd barely even deeped how committed they were - and he was pleased? Feeling the fire burn once again inside of your chest, you quickly swiped the phone away and back into your pocket. Only then did he look up, eyes widening - presumably at quite how psychotic you looked.

"So don't you dare say that I don't want a future with you."

You said it with such force, there was a pause. Tom letting those words sink deep into his brain. The way his expression flickered minutely gave you hope. You thought he got it. You thought he really understood now.

"But why don't you want to move in then?"

There it was again. He knew why. But he didn't get it. And, probably, he never would.

You were about to crash completely. So you ran. As fast as your legs could carry you, not even aware of your chair crashing to the floor in your wake. You ran out of that house and away from him. Away from who you had thought was the love of your life.

?give tom a final chance w one last part?

feedback is always v v appreciated <3

tom taglist : @lovehollandy12 @hollandlover19 @thefernandasantana @hunnybunimdun @hallecarey1@cedricdiggorysimpp @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @pandaxnienke @crossyourpeter @thegirlwiththeimpala @tom-softie @sunwardsss @spiitfiiires @radcloudenthusiast @ladykxxx08

people i think might be interestd in this (sorry if not just let me know and i'll remove the tag!!!): @obiwanownsmyass @wildxwidow @parkersvogue @coffeewithoutcaffeine @tomhollandlol @thefallenbibliophilequote @clumsymandu @hiraethenthusiast @mannien @abrielleholland @evermorehabit @niallberry @greatpizzascissorstaco @runawayolives @annathesillyfriend @letsgotothemoonlight @lovelybarnes

[ginnyweasleymybeloved]

willow / fred weasley

ahhhhh the first addition to this series!! really hope you guys like it! make sure to let me know what you think, asks/reblogs/comments are very appreciated <3

evermore x hp masterlist

all fics masterlist

summary: hogwarts’ most popular playboy has made it very clear that you, his best friend, were not his type, seeing as you were crushing on him hard, you decide to take matters into your own hands

word count: 2k

warnings: swearing, drinking, mentions of sex but not really, kissing, i think thats it but let me know if i missed anything <3

taglist: @padsfirewhisky

“life was a willow and it bent right to you wind

they count me out time and time again

life was a willow and it bent right to your wind

but i come back stronger than a 90s trend”

Fred Weasley had made quite the name for himself in Hogwarts as of late. You loved the boy dearly but in simple terms he’d become something of a womaniser. It was lighthearted, for the most part, girls knew what they were getting into with Fred, it was black and white and completely unsentimental. With him, a snog was just a snog and a shag was just a shag, there was no confusion over whether or not there was something more there with Fred, there wasn’t and, you supposed, as a teenage girl that there was a certain appeal to that sort of physical transaction. Even though Fred was becoming increasingly hard to catch by himself without a random girl hanging from his arm, he was very particular about who he chose to keep as company on any given night.

Unfortunately for you, it seemed that the criteria was “anyone who isn’t Y/n”. This was made clear to you during a party in the Gryffindor common room while you were hanging out with Fred, George, Lee and Angelina. The five of you were taking up one of the comfy sofas towards the back of the crowded room, a bottle of fire whiskey was being passed between you all. Angelina had her head sleepily tucked into your shoulder, ever the lightweight, as she listened to the conversation the boys were having halfheartedly. George was sat to your right while Angelina was tucked against the arm of the chair to your left, his long arm stretched to wrap around both yours and Angelina’s shoulders. Fred sat on the right arm of the sofa with Lee slouched drunkenly beside George, it was fairly late and since the party had started pretty early after the day’s quidditch win, you were all fairly intoxicated when the dreaded topic of Fred’s gallivanting came about.

“Right, question for Fred,” Lee started, his words slightly slurred as he passed the bottle of fire whiskey to George, who took a long swig before handing the bottle to you and resting his cheek against the top of your head. You let out a small laugh, with Angelina resting on your shoulder and George close to sleep on your head you felt like the comfiest spot in the entire common room.

“Go for it, Jordan,” Fred said airily, his brown eyes glazed over as his stared at your form enveloped between George and Angelina, catching his gaze you outstretched your arm, offering him the alcohol only for him to shake his head and greet you with a soft smile, shifting his eyes back to Lee.

Lee, who always had a tendency to talk with his hands, waved his arms around nonsensically as he posed the question, “If you had to spend the rest of your life with one girl in our year who would it be? Excluding Y/n obviously.”

You sprung to life at that, disturbing Angie and George when you lurched forward to face Lee with a confused expression, “What? What do you mean excluding Y/n?”

Fred chuckled at your affronted expression and shook his head softly, “Don’t look so offended, love. He just means that you’re not really my type.”

You let out a scoff as Angie whined, sitting up with you only to wrap her arms around your middle and plop her head back down on your shoulder, muttering a druken, “Piss off, Freddie. You couldn’t get her anyway,” George snorted, obviously entertained by the whole thing while Lee looked like a child who just got caught staying up past bedtime.

“Ignoring the fact that I’m obviously way out of your league,” you started, glaring at Fred teasingly, “If I’m not your type then how come last night’s girl looked exactly like me?” You challenged raising an eyebrow. George let out a low whistle and Fred choked on air.

“She didn’t- she wasn’t-“ Fred stuttered and Angie groaned against your neck.

“Yea she did, Fredrick. She wasn’t even as gorgeous as our Y/n stop acting like a prat you’d be lucky to spend your life with her!” She ranted, glaring at him as best she could through her droopy eyelids.

“I agree with Angie, Y/n is obviously an exception because she’s simply too good for our resident fuckboy,” George added as you and Fred entered into some kind of staring contest.

Lee snatched the fire whiskey from your hand and took a quick shot, “Alright, alright calm down! Here is my professional commentary; Y/n is not included because Freddie dearest doesn’t know how to deal with feelings and, as we all know, Y/n is a whirlwind- in a good way of course- however Freddie can only think with his dick so he would only get lost in her current.”

“Oi!” Fred shouted indignantly, pouting childishly before hopping off his seat and shoved his twin away from you, he squeezed himself into the space beside you and looked at you seriously, his cheeks flushed due to, what you thought was, his intoxicated state, “You’re not included because you’re my best mate and I’ll spend the rest of my life with you anyway I just think, you know, romantically you're not my type...” That stung. The alcohol in your system wasn’t working nearly as hard as Angie’s as she was reaching across your body and smacking Fred across the chest clumsily before you could even fully digest his words.

“Fred-“ smack, “Weasley-“ smack, “You-“ smack, “Are-“ smack, “such a-“ smack, “Twat!” The slaps she delivered were weak and didn’t do much besides cause Fred to fall into a state of utter confusion, “Romantically you’re not my type,” you, George and Lee snickered at Angie’s imitation of Fred’s voice, while Fred continued to stare at Angelina with a lost expression as she went on, “So a loyal, trustworthy, considerate, girlfriend isn’t your type? Hm? Well good because just because you said that you can never ever have her because she’s mine!”

“Alright, Angie. I think it’s time for bed,” you mumbled through a laugh, she was always a combative drunk and you usually found it quite funny but you didn’t need anymore reminding that your hopeless crush really was hopeless. When you stood up you howled out a laugh when Angie hopped up behind you, still glaring at Fred she smacked your ass, slung her arm around your shoulder and slurred, “Yeah. Let’s go, sexy,” George and Lee fell into a fit of laughter as you led Angie towards the stairs.

“I love you girls!” George called through his laughter, Lee hummed in agreement.

“Love you, Georgie. Love you, Lee!” You replied.

“I love you too!” Angie shouted over you.

Fred was still lost when you disappeared up the stairs with his, very drunk, teammate, “What the fuck just happened?”

“Your stupid ’Y/n is off limits’ rule has finally caught up to you. You’ve lost her to Angie.” George chuckled and Fred shoved him halfheartedly.

“Shut up. All that this proves is that I’m no good for her.” He said, bitterly taking a swig from the bottle in his hands. It was no secret to either of the boys that Fred was head over heels for you. He would’ve followed you anywhere, however, it seemed as though every time he spoke to you the less he even knew what he was trying to say; take that night as an example. You were exactly his type. In every way. But Lee was right when he said Fred wasn’t good at dealing with his emotions, whereas you seemed to hold an ocean of feelings and insights to life that Fred would actively drown in if he could.

“She likes you Fred, you know how she is when she wants something. Tell her no, she’ll only come back stronger. She’ll crack you eventually, ‘specially with Angie in her corner,” George informed his brother, reminding him of your unmatched determination.

True enough, you had always played to win and often did everything in your power to complete a challenge and come out on top. Fred wasn’t an idiot, he knew you fancied him, he fancied you too, who wouldn’t? But there were times that he’d be with you and this feeling of home would wash over him- he couldn’t risk losing you or that feeling you brought about, he’d be completely hollow. Besides, chasing girls who reminded him of you would keep him satisfied for the time being, surely. Surely not apparently.

George was right when he said you wouldn’t give up, in the last few days Fred found himself wishing you were his and he just knew you were doing things to make him crazy on purpose. You were, of course. He couldn’t deny that you were a force of nature all on your own, but wow, you were indeed a whirlwind when you acted with intention.

It had started with fleeting touches whenever you were close enough to achieve it. Gentle brushes of your fingertips against his while you walked alongside each other in the halls, quickly progressed into your hand gripping his bicep every time you spoke to him, then onto biting your lip whenever you were aware of his gaze. Ignoring the growing frustration within him only grew harder when you’d approach him, like clockwork, each night before he’d get busy with whoever it happened to be that night. You’d casually brush your hand down his arm, pull your lip between your teeth, wink and tell him to, “have fun”, and he would, purely because he’d have that image of you seared into his head the entire time.

Playing dirty was never something Fred would normally get on board with, however, the second he noticed you lapping up the attention you were receiving from one of the, admittedly handsome, Ravenclaw boys; Fred decided that you were in fact the one prize he’d cheat to win.

“Fuck this,” he’d muttered, causing his twin to raise an eyebrow at him. They’d only just sat down for breakfast yet Fred was already cursing out the day.

Ginny had heard him too, the youngest Weasley gave Fred a bored look, “What’s wrong with you?”

Fred let out an agitated huff through his nose, glaring menacingly at the tall brunette boy, who was sitting far too close to you for Fred’s liking. George’s laugh broke him out of his trance and he heard his brother snicker out a sarcastic, “So the penny’s finally dropped, has it?”

“Piss off, George,” Fred grumbled, his lips forming a scowly as the boy placed his hand on your knee under the table.

“For Merlin’s sake, Fred. Would you just ask her out already? I’m sick of you,” Ginny complained, Fred was her brother and she loved him but this? This was ridiculous.

“Rude, Gins. You better watch it or I’ll tell mum you’re misbehaving,” Fred joked, halfheartedly while Ginny raised a challenging eyebrow.

“Try it, Fred. I’ll tell her that you’re being a git and ruining her chances of having Y/n as a daughter-in-law.” Ginny threatened. Fred shook his head, determination flooding his body.

He stood from his spot hastily, and all but marched up to you and the boy who currently occupied your attention, “Oi, can I steal you for a minute, love?” Before you could even answer, you were being pulled from your seat by Fred’s strong grip on your hand.

The boy pulled you along until you were out of earshot of the Great Hall and away from the prying eyes of the nosy student body.

“Can I help you, Freddie?” You asked sweetly, too sweetly.

Fred’s hands slid against your sides before settling contently on your waist, he shook his head in disbelief as he spoke, “You’re something else, do you know that?”

Butterflies rumbled in your stomach in response to his newfound proximity and burning gaze. It took everything in you to bite back a triumphant yell as you managed a wicked grin. “What I am is exactly your type, Fred Weasley.”

“You’re bloody right you are,” he muttered, impatient desire fuelling him as he brought his lips to yours, tugging you closer by the waist and kissing you with so much desperation that you were starting to think snogging Fred Weasley wasn’t as open and shut as you’d previously thought.

[troublesometrollhunters]

Hello, sorry I’ve never done this before but could you do Gunmar or Bular attempting to court a human the gumm-gumm way, or more trollish way. Maybe even add a bit of a Valentine flair sense I don’t know how to do this...

X"3

Gunmar had admired you for some time. Something about your warrior spirit or your strong soul, he's not sure what drew him to you but now he's obsessed. Your stories of travel, your eyes that hold knowledge he wishes he could comprehend. The way you hold yourself while surrounded by monsters and creatures that could kill you in a second. He wants you, no needs you. He has to have you and he's willing to give you anything.

Now humans and trolls court differently, he knows this. But the warlord isn't sure how to court your way nor does he want to learn. If you are to be his mate he will do this the troll way as your an honorary troll in his eyes. He could fall for no less than himself so he refuses to awknowldge your more fleshy attributes. To him you are a being of magic and power not some fleshbag being held by the Order.

If you were to be his mate you had to be more than what you are now and he believed he could make that happen.

~~~

Trying to work you groan staring at the papers in front of you wondering how you got into this mess.

You'd accidentally discovered changelings when you met up with a distant cousin who'd contacted you. The Order needed new recruits and your cousin assumed you were a changeling in hiding. It turns out changeling blood ran in your family but you were never born with the changeling genes and there had been an assumption that lead to a big mistake.

Shuffling papers you sign not understanding how fate put you into this position but knowing you couldn't fight it. You were too valuable to kill with your skill sets and connections. Too hard to replace they whispered when they thought you couldn't hear.

As a reporter and a journalist you'd seen and heard some incredible things but you would've never guessed the rumors about Arcadia Oaks, California were correct. Rock creatures, shapeshifters, and magic beings did in fact exist and you somehow got caught in the middle of their world.

Relocated to this retched office where you could be watched but still work you hum trying to think of a cover story for some changelings mistake. Going from being a jounralist who exposed evil and traveled to find the truth too whatever illegal stuff you were doing now was ironic and absolutely cruel. Handling changeling affairs and cover stories when you should be exposing them. God had a sick sense of humor.

Bored as you read about a damn incident in Mexico sitting at your desk you blink unamused as a giant sword is dropped onto it. Not looking up you hear a loud grunt as a hot puff of air hits your face.

Oh it's him.

"Lord Gunmar." You should be surprised but he'd done this many times this month and at this point it was almost clockwork. The first time you jumped and been scared. Now you just waited for him to come than take his leave.

He growls when you don't pay attention. Signing you put your work down looking at the troll. He really should scare you but at this point you were so done with the world nothing phased you. Maybe you were still in shock.

Observing Gunmar he says nothing as his own eye peers at you. He towers over your form but you don't let that bother you. Your almost positive he had a soft spot for you. The reporter in you was still very active and often when you walked through the halls you heard changelings commenting on the way you treated Lord Gunmar. How you should be dead. But you weren't. A weakness they called you but you happened to think you could be a strength.

Honestly your entire life had been turned upside down and the world was a lie so a big growly troll that seemed to take an interest in you was the least of your problems as you planned an escape.

"A weapon." He states pushing it closer to you. Paper is scattered and a cup full of pens tips making them roll off your desk. Unphased and slightly amused at the mess you ignore it and observe the sword instead. It was a blade similar to the Decimar one he carried on his back, and yet you noticed it had some of Gunmars chest carvings on the hilt along with troll text. A language you'd barely learned to read in your captivity.

Picking the heavy sword up you wonder where to hang it. Just this week the warlord had brought you a pearl spear, an emerald longbow, a collection of ruby daggers, a golden sword, and an assortment of other weapons and treasures. Your office was almost overflowing with all the things he brought.

He was constantly saying how you couldn't protect yourself and needed watching. He'd follow after you when no one else was available, so you assumed these weapons were his way of giving you a defense or perhaps he was bored and liked to try and torment you. He didn't scare you thought so you doubted that was likely.

"It's beautiful Gunmar though I'm running out of space." You hum unsure of where to put this one. He huffs seeming to want more but you only give him an icy stare. He looks away chuffing and you smile mischeviously. Perhaps poking the bull wasn't the wisest decision but you had nothing to lose and it was entertaining.

"Do you like it?" He demands and you hum feeling the sharpness of the blade. You'd done an article about historic weapons and their meaning. A lot of weapons were actually given to men and woman as signs of courtship or respect. But Gunmar was a notorious human hater. He couldn't respect you and courting you seemed out of question.

"It's beautiful." You repeat. He snorts stomping his foot and you look at the warlord curious. He seems to wait wanting more. "... Is there something else you need Gunmar?" You question leaning the sword against your desk. He huffs glaring at you.

"You." He responds. Confused you stare up at him not expecting that answer. Had he said what you heard?

"Excuse me?" You question softly.

"You." He responds again and your left in shock. You? So he did like you? Smirking the warlord leans in close his one eye staring into yours. Huffing hot air in your face, you begin getting red.

He wanted you.

[officerjennie]

Hello, for the lingerie prompts could I suggest #10 for Geraskier? (J in the linergie prefferably) thank you :)

Prompt: Flashing your lingerie at a partner while out in public to tease them.

This is more horny than smutty.

CW: None? Geraskier. Geralt gets a peak at the lingerie at an outdoor concert. Horny more in spirit than anything else. WC 1.3k+

---

Jaskier had a bit of a weakness.

He sipped his strawberry milkshake, beating off the sun the best he could with a floppy hat and his hand over his eyes. For once it hadn’t been his idea to go out today but he was most certainly making the best of it, with his cute shorts and loose tank top complete with one of his many colorful cardigans. He was making the most of it even though it had not been what he’d been meticulously planning for the day, having stayed up late that night giddy over his flawless plan to drive his boyfriend wild for once.

Meticulous plans tossed straight out the window by his gorgeous, thick-headed, idiot boyfriend. Said boyfriend was wearing so much black he was radiating heat off of him but somehow wasn’t dying, his long, beautiful hair pulled back into a man bun that Jaskier really wanted his fingers in - to muss it up, to tug it loose, to hold it and jerk and hang onto-

“The bands should start playing soon.”

Geralt had hardly looked up from the pamphlet some rather lovely smelling hippie had given them when they’d entered the fair grounds. There hadn’t been that many people there, given it was day one of the entertainment, which was no doubt why Geralt had dragged him here today instead of any of the other days. Crowds weren’t his thing despite Jaskier on most days thriving in them, loving the limelight and the sounds of people moving and existing around him, the smells of food and the sounds of music and games and dancing.

Most days. Today was not one of them.

“Let’s find a spot.” Geralt readjusted the blanket he had tucked into the crook of his arm, setting off to find a decent spot to place it on the ground, and Jaskier managed to follow after him.

It wouldn’t be the worst day ever, he knew that. As they walked past a trash can he quickly polished off his milkshake, tossing the cup into the trash and jogging a few steps to catch up, trying to shove his frustration off to the side as he sent a brilliant smile towards his beloved. Brilliant if a bit...more forced than usual.

Not that he didn’t love and adore his dearest, most precious person, the light of his life, his muse, who he could stare at for hours and hours and still find more poetry within his soul for. Jaskier loved him above any other and could spend every waking moment in his company and never tire or bore of him. It was just that, well...

The lingerie he’d slipped on this morning felt tight as he heaved a sigh, Geralt having finally found a suitable place for them to settle down and watch as the first band tuned their instruments before their performance. He had just planned for today’s waking moments to be a bit different than how they’d turned out, is all. The package had finally arrived the night before and he’d practically squealed in delight to find the black straps and floral decorative crossings to fit perfectly on him, and had really wanted to spend the day in making use of his sexy new getup. 

It wasn’t really Geralt’s fault, either. Geralt straightened out the old crochet blanket, finally plopping himself down and making enough room for Jaskier at his side. Looking up at Jaskier, he patted the spot right next to him, opening his arm up for Jaskier to scoot up close and snuggle into him while they waited for the music.

Geralt hadn’t been let in on the plans, given they’d been made entirely within Jaskier’s daydreaming throughout the night - and apparently this outing had been a surprise meant for Jaskier to begin with. The music would, supposedly, be to his liking, and the lesser crowds would mean that Geralt would be able to stay the whole time instead of having to wander off halfway through for some quiet time.

It was sweet, it really was. That his beloved thought of him like this and did his best to plan a surprise. It made Jaskier feel a twinge of guilt in his chest for feeling so frustrated over things not going his own way. Geralt was so bad at surprises, wasn’t that good at secrets or planning things on his own. Actually wasn’t that good at gifts just because he didn’t ever know what to buy people, better at making his love known through his own actions instead. So for him to plan this, make sure they had a blanket and enough time to get settled in, to look up events and music and the like, buy tickets ahead of time...

Jaskier cozied up closer to him, turning to nuzzle his cheek with his nose as the band started to sing warmup vocals, still testing the sound equipment. As he did he heard Geralt’s typical content hum and he closed his eyes, reminding himself that there was so much to enjoy in this moment, even if it wasn’t the moment he’d thought he’d be having.

The hand now in his own was so warm it was a bit sweaty but he found he didn’t care, the other resting on his hip rubbing gentle and soothing patterns there. Jaskier hummed himself, kissing the light stubble on Geralt’s cheek and practically melting into him.

“Thank you.” He pressed the words into his cheek between soft kisses, feeling Geralt lean into him as well and squeezing his hand warmly. “This was all so sweet, love. How did you even hear about this? I don’t think anyone has mentioned it to me, and I usually hear about these sorts of things, you know.”

“Triss.” Geralt turned his head to bump their noses together, his long white lashes gracing the top of his cheekbones. “She made sure no one told you.”

“Really?” He somehow didn’t doubt it but he’d had no idea that she knew all of his band groupie friends, who would have normally been spewing about any sort of indie music coming to their little town. That just made him feel even squishier - his friends were far, far too good to him, most of all his precious Geralt. “I’m blown away love, you’ve done so much for me! Spoil me rotten, never leave me wanting, you know my heart so well.”

“Haven’t even heard the music left.” He was arguing, but his eyes had cracked open and there was humor lighting them up. 

“If you think I’ll like it,” Jaskier said, brushing their noses together softly, “then I know I’ll love it. And I promise to treat you right back, dearheart, you’ve earned it.”

“Oh?”

Jaskier bit his lower lip, knowing full well it would catch his love’s attention - and like clockwork those gorgeous golden eyes flicked down to watch the movement, to watch his tongue flick out after and wet his lips.

“I’ve got a surprise for you too, love,” he purred, letting his free hand rest on Geralt’s thigh, a little lower than should technically be publically appropriate. But the crowd was tuned into the stage, the band finally starting with their introductions, drawing all eyes far away from them. Giving him time to give an appreciative squeeze to the thick muscle that was softened by healthy weight, feeling heat between them that had nothing to do with the unbearable summer heat.

“Lift up my shirt some, love.”

Geralt cocked his head in that way that was unfairly cute, but did as he asked, and Jaskier got to see his pupils blow wide up close at what he saw. His shirt got tucked down quickly as Geralt closed his eyes and swallowed, leaning their foreheads together while Jaskier grinned in mischievous delight.

“Yours is better,” Geralt managed, his fingers now tighter on his hip than they’d been before. And though Geralt had done his best and had been so very very sweet, and maybe it was just his dick talking (and maybe it was a little rude to not argue) Jaskier couldn’t help but agree.

[shesawriter39049]

|FEVER| M|

Pairing: Namjoon X Reader

About- Namjoon just has a kink for letting you do whatever the hell you want with him...Whether that be putting him in a hot pink suit shirtless! Or, telling him he’s a good boy as he fucks you into oblivion!

OR- Namjoon and yourself hooked up 5 months ago when the boys were in London on Tour, and you were the creative director for there British GQ & Harper’s Bazzar Cover! Now, months later he’s prepping to release his second mixtape “RM vs Rap Monster”. Opting to go a complete 360 from his first release Mono in all realms. So, with that being said BigHit thinks he needs someone with a little more... “umph” Take a wild guess as to who they call...

WC:1.2k (Sneak peek)

WARNINGS: Switch OC (Top & Bottom...but there's no real dom/sub tones here) Service top/power bottom Namjoon, praise kink, Fingering, Unprotected sex(Back shot), come play, dirty talk, light choking, light overstimulation, (This is lowkey a little softer than it sounds) The OC kinda leads this, but Joon isin’t the cliché “sub” he just likes letting her take control.

NOTE- Just my take on the OG cliché Artist X Stylist AU (Though she’s more of a full package, Art Director/Stylist/Photographer ETC) I have tried to add some minor elements to make it a little more realistic. I will say I typically stray from “Idol-verse” just because if we’re being real, the cultural difference alone sometimes stunts my creativity...BUT I just had a little fun with this one...so I hope you all enjoy it. Also, I don’t go into much physical details but in my mind regardless of race, aesthetic wise the OC is a huge contrast to what he’s use to which is part of her appeal. I picture a tatted Barbie of some sorts...

SIDE NOTE: No shade, but shade, I was lowkey inspired to write this bc I have very strong opinions about the creative team at BH....

*** Let me know if you guys want the full thing or not...I kidna flaked on posting because it is such a cliché lol

SONG- FEVER DUA LIPA  FT ANGELE

~~~~~~~

“Well, it’s a yes for me” Eyeing him in this Hot pink-fitted Burliti suit, which you paired with a very sheer black Arnar Mar turtle neck. The minute you saw the piece on the runway you’d been dying to get it on someone with melanated skin, and it just so happens, the boys are fresh off the US leg of their stadium tour! So, lucky for you, baby boy’s been in the sun a lot, and Namjoon’s currently a sinful shade of brown and you're totally here for it…

Then to top it off, the mesh material of the turtle neck creates the perfect silhouette around his offensively toned chest, outlining the muscles sinfully. Eternally snorting at the way the fans are gonna thank and curse you out all at the same damn time once they see the looks you’ve pulled for this man!

And yes, you had your crew bring extended shades of foundation and concealer, because his face and neck will match if your name is going to be attached to these damn photos! 

Head tilted to the side as you silently observe the way he rakes over his reflection in the mirror, it’s a sixth sense you’ve acquired as a stylist at this point. Half of your job is essentially being a hype man/self love coach, real shit, a lot of these artist aren't always as...confident as one may think!

And just like clockwork Namjoon runs his palm down his thighs, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles on his pants for the umpteenth time in the span of oh I don’t know 30 seconds? Which in turn prompts you to say….

“You look good Joonie...” Musing over your second glass of Don, the compliment was genuine, tone warm, soothing even, not a hint flirtation insight because that wasn’t your motive. You weren’t trying to get him flustered you’re just trying to gas him up a little, you wanted to see Namjoon get alittle cocky and feel himself!

Ears perking up like an overgrown puppy, head whipping in your direction “Yeah?” The way this man’s eyes just lit up like the soul skyline. I just-goddamn, an almost bashful smile toys on those plush lips of his, and you can’t help the way your chest flutters with nothing but fondness.

“So fuckin cute” Flutters off your lips, as you hide a smile of your own behind a half empty whine glass. The delivery was so faint it almost go lost in the background music floating through the air. However the slight flush hitting his cheeks let you know Namjoon heard you whether he wanted to admit it or not!

”Mmmhmm, the color looks fuckin insane against your skin, not to mention, the way everything's going to pop once we tone your hair a little! “ Eyes drinking him in from head to toe, though there was nothing suggestive playing within your iris. Very much aware of time and place and right now your genuinely looking respectfully! Seeing if any alterations are needed, making sure you like where everything sits along his frame. Making notes in your phone of places you want to pin and adjust later...snapping a couple shots here and there. 

Licking his lips anxiously as he plays with the lapels on the blazer “But like-I mean-I- dont’-It doesn’t look like I’m... trying too hard or anything?” Brows furrowed in the center of his face, jaw tight, wincing slightly at his own words, almost as if he was afraid of your response. The vulnerability within his delivery was more than evident, and no matter how common this is with artist, it’s still just as devastating! Regardless of how much he tried to play it off as if he was just making casual conversation, you can see how blatantly uncomfortable he is . Gazing back at you wide eyed, and uncannily exposed, pointing at the outfit in question. Licking his lips anxiously as he plays with the the blazer, switching posses subtlety trying to get a better feel for the suit.  

You stayed silent for a minute, taking the time to actually process before speaking which is rare, not gonna lie. Gaze piercing as you hop off the bed, wine, and accessories in hand, swaying closer. “It’s fashion”. The baited pause almost implied that’s all you had to say, as if one-word was self-sufficient, and in your mind it was...but you knew better than to just leave it at that.

“Art at its finest Mr. Kim” You smile something a little devious, and he flushes even deeper as you slowly start to invade his space eyes locked with him meaningfully. You can physically see the shift, the closer you get, Namjoon starts fidgeting slightly under your gaze but he doesn't back down.

“It gives you room to play, create...it’s something that let’s us connect to people without saying a damn thing.” Suddenly the hand that wasn’t holding your alcohol has become a prop, flailing around haphazardly as you spoke, pointing at the various pieces hanging on clothes racks in your suite! The penthouse has essentially been transformed into your own personal walk in closet for the next 5 or so days! “It’s a statement. A opportunity to tap into a side of yourself that maybe you can’t always verbally articulate to the world around you! More importantly, it’s supposed to be fun, it’s literally something that can be removed within seconds! I mean we all have to wear clothes so why not just enjoy it?”  Head cocked to the side as you appraise him, brow quirked, eyes warm, yet there's a clear challenge playing within your gaze.

Namjoon’s watching you intently, almost as if he’s taking mental notes as you speak...the heaviness within those dangerously honed eyes of his could almost be unsettling to some, but you quite like it. Made you feel as though he actually gives a flying fuck about what you’re saying.

“In my opinion the only time it looks like someone’s “Trying too hard” Making little air bunnies with your spare hand “Is if they look uncomfortable in what they’re wearing, confidence is key, and I know you know that better than anyone RM!” You muse batting your lashes in Namjoon’s direction, and he dimples back at you, eyes sinking into tiny crescents, face rivaling the color of his suit, trying to hide said smile behind his own glass of champagne.  

“I could put you in a damn clown suit...” Words trailing off your tongue lackadaisically as you grow distracted searching the bar for a specific chain from John Hardy. “Which” Focus snapping back in his direction making the later splutter a little “Would be fire as fuck if I did by the way, but-”  Namjoon ended up cackling midsentence, almost choking on his drink in the process, fist pounding against his sternum.

Yeah..killing the leader of Bangtan wasn’t really high on your list tonight....

“Ayee, none of that shit...” Smacking him in the back a little more so just to be an ass because he wasn’t even choking anymore “Don’t die on me until we at least get this damn photoshoot done, I had to cancel my trip to Jamaica for this shit!”

Now he’s damn near choking and his laugh was contagious, it’s just.. loud, carefree so yes, your cackling, and there's nothing cute about it. But you honestly don’t care, you let yourself get lost in it! Finally able to feel the atmosphere in the room start to shift to something a little less scripted and a little more organic...

Throwing his hands in the air as If he’s waving a nonexistent white flag “I’m sorry, noona” There’s a pout playing in his lips, not exactly aegyo per say, but it’s fuckin adorable “Blame PD-nim, it’s his fault we had to do this so last minute” Wheezes from his throat, in the form of a slight whine, almost rivaling Jimin if I’m honest.

You already know he was laughing more so due to your delivery, specifically, your casual use of profanity over anything else. This is actually something you use to be self-conscious about, especially at your first shoot with the boys, at the shoot for GQ . Well aware it wasn’t as common in Asia for people especially women to use “fuck” like a comma. So you were hoping they wouldn’t be offended, or uncomfortable by your dialect, and, thankfully they didn’t seem to mind. Much like Joonie over here, they found it entertaining over anything.

“Yeah, a huh, sureee...” Eyes rolling to the back of your head playfully as you start lightly altering the suit in question with clips and pens. “Stay still babe” The pet name slipped off your tongue effortlessly, honestly, that's what you call most people in your life. However you were far too focused to notice how wide eyed and flustered the man before you became upon hearing it directed at him so casually.

A faint little “Sorry” muses off his lips as he gnaws on his inner cheek, trying to stay still as you ghetto-rig hems into place until you can get this under your sewing needle.

“ No, but real shit…” You sigh, taking on a slightly more serious tone “If you step in front of that camera like you own the bitch, regardless of what your wearing..., then they can’t tell you shit! If your comfortable there’s no such thing as trying too hard” You shrug nonchalantly like that was the simplest concept known to man, downing the rest of your drink “Alright, that’s all, thanks for coming to my Ted talk” Waving him off as if you’re about to leave the room and he pouted playfully, jokingly begging you not to leave him yet...it felt good to be able to banter like this. The shift continuous shift within the atmosphere was more than welcomed…

Hesitantly you watch his eyes find their way back to the full length mirror, which promptly smacks you back to reality!

Unfortunately you didn't fly all the way to Seoul just to drink,  and shoot shit with Namjoon for hours on end,  your actually here to work…

Sooo...

“Alright” Placing your arms on his shoulders, giving him a reassuring squeeze as you peer over his shoulder. Meeting his gaze through the glass, chin resting gently against the blade. “Back to the reason you came Mr. “I’m sooo anxiously” Shooting him a teasing little smirk in the process “The suit, yay or nay”

So, here’s the thing technically the official fitting is tomorrow, and as far as his team knows he’s in the studio with Yoongi and Hoseok finishing up a song!

Which of course raises the question as to why he’s here..alone..mind you..no staff or security in site.

Just Kim Namjoon and yourself.....

~~~~

Heyyyy, Lemme know if you guys want this or not, it will leave kinda open ended because it was supposed to kinda be a 3 part mini series initially. Part 1 ends the morning of the shoot, the full thing is set to be around 6/7k! Spoiler, the company is going to want to keep her around for more than just Namjoon’s solo project....

Also, YES...I did see that they actually put Tae in that Burliti suit (I wrote this long before that shoot was released)...I actually hated the way it was styled it though...I never thought I’d say this but MGK’s team did a better job than BH....

[some-kindofgnome]

Kinktober #21: Absence: Bucky Barnes

In which you call Bucky while away on a solo mission. 

Characters: Bucky Barnes / f!Reader

Warnings: Phone sex, masturbation, shitty motel rooms, mentions of oral sex (f-receiving) 

Notes: Not much to say about this one. Today’s prompt was “Phone Sex,” and, well, phone sex is phone sex is phone sex. 

Except when it’s with Bucky. 

Kinktober Masterlist

You push open the bathroom door and a cloud of shower steam rolls out with you. The exhaust fan’s gone to shit in that shoebox of a bathroom. You should’ve guessed, based on how badly the paint is peeling in there.

The room is about as shitty as they come. But you’re so goddamned tired, you could sleep in a gutter.

This is far better than a gutter.

The springs creak beneath your weight as you flop onto the turned-down bed, hauling your phone above your face. Bucky’s been texting you. You haven’t seen a thing- haven’t even looked at your phone in the last twenty-four hours.

This mission is running you ragged.

It’s your first solo gig, and as thrilled as you are to take on this responsibility, you’re not thrilled to be holing up in some double-digit motel in a drive-through town in the middle of nowhere. Especially since the last few days haven’t come close to bringing you any real action.

There are a couple messages on your phone, but most of them are at least a few hours old. You scroll idly through and reply to a few of them, making a mental note to get back to the others.

But you’re thinking about something else.

It feels like you’re settling in for the first time since you arrived. You have a few open hours ahead of you before you know you need to get to bed. You consider flipping on the T.V. but surfing whatever local channels this place’s shitty cable service will have doesn’t exactly appeal.

Not when you’ve got something far more exciting lined up at your fingertips.

You think about texting him first, but it’s the same time there as it is here and if you know him like you think you do, Bucky’s sprawled out in bed with his own T.V. on and wishing he had something better to do.

The perfect moment for a spontaneous call.

You scroll indulgently to his contact and press the ‘call’ button, lifting the phone to your ear. It rings a few times before he answers.

“Hey.”

His voice is gruff, and you can hear the way he shifts a little as he inevitably props himself on one elbow.

“Hey, hot stuff,” you croon into the phone, adopting your favourite playful-sexy voice. “What’re you wearing right now?”

He chuckles. God, you miss that chuckle. You miss laying on his chest and making him laugh, just to feel the vibration of it beneath you.

“Let’s see,” he rumbles in your ear. “Short skirt, thigh-high socks, and those lacy panties you love so-“

“Very funny,” you quip, smirking to yourself. You roll onto your side, curling up to the sound of his voice. Hearing him when you can’t be there only makes you miss him more.

“I take it things aren’t happening very fast over there.”

“They’re not happening at all,” you reply. “I spent all day squatting in the trees. Nothing. Not a peep.”

“Damn,” he sighs. “It does turn out that way sometimes. I sure hope Steve didn’t send you on a dead trail for your first solo gig.”

“When I left, I honestly hoped it would turn out that way. But now I’m so bored I could die.”

“Anything I can do to entertain you?”

You grin indulgently.

“You could tell me what you’re actually wearing.”

He laughs again. You want to curl your body around the phone and hug it tightly to your chest when he does that. Like you can pretend that some vestige of him will feel how tightly you wish you could be holding him.

“I miss you, baby,” he grunts. “It’s jus’ not the same, goin’ to bed without you.”

“I know,” you croon back.

“What would you do,” you ask before the implication catches up with you, “if I was still there?”

You can hear him hesitate. He trips quietly over his voice, stammering for a moment.

“Well-I…I’m not sure,” he mumbles thoughtfully. “Kiss you, I guess.”

“Where?” Your heart flutters. You’re not ready to admit it, but you’re desperate. This sort of thing’s never really been on the menu before. Sometimes his texts get a little flirty, but… never over the phone.

“Your lips,” he drawls, and you wonder if he’s clued in yet. “Your cheeks. I’d kiss your neck a little, if you’re not too sleepy already.”

“I’m not,” you press. “Not too sleepy. What’s next?”

You roll onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. You’re grinning like an asshole, but this is the most fun you’ve had in a long time.

“Baby, what-“

“Just keep talking,” you breeze, letting your eyes fall shut. He misses you, so he plays along.

“You know how it goes,” he continues. “Kiss on your neck a little. Maybe stop at your collarbone. Pull down your shirt a little, so I can touch your pretty…”

He trails off. Your cheeks are warm. You can’t imagine how red he must be right now. Scratch that. You can. He’s maroon. You adore the thought of it.

“Uh-huh,” you prompt. You slip your palm under your shirt, sliding it through the heat that your t-shirt traps against your shower-warmed skin.

“I’d get my mouth on you,” he growls, deeper now. “Right between your thighs, sweetness. God, I can’t wait to taste you again.”

There’s a strange sort of tightness to his voice. But you’re right there behind him, slipping your fingers into your pajamas and stroking over the swell of your warming folds.

“Eat you out nice and slow,” he continues. You don’t even have to egg him on anymore. You cradle the phone between your ear and the pillow, losing yourself in the baritone of his loving voice.

“Keep going,” you rasp at some point. You know how to touch yourself like clockwork, and you’re working yourself carefully, imagining it’s his coarse hands, his tongue, his body over yours.

“I’d fuck you so good if I was over there right now,” he snarls. “Fuck you ‘till you can’t walk, baby. The second you get home, I’m gonna have you.”

“Bucky,” you warn, low and tight. “Baby, don’t stop.”

“That’s it,” he urges. “That’s right. Imagine taking my cock, sweetness. Take it all for me. Fuck, I can’t hold out. Take my cum, baby, take my whole goddamn load-“

His voice breaks, just as your own climax hits you and you ride it hard. It’s nothing like the edges he’s been able to bring you to, but it’s relief, and when you resurface you can hear him panting softly into the receiver.

“Did you just…?” You trail off, lifting your heavy head.

“Yeah,” he croaks, still breathless. “Yeah, shit. Wish you could see what a mess you made ‘a me.”

You lick your lips, sighing deep to calm your still-racing heart.

“Well,” you offer. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Just before you hang up, he’s laughing in your ear all over again. And you’re melting right through the phone all over again, too.

“Baby,” he croons, with all the love in the world lacing his voice, “you got yourself a deal.”