#it's a zombie show so expect the usual things that come with that

[ofnailbatsandaxefives]

By clicking the links below you will find #682 gifs of Nat Zang in Z Nation Season 5. He is white (German, Irish, Scottish, English). Do not use in gif hunts or make icons. Remember to please like and reblog if you decide to use.  

Part One / Part Two

[spooky-luvur]

Eyeless Jack x m!Reader Pt. 2

(A/N i didn’t reread this at all so sorry if something doesn’t make sense. that’s usually the case ha)

Shivering even under the thick blanket, you run your fingers over the sore scar tissue. Part of you is scared if you move wrong or press too hard the skin will split open and stain your sheets. Maybe he smells blood. Like a shark.

Freak, you think to yourself.

A sudden knock at your door makes you jolt and freeze up in pain. You yell at whoever’s at the door to wait a moment as you pretty much fall off the couch to tug some clothes on.

Your hand pauses over the doorknob for a stiff moment. What if you open it and he’s there? Will he take your other kidney? Or maybe your liver this time. Forget shark, is this guy a zombie? You force yourself to open the door.

“Hello, dear. How are you?”

You relax against the frame and smile tiredly at the woman.

“Hey Miss Zhao. I should be asking you that.”

She shuffles past you to set a casserole dish on the table next to the door.

“Oh, I’m alright. Jack is good company, you know.”

“Jack?” You echo, folding your arms against your chest- subtly wincing in pain as the movement pulls on the raw skin. “Is that the new neighbor? I saw them in the lobby the other day, I think.”

Miss Zhao laughs and waves her hand.

“No, not them.”

Your brow burrows but the smile doesn’t drop from your face until a figure steps into view behind the stout woman. Your side aches at the sight.

He has the nerve to casually wave at you.

You stutter as Miss Zhao says something about feeding time and goes back to her room, leaving you with the very thing that’s been haunting you like a ghost.

“Hey,” he greets.

“Wha-“ Is all you allow yourself to say before promptly slamming the door shut. You stand there for a few moments, half expecting the man to open it and thrust a knife at you. But he never does, and the door stays firmly shut. You find yourself glaring at the poor wood before stomping away.

A nice shower, you think. Thats exactly what I need.

You strip yourself of what little clothes you were wearing. Grumbling, you pivot to the bathroom hallway and come to an abrupt halt. There he stands, hands in his pockets. How is that even fucking possible?

You stare at each other in silence before his head tilts down not-so-subtly.

“Nice,” is all he says.

It takes you a moment to realize this masked murderer that literally took one of your organs the other week is currently scrutinizing you.

“FUCK you!” You cross your arms over your chest which is about all you can do at the moment. “What the hell do you want? My other one?”

“Not today.” He frees one of his hands to point at you. “How is it? The scar.”

You subconsciously reach down to mess with the puckered skin.

“Fine, no thanks to you.”

“It is thanks to me, actually.”

“What?” You hiss.

“Well, it was me that fixed you up instead of leaving you to bleed out on the floor like a hog.” He shrugs his broad shoulders.

“Ugh, right,” you rub a hand down your face, exasperated, “the tub. The damn ice. What the hell even was that? Who does that?”

“Do you really want to know why I took it?”

“You’re a psychopath that won’t even show his face. My guess? You’ll be caught as soon as next week.”

The man does that stupid quiet laugh again and lowers himself onto your plush sofa.

“Kick up your feet why don’t you! Make yourself comfortable. Actually, get the fuck out.”

He folds his hands in his lap like he’s about to have a very nice conversation with your mother “I think I’ll stay.”

You’re about to snap at him again, start yelling, maybe throwing things, but you choke on the words as you remember exactly who you’re about to lash out at. This man who is obviously stronger, faster, and smarter than you (and has no problem proving it) is giving you little to no options. Part of you doubts he would hurt you again, but what’s stopping him? Nothing.

So you bite your tongue and simply glare. After hesitating a few moments longer you turn away to go take your well needed shower.

Jack pulls out his (untraceable, courtesy of a ffffffffriend) phone once you round the corner. His mouth twitches in annoyance at the messages on the cracked screen.

B:

wya?

B:

wyd

B:

you ar not supplied to be out today

supposed

Jack:

ben

B:

ohhhh i get it

B:

its that guy

Jack:

ben

B:

dont worry ill keep your secret

Jack feels the need to have eyes to roll as he slips the device back into his pocket. God forbid that kid keep his thoughts to himself.

“So, I should call the cops. Right? That’s what I should do.” Is what you tell the man relaxing on your couch once you face him again. He looks over at you and you almost shiver at the sight of the goo slowly sliding down the blue face.

“Sure.”

“You’re really confusing, you know?”

“Ha.”

Your eye twitches in annoyance before you give up, heaving a heavy sign and taking a seat in the recliner beside the couch. Your hand absentmindedly wanders to caress the puckered skin of the healing wound.

“Let me see.”

“Huh?”

“The stitches. I can take them out now.”

You eye the man on your couch warily. What is this guy, some kind of doctor?

“You want to…take the stitches out.” You parrot. He nods and stands from his seat and push yourself further into the chair the closer he gets, like a picky child that’s being fed peas.

“You want them out. They’re itching.”

“Are you a doctor or something?” You snap out your previous thought causing him to stop in his tracks. You spot his hands twitch before he stretches his fingers out.

“I know what to do,” Is his reply.

Really, what other choice did you have? Going to the hospital to get undocumented stitches out would raise a few questions…not to mention you’d never be able to pay for it.

“…Fine. But I’ll catch you in the nuts the second you do something funny.”

“Noted.”

You gasp as he grabs you and pulls you up and then a second later you’re laying on your stomach on the couch. You can’t even spit out a retort when he tugs your shirt up to get better access. The cold leather against your bare skin causes you to squirm for a moment before a hand is holding itself against your back.

“Stay still.”

“You-“

He must sense your coming fit and slips his hand to lay gentle but firm across the back of your neck. Words die on your tongue as you go lax like a kitten that’s just been picked up by its mum.

“Whatever…”

You feel his hands poking and prodding before the tug of stitches being cut.

“Is it even ready?” You ask the man who is currently leaning over you on his knees like you’re on an actual operating table.

“It is.”

“But are you sure? If it isn’t healed-“

“It’s healed.”

“You love cutting me off!”

“Hush.”

You resist the urge to kick him in the face.

After a few minutes of silence he leans away, running his fingers across your skin.

“Done?” You crane your neck.

“Yeah.”

“This isn’t very sanitary. I should-“

You sit up and turn to look at him but pause at the sight of his hands retracting. The color makes you gasp and almost fall off the couch to grab him.

“What the fuck?” You hold his arm and push up his sleeve to see more of the man’s skin as he simply watches you basically feel him up.

“I don’t get a lot of sun.”

You glare at him for the joke.

“This is…so weird.” You release him and scrub a hand down your face as you relax into the couch. He takes a seat next to you like you’re two friends catching up. “What’s wrong with you?”

You close your eyes and wish your mouth had been sewn shut instead of your side but he huffs out a laugh and you look at him almost timidly.

“Shit, I didn’t mean- I mean I did but like- okay, I’m done.”

“It’s a long story.”

“Oh yeah? An interesting one?” You lightly pry. Whatever happened for him to look the way he does- for him to be some kind of kidney-stealing grey skinned freak has to be more than ‘oh yeah I got the flu real bad once.’

“Hm…maybe.”

“Are you…gonna tell me? I feel like I’m entitled at this point.”

Jack folds his arms and you hear him hum in (probably fake) contemplation.

“I’ll tell you…once you trust me.”

“Trust you?” You gape at him in disbelief. “Why would I- you tried to kill me!”

“No I didn’t.”

“Then what the hell was this?!” You gesture toward your scarring angrily.

“Not enough to kill you. I could have, though.”

Your mouth clicks shut at the new tone in his voice. Dangerously territory, this conversation. So you drop it.

“Okay. Fine. So…what’s with the goo?”

[anhed-nia]

HANDLING OF THE UNDEAD (Hanteringen av odöda)

There's a certain common experience of comic awkwardness--actually there's even a Mr. Show sketch about it, if I remember correctly--where, after bidding a sincere farewell to someone at the end of an enjoyable night out, you make the unfortunate realization that you're both walking the same way home. Emotionally you are both somewhere else now, "the night" is conceptually over, and now you're trapped together without a script. Although Thea Hvistendahl's feature debut HANDLING THE UNDEAD probably has nothing else in common with Mr. Show, they both ask this same basic question about closure and the persistence of the past. The film concerns three families of the recently re-animated; there's a sort of will they/won't they tension regarding the obvious question of whether these zombies will behave in the traditional manner, but the focus is more strongly on the emotional problem of accepting that things will never again be as they once were.

I think this film is really going to do it for modern horror fans who have come to expect direct explorations of tough topics like grief and trauma. For me personally, I found it highly competent, but a little flat; yes, it is sad, it is VERY sad, it is VERY, VERY SAD, and what more can one really expect? At my screening director Hvistendahl was available for questions, and she candidly confessed that she didn't have any personal experiences with grief to which she could refer--a fact that had no impact on the amount of sniffling in the audience. She inherited the project from others, after a few false starts over the last decade; it is adapted from a novel by John Ajvide Lindqvist, better known for LET THE RIGHT ONE IN, and the writer really did have a powerful reference point for grief. According to Hvistendahl his father was literally defaced in a hideous boating accident and, despite the warnings of morgue workers, he insisted on viewing the body. The filmmaker says that her own reference points lay outside her life; that she drew inspiration from others who'd had closer encounters with death.

Personally, I started thinking about people I've known who died early in the film, and then I just couldn't stop. I wondered what would happen if various people came back. The basic assumption might be that it's usually desirable to have somebody back, if you missed them. But I feel like things are likely to be more complicated, especially if the living have already gone some distance through the grieving process--potentially accessing feelings that were too hard to face during the deceased's lifetime.

I thought about a much-admired friend, somebody who was kind of my hero and who was adored by everyone who knew her, who killed herself. The main initial reaction among her closest loved ones was rage. People were so, SO angry with her for leaving them, or not allowing them to save her, or maybe for forcing them to feel as sad and lonely as she felt, or for whatever other things seem to piss people off so much about suicide. I don't know what would happen if she came back to life. I mean probably a lot of people would lay down their arms and try to be grateful, but who knows. That kind of really personal anger can be hard to come back from.

I also thought about a couple I know well, the wife was extremely well-loved by many people, all of whom were devastated when she was diagnosed with terminal cancer. The painful, protracted illness made the loss all the more awful, and it fell to her surviving family members to preserve and sort of reenact her memory for everyone else. But the reality was that things were not so perfect at home--not to suggest anything really dark, but the couple would have been divorced had she survived. So then she died and her widower was left holding the proverbial bag; he could never have the personal satisfaction of separating from someone who was not right for him, and criticizing her would be unthinkable. If she came back to life...sure, they might divorce, but it's just as likely that he would suffer public pressure to honor and keep her in a more extreme way than usual for the rest of his life.

Finally I thought about a friend of mine who was murdered. I watch a lot of slasher movies, and whenever I hear the criticism that horror lovers must all be desensitized or delusional about real violence, I think about this person who was senselessly killed by a random psychopath at her sister's wedding. It shattered our circle of friends and I cannot imagine what it did to her family, especially her sister. I mean even if they were to do another wedding, it would be impossible not to think of the murder the second time. It would be permanently associated with the new couple. It's hard to even wrap your mind around all the effects of this event. In this case--setting aside the problems of zombies, which I have left out of my meditation--I can only think that having my friend back really would fix things for everyone.

So maybe ultimately I'm saying that HANDLING THE UNDEAD would be a more interesting movie if the losses in it were a bit more complicated in some way. However, I can't ask one film to be all things to all people, and surprise is a particularly difficult thing to achieve. But if you like John Ajvide Lindqvist and you want to be surprised, I strongly advise you to watch BORDER. You will see some stuff in there that you will never see anywhere else in your life, and it probably won't bum you out too much.

[bihanarms]

chapter 3 OUT! enjoy!! and feel free to say anything ~ hope you’ll like it. (and once again excuse my english)

Chapter 3 : Face to Face

Luis had just met Ada for the first time regarding the amber, but unfortunately he had nothing to give her right away because Saddler had gotten his hands on him before he could escape with it. And like she had mentioned in her email, "no sample, no protection".

As he walked determinedly in the direction that (y/n) had indicated, wondering what she was going to ask him to do, a decrepit house began to take shape in his field of vision. There were no villagers, no hideous zombie-insects or any other horrors that he would have had to face. Surroundings were strangely quiet.

Playing with his lighter in one hand, he gently pressed his ear against the door, trying to listen for any sound inside

Nada

He pushed the door open, making an unpleasant creaking sound. A quick glance to analyze the surroundings showed that there was no one there.

"Well, well, is anyone here?" Luis shouted loudly.

He took a step forward.

"(y/n)?" he shouted even louder.

« Hijo de puta!" »

Luis barely had time to turn around before he came face to face with a hatchet.

Luckily for him, the sound of a bullet firing from a pistol was heard, leaving a red hole between the infected villager's eyes, who was now just a corpse on the ground.

« Scream louder, good idea. » said a sarcastic female voice.

He turned around and came face to face with a woman holding a gun in both hands.

« And you are,querida? » asked our pretty spanish boy.

« Not going to answer that question, obviously » said the woman, putting her pistol away in her bag and revealing her face.

The voice, the uniform... impossible.

"(y/n)?!"

Luis was dazzled. Of course, it was her. The arrogant tone in her voice, who else.

She was there, right in front of him, her face revealed for the first time, and the wait was totally worth it... She was so stunning it was hard to believe. A wave of warmth pass through his heart, a flirtatious smile forming on his face, he took a few steps towards her.

Not a word came out of his mouth.

He was mesmerized by her beauty. Of all the dreams he had had, all the times he had tried to imagine her face, what he had in front of him at that moment was beyond all his expectations.

« Have you lost your voice?" asked (y/n), a smirk on her lips.

She finally looked up at Luis, eyes to eyes.

"Well, mi amor..."

Her gaze was so intense that although Luis was used to flirting, nothing more could come out of his lips. He was completely helpless. Funny thing was, that man was usually well-informed when it came to flirting with women, but that ONE woman he was facing, well... he was going to need new instructions.

« You look very foolish, you know that?" she said mockingly. "Pull yourself together, what's happening here is very serious. I'm glad you came."

"Where's your mask?" asked Luis, still unable to detach himself from the spectacle before his eyes. "It doesn't surprise me, querida, that you kept it on so often. You could have had me at your feet so easily, and there’s no fun in that."

"And there's the Luis I know," she sighed. "It didn't take you long. Any other pertinent remarks for our survival?"

"Sorry, mi amor, it's just that..."

"Luis, stop," she said sharply.

Y/n's uniform was soaked in blood and dirt, her mask had been lost in a scuffle with several villagers.

Despite her confident posture and determined stride, the worried look in her eyes betrayed the fact that she was not in control of the situation.

"I asked you to come here to talk," she began. "I had the chance to sneak into your office during your various absences recently and now I know everything you were doing behind Saddler's back."

Luis felt his heart racing, bringing him right back to reality.

"It's not what you thi-,"

"It is what I think," she interrupted. "And don't worry, I'm not here to rat you out. In fact, I'm here to ask for your help."

He breathed a sigh of relief, his entire body relaxing as he slumped into a nearby chair. But his quick mind soon took over, wondering how this was possible. After all, she worked front and center to protect Saddler's work.

"I know what you're thinking," she said, sensing his confusion. "And I know I can trust you. I'm actually not working for Osmund Saddler and his twisted plans. For months, I've been infiltrating this organization to gather information on him for the BSAA, we’re charged with preventing and eradicating bio-terrorism."

Luis had no time to process all of this information. A flurry of emotions coursed through him as he tried to come to grips with what he had just heard. But Y/n wasn't finished.

"I know that’s already a lot to deal with but that's not the most important thing. I need your help because Saddler knows what I’ve been up to. Before I left the island, he came to me and I know that you have found a cure--"

Her voice grew increasingly tremulous, and she paced nervously around the room as she spoke.

"--and I'm infected."

Those were her last words before her body gave out. Luis jumped up just in time to catch her in his arms. Her forehead was slick with sweat, and her breathing was painfully erratic. Signs of the infection were already starting to appear on her skin.

What the fuck was actually going on?

It was a lot of information to digest all at once, (Y/n) was an infiltrator, infected, and Saddler was on her tail.

Mierda, Luis had so much on his mind that he didn't know where to turn.

Gently lowering his gaze to Y/n's face, which was now showing pain above all. He couldn't help but feel constantly captivated by her anyway.

Despite all the revelations, deep down in his heart, he knew one thing for sure: he had to save this woman and keep her safe. Not just because of what he was feeling for her, but also to prove to himself that he could help someone out of this and not just run away like some coward.

end of the chapter, 4 incoming. :p

[anjaelle]

White Light | Part II

Characters: Ghost!ATJ + Black Female!Reader Rating: T+ (For language. Again...pretty tame so far) Word Count: 2.8K Summary: You've learned three very important things: 1) Ghosts are apparently real. 2) They can touch you if they're determined enough. 3) They will live with you for months and not pay rent, but reap all the benefits. A/N: Thanks for everyone that read part one. It would be super encouraging if people who read my story actually reblogged/commented on it, as it's hard to gauge what I could improve on or add more of without feedback.

[PART I] | [PART III] | [Masterlist]

--

The year was 2002.

He'd just moved to the city from England, eager to make his mark in the US with his band, Crimson Zombie. It was a shit name, admittedly--they had a plan to work on it. They'd heard from friends of friends that there was a bubbling underground music scene, and a couple of pretty damn good venues with well-known patrons. They were a group of four incredibly over-eager Uni dropouts who jumped first and asked questions later. The housing market wasn't too bad, considering the fact that everyone was trying to get the hell out of the downtown area after 2001. They had to couch surf for a couple of weeks before finding a space they could all live in on a budget. It wasn't much, but it was something.

He wasn't the lead of the band, a fact he was perfectly content with. He preferred standing in the back with his bass guitar, getting lost in the noise of the crowd and the melody without the pressure of looking perfect while he did it. That responsibility was left to his best mate Gavin, who had the looks, charisma, and talent as the frontman to make the band memorable in a sea of guitar playing white guys.

It took six months for them to gain a small following. And as they transitioned into the new year, they began getting a ton of attention they hadn't expected. Maybe it was the novelty of their Britishness. Maybe they were finding their sound. By the winter of 2003, they were well on their way to signing with an indie label and finally releasing a record.

That's when he met Talia.

Aaron was genuinely surprised when she initially approached him at a gig, since Gavin was usually the one women flocked to, the other guys were way more outgoing, and Aaron was more reserved. She was fresh out of college and working at a coffee shop, but making art on the side. The band tapped her to design their EP covers and merch, and then gave her a cut of the profits. Aaron and Talia grew closer after a few late nights of brainstorming and no-strings-attached fucking. He was beginning to catch feelings, and began to notice the growing animosity Gavin had towards their relationship.

"You don't fall for the groupies," he once said over a bottle of Jameson, "You're fucking mad if you think you'll survive touring. She'll cheat on you the minute your back is turned."

Aaron defended her which led to a shouting match. Gavin didn't speak to him for over a week, but he didn't care. He just knew that he loved her.

It was an unseasonably warm night in March when he plucked up the courage to finally ask Talia to be his girlfriend. They'd just finished an opening set at a sold out show, and were celebrating in their apartment with booze and some assorted party favors the other band mates called in. Ordinarily, Aaron would be right alongside them. But that night, he'd been nervously chain smoking out the living room window as he waited for her to come to the party after her shift at the shop.

He remembered Gavin giving him the cold shoulder all night, and snorting every last bag of coke off of their coffee table well into the evening. He remembered their band mates telling him to slow down before he OD'd. Aaron could hear them arguing from the kitchen, but he kept his eyes trained on Talia's silhouette crossing the street to their apartment building. The arguing moved into the living room. Aaron was about to call down to her from the window. There was a shout, a shove, immense pain in his head.

And then he died.

-x-

"JESUS FUCK!" You screamed, jumping out of bed and rushing to the door. With shaking hands, you managed to pull your front door open and scream out into the hallway, "SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME!"

Then you ran out, clad only in your pajamas and a pair of fuzzy socks.

He sat frozen on the bed, completely unsure of what to do or say to right the situation. From your perspective, a random man just showed up in your apartment and started touching your hair. Admittedly, he was being creepy. He couldn't blame you for being afraid. But he didn't know how to tell you that you were about to look absolutely insane for your accusation. When he came back to his senses, he found himself cradling the hand that touched you. Like it was sacred. It might as well have been.

In your haste to escape the danger of a dead guy, you left your front door wide open. For a moment he contemplated closing it--if he had the strength to anyway. But then he decided that it'd be better to just leave it alone in case you returned.

And you did! Eventually. It took several minutes for you to come back with your neighbors and the building's security guard in tow. He felt immediate guilt when confusion crossed everyone's face, as they peeked around the corner and saw no one there. But you stared right at him with fear etched onto your features. You parted your lips to speak, but nothing came out but a slow shuddering breath.

"They can't see me," he admitted, holding up his hands in an attempt at reassurance, "They can't hear me. It's just you...for some reason."

"No, no, no this can't be fucking happening." He heard you mutter to yourself, holding your head in your hands and turning your back to him. Your neighbors flurried around you to ask you questions about whether you wanted to file a report, and what the perp looked like. Several minutes of babbling passed, and you disappeared into the hallway again, closing the door tightly behind you without passing another glance his way.

It was odd. For the most part he couldn't really recognize anyone, and he was hit with the realization that everyone he knew from the building probably moved away. The feeling of the world moving on without him was still something he had trouble accepting.

Despite the initial shock of being seen, Aaron decided to play it cool. He felt around for his one loose cig that never seemed to disappear, no matter how many times he smoked it. He couldn't taste or smell a goddamn thing, but the fact that he died with one last cigarette in his pocket gave him an ounce of hollow comfort.

"Okay," he sighed to himself, propping his chin in his hand and tucking his cigarette behind his ear, "So...assuming she doesn't immediately move out, I need to figure out a way to explain this to her."

He snorted. He could barely explain this phenomenon to himself, let alone a living woman he's been mildly enamored with for months. He became hyper aware of the fact that the tingling in his hand disappeared after you left, and he wasn't sure if he missed you because of it. Or maybe he just missed you because he could finally talk to you and had so many questions to ask.

In fact, this was the first time he'd spoken to anyone. He instinctively grabbed the phantom cigarette and lit it with the phantom lighter, choosing to enjoy the illusion of relief it brought him.

Would you smell it? You smoked, too, but only rarely. And never cigs. Could you smell his smoke this whole time?

If you could, he decided he was a massive dick.

It was approaching dawn when you returned, and his heart leapt into his throat. Like he was an eager dog awaiting his owner.

Disgusting.

He had to remind himself that he knew you, but you knew nothing about him. Instead, he remained silent, choosing to stand close to the living room window far across the room. Your eyes met, and he noticed that you didn't look so afraid anymore. Instead, he noticed the exhaustion. He had to fight the impulse to voice his concern.

"You don't look so good," he plainly said, scratching the back of his head, anxiously.

You licked your lips and squinted at him, shutting the door behind you.

"You and I need to talk."

You explained to him that you spent hours speaking to your grandmother to make sense of things. You weren't a stranger to the supernatural--your family was full of spiritually sensitive people. But you were convinced that it skipped you. That you wouldn't ever have to deal with the craziness that seemed to follow every woman in your family. Yet here you were, sitting at your dining room table across from a guy who died in your apartment. Despite the slightly nervous nature of his demeanor, you were surprised at the level of calm you were both exuding.

He tucked his cigarette between his teeth and you clocked how unnaturally bright it was, and how slow it burned. You could faintly smell it. But it smelled like someone was smoking in a room down the hall, not right across from you.

You took a deep breath and he licked his lips.

"Ok...what do you wanna know?" He asked, resting his chin on the table.

You didn't expect him to seem so real. So human.

"Do you know you're dead?" You asked. It was a dumb ass question, but he smiled patiently at you and shrugged.

"Yeah. I kinda figured that when I couldn't leave out of the front door anymore. For like a few years."

You swallowed hard at the intensity of his eyes on you and looked down at your hands.

"Have you been watching me this whole time?"

There was a pregnant pause and he hummed to himself.

"I didn't...mean to," he admitted, "But, as you can see, there's not much room in here to avoid you."

"Avoid me?"

He shook his head, "I wasn't trying to get in your way. I was just...here. Can't really be helped, you know? What was I supposed to do?"

You considered this for a moment, then thought back on the conversation that you had with your grandmother a few hours before.

"Why are you still here? Why didn't you move on to the other side?"

He shrugged again, choosing to ruffle his curls in thought. "Fuck if I know. I might be dead but I don't know anything about death and spirits and shit. I was just...a guy. I had a band. I hate being stuck here--or, I used to anyway," his eyes flickered to you for a moment before focusing on the table again, "I just thought I was being punished or something."

The entire time you spoke to him, you had your cell phone on the table recording the conversation. You hoped that it was catching his voice as well as yours, but it was an absolute shot in the dark.

"Punished for what?" You gently pushed.

"Beats me. I was pretty boring when I was alive." His eyes glanced up at you again, but he didn't look away. Instead a slow smile pulled at the corner of his mouth and you felt your face warm up.

"What?"

"Nothing," he chuckled, "It's just nice to have someone to talk to."

You didn't even think about that: How lonely the last few decades must have been before you moved in. How much he missed before he even hit 30. How angry he must have been about his situation.

You sighed deeply, "Do you know what year it is?"

"2022." He stated, plainly. You were surprised.

"How do you know?"

He motioned to the window, referencing a billboard propped on the roof of a building across the street. At the moment, it had a fading image of a thin, blonde woman modeling a pair of very expensive pink stilettos, with a bottle of perfume propped on the heel.

"The time and date are at the bottom," he explained, "I think that's the only thing that's been stopping me from going mad. That, and being able to see life happen outside on the street. That's about it."

You sat in that for a moment, allowing you both to indulge in the comfort of new company and much needed silence. You kept noticing him stealing glances at you, like he was studying your face. You briefly wondered how often he did that before you noticed him.

"Why were you touching me? HOW were you touching me?" You suddenly questioned. He blinked rapidly like he was being pulled out of his own deep thoughts, and you could swear that you saw a blush creep along his cheeks. He cleared his throat.

"It--I...didn't, like--I wasn't really TRYING to touch you. Like, I-I thought...I don't know what the fuck I thought, really."

You blinked at him, but couldn't help the chiding grin that formed on your face by how flustered you seemed to make him, "You know I find that hard to believe, right?"

He blushed a deeper red and rubbed the back of his head again, "I've never been able to do that before. Bloody fuckin' hell, I'm sorry. I promise I wasn't...I'm not a creep. I swear I'm not. I just--fuck me."

You quirked a brow at him, but remained silent as his wide blue eyes seemed to exude a mild panic. He deserved it, since he apparently watched you for months without you knowing. Though you understood that some of it couldn't really be helped, you still wanted to make him squirm a bit.

You should've been madder. Maybe. But taking into account how sweet and anxious he was made you a little more lenient.

It took a moment for him to catch on to the fact that you weren't that angry, and he squinted at you, which made you giggle.

"Are you fucking with me?" He asked with a slight sigh of relief.

You scrunched up your nose at him.

"A smidge. But you and I both know that you deserve it."

As the conversation progressed, the sun began to peek through your window, letting you know that you'd been speaking for hours. Of course, you were exhausted. He obviously didn't need sleep. But concern crossed his features as you rubbed your tired eyes.

"You should get some rest," he said, propping his chin in his hand to watch you carefully, "You've had a long day."

Though you shook your head, you yawned, earning a laugh from Aaron.

"I think you're in denial," he said, standing from the dining room table, "C'mon. Get to bed. I'll be here when you wake up, obviously." He crossed his arms over his chest, and you were suddenly aware of how muscular he was. Or maybe your sleep deprived mind was playing tricks on you. Either way, you blinked your tired eyes slowly at him and pursed your lips.

"Fine, you win, I'll take my ass to bed."

As you dragged your feet across your living room, and collapsed face first into your pillow, a thought occurred to you which had you prop yourself up on your elbows to speak to him.

"I just realized that I asked you 1000 questions, but I never really gave you the chance to ask me anything." You yawned again and rested your head on your folded arms, "You get one question from me before I pass out for good."

At first, you thought he'd reject the offer. He seemed reluctant to ask of anything from you. But then he shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the ceiling for a moment, thinking of what to say.

"Can you look up something for me on your cell phone?"

He sat beside you on the bed--an eerie experience, considering you couldn't really FEEL him there, though he looked just as real as a normal, living person. As Aaron peeked over your shoulder at your phone screen, his eyes widened in wonder.

"Well shit, that's--wow," he ran his fingers through his hair, "So you just touch the screen part? Like, there's no buttons? At all?"

"Not really."

He whistled, "This is like some Space Odyssey shit."

You were charmed by his enthusiasm and made a note of his nerdiness for a later date.

You typed the name out in google.

As the results showed up, you watched from the corner of your eye as Aaron's jaw worked. A few pictures popped up of the man he knew on stage singing to a massive crowd in Leeds, on a red carpet beside a beautiful, pregnant dark haired woman with sleeve tattoos, and a portrait of him from when he was a teenager.

Gavin Kensington Roth was an English singer-songwriter, producer, and musician who was the lead singer of the band MARCOS.

Born: May 8, 1980 Died: December 31, 2018 Children: Daisy Kensington Roth, Lola Kensington Roth, Brody Kensington Roth Spouse: Natalia "Talia" Jade Kensington Roth (2004-2018)

Before you could finish reading the results, Aaron shot up from the bed, and disappeared into the void.

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

Full focus

In working out like a maniac for at least 1 hour a day before going to bed, Carmy had found his solace.

He hadn't completely conquered his insomnia, but his sleep patterns had improved considerably since he'd collapsed into bed after a hot shower and an intense and painful workout session that always left him aching all over and sweating like a sinner in church. Every muscle burned like hell and every joint felt like a death threat after working out to the point where exhaustion was just a fogbank his body would trespass in a state of welcome mindlessness. Like a zombie. The only reminiscence of life he felt after the fact was the blood rushing through his veins and the pain coursing through his limbs.

Needless to say, he wasn’t expecting company when in the middle of his third set of Russian twists he had to let go of his beloved kettlebell, get up, and jogg to the door.

His sweaty face and messy hair framing it, his labored breathing that made his voice sound different, sexier, his old football jersey that he had cut shorter because he had partially burnt it trying to put out a fire a few years prior and now showed his perfect V-lines and sometimes even his bellybutton, his dick printed grey sweatpants that also showcased his perfect V-lines, his incredibly blue eyes showing surprise and also satisfaction, all of it was what Sydney saw as soon as he opened the door. And she had to remind herself to breathe after taking it all in.

"Hey there!"

"Hi, hello!"

"Come on in… What’s going on?"

"You forgot these."

She handed him a manila envelope that contained forms he had to fill out, sign, and submit the next day, well in a few hours actually, first thing in the morning.

"Natalie was furious so I thou-"

"So you saved the day, as usual…"

"Well, when you put it that way…"

"Sorry for the mess, Syd… I wasn’t expecting…"

"Oh, no no, don’t be. I gotta go now anyway, it’s almost midnight so…"

"Oh that’s not what I meant, please stay, give me a sec, and I’ll take a quick shower and drive you home. K?"

"No, it’s OK. I’ll catch a cab if I miss the train. Don’t sweat it. Well, too late for that, but, it’s fine. No worries. I mean. It’s cool, it’s fine, it’s-"

She was ranting, her speech rate had skyrocketed.

"This late? Good luck with that… No way! Lemme give you a ride, it’s the least I can do. Just… just help yourself in the kitchen and I’ll be right back. OK? Make yourself at home. Give me 5 minutes!"

"Um… OK. OK…"

Before jumping in the shower he speedily picked up his “toys” and put the kettlebell, the dumbells, the push-up bars, and the cast iron disc away as he casually tried to make conversation:

"So.. who… who let you in?"

"Your neighbor, the one with the little brown dog that looks like a squirrel."

"Oh, Mr. Washington! Yeah, he told me once you reminded him of his daughter."

"Yeah! He just told me that too. Shouted that at me, actually."

"He’s hard of hearing…"

"Yup. I’ll just wait here. OK?"

Syd sat down in the living room and texted his dad to let him know why she was running late and to reassure him that Carmy was going to drive her home soon.

"K, as you wish, I’ll be right back."

The more she went through his books the more she found herself wanting to ask him about what he had learned from each of them.

She wanted to know it all, what recipes had he already tried, which ones he didn’t like, where had he purchased that other book that was so hard to get, etc.

The pile of books by the window also served as an impromptu coffee table on top of which a little black ashtray was on display. She found that so endearing, so very “Carmy.”

She ran her index finger along the edge of that ashtray and could see him standing there by the window, smoking a cigarette, thinking about the restaurant, about Michael, about a recipe maybe… Did he ever think about her? She wondered. Her finger was still on the edge of the ashtray, tracing circle after circle, then venturing inside the receptacle to play with the ashes, drawing more circles in there. Sydney was deep in thought by then and had completely forgotten about the books, she was now only thinking about Carmy. 

In a state of semi-trance, she unknowingly got to the shelves on the wall and started inspecting each of the items there. Her curious mind was having a field day.

This red hard-cover sketchbook caught her attention and she couldn't help it, she had to know what kind of Sistine Chapel-level drawings with shading and all Carmy had come up with, so she opened it. 

If she momentarily forgot how to breathe earlier when her EC opened the door looking like a Greek God of testosterone, stamina, and cross-fit, covered in sweat, what she saw in that sketchbook straight out made her forget how to maintain a proper brain function altogether.

Each page, dozens of them, showed a different expression of her face, a different hairstyle of her braids, and a different design of her headscarves. A flawless variation of her. She was all over those pages. The resemblance was uncanny. She was beautiful on that paper, she was like enhanced but not to the point of not looking like herself, her essence was captured perfectly and she couldn’t help but be mesmerized by her own features.

That’s when Carmy showed up behind her.

She didn’t even have to ask. 

He started explaining himself immediately. He stuttered his way through that explanation as his cheeks started to burn and his mouth began to feel dry.

Her surprise didn’t allow her to close her mouth. She kept it open all along, while Carmy tried to talk his way out of that predicament.

He kinda did by saying that he always drew portraits of people and that he didn’t think they were any good so that’s why he hadn’t shown her those yet, but that if she liked them she could keep them.

After a few more moments of silent blinking, Syd, while still flabbergasted, finally managed to shut her mouth, compose herself, swallow, and then form a short sentence:

"Um… thanks."

Carmy tried to fake calm. He wanted to sound as if he had everything under control and nonchalantly said:

"So you like them?"

"Sure."

"Wanna keep them?"

"I wanna frame them."

"Oh well… OK, thanks, I guess…"

"You are sooo talented, Carmy. These are… great, I’m—I’m in awe! I don’t know what to say, really…"

"Thank you."

"How did you-"

"I see you every day Syd."

"So… you didn’t take any pics or anything like that? I mean, I never posed for these…"

"Nope, just… I thought of you… that’s all."

"Wow!"

"You wanted my full focus, didn’t you? Well, there you have it."

He smiled sheepishly.

"I’d say…"

They both laughed on the way to the car.

That ride was awkward. The tension in the car was palpable. They couldn’t hold each other’s gazes. They would just steal a look at each other now and then, at a red light mostly… Then the tension continued to build up and they kept trying to ignore it and act as if nothing happened. Syd was holding on to that red sketchbook for dear life, she held it firmly against her chest like a shield.

When he pulled to the curve in front of her house, he looked at her intendedly, but couldn’t say a word. He was still too nervous and too embarrassed. His cover had been blown.

He had been caught red-handed, loving her.

His cover was up in the air like a fucking zeppelin.

Loving the memory of her.

His cover was now a satellite orbiting around Earth.

Loving the very thought of her.

He was sure she knew that by now. She was too smart to not have figured it out.

Syd looked at him and this time she was able to hold his eyes for a moment, then she stuttered something along the lines of: “Thanks for the ride” and got out of that car as fast as she could.

The walk to her door felt endless. Torturous even.

She wanted to go back in her tracks and kiss the genius out of him but she kept walking.

When she heard him drive away Sydney felt equally sad and relieved.

As soon as she got in bed she started going over the drawings again, and she was still so blown away by them that she couldn’t get any sleep that night.

She twisted and turned and her mind kept playing tricks on her. She pictured him alone, at his place, smoking a cigarette by the window, maybe wearing sweatpants, perhaps *only* those grey sweatpants that looked so hot on him, surrounded by his amazing books and thinking of her, drawing her perfectly by heart.

Her heart was all of a sudden a wild horse.

She wanted to call him up, wake him up, listen to his voice, and ask him about each drawing. She wanted him to walk her through each of those masterpieces. She wanted him to tell her why he did that, the truth this time around, not the PR version. She wanted... him.

6:00 AM Sydney was on her way to The Bear, still wired up, with the image of her own charcoal face firebranded on her brain and her every thought circling back to Carmy.

6:40 AM She was already at work, going through her to-do list, which included a lot of things that Carm usually did because he had to run that errand downtown, that morning.

9:07 AM Carmy walked through the front door of the restaurant and went straight to the office trying to avoid Sydney.

9:08 AM Syd was in the office telling him they needed to talk and do it elsewhere because Natalie was on the way.

9:08 AM Carmy was kicking himself on the inside.

9:10 AM They were outside, in the back alley, trying to sound like 2 adults having a serious yet friendly conversation about art.

9:11 AM They were making out. No, they were obscenely sucking face. Syd’s tongue was deep in his mouth and his hands were on her back pulling her closer.

9:20 AM They were still making out in the back alley, now her back was pressed against the wall, her hands were in his hair and his mouth was exploring hers as if his life depended on it, they were running out of oxygen, but that didn’t stop them, they continued locking mouths for a moment longer.

9:21 AM They finally broke the kiss to catch a breath, now their eyes were locked, they were panting, and they were nowhere finished. He went for her neck. Then back to her lips, she did the same. His hands on her waist, keeping her pinned to the wall, pressing himself against her. Her hands all over his back, trying to learn it by touch, like blind people learn to recognize faces with their hands.

9:22 AM Tina went out the back door carrying a huge trashbag, quickly made her way to the container, and dropped it there. She only saw them when she turned around and headed back to the restaurant. At that point, her spidey senses told her *something* was up, but Carm and Syd tried their best to look like 2 innocent people who happened to just be chit-chatting about the weather. Tina decided to play it cool and shot: “Morning!” Then promptly left them to it.

9:23 AM Syd and Carmy were back in the kitchen, pretending to fully focus on the tasks at hand. Not looking at each other. Still feeling their lips on one another. Still trying to control their respective heart rates.

11:08 PM Syd was on his couch, he was on top of her, he was all over her, inside her. She was grabbing his ass and urging him deeper as she sank her teeth into his shoulder and commanded him to fuck her.

11:29 PM Carmy was smoking a cigarette by the window, in his white boxers, using the ashtray he kept on top of his pile of books and looking at her, basking in her naked beauty, memorizing it. Syd was still on the sofa, lying on her side and resting her head on her hand, looking at him, enjoying the view as well. Their full focus: On each other, only this time around none of them were trying to hide it.

:The 💋 end:

You can find more fics like this one by me on AO3.

Thanks for reading!

XOXO

[terry-perry]

Papa Steven trying his best to bond with Marcy

Steven was the one up this morning. Marcy knew right away when she took into account his hunched-over stature and sweet smile upon taking off her earbuds. She did her best to hide her disappointment as she returned to her breakfast, but unfortunately, he noticed.

"Everything all right love?" He asked her as he made his way to the coffee. Not before he took a little detour at the stove so he could greet you with a kiss.

"Yeah, sorry," Marcy mumbled, her eyes focused on her food. "I thought you were Dad."

Your daughter had been aware of your husband's condition from a very young age. You wanted to make it as less challenging as possible for her to understand, going so far as to dub each alters as variations of dad to make things easier. She knew they were their own people and should be treated as such. It was also why she was a little sad Marc wasn't the one fronting that morning.

"Did you need him for something?" Steven went on to ask, growing a little worried in case it was something concerning. It was in his nature.

She shook her head, pointing at her earbuds. "I just wanted him to listen to this song. I wanted to get his opinion on it."

"You wouldn't want my opinion?"

"Well, it's a pretty heavy song. It's not exactly your taste."

Steven knew music was a big factor in her relationship with Marc. He was the one who would sing to her as a baby to calm her down and play her some of his favorite songs she ended up loving herself. It was nice they had their own thing. Steven knew Marcy loved him too, but sometimes he did envy that they had more shared interests they could bond over.

"I can still have a listen," he insisted, joining her at the table. "Maybe I l might like it."

She raised a brow at him, unsure. She gave him her buds, regardless. And she was right when she told him it was loud. He was right away met with a melody of roaring guitars and banging drums before a screaming voice spewed out the lyrics to the song.

"Interesting...beat!" He commented over the music.

Marcy didn't look very convinced and shook her head with a chuckle. She was ready to take the earbuds back when his next words stopped her.

"They remind me of Metallica,"

She was certainly not expecting that. "You like Metallica?"

"Oh yeah. Well, mostly their early stuff when they did a lot of guitar solos. And Justice for All was really good at showing that off. But I mostly like to listen to Rob Zombie since his stuff is pretty funky."

Well, this was certainly a surprise. Not a bad one though. You were even caught a little off guard by what Steven said, pausing your cooking to look over with a raised brow.

"Yeah...me too," Marcy uttered, smiling in disbelief. She pointed at her buds. "I'm actually gonna play this song tonight with the band."

Steven has never gone to any of her performances, not when he was fronting anyway. Marc was normally the one to go to The White Rabbit to see her play with her band since he would better appreciate their music. Steven and Jake were told by him that they were good, especially Marcy with all her solos. He wasn't sure about their frontman Eddie. He was an eccentric fellow, according to Marc.

"Dad usually comes to these things, but do you think you'd wanna?"

To say Steven was taken aback would be an understatement. This was the first time he was personally invited to hear her play. He was certainly not going to miss out on this opportunity.

"Yeah, yeah, of course!" He accepted right away, beaming. "I'd love to."

"Awesome," Marcy grinned back as she got up from the table to put her dishes in the sink. "Well, I actually gotta go get ready for rehearsal. Jack should be here any minute to pick me up."

She kissed each of you on the cheek before going upstairs to her room to change, leaving you alone with your husband.

"Metallica?" You inquired, going over to present Steven with his food. "Rob Zombie. How has that not been brought up in the 20 years we've been together?"

It technically has, just not through Steven.

"That's the adventure of marriage, love," he did his best to shrug it off, still smiling. "Always discovering new things about each other."

"Uh huh," you weren't buying it, but you decided not to say anything else about it. You simply kissed his forehead, your subtle way of thanking Marc for giving Steven the chance to spend more time with Marcy. No doubt he was also the one who educated him a little on her favorite musicians.

[romance-reanimated]

(Now we get to the embarrassing part)

Romancing Herbert West: A Comprehensive Guide

So step one is die.

Sorry! But seriously, if you’re not in some way connected to The Work, he’s unlikely to be interested in you. And what’s a better way to get involved with his passions than to be a nice, fresh, preferably undamaged cadaver!

Step two requires further research.

Why did most of Herbert’s subjects come back as half-conscious zombies, while Carl Hill returned as his usual spiteful and scheming self? Maybe Herbert would have acknowledged the brilliant success of Dr. Hill’s reanimation with his full mental faculties, if he hadn’t been so busy fighting Hill for the rest of the movie. (Or maybe it goes deeper, he sees being a successful experiment as a personal virtue, and can’t bear to imagine such a high honor being bestowed upon his nemesis) Either way, your reanimation will be, in his opinion, his most successful yet. And oh how he will admire his work!

Now you’re perfectly set up to grow closer in a natural manner!

No need to ask him out on a date, you’ll be around him nearly constantly in order to discern how often you need more serum, and what dosage. No need to break through his prickly exterior, you only know him at the height of his happiness, when he is working on his precious experiments. All you need do is take an additional interest in his work (besides its relevance to you) for him to feel, for once in his life, a genuine interest in another person.

Don’t expect your relationship to be… normal.

He already has that whole homoerotic bickering science babes thing going on with his lab partner, which although a very intense connection isn’t quite the basis for a romantic relationship. But with you, things are different. Often if you read deeper into his behavior it will come off as hostile, but once you realize that he really only means what he says, you will likely find his conversation easy and comforting. Who knew you spent so much effort reading everyone’s subtext all the time! He’s surprisingly affectionate, but he shows it in peculiar ways, by giving you odd compliments that show how well you align with his strange standards in a partner, or asking you to assist in parts of the experiment that would seem gruesome to someone who didn’t know what an honor he considers it.

Congratulations! You have attained one (1) Herbert!

[theleotorrio]

You mention both titan anatomy and breakdowns of wormhole physics and expect people not to want to hear about it???

I would love to hear whatever infodump or general rant you want to share!

(Also on the wormhole part, agreed!)

Well looking at me weird is the usual reaction I get when I start talking about these things, but I am more than happy to yap about them, if you want to hear them.

The titan anatomy one is for the attack on titan titans, because they tell you a lot about it and not all of it fits together. (Turned out to be more about the titans in general)

So there are three different kind of titans, there are pure titans, abnormal titans and the big nine titans als known as the titan shifters and they all kinda work the same yet not. So what we get to know is that every titan come from a human, who is sitting in their neck, that kinda, depending on the kind, more or less serves as their neural centre (which is why they only die when that part of the titan neck is separated). When humans get injected with spinal fluid from a titan shifter they turn into the titans and stay that way and lose aöl their will and control, the pure titans seem kind of luke zombies in that way. The titans themselves are not really made of flesh, they regenerate very fast and create a lot of steam when they do but also dissolve very fast when they die and there is a whole yeast theory that says that the bodies of titans are kinda made of those, which causes them to expand so much and release steam and gas and so on. To that I am very sure that when a titan dies and the titan body dissolves the human body of the base shouldn't because it is made of actual flesh so when a titan dies there should be a human body left behind, which they never show, but it would just make sense.

Abnormal titans are the same but faster and more aggressive making them more dangerous opponents. I think they are different because their subconsciousness has more control over the titan making it more driven or try to follow a goal making them more determined or more subconsciously angry at what's happening with them. We can see that in Dina who said that she would always find her way back to Grisha before being injected and then her titan made her way to his house later, so that's where I got that from.

Titan shifters are the most interesting, there are nine and they can transform into titans by will by drawing blood on themselves but also can turn back to humans and have control over their titans. Those titans are more powerful than the others and each has a special ability. They all come from the founding titan, Ymir, and those titans can be given from person to person. A titan shifter after becoming a shifter only lives additional 13 years. A person becomes a shifter after becoming a pure titan and eating the former human who had the titan.

That's a 'short' exposition (i got carried away), now the issues and implications we can assume. Sooo, one of the first facts we get to know about titans is that titans do not have a digestion system. They eat humans and when they full they throw balls of humans back up owl style. So here's where the problem with that statement is. We get to see those human balls in the manga so I don't doubt that statement, BUT the titan shifters eat the former shifters they want to take the ability from ad a pure titan, which would not being anything, because they don't have an digestive system and couldn't take those powers over in that way because the titan can't absorb the bone marrow of the former shifter that way, but that is how they hand the titans over. Ymir, the founder, have her powers to her three children by having them eat her dead body as humans and as gruesome as that is, it makes more sense, but the problem they created for that is that when a titan shifter dies before giving the titan to someone else, those powers go to the random next born after the shifter died, so difficult, but it doesn't really work in any way which is frustrating.

Additionally, as they don't have a digestive system I wondered what organs they might or might mot have (i totally read my roomates medical books for this, without telling her, because how do you explain this). Ad they have the humans as their neural and neurological centre i don't think they would need a brain, they have the humans brain for that. They must have lungs and a voice box as many titans make sounds, the beast titan (and I think the armored too) can even speak and scream, so those must be there, but things like liver, kidneys and so on also most likely to exist as there's nothing to filter and the titans need space for the stomach pouches where the humans go that they eat (and they are big enough to swallow those whole). Also interesting is that especially for the shifters the humans subconsciously seem to have some sort of control over what organs their titans have or don't have, best example Berthold and Armin, both holders of the collosal titan, so their design is quite similar, but Bertholds titan has ears, so we can assume he can hear too, but Armins does not have ears and most likely can't hear because Armin does not like yo hear the suffering of the people he has to kill. I am on the fence about whether titans have hearts or not, because they have a lot of blood and bloodflow so their cells must also need oxygen to work, that they get from the blood because why have it otherwise? And to get that blood going there's should be a heart, but titans are huge so how big would that heart need to be to achieve that, so i think it's possible that it's muscular movement of the blood like how the necks of giraffes work to get it around, so I think both are possible.

Also there is just a lot (and this is not a critique on the author but really on the people in the story) of experimentation that you can do involving giving on titans. So Ymirs titan spirit of the founding titan got split into three and from there later into nine that build the big titans. But they know that those titans are superior so why did they stop multiplying them? Or you could try to cross them deliberately to make them each more powerful. Something that happens in the show on accident, when Falco ingests spinal fluid from the beast titan and later eats the jaw titan and from the design of his jaw titan, it has beast titan characteristics, so why did they never try that, it's such a waste and would have been real interesting.

Sooo, this got out of hand and I am very sure I am even now forgetting something, but I think a lot about attack on titan so there's a lot in this brain. Sorry, it's so much, but thank you so much for the ask! (I can also totally talk about my red sky issues too, if you want 😅)

[penultimate-step]

Denji is a character written to be a disruptor, someone who will break through established social norms. When he speaks, this is reflected in his blunt willingness to say whatever he feels should be said, having no care for niceties and not paying attention to the conversational flow. Of course, to skillfully show off such a character trait, that means the author, in contrast, must be very concerned about the flow, to best write the moments to have Denji insert himself.

This isn't an analysis, just talking about a few examples from the series that stood out to me. Examples include spoilers throughout part 1 and well into part 2 under the cut:

Just look at chapter 127 for the most clear cut example.

The whole gag is that there's a serious emotional struggle going on, in the middle of a serious action sequence, and Denji is talking about how much he loves sex. It's like the manga equivalent of a whoopee cushion in a handshake gag: the joke is in the interruption from the established atmosphere and expectations.

If we look at part 1, we can find a few similar times where the same trick was attempted. I'll use chapters 47, since it's the first one that comes to mind for me:

Notice the difference? In part 1, where denji has a much greater focus and the side characters have less emphasis, it means much less when Aki and Reze are playing off of him. Yes, it's still denji having a moment where he breaks the emotional tension with a desire for women, but without Asa's grounding counter presence as co-protagonist he's left to essentially play straight man to himself.

Of course, denji's bluntness is deeper than just playing the fool. One of my favorite moments in the manga is a result of this, from chapter 36:

A more socially conscious character might have offered condolences or said they had regrets, when standing in front of someone whose family is dead. It's pretty common politeness! But denji doesn't care about social graces - the man mistreated him, turned into a zombie, and died, no need to overthink it. So he tells his surviving family to his face that he feels nothing. Amazing. This is a moment where rather than Denji disrupting serious emotional moments to release tension, his honesty instead ramps up the emotional stakes of the scene, getting more personal than things would be otherwise.

Denji's glib brush-off shows his dissonance with the social fabric around him, sure, but also demonstrates his lack of care for the bonds between people - a callback to a few chapters earlier, in chapter 29, where Denji himself has similar worries, and setting the stage for this character thread's resolution in 38. It's a great moment.

Anyway, just one more example before I stop. A bit from part 2, another moment where Denji does something perceived as vulgar, which, through the reactions of those around him, emphasizes his character.

Yoshida sets the stage - he's in control. He is trying to follow in Makima's footsteps in holding Denji's leash. Simple carrot and stick. But he's not her, doesn't have her skills in manipulation, and Denji has changed a lot from the desperate boy he was in chapter 2. So he cuts through - so what if usually cake is eaten with silverware? Denji effortlessly throws Yoshida off his game. See his shocked and disgusted face? It's an early indication that the manipulations that characterized part 1 won't be going as smoothly this time.

In short, look, I know that "character A does something offbeat, character B reacts with shock" is far, far from an original concept, its one of the most classic types of humor. but, nonetheless, I appreciate csm's execution of it. having these defined and emphasized characters react and be off balance by Denji's actions works well as a characterization tool for both Denji and his conversation partner, and can let the author adjust scene tone on the fly.

[dat-dio-backpatch]

Band practice pt.2

summary: When your boyfriend Billy visits you during band practice to find you alone with Eddie he isn't thrilled, things only seem to go downhill from there

word count: 3.7k

warnings: Swearing, unhealthy relationship

A/N: Ok so this isn't the last part cause I couldn't decide who to have the reader end up with so I'm gonna write two endings, one where you end up with billy and the other with Eddie. I definitely didn't expect this to wind up being so long but I'm not complaining lol

In case you stumbled across this part first you can find part 1 here

~~~~

Billy had a problem with him since the day they met when he saw just how close the two of you were, Eddie had a problem with Billy since the day they met when he realized just how possessive he was over you. Their relationship had only worsened since, despite your best efforts to smooth things over between the two. 

“Where's the rest of your little club?” Billy was still not trying to hide the anger in his voice as he wrapped his arm around your waist pulling you close to him “Is it just you and Munson out here?”

“The guys are inside, we just stepped out for some air and so I could keep an eye out for when you’d get here” You quickly answered looking up at Billy, but his attention was fully on Eddie. Billy was giving Eddie his classic death glare, tightening his grip around your waist as he watched Eddie try to match the intimidating look as best he could. “You hungry honey? There might still be pizza left over if the guys haven’t eaten it all already” 

“I'm all good dollface, how ‘bout you show me some of your setup instead?” Billy finally turned his head to look at you, glare melting away almost entirely as he gave you a small smile that reassured you that everything just might run smoothly after all. You were excited to show Billy the songs you guys had worked on and hopefully help the group warm up to the idea of Billy being around more. 

“Of course, we haven’t really worked on a ton so far so there's not a lot I can really show off right now” You rambled starting to lead Billy towards the garage’s side door, passing a still silent and stock still Eddie. You’d never seen Eddie so unnervingly still before, none of his usual energy to be found as you looked back at him over your shoulder. “Eddie you coming?” 

“I’m taking a smoke break, tell the guys I’ll be in soon” He didn’t bother to turn and look at you when he spoke, just waving you off as he reached for the pack of cigarettes in his back pocket. You felt your heart sink a little as you knew it was your fault Eddie was acting this cold but it was too late to try and fix it as you led Billy back into the garage. 

The guys immediate mood shift when they saw it was Billy with you and not Eddie only made you feel worse.

“Where's Eddie?” Gareth asked, side eyeing Billy 

“He’s taking a smoke break” You answered quickly “Said he’d be in soon”

“Why’s he here?” Gareth asked, the rest of the group still silent, still avoiding looking at you. 

“I just wanted to see my girl, you got a problem with that?” Billy's voice was still dripping with anger, all you wanted was to keep him from starting something with the guys and get through the break without anything awful happening. 

“Just don’t touch the instruments.” Gareth was glaring now, not just at Billy but at the both of you. It made you want to cry, nothing had really happened but somehow everything was going wrong. Thankfully Billy just scoffed at Gareth's comment instead of saying something volatile back. 

“So this is the song we’ve really been focusing on today, we call it Witch's Curse” You said, leading Billy over to your music stand to show him the lyric sheets. “Well I’ve been working on it, the guys can play it perfect but the latin in the chorus kept giving me trouble”

“Witch’s curse?” Billy mused as he picked up the sheet, skimming over the lyrics quickly. “Course Munson would name a song something cheesy like that, lemme guess you guys got one called Zombie Bite or something”

“Don’t be an asshole” You playfully smacked his arm. You knew this was him trying to ease tension, making a joke to get you to relax but he still couldn’t drop his shitty attitude towards Eddie. “I like it, it’s a sick song and I think it’s one of our best so far”

“Whatever you say sweetheart” Billy said, shrugging off your defense of the song. “What’s the latin mean anyway?”

Before you could answer the door opened and Eddie was back. You smiled at him as he shut the door but he just looked right past you as he made his way over to the guys. Just another reminder of how bad you’d fucked up by inviting Billy over. 

“I said, what’s the latin mean?” Billy reiterated his question, a familiar edge to his words letting you know he saw you smiling at Eddie and that he wasn’t too far off from losing his shit. 

“Oh right” You glanced over at Eddie who was now watching your conversation intently with an expression you couldn’t read despite knowing him better than you knew yourself. “I don’t know what it means, I didn’t take latin”

“Really? You’re singing the shit and you don’t even know what it means?” Billy sounded like he didn’t quite believe you but he wasn’t going to outright say it. At least not yet

“I don’t need the translation to sing it right, it sounds cool regardless” Eddie looked relieved that you’d kept his secret, finally turning back to the guys instead of staring you down. “We were practicing a few other songs too, I think they might be a bit more your speed”

Billy was still focused on the lyric sheet in hand as you went to grab the other sheets still resting on your music stand, the air was still laden with tension and you felt like you’d simply die on the spot if it didn’t improve soon. 

“Hey Munson” You froze as soon as Billy said it, stuck in place watching as Eddie looked back over with an expression you could read plain as day. He was pissed and he wasn’t hiding it. 

“What do you want, Hargove?” Eddie shot back, crossing his arms as he continued to glare at Billy

“What’s the latin mean?” Yet again Billy's voice dipped into that gravelly anger and for the first time it was starting to scare you 

“What latin?” Eddie moved closer to you 

“The latin in the fucking song dumbass” Billy was tensing up, straighting his posture and returning Eddies glare with a look of pure aggression. “What’s it mean?”

“Don’t remember” 

“Bullshit” Billys hand started to grip the paper tighter, wrinkling it a fair amount “You seriously expect me to believe you just don’t remember what it means when you wrote the fucking thing?”

“Don’t know what to tell you man, just don’t remember” Eddie shrugged his shoulders, smirking as he saw how angry he was making Billy 

“I know you’re fucking stupid but even you couldn’t be that dumb” Billy had completely crumpled the lyric sheet by now. 

“Billy quit it!” You finally spoke, snapping at your boyfriend. 

“I just wanna know what this freaks got you singing, is that so wrong?” Billy's anger was directed at you now but you didn’t back down. 

“Don’t call him that!” You snapped again, not caring that the guys were staring or that Billy was definitely gonna lose his shit now. “Gimme the paper, you fucking messed it up!” 

“I’ll call him whatever the fuck I want” Billy was shouting now, the sound amplified by the cement walls of the cramped garage “The freaks obviously bullshitting me”

“So what? You don’t give a shit about my music so why the fuck are you throwing a tantrum over one line?” you reached to take the paper out of his hand only for him to pull it out of your reach. 

“I give a shit about your music, why the fuck else would I be spending my night in this shitty garage?” Billy's voice was still rough and loud but you could see his expression soften a bit, he did care about your music and you knew he was doing his best to show it. He just didn’t know how to show he cared in the right way, but he wishes he did, he told you how he wishes he could be better for you during your few softer conversations late into the night where you got him to open up a bit more. It was wrong to throw that in his face but you were past giving a shit at this point.  

“Give me the paper” You said, your voice low and demanding. Billy relented and shoved the paper into your hand before storming out of the garage, slamming the door behind him. All the anger left you at once and despite your best efforts to hold it together you started to cry. Ignoring the stares of the guys and the sounds of Billy shouting off swears outside, you started to flatten out the crumpled paper. 

“He’s not invited back” Gareth said, breaking the silence. You didn’t know if it was him trying to crack a joke or him being genuinely upset with you but either way It only made you cry harder. 

“Not fucking helpful!” Eddie snapped at Gareth, he was obviously still angry and you just broke as he made his way over to your side. You were still doing your best to flatten out the creases in the lyric sheet but it just wasn’t working. “Hey it's ok, I can just rewrite it for you if you can’t read it like that”

“No, it’s not, it’s” You were struggling to form a proper sentence through tears, finally giving up on the lyric sheet. Eddie took over for you, his ringed fingers smoothing over the sheet repeatedly but it just wouldn’t flatten out. “I’m sorry, I, I knew it was a bad idea inviting him”

“It's fine.” 

“No it's not fine!” You snapped, not angry, just frustrated with how calm Eddie was able to sound. You expected him to blow up at you, to kick you out and avoid you for days. It was what you deserved, you ruined the entire practice and he was still being so understanding, you didn’t deserve such an amazing friend after everything that just happened. “I fucked up Eddie, I’m sorry”

“Seriously Y/N it's fine, it's just a piece of paper” He insisted as he abandoned the paper, turning to face you. When he saw just how hard you were crying he instantly pulled you into a hug, not knowing what else to do you hugged him back. As he slowly rubbed your back, muttering its ok into your ear, you felt yourself calm down enough to stop crying. You have no idea what you would do without Eddie in your life, he always knew exactly how to help you and always seemed more than happy to do so. 

“Does he always throw tantrums?” Gareth asked, this time it was clear he was trying to be funny

“Again, not fucking helpful” Eddie said, his voice stern but no longer sounding angry. Despite it all you found yourself giggling at Gareth's comment, pulling away from the hug to find that none of the guys looked angry at you. 

“He’s got a point” You said, sniffling a bit as you started to smile again. 

“Looks like I’m pretty god damn helpful” Gareth laughed at his own comment, the guys laughing a bit too as you broke out into more giggles

“You’ve got your moments I’ll give you that” You said still laughing, feeling your mood lighten even further as you heard Eddie join in the laughter. “Really though, I’m sorry I ruined practice guys. I shoulda known not to invite him, I promise I won’t be bringing him back next time”

“You didn’t ruin practice” Eddie brushed off your worries “He messed up, not you”

“Only thing you ruined was your makeup” Yet another Joke from Gareth that sent the group in a fit of laughter 

“Not helpful!” You mocked Eddie's earlier comment through giggles as Gareth raised his hands in mock defense. 

“You alright?” Eddie asked softly as the guys eased back into their previous conversations. He was looking at you with real concern now

“Yea, yea I’m fine” You answered “You alright?”

“Me? I’m great, perfect actually” Eddie said, chuckling a bit 

“I’m serious man, are you ok?” You insisted “He said, he said really shitty stuff”

“I get called way worse than that on a daily basis, he’s gonna have to dig a little deeper if he wants to fuck with me” Eddie chuckled again, smiling warmly at you. 

“Doesn’t make it ok, rest assured I’m gonna lecture his ass about manners later” As you watched Eddie laugh loudly at your joke you felt yourself starting to blush. You watched the way his curls bounced as he threw his head back, how the corners of his eyes creased when he shut them tight, how his cheeks dimpled as his smile grew. You quickly tore your eyes away, starting to feel more conflicted than happy. Glancing over at the door you knew you had to go talk to Billy, you couldn’t just let him drive off without at least saying goodbye to him. 

“I’ll be right back” You said quickly, making your way over to the door and outside before Eddie could stop you. You found Billy leaning up against the side of his camaro, smoking a cigarette and glaring at nothing in particular. It was dark now but the light above the garage illuminated the driveway just enough for you to see how tense he looked. 

“You come out here to yell at me some more?” Billy let out a long exhale of smoke before dropping the cigarette and stamping it out. 

“I came to talk to you, not yell” You said walking over, leaning against the car next to him. 

“Surprised you’re even out here at all, thought you’d be all over Munson by now” 

“Course I came to you Billy, I’m not just going to let you leave without apologizing” You muttered, you didn’t want to address his comment about Eddie quite yet. At least not while you were still standing in Gareth's driveway. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.” 

“Guess I shouldn’t have yelled at you either” Billy was muttering, he always spoke quietly when he was apologizing. He had no problem being loud when he was angry but when it came to apologies he struggled, though you didn’t hold it against him. You knew it wasn’t entirely his fault that he had a hard time being vulnerable and you knew he was trying. “Just got mad”

“Mad about the latin?” You knew it wasn’t about the latin. 

“Mad about you and Munson keeping secrets” His voice was getting louder, anger sparking up again

“I’m not keeping secrets from you Billy, Eddie just didn’t wanna tell you what it meant” You kept your voice steady and calm “I can’t force him to share stuff and you can’t either, it's not that big a deal”

“Guess so” Billy's voice had dropped back into mumbles 

“I wish you’d give him a chance, it really sucks knowing that my best friend and my boyfriend hate each other and I can’t hang out with my two favorite people without a fight breaking out” You knew this comment ran the risk of getting him mad again 

Billy didn’t get angry but he didn’t say anything either. He just shut his eyes tightly, an expression you were familiar with. He was holding back from saying something he’d regret, a skill he had been working on but still didn’t quite have a grasp on. 

“He’s too close to you” 

“He’s my best friend Billy” You were struggling to keep your voice calm now, this was a fight you’d had many times before and still hadn’t gotten anywhere with. 

“You know what I mean” 

“And you know we’re just friends, I tell you this every time you start this fight” You were starting to lose your patience 

“Not trying to start a fight, just telling you how I feel” His voice was getting louder “Isn’t that what you want? For me to ~share my feelings~ like some kind of bitch? Well I’m sharing my fucking feelings and I feel like he’s too god damn close too you!”

“So what!” You were shouting again, you couldn’t help it 

“So What?” He was shouting now too “So you’re my fucking girl not Munsons so

you oughtta fucking act like it!”

“Billy I swear to god we’ve fucking talked about this!” 

“And yet you still act like this!” He was really angry now

“Act like what?” You were angry too

“Act like you love that fucking freak more than me!” he stood up straight, no longer leaning back on the car as he towered over you. 

“Don't call him that!” you stood up yourself and despite being far shorter than him you still tried to mirror his defensive stance. 

“You’re not denying it!” Billy shouted in mock triumph like he’d caught you in some trap 

“Because it’s such a stupid fucking suggestion it’s not worth ackowledging!” You were nearly screaming now, so lost in your own anger and Billy's glare that you didn’t hear the garage door open

“Hey uh, we’re starting up again!” Gareth shouted from the door. 

“Be right there!” You tried to mask the anger in your voice as you called back, waiting for the door to close again before turning back to Billy. “Look this isn’t getting us anywhere and this certainly isn’t the place for this conversation. Just go home, I’ll get another ride back to my place later and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

“You gonna let Munson drive you home?”

“Billy please” you felt yourself start to deflate again “I’m sorry ok, I’m sorry I make you feel like I don’t love you and I do wanna talk this through but doing it tonights just gonna wind up with us screaming at each other and I can’t handle that”

“Fine.” Billy's answer was sharp but not loud. You watched as he got into his car and started the engine before you walked over to the driver's side window which he reluctantly lowered for you. 

“I’ll call you when I get home” You offered, leaning forward to rest your hand on the side of his face. While he didn’t pull away his expression didn’t soften. “I’m sorry today went so shitty, I really am”

Billy still didn’t speak but his expression was starting to soften. 

“I love you Billy” You continued, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to his lips which he reciprocated but didn’t try to deepen nor did he lean forward to continue it when you pulled away. 

“Love you too” Billy mumbled, not looking at you as you stepped away from the car. You watched him pull out of the driveway and speed off, taking a moment to collect yourself in the silence before rejoining the others in the garage. 

“Everything ok?” Eddie asked, looking up from tuning his guitar as you closed the door behind yourself

“Yea, yeah everythings fine” You answered, running a hand through your hair with a short sigh. You made your way back to the music stand and looked over the crumpled lyric sheet. It wasn’t as bad as it looked before, sure it was wrinkled but you could still read each line clearly. You traced your finger over the latin line slowly, letting out a sad chuckle at how such a short lyric had caused such a big scene. Tragic Irony, it would be funnier if it hadn’t just happened to you but you tried to look on the bright side. Maybe this would be the final time you and Billy had to talk about Eddie, maybe you could put this insecurity of his to rest and actually make some progress with him. 

“Hey Eddie” You turned to face him again, breaking yourself out of your thoughts before you let yourself get upset again. 

“What's up?” He asked, curls falling haphazardly over his face as he quickly looked back up from his guitar. You giggled a bit as he failed to blow them out of the way. 

“Can you uh, can you give me a ride home?” You don’t know why you felt so embarrassed asking him, hell before Billy Eddie had been the one to drive you almost everywhere but now it just felt awkward asking him. 

“I thought, “ Eddie stopped himself, suddenly understanding why you were asking. “Yeah, of course I can drive you home. I’ll even let you pick the music if it’ll help cheer you up”

“You got a copy of Ride The Lightning?” You knew he did, it was the album you always asked him to play when he used to drive you around and you were feeling nostalgic all of a sudden. Those car rides with Eddie were some of the most fun times you’d had together. As lame as it sounds, driving around Hawkins and obnoxiously singing along to each and every song together was amazing. You missed it. A lot. 

“Course I got Ride The Lightning, you really think I wouldn’t have your favorite album ready to go?” He was smiling brightly now, he hadn’t said anything when you started declining his offer to drive you around but he missed those drives too. He missed a lot about the friendship you guys had before Billy, but he knew saying something about it wouldn’t help the already tense situation. So instead he kept his copy of Ride The Lightning on his dashboard, always ready and waiting for you. He wouldn’t admit it, even to himself but He was always ready and waiting for when you would come back, when you would finally realize Billy was an ass and come back to him. 

Despite the disruption, practice ran smoothly for the rest of the night, everyone easily slipping back into a lighthearted mood as you continued to make good improvement with all the songs that weren’t quite perfected yet. But despite the improvements you weren’t able to fully focus on what you were singing, you were caught up by your own racing thoughts. As practice drew closer to ending you felt more and more conflicted. You couldn’t wait for the drive home but you were starting to dread the phone call you’d have to make when you got there. 

[5urreal5weetz]

can i request the main 3 (separate) with a s/o that loves horror movies <3

A/N: Of course!-Im a bit of a horror movie lover myself. Favorite one is Jigsaw lol. :)

Main 3 with a Horror movie loving!S/O

_________

Hank

Oh you just found something that'll sit this guy down.

Blood, gore, screams of the damned, pain.

All his favorites.

He will actually pull you into his lap and make you have a marathon, if you ever suggest it.

I feel like he'll take notes, like notes on how to kill someone if he sees something he'd like to try. He would also like to impress you with it as well.

He will show off. Blood and guts glore.

You thought it'll be a cute little thing to ask if he'd like to watch a horror movie with you. He's being on missions a lot lately, and you wanted to spend sometime with him. But seeing him sit up close to the T.V., wrapped up in a blanket, staring intently at a gorey scene wasn't what you expected.

If you ever jump or get scared, and hide or grab him. He will keep his gaze on the screen. It won't leave it.

He'll just let you cling to him.

A scream erupted from the screen as a girl was being butchered, by a masked man. You leaned against Hank to hide your face from the screen, you weren't scared. You just didn't want to watch the cliche scene-Besides there was a lot of guts flying around.

Glancing up you just see Hank staring, unmoving at the screen.

"I feel like you're way more into these movies than I am."

"Shut up and watch the movie."

_________

Sanford

Sweet big guy, doesn't really like those type of films.

Tends to avoid them.

But if you suggest to watch it with him, he'll eventually give in.

He will end up talking a lot more than usual, to calm his nerves.

Jumpscares will get him, whether they were intentional or not. Poor guy will get scared at the sound of a pin dropping.

He will be staring at the screen nervously, preparing himself for one - And he just ends up jumping at the slightest touch from you bumping elbows.

You end up hiding or grabbing him from a scene you don't like, he'd hold you in a bit of vice grip because he going to do the same with you.

He maybe a killer, but horror movies ain't his thing. But for you, he'll make an exceptation.

"The movie haven't even started yet-"

You said, Sanford ended up dropping the bowl of popcorn after jumping at you pressing play. Apparently the volume was all the way up, and was loudly startling.

"I-I know, doll-Just lemme get clean this up."

_________

Deimos

I feel like he would be the type to be neutral face throughout a whole movie.

He won't be scared in the slightest, at all.

He'd causally pull out a smoke, while you suggest watching one of your favorite movies. He'd happily agree.

Quality time.

He would actually suggest a movie for you to watch. I feel like he'd enjoy Zombie type horror movies - Mainly due to the zeds. He gets to live it out killing zeds.

Like Hank, might take notes. But will never use them, due to him not remembering it later on.

If you cling to or hide on him, he will soak it up. And he will tease the absolute hell out of you.

He would offer himself as your personal shield, if the scene you don't like comes on. He won't say no.

Will flirt throughout the movie. Doesn't matter at what part the movie it is, he will flirt.

"Is it just me or do you just put these on, so we can cuddle?"

He said with a smug grin. You just gave him a deadpanned look, before burying your face in his chest. He was making the movie unwatchable.

"Shut up, Dei."

[azurecrystalz]

[Translation] Spider / One Day Friday 2

Rinne: Merumeru. When you say it's not child's play, just what do you mean by that?

HiMERU: That's simply what HiMERU overheard. Tenshouin-senpai looks to be the one running the project, and at "ES Halloween" the entirety of the management staff are going to be wearing full-scale costumes.

Kohaku: Hoon. Full-scale costumes you say...but they're still only just costumes aren't they?

HiMERU: That may not be entirely correct. Special makeup and effects are supposedly going to be used to make elaborate ghasts and spirits.

Kohaku: Eh?

HiMERU: At this time of year, some major theme parks hold large Halloween events, did you know that?

Kohaku: Theme park events?

Rinne: Isn't that what they usually show in CMs* and stuff? Like, where there's a bunch of zombies roaming the park or something?

HiMERU: That's right. It's said that it will be quite similar in size and quality as those. Hibiki-senpai also is said to be the one overlooking the project, and he's quite involved in drama and theater, so that will certainly add to the level of quality.

Kohaku: Just like the real thing.....

Rinne: So! The expectations set for our costumes are sky high. I wonder how scaaary they're gonna be~

Kohaku: .....!

Rinne: It is an event after all, so I wanna scare the hell out of some people too.

Niki: Ah, speaking of scaring people! This upcoming Halloween, aren't they gonna set up an actual haunted house on ES grounds? I heard they gonna use it as an attraction during the day, and then at night it'll become a live venue. The manager here at "Cinnamon" is super thrilled because they're expecting there's gonna be an uptake in customers.

Kohaku: Is, i-is that right? A haunted house huh...

Rinne: Nn?

Kohaku: ........

Rinne: Nnnn~?

Kohaku: What? Quit staring at me.

Rinne: Kohaku-chan. Don't tell me you're scared of ghosts?

Kohaku: A-Absolutely not! Auuugh, that's ridiculous. Me, scared of ghosts, at my age. No way. Absolutely not.

HiMERU: ........

Niki: ..........

Kohaku: What, what's with those smiles.

Rinne: Kohaku-chyaaan~, are you really sure? You're not scared of ghosts at all? You should admit it while you still can for your sake, shouldn't you?

Kohaku: Like I told you...I'm not scared.

Rinne: Alllright~. As long as you say it's okay. In that case, let's all go to the haunted house downtown tomorrow~.

Kohaku: Hah?!

Niki: Eh? There's a haunted house downtown?

Kohaku: Th-that's right! I haven't seen anything like that! Haunted houses are only in theme parks.

Rinne: No no, that's what you think~. You know the arcade right? There's a haunted house that just opened down there. It's like a haunted house that remakes Japanese horror films that are popular. I've heard that even though it's really small, it's super scary!

HiMERU: Ah. Now that you mention it, the makeup artist working with HiMERU had talked about that as well.

Rinne: In order to be able to scare the hell out of people this Halloween, we're gonna need to follow that haunted house's example right? If we're gonna do it, then I wanna be the scariest one there.

Kohaku: Hmph. I'm not scared, but why do I have to go to a place like that with you, Rinne-han.

Niki: Oohohoh~! In that case, I really wanna go to the cafe near the arcade!

Kohaku: Eh?

Niki: Word is that their pancakes are super popular. I haven't gotten the chance to try them yet.

HiMERU: --That's the cafe right on the street corner, isn't it? HiMERU is also interested in going there. If we go to the cafe, then we can also go to the haunted house.

Kohaku: Ehhhh?!

Niki: He~h. HiMERU-kun, it's really rare to see you take part in things like this. Did you want to stop by the cafe that badly?

HiMERU: Yes. Well, there were circumstances that came up. So HiMERU wanted to go there, but hadn't been able to. They truly are famous for their pancakes, but HiMERU was nervous going by himself since most of their customers are women.

Rinne: Oh, nice. Then let's stop by that cafe while we're at it. And you? Kohaku-chan~, of course you're coming along too right?

Kohaku: Ug....ghhhh...

Kohaku: (Why is the one time Niki-han and HiMERU-han are on Rinne-han's side now?! Usually we would have just shut him down....!)

Rinne: What's wrong?

Kohaku: (It's easy to say no. It's actually so easy to say no, but if I do, there's no way Rinne-han isn't going to make fun of me for the next year. I mean just look at that stupid face of his! It's so obnoxious...!)

Kohaku: ....Fine, I got it. I'll go. I am not scared of some haunted house!

Rinne: Alriiight~, it's settled! So that "Crazy:B" wins the number one spot at "ES Halloween" let's go tackle that infamous haunted house!.

(*): CMs just means Commercials. Why didn't I just write that in instead of doing a footer like this I don't know I'm really tired tumblr has not been kind to me lately.

← previous | next →

[galraluver]

Zarkon x Red Paladin Fem, part 4?

I didn't think that this was going to be so popular, so here's another part 🖤

_________________________________________

Almost a deca-phoeb passed since Zarkon captured (Y/n) and she'd come to terms that she wasn't ever going to see her friends again nor was she going to regain true freedom. Living in galra central command wasn't exactly the worst thing in the universe, although she kind of had to be careful around Zarkon because he had some rather obvious anger issues; in a way, she felt like Belle from Beauty and the Beast. Zarkon granted her free roam of central command and status in the empire, at some point she began to fall in love with him a little bit despite knowing she might have had a little Stockholm syndrome. There were times when hints of his previous self showed up in his behavior and that's when (Y/n) devised a plan to help Zarkon return to his previous self instead of continuing to be a quintessence hungry zombie. She was between a rock and a hard place by that point in time, conflicted about whether she should attempt to escape or stay put.

Zarkon wasn't too conflicted about how he felt about (Y/n); she could be a powerful ally, all he had to do was turn her against the paladins if he ran out of plans to get a hold of Voltron, otherwise he wouldn't do it because he needed her to trust him. There were times when he felt somewhat in love with her, he just wasn't good at showing it except for the times when his personality shifted to what it used to be before the incident ten thousand years prior. He didn't mind comforting her when she needed it and he certainly found her attractive, and as time went by she'd managed to earn his trust. One day in particular when Zarkon didn't have anything better to do he decided to visit (Y/n) in her habsuite where he knew she would be, she still preferred the comforts of her new little home because she still missed her freedom. He personally made a snack for (Y/n) using some of the food from his own personal kitchen, but first he made sure everything was edible for humans; he gently knocked on the door when he made it to her habsuite, patiently waiting for her to reply.

“It's unlocked.” (Y/n) called out when she heard a knock on her front door, already knowing who it was; and, as expected, Zarkon walked into her habsuite after the door slid open.

“I've brought you something to eat.” Zarkon spoke with a gentle tone as he walked over to the couch, sitting down and offering the plate to her.

“Thank you.” (Y/n) replied shyly before she took the plate from him, still feeling a little anxious.

Zarkon felt his heart flutter in his chest when (Y/n) accepted the food he gave her, it was a sensation that he hadn't felt in a very long time. He was ancient, he'd been alive for longer than Earth's existence, and yet the young human woman he'd captured made him feel slightly flustered in a good way. One of his main reasons for visiting (Y/n) was because he wanted to take her out shopping at some point, he figured that a day away from central command would do her some good. (Y/n) sat there and quietly ate, feeling a little better after she tasted how good the food was; Zarkon never starved her, she simply hadn't eaten since breakfast and it was almost lunch time. She glanced up at him for a second and saw that he was deep in thought, she couldn't help but wonder what he had on his mind.

“I would like to take you out in a few days to what used to be the largest Unilu swap moon.” Zarkon told her after a few minutes, gazing down at her with a slight smile.

“The old- You mean the space mall?” (Y/n) inquired before she put two and two together, her expression brightening up when she realized that he actually meant the mall; she loved the mall back when she went with some of the paladins, she never thought she would ever get to see it again.

“Yes, I intend to take you to the ‘space mall’ as you put it.” Zarkon answered, his tone a little more chipper than usual.

(Y/n) put the plate down so she could surge forward and hug Zarkon, thanking him for offering to take her to the space mall again. A lot of possibilities rushed through her mind about what she might find at the mall; she would obviously want to go to the Earth store to see what was in stock, she really hoped there would be some books or other things she liked in stock. She hoped that she could find her favorite snack there, the martian usually kept snacks from Earth in stock for anyone who liked them. Zarkon was a little surprised when (Y/n) hugged him out of the blue, he'd never seen her act in such a way and he liked it for some odd reason. For a moment part of his old personality showed itself for a few seconds until they stopped hugging each other.

“Why now? Why are you offering to take me out to the mall all of a sudden?” (Y/n) questioned with a nervous tone, hoping that she wasn't overstepping any boundaries.

“Can I not treat you to a day out whenever I please? I'm not expecting anything in return, if that's what you're concerned about.” Zarkon inquired, feeling slightly awkward all of a sudden, and yet he hid it well.

“I- W-well, yes, you can. I just wasn't sure why, that's all.” (Y/n) answered in embarrassment, feeling stupid for questioning him in the first place.

Zarkon assured her that it was alright; he wasn't offended by (Y/n) asking him why he was taking her out to the mall, in fact he kind of expected it. He watched as she began eating again, not missing the blush that suddenly appeared on her face. He hadn't personally been to the space mall since his time as the black paladin, he wondered exactly how much it had changed since then. Zarkon rarely left central command at all; the only times he did go somewhere was when he had to check in with certain planets, he otherwise never saw the need to go anywhere else. He genuinely felt kind of excited to go out with the former red paladin, although he would have to give her a disguise in order to prevent anyone from recognizing her, but until then he would just go on with life until the day of their trip came.

[brandnewhuman]

Love and Mercy

Part 1

☆STARRING☆

Michael Audrey Myers

CONTENT

Tw: canon violence, major character death, mature language, mentions of toxic relationship

A/n: BROS I HAVE FINALLY DONE PART I OF MY ZOMBIE READER IDEA. I had to do a multiple parts cause it was getting kinda long. I DON'T KNOW HOW MANY PARTS I WILL MAKE CAUSE I WANTED TO MAKE THIS THING WITH OTHER SLASHERS TOO SO YEAH. I know I'm on a hiatus but while I'm at it I wanted to post something more than my usual garbage content. I hope you like it

Michael has never been the type to show mercy nor love. He in fact has never been able to explain why he let you live, which he can only justify by saying you were a necessary bad. Something he had to keep around in order to use it and get what he needed. He thought that one day you'd bring your life to an end by doing some stupid mistake, by giving him the single push he needs to get annoyed enough to kill you. 

With time he had to come to terms with the fact that, even if he didn't know how or why, he actually wanted you around. 

You could say, at some point, he started to feel some sort of affection. He thought of it as a very small and weak flame inside him that with its warmth just annoyingly tickled his mind from time to time when he looked at you for too long, nothing that could justify why it was so hard to actually get over with it and kill you. Against every fibre of his being the flame started to grow, but how couldn't it if you kept acting like that? Waiting for him awake, cooking his favourite meals even when you've could simply give him something like a sandwich just to make sure he was eating properly, medicating every single scratch or wound he came back with as if it was some sort of fatal injury, asking him all those questions without expecting an answer and always being content with being able to at least talk to him, just overall looking at him like you were looking at an actual human being. He has never felt so…real and alive. Being the shape was great and all but his whole life he has been treated as some sort of urban legend or myth, a ghost story used to scare the kids into being good. He always felt like he was not an actual person who breathes, sleeps, who was a kid once or that thinks and feels. But you, you made him feel like Michael was someone real that has existed before the shape and that was still there. He could've come back home after doing the most unspeakable and brutal acts, and you would still look at him with all that confusing kindness and empathy. For the longest time he thought you were just stupid but then, thinking about it and after spending time with you, he didn't mind you being this kind of stupid that much. 

It was kind of frustrating because at some point, he couldn't really tell when it all started to make him feel guilty. He may not be the best at communicating but he's not stupid and he's really good at observing people. He knew that deep inside you longed for someone to care about you the same way you were taking care of him but he just wasn't capable of it. You always said it was okay, that you felt happy with just being together but he couldn't stop beating himself up for never doing enough. Everytime he looked at you he saw reflected in your kindness, his own ugliness and all the things everyone has ever said about him. They were all right about him, they have always been but he actually managed to fool himself that maybe it wasn't true. He spent so much time under your gentle light that he, even if not for long, started to think he could actually be something else than what everyone has set him up to be. He believed every word you said, telling him that he just grew up inside the box other people put him in, that he didn't have to be evil if he didn't feel like it. 

You made everything so much better, he kind of wished you didn't. Cause if he never knew how good it felt to be loved so unconditionally and so raw he could've then lived a life without you. He wouldn't have to feel like you have left him behind to go somewhere he can't reach.  If you have been less intoxicating, making him actually fall for your lies and giving him a taste of something he couldn't really have forever, he would've been able to kill you when you needed to. 

It all started with you catching a cold, something stupid really, you weren't even that worried and you seem to be doing fine as always. Somehow that cold started to eat at you like some kind of illness, your skin full of colour and warmth started to get ghostly and cold, your eyelids found difficult to stay open more than halfway and overall your whole body seemed to be getting weaker and weaker. He had to watch how you were slowly slipping off and all he could do was just pester you into going to the hospital, which obviously you didn't even want to consider. He couldn't ask for help, he couldn't help you himself and you were too weak to tell him what to do to make it better. The situation was too much even for him and all he wanted to do was run away as far as he could and hide until everything got better. You kept saying you wanted him close to you cause he made you feel better, even though he always felt like you knew what was going to happen and you just didn't want to be alone. He wasn't able to say no either way, he could never say no to you. 

He didn't leave your side and for the first time he got to repay you all that care you have given to him. Everything he did seemed useless, not any amount of care or affection seemed to stop your body from withering away under his eyes. 

All he could think of was every what if that could've changed all of this, every single one of them ended up with always the same answer blaming him for everything. 

He didn't show how much he cared, he never gave you what you deserve and has come to take for granted that you would always be there, that you would always be just..you. 

He was actually there when it all happened. He saw everything that he liked about you, but never made it known, decayed and started to look like a really macabre replica of what you used to be. He had to look in your eyes as your very soul started to vanish into oblivion, leaving behind your body to be consumed by the virus. You initially went really cold and stiff, he couldn't even touch you part because his hands were shaking so much and part because he couldn't find the courage to actually feel your body being dead. 

He swore that for a moment the air felt so heavy he almost felt like he was drowning just by breathing. He wanted to scream but his vocal cords were so atrophied by years of silence that all he got were muffled and painful noises, his heart beating so fast that it felt like it was growing with each beat. He just crumbled to the floor and had to remove his mask before passing out, a hot stream of tears was freely bathing his cheeks and his face was contorted by pain. 

He has never suffered this much as he was now kneeling on the floor, trembling and running his hands through his hair. 

It felt like dying but not quite as peaceful, he literally felt the hand of god crushing him down and stopping just in time for him to breathe before starting all over again and again. He felt the need to rip his own heart out of his chest to make it stop, to make everything stop hurting. Or at least to squeeze his lungs enough to attempt to scream the pain out, even though he knew it was an endless kind of pain that was going to just keep growing until there was no more Michael but just the aftermath of it. 

In the midst of his own breakdown he tried to hold your hand, almost forgetting that your death was the reason for him to feel like this. As soon as your cold hand met with his barely warm one he snapped his gaze to you. 

Everything stopped, there was nothing left for him other than watching you. That was the only thing he had left and he intended to do it for hours if necessary.  

He gently brought your hand to his cheek just as you wanted him to do so many times, he kept staring at your emotionless face and his brain got more and more quiet as he took in fully the fact that he would never see you again. Sure, he could look at your corpse for eternity but it was just that, a corpse. He couldn't help to feel like he has consumed you, that your love for him after not being reciprocated has kind of poisoned your entire system. He revisits everytime he has denied you a hug or a kiss or even some comfort when you were literally crying your eyes out, all he sees is little pieces of you going bad and rotting until they all made you sick. 

He has now to live with his never given love. To feel it go sour and bad inside of him but never having the pleasure of being killed by it, just to be reminded every day forever about what he has done.

He lays next you, holding you close to him while trying to find a little bit of that warmth you always had. Hours pass by and he's still there holding you and watching, taking a few every single detail of your face to burn it in his brain so he never forgets you. 

He was never going to get over you, and for a moment when he saw your hand moving he thought that God was real. His mind was already full of energy and motivation to keep all the mental promises he has made of being the man you deserved. All those promises were about to become his doom since Michael got more than what he bargained for. 

[what-gs-watching]

"If you have to ask, you're streets behind."

Welp. This week on What G's Watching: comfort shows.

Because gang, I got (somewhat surprisingly) laid off yesterday. Internal politics, blah blah blah, a lot crying, a lot of beautiful messages from coworkers, some insomnia, more crying, cleaning random things, turning my airpods up as high as they go and screaming through playlists. You get it. 

So if I thought I was watching everything before, just kidding. It's about to get so much worse. Which means, right now, I need comfort shows.

Today's comfort show highlight? Community. A pure and beautiful masterpiece.

Here's the thing: I watched Community from the beginning. Like, when it started airing weekly on NBC in 2009. From the very first episode. Because I'm ancient. I was a fan of Joel McHale from Talk Soup (oh yeah, we're going back that far) and I would have watched him in anything, so I was down for a show about a community college, hell, I'd even gone to one for a little bit.

But it's so much more than that. It's hilarious and real and way too meta for most people and all of the characters are imperfect and ridiculous and some of the plots are so dumb, but it makes you feel things. 

The overall point of the show was that Jeff was a lawyer who lied about having a bachelor's degree and got caught so he goes Greendale Community College to replace it. He lies about having a spanish study group to hook up with a blonde in his class - Britta - and ends up creating an actual study group with the help of Abed, who I'm not gonna lie, might be my favorite character. 

Group of the usual suspects, right: 

- Jeff is the handsome manipulative one (I'm still not quite sure why Joel McHale is handsome, like, its WEIRD but I'm here for it)

- Britta starts out as a chick in her late 20's who maybe got lost along the way and was trying to clean her life up and then she kind of becomes a caricature of herself later on, but it works

- Shirley's a mom going through a divorce, wanting to start her own business

- Pierce is a rich old guy that's been going to Greendale for years just for something to do (Chevy Chase returning to TV, which sounds great but then it gets weird behind the scenes)

- Abed is sweet and magical and likely on the spectrum (and the best unreliable narrator)

- Troy is a former high school football star that suffered an injury (he's Childish Gambino! Before anyone knew he was Childish Gambino! But he will ALWAYS be Troy to me)

- Annie is young and a perfectionist and a control freak who had a pill addiction that landed her there (Allison Brie becoming Allison Brie)

and it starts out as you would assume it should, but it gets unexpectedly hilarious. And I give that credit to Dan Harmon. For his flaws, Dan Harmon is a tortured genius and I will, and mostly do, watch anything that man is involved in. He puts shit in your face that you never wanted but in a way that makes you laugh out loud and then hurt a little bit, for a while. 

Honestly the charm of the show comes from the fact that it never truly takes itself seriously. Abed relates to the world through media (hi it's me, I'm the problem, it's me) and he insists time and again that they're in a tv show. Episode about everyone turning into Zombies because of tainted food at the Halloween dance? Completely plausible. 'Bottle' episode because Annie lost a pen and she can't fucking take it anymore, someone must have stolen it? Yes. Series-running story about the "Ass Crack Bandit" that drops a quarter on you when you least expect it, resulting in one of the best episodes of the later seasons? 100%. 

Abed deciding that by rolling a dice to see who goes down to get the pizza being delivered, six different timelines are being created? That one will knock you on your fucking ass. And it makes no sense, but it really, really does. 

This show has given me a lot of random things that still rattle around in my brain, even now N rewatches deep. Way back when offices were a thing, I'd once shouted "BOOKS!"when it was particularly quiet and a single engineer stood up across the room and just pointed at me, incredulous. After that he and I didn't stop terrorizing the entire team with random quotes. I still find myself humming 'Daybreak' (IYKYK). Yesterday while I muddled through my feelings I started yelling "I'm high as hell and I'm about to get SHOT!" It's infectious, it gets in your bones.  

The best part of course is the relationships, complicated but sweet and endearing. Troy and Abed form a friendship that makes me sad almost because it's childish and pure for a while and it does (what I think, I'm not an expert though so who knows) a pretty good job of portraying the bond that can come out of accepting someone on the spectrum wholly and fully. 

They build a blanket fort. They pretend to have their own morning tv show (🎶Troy and Abed in the mornnnniiiing 🎶). They dress up in coordinated Halloween costumes. They get obsessed with Inspector Spacetime (we're gonna get to Doctor Who, I promise). They spout off the best random Spanish rap and create 'Baby Boomer Santa'. They invent the Dreamatorium. They pillow fight for hours because they think if they stop, their friendship will end. 

The two of them desperately make you wish you had a friend like that in your early twenties to just get real WEIRD with, because they'd always go along with it and have your back no matter what. I still, very much, want to build a blanket slash pillow fort half as majestic. (Which, maybe I should. I have a fuck ton of time right now.)

Honestly, Community is one of those things I sometimes measure people against. Seen it and loved it? You rank a little bit higher with me. Season 4's your least favorite? it's okay bud, we all agree. You wanna use your name in poorly concocted puns? That's you're i-dean-tity, I'm with it. You found something that's streets ahead? YES. Be my best friend.

I know a lot of people feel a certain way about Friends, like, oh they're the friends everyone wishes they had, but I'm sorry. No. The friends you wish you had are the Greendale Seven. And there's too many moments and too much to go into here, but you need to trust me on that. Because they're all just flawed people trying to do better in a flawed place that manifests a little bit of the mania we all feel. And it lets you feel it, but it always wraps you up safe at the end. Jeff always brings it home with a perfect Winger speech. And sometimes I really wish life was a little bit more like that. Because sometimes we suffer a fucking gas leak year in our existence, sometimes it's like that, and it'd be nice if everyone just shrugged that off, if everyone just accepted the fact that we're all flawed, selfish people is actually a strength. 

At one point in the first season, Abed gets obsessed with "The Cape" (which was a real show, y'all) and he's skulking around in this ridiculous get-up and Jeff yells "That show's gonna last three weeks!" and while Abed runs off he yells "SIX SEASONS AND A MOVIE!"

During the show's run, #sixseasonsandamovie became a mantra, because it was always on the brink of cancellation - season six was revived by Yahoo Stream, which isn't even a thing anymore - and I still think about that when I want something to last. I want #sixseasonsandamovie for everything that I love. I want everything to have that little bit of magic and faith. 

I started my latest rewatch a couple of weeks ago, compelled to seek out the comfort for some reason, my brain trying to tell me something was wrong. My brain had been right. So yesterday I eventually climbed into bed with puffy eyes and I got back into season five. I'm already into the part where the show starts to dismantle a bit (the second half of season 5 and all of 6 are distinctly different but still perfect), and that makes sense for me right this second, it's fitting. Sometimes things fall apart. Sometimes people leave. Sometimes you have to clone yourself in a game of 'the floor is lava' so you can properly say goodbye. 

I'll finish it again in the next couple of days I'm sure, and I'll put it down for a while (until the next time my brain is trying to tell me something). But I'll be thankful I had something to turn to while I attempted to sort myself out. 

Greendale is always the perfect place to sort yourself out.