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cvrnelians · 1 year

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black sheep

dark!eddie brock AU - After years of struggling with your mental health, you are relieved to be diagnosed with and treated for bipolar disorder. You finally feel strong enough to move to New York and pursue your dream as an artist.

When you respond to an ad for a newspaper interview for World Mental Health Day, you meet Eddie Brock, a reporter that you instantly take a liking to. You write it off as a silly, one sided crush, and continue to focus on yourself and your career. But not long after your interview, you start to feel like someone is watching you.

Perhaps Eddie Brock likes you a little more than you think…

warnings: stalking, manipulation.

You were not sure why it caught your eye.

Interviewees Needed for Article - Pay $50 per interview

We at The Daily Bugle are looking for individuals with various mental health diagnoses for an editorial as a tribute to World Mental Health Day. Pseudonyms allowed if preferred. Participants of any age are welcome.

Having just moved to Brooklyn, you figured you would download the app for the local newspaper, The Daily Bugle. You sifted through the upcoming events, remaining optimistic that you would at least attempt to be social. Being a freelance artist, you mainly wanted to keep an eye out for any potential job leads. You considered posting an ad of your own to promote your small business, but you weren’t sure you could call it a business quite yet. At times, you weren’t even sure that you could confidently call yourself an artist. Even so, you had managed to sell enough commissions to land yourself a tiny apartment in the city.

The ad was simple and straightforward. You probably wouldn’t have even found it if you hadn’t scrolled all the way down. It wasn’t the paid gig you were looking for, but fifty dollars was fifty dollars. If there was one thing you were completely sure of, it was that you were a qualified candidate for this article.

Your official diagnosis, courtesy of your psychiatrist, had been an unexpected relief. Bipolar II. You routinely beat yourself up for not coming to that conclusion on your own, for not realizing it sooner. You had been on and off various SSRIs for years, ever since you were a teenager, and they had either not worked at all or made your symptoms worse. You learned a lot about yourself in hindsight. Your mother always referred to you as a “night owl.” Little did you realize, all of those late nights spent creating more paintings than you knew what to do with were the product of hypomania. Your depressive episodes were always far worse than your hypomanic episodes, the last being your most severe. It nearly landed you in the hospital.

Finally—finally—after years of trial and error, you decided to start seeing a new psychiatrist about six months prior. You credited her for changing your life, for helping you find a medication that not only helped you function on a basic level, but helped you to thrive. You had wanted to move to the city ever since you graduated high school. With the way your mental health had been deteriorating, you never thought you would actually do it.

But you did, and you did it all on your own. As lonely as you felt and as broke as you were, the thought made you smile. It gave you hope.

After a few minutes of staring at your phone, you figured you would give it a shot. If you wanted to protect your privacy, you could just use a pseudonym. Or maybe, just maybe, the article would provide you with an opportunity to promote your art. Startled, you heard a raspy and exhaustion laden “Yeah?” on the first ring. Whoever this man was, it sounded like he had just woken up.

“Um…hi,” you said awkwardly. “I’m inquiring about an ad that I found in The Daily Bugle, the one about World Mental Health Day? Do I have the right number?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Hey.”

You could hear the person grumble on the end of the line, almost as if he was stretching.

“Are you still conducting interviews? I tried checking on the app, but it didn’t say when the ad was posted.”

The man chuckled. “Yeah, that stupid thing. They just launched it recently. They’ve been trying to get it up and running for ages. They’ve had some kid who’s not even qualified working on it.”

“Ah,” you said. “That explains a lot actually. It kept, like, zooming in and out as I was scrolling through?”

“Hah, figures. I deleted the thing from my phone two minutes after I downloaded it. It crashes pretty much every day. The website sucks, too. Honestly, you’re better off just buying the actual paper, but no one does that anymore.”

The man cleared his throat.

“But yeah, I’m still doing interviews,” he said. “Where in the city are you located?”

You agreed to meet at a hole-in-the wall cafe nearby. You had never been there before.

“It’s quiet enough that we’ll be able to actually hear each other speak, and secluded enough that no one will hear what we’re discussing. I, uh…I know this stuff is really personal and hard for people to talk about, so I want to give you that respect. We can go to a more popular place if you’d be more comfortable with that. Or we could meet up at the park. If you need proof that I’m a real reporter, my name’s Eddie Brock. You can google me…or search for my articles on that app we love so much.”

You smiled to yourself. You liked Eddie Brock.

“No,” you said. “The place you suggested should be just fine.”

Luckily, you didn’t live too far from one another. The coffee shop was only a ten minute walk for you. You got there before he did, ordering yourself a large coffee. The place was kind of shabby, but the old woman at the counter had a kind face. She made you feel seen, like you weren’t just a number in the vast metropolis that was New York. She reminded you of home.

You shoved some cash into the tip jar and walked over to an open booth. As Eddie had stated, the place wasn’t very crowded. You had quite a few spots to choose from. You sat there for a few minutes, your fingers fidgeting as you took large sips of your coffee and scrolled through Instagram. As rundown as the place was, you had to admit that the coffee was pretty spectacular.

Fifteen minutes after you were supposed to meet up, a man in a worn out leather jacket stumbled through the doorway. He seemed to have some trouble opening the door, pulling at the handle despite it being a push door. You couldn’t help but smirk, pressing your lips together to keep from laughing. As he walked in, the woman at the counter shook her head.

“Eddie, I’ve told you ten times now!” she said.

They both spoke in unison. “You have to push the door open.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know, May,” Eddie said. He suddenly dropped what appeared to be a motorcycle helmet on the floor, causing you both to jump.

“Jesus Christ…” he grumbled.

“The usual?” May asked, already turning towards the cappuccino machine.

“Yup,” he said, placing some crumpled up bills and a bunch of coins on the counter. He peered around the cafe at the very few patrons, his brows furrowed. You gave him a little wave.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, barreling towards you. It was quickly becoming clear to you that Eddie was not the most graceful person in the world.

“Hi,” you said timidly. The prospect of talking about your mental health issues with someone you didn’t know suddenly felt very intimidating. You stood up from your spot as he reached out to shake your hand.

“Eddie Brock,” he said, giving you a smile that instantly put you at ease. It wasn’t one of those polite, surface level smiles that acquaintances typically doled out. It seemed genuine, like he was actually happy to see you. “Nice to meet you.”

He sat down and placed his helmet on his side of the booth.

“You rode your motorcycle here?” you asked. Ugh. Obviously. Why were you so awkward?

“Oh, yeah. I’m sorry I’m late. I try to be on time for my interviews, but it’s rare that I’m ever on time for anything. I did run into some heavy traffic today, though. I swear.”

“It’s alright,” you said. “I’ve got all day.”

“Day off?” he asked, smiling warmly at you.

“Um…” Every day was a day off for you lately. “Yes…?”

May slammed his drink on the counter. “If you want your drink, you better come over and get it, Eddie. I’m not a waitress.”

Eddie playfully rolled his eyes. “Hold on, hold on,” he said in mock exasperation. May stood with her hands on her hips. He picked up the mug and tipped it up at her. “Thanks, darlin’.”

May smiled and shook her head again, redirecting her focus on cleaning off the counter.

You took a sip of your drinks at the same time as he sat back down. You shot him a knowing look.

“Good, right?” he asked. “This place is a real gem. I’ve been coming here for a while now. May takes up a big chunk of my paycheck.”

“No joke, this is probably the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had,” you conceded.

“Right?!” As you eyed him more closely, it was plain to see that he was both freshly showered and a bit hungover. He smelled like mint and aftershave, and his hair was still slightly wet.

“Alright,” he said, rubbing beneath his eye with his knuckle. “I’m not going to ask you to tell me a little bit about yourself. As a reporter, I hate that question. I really, truly do. The answers are almost never honest or authentic—not completely, anyway. I like the complete story, the real one. Besides, this isn’t a job interview, and I’m not going to put you on the spot like that.”

Okay. You really liked Eddie Brock.

“If anything I’m asking makes you uncomfortable, though, tell me and I’ll scrap it. It’s an editorial. It’s meant to empower people with mental illness, so you control the narrative. If we finish up this interview and you start feeling remorse, tell me and I’ll scrap it, as long as you tell me before the first of the month. Once I submit it, there’s nothing I can do. But you’re getting your fifty bucks either way.”

You nodded. “Got it.”

“Alright. You ready?”

You nodded.

“Let’s get down to business, then,” he said, pulling out his phone. “Is it okay if I record this? I won’t post it anywhere. I’ll delete it after I finish the article, I just need to transcribe it.”

“Yeah, that’s no problem.”

The conversation was really fluid and natural for what it was. It felt like a normal, everyday discussion. Initially, he just asked you a lot about your job and your life before moving to the city. He would occasionally interject and tell you about himself, providing the right amount of give-and-take to make you feel at ease. He was originally from San Francisco. He moved to New York for college and wound up staying after he graduated. He had been a reporter at The Daily Bugle for a few years, and preferred to delve into some serious investigative journalism whenever the opportunity presented itself. He dabbled in photography, too.

It was around ten minutes in that he started asking you about your mental health. It was bizarre just how comfortable you felt with Eddie, more comfortable than you had felt with anyone in a very long time. It was like a dam had broken. The words came out of you before you could stop them, perhaps because you had spent so much time alone since moving to the city, without anyone to talk to. More likely, though, it was because you knew you wouldn’t be at risk of oversharing. He actually wanted the whole scoop. That was what he was paying you for.

More than that, though, it seemed like he was truly listening—like he actually cared. There was something about the way he looked at you.

“I don’t think I’ll even need that audio file,” he chuckled. “I don’t know if you could tell, but I feel really…invested, I guess is the right word, in your story.”

“Sorry…” you said. You weren’t sure why you were even apologizing. You swore it was just a natural reflex for you. It was something for you to work on.

“I just want you to know, it means something to me that you told me all this.”

You let out a nervous laugh, averting your eyes towards your coffee. You ran your pointer finger over the edge of the mug.

“No,” he said, placing his hand over yours. “I’m serious. Look at me. Look up at me.”

When you looked up, you were caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze, the unwavering sincerity there. The color of his eyes was interesting; not quite blue, not quite green. Hazel. Kind of pretty, really.

“This isn’t just another story for me. The fact that you trusted me enough to be so honest…I don’t take that for granted. Thank you.”

You gave him a small smile. He grabbed your hands and enclosed them with his, squeezing a tiny bit before letting them go. “I’ll do right by you with this article. I meant what I said about you controlling the narrative. You have any regrets, you call me and it’s gone.”

“Thanks, Eddie,” you said. “It’s been really nice talking to you. And thank you for the money. I almost feel tempted to give it back to you.”

He waved his hand flippantly at you, as if the gesture would wipe that thought away completely.

“Oh, by the way. Did you want to use a pseudonym? I’m totally fine with that. But—and this is not to sound patronizing—I think using your real name would be a great opportunity for you to promote your business, and I would like to give you that opportunity.”

You were somewhat hesitant to do so given the personal nature of the article. You had initially replied to it because the offer of a pseudonym meant that you had nothing to lose. But when you thought about it, you needed more than just this fifty dollars to tie you over, and you could really use that kind of exposure. Not to mention, you were tired of being made to feel ashamed of your diagnosis. As scary as it was, being open about it was consistent with your values. It helped set a precedent. You quickly gave him your social media handle, along with the name of your website.

You both sat in silence for a while. Your drinks were finished. You had already thanked each other for your time. There was no reason to stick around. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to get up and leave. You felt a little drained from releasing all of that pent up energy, and you assumed Eddie felt tired from listening to all of it. How long had it been—an hour? Two? That was a lot of talking.

“Can I ask you something?” you probed, the words escaping before you could stop them.

“Ah, now it’s my turn to be in the hot seat,” he mused. “Maybe I should order another coffee.”

“Why did you want to write about this?” you asked. “Was it something your boss assigned to you, or were you just interested…?”

Eddie paused for a long moment, thinking to himself.

“Well,” he said wistfully. “I would be lying to you if I told you that I didn’t have my own issues. I think we all do. Some people—” he gestured towards you. “—are just more honest about it than others. I wanted to take on this project because I have a personal connection to it, and I think it’s important for people to talk about. To tell you the truth, I got fired from my job a few months ago. Not for long, but long enough for me to sink into a pretty deep depression. I didn’t get out of bed for a while. I wasn’t eating, I wasn’t checking my mail, I wasn’t paying my bills, I wasn’t even showering. It was really dark for a while. I know there are other jobs out there, but I felt crushed. I was lucky that they decided to bring me back on. I pretty much had to beg for my spot back, but I’m here now nonetheless.”

“I’m really sorry, Eddie.”

He shrugged. “It could’ve been much worse, but thank you.“

“Can I ask why you got fired?”

Another sigh. “I was writing a piece about this serial killer that was terrorizing the city for a good six months or so. That story became my whole life. I ate, slept, and breathed that case. It meant that much to me. I wanted to be the one to catch and expose the killer. I genuinely felt like I had the capacity to do it, like I was on the edge of finding the truth.

“I ended up finding out who the killer was. At least, I thought I did. I told the police, and they ended up conducting an investigation. They turned up with nothing, but I was just so sure of myself. I ended up publishing the story in The Daily Bugle. I didn’t ask my boss or any of the editors for permission. I did it entirely on my own, which you’re never supposed to do. I sort of…snuck it onto the front page. It took a lot of finagling, but I was desperate. I really wanted people to know who this guy was. It wasn’t even about my ego as a reporter at that point. I didn’t care about breaking the big story anymore. No one at work believes me when I tell them that, but really I just wanted to protect people. That was all I wanted.”

“It wasn’t the guy, was it?” you asked.

He ran his hand through his hair and sighed.

“That kid that I mentioned, the one that created the app? He was the one that caught the guy. My boss wrote an article exposing me for doing what I did after talking to him. He was the one who got me fired. Peter Parker.”

Even though you agreed with what Peter did, you liked Eddie enough to want to make him feel better about the situation. He was only human, after all. His intentions had been good, but the way he went about it had been godawful.

“That’s a stupid name,” you blurted out.

He chuckled wryly. “Yeah, I thought so, too. But he helped protect the city. I didn’t. Not to mention, I accused an innocent man of something he didn’t do. I tried to have him incarcerated. What if he had been? I feel terrible about that every day. I’ve tried reaching out to him to apologize, but he hates me. I can’t say I blame him.

“Even though the story itself wasn’t about my ego, the fact that I screwed up so royally and lost my job bruised my ego quite a bit. It was just so humiliating. I’m lucky my family doesn’t give a shit about what I’m up to, because if they found out what happened, they would torture me about it until the end of time.”

You suddenly felt lost for words. All you could come up with was, “I’m sorry, Eddie.”

He gave you a light smile and turned to look out the window.

“I always say that I came to this city because I wanted to try something new. I wanted to live in New York; see the sights, become a real journalist, carve out a path of my own. Now that’s all true, but the real story is that I probably would have gone anywhere to escape where I grew up. Ask anyone in my family, and they’d be happy to inform you that I’m the undisputed black sheep.”

In spite of his wrongs, the look on his face tugged on something within you. You loved your family, but you could relate to feeling like an outsider. It was glaringly obvious that your parents would always like your older sister more than they liked you. And why wouldn’t they? She was smart, hardworking, beautiful. She had a well-paying job and a perfect little family of her own.

And she wasn’t bipolar.

“It’s embarrassing to admit, but I was nasty towards that Parker kid long before he broke that story about me. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not in my nature to be a bully. I used to beat up kids like that in school,” he emphasized, raising his hands defensively. “But something about that boy reminds me so much of my little brother, and I hate my brother.”

“Why?” you asked. “Was he a jerk?”

“No,” he said. “Not at all, actually. That’s the worst part. When I was much younger, I loved my brother. He was a nerd, and I was always very protective of him. But when I got to be around—I don’t know, thirteen or fourteen—things changed. My parents saw him as the golden child. They practically worshipped the ground he walked on. I kind of understand it now. He was a good kid. He was smart, he did well in school, and he was just so nice. Good-natured, eager to help out. Like that Parker kid. I was a bit of a rebel, so…”

He took a large gulp of his coffee. “He’s a doctor now, the little prick.”

You laughed. “Probably a very good doctor, I’m guessing?”

“Oh, I have no doubt about that,” he said. “Neither do my parents. I don’t really speak to him if I can avoid it. He used to try and reach out to me, but he doesn’t anymore unless it’s around the holidays. Whenever I’m caught up in an episode of self-loathing, I’ll unblock him on Facebook so I can see what he’s up to. I’m sorry to bore you with all this, though. I know this ain’t about me.”

“Y’know, I could definitely picture you being a little rebel,” you said, a grin spreading across your face. “Did you have a motorcycle as a teenager, too?”

He shot you a look. “Oh, I had a motorcycle alright…if you could call it that. It was seriously a deathtrap. I bought it off Craigslist for five hundred bucks, long before I got my motorcycle license. I would ride around the neighborhood without a helmet on and rev the engine to try and impress girls. I still have the tattoo I got illegally, too.”

He turned his head downwards and lifted up his jeans to show you his ankle. On it was a faded red anarchy symbol with very shaky line work.

You laughed.

“Wow. Badass.”

He rolled his eyes and laughed. “I was so embarrassing. No wonder why my parents didn’t like me.”

He gave you the money he promised and even bought you a coffee for the road. He informed you that the story would be published the following month, the morning of World Mental Health Day. You parted ways with a friendly hug. Part of you was hoping that he would ask if you wanted to hang out sometime, but you quickly shoved the thought from your mind. He was a writer doing a story. Just because he was nice to you one time didn’t mean that he owed you his attention. Even if you would never see him again, you felt grateful to know at least one person in the city. Actually two now, having met May.

The following week was a strange one, to say the least.

It started off promisingly enough. On Monday morning, you received an order on your website for some small prints you had done a while ago. It was all from the same person. They wanted the prints shipped to a P.O. box, and they had listed their name as ‘Alien Symbiote.’ You had to laugh. If there was anyone out there that you wanted as a customer, it was someone that referred to themselves as ‘Alien Symbiote.’

You swiftly mailed the prints out and decided to stop by that cafe Eddie had introduced you to. You wanted to start off your week seeing a familiar face, and May did not disappoint. She gave you your drink to-go with a smile and a “Hope to see you back here soon!”

"Don’t worry,” you reassured her. You will.”

You made your trip to the cafe quick. A part of you secretly hoped you might see Eddie there, but that made you feel like a massive creep. If he was going to show up any time soon—which you highly doubted, given how hectic his job probably was—you skedaddled before he could. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. You just really, really wanted that coffee.

You took a stroll through the park for half an hour or so before sitting down on a nearby bench. You put your headphones in and set to work on some random illustrations in your sketchbook. You must have listened to the same song thirty times—as you were prone to do when you found a new song you liked—before you finally got sick of it and changed it to something else. Hours passed as you scribbled, shaded, outlined and erased anything and everything that crossed your mind. Lately you were on a wildlife kick. The cornfields and pastures you drew made you feel a little homesick. You stopped yourself before you would inevitably cry, and focused on running errands instead. Walking around with music playing in your ears made grocery store runs much more enticing.

When you got home, you collapsed onto your bed to take a late afternoon nap. Just as you were about to fall asleep, you felt a nice breeze circulating throughout your room. You opened your eyes slowly, your gaze shifting towards your window—which had been left wide open. You couldn’t remember opening it; not that morning, not last night. You typically kept all of your windows closed and locked, but you had woken up feeling pretty exhausted. In fact, you were waking up pretty exhausted most mornings. You wrote it off as a side effect of your medication. Maybe you had opened it while you were getting ready and left it ajar without being fully aware of what you were doing. You left it as it was during your nap. You would make sure to shut and lock it when you woke up. The breeze was just so nice.

The next few days were when things got weird.

Your psychiatrist from your hometown had referred you to a new psychiatrist a few blocks from where you lived. You knew you could trust her referral. Your new psychiatrist had a very warm presence. He exceeded your expectations. When you brought up the tiredness you experienced from your medication, he said there was likely an easy fix. He suggested that you try a new medication. If it didn’t work out, you could always switch back to the old one. You were a bit wary at first, but he reassured you that a large number of his Bipolar II patients recounted positive experiences with this particular drug.

It all started on your late night walk home from the pharmacy. You took out your headphones for a brief moment to untangle the wires, and that was when you heard it. There was a set of footsteps walking directly behind you, almost like they were trying to keep pace with you. You whipped your head around, spotting some typical passerby. A family, two women laughing, a guy walking his dog. You figured that maybe a cat had skittered by right next to you or something.

But it happened again the next night. And the night after that. And in the afternoon, and in the morning. You kept hearing those footsteps right behind you. Sometimes when you turned around, you could see another shadow in addition to yours, only for it to quickly disappear. It felt like someone was watching you, like someone was following you. You tried to reason with yourself that this paranoia was due to your new medication, but you remembered hearing those footsteps the night prior to even starting it.

There was other stuff, too.

You kept forgetting to lock your window at night, which was strange, because you could never remember unlocking it. You woke up on Friday to find that you had misplaced a few of your drawings. After scouring your entire apartment to find them, you realized they may have fallen out of your sketchbook during one of your many walks through the park.

It didn’t help that your new medication was making you nauseous. Your psychiatrist had reassured you that this was a typical side effect within the first two weeks, and that it would most likely pass after that point. If it didn’t, you could always try something else (as frustrating as that idea was). In spite of the nausea, you were starting to feel less tired in the mornings, and you hadn’t been experiencing any racing thoughts or depressive symptoms.

You lost your headphones at some point in the midst of this, which was disappointing. Although you received a few commissions via Instagram that week, you didn’t want to factor a new pair of headphones into your budget this month. You figured you would wait for another online order or commission until splurging on yourself.

Your concerns about money and issues with nausea seemed to have no effect on your coffee intake, however. You stopped by to see May every few days, more than willing to spend as much as you needed to in order to get your fix. On Friday afternoon, May stopped you before you could head out the door.

“Eddie was here this morning,” she said. “I think he’s been looking for you. He asked if I had seen you at all this week.”

You felt a rush of gaiety at her words.

“Really?”

May nodded. “I told him it was none of his business until he bought something. And then when he bought something, I told him it was still none of his business,” she chuckled. “But then he tipped me, and I relented.”

You wondered if the number you called him with was a landline at work or something. But it couldn’t have been. When you first spoke to him, it sounded like he had literally just woken up, unless he had fallen asleep at his desk. Maybe he received a lot of phone calls due to the ad, and wasn’t sure which number was yours in his call log.

May leaned towards you and gestured for you to come closer to the counter. When you leaned in, she whispered, “I think that man is a little sweet on you, to tell you the truth.”

You felt your stomach flip, and you suddenly felt flustered. You really wanted to believe that. It was hard not to like Eddie. He was kind and perceptive and real. But it was more likely that he wanted to speak with you about the story. As disappointed as that made you feel, you were happy to help him out in any way you could.

“Thanks, May,” you said, clearing your throat. “I’ll get in touch with him.”

🕷

You laid in bed, scrolling through your phone as a Hulu documentary blared at you from your tv. It didn’t take long to find Eddie’s number. The only other people in your call log since moving to Brooklyn were your mom, your sister, and a few telemarketers. You typed in his number like you were about to text him, then deleted it. You did this several times. You wanted to contact him, but you also didn’t want to seem like some clingy weirdo that lacked boundaries.

But he had been looking for you…

You set your phone down on the dresser next to your bed and restarted the documentary. You hadn’t been paying much attention to it, and it seemed fairly interesting. Maybe you would text him in the morning.

When you were just on the verge of sleep, your phone startled you awake. Someone was calling you. You scrambled to turn down the volume on your tv. With blurry vision, you reached to grab it, your fingers fumbling as you got ahold of your phone. You moved your finger across the touch screen and held it up it to your ear without even really looking at the number that was calling you.

“Hello?” you said with a yawn.

“Hi. This is Eddie Brock, the writer from The Daily Bugle? I conducted an interview with you about a week ago.”

You immediately sat up. “Yeah! Eddie. Hey.”

If you weren’t mistaken, it was like you could hear him smile through the phone.

“I’m sorry to be calling so late,” he lamented. “If you want, I can call you back sometime tomorrow at a more reasonable time. You sound a little tired.”

You looked at the clock. 9:15pm. Wow. Given all the naps you so enjoyed, it wasn’t like you to fall asleep so early in the evening.

“Nonono, it’s totally fine. It’s really not that late. How are you?”

“Ah, well. Overworked. Underpaid. You know the deal,” he said. “How have you been?”

“Not too bad. May told me you were looking for me?”

“Yeah,” he said with a breathy laugh.

Did he sound…embarrassed?

“I’m so sorry to bother you with this, but I was hoping I could see you again sometime soon. I have a few more questions I wanted to ask for the article. Also—if this makes you uncomfortable, stop me now—the bossman suggested that we get some photos to go along with it.”

“Photos?”

“Yeah, a few pictures of the people I interviewed; only the ones that were okay with sharing their identities, obviously. They won’t be printed in the actual paper, but they’ll be posted online when the story comes out.”

You mulled that over for a second. It was scary thinking of people seeing what you looked like and knowing so much information about you. But if you wanted to promote your business and be seen as a legitimate artist, you figured there had to be some price to pay. Besides, if anyone decided to take a peek at your social media after reading the article, they would end up seeing your face, anyway.

“You can say no,” he said, his words adamant. “We can just finish up some more questions for the interview, or we can forgo those altogether. I know this is a lot to ask from you, and I have more than enough material t—”

“No,” you interrupted. “No, Eddie, it’s fine. I’m totally okay with that. If I’m willing to fully reveal my identity, I think it’ll help normalize my diagnosis in some small way. It shows people they shouldn’t be ashamed of it.”

“That’s what my boss said, and I mostly agreed. I just don’t want to risk it being exploitative on any level. But are you really sure? The last thing I want to do is waste your time.”

“I appreciate that. I’m sure.”

“There’s just one little thing,” he said.

“…Okay?”

“I’m going to be the one taking the photos. I actually started off as a photographer at The Bugle before I landed my writing gig. We can shoot them literally anywhere you want. The sidewalk, the park, your apartment, wherever. But I can find you a female photographer if you’d be more comfortable with that.”

“No, I trust you. But if the photos turn out bad—which won’t be your fault, I assure you—I’m not above begging you to throw your camera into the ocean.”

“Don’t get it twisted,” he said with a laugh. “I think you’re gonna make my job very easy…”

Then, more quietly, “…being such a beautiful subject and all.”

He was just being nice, you told yourself. He didn’t really mean it. He just needed to get photos for his article, and he was probably schmoozing you to persuade you to do it.

Even so, it was nice to hear, especially coming from him.

🕷

Okay. So you didn’t know Eddie super well. It was probably not the best idea to invite this virtual stranger to your apartment. But there was something about him that made you feel safe, as ridiculous as that sounded. Maybe it was because he told you about his dynamic with his family, a dynamic that you were all too familiar with. Or maybe it was just your new medication, which you were developing a few concerns about.

You could feel yourself becoming increasingly scatterbrained as of late. You kept losing things; paintbrushes, your favorite shirt, the sketchbook from your freshman year of college. Once every few days, you would arrive home to find something out of place. Your window was unlocked, the cabinet drawers in your kitchen were left open, your blankets were all over the place when you thought you made your bed that morning. You even started to wonder if your apartment was haunted, but you were experiencing that same uneasiness every time you went out.

Wherever you went, you could swear you heard a set of footsteps trailing behind you, especially at night. But whenever you turned around to see who it was, no one was there. The worst part was the heavy feeling of eyes on you at all times. You weren’t sure why, but you could feel this energy in the air like someone was watching you. One night while you were attempting to cook, you spotted someone out of the corner of your eye. They were across the street, a shadow staring up into your window. When you looked outside, however, all you saw was the normal rush of people walking along the sidewalks. You started keeping your curtains closed at all times and bought a few cheap lamps to try and create an illusion of natural light. Even though you knew you were just being paranoid, your blackout curtains made you feel just a tiny bit more comfortable.

A teeny, tiny bit.

But you wanted to give this new medication a chance. Apart from the paranoia, you felt pretty stable. You weren’t buying anything impulsively or lying in bed for days on end. You woke up most mornings feeling refreshed and energetic, and kept yourself on a routine as you worked from home.

When the day came that Eddie visited you, you were really happy to see him. It was borderline pathetic. You stood up from the couch as soon as you heard his motorcycle pull up outside. You peered out the window to find him struggling to open the front doors, pushing instead of pulling. You chuckled as you watched him curse at himself and lean his head back in defeat, finally jarring them open.

When he knocked on your apartment door, you waited a few seconds before opening it. You didn’t want to appear as eager to see him as you felt. You pulled all the curtains open and turned off the lamps. It was a sunny day out, and you didn’t want him to think you were weird. As soon as you swung the door open, he smiled brightly at you.

“Hey,” you greeted him shyly.

“Hey you,” he said, as if you were old friends reuniting after a long time apart. He dropped his helmet onto the floor and pulled you into a tight hug, twisting and lifting you up slightly as he did. That same smell of mint and aftershave wafted through the air. Your feelings of paranoia and uncertainty felt like a distant memory.

He shifted his focus to your marginally messy living space. Although clean, you had paintings on canvases of various sizes stacked up all along the floor. Your charcoal pencils and oil pastels were strewn across your desk, along with a pile of unfinished commissions.

“Holy shit,” he muttered.

“I know it’s complete and utter chaos in here. I meant to clean up before you got here, but I’ve been kind of bus—”

“No,” he said, approaching one of your paintings on a larger canvas. You had completed it a while ago, a still life of the house you grew up in. He lifted it up and examined it carefully. He turned towards the other canvases and rifled through them.

He turned back towards you and raised his eyebrows. “You made these?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Not my best work, but—”

“If this isn’t your best work, then your best work has to be, like…godly.”

You snorted. “Eddie.”

“I’m serious!” he exclaimed. “I mean, I’ll admit it. I’ve creeped on your social media, and you were as talented as I thought you would be. But these are on another level.”

You figured you would spend the day walking around the park—which you did—but only after Eddie took you to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. You talked for hours, so much so that you hadn’t realized how few questions he had asked that were pertinent to the interview. You mostly just chit chatted about your daily lives, and thoughts and feelings on various topics. Your favorite movies, books, music, places. Your dream vacation, your favorite stores. He didn’t ask to voice record any of it. The only Daily Bugle related thing you did was pose for a few photos in the park, which you refused to even look at.

“I’m going to tear myself to shreds if I see them,” you said over your second cup of May’s coffee. “I’m serious. Don’t show them to me. I want you to have photos for your article and I don’t want to be annoying and ask you to retake a bunch of them.”

“We can retake as many photos as you want,” he said sympathetically. “But you really do look great in these. No surprise there.”

You could seriously get used to being complimented by Eddie Brock.

It was dark by the time you decided to call it quits. You couldn’t believe how quickly the day flew by. Eddie couldn’t, either.

“The article will be published in a few weeks. If by any chance you want to see the photos, you can take a look at the website. They should all be there.”

“Or, y’know. The app,” you teased.

He rolled his eyes. “No, not the app. Never the app.”

True to his word, the article came out the morning of World Mental Health Day. It was beautifully written. He had inserted well-researched facts and figures throughout, and paid respect to the subjects he interviewed, maintaining and promoting their dignity. The photos he posted were really good quality, edited in black and white. Apart from you, he had photographed around five other people. Yours was at the very bottom of the page, a candid photo of you laughing. You were pleasantly surprised. You actually looked kind of nice. He had even printed your website and social media handle in bold.

You shot him a text, opting not to call him during the workday.

Eddie, oh my god! It’s amazing!!!! Thank you so much!

You received a reply just a few seconds later.

Like I said, you made my job easy.

In the hours that followed, you received an overflow of commission requests and hits to your website. You were beaming as you replied to the incoming messages. Not much later, you received another text from Eddie.

Bold question for you. Would you want to grab a celebratory drink sometime?

Um…YES. Was that even a question? You let out a happy sigh as you texted him back.

As long as I’m buying. I owe you big time.

Later that night after finishing a few commissions, you set to work on a sketch for Eddie. It was risky, but you wanted to help him see his hometown through new eyes, just as you had been doing lately. You wanted to recreate San Francisco as something beautiful and safe for him to take the edge off of some of his crappy memories. He told you he always enjoyed visiting the Wave Organ when he felt bummed out. You took that tidbit of information and ran with it.

In contrast to the elation you felt, you were startled from a deep sleep the following morning by a jarring nightmare. As you were sitting in bed working away on your Wave Organ illustration, a gel-like string came through your open window and curled itself around the walls. Your eyes widened as more and more of these long, black strings came through the window. You sat there stunned, unable to move as they took up larger and larger amounts of space within your tiny room. Suddenly, a head poked its way through your window. It was the most terrifying thing you had ever seen. It looked like some kind of alien you had only ever seen in movies, with giant white eyes and sharp teeth. It was massive and looked insanely strong. It moved closer and closer towards you, clutching onto the edge of your bed with its claws. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of you. You couldn’t cry, couldn’t scream. You could barely breathe. After staring at you for a few seconds, twisting its head to the side, it poked its tongue out at you and let out this awful roaring, screaming noise.

Without even thinking, you flipped to a blank page in your sketchbook as soon as you woke up. You picked up a charcoal pencil and etched the creature onto the page in under an hour. You weren’t sure why you felt so compelled to recreate what you saw. It was like something else was controlling your hands as you drew. When you finally finished, you threw your pen down on the page and let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

🕷

“Bold question,” Eddie said, clinking his beer against yours. You hated beer, but he was adamant that the hole in the wall bar you met up at had a beer selection that even you would enjoy.

“Oh no. Not another one,” you joked, taking a sip of your drink.

Huh. He wasn’t wrong. Your beer (which he refused to allow you to pay for) was actually pretty good.

He leaned his cheek against his fist, sliding his elbow across the counter.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

You raised your eyebrows. “I don’t. Why do you ask?”

He smiled, taking a swig of his drink. “You would think I’d have asked you before. I really should have. I mean, I’m pretty invested at this point…but yeah, no. It’s good that you don’t have a boyfriend.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed. “I would have to agree. I don’t have the best track record when it comes to those.”

“No?” he asked. He placed both his elbows on the counter and draped his wrists along the edge, leaning closer towards you. He was looking at you like that was some kind of challenge, like he knew something you didn’t. “I think I can change that.”

You felt an inkling of courage at his words, reaching into your bag to pull out the Wave Organ drawing in its silly little dollar store frame. You were slowly starting to accept that Eddie Brock had a crush on you, maybe an even bigger crush on you than you had on him, if that was possible. You really, really hoped he wouldn’t think your thankful gesture wasn’t cringeworthy.

He craned his head around you to peer at the drawing. “What’s that?”

“Well…” you said, taking a deep breath. “I’m not sure if I can ever properly repay you for what you’ve done, but this is my attempt.” You held it out to him abruptly, resisting the urge to clamp your eyes shut.

He gently picked it up, pulling it closer to his face to get a good look.

“Is this…”

“The Wave Organ. I felt really sad when you told me about all the bad memories you had growing up. You mentioned that this was one of the places you liked to escape to when you were feeling low. I know this in no way erases those memories, but I wanted to give you something that could help you see San Francisco from your own, untainted point of view. I hope one day the city won’t be as ruined for you as it is now. It’s not just your family’s home. It’s yours, too. No one gets to take that away from you.”

He stared at the drawing for a long time before squinting his eyes shut and clearing his throat. He twisted his head to the side to crack his neck and cleared his throat before opening them again.

“Man…you’re getting me a little choked up over here,” he said, his voice gravelly. He set the frame down on the counter and wiped a stray tear from the corner of his eye. Maybe it hadn’t been the best move to give him such a personal gift in such a dingy bar. It wasn’t your intention to make him upset or bring the mood down. You placed your hand over his, scrambling to come up with a good apology.

“Eddie, I—”

“This just might be the best gift anyone has ever given me,” he said, brushing his thumb along the side of your hand.

He looked like he actually meant it.

And then he leaned in and kissed you. It seemed like it was simultaneously the shortest and longest kiss in the world. You got totally lost kissing him, forgetting that you were in a public place, forgetting everything.

Yup. You really, really liked Eddie Brock.

After a couple of hours, you decided to call it a night. Neither of you even really drank that much. You had one beer to his two, with lots of water and some stale chips in between. Before you could start on your walk home, Eddie stopped you.

“Hey, would you, um…would you want to come back to my place for a little bit?”

You raised your eyebrows and smirked.

“It doesn’t have to mean what you think it means, ya little goofball. I would be happy to just hang out and watch a movie with you. Like, actually watch a movie. If there’s anything I have an excess of, it’s popcorn. The good kind, too. Not that microwave shit.”

“Huh,” you mused, pretending to exaggeratedly think it over. “The good kind of popcorn, no microwave shit. A tempting prospect.”

You had to admit, you were kind of curious about what his apartment looked like. Eddie had somewhat of a messy vibe to him. Being just as engaged with his work as you were (if not more so), you figured he probably had a ton of paper and pens and post-its all over the place.

“And you’d get a free ride out of the deal with a very safe driver. I’ll even let you wear my helmet.”

You had never been on a motorcycle before.

“Well, no. I’m not letting you wear my helmet. I’m making you wear my helmet.” Before you could say anything, he pushed your hair back and slid the heavy black helmet down over your head. Once it was fully on, he lightly knocked on the side. “Gotta protect that beautiful little noggin.”

“But what about you?” you asked.

“What about me?” he asked, motioning for you to come closer as he got on the bike.

“Don’t you need a helmet?”

“Like I said, I’m a very safe driver.”

He wasn’t, but you didn’t mind.

🕷

Eddie Brock’s apartment was just what you had expected. It was very him, with brick accent walls and hardwood floors and a massive leather couch. There was a large bookshelf in the corner of the living room next to the kitchen, which was pretty clean if you ignored all the mugs and portable coffee cups in the sink. The space was dimly lit in spite of the vast quantity of light fixtures he had positioned everywhere. The living room was cluttered with random pieces of furniture he didn’t seem to know what to do with, and the coffee table had piles of papers stacked up on top of it.

“Well, this is it,” he said, tossing his keys onto the counter haphazardly. “I’m sorry it’s such a mess. Honestly I hadn’t been expecting any visitors tonight, so…”

“No?” you asked, leaning back against the fridge.

“You would think I’d have a hunch about these things, right?” he asked, pouring you a glass of water. “But no. I don’t know, I really was hoping you would want to come over here sometime, but I didn’t want to be presumptuous. When I really like someone, I try not to build my expectations up too high. I’m kind of surprised you’re here with me right now, actually. When I texted you this afternoon, I figured it was kind of a longshot.”

“Really?” you asked. “I thought it was pretty obvious that I had a massive crush on you.”

His face lit up as he shrugged his jacket off. “You had a crush on me?” he asked incredulously. “For how long?”

“I did. I do. Like, from the first time I met you.”

“Really?” he asked. “From when we did the interview at May’s? Are you sure?”

“I mean, that’s not something I’m typically uncertain about,” you chuckled. “I honestly thought you might have picked up on it.”

“No. Not at all! I wish I would have picked up on it. Maybe I wouldn’t have been so nervous sending you that text today if I had an inkling that I had a shot with you.”

“Why did you send it if you felt like you didn’t have a chance?” you asked playfully.

He shrugged. “I mean…can you really blame me for trying?”

He encouraged you to get comfortable on the couch as he set to work on the popcorn, none other than Jiffy Pop. You were surprised to find that he had a ton of DVDs in addition to being subscribed to a variety of streaming services.

“What are you in the mood for?” you asked.

“Hmm…” He turned his head towards you as he moved the pan over the stove. “Would it be weird to say horror?”

“Say no more.”

You settled on John Carpenter’s Halloween.

“Oh, where’s your bathroom?” you asked.

“Just down the hallway to the left. The lock doesn’t work, so…yeah. I won’t come bursting in on you.”

You laughed. “Good to know.”

After fixing your smudged eyeliner, straightening out your shirt, and taming a few stray hairs, you started heading back towards the living room.

And then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw it.

In the crack of a doorway was a familiar assortment of colors and lines. You pushed the door open just a tad bit more. There it was, just as you suspected: a collection of prints you had sold from your website the month prior. Your heart warmed at the thought. Eddie was the one that bought them. Eddie was ‘Alien Symbiote.’ He wanted to support your business without you knowing. He meant what he said. He really had liked your work.

You had no clue why he picked such a hilarious pseudonym, though.

You peeked down the hallway to see if Eddie had caught you snooping into his bedroom, but his back was turned to you as he worked on the popcorn. You weren’t sure why, but you pushed the door open just a tiny bit more.

You weren’t quite sure what you were seeing at first. What you were looking at was so overwhelming, so completely and utterly destabilizing that your mind couldn’t process it right away. There was just too much to take in. Eddie’s bedroom was much like the rest of the apartment, homey and cluttered and warm. But this type of clutter was…different.

Along his desk were piles of papers in complete disarray. But even through the mess, it was unmistakable.

Those were your drawings. Those were your headphones. Those were your paintbrushes. And that was your sketchbook from freshman year of college.

“Oh my god,” you whispered.

Your mind was spinning. There had to be some rational explanation as to why Eddie had those things. Your things. Things you thought you had lost or misplaced. Maybe you left them at May’s and he just so happened to find them and pick them up for you. That was a possibility, wasn’t it? That was a perfectly viable, reasonable explanation. Eddie wasn’t some kind of freak. Surely he wasn’t stalking you.

But you knew better.

Most damning of all was the bulletin board hung up above his desk. You could barely count the number of photos that were pinned up along that wall. There were photos of you walking to the post office, photos of you drawing in the park, at May’s, in your apartment. There were photos of you laughing, photos of you texting, photos of you watering the plants along your windowsill, even photos of you sleeping.

You felt like doing several things simultaneously as your nausea kicked into overdrive. You wanted to scream, cry, hide, jump out the window. You wanted to melt through the walls and avoid having to see him ever again as you bolted out of the building. You looked to the window to check for a fire escape, to no avail. It had to have been just outside the living room. You wondered if you could make it out there without him noticing, but that would be impossible. Eddie was super perceptive, and apparently hyper aware of your every move.

Almost every move. You had discovered his little…whatever this was without him knowing.

Not only was Eddie Brock a stalker, he was also a reporter. It was as if he was following you with the same fervor that he would a corrupt politician or a local hero or anyone else he was writing some in-depth exposé about. It was just so jarring. Only a few seconds ago, you felt lucky and hopeful about getting to know him better. Now all you wanted to do was erase yourself from his memory entirely.

If you lingered there any longer, you knew he would start to suspect something was up. You took a few deep breaths, trying your best not to hyperventilate. You crept down the hallway into the living room as quietly as you could. You looked back and forth from the kitchen to the living room a few times, making sure he wasn’t looking your way. Just when you were about to open the window, you heard his voice.

“Looks like we’re in business!” he exclaimed, walking towards you with a large bowl in his hands. “Now I know I talk a big game, but I’m like 99% certain that this will be the best popcorn you’ve ever had in your life.”

You whipped around instantly. Every muscle in your body felt tense and rigid. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. You just stared at him.

A look of concern flashed across his face. His gaze shifted towards your hands, which were visibly shaking. “You alright?”

“Um…yeah, no. I’m fine, Eddie. I’m just not feeling very well…”

You could feel the pinpricks of tears in your eyes. Shit.

“I think I need to go home. It’s late and I think I should get some s-sleep.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, setting the bowl down on the coffee table. “C’mere, I’ll give you a ride h—”

“No!” you cut him off, your voice louder than intended. Then, more quietly, “No, no, that’s okay, Eddie. I can walk.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s late. I need to know that you got home safe.”

His words made your stomach turn. He didn’t need to know anything.

“No, Eddie. No.” You pushed past him as you walked towards the kitchen counter, where you had left your phone. “I’m just gonna head out.”

“No, wait,” he said, jutting out in front of you. His hands hovered over your elbows. He was really close to you. Way too close. He smiled at you; a nervous, cloying, shifty smile. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You could feel warm tears rolling down your cheeks. Your breath became labored as you struggled to speak. “Please just let m—”

His face fell.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

You reached to grab your phone, but he was quicker. It shouldn’t have surprised you that he ripped your phone out of your hands, but you let out a little gasp when he did. You attempted to claw it away from him, but he pulled it out of reach every time you tried. His other hand was held out defensively, lightly pressing against your sternum as you lunged at him.

“Give me my phone!” you yelled. “Eddie, give me my phone!”

“Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked. Baby. That stupid, sickly sweet concerned look was still plastered on his face. You felt a rush of anger burn through your chest. He really had the audacity to act like he meant you no harm, like he was exactly the person you thought he was, to call you baby. But you weren’t just angry at him. You were also angry at yourself. How did you not see the signs sooner? Were there even any signs?

“Give it back to me now! You can’t just take my phone from me like that. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Calm down. Just calm down! I’ll give it back when you tell me what’s going on,” he said. It was clear that he was slightly panicked, too, trying his best to keep his voice even. “I…I thought tonight was going so well.”

“Yeah?” you mocked. “Yeah? Me, too!”

After one final attempt at reaching for your phone, you gave up and darted past him towards the door. He tossed your phone onto the couch and jumped out in front of you once again, gripping onto your upper arms.

“Let go of me!”

You were hoping if you screamed loud enough that the neighbors would notice, but you couldn’t hear anything outside of the apartment.

“Did I do something?” he asked.

“Oh no, we’re not gonna do this,” you sobbed, backing up against the door. He followed, caging you in.

“What are y—”

“Stop acting like you don’t know what’s going on!”

“Baby, I don’t know what y—”

“I found your room. I saw it. The pictures, the drawings. That’s probably not even all of it,” you said. Your voice didn’t sound like you. It was rough, raspy. “For the last month I thought I had been going crazy, that I was losing things. But you had them all along. All that weird stuff in my apartment—the window, the cabinets. All those pictures…you’ve been following me. Why?”

He stared at you with a look akin to a deer in headlights. Panicked and confused.

“WHY?” you repeated, making him wince.

He let out a breathy sigh, giving you that same nervous smile as before. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You pushed him only for him to shove you back against the door. He wasn’t smiling anymore. He was examining you carefully, his brow furrowed. It wasn’t a judgmental look so much as a contemplative one.

“When you’ve been manic, have you ever had any hallucinations?” he asked.

“What?” you asked. “No. I don’t have full blown mania, I have hypomanic episodes. You know that. What does that have to do with anything?”

“I’ve read up on this,” he said, as if he was trying to level with you. “After I interviewed you, I did a bunch of research on bipolar disorder.”

Oh, I’m sure you did.

“And I read that if you’re having a really bad manic episode or if you’re sleep deprived, it’s possible for people with bipolar disorder to experience psychosis. Sometimes you don’t even have to be manic or sleep deprived to have hallucinations or delusions.”

Oh my god.

You let out a humorless laugh. “Are you serious with this right now? Are you hearing yourself? You’re really trying to tell me that what I just saw was all in my head?”

“Baby, please just listen t—”

“I thought you were disgusting, but this is fucking vile,” you snapped.

“Come on. It’s me! You know me. Do you seriously think I’m some kind of creep? Do you seriously think I would hurt you, or violate your privacy like that?”

“I know what I saw!”

“Have I ever once made you feel unsafe?”

“YES!” you yelled. “You’re making me feel unsafe right now!”

“Just LISTEN to me!” he yelled, shoving you against the door once again.

You almost screamed when you heard it. A separate voice was yelling in unison with Eddie’s; a louder, deeper, distorted voice. An otherworldly voice. It conjured up an image in your mind of that thing you saw in your nightmare—tangling its way along the walls, tilting its head at you, roaring so loud that it startled you awake.

Maybe you were hallucinating.

“No!” you yelled, pushing him as hard as you could. You ran down the hallway and he followed, grabbing you from behind. You hit and kicked at him, escaping his grasp every few seconds before being trapped once again. You were stumbling and clawing at one another as you moved closer and closer to his bedroom door. “You want to prove this is a hallucination? Let me see your room!”

“Wait!” Eddie yelled, blocking you from elbowing him in the nose. “Nonono, wait. Hold on. We’re not going to my room. I’m not going to entertain this delusion. Okay? You shouldn’t have gone into my room in the first place. Are you listening to me? If you’re having a psychotic break right now, you shouldn’t—”

You kicked him in the stomach as forcefully as you could, catapulting yourself onto the bedroom floor. You landed hard, but you couldn’t focus on the pain in your elbows. All you could see was the window in front of you. It was wide open. You could have sworn that it was closed when you first entered the room. Most alarming, though, was the inky black shadow crawling its way from the corner of the wall, out of the window. Your breath hitched in your throat.

“Wh…what…?”

When you turned your head to look at the bulletin board, there was nothing pinned to it. No photos. Not a single one. Even the desk was free of clutter. No papers, no headphones, no paintbrushes, no sketchbook. The only remaining item of yours were those prints he had purchased, propped up along the wall just as they had been a few minutes ago.

You sat in stunned silence.

Eddie caught his breath, curled up in a ball just outside the doorway. He was cradling his stomach, looking just as stunned as you were. He didn’t make a single move towards you. “Are you seeing anything right now?” he asked breathlessly.

“I…”

You had never cried so hard in your life.

🕷

“I don’t understand. I’ve never experienced psychosis before.”

You were lying on Eddie’s couch with wet hair and puffy eyes. You had asked if you could shower at his apartment to try and calm down, and he was polite enough to let you. He even sat outside the door to make sure you didn’t fall, and offered you one of his t-shirts and a pair of sleep shorts when you got out.

You really didn’t deserve his kindness.

You were lying against his chest, your hands lightly gripping onto his flannel. He had one arm wrapped around your torso while the other lazily played with your hair and massaged your scalp. You were still shaking pretty badly, but his warmth was helping to soothe you.

“Didn’t you switch medications recently?” he asked.

“Yeah. Do you think that could have caused it?”

“I don’t know. Do you?”

“Maybe. I had a weird feeling about it. It was making me really paranoid.”

You were both quiet for a few minutes as Halloween provided the space with background noise. Eddie had asked you if you wanted to turn on something more lighthearted considering the circumstances, but you refused. There was something about horror movies that made you feel safe—like those things were just fiction, the product of a writer’s imagination. Those things weren’t happening now, and they would never happen to you.

The silence between you took your mind to some dark places. You felt absolutely mortified that you had put Eddie through whatever the hell that was. He had been nothing but kind to you and this was how you repaid him?

“You must think I’m insane,” you mumbled, burying your face in his chest.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “No. I would never think that. You’re a lot of things. Insane isn’t one of them.”

“It was like I was hearing two voices at once,” you said, your stomach twisting. “Your voice, and this…other one. It didn’t sound human. I’ve never heard anything like that before.”

He wrapped both arms around you, burying his chin into the crook of your neck.

“Tomorrow morning I think you should call your psychiatrist,” he said.

“It’s a Saturday. They’re not open,” you said matter-of-factly.

“Well,” he chuckled. “I think you should call and leave a message.”

“I definitely don’t want another issue like this one. I’m just so tired of all the trial and error. It’s been such a long road for me with this.”

As the credits rolled, you turned and looked up at him. You were about to ask if he was up for Halloween 2, but when you saw the look on his face, you decided against it. He looked a little irritated. How could he not be? You had just accused him of being a stalker and gotten into a full-blown physical altercation.

“Do you want me to go?” you asked. “I can go.”

“No,” he said. “No, I don’t want you to go. I really, really don’t. It’s just…do you ever feel like your life is one monumental screwup?”

“Um. What?” you asked.

“It’s just…it upsets me a little bit, y’know? This is in no way your fault, and I know you couldn’t help it. Hallucinations can be really vivid. But it’s damaging to know that you would think so badly of me to immediately conclude I would hurt you like that.”

Your heart sunk as he continued working his fingers through your scalp.

“Eddie, I don’t think badly of you.”

“Yeah?” he asked, giving your hair a light tug. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“That’s not fair. If you could see what I saw…it looked so real. It was all there when I first walked into your room, I’m telling you. And then it was gone, just like that.”

“What did you see when you were in there?” he asked.

“Pretty much what I told you. Some stuff that had gone missing from my apartment, pictures of me all over the place. It looked like some twisted shrine or something. It was really terrifying. If you saw a shrine of yourself in my room, wouldn’t you be scared, too?”

“Like what, if you were stalking me, you mean?”

You nodded.

“Hah. Well…I can’t say I would be too upset about that.”

“Stop,” you chuckled.

“Kidding, kidding,” he said. “I’m being an idiot. I’m sorry. I don’t expect any kind of apology from you or anything. That wasn’t your fault and you were just as scared as I was. It’s just that all this time I feel like you’ve gotten the chance to see me for what I am, you know? The actual me. Not this horrible person that everybody seems to think I am. It’s been so rare for me to find people that are truly willing to get to know me, and things had been going so well with you. I didn’t want that to change. I’ve been terrified that I’m going to mess it up somehow, and it hurts that, even for a split second, you saw me just like everybody else in my life does.

“This is going to sound awful, and maybe it’s an ego thing, but I kind of…I don’t want you to look up to me, that’s not what I’m trying to say. But I do want you to know that you can trust me. Like, I want to be the one that you call when you need something. Or even just for no reason at all. I want you to feel like you can call me whenever you want.”

“If I called you whenever I wanted, you would probably block my number,” you said.

“No, I definitely wouldn’t,” he laughed, smiling softly. “I just want you to feel safe with me, that’s all. And I want to help you figure this medication thing out.”

You sighed. “I just want to be normal. I’m so tired of this, Eddie.”

“I know. And I know you can do it on your own, but you don’t have to. I don’t want you to go through any of this alone anymore.”

You had a sinking feeling that Eddie didn’t know what he was signing up for. You already felt terrible about what had happened tonight. You weren’t sure if you or he could handle any even remotely similar reoccurrences.

“Eddie—”

“No, I mean it. As long as you want me around, I’m not going anywhere.”

A state of calm overtook you as Eddie shut the tv off. In spite of all that happened, you were overcome with a sense of ease and weightlessness you hadn’t experienced in years. He was just so warm, and he made you feel accepted in the wake of your most embarrassing moment. You were just about to drift off to sleep when your eyes snapped open.

You had never told Eddie that you switched medications.

🕷

shoutout to all my fellow bipolar girlies lol <3 love u, stay safe <3

#yandere marvel #yandere eddie brock x reader #eddie brock x reader #dark!eddie brock #yandere eddie brock

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jacevelaryonswife · 2 years

Text

I’m not your steppin’ stone

Just like the Disney tales, your love story with Jace started in a drinking contest when you almost threw up on him.

pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem!Reader — Aegon’s participation.

a/n: Since I became obsessed with modern!hotd guys I thought I'd write this. Originally it would be called “I'm not your steppin' stong” because the monkees song, but I didn't think it would match. This is would be a short series (I think 💀)

warnings: alcohol and drugs consumption, curse words, fluffy and humor. +18.

“Hi, I’m Jace, but I know you know that.” He held out his hand towards you with a wide smile on his face.

“Hi Jace.” Taking his hand with a sideways smile, you said your name before repeating his earlier sentence. “But I know you know that.”

Alcohol was a funny thing. Normally Jace wasn't afraid to approach girls, he was handsome, confident and kind, but there was so much about you that intimidated him. Your posture, your beauty, your intelligence… all based on opinions taken 10 minutes ago — when you first met. Again, alcohol was a funny thing as any inhibitions that would have him not reaching out to you were completely broken when he took three shots of vodka (who had that shitty idea?). Despite your presence, your friends looked at him curiously as he approached.

You thought he was cute with his flushed cheeks, bright eyes and sweet smile, and the curls that fell over his shoulder. He was handsome and made you smile open like a teenager. Before everything starts to blur.

Oh no.

“You've probably heard this but you're so pretty and smart you'll finish college at 21 that's wow I wish I was your friend or boyf-“

Somewhere between Jade's incredibly quick words (was his name Jade?) your head turned strong and the growing sensation in your stomach made you take a few steps back.

“Ouh, I think I’m going to throw up.”

Jace stopped talking abruptly, expression mildly shocked and hurt by your rudeness. “Oh… I'm sorry if I was intrusive but if you didn't feel like me there was no need to be rude.”

"Dude, I think she's being literal." A voice behind you says, you think it’s your bestfriend Rylie. “WHERE IS THE FUCKING BATHROOM?”

"Fuck." You murmured, being dragged by him to the other room. The burning in your stomach and throat being too unbearable not to give in.

Your perception didn't catch Jace coming up behind you two or the "Oh fuck fuck fuck" he said when he understood the situation. He preempted opening the bathroom door and turning on the light, lifting the toilet seat for you. (He’s a fucking gentleman).

It was one of the most humiliating things you've ever been through in public. Lucky for you, you didn't know those people and you wouldn't see them again (most of them). The only thing you could say with propriety after being picked up by Jace and cleaned up by Rylie was:

"Don't let Aegon know about this."

The rest of the night was a blurry mess on the way home.

However, it wasn't your intention to get drunk at a major college frat party — the reason was entirely self-explanatory. However, when Cregan, your friend Sara's idiot brother, bet $50 that he could beat anyone in a drinking contest a small, sudden urge to challenge him sparked in you. A small, almost unnoticed urge. You ignored it and went back to paying attention to your friends' conversation, but another idiot named Blah Blah (you didn't remember his name) raised the bet to 100 dollars and decided that vodka would be the drink. Interesting.

"You go? It would be awesome to see Cregan's face when he loses." Sara suggested, enjoying the thought.

“Getting drunk at a frat party? No fucking way.” You replied, dismissing the idea quickly.

Although. The main factor was yet to come.

The Idiot Master and leader of the frat: Aegon.

“100? You are so cute. I bet 150 on whoever beats me.” He took $50 out of his wallet and dropped it into the glass in the center of the table. “Ladies.”

Ok, that was really attractive. Your friends practically yelled at you to go, saying they would have your back and not leave your side when (and if) you won. "We're not going to let any idiot take advantage of you." Rylie assured. The encouragement was almost suffocating, making you give in.

As you approached the edge of the round table, looking curiously into the glass and leaving twenty dollars, Aegon smiled at the sight. “Only this love, have so little faith in you?” He teased with a side smile, receiving your response in the same tone when you rested your hands on the table and tilted your head:

"I don't want to humiliate you when I win."The guys' screams almost had you rolling your eyes in amusement, keeping your gaze fixed on the blonde in front of you.

"And that's how we start the fucking drinking contest!" He yelled excitedly.

Soon, other participants began to arrive around the table, adding up to a total of six. Aegon invited his younger brother Aemond, who just declined with a "Fuck no." Blah Blah abstained from the dispute and remained as judge of the competition. A girl named Baela and a dude named Criston got together, making Aegon smile. Finally, there he was, with animated puppy eyes. His name was Jace and from what the blonde bitch said, he didn't have much resistance when it came to alcohol, but he would participate for fun. Apparently everyone at the table knew each other with exection to you.

For a short time.

Blah Blah boy took advantage of the situation to suggest a dynamic between the participants. The six will be in front of a person at the table, with whom they will share the glasses, during the competition those involved can ask and provoke each other, however, interactions can only last 10 seconds and only the person with the bottle can ask.

He was almost a genius.

Sorting out the participants, Aegon was ahead of Cregan — a little irritated that he wasn't directly competing with you, who was paired with his nephew Jace, while Criston and Baela were facing each other.

“I think you’re making it easy for her.” Kicking off the provocations before the competition, the Targaryen told Blah Blah: “Jace will clearly be the first eliminated, he's a good boy."

"Probably." The guy in front of you nodded in amusement before his eyes fell directly on you, surprised by your next attitude.

“I like good boys.” You smile was sideways and seductive, looking from Aegon to Jace. If they wanted to play, you're game.

Oh fuck.

“Then you should be against me, love.” The blonde snapped, returning the same smile to you. Before a smart answer could come out of your mouth, Jace anticipated him by fucking his uncle.

His eyes were fully on yours as he pointed with his thumb at the older boy. “I wouldn't recommend it unless you want to get oral herpes.”

Your companions and you genuinely laughed at the expense of Aegon, who was totally in the game. He was a little shit, but so was Jace in his response. You liked it. After Aegon told him to fuck off, Blah Blah began the contest. Fun fact: you hated vodka.

Aegon was the first to pour himself and tip the glass, trying to ease the grimace. "Ok princess, what's your name?"

You replied calmingly, not wanting to drop the subject. Not because of him, but being among unknown people who knew each other was a little uncomfortable. “And yours, princess?” Your tone was playful, mimicking him.

The confused expression on the older Targaryen's face was definitely not the "princess", but the fact that you didn't know him. This made Cregan smile outright before tipping his glass and saying, "This is going to be fun."

Taking the bottle from his friend's hand, Jace — who was totally interested in knowing about you — filled the glass and made a complete face as he drank the vodka. You didn't spare the little smile at his reaction, which encouraged him to ask:

"What course do you study? Are you a freshman?”

Usually frat parties attracted the same group of people, but not everyone was there out of habit. Jace didn't usually go to all the parties, and he was pretty sure you didn't either. He didn't know why, he just felt it.

“I'm a senior undergraduate in agronomy, I'm almost finishing actually.” You answered.

“Uh, what-what does a professional in your field do?”

It was a common question for you, but very difficult to answer in less than 10 seconds (that's what you said to the Velaryon boy before Blah Blah ended the interactions time). It was your round, and as you didn't intend to embarrass yourself in front of the guys and girl, you calmly poured the vodka into the glass and drank it as if you were drinking water, no grimaces showing. How you hated vodka.

Sending Aegon a knowing look before the others could smirk at your attitude, you glanced at the guy on your right, Criston. "You really don't seem to attend frat parties." He looked mature and older than the other guys and girls, which caught your attention. You didn't want to be around a possible perv who only dates freshman girls.

“I don't actually attend, I'm grad student and I just wanted to see how the guys are doing.” He replied in a soft voice.

Ahh.

Passing the bottle to the girl with white hair and the almost mischievous smile who drank it quickly, with a brief grimace. “So Aeg, what's it like not to be recognized by a girl?”

The entire table shared her mood, smiling again at the blonde's expense.

“It is really devastating. I feel like a part of my heart has been stabbed by forgetfulness.” He scoffed in a serious tone, causing Aemond to huff as he walked past to grab something from the fridge. “Criston.” He pointed at the guy next to him. “Do the honors.”

With a grimace similar to Baela's, Criston drank and was calm in picking up the bottle and drinking the vodka, passing it to Aegon. “You’re a jerk.” He said.

“Why is everyone attacking me? Just because I'm going to win?" The Targaryen complained smugly, filling the small glass to the brim. “Agronomy girl, how old are you?”

“20.”

“What? And you are already finishing?” Jace asked out of turn, genuinely surprised.

“I will end up with twen-.” At the same moment you answered. Blah Blah interrupted the interaction.

"Dude, you can't talk when you don't have the bottle!”

“Sorry. What? Why not? You said whoever has the bottle can ask, but you didn't limit who can answer.” Jace complained, feeling warm from the drink.

“I… Okay, new rule: anyone not mentioned can't speak!”

“What if I want to mention someone outside of the conversation, can that person speak up?”

When I said that Blah Blah was almost a genius, I was exaggerating. You could really see the effort he was making to think, deciding that yes, fuck it, you can talk.

"So Jace, I'm going to end up with 21 actually." Your answer was not interrupted this time.

“How?”

“TIME IS OVER, NEXT!”

Jace was actually the first to leave the competition, with only three shots of vodka. He was red and hot, his head already started to spin a little. It was totally fun actually and he was totally into you. Damn it, you were savage and seductive, but also smooth. The alcohol was probably clouding his judgment, but he knew he needed your number. That's why even after self-eliminating, the Elder Velaryon continued around.

As the rounds went by, he got bolder and gradually got behind you. Normally he wouldn't dare so much (what the fuck was in that vodka?) but he knew there was a possibility that Aegon might try something on you, so his hand landed on your back as he whispered into your hair, close to your ear: “Defeat his ass, princess.”

You felt that. Turning to face him with a naughty smile and whispering on his lips: “Your request is an order.”

Oh fuck. He totally felt that too.

When the urge to pee and sit momentarily was too much to support, Jace went to the bathroom and spent a short time there, laughing about how funny the light was (maybe he shouldn't have tried marijuana before either).

At the end of the competition when Cregan was defeated, only Aegon and you were left at the table. Your badass posture had already been shaken and when you took the seventh shot it was hard to disguise the bitter grimace because of the ardor in your stomach and throat. Okay, maybe you were praying he would fold because you sure as hell couldn't take two more shots. If this worked? Aegon turned to vomit into the sink behind him. Holy fuck.

“Fuck, you're tough.” He admitted as he turned back to face you. “I fucking give up.” He almost laughed when he put his hands on the table and you swear you heard the screams of your friends and other people. A smile radiated across your face as you let yourself relax and take the money from the center of the table.

"Thanks love." You imitated him previously, clearly affected by alcohol. Your friends arrived behind you, where they never fully left.

He chuckled at your tone, nearly leaning across the table. "I'll bet you $50 that you'll be throwing up by the end of the night."

"I doubt it."

And here you were, held to your feet by Rylie and Jace as you slipped out of the bathroom. After Blah Blah yelled that you were his cool new friend, you left the party carried by your friends and the handsome brunette looking at you with worried eyes. "I'm fine." You assured, smiling drunk and happy.

“Can you let me know when you get home? To find out if she's okay." Jace asked your friend, grabbing his Instagram before watching him go. He wasn't proud of searching your account for your friend's, but fuck it, you only live once. And he sure wanted to see you again.

#jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon #harry collett #modern headcanons #jacaerys velaryon x reader #modern!jacaerys #modern jace #modern hotd #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii #aegon targaryen

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the-firebird69 · 4 months

Text

There's some chuckling at sunsets what you're doing here doesn't do that much when I'm doing up there stop some cold and she says okay they're interrelated it is no we're going to stop whoever it is cold and she smiles and says right but it's true

-there are a lot of things happening this is a grabby place they tend to grab people we're going to pull them off our son they're too close what they're doing all day long is ridiculous s*** and they've got to pay for it

-there's a huge thing going on around Florida the Mac morlock are losing their positions tons of them even Mayors and they're losing assistant mayor judgeships cops all over Florida they're being kicked out now and the pseudo empire is taking over they're really going to be pissed off they already are about the eastern hemisphere and start applying a lot of pressure here and they're moving in and the rings are being fortified and they're going to grab people and force people out tonight they might go in the rings they have 20 households interested out of the 120 and they have one or two people in the house and they lost spouses they were walking around our son in a daydream

-so there are a lot of people yesterday are upset he says what am I the man on the mountain if you want a dollar give me a dollar I'll give you a dollar and they'd laugh they start to think about it it's kind of bothering him

-but really this is going on today a lot of them are getting injured and hurt and soon gone we're going to blow by these people in a few minutes with anger and hatred for what they're doing here now and they deserve it

-there does not seem to be an invasion Force coming but there is and they plan for tonight and it's not huge but they want to try and break in through kidnap people including our son and we are going after them and the people here working with them it's a big operation and there's a lot of people involved operation and Tommy f is being sought to that started to heat up by the way they're not letting us their ships in and they're demanding it up north and they want the one off Alabama gone and he's saying no it's all over the world there's about 50 ships and they want 25 out there or on their areas and they're writing them letters and you send them back no on the letter and it's going to be it's going to come down to blows and pretty soon too other things are happening they're very big they're happening right now

-there are huge huge giants coming out shortly and out all over the world we called out where this one's nearby this one's above and this huge numbers of them that are going to be pouring out as tons of people going there now to try and get power it's a huge effort by them I have a try different methods it's not straightforward and there are more troops gathering we think maybe one or two percent of the general population tonight in the Western hemisphere after these Giants and there's some massive ones that are going to be risen real soon is there a tunnels that are leading into their areas and they are being filled up by crabs and stuff that are going down the tunnels. And down the tunnels they go they're only like 50 miles long and the crabs are in the water the whole way and a lot of them are like half mile so it's it's a kind of a hall it's like walking 5 miles but they go and they're entering the chambers and they get sucked down huge numbers today of crabs millions all of them about 1/8 to over mile to 2 mi I equate to these tunnels and they see the others going in so they go in and it's fascinatingly horrifying that they're so dumb you feel the suction and they start moving faster and huge numbers are going in now all over the world now yes and especially over at Morocco. It is me focus number that are pouring in there a giant number and they are all going to die very soon and that's the crabs. And because of this it's attracting people and they're all planning on going we think that this round just not a massive numbers of crabs are going to go there it's going to cut the crab for us in half literally that's how many it will be over the crabs are going to the weaker and tomorrow they'll probably start going in again it's quite the affair.

-additionally of the people that don't understand how things work and they're trying to steal this and getting beat up and forcing the pseudo empire here never told not to and are doing it with good sized forces and they're gearing up for tonight and a lot of things trying to take the ships it's going to be a huge day a huge night today additionally there are about 50,000 of them that are going to head north all the way to Georgia and I'll be a different ways but to find out the status it's a revolutionary war thing but they're fighting the student empire more and that was happening in the war too all these skirmishes in the cities where these two idiots and the big war was the pseudo empire and the warlock and both of them so it's asinine and we hate him and it's going on shortly it'll be seen as all being losers and it's going to start pretty soon there is an effort now to go after John remillard as he is stuck to our son with the big f**** to use here he is again cuz he's not in court he's here and he only has a few days before Tuesday 5 days and they will have closing arguments then the jury will deliver it and he will probably begin going after the jury today that he said he was going to do and they're prepping to defend and against groups of people all over the place and he's going to decimate himself here and in many other places five days in New York could be the whole revolutionary war up to 76 and the court will not be the declaration bja is not the judge but after the court cases decided or during it they probably will issue approximation to him and it will piss them off quite a bit

-giant armies are prepping now for defense against the Western hemisphere pseudo empire bunkers bases laser bases areas of interest or their areas and mixed areas they are trying to bring in ships and have fun only a few make a big difference every morning we plan on wiping them out over and over the numbers of Macklemore lock have dropped

-it is down to about 3.3% Trump and 6.5% bja and he said that seems like it's going up to 9.8%, but no it's down from 11.5% of 2 weeks ago and they're just moving so that doesn't count and the trumps we're moving to the island but now they're getting decimated is a huge huge problem I said and huge numbers of them on New Zealand pretty soon catastrophic but really that is a low percentage for them to have and they are not doing well pretty soon they're going to be out.

-we're working on several projects we have acquired businesses so we're going to post and talk about the businesses

Thor Freya

Olympus

We have a lot to talk about that he's uncomfortable and will have to head home so we want to address some major points and he's got to move

Hera

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gapinghole4u · 2 years

Text

#dirtyjockbro,

This picture is of my bf and sorry to say he is completely straight. These pictures that they are using is just being reblogged over and over. Out of respect please do NOT talk to ANYONE using this picture, they also use it for 37 other websites 7 different names on here alone!! and we have small kids and we do NOT want them to ever come across this. The sites are mostly gay but a lot for women sites too. If anyone using this picture to talk to you RUN FAST and RUN HARD its a pure overseas crypto scam.Does he have a German accent by chance because they are 6 hours ahead of EST and Germany is exactly 6 hours difference. Id also be interested if any other pics were shown to you. It is untraceable and they Ive been trying to write you since you wrote me but I cannot write you since your blog is missing. If you want to talk and compare notes hmu using Whats App or email, lmk which you prefer and is easier. Hope you have a very Happy New Year! Im so sorry if they hot your emotional heartstrings, they are truly professionals. Make you pay 5k for a plane ticket, go online and for 5(!!!!!!) dollars you can make a fake flight schedule to show you that they are on their way with 3or4 layovers. The flights are real, the flight numbers are real and you will be ghosted and humiliated at the airport. DONT DO IT!!!!!!!!

This is a stolen picture from social media so PLEASE stop sharing it.,anyone reaching out with this picture, they are PURE scammers. Its a crypto bitcoin scam(untraceable) DO NOT ENGAGE WITH ANY OF THESE ACCOUNTS the people are overseas and will even do a video showing him so you will trust them, however there is no audio(bad connection) and its like 8 seconds,Videos with no audio are REALLY easy to fake. Unless you engaged in a real conversation with this guy on video chat, then go for it however whoever you start texting is 5 hours ahead and when emails start they are 6 hours ahead. Ive seen one bitcoin wallet where this enterprise has 50 million in bitcoin from all their successful scams. They are the most disgusting people on Earth. I hope they all get what's coming.

#Dirtyjockbro

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thoughts-on-bangtan · 3 years

Note

Hi! I hope you’ll answer this question bc it bothers me quite a lot.. https://www.quora.com/What-does-it-mean-now-that-BTS-are-partial-owners-of-Big-Hit-Entertainment do you think it is true what the second person (Christine Herman) said? After reading this, i started to wonder…what if BTS does really have only profit in mind while doing new projects these days? Maybe they don’t really care anymore about creative and meaningful lyrics and sound? With Butter and PTD…all this generic music sung in English. Of course they say “we wanted to make fans feel good”, “butter and ptd represent who we are” and all these things fans want to hear but.. do you really think it’s true? moreover, don’t get me wrong, i don’t find product placement in their reality shows as something terrible, i believe this is a normal thing, however, nowadays the members really film ads and do marketing a lot. so yeah, for some reason i began to question their integrity dhsjjss i hope you will understand from where my concerns come from and won’t find this ask stupid sjdjjdjd

After reading that persons answer I can immediately tell you that I basically don't agree with an overwhelming majority of what she said (even more so since a lot of it just makes her sound like a manti that hates the company and basically would want them to make music for free or something). Generally I don’t agree with most of the opinions this person holds, and also Quora really isn’t a good source for info or good opinions, most of it is written by mantis, haters, and toxic shippers with an agenda so most ARMY will tell you to stay as far away from that website as possible.

Anyway, her focus in that answer was on money, since BTS are shareholders (and how that’s a conflict of interest despite other artists doing the exact thing but no one really cares or ever thinks about it), but what she failed to consider and note was that Big Hit Music, so BTS' label, isn't part of HYBE in the sense that shareholding has no baring on it since BHM is private. So while BTS profit off of HYBE doing well, and have a small percentage of a voice as shareholders, that has nothing to do with BHM in the classical sense, even if BHM's earnings reflect well on HYBE numbers and the shareholder money.

BHM was made private to ensure their artistry would remain untouched, that was the whole point of that.

Even if they weren't HYBE shareholders, take Namjoon as example. He has more than 170 KOMCA credits, is among the top 3 Korean artists with the most credits and is also the youngest of them all. It is said that his earnings from that alone can sustain his family for 3 generations over. Look at Hobi and Chicken Noodle Soup, that song was a hit and he paid the original creator of that song 2 million dollars upfront and earned a lot back due to how successful it was. Same goes for Hope World which, again, was and is still immensely successful. Look at Yoongi and his work both as prod. SUGA, featuring artist SUGA, and as Agust D, as well as the credits he holds for his work on BTS songs (giving him as well a total of over 100 KOMCA credits, just like Hobi). Bangtan have worked and continue to work extremely hard for their music, put their heart and souls into it, and it shows even if their style changed as they grew older and more mature.

Yes, money is a major motivator, but looking at the above paragraph, do you really peg the members as these corrupt money hungry sellouts with no music related integrity? Who would need to sign major deals and would throw away their passion to just release empty shells of music for the sole reason of money? Am I naive enough to believe that they don't care about money? Of course not, we live in a capitalist society and even if BTS wouldn't care about money anymore at this point, HYBE very much does, and yet still I can't find it in me to agree with any of what was said in that answer that person wrote.

More below the cut:

And that point about how Hyundai cars were sold out because of BTS, isn't that the point why literally any company ever hires celebrities to advertise and endorse their product? And sure, again, I'm certain they earned a lot on these deals, they aren't the first or last or only ones in the history of ever to do so. Besides, look at JK and what he's done for small companies, or Tae who wore a brooch made my a small creator at the airport which catapulted that creator into the eyes of millions of ARMYs enough so that they could move to a proper studio and earn money with their work. Or the modern hanboks JK wore which led to the brand being able to move into actual stores in malls because of their sudden new popularity and demand. Or him wearing a bracelet that helps whales with a percentage of the money from the sales of said bracelet. And for all of that JK and Tae didn't earn any money at all. JK himself said that he's more conscious of the brand he wears now because he wants to help smaller businesses in these trying times, not because they pay him to do so (especially since they would never be able to afford that), but because he's aware of the influence he has and how he can use it to help others. Sound very much like a capitalistic villain, right?

As for the product placement bit, have you been on YouTube recently? Have you noticed that many, if not most, YouTube videos by “bigger” creators (and by that I mean even people who are around the 100k subscriber mark) begin with them thanking whoever sponsored that particular video and give you a scripted minute to two minute long ad before getting into the actual topic of the video? And In The SOOP featuring Chilsung Cider, FILA clothes and the random mention of how good Samsung phones are isn’t much different from it, though really, if you’re not someone interested in fashion much, would you really notice or care that they wore FILA? It’s just...clothes? If it weren’t a BTS related show, would you even notice it much? And it’s not even like they mentioned those brands every five minutes or anything, just a few times, which sure sounded a bit out of place at times, but personally I thought it was easy to look past. That’s just how things work nowadays and it’s odd for people to behave like somehow BTS are the first and only ones to use product placements despite literally every movie and show doing it in subtle and less so manners.

The answer by that person you sent also mentioned the Hyundai song for their car IONIQ and, unsurprisingly, that person wrote it off as just some commercial jingle but I’d actually disagree with that. Not to sound like a Hyundai and Samsung stan, which I am neither of, but I actually think those two knew best how to utilize the artist they have spent millions on signing a deal with. Hyundai didn’t just write them off as pretty faces with a millions strong fan army behind them and that’s it, they remembered that they are musicians so they gave them a song and made a whole music video for it as well. And say what you will, it is a good song. Then, just a few days ago, Samsung stepped up their game and we were given Over The Horizon Prod by SUGA of BTS. For those who aren’t Samsung users, Over The Horizon is their signature ringtone and basically their company sound, and over the years different artists were asked to make their own version of it. And this time they reached out to Yoongi and asked if he’d like to do it as well. It’s kind of a big deal. Sure, Butter is used in one of their commercials much the way Dynamite was last year, but that’s beside the point. Would that person make the same claim about Imagine Dragons whose song Believer is also part of the ads for the new Samsung phones? I have my doubts.

Furthermore, and I don't want this to come across as mean toward you but, I think it is uncalled for to question their artistic integrity based on a total of 3 (three) English songs when last year alone we received 50+ songs, most of which were in Korean, among them the entirety of BE which was, according to the members, the album they were most involved in ever when it comes to both music and everything around it.

You can dislike their English songs, that’s more than fine, they have a very extensive discography you can listen to instead, but questioning their integrity based on them doing something that most, if not every, artist on their level does (as in sign ad deals with brands etc) is a bit much if you ask me. Does that mean indie artists whose songs get picked up for commercials (or for Netflix shows or movies) and thus it catapults them into the mainstream are also just money hungry people with no integrity and ones who don’t care about their music? Or is that, again, just a standard Bangtan is held to (as in that their integrity is questioned based on everything, even the most trivial/normal things) that only applies to them and no one else?

In the recent Weverse Magazine article about how Permission to Dance came to be there is a lot of talk about not only that song but also Butter and Dynamite, among the things being discussed and talked about they mentioned how the original lyrics for Butter were much more materialistic but that the members didn't like that so they asked for that to be changed. Likewise the original lyrics for Permission to Dance, as you'd expect from the penmanship of Ed Sheeran, were much more romantic, almost proposal like, which wasn't what the members wanted either so it was, again, adjusted in a way that would fit what they, as well as the A&R team, wanted. While you may not like these songs, they still had a say in them to a certain degree, could say yes or no and ask for adjustments. Why else would PTD take eight months?

While they might outsource their English songs, their main focus, so their Korean (as well as Japanese) discography is still centered around them, their lyrics, their songs, their sound. Of course you’ll also find outside producers and some lyricists on those as well, because that’s how music works these days, as in collaboratively, that doesn’t change anything at large. Their integrity is still very much there, their hearts are still in it, what other reason would any of them have to say that they want to continue for a long time, for Yoongi to say they want to figure out how to make their career last as long as possible, for JK to say that he wants to sing forever?

Admin 2 also wanted me to add that in their opinion, to a certain degree (though not fully of course), their English songs are like a way to laugh at and expose how shallow the English-centric music industry is. As in, while they made music in Korean with deep and meaningful lyrics, the US industry didn’t care but once they switched to easy to listen to sound with easy to understand English lyrics, they suddenly paid attention, are played on the radio, and even received a Grammy nomination which they wouldn’t have gotten for a Korean song ( A1: regardless how much Black Swan or Spring Day really would’ve deserved it...).

#answered ask #BTS #hybe entertainment

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meltwonu · 4 years

Text

| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 | [CHAPTER 5]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; camshow, use of toys(sybian), squirting, the long awaited chapter 5 😳💕 do they finally meet?!?!?!?! hehehehehehe also sorry for not being able to post this yesterday, had a busy week and when I tell ya I woke up at 3pm today 😗 💕💕💕💕 as always, thank you so much for your continued interest!! I'm already writing ch 6 and im SOOOO EXCITEDDDD hHEHEHEHEEHEH 💕💕💕💕💕 HAVE A GREAT REST OF YOUR WEEKENDS! 🍒

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - ?

“You guys! I--you have to see this!”

You can’t wipe the smile off of your face when you shimmy to the side, excitedly showing off the new gift that Seungcheol had sent in the mail.

sleepy_wonu: holy hell

universe_WZ: that mustve costed hella

alphagyu97: nothin like feelin extra poor amirite lads

angelhan: it was only a matter of time before dom.cheol was untouchable lol

You giggle slightly as you adjust the camera so that you and your new sybian are in frame. “Hey~ Don’t say that!! Y’know it’s not the amount of money you spend on me… I’m glad you guys are always here with me~” The sound of coins clinking goes off in the back as you read a few more comments.

dom.cheol: well princess, don’t u wanna show them how you use your new toy? ;)

tangerine_kwan: fuck i bet it can get u to cum so fuckin fast

hoshi_tiger_xx: yessss

dom.cheol has donated $100

hoshi_tiger_xx has donated $50

“Hmm~ How many times do you think I can cum with this? Oh! Why don’t we do this~” You pause, sliding your wet panties down your legs before tossing the material to the side. You grin, swinging a leg over the toy until you’re straddling it. “Rapid fire question! Whoever guesses the right amount of orgasms I can take before I call quits… Wins a special unreleased photoset of me! Go!”

dom.cheol: 5

universe_WZ: 4

sleepy_wonu: 6

angelhan: 3 artist8hao: 5

alphagyu97: everyone took all the good numbers already!!! 7!!!!!

gentleman_josh95: DMAN IT 3

tangerine_kwan: 8, fuck

kitty_junjun: ugh i was gonna say 4!!!!

xcaliburDK: i was gonna say 5!!!!

therealchan99: 2? thats so low tho….

chwenon: as if anyone is gonna say 1, lmao. Uh 6…. If sleepy_wonu happens to disappear

hoshi_tiger_xx: im gonna say 10, but… seems… risky

Reaching for the remote, you situate yourself until the raised part of the toy sits directly on your clit. A shiver runs up your spine at the feeling; already excited for what’s in store. “Um, to be fair I haven’t tried it myself yet so I’m not sure either... Hehe, but I guess we’ll find out together, huh?”

Gulping, you set the sybian to its lowest setting, the air getting knocked out of your lungs immediately as your body lurches forward. “H--holy shit!” The vibrations are already harsh on the lowest setting; your fingers gripping the remote tightly as you try to adjust to the feeling. “O--oh my g-god, I--”

dom.cheol: aww can ur cute lil clit take it?

xcaliburDK: maybe one of the lower numbers was right lol…

The moans spill freely from your lips, garbled noises getting lost in the mix when you start to grind against the vibration. “Fuck, it--it feels suh--so good, hah, already feel like ‘m gonna cum…” You whine, already getting lost in the pleasure. For a second, you’re tempted to raise the vibration intensity but you hold back, letting your wetness coat the toy as you continue to grind down onto it. The sound of donations and comments sound fuzzy to your ears; only the sound of the sybian buzzing reminding you that the camera was still even on.

“Ngh, g-god, I’m--I’m gonna cum!”

tangerine_kwan has donated $75

xcaliburDK has donated $50

dom.cheol has donated $200

dom.cheol: cmon, lets see that pretty pussy cum

Your legs shake as you cum, only a squeak coming out of your mouth as you lurch forward atop the toy. The grip you have on the remote loosens while simultaneously trying to turn it off in the midst of your orgasm.

dom.cheol: awww cumming so hard on the first setting? Cute

therealchan99: lol baby is in trouble now

angelhan: maybe 3 was right lmao

“I--a-ah, fu--fuck!” You cry, shaky fingers finally managing to shut the toy off. Your body immediately untenses; chest heaving with how sensitive you already were and it had only been your first orgasm and the lowest setting of the toy. “O-oh my g-god, I--I didn’t know i-it was that s-strong…” You mumble, body buzzing with the remnants of your orgasm.

sleepy_wonu: well mr dom.cheol did pay top dollar

gentleman_josh95: imagine if u had this for yesterdays show lol

“Oh god, if--if I had this for yesterday’s show, I would’ve been too boneless to do today’s show!” You laugh airily, slowly grinding against the toy already. “It feels really nice though… I’m already super curious about how strong the other settings are…” Trailing off, you reach for the remote again, throat dry as you fiddle with the knob.

kitty_junjun: what if u set it to the max setting

chwenon: idk if her cute lil body could take it

dom.cheol: its okay baby, take ur time. I wanna see how sensitive that pussy of yours can get

“But ‘m already so sensitive~ I dunno how much more I can take~” You tease, biting your lip when all the comments flooding the chat are words of encouragement.

You knew when you started camming that it’d be no easy job. Building up your fanbase and subscriber count had taken you months upon months to even get within the thousands and camming was physically exhausting. Some days your viewer counts were low and some days they were above average and sometimes you didn’t make as much in one show than another.

tangerine_kwan: was therealchan99 right with 2 then? Heh

therealchan99: finally FINALLY ITS MY TIME TO SHINE

Giggling, you slowly start turning the knob; body twitching when the vibrations kick in at full force.

Seungcheol watches in amazement at the way your body jerks atop the machine.

He can see the way your legs twitch unbearably when you cum for the third time; your brows furrowed at the intensity of the vibrations and your taut body when you can barely manage to turn the machine off.

Licking his lips, he slowly thrusts up into his closed palm, spreading the precum down his shaft as he watches you catch your breath.

“I--ngh, fuh--fuck, I---I don’t--don’t know if I--I can cum a-again…”

Seungcheol moans at your breathy whimpers; the arousal in his body pooling up quickly when he sees the fucked out expression in your eyes. His eyes flit to the wetness that coats the silicone portion of the toy, smirking when he realizes how much you really seemed to enjoy the gift he’d gotten you.

Mentally patting himself on the back, he praises himself for making the right decision.

angelhan: please tlel me im the winner im begging

universe_WZ: NO

dom.cheol: is the princess tired already? ;)

You catch your breath, not wanting to give up despite how fuzzy your head was getting and how much your body was buzzing. “I dunno… We still haven’t tried the last setting, you guys… And I’m just so curious...” You whisper, hazy eyes staring into the camera.

hoshi_tiger_xx: god u look so pretty like this, all fucked out

artis8hao: right? fuck, id kill to be that guy who can get u off like this

xcaliburDK: goddamn same

The sound of coins clinking mixes with the ringing in your ears; fingertips already on the knob of the remote.

You take a deep breath, letting the adrenaline kick in as you quickly set the knob to the highest setting, a high pitched cry spilling from your lips when you let go of the remote in favor of holding onto the machine instead. Grinding down onto it, you meet the toy's harsh vibrations as it quickly forces another orgasm out of you in the matter of seconds.

Choked cries spill from your lips as your entire body tenses up; body twitching uncontrollably as you cum for the fourth time. You lean back with whatever energy you have left, bracing yourself on the back of the toy as you relieve your swollen clit of the buzzing machine. Your orgasm refuses to stop and you can already tell how obscenely wet everything’s gotten when your head starts to clear.

alphagyu97: fuck you squirted all over the toy baby

universe_WZ: fuck fucki fuck

universe_WZ: wait did i winf kjfhdsjk

You shakily slide off of the machine, resting on your side as the machine still buzzes with life next to you. Your entire body won’t stop shaking, head muddled as you fight the urge to shut your eyes and sleep for the next 5 days. “I’m--I--” You whimper, still feeling the phantom vibrations between your legs.

“I--ho--holy fuck, I, w-wow, I--I don’t--that--I’m, I’m just… wow.”

dom.cheol has donated $400

dom.cheol: knew you’d like it ;)

universe_WZ: THAT MEANS I WON

universe_WZ has donated $150

angelhan has donated $150

therealchan99: well, at least some of us got close

hoshi_tiger_xx: fuckin speak for urself man i said /10/

You end the show after letting ‘universe_WZ’ know you’ll contact him soon, shutting your eyes as you lay on your soiled sheets.

You can still feel your fingertips twitching when your eyes slide shut, chest heaving in deep breaths as you try to relax yourself, momentarily cursing yourself for pushing your body too far for tonight’s show.

Groaning, you reach for your phone, the screen lighting up with a text from Seungcheol, a simple ‘don’t forget to drink water ;)’ in your notifications and you can’t help but pout.

Seungcheol was nice, almost too nice. Definitely not in a murderer kinda way though, you think.

He bought you expensive gifts and never asked for anything in return which made you feel bad sometimes. And while the donations and tips you’d made through your camshows was enough to get by with, Seungcheol’s generous donations helped you always make your rent and bills on time without worrying if you’d have enough or not.

You quickly text him back with a smile on your face; hoping that he’ll like what you had to offer.

Seungcheol feels the exact same way he did when you first contacted him offering him a free show, except maybe ten times worse. At first, he’d been a little sad that he hadn’t won your quick little game but this made up for it 20-fold.

The six simple words read ‘want to meet up next friday?’, a small heart emoji next to the question and he’d almost thrown his phone when he read it, hands shakily responding with a simple ‘I’d love to.’ to make it seem like he was calm when he was most definitely not.

His immediate next order of business after replying was to text Namjoon despite how late into the night it already was, begging for the day off and offering to take any shifts or pay cuts in exchange for it.

All he needed was one day and he swore he’d never miss a day of work ever again.

Namjoon responds with a quick ‘sure, why not’, momentarily confusing him as to why his boss was awake while simultaneously sending Seungcheol into complete panic when he realizes he finally gets to meet you.

The week goes by extremely quickly to Seungcheol; his mood on a completely different level when he offers to pick up Yoongi’s Sunday shift without a complaint. He cleans up all the messes around the roller rink and even offers to do jobs that aren’t his which have Jeongguk raising a brow at the older male.

In the days that lead up to your meeting, Seungcheol looks up a few cafes that you might be interested in and even goes to get an STD exam, not that he’s expecting anything. Safety first, he says.

Your Wednesday show comes and goes, Seungcheol too excited to even get off when he watches you and he even donates an extra $600 at the end of the show; travel spending money, he offers.

And Thursday comes without a hitch and he all but skips to the employee backroom once his shift is over, humming a tune while he changes out of his uniform.

“Hey hyung, no offense, but are you okay?” Jeongguk rests against the locker next to Seungcheol’s open one, brow raised at the blue haired male that beams back at him. “I’m scared, why are you so… giddy. You even offered to take Yoongi-hyung’s weekend shift? What the hell was that about? I’ve never seen him that giddy either. Man, this place is getting weird, maybe I should quit...”

Seungcheol can’t help but laugh, patting Jeongguk on the shoulder before shutting his locker.

“I have an important meeting tomorrow, that’s all. And don’t quit, ‘cause who else is gonna give me free food.”

While the excitement had him since Saturday, now that it was finally Friday, he was downright nervous.

The two of you had agreed to meet at 2PM in front of the cafe that Seungcheol had picked out and you’d gotten a hotel in town to make it easier on yourself instead of trying to get back to your place too late. Seungcheol had offered to come pick you up, but you had politely declined; instead opting to meet him first before letting him do anything else for you.

And by nature, Seungcheol gets to the cafe 15 minutes early, fidgeting and continuously running his fingers through his hair as he patiently waits. He can feel his palms getting sweaty when he rubs them against his jeans, mentally trying to keep calm and his head floods with all sorts of thoughts; mainly, how he even got into this position with you in the first place. And he gets so distracted that he doesn’t realize you’d be standing watching him zone out for the last 5 minutes.

“Wow, not sure what’s got you so focused but you’re standing so still!”

Seungcheol hears your cute airy laugh that follows, a cherry blush on his cheeks when his eyes meet your smiling face. “I--oh my god…” He whispers, taking in your appearance.

He feels his face buzzing, fingers twitching when he sees you in a cute simple sundress. “W-wow, you--you’re just… so beautiful. I mean, you’re beautiful on cam too but just, wow, in person? Incredible.” The blush reaches his ears when he realizes he’s rambling, a nervous laugh spilling out of his lips.

“S--sorry, I, uh, usually I’m more chill than this but y’know…” He trails off, to which you nod. You step closer to Seungcheol and he gets a hint of your sweet smelling perfume, mentally groaning when your cute eyes peer up into his.

“That’s okay! I totally understand~ I’m kinda nervous myself too, to be honest…” You pause, a pink blush coating your own cheeks. “But let’s talk over some food, huh?”

Seungcheol doesn’t want to pry, but he’s not sure if he should address you as ‘Cherry’ in person, or if he should avoid calling you by anything at all.

He watches as you go through the cafe’s menu, biting the inside of his cheek as he itches to ask.

“‘Cheol… I can feel you staring, y’know.. Penny for your thoughts?” You ask, concerned eyes meeting his nervous ones.

“I just-- Sorry, I didn’t mean to be awkward, I just was wondering how I should address you in person? I don’t want to overstep my bounds, I know you don’t put your real name out there so…”

You place your menu down, closing it before leaning on your palms atop the small table. Seungcheol is cute, too cute, you think. You knew this would be a question when the two of you eventually met and you had given yourself the time to get used to the idea that he’d know your real name.

He eyes hyperfocus on your glossy lips, watching as you say your name for him for the first time.

Seungcheol’s heart threatens to beat out of his chest when he hears it; repeating it over and over in his head before he says it out loud.

“Wow, it sounds nice when it’s you saying it~” You tease, leaning back in your chair. “I don’t mind if you call me by my name, by the way! The pet names are cute but maybe we should keep that to the bedroom~” You end in a whisper, winking at the male.

Fuck, he thinks, just as his cock throbs at your comment. He really wishes you wouldn’t say things like that because he’s weak and he knows it, especially when it comes to you. “Okay, cool! Yeah, sorry, I just---I didn’t want to overstep, I know you don’t really let that be public information.”

“Of course! And thank you, I really can’t tell you how much you’ve done for me. I really… really wouldn’t be able to do all the things that I do if it weren’t for your constant support.”

You want to say more, but the waiter comes to take your orders, cutting you off until he leaves again.

“By the way…” Seungcheol looks at you with curious eyes, lips puckered around his drink straw. “Tell me about yourself, ‘Cheollie! I feel like we didn’t really get to talk that one time!”

He swallows the water in his mouth, licking his dry lips. Here goes nothing, he thinks.

“I swear, and please don’t think I’m a loser, but I--I work at a roller rink. It’s really not cool, I’m not some high paid CEO or whatever, I--I just, I work hard?” Seungcheol chuckles, running a hand through his hair as he waits for your reply.

“Wait, that’s so cool! Oh my gosh, I kinda wanna go!”

The surprise washes over Seungcheol, eyes wide as saucers when he hears you saying you’d want to visit his workplace. “Wuh---wait, seriously!?”

“Yeah! It’s kinda, like, retro! I haven’t been to one since I was a kid!” He quickly offers to bring you to the roller rink on Sunday so you could have somewhere to hang out while you were in town.

“And sadly, I took a shift on Sunday so you can hang with me while I work.”

Seungcheol grins, watching as you jokingly roll your eyes at him. “So you did it on purpose, huh…” The two of you share a laugh, glad that your first meeting seemed to be going okay so far.

“Well, I mean, if it makes you feel any better, my best friend works the concession stand so I’ll make sure to get you a free pair of skates and food whenever you want?”

“It’s a deal!”

The two of you continue to talk over your late lunch, Seungcheol telling you of the various work hijinks he’d gone through at his time working at the roller rink.

“Which, by the way, that morning show you did… Hope you know I holed up in the restroom for an entire hour for that ‘lil stunt.”

You can’t help the tears that fall from your eyes when you laugh, only feeling slightly bad for the blue haired male. “But I told you! Sometimes it’s just like that, y’know~” You tease back, heart blooming at the way you and Seungcheol got along.

In all honesty, there’d been something on your mind since you first sat down and you didn’t know when the right time to ask was, or if it was even appropriate.

The smile slips from your face as you bite the inside of your cheek in thought.

Seungcheol takes the bill from the waiter, slipping his card into the holder before you can even offer. But he notices the way your expression falls, noting the hesitance in your eyes when he looks at you from across the table.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” His voice is gentle, soft and caring when he leans over the table to make sure you’re alright.

“Yeah! Just---Can I ask you for a favor?”

#cherrybomb!cheol #seungcheol smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #scoups smut #scoups scenarios #scoups imagines #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol scenarios #svt scenarios #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #scoups #seungcheol

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

Text

Goof Week: Sports Goofy in SoccerMania: GoofTales Woo-oo! (Paid For for WeirdKev27)

Gorsh all you happy people and welcome back to Goof Week, my Weeklong Celebration of everyone’s favorite goofus.

And today we have a special treat, something nice and obscure but something that still has a vital place in Disney History. Welcome folks to Sports Goof in Soccermania!

So yesterday in my Goof Troop review I wished there had been another DuckTales episode with Goofy, you know maybe find out what happened to Peg, see Max and Roxanne again that sort of thing. Whelp SOMEONE must’ve hid a Monkey’s Paw around here somewhere because I got this special instead on comision. This is a VERY intresting little artifact as it came out only 4 months before DuckTales, was produced around the same time, and was written by Tad Stones, who would both go on to work on DuckTales and even more importantly create Darkwing Duck.

Not only that but it has some odd things attached to it: it’s the first major production starting Scrooge, as he had an educational short about him, the first animated appearance of the Beagle Boys and most important the FIRST time Russi Taylor would voice Huey, Dewey and Louie, something she’d do till her passing a few years ago. At the time of this article she has not been recast, though I personally vote for Cristina Valenzuela, who took over the role of Young Donald and frankly does such a good job with that voice I didn’t know if Russi had already recorded lines for Season 3 before her passing.

So what IS Sports Goofy in Soccermania you ask? It was a TV Special from 1987, again four months before DuckTales, that was later sold on VHS. My guess is Disney intended for this to become a regular thing like the Charlie Brown or Garfield specials, but my honest guess is with DuckTales MASSIVE success they wanted to put all the TV Animation resources into making more shows to go with it. The fact the special is essentailly a Scrooge story with Goofy in it and Scrooge and the Boys were now tied up in DuckTales probably helped the decision. So we only got one of these and i’m proud to share it for Goof Week. So join me under the cut to see what a Sports Goof is, what Scrooge sounds like without Alan Young or David Tennant andto see me refrence the film UHF because I likes it.

So we open with the titles which are neat and then open at the Money bin, we even get a great sign gag that looks like something Carl Barks would write.

So Scrooge greets his nephews the way he greets everybody.. with a canon to the face... though he backs of firing once he realizes it’s them. The boys ALL wear red this special so .. I guess Huey won and now rules all three bodies with an iron fist? So the Huey Hive Mind asks Scrooge for a donation, a standard Scrooge setup, ask the rich asshole for money, as their trying to help the local soccer program and they need a buck fiddy for a trophy.

Scrooge’s voice here.. is terrible. I do not like to bash voice actors, they are hard working talented people who do a lot of great stuff, often for less pay than they deserve, and this blog ALWAYS makes that painfully clear. And Will Ryan is not without talent: While he hasn’t done much i’m familiar with he did play Petrie in Land Before Time and was great in it. So while I don’t dislike him as a person.. he did an utterly DREADFUL Scrooge. He dosen’t really attempt to do a scottish accent despite the character still saying cannae at one point, and as for what accent he is going for...

His Scrooge just sounds like someone trying to do a “foreign” accent and failing. It just sounds weird and makes every bit of his dialouge aside from one a chore to sit through. And the dialouge isn’t bad dialouge, it’s a well written and animated Scrooge even with the lower budget than Ducktales, but the voice just ruins it for me. Even without Young and Tennant to compare it to this just blows and the fact it’s paired up with the iconic Russi Taylor voice for the triplets.

This being Scrooge he instead fishes a Trophy out of the bin that’s all banged up and dinky and shoos them out. So in natural Barksian fashion the trophy turns out to be worth a million dollars. So we get some reaction shots.. INCLUDING GRANDMA DUCK!

For DuckTales fans joining us who have ZERO idea who that is, since she sadly did not make it into the reboot and Frank did have ideas, Grandma Duck is Donald, Della and Gladstone’s grandma. She’s a sweet old country woman who lives on a farm and is in fact the one who sold him Kilmotor HIll, with her husband renaming it from Killmule hill. I like her a lot since she reminds me of my own grandma and like her she still works when she can. Donald’s cousin Gus loafs around and eats as her farmhand. As you can tell I like her a lot, agani because she reminds me of one of my grandmas so this was nice even if she was only around for 20 seconds of screentime.

This ends up in the paper and sends Scrooge through the roof, literally when he finds out.

Two notes before we move on: The bin has a unique really cool design , though I get why other productions haven’t used it: besides this one’s obscurity while cool it just looks a bit TOO nice for Scrooge. Even in 2017 while still damn cool looking it still looks practicle. This .. is not that.

This looks like MC Hammer built this. It still looks awesome bu tit’s just not Scrooge sadly.

The other is that his Butler is named Jeeves here, but looks almost exactly like Duckworth. Just feels weird is all.

Naturally the Beagle Boys happen upon the paper too and their leader, no name given has a plan: Enter legitmately and win the cup all legal like, which dosen’t sound like it lives up to the beagle code of no hones twork.... until he brings up theri going ot cheat their asses off.

Meanwhile Scrooge tries bribing the boys with a giant trophy at their house... with Donald oddly absent despite Anselmo having taken over for Nash by this point. I know he was still a bit rough at the roll, but come on. It’s just.. weird especailly for reasons i’ll get into soon.

So Scrooge agrees to sponsor the boys teams so he can get the trophy back square, and is forced to buy a knew ball and here we FINALLY get Goofy. I say finally because this special is 20 mintues long and it takes almost a fourth of it for him to arrive. It’s just weird for him to not be in it for so long. I mean I don’t want THIS

Flashbeagle didn’t take a fourth of the special to get to Flashbeagle. It did take longer than that to get to the title track but when your sitting on THIS

youtube

You gotta use it JUST right. Goofy here is not played by Bill Farmer, which IS odd as he did start playing him that year, but my guess is they weren’t sure if they were going with Farmer or the actor who played him in this special, Tony Pope, so they were trying out both as whoever DID get the role would have it for life. Disney takes the casting of the sensational 7 VERY seriously, as evidenced by the fact most cast changes are caused by death and unlike with Tony and Donald it’s clear Colvig hadn’t picked a succesor. I can also see why it’s a hard choice: while farmer IS excellent and was the right man for the job, Pope is still excellent in the role, bringing the warmth and energy you’d expect from Goofy and having excellent comedic timing that’s vital to getting the dog man right. I can see why this was such a hard choice, even if I also see they went with Farmer: Farmer just has slightly more energy to the roll. It’s a small diffrence and something that dosen’t effect the special, but it is a KEY diffrence and the reason Bill’s THE goofy to me even over his original voice actor Pinto Colvig.

Also I may of mispoke there... see it’s not Goofy in this special it’s SPORTS Goofy. No really every bit of dialogue refers to him as Sports Goofy. It’d be like if they refered to then CEO Micheal Eisner as Won’t Think Through Eurodisneyland Micheal Eisner.

So Sports Goofy helps them get a ball in an honestly awesome way and shows despite his clumsy manner, he’s damn cordinated, easily putting everything up and showing some real skill with the ball. So Moneygrubbing Scrooge decides Sports Goofy is his ticket to get the trophy back and recuits goofy as coach and star player for the boys team.

So Asshole Scrooge meets his team the Greenbacks.. which are a bunch of random animal characters with no real personality. They are a hippo, a goat, expresso the ostrich, a navy (blue) seal, an elephant in a beanie, a killaroo and a cheetah or leopard. But I have one question, really simple really easy one...

You need 11 players for a soccer team, thank you google. So they DID get that accurate. With Goofy and the Triplets you only need 7 more. THIS is why Donald’s absence is glaring: he’s just oddly not there when they needed 7 other characters but Elephant in a Beanie gets in there. And it’s not hard ot fill either: Donald , Daisy (Because duh), Gyro and Grandma Duck (Because both cameoed but I only mentioned Grandma Duck, though this is ALSO Gyro’s first apperance), Gladstone (who as it turns out had a cameo storyboarded that didn’t make it into the final product), Gus (Since grandma duck) and Scrooge’s butler since he was in an earlier scene anyway so why waste the character model. They could still play the same roll as easily steamrolled underdogs and it’d make more sense. It just baffles me that with such a deep bench to play from, they don’t use ANY OF IT in favor of the cast of Animal Soccer World.

The Greenbacks can’t play for greenjack, which worries Scrooge.. but Goofy is able to carry them to the finals, while the Beagle Boys make their way there too. We find this out.. via newspaper transition. We get a bunch of headlines telling us what happened instead of you know a montage because that costs money and they already spent 1.50 making this special.. they only have 50 cents left.

So the Beagles recognizing Sport Goofy is the only thing in their way plots a kidnappin. We get a gut busting scene of the beagles all hiding in Sports Goofy’s house with him being oblvious only to spring on him.

The next day with Sports Goofy a no show the team is bummed, even mor ewhen they find a kidnapping note from Don’tGetNotToLeaveEvidence Beagle Boys. Seriously give that to the officals.

So Asshole Scrooge tries to give a rousing speech... and it is a sight to behold and the one highlight of pope as scrooge... it’s why I picked it as the article image. That glitching isn’t me by the way: it REALLY does that. Coupled with the yellow eyes i’ts just fantastic. So the team decides to morosely play the game and Hivemind Huey boos scrooge for not having faith in him. Instead of again you know telling the officials. Maybe assimilating the other made Huey dumber. I

So the game begins and the Cheating Beagles cream the Give Up To Easily Green Backs, while Sports Goofy watches from the other Crime Beagles hideout. It honestly reminds me of UHF: a dumb well meaning guy whose vital to something succeding is kidnapped.. it dosen’t involve Weird Al dressing up as rambo but still. It also makes me want UHF but with the disney cast. Fethry as weird al, Donald as his best friend, Fethry’s girlfriend for the comcis as weird al’s girlfriend, Gyro as philo, Goofy as Stanley, and Pete of course is Stacey Keach. I could go on but you get the point. Someone draw this. Sport Goofy is a clever bastard and escapes by working one of his shoes off, taking a nearbye knife and cutting himself free.. and almost stabbing a beagle boy in the face but that would just make two. Sport Goofy escapes and the lunkheaded beagle boys chase after him IN THEIR CAR WHILE GOOFY RUNS AHEAD OF IT. Goofy, he can really move! Goofy, he’s got attitude! Goofy HE’S THE FASTEST THING ALLIIIIVEEEEEE. Sport Goofy makes it in time fo rhalf time, rallies the troops and it goes how you’d expect: They overcome the beagles blatant cheating, win the cup, the beagles attempt to cheat with a rigged ball backfires and they all get arrested. It’s by the numbers stuff. We end with Scrooge deciding to dontate the trophy instead (though in a great bit asking if it was tax deductible), and posing for a team shot> We get some awesome credits music and we’re out

Final Thoughts:

This special is mediocre: There are only a handful of great jokes, it’s your standard “teamwork makes the dreamwork plot” that dosen’t work because our underdogs really CAN’T play without their star, and Scrooge’s voice hurts to listen to. Pope and Taylor are great and while Will Ryan is an awful Scrooge, he is a good Beagle Boy or five.

It IS worth a watch though. It’s riffable enough with the sometimes sloppy unfinished animatoin in the last part and Scrooge’s terrible voice, and it is still is a neat oddity for 90′s kids like myself to not only see Russi’s first thing as Huey Dewey and Louie, but to also see Scrooge and Goofy with vastly diffrent voice actors, as well as Gyro and the Beagle Boys first animated apperances. The fact this came just months before Ducktales makes it all the more intresting. So if your looking for a legit good Disney product.. this is shoddy at best if well meaning. But as a bit of disney history, especially only clocking in at 20 minutes so it’ sa brisk watch, it’s worth a look if your into that.

Next On Goof Week: We come on in To The House of Mouse where goofy becomes faster than a speeding punchline, more powerful than pete when his family has to wrestle him to the ground to take him to the doctor and able to make tall leaps of logic in a single bound. it’s SUPER GOOF!

So thank you for reading and if you liked this review give it a like and consider joining my patreon at patreon.com/popculturebuffet. As a patron you’d get access to exclusive reviews, the patreon’s discord and to pick a short each time I do one of these shortstaculars. Donald’s comnig next month and the deadline is in only a few days to join up for said month so the clock is ticking. Even a dollar a month helps me reach my stretch goals so please i fyou can sign up today and if not, I understand and i’ll see you at the next rainbow

#sports goof #soccermania #goofy goof #goof #scrooge mcduck #ducktales #huey duck #the beagle boys #gyro gearloose #grandma duck #animation #disney #soccer #football

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larry-hiatus · 3 years

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Sub Harry Fic Fest - Prompts I Submitted

I always seem to discover fic fests after prompt submission has closed, but I found the Sub Harry Fest in time to submit a few! ... or more than a few >.< I wanted to share all the prompts I came up with to hopefully encourage more people to join! If you want to write any of them, please head over to @subharryficfest to apply by August 1! (There are a bunch of other great ones there too!)

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32. Based off of this post from the SNL Sara Lee skit: “Why do guys freak out when I ask them to spit in my mouth? Need a real king who can handle.” Harry posts this (on his dating profile? Fetlife account? Other social media?) and then he gets a message from someone who may be willing to be that king. You pick the pairing.

33. Harry’s boyfriend (whoever you want) gets a new puppy and frequently tells the dog how he’s a good boy. Harry gets jealous and decides to show his boyfriend how much of a good boy HE can be.

38. Impractical Jokers Style fic (with all five boys playing), in which one of the guys is challenged to walk Harry around a store with a BDSM collar and leash. They agree. The other boys think it’s hilarious, and Harry and whoever holds the leash laugh along. But, when the two are alone, they think maybe they should bring this collar and leash to try in the bedroom.

39. Harry has a long distance dom (or maybe his dom is on a long business trip), who sends Harry different toys and kinky items. Harry then calls his dom once he receives the package and his Dom tells him what to do to himself with them while they’re on the phone.

40. Harry is a cam boy. During one of his live video sessions, someone new comes into his chat room and tells him that they’ll pay him a thousand dollars (or pounds, whatever you want) if Harry does whatever this person tells him to do for the rest of the night.

41. Harry and his newish friend (whoever you pick) are chatting and it comes up that Harry is a sub. His friend says he happens to need a sub for a private adult class that he teaches later in the week and asks if Harry would be interested. Harry agrees. He gets the address and is told to come early and they’ll discuss the details then. Harry shows up and realizes that this isn’t an ordinary class. His friend is a professional dom who teaches those new to BDSM how to properly dominate. When the friend said he needed a “sub” for his class, he meant he needed a submissive to help him demonstrate, not a substitute teacher like Harry is. Harry decides to go along with it anyway.

42. Harry and his roommate hate each other and are always fighting. One day, during one of their heated fights, Harry gets slapped in the face. He happens to have a pain kink and gets noticeably aroused.

44. Based around the infamous collar photo shoot. Harry wears his collar to the set (maybe he forgets he has it on?), the photographer sees it and gets the idea for Harry to wear it during the shoot. When Harry’s dom (whoever) finds out, Harry gets punished.

45. Harry’s dom decides to put his bandana collection to good use as blindfolds, gags, cuffs, tying him to the bed etc.

46. Harry gets punished for acting like such a slut on stage.

48. Harry’s dom punishes him for swearing during his Grammy acceptance speech.

49. Harry is a sub for the other four 1D boys, who are all his doms. Sexual or not, or both, you decide. Maybe, he’s dating one and that guy shares with the other three. Maybe, he is dating all of them, or maybe, he is dating none of them and it’s strictly a BDSM relationship. Surprise us!

50. Based on the time Harry saw a fan sign that says “Louis Tops” and made a “so so/sometimes/kinda” hand motion. He is just joking because he is the kind of sub who has only ever bottomed. Louis finds out about the joke and decides to punish Harry by power bottoming and making Harry top him.

51. Harry’s dom decides to humiliate him/punish him by making him do girly things, like wear nail polish and dresses. Harry eventually realizes that he actually likes it…

That’s all of them! Which is your favorite?!

(This post is up to date as of July 25. I’ll try to cross out prompts if they get taken. Check the official fest prompt list to see what’s still available.)

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tlbodine · 4 years

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Thanksgiving is Gonna Be Weird: A Survival Guide for 2020

It’s 2020, the pandemic is worse than ever, and the holidays are right around the corner. No matter what, this is going to be a weird Thanksgiving for a lot of people. With travel restrictions in place and most of us having a mighty desire not to murder our friends and family by spreading around a disease, there’s a good chance that you’re going to be celebrating a bit differently this year.

And, hey, maybe you decide not to celebrate at all. Which is perfectly valid!

But maybe you’re staring down the possibility of your first Thanksgiving on your own, or feeding just the small group you live for rather than a big crowd, or some other unusual circumstance. And if that’s the case, I wanted to compile together some resources/ideas to help you out. I know this isn’t my usual horror fare, but...well, I hope it’s helpful, regardless.

“Help, I’ve Never Made Thanksgiving Dinner Before” Starter Kit

Maybe you’ve always gone home for the holidays but are currently stuck in an apartment with a few roommates, and none of you have any intensive cooking skills. Maybe you always take the kids to Grandma’s house and have never had to contribute more than a side dish but now really want to do a proper Thanksgiving feast for your partner(s), kid(s) and whoever else lives in your house.

Never fear! A Thanksgiving feast doesn’t have to be intimidating! In fact, Thanksgiving foods are usually pretty simple; the most challenging part of the whole feast is the project management aspect of working with a lot of different dishes and getting everything ready at once. But the smaller your crowd to feed, the easier that is!

So, the first thing you’ll want to do is come up with a menu. Sit down and write a list of all the foods you normally eat and enjoy on Thanksgiving. If something is served at your family meal that you’ve never cared for, guess what? You can boot that bad boy right off the list!

By and large, the standard Thanksgiving feast consists of:

Roast turkey

Mashed potatoes

Gravy

Some kind of dinner roll

Cranberry sauce

Some number of vegetable side dishes (often a green been casserole and a sweet potato casserole)

Some kind of dessert (often/traditionally a pumpkin pie)

I’ve linked above some easy & favorite techniques/recipes for all of these foods, but of course you can buy time-saving convenience items to get you rolling -- from potato flakes to gravy mix to premade pie. I won’t tell if you don’t.

If there’s something you’re used to eating every year that you don’t know how to make....call whoever usually makes it! If at all possible, obviously, I’m not recommending you do a seance to talk to your dead great-aunt and get her rolls recipe. Just, like...phone up your friend/family member, get the recipe, and use it as an opportunity to connect. Odds are both of you are missing the human interaction.

“Hey, That’s Nice, But I Live in a Dorm Room” Edition

Okay, okay, I get it. You’re away at college and can’t get home to see your family safely and you’re living in some kind of weird socially isolated dorm situation where you have limited access to cooking implements. Or, shit, idk, maybe you’re couch-surfing or living in a motel or otherwise not in possession of a full kitchen.

I got you, fam.

Do you have at your disposal a microwave? Rice cooker? Even an electric kettle will work!

If you have some way to boil water, you can make instant mashed potatoes, gravy, and stove-top stuffing. If you have a microwave, you can steam some vegetables and bake a sweet potato. For dessert, core an apple, stuff the cavity with brown sugar + cinnamon + butter and nuke in the microwave for 4 minutes.

It’s hypothetically possible to microwave a turkey, but I wouldn’t recommend it. Instead, I’d opt to buy a deli roast chicken (about $5 at most grocery stores), or even just some turkey deli meat. Alternatively, ham usually just needs to be warmed rather than cooked, and you can buy a big ol’ ham steak at the store for a couple of bucks.

“I’m Dead Broke Because COVID, Send Help”

You know the great thing about Thanksgiving food? It’s cheap. No, really! It can be, anyway, especially since a lot of foods go on sale.

In my area anyway, the local Wal-Mart and Smith’s Grocery have:

A can of green beans for about 79 cents

A bag of instant mashed potatoes for about $1

A big can of yams for about $1, or fresh yams for 50 cents/lb (usually a couple sweet potatoes = 1lb)

Canned corn or peas + corn for 50 cents, or steam-in-bag veggies of your choice for $1

Stovetop stuffing for $1 or sometimes even 50 cents per box

Margarine for 79 cents to $1

Gravy mix packets for 50 cents each

A can of cranberry sauce for $1 or less

Most of these are also available at Dollar Tree!

A lot of food banks will also be giving out turkeys this time of year, and some grocery stores will give you a free turkey if you spend $50 or $100 on groceries or whatever. Do you have an older relative who needs groceries? Ask if you can go buy their food and deliver it to their door (contactless!) and keep the free turkey.

You can pretty easily feed a group of 4-6 for $20 or so, especially if you’re willing to be flexible on your protein. And what are you doing feeding more than 6 people in the middle of a pandemic, huh?

“I’m Used to Hosting a Big Dinner But There’s Only Like Three Of Us Living In This House WTF How Do I Scale This Shit Down”

Maybe you are a Thanksgiving veteran. Maybe you’re accustomed to hosting for a big crowd and cooking a small meal just seems dumb and pointless. I feel you. This is my life right now! But don’t despair!

The way I see it, you’ve got a couple-three options:

Option One:

Cook your turkey + a different side each day, and eat your Thanksgiving feast spread out over a week or so. It’ll keep your leftovers from dominating your fridge, let you eat something fresh, and allow you to enjoy all your favorite recipes. Downside is you’ll have to cook every day, so you tell me if you’re too busy to do that.

Option Two:

Cook everything that you normally would, but portion off half of it or whatever to stuff into your freezer, or go deliver it to somebody else’s door. The odds are pretty good that you’ve got a friend or family member who is freaking out about the holiday, and if you can’t see them in person, you can at least drop food off on their porch and then honk aggressively/cheerfully from the safety of your car!

Option Three:

Make something different this year. If you’re a foodie, take this as an opportunity to challenge yourself to create something high-maintenance and weird that you wouldn’t normally make. This is a good choice if you’re off work and stuck in your house with nothing else to do. Basically you’re subbing out quantity for quality so the meal still feels special and unique even if it’s, y’know....just you and your cat, or whoever.

PS: Roasting a whole chicken or a cornish game hen is a fun, small-scale way to get your bird-in-the-oven experience. You can also buy a turkey breast and just cook that, which will be a lot faster than the whole bird anyway.

"I’m An Essential Worker And I’m Working Thanksgiving And Have No Time To Do ANYTHING, What Now?”

Dude, I get it. And whether you’re a doctor, nurse, grocery store employee, or whatever other essential service-worker, my heart goes out to you because hoo boy this year has been shit, hasn’t it? I can’t do anything about the hazard pay situation, but I CAN tell you that there are a few places offering delivery-based Thanksgiving meal options!

You might want to search around a bit for your specific area. Cracker Barrel, Marie Callendar’s, Boston Market, and other types of branded “home-cooking” type restaurants tend to have some kind of Thanksgiving thing. Why not call your local restaurant fav to see if they’re doing something similar? Most restaurants are desperate for a way to stay afloat right now, so a ton of places that don’t traditionally deliver are offering curbside service now. It’s worth a try!

So, there you have it.

I hope some of these tips taught you something new, pointed you to a helpful resource, or gave you some ideas. More than anything, I just want everybody to be safe and happy this holiday. So, please -- get creative, wear your mask while you’re shopping, avoid the get-togethers, and be careful. You may save a life!

#holidays #thanksgiving #covid 19 #PSA #cooking #food #tips #I hope this helps someone #please reblog if I missed anything #long post

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adhd-wifi · 5 years

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MDZS Modern AU Fic Tips (Living in China)

So I asked a while back if anyone was interested in some fic tips for writing Chinese modern AUs, and y’all seemed enthusiastic. But…when I tried putting it all in a single post it got…really…really long…

So I split them into a bunch of posts (Yes I copy-pasted this intro on all of them because I’m lazy)! Here are the links:

Names & Stuff

Modern Chinese Cultural Stuff

Superstitions & Beliefs

Festivals

Living in China (You are here)

Anyways, these are based off my experiences living in Singapore and China, and I hope these posts are helpful. On to it.

Living in China

Disclaimer: I mostly lived in Singapore during my existence, and thus I can’t give you extremely detailed info of what it’s like exactly, but I do visit my Chinese relatives fairly frequently, so these are general tips. Also, please keep in mind that the info here is biased towards life in Dalian & Harbin. I’ve been to Beijing but only twice so I don’t remember a lot.

The currency in China is RMB, or “yuan”. 100 RMB is about $14 USD, and not considered a lot of money

Side Note: The above tip is also another reason why you shouldn’t ever write A-Yuan’s name as just “Yuan”. It makes him look like the local currency djsasldkj

Coin values are (with comparison to US currency):

1 yuan (like a dollar)

5 jiao (Half-yuan - 50 cents)

1 jiao (1/10 yuan - 10 cents)

5 fen (0.05 yuan - 5 cents)

1 fen (0.01 - basically a penny)

Also related to money, in more urban areas, people don’t really carry cash or even cards around anymore. Practically everything is paid electronically, through WeChat Pay and other cash/bank apps, typically using QR codes on phones. You’ll have a hard time as a foreigner if you don’t have any of those apps in these areas (AKA me when I forget to re-download them before heading to China)

The exceptions to this would be places where tourists and foreigners are very frequent, such as hotels, airports, tourist buildings, universities (though my cousin’s old uni recently went full electronic payment I think???) etc, and more rural areas

Some Chinese social media and stuff:

BaiDu 百度 - Basically Chinese Google. We also use it the way we use “google” as a verb, saying 百度一下 (bǎi dù yī xià) - “Let me BaiDu it”

WeChat - Very similar to Whatsapp in general, also used for money purposes with WeChat Pay

QQ Mail - The most frequently used email platform in China. QQ Mail also has an Instant Messenger last time I checked. Also, I think QQ still uses number-based IDs, so the address would look something like: ([email protected]). Hotmail is fairly common in China too, particularly with those who need have to send international emails

YouKu 优酷 - The most popular video hosting site (most similar to YouTube out of the many video sites)

bilibili 哔哩哔哩 (yes, small caps) - Another video site well-known for animations, games, and comics especially

TaoBao 淘宝 - Cosplayers would probably know this. Something like a Chinese Amazon or Lazada.

WeiBo 微博 - Main Chinese social media platform. Feels like a FaceBook + Twitter fusion

LOFTER - Feels like a Chinese Tumblr

Even in urban areas, it’s easy to find entire streets of literally nothing but restaurants by the main roads (+ maybe a stationary shop, salon, or something in a corner, and you can often drive right up to the front door and park right there (in more populated areas and/or near malls/attractions, there will likely be extra open parking space nearby such restaurant streets)

Some larger restaurants, especially those with seafood specialties, don’t have actual booklet menus. Instead they have a wide selection of fresh ingredients (wrapped up safely in layers saran wrap) such as vegetables, cuts of meat, and tanks of living fish/shellfish/crustaceans near the entrance. They tend to have a list of dishes you can order by the corresponding ingredients, or a server nearby to tell you and take your orders. Apparently this is more common in the North.

You don’t tip in restaurants in China. You COULD slip a particular server or two some cash if you wanted to, but as an overall system tipping does not exist and also it’s not “one server one table”. It’s “whoever’s available to serve you IN THAT MOMENT will serve you” so you’ll likely see at least three different servers throughout your meal. Please. Stop with the “Hi I’ll be your server today” in China-set fics. It’s SOOOOO WEIRD.

I’ve never studied in China, but I checked this guide with my Chinese cousin and it’s pretty accurate about the educational system there

Speaking of schools, you wear uniforms up to Upper Secondary (some to Post-Secondary). As typical gender-conformity strikes again, girls will wear skirts and boys will wear pants. The exception is during the colder months, in which everyone will basically just wear full body tracksuits (school-issued) to school and it’s their uniform for the whole day. This is particularly common in schools with low or no heating systems, especially in more rural areas

Drivers sit on the left side of their vehicle in China. Typically, any foreign cars (such as from Hong Kong - which would have the driver on the right) will need a mainland license plate. (This might be changing in recent times though.)

I don’t know much about the healthcare systems in China anymore, I was hospitalized once at 3 or 4 and don’t remember much, but in general basic healthcare from public hospitals is low-cost to free (depending on the region) for Chinese citizens with their basic insurance plans (individual and employee provided). You get charged (more) for hospitalization and more serious treatments like surgeries, physical/mental therapy, vaccinations (this is a pro-vax blog btw, just saying), and maybe dental. Most of these can be covered by insurance too though. If you go to a private hospital, it’s considerably more expensive of course.

Okay that’s all the info I can think of to be potentially useful in fics lol.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #cql #chen qing ling #the untamed #chinese things #chinese fic tips #fic tips #modern au #my posts

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writethehousedown · 4 years

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Trust Fund, Gold Tongue (Crygi) 1/7 - Peridot

A/N: I am so excited to be taking part in the Summer Lovin’ fic challenge! This is going to be my first multichap ever, so bare with me!! I’ve enjoyed working on this for ages now, and I’m so excited to share it with you all. You can find me at my sideblog @artificialperidot, come say hi!!

Summary: Crystal hates her summer job in a country club, until she falls oh so hard for the sweet-talking millionaire daughter of the owner. Gigi would rather not spend her summer with her dysfunctional family, but a certain red headed waitress proves to be a welcome distraction.

They would both rather be anywhere else, but perhaps their summer won’t be as bad as it seems.

Hope you enjoy!!

Crystal could think of a hundred things she’d rather be doing this summer than working in a country club full of wealthy pricks. But the wage was decent, and God knows her rent wasn’t going to pay itself.

Walking into the resort for the first time had been like walking into another dimension, a complete other world from the life she knew, where there was no such thing as “too expensive”. It was like getting a glimpse into the other side of the world, of affluence that she could have never comprehended unless she had seen it with her own eyes. The complex was huge, spanning acres upon acres of land, and lavishly decorated - the front lobby had a fountain, for Christ’s sake.

Crystal thought it looked like something from MTV Cribs. On crack.

Not only was the place huge, but it had more facilities than Crystal could’ve even imagined - a golf course, a bowling alley, tennis courts, a spa, and countless swimming pools and hot tubs, some of which Crystal had yet to find on her first week on the job. Not to mention the private restaurants and numerous bars, which, as a waitress, she most often found herself working in.

So far, Crystal had learned two things in her first week working at the country club. Number one, for having such expensive taste, rich old white men liked drinking really cheap beer. And number two, despite the beer being cheap, they would do anything they could to avoid paying for it.

Crystal leaned against her beer cart and did her very best to ignore the sound of a 50-something year old country club member (who was much too loud and much too drunk for 11am on a Tuesday) babbling something about Crystal bringing him the wrong drink - that he ordered a Budweiser and not a Heineken - in an attempt to get another free pint. Crystal didn’t say a word, only nodding now and again to seem like she was listening. She was absolutely certain the guy was lying through his teeth. She specifically remembered writing down the man’s order, and double checking to make sure she had got it right. But she’d quickly learned to keep her mouth shut, because the people she was dealing with had enough money and enough influence to get her fired in an instant, and that simply was not an option for her.

She learnt that the customer is always right, even if the customer’s nose has grown five inches and their pants have set on fire.

Heaving a sigh, she mumbled out a “sorry about that, sir, I’ll get you another one on the house” through gritted teeth, before lifting all the empty glasses from the poolside table and balancing the man’s pint (which was about two thirds empty, despite it supposedly being ‘the wrong drink’) , precariously on her cart. If she had an ounce more courage, she would’ve challenged him, told him that he and his mates that had tried the same trick on her before weren’t fooling anyone, but she decided she’d leave her complaining for Jan’s ears when they were on lunch break.

She found their reluctance to pay surprising, really, since they had more money than she could even imagine. They had more money than she’d probably earn in her whole life. But, she supposed that’s how they all stayed so rich - by being cheap bastards.

She started wheeling the trolley back towards the bar indoors, hoping the guy didn’t pay much attention to the scowl that had crept its way onto her face. She decided to take the long way back, going around the pool rather than passing by his table again, which gave her a little time to cool off before she had to go inside and tell Jan or whoever was bartending to pour his beer down the sink.

She was tempted to hide round a corner and down the beer when no one was looking, because fuck, she needed a drink right about now.

Crystal found it funny that little things like that bothered her so much. She was fully aware that there were far worse things a person could do - she herself had done things that were way worse than telling a little white lie to get a free drink. But seeing it happen every day for the past week had really rubbed her the wrong way. Sure, in her last job as a waitress in a café she had encountered similar situations, but this felt different. It was different because she knew these people had the money, that they would have no trouble paying a few dollars out of their millions, and that they were stealing for the hell of it. Thinking about it made her want to scream.

Crystal wasn’t poor, per say. She wasn’t rich by any means, but her family had enough money to get by most of the time. It was only now that she was moving out for college at the end of the summer that she was in real need of some cash for her rent and her student loans. But knowing that people slave away for hours in dead end jobs just to make ends meet, and these millionaires wouldn’t pay for a fucking beer? It made her blood boil.

Although she felt like steam was coming out of her ears, she took a few deep breaths to calm herself and keep her cool. She was still working, after all. She found herself staring into the pool water as she rolled the cart along, watching as the sun’s reflection danced on its surface, glimmering. She was thankful for the hot weather, at least. The sunshine lightened everyone’s mood a little, and usually made her job a bit easier.

She considered it a small victory.

“Excuse me, miss?” a woman’s voice called out.

Snapping out of her daydream, Crystal swivelled round in search of the source of the voice. The poolside was fairly empty given the time of day (because let’s face it, if Crystal wasn’t working, she wouldn’t have been awake at 11am, either), so it didn’t take her long to see a girl, lying on one of the sun loungers, seemingly on her own and sticking out like a sore thumb from the older men in golfing gear.

She was young, Crystal thought, probably about the same age as herself or a little younger, and she donned a floppy sun hat and a pair of oversized cat-eye sunglasses, which left Crystal slightly unsure in what direction she was looking, or if she even had her eyes open at all. Her long, dark hair sat in waves down to her chest, and she just so happened to be wearing a very flattering and clearly very expensive bathing suit - a black halter neck bikini, with gold buckles - which left little to the imagination.

She looked like the dictionary definition of a rich girl, and Crystal would’ve rolled her eyes at how cliché she looked if she wasn’t so god damn hot.

“Um, hello?” the girl asked.

Crystal’s heart jolted. “Huh? Oh! Uh, how can I help you?” She jumped to attention, and was now suddenly very aware of her cheeks flushing red. How long had she been staring?

“Could I get another pink lemonade, please?” the girl said as if it was obvious, holding out her empty glass for Crystal to take.

“Oh, sure,” Crystal replied, making her way over to her sunlounger and feeling the heat rush to her face. When she grabbed the glass, Crystal could’ve swore she felt their hands touch for just a millisecond, and she would be lying if she said she didn’t feel a little flustered.

“Thanks,” the girl said, offering Crystal a small smile from behind her huge sunglasses.

A smile of pity, probably, Crystal thought.

She quickly placed the glass onto her cart and began rolling it away as fast as she deemed socially acceptable, speed-walking her way towards the bar. She bit the inside of her cheek and inwardly cursed herself for being so awkward. What was that? Who was that? And why the hell was she having heart palpitations?

She was practically out of breath by the time she reached the bar, which was located just inside a set of double doors, right by the pool. She set the glasses on the bar top, leaning on it in an attempt to steady herself and taking a few seconds to catch her breath. When she looked up, she was met by a smirking Jan, who had a single eyebrow raised.

“Care to tell me why you’re as red as a tomato?”

“Fuck you,” Crystal sighed, a smile breaking onto her face. “It’s warm outside, that’s all.”

Jan raised a single eyebrow. “Whatever you say,” she chirped, clearly not believing her. As much as Crystal wanted to elbow her in the ribs at that, she couldn’t help but smile. One of the few good things to come out of this job was her friendship with Jan and the other staff, which was new, but already felt strong. Jan was the human equivalent of a golden retriever- it was hard not to love her.

“Hey, I need a pink lemonade and a Budweiser beer for customers outside.”

“Another beer? This one’s not finished,” Jan said, gesturing to the pint glass Crystal had placed on the bar top before her.

Crystal rolled her eyes. “Apparently it’s the wrong brand.”

“Ugh. Another one of those guys. I hope he didn’t give you a hard time, sweetie,” she said, shaking her head with a sympathetic smile. “I’ll get the drinks for you now.”

“Thanks, Jan.”

As Jan busied herself with pulling another pint, Crystal could help but peer out through the door at the girl, still laid out on her sun lounger by the pool. She couldn’t deny she was gorgeous, but she wasn’t sure why her heart decided to try to escape her chest at the sight of her, especially seeing half of her face was hidden by those huge sunglasses and that floppy hat. It was probably that damn swimsuit, she thought.

Jan’s voice interrupted her train of thought. “I presume the pink lemonade’s for miss Goode? It’s her usual. I’ll put it on her tab.”

Crystal was quickly brought back to attention. “Who’s miss Goode?” she asked, trying not to seem too curious.

“Probably one of the richest teenagers in this hemisphere,” Jan scoffed.

Crystal gulped. “Oh, really?”

“Mmhm. Her dad’s a multimillionaire, he’s the CEO of some software company,” she said, not looking up from her task of refilling drinks. “He owns this whole country club. The Goode’s always spend their summer here.”

Crystal’s eyes widened. She knew that the girl would be rich, but she didn’t think she would be that rich. She was suddenly very intimidated, but she somehow wasn’t surprised. This ‘miss Goode’ looked like a million dollars, and apparently she was worth even more. One thing was for certain, though - any feelings she possibly could’ve had towards her had to be squashed, immediately.

“She’s not a bad kid, though,” Jan continued. “I kinda feel bad for her sometimes.”

“Why’s that?”

Before Jan could answer, their workmate Heidi swept through from the kitchen, carrying a stack of trays in one hand and a towel in the other, and took her place behind the bar with Jan. “Oh please, there’s nothing to feel bad for. She’s a bazillionaire, she’ll probably never work a day in her life!” she exclaimed, clearly having overheard their conversation. “If I was that rich, I’d be living it up in a mansion with all my rich friends and buying loads of cars and having parties every night. But, ya know. Poverty,” she said, laughing at her own joke immediately after.

Crystal found herself chuckling along and automatically agreeing with Heidi - she was sure that money like that would solve all of her problems. But she was reluctant to say so, and she wasn’t quite sure why.

“You’d better not keep her waiting, Crystal,” Jan prompted, handing over the fresh pint of beer and a tall glass of pink lemonade, which had a pink straw and crushed ice and a strawberry and slice of lemon on the rim. Crystal thought that it should have one of those mini cocktail umbrellas too, but she supposed that would’ve been a little overkill.

Gently balancing the drinks on her cart, she nodded in thanks to the girls, promising to meet them on their lunch break, and started wheeling it out the double doors, back towards the pool and the sun loungers.

Back towards miss Goode.

She wasn’t entirely sure that the colour of her face had settled by now, but she hoped that she wouldn’t be able to tell from behind her sunglasses. She told herself the nerves that were building in her chest were because of this girl’s social status, and definitely not because she was pretty. Definitely not. That didn’t even cross Crystal’s mind. She didn’t even need to tell herself that looking at a customer like that was a bad idea, and that miss Goode was probably straight, and that she’d never think twice about dating an employee. No, of course not. That would be stupid.

As she walked ever closer, Crystal was psyching herself up, telling herself to stop being an awkward mess and just be cool. Act natural. All she had to do was hand her the glass without making it too obvious that she was nervous. Easy. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. (And, avoid staring at her in that bathing suit, which was significantly less easy peasy lemon squeezy).

Before she knew it, she was a couple steps away from her. This was it. Just hand her the drink and get out of there. She could do this.

The girl turned to face Crystal when she saw her coming, offering her a smile. And then, she reached up and took off her sunglasses. And Crystal got a glimpse of her eyes for the first time. They were a piercing icy blue, and they twinkled in the sunshine, and Crystal didn’t want to take her eyes off of them.

Crystal fumbled on her cart and grabbed a glass, handing it to Gigi, not wanting to break eye contact for a second. She may have only been holding eye contact for a few seconds, but Crystal was captivated, swimming in her gaze.

And then, the girl looked downwards, and her face fell, and for just a second, Crystal’s heart dropped. Her brows furrowed. She looked confused.

And then Crystal realised she hadn’t handed the girl her pink lemonade, but the pint of beer.

Crap.

“Usually I get ID’d before someone serves me alcohol,” the girl said with a cocky smirk.

“Oh, uh, sorry!”

Crystal felt the heat rushing to her cheeks as she fumbled to fix her mistake, practically shoving the pink drink in her free hand as panic caught in her throat. She had one job. One simple job. She snatched the pint glass away from her with shaky hands.

And then, she dropped it.

“Shit!”

The glass miraculously didn’t smash, but its contents were spilt all over the poolside tiles.

This was all she needed.

Crystal sighed, just desolately staring at her reflection at the puddle of beer for a few seconds as an overwhelming feeling of for fuck’s sake overtook her. She groaned, flailing her arms like a toddler throwing a tantrum. She heard the girl beside her start to chuckle with that stupid cocky smirk still plastered on her face, perching on the edge of the sun lounger and looking up at Crystal.

“You know, someone should really clean that up,” she said, flashing Crystal a grin. “It’s a slipping hazard.”

Crystal rolled her eyes. “We’re by a pool, everywhere’s a slipping hazard,” she said, but she fumbled for the towel that she had tucked into her apron pocket anyways, kneeling down to wipe it up.

The girl giggled at that, leaning back against her chair with her crossed legs outstretched before her (which Crystal definitely didn’t find herself staring at). “You didn’t strike me as the type to talk back, but I’m pleasantly surprised,” she said, taking an obnoxiously loud slurp through her pink bendy straw.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Most of the staff here are no fun. I think they’re all afraid I’m gonna get them fired or something,” she said with a shrug. “You seem fun though.”

Crystal felt herself blush, but this time she wasn’t embarrassed. She was smiling. “Well, God didn’t give me this incredible personality to be quiet.”

The girl laughed, tucking a lock of her dark chocolate brown hair behind her ear. Crystal couldn’t help but take notice of the way she stuck her tongue out just a little as she giggled, and it made her smile, too. She giggled like a little girl, and it seemed like such a contrast to her effortless chic-ness. Crystal found it endearing. And very cute.

“I haven’t seen you around here before, have I?” the girl said. Her eyes scanned Crystal’s face, and Crystal tried to focus on wiping up the spilt drink because she was sure that if she caught another glance at the girl’s doll eyes looking directly at her, her brain would start shutting down.

“I don’t think so,” Crystal replied. “I only started here about a week ago.”

“I thought so,” the girl hummed, before taking another sip from her glass. “I think I would’ve remembered you.”

Crystal could’ve swallowed her own tongue at that. Instead she clenched her jaw and continued cleaning, keeping her lips firmly shut to make sure she didn’t say something stupid.

“So what’s your name then?”

“Crystal,”

“Nice to meet you, Crystal,” the girl said with a quick raise of her eyebrows.

“Nice to meet you too, uh-.”

“Gigi,” the girl said with a smile.

“Gigi,” Crystal replied, seeing how her name felt on her tongue, and recalling the name Jan had mentioned earlier. Gigi Goode. It felt right, she thought. It suited her. It definitely seemed like a rich girl name, and as far as rich girls came, this girl was supposedly in a league of her own. Though Crystal tried not to think about that - her massive sunglasses and her perfect model body were already intimidating enough.

Not that Crystal was thinking about her body or anything. Especially not about how good it looked in that pretty swimsuit.

Of course not.

Once she had the beer all mopped up, Crystal tossed the soaked towel over her shoulder, picking up the desolate pint glass from the ground and placing it on her beer cart, still in awe of how it didn’t smash on the outdoor tiles. She supposed the universe had felt bad for her - she’d had quite enough beer issues for today, and the last thing she needed was broken glass to deal with, too.

The knowledge that she’d have to go back for yet another beer for that lying bastard, though, made her want to throw the glass at a brick wall.

She felt frustration build up in her chest at the thought, and sighed. Perhaps a little too loudly, though, as Gigi seemed to pick up in it.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

“Ugh, I just have to go get this annoying guy another beer now,” Crystal replied with a roll of her eyes.

“How is he annoying?”

Crystal probably shouldn’t be saying this to the daughter of the country club owner, but fuck it, she needed to vent. “There’s a group of them, actually. They always yell at me and pretend I got their order wrong so they can get another free beer. I know it’s not that bad, but it just rubs me the wrong way.”

Crystal looked at Gigi, whose face had changed to one of shock and anger, her mouth hanging open slightly and her eyebrows furrowed. She stayed silent for a second, before standing up from her sun lounger, scanning the pool area. “Who was it?”

“That guy over there, in the blue polo shirt,” Crystal said, gesturing towards him.

Gigi nodded, her eyes narrowing. Crystal saw her clutch her glass tightly, her knuckles turning white. “Oh. Him,” she said, her voice stoic. “I know him. Well, I guess I won’t be needing the rest of my drink!” she said, and with that, she was off, quickly marching to the spot where the man stood.

Before Crystal had time to comprehend what was happening, Gigi was face to face with the man, and Crystal was frozen in her spot, her feet stuck to the ground a few meters away from them.

She heard Gigi’s voice yell something, and then she was throwing her pink lemonade in the man’s face.

He was drenched, and Crystal had to cover her mouth to suppress her laughter.

Crystal half expected the now dripping man to start yelling, screaming at Gigi like he had screamed at her. But instead he remained silent, not looking angry, but more at a loss for words, before he trudged off grumpily, presumably to get changed.

When her eyes darted away from the man, Gigi was nowhere to be seen. But even so, she still found herself grinning like a fool.

And, when her manager called her to clean up the spilt pink lemonade by the pool, she was more than happy to oblige.

#rpdr fanfiction #crygi #crystal methyd #gigi goode #heidi n closet #jan sport #peridot #fluff #angst #lesbian au #tw: homophobia but not in this chapter #concrit welcome #submission #summer lovin' 2020 #day 1: bathing suit

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numba99 · 5 years

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Fatal Attraction

Summary: When a mysterious man shows up at your job, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to him - and him to you. But behind the beautiful face is the dark lifestyle of a man who has made his wealth through becoming the most powerful drug dealer in the city. Word count: 2.7k

Song (new thing I wanna try for this series first song is the general ~vibe~ im going for with this) Him & I by Halsey and G-eazy

Warnings: OKAY SO this is gonna be a long one. Obviously this whole fic is going to have drug mentions in it. I want to be clear that I am not trying to glamorize/condone drug usage. We are all adults and can make decisions on how we feel about that kind of stuff on our own. This is merely a work of fiction and I completely respect you choosing not to read it for whatever reason. I am not 100% sure what’s going to come out as a I write this but I imagine there will be mentions of violence (though I have no plans nor interests in writing about violence explicitly), smut, weapons, etc. I will put more specific warnings on each part, but I wanted to give a general idea so you don’t start something you wouldn’t be comfortable finishing. okay thats enough of that, let’s get to the good stuff.

It was a Friday night like any other. You stepped out on to your personal stage for the night, wrapping you hand around the silver pole in the center. It was cold and familiar, the sensation always flipped a switch in you. It was time to work. A slow, sexy R&B song spilled out of the speakers as you began a sultry walk around the pole. You noted the faces in the crowd, painted blue by the clubs low, mood lighting. They all melted together, a sea of desperate men with fantasies playing in their heads. Then you spotted him.

He showed up a little over a month ago, and since then has came in week after week. He always sat in the back, always by your stage. You had some frequent flyers, but no one like this, no one like him. He didn’t so much as look at any of the other dancers. He was there for you, you could feel that even from across the room.

And yet, you never felt uncomfortable by his presence. In fact, you looked forward to it. You couldn’t be certain, but you thought he was keeping at an eye out for you. You noticed he was always with another man, who was suited and stood behind him. If a patron got too in your face, he’d whisper to the man he was with, who’d then pull aside whoever was bothering you. Without fail they scampered away every time. You never heard what was said, but the look on the other guys face told you it wasn’t very kind.

He tipped handsomely as well, though he never put the money on you. While the other men would clamor to slide single dollar bills in your lingerie, he’d have his “sidekick,” as you dubbed him, lay a single hundred dollar bill stage after every song... and then drop off a few hundreds before he left for the night. Some nights he'd tip you more than you could make in a week.

Though his presence seemed benevolent enough, you were a bit cautious of him. You wondered what this mystery man wanted, why he was watching you. In this industry, you learn to become suspicious of men that pay too much attention to you. You’ve dealt with many creeps in your time stripping, and you wondered if he was just rich and shy, waiting to build up the nerve to make a move on you and hoping the money he was dropping would soften you up.

As fate would have it, tonight would be the night you’d get your answer.

Your club’s manager Rick, who was as sleazy as sleazy gets called you off the stage for a private room booking. When you were lucky, or unlucky depending on how you looked at it, a man would book you for some time in one of the private areas. During this time you were either giving him a lap dance, or worse, acting like his therapist. You lost count of the amount of times you got alone with a man and he just broke down crying about his wife or shitty life or something you didn’t care about. It was a 50/50, but you put up with because they made you good money.

“Who’s the lucky man?” you deadpanned.

“The dude back there,” Rick replied, nodded to your mystery man. You cocked a brow, shocked that he was requesting alone time with you when he hasn’t so much as sat front row for one of your dances. You had no idea what to expect, but you had a strange feeling growing in your stomach that there was more than meets the eye with this man. You never really got nervous for these things anymore, it was just part of the job, but something about finally being face to face with him was making your heart thud.

“Put on a good show for him would ya? Man spends a lot when he is here. Don’t need you fucking it up,” Rick said as he chomped on a stale-smelling sandwich.

“What room?” you asked, ignoring his stupid comments.

“Three. Get naked if he wants, I want that money y/n,” Rick replied. You turned around flipping him the middle finger as you walked away. It was supposed to be club rules that your bottoms always stay on... and it was also supposed to be club rules that guys weren’t allowed to touch you outside the private rooms. However, Rick could turn a blind eye if money was being made for him.

You knew you were at the right room, the sidekick was standing outside like a guard. He stepped aside for you without word, allowing you inside. Odd, but you’ve seen enough weird shit here that it didn't phase you. The door clicked shut and you spun around, finding the mystery man alone on the cushioned booth. The lights were low, but you could see him so much better now. His hair was slicked back into a low bun, face framed by a well taken care of beard. You couldn’t tell the exact color of his eyes in the lighting, but they were mesmerizing even from a distance.

“Sit,” he said softly, patting the spot next to him. You approached cautiously, keeping your eyes on him the entire time. It always raised your suspicion when a man didn’t ask you get on top of him right away.

“Please don’t tell me you’re one of those dudes who’s going to tell me I’m too good for this and you want to save my soul,” you said as you sat next to them. You’ve gotten a few of those holier-than-thou types in your time here. It was funny how when you told them you were not interested in being “saved” they still wanted a lap dance.

“I don’t think you’re someone who needs to be saved,” the stranger replied simply. Interesting.

“What do you want then?” you questioned.

“I’d love to know your name,” he replied, “ Your real name.”

You weren’t supposed to give out your real name at the club, but Rick never followed his own rules, why should you. Besides, he did say to give him what he wants.“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

He cocked a grin, laughing lightly. “I’m Mika.”

“Mika,” you repeated, your voice just above a whisper. You weren’t sure why, but it felt like such a victory to know this man’s name.

“Sounds a lot prettier coming from you,” He commented, “And yours?” He tilted his head slightly as he looked at you, sending your stomach to your feet. Closer up you could see his eyes were a rich hazel. They seemed to pierce through you; you felt exposed under his gaze... and not just because you were in lingerie and he was fully dressed. You almost felt as if he knew what you were going to say before you could get the words out.

“Y/n,” you told him.

“Beautiful name,” he replied, “Fitting.” Mika had an innate charm to him, making all his words sound so much sweeter. His comment was simple, cliché really, yet it brought a blush to your cheeks.

“Is there something I can do for you?” you asked, trying to remember why you were here.

“I’d like to take you out,” Mika replied, “If you’d like of course.”

Of course you would, but it wasn’t that easy. “I’m on shift for another couple hours,” you told him.

“Let me see what I can do,” Mika replied. Before you had a chance to ask what he meant by that, he called in his sidekick, who’s name you learned was Chris. Mika whispered something in his ear, handing him a thick wad of cash. Chris walked away without a word and Mika smiled at you. “Give it a minute.”

You weren’t sure what to make of all this, but you didn't really have time to process it. Just moments later Chris was back. “You're free to go whenever you want y/n,” Chris informed you. Of course, Rick never met a pile of cash he didn’t like.

“So what do you say?” Mika asked, flashing a warm smile. How could say no?

“Let me get changed,” You replied, standing up, “But just so you know, this club is filled with cameras. If you’re planning to take me somewhere and kill me or something, everyone is going to know it was you so don’t bother.” Felt like good measure to add that in.

Mika chuckled, “You’re smart, I like that. But don’t worry y/n, you’re safe with me.” You had no reason to believe him, but for some reason you did. He told you he’d be waiting outside his car for you, and with that you went back to the dressing room. You wished you had worn something nicer than just a pair of jeans and an old tee, but nothing you could do about that now.

You hurried out, not wanting to bump into Rick and deal with any of his stupidity. You were giddy as you stepped out on to the street, feeling like you were playing hooky in high school. Mika was right where he said he would be, leaning against a blacked out SUV. It looked sleek and expensive, much like him.

“Uber black?” You questioned.

Mika chuckled, “No, it’s mine.” Damn, who the hell had room for a car like this in the city? Mika helped you into the back of the car, the front occupied by the driver and Chris.

“Do you always travel with a pose?” you asked.

Mika pressed a button in side panel of the door and a divider went up, separating the two of you from the pair in the front. “Now it’s just me and you.”

“Still doesn’t answer my question,” you noted.

“Fair enough,” Mika replied with a hint of a smirk, “Typically Chris is always with me and the driver comes with the car so if you consider that a pose, then yes.”

“More people than I travel with,” you replied, “And who is Chris to you?”

“A friend,” he replied simply. Right, because everyone’s friends follow them around like a guard dog, you thought. You didn't want to push him too much, he was still a stranger after all.

“You’re good at not answering questions,” you noted, looking out the window. “Do I at least get to know where we are going?”

“Well the only places open right now are-”

“Bars and strip clubs,” you answered for him.

“Right,” Mika nodded.

“Well if it doesn’t make a difference to you I’d prefer a bar,” you replied.

“I had a feeling you were going to say that,” Mika smiled, “How about one drink at the next bar we pass? I don’t want to keep you too late.”

“I’m good with that,” you nodded. Being that it was New York, the next bar popped up right away. Mika had the driver pull over and let told him to wait here as he helped you out of the car. Chris asked if he should come in with you guys, which you thought was a bit strange, but thankfully Mika told him he’d be fine on his own.

The bar was a small, a real hole-the-wall type place. The guests didn’t look too savory, but they were all far into their drinks to notice you. Mika sat you down at the furthest end of the bar, away from everyone else. The bar tendered begrudgingly asked what you two wanted, though you didn’t blame him for the attitude. You guessed you met similar people in your lines of work, so you totally understood.

“Just a vodka soda with extra lime, please,” you told him.

“Have you a got a vodka preference?” Mika asked.

You let out a short laugh, “Whatever’s cheapest.”

Mika bit back a smile, turning back to the bartender, “Whiskey neat for me. Give us whatever the best stuff on your top shelf is.” He tossed down a hundred on the bar top. That changed the guy’s mood.

“Of course, sir,” he scooped up the bill and scurried off.

“You toss around hundreds like they’re single dollar bills,” you said.

Mika shrugged, “I like to be generous.”

“A generous man with a great job,” you replied as the bartender placed the drinks in front of you two.

Mika smirked as his lips touched the glass, as if you’d shared some inside joke. “You could say that.”

“So what is it then? What do you do?” you asked, sipping your drink. You knew you were supposed to think it was so much better because it was the fancy stuff but to you vodka was well... vodka.

“I’m in business,” he replied simply.

“Oh come on,” you rolled your eyes, “That’s like me just saying I dance.”

“Does the distinction really matter?” Mika asked.

“Yeah, because people might assume I’m a Rockette meanwhile I’m just a stripper in a shitty club,” you replied before taking another long sip. Okay maybe there was something to this fancy shit.

“But either way you are still a dancer, so the statement isn’t false. Why not let people believe what they want?” Mika replied.

You let out a groan, “You’re impossible. But you are good at that thing you’re doing.”

“What thing I’m doing?” Mikas asked laughing lightly.

“The whole dodging questions with other questions thing,” you replied taking a swig of your drink. You were almost done with it; it went down smooth despite the familiar burn.

“But not good enough for you not to notice,” Mika pointed out.

“Definitely not,” you shook your head, “Nothing gets past me.”

“We’ll see about that,” Mika mumbled into his glass.

“Will we?”

“Maybe,” Mika replied, “If you go out with me again.”

“So I have to go out with you to get answers?” you questioned.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Mika replied, “But if you want to get to know me more, a second date would be a good place to start. That’s typically how these things work.” He added the last part in with a teasing grin.

“Touché,” you replied, “I’ll go out with you again.” Not just because you wanted to know more about what he does, though that was a motivator, you were just so intrigued by him.

“Lucky me,” he smiled. With that you both finished up and Mika left another generous tip. As you walked out of the bar, his hand found your lower back. You could feel the warmth through your shirt; it spread through your body weakening you in the knees.

He settled next to you in the car, closer than he had before. You suddenly caught a whiff of his scent, an intoxicating mix of earthy-warmth with just the slightest hint of sweetness. You found yourself staring at his neck, wishing you could burry your face into it and drink in the scent as you kissed at his skin.

“Your number?” You shook yourself back to reality, realizing Mika had been speaking to you. The way he looked at you made you feel like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, a blush rising to your cheeks as you took the phone from his hands. You tapped in your name and number before handing it back to him, resolving to not let yourself get so wrapped up in him like that. At least not while he was there to witness it.

“Well it was nice to finally meet you,” Mika said as the car came to a stop outside your apartment.

“Likewise,” you replied, hopping out. You turned around, allowing yourself one last look at him.

“I’ll be in touch about our date. Have a nice night y/n,” Mika replied.

“You too, Mika.”

You let out a long sigh as you made your way up to your place. You felt like you needed a drink more now than you did before that date. There was something about Mika that you couldn’t quite put your finger on that felt dangerous. Not that you ever felt unsafe with him, it was the opposite actually, but being with him felt like an adrenaline rush almost. Like you were doing something you weren't supposed to. Whatever it was, you knew there was more to this man than meets the eye. And you were determined to find out exactly what that was.

#fatal attraction #mika zibanejad imagine #mika zibanejad smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagines #new york rangers imagine #new york rangers smut #m zibanejad

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rezdogsyonder · 5 years

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Not Like You Think

Pairing: The Powered!Reader is married to an OC the marvel characters come in later.

Summary: You and your family are in trouble. What lengths will you go to keep them safe? Go against the Avengers? A gang infamous among CIA?

Warnings: Robbery, breaking the law, lying, murder, cheating

A/N: the reader is like early 20’s, married young to high school sweetheart. With a 3 year old. The reader has super strength, is bulletproof, and is influential. Like kilgrave but can turn it off. Also: didn’t expect it to be so long.. sorry! Couldn’t get back to present day in this chapter

**********

You don’t know how it got to this.

That’s a lie. You do, but you didn’t mean for it to get this messy.

They’re almost here. You need to leave. They’re not close to being done though. The car is waiting. It’s running. They’re probably gonna see you leaving if they’re here quick enough.

We could hide. Blend in. Yeah, that could work.

**********

2 weeks before.

“Honey? What time you gonna be home tonight?” You yelled from the kitchen. Your preparing your babies diaper bag for daycare.

“Right around 8:30 ish? Maybe 9. They pretty much don’t let you take more overtime after 9.” He peaked out the door while doing his tie. He walked over to the counter and began eating the food you prepared for him.

“I’ll keep some food in the fridge for you.” You walked by kidding him on the cheek.

You walk over to the bedroom and to the bed, “Come on baby, time to wake up.” She just rolls over and shoved her face in the covers. “Come on sleepy buns, it’s early enough that you can have cereal.”

That got her sitting up, she reaches out to you and you oblige, bringing her to the kitchen.

“How’s my nakey baby?” Christopher smiles poking her belly. She giggles a little bit but she’s still trying to fight it, still wanting to go to sleep.

You put her in her chair and pour some cereal in the tray. You grabbed her soft little brush and put her hair in two little pigtails.

“See you tonight. Love ya. Love you too my little bean.”

“Love you. See you.” You say halfheartedly, grabbing Leia’s clothes for today.

You hear the door slam. Getting her dressed quickly and grabbing her diaper bag and an extra outfit, you’re soon following.

**********

“Leia is at daycare, they close at 4:30, so I’ll need to leave at 4:15, drop her off with Joey, and head back to work.” You say to yourself in your car. You park in the one employee parking spot that is left and walk inside.

It’s not much, but this restaurant has been the only place that would hire you. It’s kinda like a subway, but for burritos and tacos, and the place tips well. Especially in the Summer, which is approaching right now. Pretty soon you’ll have to find a different place for Leia to stay. The daycare you go to only works during the school year.

You have your apron on and hat to cover your hairnet, but you see your day going down the drain when you see your least favorite person. The store owner. The one person you hate because, for some reason, he sees you as a threat. Maybe because the franchise owner almost gave this place to you. Yeah, gave. Guessing he found out from another manager in another store, he went to the franchise owner and laid down daddy’s money.

Why was he even working here if he was rich? Honestly you think he just has a personal vendetta against you. He has hated you since junior year.

“Ugh what are you doing here?” He said in disgust.

“How professional, Jamie.”

“I don’t need to be professional, I’m the boss Y/N.” He smirked smugly. “Just in case you’ve forgotten.”

A customer walks in, saving you from having to speak to him. You try to serve them fast, but slowly too because once they’re sitting at their table, Jamie is just gonna berate you for nothing. Like always.

“Who is the one that worked shifts last night? Hmm?”

“That was me and Matt.”

“What is this?”he holds his hand up.

“A bill?” It was 100. We catered a small party yesterday, probably about 20 people but that 20 brought guests.

“A counterfeit.”

“Well we used the pen thingy on every big bill that we get.”

“No you don’t. Cause then you would have realized it was counterfeit.” The door swings open and you expect a customer but Matt walks in.

“Matt tell him we always use pens on big bills”

“We use the pen on big bills. Every time, a habit we’ve gotten from you docking our pay a billion dollars.” Matt said immediately jumping on your side. A bit monotonous and you suspect it’s because of the bags under his eyes.

“If you used the pen then you would have known it was COUNTERFEIT.” He’s starting to lose his shit. Unprofessional as always. “I will dock you both 50 from your paychecks.”

“You’re so... ugh. You know that $50 is nearly a full shift.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Give me the bill.” Holding out your hand. He looks at you suspiciously before handing it over. You grab the pen from the register and write over it.

You hold the bill out in front of you mockingly. “Did you use an actual marker?” Showing the yellow marks.

His face goes beet red and Matt is about to laugh, trying to hold it back. Jamie just took out his own marker and marks the bill, the color turning a dark blue.

“See?”

“Well then this is on you. Maybe you should quit being cheep and get us more detector pens.”

You cross your arms, and Matt can’t can’t hold it back and he’s giggling quietly. You know Jamie is trying to find a way to pin it on you.

Jamie opened his mouth to say something, but he sighed and walked away. Matt fist bumps you.

“You know one of these days he’s gonna get what’s coming to him.”

“That would be the dream. But right now he is our boss so we gotta dream while we work, come on. We gotta prep the pico and quac.”

The two of you continued your days work in peace, getting a couple regulars. It was a bit busier today than usual, you don’t know what caused it though. You even had to ask Christopher to pick up Leia.

Pretty soon the last group of people left their table and were leaving the restaurant. These guys were really polite, cleaning up after themselves too.

“You get front, I’ll get kitchen and food?” Matt offered.

“Yep, I’ll get the ice ready for you.” You grab an empty bean bin and a plastic knife from your station and walk around to the fountain machine. You jam the knife in the ice dispenser and go to get the mop bucket from the back.

Once back there you hear arguing, they’re shouting and it sounds like they’re through the back door. The door to drop off garbage. You try to hear better by pressing your ear against the door. One of the voices is Jamie.

“Excuse m—”

“JESUS!” It was just Matt. He has a bag of garbage.

“Huho sorry Y/N. ‘Xcuse.” You put your hand on his chest stopping him.

“Here I can take it.” You hold your hand out, he shrugs and gives you the bag. It was warm from the unused meat from today. You scrunched your nose for a second before heading outside.

The arguing stopped as soon as you opened the door. You saw Jamie and a man you recognized as a regular. He’s kinda too attractive to forget. Long brown hair, but it suited him, especially in the man bun he has right now. He was actually apart of the group that just left.

“Hey.” You wave to the customer, “what are you still doing here Jamie?” You said in a less enthusiastic tone. You walk over to the garbage can. Quickly before the meat burned through the heavy duty bag. It wasn’t fun to clean up.

“Just dealing with business Y/N, just head back in.” He snapped. You heave the heavy bag over the edge and into the garbage.

“Whatever you say,” you put your hands up in mock surrender. “Have a good night.” You say to the man with him.

“You too, ma’am.” He took his hand out of his pocket to wave, his shiny glove glinting in the moonlight. ‘It’s nearly summer.’ You thought, but he was still in a long sleeved jacket and gloves apparently.

You went back inside to continue your work, but that weird altercation stayed in your mind. Consuming your thoughts. Matt has the beans cooled back down, good thing because you had forgotten about the ice, he caught it before it started overflowing.

You’re done with the food heaters, the steamer, the tips, and the till. You’re pulling out the garbage from by the front door when you hear a loud bang outside. You go in the kitchen to see Matt.

“What was that?” You keep walking towards the back.

“Y/N I don’t think you should go out there, they’ll probably hit you in the face with a fircracker... Shitkids.”

“Well, yeah but the garbage.” You open the door, or try at least. Something was blocking it.

“Matt? Can you open this?” You push on the door to emphasize your need, even though he can’t see from where he is. Whoever it was probably stacked stuff on the other side. Garbage most likely.

“Yeah, coming.” He walked around you and tried pushing on the door. Even he struggles with the door, which kind of surprised you with him being kinda buff.

The door is open just enough for you to get out and the two of you hear a groan. You and Matt exchange a glance before you squeeze through the door, him trying to pull you back in.

It’s too dark to see anything, the moon had moved higher and maybe behind some clouds, you can’t make out many shapes. You’re holding the heavy bag with two hands so you swing it into the garbage can and grabbed your phone.

“Turn on your flash, cause holy fuck I can’t see anything.” Matt asks, he’s just getting through. The door closing behind him, making it even darker than before.

“K just a second.” You get it on but the phone is having trouble reading your fingers. Whatever liquid was on your hand preventing it. You wipe your phone on your boob and your hand on your hip, it finally reads.

Once you see, the sight has you and Matt standing in shock. It was a body, face down and covered in blood. A good ten seconds has passed before Matt reacts and jumps to the other side of the person.

“Y/N call 911!”

“Yeah.... right.” You dial the number while keeping the light on the two of them. Your slow with your actions, this situation feeling as if it weren’t real. Not paying attention to the monotone voice at the other end, “Get to TacoTacos on main please hurry, send an ambulance.” You keep them on the line, answering the woman’s questions absentmindedly.

“Does he have a pulse?”

Matt’s hands were already on his throat feeling for one. After a couple seconds he shakes his head.

“No, he doesn’t.”

Matt tucks the man’s arm and rolls him over. It was Jamie. He begins cpr.

“It’s my boss. His name is Jamie Ness. I.. I think he was shot.”

“Don’t worry ma’am help is on the way. They should be there in a couple minutes.”

Yep, this wasn’t real. You look away. At the far corner of the shop is a man standing there. He was the man that Jamie was arguing with. He brought one finger to his lips, smiled, and disappeared behind the corner.

**********

“Do you know anybody that would want to do harm to Mr.Ness?” The police officer asks.

“Who wouldn’t?” You look at the paramedic then at the officer, “Sorry, I know it isn’t good to say, but I haven’t seen one person that got along with Jamie.” You pull the blanket tighter around you.

“Do you know what Jamie was doing back there?”

You look the the corner where you saw the man. The paramedic straps that tightening thing around your arm. “No, he might’ve been coming back, but after yelling at us I wouldn’t think he would.... he’s not the kind of person to apologize or say he was wrong. Yenno?” You feel a stethescope being pressed to your chest.

“Mmhmm” he hums, writing in his notepad before slapping it shut, “I should let you go for now, here’s my card. If you remember anything, call me.”

His card said Carl Cohen, and had his number. You nod and tuck it into your apron.

“You’re good to go. I thought you had shock, and you’re blood pressure was a little low and your heart rate was a little high, but nothing too bad.”

The paramedic takes his cuff off of you and you hand him back the blanket. You walk over to Matt who was sitting on the curb. He was looking at the blood on his hands.

“Come ‘ere.” You pull at his elbow. He looks up, you see the tears looking in his eyes. He stands up reluctantly.

You lead him back into the shop. Through the front this time. Bringing him to the sink. You wash his hands for him. It seems he’s the way you were earlier. The blood stained his skin. You do what you can for now.

You lead him back out the front and tell him to get in the car. He usually hitched a ride with you anyways. You run back and switch off all the lights, also writing a note for the opening crew that said call you and you’d explain why the closing didn’t close all the way.

Running back to the car you’re heart breaks when you see him. He’s just looking out the window as tear roll down his cheeks. You shut your door and his attention switches to you, before switching back to the window.

“Do you want to come over to my place?” You offer, thinking he shouldn’t be alone right now.

He nods back to you.

The ride was quiet.

You get to your driveway and notice that an unfamiliar car is parked in front. You park beside Chris’s car.

You open the door for Matt and usher him to the closest bathroom. Grabbing hydrogen peroxide from the mirror, you spray his hands with it. The stains washing away with it. You could tell he feels a little bit better now that he can’t see it, but it’s still bad.

“Hold on.” You rush to your room, upstairs, as quietly as you can so you don’t wake up Leia. You burst into your room, only to find Christopher and a woman in bed.

You stop for a second and you’re shocked, honestly, but Matt is downstairs. You glare and point at your stammering husband “You’re fucking lucky that I can’t deal with this right now.” You grab the shirt you stole from Matt when you were roommates a couple years ago and a pair of your pajama pants from when you were pregnant and huge.

You run back down to Matt. He’s still in the same spot you left him. You place the clothes in his lap and step past him to turn on the shower.

“Clean up. Take as long as you need. I’ll just be outside. ‘Kay?” You kiss him on the forehead.

You leave and softly close the door. Upstairs, the first door on the left is Leia’s room. She’s still in her crib, sleeping face down. You grab another blanket and place it on top of her. She’s practically in a coma if she’s warm.

You close the door softly before going back to your room.

“Well good to see you clothed!” You gesture to the other woman. You know it’s not really her fault, but you’re angry. You pull her closer. “Did you know he was married? Tell the truth.” Using your powers on her.

“No, and I’m really so sorry. He just told me he was a single dad.” She rushed past you, seemingly embarrassed.

“Are you serious?” You’re trying to stay calm. Not wanting to get to angry. “In our house. In our bed. With our baby in the next room?” Each sentence accentuated with one step closer to him.

“You said you couldn’t get out of work, that you were gonna have a late close.”

“So this is justified?” You gesture to the bed.

“I—ugh, I—“ he steps back for every step you take closer.

“Spit it out.” venom lacing your words. He’s backed into the corner.

“We—ugh—we haven’t been together in a while. Um and just, I—”

“Get out.” Not wanting to hear more. You’re backing away now, knowing what happens when you get too angry. Not even he knows, but now you guess he never will.

“What?”

“Get out. It’s that simple. Leave”

“Where will I go? What about Leia?”

“I don’t care, and if you cared about Leia so much then you wouldn’t have done this.” You said matter of factly.

“But—“

“Nope!” You cut him off. “Get out, and don’t you dare think of waking her.”

Knowing him, he’ll stomp throughout the house just to make things hard for you. He seems to always do that when he loses the argument. You watch him step past you and out the bedroom door. You follow, making sure he actually leaves.

Once downstairs you can see he heard the shower going. He grabs his keys and turns to you.

He points to the door then back to you, “Youre such a fucking hypocrite.”

“No, I am not.” You whisper yelled. You began pushing him out the door.

Once he’s fully out you close the door behind him, trying not to slam it, and lock it. You turn around and lean against the door, you hear his car start up and leave. You feel tears welling up in your eyes, you shut them tightly.

This isn’t going to be easy.

#marvel #avengers #powered!reader #marvel fanfiction #not like you think #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes

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