#one that’s she has funny enough sold out three times before

[idekwtf-is-happening]

Seeing people on Twitter trying to hate on Taylor swift is so funny like, she’s living in their heads rent free as they scramble for reasons to hate her

[neil-gaiman]

Hello Neil, my name is Zalean. If you have a few minutes, I wanted to tell you a little story. Not really a question and I’m not sure how to use tumblr but I wanted to say thanks so much for coming to Florida a few months back and talking with Art Spiegelman. It was my first time ever figuring out how to buy tickets for something. I lived in, middle of nowhere, Vermont for most my life and had no idea what I was doing, I had never been to anything before, nothing had made me excited enough to do the 5 hour drive. And then you just appeared 20 minutes away from where I am living now.

See, I was just starting to get to know your books and work because I fell in love with Good Omens so deeply when I discovered it during season twos release. Funny thing is, I knew of you all along without even realizing it, Stardust has been my favorite book and movie since I was a kid because it was my dad’s favorite story. Finding out my two favorite things were actually connected, I started trying to get hands on as many of your books as I could. I hadn’t read in years before finding your books. It was eye opening.

The talk event at the Dr.Phillips Center was sold out by the time I knew about it, someone had asked me if I knew of the event when they saw my Good Omens keychains my mom had made me. I called the box office because there is no harm in asking. I explained how I’m an art student at UCF and desperately wanted to be inspired and learn from you both. The customer service people were amazing and ended up calling me back to get me a seat in the orchestra pit before they were released to the public. I drove alone, I walked there alone, I sat alone, and it was worth it. I was so thankful to get a seat and grateful to my professor who was a bit jealous he didn’t know about it but let me leave class early to go because of course the art professor would be understanding for any learning opportunities in the arts. And it was truly wonderful, it seemed real and that’s what I wanted. I didn’t want a show. I just wanted to hear, in some sense, that you were like everybody else. I brought a notebook and pen for any information or story’s that I thought made a difference to my little life. The other people around were wonderful, you inspire kind people.

Like I said, I had never been to anything like this and I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t know you would have signed books and I only found out because the people next to me came in late. I asked them why they brought the books after it was over and the lights turned on. They did look at me like I had three heads for a moment until they realized I didn’t know there were books to buy, they looked kinda sorry for me but they were so nice. I had never really thought about the importance of someone’s scribble before this but it’s something that proves you were there. It says “Remember when this person made you happy? Remember when they changed your life? Remember when they gave you hope? Look at this and remember.” I hope to see David Tennant and Michael Sheen to get an autograph now that I understand the meaning behind it a bit more but honestly I just love diving into everyone’s projects, the wonder you all create. Oh what fun it is to live a life full of stories!

The people that were sitting next to me let me look at their signed books and hold them. I flipped through some of the big ones, handed them back and expressed my gratitude just to be in the theater. I showed them all my little quotes I wrote down, I never want to forget why I create things and you say so much about never stopping, always creating. Then the women handed me a different book, a smaller book, but when I tried to hand it back, a bit confused, she softly placed it back in my open hands and said “I want you to have it, we have plenty and I want you to love these stories just as much as we do. It’s just starting for you, I want you to remember who started it”. The book she handed me being“The Ocean at the End of the Lane”. The first book I decided to read by you and had just finished a week before. The women had no idea she given me a signed copy of the book that made me want to read again. Your books make the world better. For such a big theater and such a big stage, I just wanted to tell you my little point of view.

The story you told about wishing you enjoyed the past more than you did, I hope you get to enjoy it now, and I hope you want to. And thank you, to you and to Terry Pratchett for creating something special. I convinced my dad to watch Good Omens with me over December break, he loved it.

I forget sometimes that everything is someone's first time, and then I read something like this and feel like I need to remember that better. I'm glad the people beside you were kind.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-down AU Part 16

Part 1 Part 15

Steve doesn’t know Eddie well enough to be able to tell if the way he’s bouncing is excitement or nerves. Either way, he’d all but bolted up to sprint to the phone hanging from the wall in the kitchen. It’s an ugly beige and has one of those chords that you can twirl around and around your fingers as you talk.

Steve and Will stand a few paces back, watching as Eddie picks up the phone, and presses it so hard into his ear that he’ll be able to hear the ocean out of it.

Eddie’s bouncing on his toes, but as the seconds tick by, he slows, then stops, heels planted to the ground. He hangs up the phone, hangs his head, planting his palms on the countertop like he needs its support to stay upright.

“He must be at work,” Eddie says.

Steve inches forward, laying his hand on Eddie’s shoulder and squeezing. The other boy takes a shuddering breath, before turning around, shrugging out of Steve’s hold.

“Do you want to try your parents?” he asks, looking Steve’s way.

He swallows the lump in his throat, forcing the words out. “Nah, they’re out of town.” He waves his hand breezily, like he couldn’t care less about his empty house. His absent parents. “Maybe we should try Will’s Mom again?”

Eddie’s eyes look sad and soulful, wet like Bambi’s. But he doesn’t say anything, just turns toward Will who’s still dawdling by the refrigerator. “We should try your Mom again,” he says. “But didn’t you say the Demogorgon came?”

Will wilts, the smile blooming on his face dropping before it’s even fully formed. “I think the phone got fried anyway.”

Steve’s not jealous of a pre-teen. Especially one trapped in a hell dimension being hunted by monsters. That’d be too fucked up to comprehend. “Dude, she loves you,” Steve says. “She definitely bought a new phone within like, thirty seconds.”

Will Byers beams, clearly a Momma’s boy through and through. Steve Harrington is not jealous, really. He’s not.

“How long ago did you talk to your Mom?” Eddie asks.

Will scuffs his already scuffed shoes against the carpet. “This morning, I think,” Will says. “But then the Demogorgon came, and I was running away when you found me.”

He says “found me” like Steve and Eddie are the best thing to ever happen to him. It runs through Steve like an electroshock, sends his skin buzzing in a way he can’t tell whether it’s invigorating or frying him from the inside out.

“Okay, so we should wait a little bit,” Eddie says, walking back and forth in front of them like a general to his soldiers. “Chill on our laurels, get some sleep, and come at this thing fresh eyed and bushy tailed tomorrow when the risk of Demogorgon sighting has gone down.”

Will bounces on his toes, once, twice, three times before seeming to catch himself. Oh, god. There are two of them. Steve may not survive long enough to meet Byers’ Mom, and it won’t be from a Demogorgon attack. It’ll be from two over-enthusiastic nerds.

Steve sighs. “What’re we going to do until then?” Steve asks. “It can’t be bedtime yet, just look at the sun.”

The twin looks of condescension he gets for that one are identical enough that he has to dig his teeth into the laugh that wants to burst out.

But then they look at each other, and it doesn’t seem all that funny anymore. Because Eddie’s smiling like the grinch right before he robbed all the who’s down in Whoville, and Will’s puppy-dog eyes could be charged as a lethal weapon.

“We could play D&D?” Will asks.

Steve groans slapping his hands over his face and rubbing them down harshly, even though the game is sort of fun. Even though it might be more fun with three people. Even though he was sold the moment that Will Byers looked at him with those eyes.

“Fine!” he says, throwing up his hands. “Let’s play your stupid nerd game.”

They gather around the coffee table, Eddie and Will leaning against the couch, Steve an island all on his own on the other side.

“Will, do you DM or should I?” Eddie asks, like the title is something grand to be bestowed upon someone. Like Will just got named Prom King and he’s asking if he wants the crown on his head.

“Maybe you can this time?” he asks, looking up at Eddie through his fringe.

Eddie nods. Steve settles his elbow on the table, sinking his cheek into his palm as the implications of “this time” run through his head.

“What’s your race?” Will asks, eyes glued to Steve.

Steve lifts his brow, shifting his gaze to where Eddie’s cringing away from Will. “We’ve, uh, sort of been playing with training wheels on?” he says, like it’s a question.

“Class?” Will asks, looking horrified. “Stats?” Eddie grimaces. Will sighs, turning back to Steve. “Do you have a character?”

“Sir Steven.”

“He’s definitely a human fighter,” Eddie mumbles, fidgeting with his rings like he’d committed some horrible sin.

“Okay, well, you’re supposed to roll the dice when you create a character so that you know how your character will react to things. Does that make sense?”

Steve nods even though it doesn’t, ignoring the way Eddie scoffs. Will fishes a little bag out of the pocket of his vest, dumping a pile of black dice. Steve recognizes the one with the twenty sides, but there’s a square one, a triangle one, and one shaped like a diamond he’s never seen before. He kind of wants to put them in his mouth, maybe swallow them.

Steve rolls a die for each stat, nodding along like it all makes sense. Eddie runs into his room for paper and a pencil, dutifully writing each number down.

When he passes the paper to Steve, he doesn’t know whether he should be insulted by the number for intelligence or flattered that Munson apparently thinks he’s charismatic. He keeps his mouth shut, not wanting to drop his score any lower.

Steve nods along while they discuss modifiers and alignments, but something of his confusion must show because Will and Eddie dial it back.

Will’s character is some sort of wizard who can cast spells and shit. He talks about his figurine, which Steve deduces is a little action figure like he saw in Munson’s room specific for his character, and the costume his Mom made for him to play, expression faraway.

They play. It’s more complicated this time, and when it becomes clear that Steve is struggling, Will scoots to the other side of the table to help point out which of the dice he should roll and what math he should be doing.

It’s fun, and they kick Xanthar’s ass, even if Steve’s pretty sure Eddie takes it easy on them. He tells himself it’s for Will’s sake, but the glimmer of humor in Eddie’s eyes makes it hard to hold onto that sentiment.

Will’s jaw-cracking yawn as they go over the story (campaign?) signals the end of the night. The poor kid’s eyes are drooping.

“Alright, bedtime for all the kiddies!” Eddie says, jumping up far too energetically for the end of the day they’ve had. “That means you, Harrington.”

The bed’s not big enough for all three of them, and Eddie’s bedroom doesn’t have enough floor space, so they huddle together in the living room. Will takes the couch after a thorough browbeating, huddled under two blankets and what must be Uncle Wayne’s pillow.

Steve and Eddie move the coffee table so they can sleep beside the couch, keeping their bodies between Will and the door. They make a nest of Eddie’s bedding and pillows.

Will’s breathing evens out quickly, poor kid. Steve stares at the ceiling. The silence drills into him until he can almost feel it, making him tense and tense until Eddie scoots close enough that their arms are touching.

The single point of contact seeps warmth into Steve’s bones. He closes his eyes, reveling in it.

“Should we really be wandering around with a child when there’s a monster running around?” Eddie asks, his breath whispering against the shell of Steve’s ear.

With his eyes closed, it’s easy to picture that thing, the Demogorgon. The way it’s claws curved, the way its face opens, and then opens again. The sound it makes. So, no. Steve doesn’t want that thing anywhere near the kid, but—

But.

“We’ve got to get him home, Munson.”

Eddie sighs, breath tickling the flyaways along Steve’s hairline. “Yeah,” he replies. “I guess we do.”

Steve falls asleep before Eddie moves back away, that single point of warmth following him into his dreams.

Part 17

[traveler-at-heart]

Finding Home - Part 3

Summary: This is a series imagining what it was life for Natasha after joining S.H.I.E.L.D.

Warnings: Violence, injuries.

Part 1, Part 2

There were only five people in the room.

“Jericho missiles” Fury says as soon as the door is shut. Clint looks at you, alarmed.

“What are those?” Natasha says and Maria turns to the screen.

“Developed by Tony Stark. Selects a target, at a certain height it splits into 16 smaller missiles to have a cleaner impact. The shockwave is also more devastating”

There’s footage of tests conducted in military facilities playing on the screen.

“Obadiah Stane sold five of these to the Ten Rings. Stark was able to destroy them all. Or so he thought” Fury pushes three identical folders in the direction of Clint, Natasha and you.

“There are still two” Clint confirms after skimming through the file.

“At an abandoned factory, close to the Canadian border” Natasha reads out loud, going through all the information at record speed.

“So on a scale of one to ten, how heavily guarded are these bad boys?” you ask Fury.

“They have grenades up their asses”

“So, like a seven”

“Not funny, Agent” he warns, but you turn to Natasha, who let out a small chuckle.

“She thinks it is”

“It will get old really fast. Trust me” the man says and she rolls her eyes. “You leave tomorrow, before the Ten Rings decide it’s time to light up the sky in an American city”

“Let’s go over strategy today. Natasha’s suit and weapons should be ready” Maria proposes.

“I’m looking at the Widow Bites” you interrupt.

“Farley said that if you messed with his tech again he’d quit” Fury reminds you.

“Good riddance. He’s an idiot and she’s not going on a mission with faulty equipment”

“Fine. Hill” Fury nods in confirmation and they leave the room.

“What was that?” Natasha turns to you, but you shrug your shoulders, projecting the map of the factory and reading the file.

“Oh, now you’re modest about it?” Clint teases. “Y/N here is an MIT graduate. Mechanical Engineering, top of the class”

“It was a small class”

“If she wasn’t an agent she’d be running the design department. Made my arrows ten times lighter and faster. Deadly too”

“That’s enough. I just want to make sure Nat has the best equipment” you wave dismissively, still looking at the map.

It’s an important mission, yes. But your priority is Natasha.

—

“Fucking Farley” you mutter for the tenth time, making Clint chuckle.

As suspected, the Widow Bites have a short range and the voltage isn’t enough to incapacitate enemies, so you’ll be fixing that as everyone else discusses the plan.

“Y/N is coming in first. Once she disables the security, Romanoff and I will go set the explosives for the missiles” Clint says, going over the map of the warehouse.

“I’m not leaving her alone” Natasha says and while you keep your eyes on the Widow bites, correcting the wiring, you smile.

“It’s fine, Nat. It’s my area of expertise. I’ll hack their systems, keep an eye out and will join you once the explosives are set” you look up, nodding her way. Maria walks in, looking over your shoulder. “Tell Fury he needs to kick fuckface Farley to the curve”

“Noted, Brains. Which one of you will be Brawn?” Maria turns, smiling teasingly at Natasha and Clint.

“I’m Beauty” Clint says, turning to Natasha. “Romanoff?”

“Sorry to break it to you, but Natasha is all three” you say, removing the magnifying glasses and stretching your back. “Is it dinner time yet?”

“Our order should be ready. I’ll pick it up” Natasha offers, taking the car keys.

“Don’t forget about the…”

“Extra rice, yes” she rolls her eyes and Clints follows right behind, ready to take a break.

Maria sits right next to you, and you don’t need to turn around to know she’s staring.

“Yes, Hill?”

“So when are you asking her out?”

“Pardon?”

“Oh, come on” she pushes your chair and you roll away, annoyed. “You compliment her, she knows about your special order, the pining and the heart eyes”

“I’m one of the few people who treat her like a human being. That’s all” you say, hoping it’s the end of the conversation. Maria throws you a paper ball, just like in your academy days and you snort. “Ass. Yes, I like her. But she’s barely had a life. I can’t ask her out and make it awkward. Natasha needs to live and experience things and once she knows what she wants… maybe I’ll do something about my feelings. Until then…” you point at your friend, and she nods, motioning as if her lips are sealed.

You just hope your feelings for Natasha won’t get in the way of this mission.

—

The air is colder than you anticipated.

“Good to go?” Clint says, looking over his shoulder. You try your comms and go over the equipment. Once you nod, he lowers the jet, counting down to prepare you for the fall.

“Be careful” Natasha says. It’s the first things she’s said to you since you left headquarters.

“Chinese for dinner?” you say with a smile, hoping that it will ease the tension. Natasha nods and you wave, jumping into the darkness.

The landing is a bit rougher than you would have wanted since the parachute was dragged around by the wind, but nothing is broken and you can disable the security alarm in the hatch.

From there, your next stop is to the control room. There’s only one man monitoring the cameras, and you knock him unconscious before he can reach for his gun.

“I’m in. You have twenty minutes” you announce.

“Got it”

Out of pure curiosity, you look over at the computer on the side, browsing through the files.

“Clint” you say as you stumble upon Stark’s designs.

“I’m kinda busy” he says, installing the explosives around the warehouse.

“They have intelligence on other Stark weaponry. Should I make a copy and then clean up their files?”

“Proceed. But be on the lookout, we’re almost done here”

“I can multitask” you say, pulling out a drive to copy all the files. The encryption will have to be done later, but for now, eliminating everything they have should be enough.

Either way, the entire building is blowing up in a few minutes.

An alarm blares across every hallway, and you look up, surprised.

“What the fuck, Y/N? We’re not done here” Barton barks, clearly in a hurry to finish the job now that you’ve been discovered.

“It wasn’t me” you say, frantically looking at the cameras. There’s a man with long hair that frames his face, covered up to his eyes with a dark mask. “We have company. I’m locking the doors on your side, exit through the vent”

“That means you won’t be able to get out” Natasha protests.

“I’ll find another way and meet you. You have to go. Our friend here seems to be… in a hurry”

Your blood runs cold when you see him punching his way through the guards. He is a super soldier, judging by his strenght and now you’re trapped with him on this side of the building.

“Fuckfuckfuck”

Pulling the drive to your pocket, you leave the room and go to the side farthest away from the man.

The thing is, he seems to be going through the walls instead of using doors, so the distance grows smaller with each of his steps.

“Natasha is gone” Clint informs you as you’re sneaking around. That makes you stop in your tracks.

“Bullshit”

She wouldn’t.

“The minute we were out she ran away in the opposite direction. I’m on the jet now. Give me your location”

“East side of the…”

The sound of metal and concrete cracking surprises you from behind, and you come face to face with the man.

He takes your gun and twists your arm, but you aim at one of the pipes in the ceiling to give you a few seconds to run. You can feel him going right behind you, dangerously close.

“The building is blowing up in five minutes, Y/N” Clint says.

“Thanks, I’m trying not to get killed by fucking Frankenstein” a heavy metal arm pulls you down, punching you two times until you’re gasping for air.

He then kicks you down a couple of stairs, and you hang on to the railing by an inch. Once he glances over to check if you’re still alive, you shoot at his eyes, protected by the mask.

Wrong move, as he’s not pleased in the slightest.

Dropping a few feet to the ground, you begin to run down the exit.

A few things happen at the same time.

You turn and see Natasha, breaking a door. You smile at her. Of course she wouldn’t leave. Her eyes widen, and when you turn around, the man is raising his gun.

Two shots and then you’re down, hot liquid spilling down your stomach and leg.

“Y/N” Natasha screams, throwing Widow Bites to the man. His arm is briefly paralized and Natasha takes advantage of the moment to help you up. You limp against her, feeling the building shake.

“Come on, Clint is waiting outside”

Luckily, the ceiling behind you begins to fall, putting some concrete between you and the man.

The next minutes are confusing, since you struggle to remain conscious.

“HQ, this is Barton. We have an agent down. We’ll be there soon” you hear Clint report. There’s a pressure in your abdomen but you can’t look down. “Natasha, I have to fly this thing, keep her awake”

“Y/N” the woman says, trying to stop the bleeding. “Look at me. You can’t fall asleep now”

“I’ll be fine. You were great today, Natasha. I knew you’d be a great agent. Would you tell my mom that I…?”

“Tell her yourself”

“Don’t be a сука” you mumble, your eyelids heavier.

“What is the one thing you always wanted to do?” she asks, desperate to keep you talking.

“I always wanted a cat. My sister’s allergic” you drag your words. But then, you turn to the redhead, smiling. “What about you?”

“A rollercoaster” Natasha says without hesitation. Your smile grows.

“We’ll go to Connie Island, it’s gonna be so much fun…”

“Y/N, stay with me, don’t close your eyes”

But you’re too tired to listen.

—

“Her family should be here any minute” Fury steps in, eyeing your bruised face. Three surgeries later and the doctors think you have a pretty good chance of recovering.

Natasha and Clint are sitting by your side, their eyes glued to the monitor that keeps beeping.

“The man… had any of you seen him before?”

“I thought he was a myth” Natasha says, the image of the metal arm and the symbol on it etched on her brain. “They call him the Winter Soldier”

“KGB?” Clint guesses.

“HYDRA”

“That’s ten times worse” Fury sighs, turning to the Russian. “We’ll need your help to figure out who he is. But for now… nice job”

“I should have done more” Natasha says when Fury leaves the room.

“She’s alive because of you” Clint protests. “But you should let me know, I thought you were running away. When you want to pull a rescue, at least tell me where to fly the jet”

“Ok” the redhead nods.

“Let’s get something to eat. You know Y/N wouldn’t want you to starve yourself”

—

When Natasha and Clint come back to your room, Maria is talking to an older woman. She has eyes like yours, and a smilar hair color, which makes Natasha think it’s your mother.

“You saved my daughter” she says as soon as Natasha walks in. Your mother hugs her tight, thanking her.

She has no idea that this is all new to Natasha, especially the hugging part.

“Let’s go over some forms” Maria rescues the redhead, walking the older woman to the door.

Her words echo and Natasha goes over them till she loses count.

She’s never saved a life before. She never had someone thanking her for keeping a loved one safe.

Maybe, there’s hope for her after all.

—

It’s been a few days and you have yet to open your eyes.

Natasha stays next to you, and reads out loud the way you did for her. Your mom is in the couch, knitting as she listens, keeping an eye on the girl.

Even if she’s not aware of Natasha’s circunstamces, she can tell there are strong feelings involved between you two.

“How long have you been at SHIELD?” the woman says, examining the green pattern on the scarf she’s knitting.

“Not long” Natasha tenses, hoping it won’t be necessary to bring up her past as a former assassin.

“Y/N’s father was in the CIA. Her sisters were more… I don’t know. They argued over clothes and wanted to wear makeup. Y/N would work on cars with her dad or build stuff”

“That sounds nice”

“It was, yes. Drives me crazy that she risks her life for a living. But it’s in her blood, I guess”

“She’s a great agent. And a wonderful person. You did a good job raising her”

“You’re too kind” the woman says, pulling the scarf and presenting it to the redhead. “Here. This color brings out your beautiful eyes”

Natasha is hesitant as she takes the green scarf, inspecting the fine knitting and feeling the softness of the fabric against her fingertips.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you”

“Thank you. For saving her. I’m happy to know my daughter has wonderful partners. I like you, Natasha”

“I’m glad to hear that, because I kinda gave her the secret pasta recipe” you say with a weak voice, making both women rush to your side.

“Oh, sweetheart” your mom says, running her hands through your hair.

“Sorry to make you come all the way here. I know you hate flying”

“No, don’t be silly. Plus, I’ve spent some time getting to know Natasha. You guys make a great couple”

“Ma!” you protest, the monitor beeping loudly as your mother teases you. “Would you be a dear and get the doctor? I really want to eat something that isn’t hospital food”

Your mother rolls her eyes, but leaves and you stare at Natasha.

“Thank you for saving me”

“It’s nothing”

“It’s not nothing. I’m alive because of you, Natasha Romanoff”

“I guess it’s our thing, isn’t it? Saving each other” she smiles, her hand inching towards yours.

“Yes. Yes it is”

—

The doctor promises you’ll be discharged in a few days, but there’s a long road ahead for your recovery. At least six months without missions.

Fury stops by, surprising you.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, eyeing the box of chocolates that Maria brought you. “You mind?”

“Help yourself, boss” he picks a sweet and nods approvingly, clearly stalling. “Come on, you’re not one to sugarcoat things”

“The drive you took. It does have some very detailed information on Stark’s tech. I know we discussed an undercover mission a while back… but I decided to send Natasha instead”

“As what? I was supposed to be a new engineer on his team”

“Legal. Close to Pepper Potts. And hopefully, Agent Romanoff will charm Stark”

“Oh, Nick. Come on, not the playboy angle” you protest. There’s an unpleasant feeling at the pit of your stomach as you imagine Natasha dealing with Stark’s advances.

“It is what we have, Y/L/N. Take some time, recover and come back. I have a feeling we’ll need all the help we can get”

“Yes, Director Fury” you nod, as Natasha walks in. The man nods, and you can tell he trusts Natasha now. It’s a relief.

“How are you feeling?” Natasha says, pulling the usual chair next to your bed.

“Happy that I get to go home. soon Not so excited over my mom running around my place cleaning and complaining”

“I’m sorry. I wish I could stay but…”

“You have missions. I heard you’re booked and busy, Agent Romanoff”

“Well, yes” she smiles, blushing lightly.

“Is that what you want? Because that’s all that matters to me”

“I want to do good. Clean my ledger”

“You’ll do great. I know it” you reach for her hand, smiling.

“I could… put it off. For a few months. It won’t be a big deal”

But you can see how eager she is. To prove herself she’s so much more than the Red Room. That she’s not just the Black Widow.

She’s Natasha Romanoff.

“I’m not going anywhere, Nat. You’ll always have me. Ok?”

“Ok” she nods, looking away, but keeping her hand in yours.

Deep down, you knew this was only the start of your journey together.

[swaps55]

Dark Star

Ao3

Unlike most of the soirees Garrus has been to lately, the food is actually good. The Citadel’s superior supply lines aside, maybe it’s a good sign that all the times he’s stuffed himself into dress robes to put on a show for diplomats and, as Shepard likes to describe it, ‘bludgeon his way through bureaucracy,’ is actually accomplishing something.

Some days, putting a galaxy back together feels a lot harder than saving it in the first place.

Tonight’s party, thrown by the volus as a welcome mat for what is sure to be three days of grueling negotiations over how to prioritize who gets the new – and extremely limited – soil reclamation technology developed by the salarians, is actually more tolerable than most, if only for the company. The humans tapped Shepard to be the figurehead of their delegation. When Garrus asked him about humanity’s position on who deserved the higher share of devices fine-tuned to isolate and neutralize contaminants left behind by reaper corpses, he’d just laughed.

“Did you even know what this whole conference was about?” Garrus asks, handing him a fresh whiskey and Alenko a beer. The key to these events is to hit the bar hard and fast while the stocks hold out, and right now there is a lot of turian brandy. He’s not getting enough credit for juggling three drinks through a crowd without an incident.

“I think Ambassador Cartwright was trying to explain it to me, but I wasn’t paying attention,” Shepard replies, taking a sip of his drink. The band is loud – most everything at these receptions are a little over the top, as if they can force the galaxy back together if they’re cheerful enough – but the elcor singing backup vocals is surprisingly good.

Alenko snorts, but before he can elaborate on his disdain, another uniformed human puts a hand on Shepard’s arm and asks to speak with him about the keynote address he’s supposed to give in the morning and probably plans to make up as he goes.

Shepard gives Alenko a save me look before allowing himself to be towed to a quieter corner of the Silver Coast Casino, which doesn’t really exist.

“He wasn’t listening because he was thinking about all the ways he could incapacitate the guy,” Alenko says, never one to let a good dig go, even if the recipient is no longer within ear shot.

“Of course he was,” Garrus replies, tugging on his sleeve. He’s not sold the yellow stripes were a good choice, here. “That’s why I’ve learned not to stand near windows around him.”

A puzzled look passes briefly across Alenko’s face before he laughs it off. “Yeah. Exactly.”

Garrus flicks a mandible. Jack had brought up Shepard’s one-size-fits-all tactic of booting uncooperative mercs out skyscraper windows every chance she got on the Normandy. It hadn’t exactly been funny at the time, but then again, nothing was, and when there’s nothing good to laugh at you stretch the boundaries of what’s funny until something qualifies. Dark, maybe, but it had been a running joke for so long it had just become part of Shepard’s zeitgeist. Sure Alenko hadn’t been there, but it’s hard to believe that no one had told him that particular story. Especially Shepard. They talked about everything. As Shepard liked to confess, repeatedly and insistently, when he was drunk.

Hm.

Read the rest on Ao3

[steddieas-shegoes]

Request: actor Steve??? Singer Eddie at the grammy's??? Eddie's band winning a Grammy & Eddie proposing to Steve accidentally in his speech???? & Steve crying and nodding yes but he is in tears & can't stand up??? Ok but then at the Oscars Steve actually proposes on stage because he had broken his leg & Eddie helped him on stage. But his proposal is the same as Eddie's because he also asks during his speech & Eddie cries and they get engaged again ❤️❤️❤️❤️

BABYYYYYY!!! NOT ONE, BUT TWO MARRIAGE PROPOSALS?! YES! PLEASE! I love the idea of Steve being prepared to propose to Eddie, has a whole plan, and then Eddie gets so emotional when he wins a Grammy that he does it before Steve gets a chance. Steve CANNOT be outdone, so obviously he does it too. We love love! - Mickala ❤️

--------------------------------------------------

Somehow, against every odd, Eddie Munson made it.

Corroded Coffin, through hard work and a pinch of luck, were nominated for a Grammy.

They’d spent years climbing their way to the top (hard work) and finally got signed to a huge record deal when an agent saw them opening for a metal band at a festival (pinch of luck).

Their first album broke records in ways that hadn’t been seen since Metallica stepped onto the scene.

Their first tour sold out in minutes.

Their second album had a lot of hype to live up to, and according to the Grammy nomination, it far surpassed the expectations.

He hated that Steve couldn’t walk the carpet with him, but he was happy he was waiting inside with all the significant others of the band.

Probably already drinking wine and champagne. Maybe even shots.

Dammit, Eddie hated walking the carpet.

Steve was a fun drunk, but he was even more fun when he’d only had a couple. His filter shut off, but he wasn’t quite at the point of bitchy. He was silly.

Steve was rarely silly.

Fun, funny, happy.

But never really silly.

Not like Eddie was.

But after a couple drinks? Downright clownish.

Eddie tried to rush through the remaining interviews, and the guys could tell, throwing him shocked looks. Eddie loved the spotlight, so it probably was a little shocking.

When they got inside, they were stopped by just about everyone who lived on planet Earth.

Eddie was ready to grab Steve and run.

Fuck the Grammy.

But he couldn’t do that. This was a possibly once in a lifetime thing. Wayne was watching at home even though he “doesn’t have time to watch those stupid awards.”

If they did win, Eddie had to give a speech, they had to go to afterparties, he had to fuck Steve against the window in their hotel room.

He shook his head, trying to clear it of any of those thoughts. Now wasn’t the time.

He walked into the main room, suddenly overwhelmed by the crowd and the vast expanse of tables and seating and stage area in front of him.

He caught a glimpse of Steve at a table not too far away, laughing at something Jeff’s wife, Amy, was saying. She’d almost skipped tonight, her pregnancy far enough along that getting all dressed up didn’t sound remotely appealing. But then she’d heard Steve was going, and she’d called her sister to alter her dress immediately.

Gareth’s fiancé, Sam, was sitting away from everyone, still not sure of her place in the group. They’d had a bit of a whirlwind romance, and Eddie would be more worried if Sam wasn’t completely head over heels in love with Gareth in high school first. But she’d only just met everyone a month ago, and this was the first public event she attended with everyone. She was visibly nervous.

Grant’s wife, Savannah, was clearly trying to make conversation with everyone.

And Eddie knew that Steve and Amy weren’t purposefully making it harder, but they certainly weren’t making things easy for her.

They were laughing so much, he couldn’t even be sure they were laughing at something.

He sidled up to Steve’s side, plopping down in the empty chair to his right.

“Eddie! Amy’s here!” Steve smacked his arm excitedly.

He was at least three wines in.

“I see that, sweetheart. Hi, Amy.”

“Hey, Eddie. He’s drinking for two,” Amy smiled fondly as Steve took another sip of wine.

“And she’s eating for two!” Steve said as he reached out to touch her belly. “I can’t believe I don’t get to have your babies, Eds.”

Eddie snorted. Amy let out a loud laugh.

“I’m sure we can give it our best shot later tonight,” Eddie whispered in his ear, smirking to himself when he saw Steve shiver.

They all continued chatting, occasionally getting interrupted by guests: producers, musicians, agents, even some kids who were big fans.

When the show started, Steve was drifting. He’d had maybe one too many, and he’d reached the sleepy part of wine drunk a lot sooner than he should’ve. Maybe because he barely slept last night. Maybe because Eddie fucked him in the shower and the couch and the bed, and then woke him up early to fuck him on the counter before he had to leave for an interview with Good Morning America. He was tired.

Eddie was tired too, but he was used to a lot of late nights and early mornings over the last couple of years.

Plus, he was running on so much adrenaline at the thought of winning a Grammy, he was pretty sure he could stay awake for another 12 hours.

Steve’s head rested against Eddie’s shoulder, his hand entangled in Eddie’s.

For seven years, Steve’s been his biggest fan, his person, his everything.

And for three years before that, he was his best friend.

He was there at grungy bars, outdoor festivals in rain or shine, that one fundraising event at the mall that was a total disaster. He was front row at their first opening gig for a Midwest metal band, and front row at their opening gig for Ghost. He was backstage for their first headlining tour, in the studio when they recorded their first and second albums, and on the tour bus when he could miss work.

It only made sense that he was here for this.

He wanted him here for everything.

This wasn’t the first time he’d thought that, probably not even the hundredth. He’d wanted to marry Steve for years.

But Steve was focused on building his own career, and Eddie insisted that he do what he wanted to do no matter what Eddie did with his career.

It meant a lot of time apart, a lot of FaceTiming at weird hours of the day or night because it’s the only time their schedules would sync up, a lot of missing each other.

But they believed in their relationship the same way they believed in each other, and they kept making it work.

He had a ring. He bought it years ago. Wayne had it so Steve wouldn’t find it, but they’d already planned on him taking it with him on his next stop in Hawkins.

He let himself relax a bit. Had a glass of wine, then champagne, and a beer. Their category was almost the last of the night, so they were able to relax for a while.

Steve knew a lot of people in the industry because of his acting career, but he’d made it very clear tonight was about Eddie to anyone who tried to talk to him.

The night was long, longer than Eddie could really handle.

His nerves were through the roof and Steve had fallen asleep on his shoulder.

When their category was announced, Eddie nudged him awake gently.

“Hey, sweetheart. I’m either about to be a Grammy winner or get a lot of great sympathy sex from you,” Eddie whispered in his ear as a camera guy settled in front of their table to get their reactions.

Steve was suddenly wide awake, the realization that this could be one of the biggest moments of their lives making him grip Eddie’s hand like a lifeline.

“And the winner for Best Metal Album is…” the announcer paused for dramatic effect. “Corroded Coffin with Reanimate!”

The whole room was cheering, but their table was going wild.

Steve jumped up the moment they said Corroded Coffin, jumping up and down and pulling Eddie up on his feet.

The next minute was a blur as they made their way to the stage, his boys surrounding him and clapping each other on the back excitedly.

They’d all worked hard for this, dealt with endless bullying in high school because their music was different, fought through the struggle of trying to appease bar owners and small town festival organizers with “softer” music so they could get in front of the right people. They spent thousands of dollars they realistically didn’t have to travel to places where metal was more welcome.

They had to take out personal loans to get studio time to record a demo and send it in to every record company they could think of.

Steve gave them 25% of his inheritance to buy their first tour bus because “it’s a good investment, and it’ll save money on hotels and eating out.”

When they got to the stage, Eddie realized that he’d have to speak.

Shit.

He’d kind of prepared a speech, but he also didn’t want to get his hopes up too much so he’d just let it go.

“Uh, wow. Okay. Thank you guys so much!” He started. He could just barely see the faces of everyone at their table, but Steve’s beaming smile was enough. “I didn’t prepare much other than that because I just didn’t think we would win. I know we’re talented and we work hard, but this is the biggest award you can win in the music industry and we still have a long way to go to really feel like we can even be in the same room as most of these talented musicians.”

He was killing it!

“I need to thank these guys up here with me, all the guys who work with us in the studio, everyone who makes tour possible, my Uncle Wayne, who probably is crying but won’t admit it when I talk to him later.” Everyone laughed. “But I have to thank Steve more than anything. I think the guys would agree he’s been the guy there for us through everything. He’s not just my boyfriend, he’s our first and biggest fan. Sorry to all the wives and future wife at our table.” More laughter. “I don’t know where we’d be without him, but I really don’t think I’d be who I am if not for the way he loves me, the way he’s always loved me. Even when it’s hard, even when we go months without being able to see each other, we find ways to make us work. We keep doing the damn thing even when the damn thing is hard. I didn’t plan to do this tonight, and Wayne is gonna kill me, but Stevie, sweetheart, I can’t go another day without knowing. Will you marry me?”

The room erupted into cheers, the guys on stage jumping up and down. He saw the camera guy zooming in on Steve’s reaction as they broadcast it on a screen by the stage.

But Eddie didn’t need the screen. He could see the tears streaming down Steve’s face as he cried, his smile bigger than life as he nodded.

“He said yes!” Jeff yelled.

The crowd cheered louder as Eddie handed the Grammy award to Gareth and ran down the stairs back to his table.

Steve jumped into his arms, wrapping his legs around his waist.

Eddie’s hands immediately went to his thighs to support him, and Steve’s hands cupped his face.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” Steve sobbed out.

“I can’t believe I haven’t done it earlier,” Eddie responded.

They kissed in front of the hundreds of people here and the possibly millions watching at home.

It was one of the best kisses they’d ever shared. The room around them went quiet, at least to them, as their lips moved against each other passionately, but with a gentleness they rarely had with each other anymore.

They pulled apart after a few more seconds, foreheads resting against each other as they caught their breath.

Eddie gently let Steve down, using his thumbs to wipe away some of his tears and giving him a beaming smile.

“Wayne’s got the ring. I have a feeling he’ll be making us come for a visit very soon so I’ll put it on you then,” Eddie whispered.

The rest of the band had trickled back to the table to collect him for post-win interviews backstage, but he couldn’t go without one more kiss.

Steve gave it willingly, always giving love in whatever way he could.

“Okay, I gotta go answer some questions. We’ll be quick,” he said with one more kiss to Steve’s forehead.

“Love you. So proud of you,” Steve said as he pulled away.

“Love you so much!”

—---------------------------------------

Steve’s engagement ring glistened in the spotlight hitting their table at the Oscars.

The Oscars.

Steve Harrington, almost Munson, was sitting at the Oscars because he was nominated for two awards: Best Actor in a Drama and Best Actor in a Comedy.

Eddie was sitting next to him, somehow more nervous here than he was at the Grammys.

His leg hadn’t stopped bouncing up and down since they sat down 20 minutes ago. The other people at the table were luckily good friends and didn’t think anything of his anxiety.

Eddie never got nervous before shows, or interviews, or photoshoots, or even his award shows. But when it came to Steve, he was a nervous wreck.

Before auditions, before appearances, before red carpets. He was on edge whether he was with him or not.

Tonight was no different.

They’d had incredibly busy schedules after the Grammys, only seeing each once over the last three months. But Eddie had told his manager nearly six months ago that he would not miss this for any reason, that Steve supported him at all of his big events, and he wasn’t going to ask permission to support his fiance, he just was.

Except it turned into more of Steve supporting him as the night wore on, the realization that Steve could very well win both categories keeping Eddie strung out.

It was actually a little cute.

The comedy category was first, and he had tough competition. Anytime you’re going against people like Jonah Hill and the people at Disney you have to be ready to lose.

And he did lose. Well, Eddie kept saying “it’s not a loss, it’s just not a win”, which was really the same thing.

But Steve wasn’t as upset as he expected to be. Comedy wasn’t really his forte, he’d only done a handful of comedy movies and shows over the last few years, and none of them were major roles.

It was the drama he cared about.

He’d put his heart and soul into this film. It was regarded as the breakthrough queer film of the year, up for enough awards tonight to be considered an Oscar Sweep.

He never would have gotten here if not for the man next to him, so he could handle his nerves easily.

“Drama is next,” Eddie breathed out, his hand squeezing Steve’s knee.

“I know, baby.”

“What if you win? Oh my god, what if you don’t? No, no. You’ll win. This is your best work. Seriously, don’t know why I would ever think you wouldn’t.”

Steve smirked as the announcer started saying all the nominees’ names.

The camera focused on him was probably capturing a lot of Eddie’s mumbling under his breath, but luckily they weren’t mic’d up so it would be easy to explain away.

“The winner for Best Actor in a Drama…Steve Harrington!”

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Steve I can’t feel my legs, I can’t feel them. Or my arms. I think I might black out, oh my god,” Eddie immediately turned to him with tears in his eyes.

“Baby, I need you to help me on stage. My leg’s broken, remember?”

And that was a pain in the ass. His last role required some stunts and Steve was an idiot and insisted on trying one for himself. It didn’t go well and he’s lucky it was just a broken leg.

Steve kissed Eddie’s lips softly, quickly, to get him to focus.

“Right! Okay,” Eddie stood up and held his arm out for Steve, who was using a single crutch to get around this evening instead of two. “Off we go!”

Steve giggled, and nodded at people clapping as they passed them on their way to the stage. Eddie was so busy looking ahead, trying to get him to the final destination safely, he missed the announcer making a joke about Steve earning the drama award by breaking his leg.

When they got on stage, Steve stood at the mic while Eddie stood at the side of the stage. He was crying, much like Steve had when he got his Grammy award.

“Sorry for taking my sweet time. As you can see, I thought I was able to do what stunt actors do and forgot that they’re actually very in shape and talented.” The room laughed. “Hey, no laughing, I didn’t win in comedy.” More laughter, louder this time. “I have to thank everyone who worked on this film; It’s truly one of those films that will continue to change lives. It was the most difficult job I have ever had, and I am so grateful for everyone who gave me the chance to prove that I could do it. I’d like to thank all my kiddos, who aren’t kiddos anymore, for all yelling at me in the group chat when I almost turned this down because I didn’t think I could do it. My agent, who goes through a lot of amazing opportunities but always manages to find the perfect one.” Steve looked over at Eddie and let himself finally tear up a little. “And Eddie. Can’t forget that guy. My support, literally.” He saw Eddie snort out a laugh between his tears. “Would not be standing here without him and not just because he had to walk me up here. Every time I thought about giving up, he made me go to one more audition or read one more script. Every time I’ve not gotten an offer I really wanted, he’s been there to remind me that there’s something better coming along. Like this one. I’d been turned down for a show I really wanted the same day I sent in the audition tapes for this role. I cried for hours on the phone with Eddie and he told me, I’ll never forget his exact words, ‘You’re meant for better and better will find you.’ And it did. But the best is you, baby. You’re the better that is at the beginning and end of all my days. I could never work again and I’d still be the happiest guy in the world because you’re mine and you want me just as much as I want you. Eight years ago, I was closeted, telling myself that the way I felt when my best friend hugged me was just because he was my best friend. Now, I’m winning an Oscar for playing a queer man in a deeply moving film about finding love for yourself even when love from others isn’t an option. I’m marrying you, that best friend who probably knew exactly what he was doing when he hugged me. And I know I’m wearing your engagement ring, and we’ve already set a date and picked the cake, but I feel like I should ask. Eddie, you’re the only one who gets me at my best, and you also get me at my worst and still love me anyway. Will you marry me?”

He watched as Eddie’s brain ran through a million options at once, finally settling on joining him at the microphone.

He pulled him against his chest, hand against the back of his head.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, it’s a yes. Fuck, yes,” Eddie sobbed out.

The crowd was cheering, and the cameras were circling around the stage getting every angle of the moment that they could.

“Next time you’re on this stage accepting an award, you’ll be Steve Munson,” Eddie teased.

“It’s got a nice ring to it,” Steve said against his shoulder.

They pulled apart enough to kiss, much like they did at the Grammys: soft, passionate, but slow.

“Do you have a secret ring hiding at Wayne’s too?”

“No, no ring. Just wanted to show the world I love you as much as you love me.”

“Oh, so it’s to show off. Got it,” Eddie poked him in the side, smirking when he laughed. “Get your trophy before they kick us off the stage.”

Steve grabbed his award, waved to the crowd with one final thank you, and let Eddie help him off the stage.

They were getting married in three months, honeymooning in four. They’d just bought their first house together, spent the last seven years renting apartments wherever life took them. They started talking about taking a break after Corroded Coffin’s next tour and Steve’s next movie so they could start a family.

They had so much to look forward to.

But most importantly, they had the backseat of a limo entirely to themselves on the way back to the hotel.

If they left a $500 tip for cleaning after, it was their business.

[dianaladrislovebot]

gone headcanons that have popped into my unhinged little brain, part 7

hey there buckos i just realised the last time i did a hcs post was three months ago and we were well and truly due for a new one so here’s an extra detailed one for yall <3

i heavily dislike the way lana’s powers work so im deciding all she really does is speed up the healing process. if something was going to scar if it healed naturally then it scars when she heals it. she can’t heal scars.

on this note, bc i’m an absolute sadist and enjoy tormenting my children, i don’t think there were enough physical disabilities that came out of the fayz due to lana just healing everything. the only one really was like,,, drake losing his arm and that’s not enough for me. that shit was a war zone and they only have the mental scars to reflect it rather than the physical. heaps of kids just straight up died but if they have a healer then why was there no middle ground ? what happened when someone gets injured and lana’s not around to fix it ? bc of this several kids ended up losing limbs bc i said so.

also on this note, some main characters that i’ve decided have major scars : sam kept all the scars from drakes whip, getting shot in the knee, getting chained by gaia etc. astrid has a ringed scar on her neck from the rope in hunger. diana has a gouged scar on her head from drake. caine is covered in burn marks from the thanksgiving battle and all the times he’s fought sam. also has scars on his forehead and hands from penny. all the cemented coates kids have scars on their hands too. some of them go as far as having minor nerve damage in their hands. edilio lost a finger and frederico (who disappears after the first book bc i’m pretending he didn’t) lost an eye. dekka has a huge scar on her shoulder from where the greenies got her and jack had scars from where drake got him in fear. if brianna had survived, im deciding she would have had burn marks on her face and would have lost a leg. it makes more sense to me for gaia to keep her alive to retain her power but make sure brianna can’t use is anymore.

drake has brown eyes. like so brown that if the light doesn’t hit them they just look black. i think it makes him much more menacing (i commissioned a friend some gone art and they suggested brown eyes and i’ve never been so sold on something so quick)

before the fayz, mary liked to knit.

sam is allergic to tomatoes. this has no lore implications i just think it’s funny.

diana listens to emo music. think early 2000’s p!atd, fall out boy, pierce the veil, falling in reverse, mcr, bring me the horizon, etc. she hides it bc, well, it’s 2008 and emo’s got bullied so heavily in the 2000’s it’s not funny 😭

a lot of people think drake and caine were roommates at coates but personally, i don’t think drake had a roommate. i don’t think they’d let him lol. i like the idea of frederico being caines roommate

sam taught quinn to surf. sam always gave me more surfer vibes than quinn as quinn always felt more “weird exuberant guy most people avoid” yk so sam teaching him to surf after they become friends is really cute

[volcanocraft]

cw: night terrors, distressed language, and post-traumatic stress

These posts may not be very interesting or informative but i like writing them. I haven’t ruminated on this part of my life in that much detail before the last post on it. I don’t know many people with night terrors so heres my personal experience with them.

I am unable to pinpoint when it started. maybe two years ago and it has gotten more volatile since then. i would wake up in a cold sweat (literally drenched) feeling afraid of something, my body kicked into hypervigilance, but not being able to figure out what im even scared of. Its a weird feeling because you feel simultaneously silly and exasperated and shocked no one is doing something all at once. i can recall some parts of my terrors as soon as i wake up but lose the thread hours later. i know that the theme of these dreams usually repeat in different scenarios but i legitimately don’t think it should cause me the distress it does. my dreams do not resemble the flashbacks i experience when im awake and thats where i’m like whats going on dude

I was not the one who found out about these terrors. looking back, i probably had some sort of idea but was never sold on it. I regularly share a bed with a friend and they’re the one who told me that I was very distressed in my sleep.

Often I will scream or cry-yell, unfortunately loud enough that I wake up my friend and my dog. Other times i’m upset but coherent. I legitimately don’t know what I say in these instances and have to be told them. That’s probably the most embarrassing part of this whole thing because it's always stuff like "fuck off! get off of me! I'm scared." or "get away from me. please just stop" or "why can’t you just listen?” and even typing this out makes me feel so fucking lame HAHA because i really am okay the morning after

This has never personally concerned me. The only time I’ve seriously considered it as a problem is when it becomes physical. I flail, toss and turn, and all that good stuff in my sleep. On occasion I will have a violent dream that causes me to start kicking or punching or jump out of bed. sometimes i will not recognize whose beside me and start freaking out and try to defend myself. Other times I’ll bang my head on the wall or kick it and have been known to punch or fight the wall, which is kind of funny, but i do end up having a sore foot or hand because of it

i think it comes in waves. for a while I had them track me and have been doing really well. three weeks ago I suddenly started again, and it’s been happening practically every night since then, save one or two days. I’m not medicated for my parasomnia specifically, my doctors don’t take it seriously and I’m tired of pushing it. Again, I do not think it’s that big of a deal. I have been waking up distressed for a long time now and I’ve come to terms with having the same sorts of dreams over and over again. It sucks but it doesnt impact me in noticeable ways other than getting consistent rest. It very much sounds worse on paper and I’ve been doing mentally very well recently. it’s probably a side effect of my mental disorder and the symptom i care about the least. My friend has encouraged me to speak to the professional i see weekly (I don’t know how to describe her, she does social work by trade). if this goes anywhere ill be very surprised and then whatever man I suppose owe you 50 bucks. the end

[delyth88]

X-Men rewatch part 4

Next up was X-Men: Days of Future Past.

Now this one I had actually seen before, and very much enjoyed, but it is so much better having watched First Class as well. Funny that. XD

I love me some time travel shenanigans, and this delivered. The dystopian future was really rather grim and I'll be seeing those images in my mind for a while yet I imagine. :/ The sense of inevitable doom was strong! I ended up watching this over three evenings, so perhaps that's given it more impact than it would usually have. And I felt they did a really good job tying the present with the past here.

Random thoughts...

OMG! I did not see Erik actually killing Wolverine coming. I feel like that was a line crossed, and I'm interested to see if that plays out in the last two films of the younger generation. I mean I guess we see that plenty in the original films, but in that case it was always with the hope that things might improve - it's a lot harder to watch things going in the opposite direction. And just how isolated Erik is now - that can't be good.

I didn't remember how the main plot played out, but I love that Mystique created the opportunity for a positive ending, although I'm a little unsure why she didn't just let Erik carry on? Might have to watch it again. Oh noes. Was she wanting to reduce the number of casualties but still get Trask, or something else?

I have enjoyed how Mystique has been a much more important and well developed character in these films so far than in the original trilogy. Makes her feel less like the exotic naked woman thrown in for fun which it kinda felt it was to me in the earlier films.

And Charles. Beautiful heartbroken Charles. I loved his story. While I'm not entirely sure they sold the reasons why quite well enough, it was clear that the last few years had NOT been kind to him. I loved his exchange with Erik on the plane. And I can very much empathise with the desire to block it all out and stop caring so much - and to have a means of doing that, that also coincidentally allows you to walk again - it would have been irresistible.

I thought the conversation with his future self was a good way to push him along the right track and to tie the two eras together. But man, does the message of holding on to hope and working for something better ring differently in 2024.

And I'd forgotten that the impact of these changes meant that Jean was still alive. I did very much enjoy Wolverine walking stupidly around the mansion working out what was going on after he woke up, and his conversation with Charles at the end. Sometimes you just need the soppy ending.

The whole thing with Peter breaking Erik out of the Pentagon, I'd forgotten about that. I've seen that video clip floating around on Tumblr so often now (the one where he rescues everyone from the mansion) that I can't recall if I've actually seen the movie that's from now (I don't think I have because I think I've now seen all the ones I remember). But the rescue scene was just great fun. And the short line about his Mum telling him his Dad had similar powers now meant something to me where it would have gone over my head in 2014.

I am in very real danger of falling in love with another bunch of characters with tragic backstories in films from the 2010s. Sigh. If there's anything equivalent in modern media that I'm missing, please do let me know so I don't have to catch up on it in 10 years time, eh?

[toguidethewildthings]

Chapter 4 - Rangers of the Immune

(M-ish rating)

Summery - Altered by Vault Tec to withstand the radiation, Carrion walks the aftermath plagued with a guilted sense of servitude since she can withstand what they can not. The Ghoul has found her again and needs another favor. Their dance of crossing paths sparks another adventure. But… after what happened last time….

Drink Me. Drain Me

A/N — So, this first section is kinda like the first chapter where I wrote it as the running imagery of a song. It’s not as well placed as the first chapter… but it’s there. So… if you liked it the first time and wanna follow it again, the song is “Little Girl Gone” by Chinchilla. Let me know if you do and how these last two attempts have gone, the descriptions I have to write kinda lag against the song and is the hardest part of the translating which is why descriptions kinda get skimmed over. If this isn’t working, please let me know. It works in my head. lol.

This is also a bit of a sexier chapter. Bout time, right?

Enjoy :)

Drink Me. Drain Me.

Years have passed since the dropping off the bombs. Not too many, but long enough for settlements to spring up as houses are built alongside their businesses that are built around taverns where booze is sold regularly and the paths between establishments have been well etched from travelers and traders. It was a time where there were still Rangers and they were well known, but enough time where damage had been caused and a day or so would go between messages on the pipboy.

Midcountry, Carrion had traveled this way with a few others like her, but tonight was on her own, sitting at the end of the bar much like how she stood at the edge of her jurisdiction. Her team was simple and small. Rayze, Carrion and Splice. Two of three of whom are women, which those two of three had quickly realized they were still seen as a target to a different breed of aggressive human. Sex still sells though, and it was the oldest business in existence..

The three had split up. The plan was to stock up before they went back to New England, but money was low which is how she had chosen this bar in bum-fuck nowhere to casually wait out and find a victim.

And a victim she did find. Across the hall, a face had appeared that had dragged out out painful memories and a distorted anger as he was the cause of all of her current hells that plagued her as she walked the rest of her life through this wasteland. None other than Cooper Howard has taken a seat alone at a table, drinking his own misery away. She knows that outfit anywhere.

It’s funny how a wig and some make up and a small change of characteristics can alter the entirety of how a person is remembered. She's not dressed as a Ranger.. nor a maintenance worker. She’s dressed more like a resident just looking for a good time in this hell.

(Song start) She approached, he let her sit. She bought him a drink. He bought her one. Neither used their real names. They laughed, much flirting back-and-forth, him, completely engrossed in the personality and the prospect of sex that he completely ignored the fact that the feeling of attraction was not so much of lust, but of the ringing of familiarity of someone he once knew.

She stands up first, grabbing his hand, and leading him out. She told him of how she liked it rough and he was quick in his way to push her up against the wall as they both began to kiss in the darkness between buildings. The bodies grow hotter, the touches deeper, and before he knew it, drunk off alcohol and lust, he’s lured back to her house, pushing the door open and stepping her through the threshold with hardly a resonance of its location. She helps him take off his jacket between whispers and fleeting kisses, but when she tries to take off his hat, his hand pushes down quickly and he shakes his head no.

“The hat stays on,” he smirks, quick to pick up and push away any argument, kissing her again over her neck and jaw as hes slipping his hands around her waist. Shed more than happy to shrug it off, not that it really mattered to her in the end. She quickly takes a hold of the sensation and brings them into the bedroom where she unbuckled and unfastened his pants as he slid the dress straps from her shoulders. Where she was undressing, he’d only unbuttoned shirt as much as he’d allow, correcting her with a sharp correction to the face he'd pick up with his mouth and teeth, again showing his still persistent intentions but that he had rules she'd have to follow. With a deep drag of his fingers over her back and a sharp bite just over her breast, he left her standing in her bra and panties posed between his legs as he lowered himself on the edge of the bed, sliding his fingers down her thighs.

He was far more aggressive than she remembered. The wasteland had turned him into something more calloused and less of the casual and weak worded cowboy actor that could hardly throw a punch outside of a photo shoot. She wanted his hand around her throat, and he obliged, skillfully. She wanted his nails into her back, and he obliged again, roughly, but when she finally pulled away instead of following his pull to his cock as he sat with his pants strewn on the floor, she took a step back and smiled.

“I have something for this,” a wicked smile played on her teeth bruised lips as she started to her closet. “Something rough I think you’re really going to enjoy.”

Her hand lowers to the door handle, Cooper smiles a dark and toothy smile as he takes her body in, his chest heaving with the heavy beat of his heart and pulse in his groin.. And the ecstasy that runs through his veins and in the air… well they both shared that.

She turned the handle of the closet door and then with one movement, she curves over, touching her toes as a large German shepherd dog leaps from the closet, catapulting off her back and straight into Cooper Howards throat.

Two other dogs much the same weight and size skirted around her feet from within the closet, leaping into the air and latching onto the man’s arms. she smiles as he cries out, falling back onto the bed, body shaking with the rough head swinging of the dogs. She gives a chuckle and turns to see her hounds destroy the foolish, foolish man who had only thought with his cock.

But what happens next just as she's pulling on her pants is unexpected. Cooper was supposed to be in pain and well… dying… But one arm is thrust into the air, bringing the dog across his body and off and into the wall with incredible strength. He does the same with his other one, grabbing the scruff and ripping the dog across his body into the wall as well. With two hands now free, he takes the mouth of the shepherd around his throat, breaking the jaw open by its neck, and throwing the dog back with a painful scream as it landed heavily on the floor by her feet.

“Shit.”

Cooper Howard stands slowly to his feet, his hat has been knocked off, exposing the baldness and radiated texture of his scalp. His shirt is opened, showing the radiated rippled skin on his chest. He was a Ghoul, very early set, but still a ghoul and his wounds were already healing as he rose, staring at her with a murderous anger.

“Shit.”

Everything that would happen next would happen through a flurry of instinct and fight to survive. She stimpacks the broken jaw of her dog as Cooper regains his health, and rushes to the door, alerting them and shoving them out with a command before his hand smashes against the door, slamming shut, and she turns to see him inches from her face.

He takes her by the neck and slams her into the wall and attempts to slam her again, but she’ll take her arm and snap his elbow, forcing him to release her for only the moment she needs to duck underneath him and get to the dresser where she throws open one of the drawers and pulls out a vile of light green liquid.

She’s going to buy her time before she can do anything with it; wait until she can land the perfect hit.. The vial is locked in her hand but he’s at her side unexpectedly fast, his hand around hers, the vial broken into the table top with a slam, sending the glass deep into her flesh and liquid onto her nails.

Perfect.

Now she comes out with the strength of a winner with a slash across his collar where an instantaneous burning erupts across him. He backs off, shoving her violently away as he addresses what is going on. He’s a ghoul, and not much affects him…. So when he feels the pain seeping into his skin and radiating like fire through his veins, he’s confused as he watches the skin around the slash marks turn black.

“What is this?” Cooper demands an answer from her.

“What's what?” she asks, inching her way towards the bed where she kept another one of the vials, but now he was too much in on the threat and would continue relentlessly now that he knew that she had a weakness against him. The struggle would continue but slowly by slowly, he would overpower her as her human exhaustion failed against his ghoul endurance.

He’d smash her back into the dresser taking the rotating mirror and breaking it over her head, sending glass into her scalp. They both grab a shard, she slices for the neck but hits his face, the remnants of the liquid on her hand dripping into the wound. He grabs her arm and slams his piece through her hand and into the wooden top. He cuts her face equally with a swipe before falling back willingly when she sends her foot into his knee, breaking it backwards in what should’ve been a disabling kick.

But now, with distance and a pause between them, she watches him stand tall. With a twitch of his leg he resets his knee, her face dropping further when the wound on his face stops bleeding and he chuckles a dark murderous laugh as he cleans away the blood with a single wipe of his hand. The is wound present, the edges rippling black as the surrounding skin begins to tatter. The poison is in him, but he’s still healing.

She now accepted that she was to fall to his beating, but she had a final card in her sleeve. She knew he was always weak for her as Caroline, so when he came down on her again and she started calling for him to stop, she used a voice that would break into his memory. She’d tell him that she was done, and that he had won and for some reason or another beyond his own understanding, he slowed to a stop against all reasoning. Her face was pressed against the dresser top, glass obviously cutting her cheek. He has a hand around her throat, choking her, but when she cries her surrender, his fingers waver in their grip.

“I’m done,” she says, now irritable as she pushed him away and stumbled off to the side a few steps, wiping the glass from her face, wincing as a few specks dragged over her skin. “God dammit, man..”

He was confused, as a fight like this had never just ended in this manner. Why was she frustrated at him…? And why did he almost feel bad for the amount of blood that dripped from her body?

“God, dammit.” She stumbled away looking at the glass shard through her hand that she hadn’t the time to remove. “I knew I should’ve stopped after what you did to my dogs. I knew there wasn’t any point…. I can’t keep fucking doing this.”

She grabbed his hat and threw that at him angrily. “Fuck you.”

“Fuck you!” He snapped back, unsure of what else to say, but still picking his hat up.

“You lied to me by omission. You didn’t tell me you were a fucking ghoul.”

“Oh, fuck you.” He began to button up the torn shirt. “You brought me here to kill me, you stupid bitch.”

“Yeah, but I made it to level playing field by not getting you too intoxicated so that you couldn’t fight.”

“Like that makes it any better?”

“More fair. But you fucking cheated with not being able to be hurt at all.”

He looks down at his ashy and black dripping chest. It wasn’t blood, but something thicker. He tried to say something else, but she was quick to shut him down.

“Just do whatever you want. Rape me, rob me, kill me…. probably in that order, just do what the fuck ever man… I’m done here,” she reached into the drawer of the hip height table by the door and pulled out a bunch of dog treats to thrust at him.

“Give them to my dogs to pacify them. All your shit is fucking out there; your guns, your jacket, all that bullshit. Just do what the hell you’re gonna do.. but…” her expression wavered as she turned to look at him, “just please don’t hurt my dogs. They’re innocent. They’ll let you by. They were just doing what I asked them to do.”

Before he has anything else to say, she’s turned around and walked away, slamming the door to the bathroom behind her. He stood awkwardly, somehow feeling guilty, even though he was the one intended to be murdered.

He left the bedroom to meet the snarling bloodied mouths of the dogs that attacked him moments ago. Passing the treats, she was right, it pacified them and he was allowed to walk through the kitchen and livingroom before grabbing the jacket and slipping through the sleeves. He shouldered his bag, wrapping his rifle over his back, and lastly holstered his pistol. But just before grabbing the door handle, he turned around when he heard the scratching of nails against the bedroom door. It was her dogs wanting to be with her.

He sighed dipping his head down, he talked to himself, telling himself how this woman had just tried to kill him.. His mind wanders off and he groans before he punches the door and turns around, walking across the house once again and sliding open the bedroom door for the dogs to trot in, tails wagging but ears nervous, completely moved past their attempt to kill just minutes ago..

The bedroom was a mess. Flipped and broken furniture, broken glass scattered everywhere… blood. Everything looked like a murder scene that got out of control but it wasn’t just that, because the moment he opened the bedroom door, the dogs went straight to the bathroom door where he heard her cry out in pain.

He had to talk himself out of this house. Just, walk man. He tells himself. Turn and walk away right now. Why did he feel guilty? He kept asking himself this over and over as he stood in the threshold. What was it about this woman and what she attempted to do that had him forgiving her so quickly and brought him trailing back through her home about to now open the bathroom door to check in on her. He’s angry in his confusion, just about as furious as he was minutes ago. He takes the pistol out of the holster as he stomps across the bedroom, kicking the bathroom door open and brandishing the weapon before pressing the muzzle against the back of the woman’s head, the image of himself in the mirror, her eyes looking at him in the reflection.

Her wig is off, her natural hair black and spikey and shaved on both sides. Her make up has been cleared off, familiar tattoos sit on display. It’s a foggy memory, but he pushes through none the less as with a shove of the pistol, he cocks the gun as their eyes hold.

“I have been to war. Real war and the war of the hell we live in now. I have been attacked countless times in my life and I have never given a damn in the world about how I left a person who tried to end me. I have left the dead on the ground without even a glance back… So…” He pushes the muzzle into her bleeding skull again, “I want you to tell me right here, right now, why the fuck I feel guilty about beating the shit out of you?”

She waits for him to see her. Maybe if he looked long enough at her reflection he’d see who she used to be.. But no… the pistol pushes again and she looks away shaking her head.

“It’s because you remember me, Cooper.”

She turned around in the chair to face him, and indeed there she was in full memory and form.

It was her.

Caroline.

….

“Okay, Lucy,” Carrion says for the group to hear as she pulls a feral over by its chain, the taser stick in the other hand occasionally zapping it haphazardly a few times as she moved into the open space a few yards from the circle where everyone was sitting.

“Remember how I said you weren't a threat? Well.. we're going to work on that.”

The first week had come to an end rather early at Carrions request, and this was the reason why.

The forest would break away tomorrow and they would be walking on scarce land as they passed through the first of a few weathered roads that wrapped the first mountain pass.. A dead land that was far more volatile with little protection from the many more threats. With little space between the lifted mountain wall and the steep drop into the ravine, Carrion knew the chances of anything living being on these roads were high.

The feral raced a few steps towards Carrion who would jab it roughly in the stomach, sending the feral back with an angry hiss. The others winced.

“This is a good game. A game Rambler and I have played many times to hone our agility skills. If you can dodge and disarm an attacking Feral, you can dodge.. well.. just about anything.. Get up.”

Lucy looked around nervously, lastly at Ghoul whose throat emmited a rumble of sorts as his head tilted, edging her over toward Carrion.

“Okey-dokey.” She pushed a chuckle nervously. Pulling out her pistol and walking over.

“You get three shots from your gun. Not including the first to grab its attention. No head shots. We're not killing it, just disabling it. You got a knife or something..?”

Lucy stood like a deer in prebomb headlights, slowly shaking her head no. Carrion turned to Ghoul with an expression that passed blame to him. He shook his head in disagreement.

“Not my responsibility.” He grumbled.

“Taped to the inside of either arm is a short stick. Your goal, is to take both the sticks. I'm not taking the muzzle off, nor the leash.” She explains to Lucy as she tugs on the chain, “so.. don't worry about that. Hands though, obviously.”

The feral noticed Lucy's approach and zoned in on the approaching meal, staggering forward ahead of Carrion.

“Shoot it when you're ready and I’ll release the binds. When you have both sticks, just say so.”

Lucy imagined the times Ghoul and Carrion would play this horrible “game” because she was not having any fun at all. She had never a good encounter with these things, and she was guessing this would be much the same She raised her gun though and took a deep breath, then another to steady.

“Remember, This is more of a movement and quick thinking exercise. Land your shots to disable, move to appropriate the situation. You can't just expect everything to run straight at you and then die.”

She nodded and no sooner than that, pulled the trigger.

While Carrion assured she'd not unchain the creature, she never said she wouldn't let it go. With a pull of the rope around its wrists, the feral was free and ran straight at what shot it, encouraged by a jolt to the spine and the release of its leash. Arms waved erratically, feet picking up pace quickly.

The terror would keep Lucys feet stiff to the spot and had her firing three shots straight into it, the bullets doing little more than twitch its racing body. The two collided and Lucy cried out as the Feral grabbed and pulled her into the muzzle.

Quickly, the taser landed, disabling the creature, bringing it weak enough for Carrion to yank it off Lucy and back a few feet. Lucy, breath huffing and hand on her chest, sat up and looked around.

“So.. What I told you about.. moving… You didn't do that…” Carrion sighed, sharing a glance with The Ghoul, who passed one back shaking his head. Max looked almost embarrassed, his scribe, entertained.

“Again.”

Lucy slowly improved. Her feet swipped to the left. Then the right. Her hands started grabbing and twisting that of the Ferals as she learned to use momentum. She learned how close it came before the proper time to dodge. She learned where to shoot it in the leg to slow it down the most. But in the end, when she was done, tired and covered in dirt, she had only grabbed one stick once. Carrion quit the exercise without a word and lead the feral away wordlessly.

“Why don’t you show me how it’s done,” Lucy snapped, which caught Carrion off guard, tazing the following Feral out of the way as she turned around to look at her.

“Excuse me?”

“You said you and Ghoul used to do this. Well.. I wanna see.”

Carrion would look at Ghoul, dismissing the challenge if he wasn’t going to carry the chain. There’s a moment of waiting before Lucy takes a heavy step forward.

“Well?”

Rambler was up, a saunter to his step, he grins at the familiar activity as Carrion rolls her eyes as she passes over the leash.

“Don’t get in your head.” She discourages him, but it’s too late.

But Rambler is more ghoul these days than she gave him credit for, and far more cruel than she remembered.

He didn’t wait for a mark. He waited until she had walked far enough away where the feral would pick up pace enough to cause damage. Wordlessly, while her back is still turned and attention elsewhere, he unbolts the muzzle fully and releases the chain with no warning, adding with it the adjoining bolt from the taser which sent the feral after its capture like it owned a vendetta.

She heard the commotion but was not ready for the scene. The snapping mouth leads as arms swing ferociously. Its hungry body screams as it slammes into Carrion, but she was fast and ready for that. One hand on one arm, one hand on its shoulder, she shoves it past her using its own momentum to pass by as well as study herself. She grabs the leash, and yanks backwards, the unsteady creature falling on its rear. It flips and twists to stand. But Carrions foot is already breaking out an arm. With her other hand, she yanks the stick from the able arm when it reaches towards her.

That’s one.

And she's too busy to feel the fear that pulses through her veins. She's running off her natural fight responses now, hardly passing a thought as the threat before her is very real and gnashing.

But she had ventured to close in her grab, and the stick was attached quite securely, so the mere seconds she had to pull away, she had lost in the struggle. Broken arm or not, it’s legs bend like a rabbits, and the feral is springs forward, colliding fiercely with her, sending Carrion back with the feral ontop of her.

Rambler approaches wordlessly, taser stick twisting in his fingers, ready to intervene. Callously though, he only watches as she struggles to hold its neck and chest from right over her face. The snapping was a disgusting sound of clashing teeth and bubbled saliva that dripped onto her face. The screaming and grunting was overwhelming. Slowly, her arms are failing, and the thrusting mouth drops closer and closer.

At the last moment she raises her leg, places her knee on its gut and uses the only bit of strength she has to flip the creature over. She releases her grasp, lashing out a punch to its face as it flips; an act of final resort. But this fails too as the creatures bad arm releases her in the headover flip, but the good arm drags her with it; the ferals face twisting with the flip, its teeth snapping, falling into a tight hold on the punching arm. Now on her stomach she’s face to face and the feral drops her arm from its mouth before instantly lunging at her face with a final scream.

The tazer lands on the back of the ferals neck, slamming its head on the ground, inches from her face, close enough to feel the wave of the creature's breath on hers.

She grabs the stick, never forgetting the goal and then retreats, falling over herself as she crawls backwards, fearful and in a panic. Too casually, the Goul pulls up on the leash before pulling the snapping feral away, forcing back on the muzzle once it’s gathered.

But Lucy didn’t see that, or the unemotional shrug he gives before walking back to the steak in the ground. She was watching Carrion, who sat where she had fallen, sticks in her balled hand, a slight shaking to her limbs, every part of her expression indicating that she was terrified and hurting in more ways than one.

The vengeance that Lucy had predicted at the start of this journey would come to fruition that next night. The incident with the feral was a stroke to the fire that never had burned out, but now raged behind the eyes of the ranger.

That late afternoon after the Ghoul walked back to his spot without so much as a glance in Carrions direction, she left the group, sectioning herself a visible distance away but clearly giving no one an invite for company. Ghoul mentioned nothing, and acted as if nothing had happened.

Through their travels that next day, what Lucy mistook as a simmer of silence, had actually been a growing boil of emotion as Carrion, sitting for hours in the saddle of her horse, rode in her steaming thoughts as she watched everyone in front of her. She did not forage or participate in any circle or conversation, she just sat and watched. One she did not watch that day was Ghoul. No, She glared at him with a radiating anger. The heat felt and obvious, but ignored outright by him who walked on, lashes burning into his back. Lucy could feel the heat as well and assumed by the cautiousness of Max and O’Conner, they did as well. They all felt her tension in their own way though never addressed it, and it wasn’t until that night when Lucy and Max wandered off to finally have time just between them was where they’d be interrupted by the echo of arguing which brought them racing back.

Carrion and Ghoul were both on their feet, both aggressive with mele drawn instead of bullets.

“This is what I’m talking about with you.” She yelled at him. “You just.. you just don’t give a fuck about anyone but yourself and worse, you don't care about what damage you cause.”

“Says the exquisite dinner, bitch.”

“You know how to forage just as well as I do! You’re just a lazy piece of shit.”

“Ah yes, because you've always been a productive member of everything you've put yourself in. Never an absolute burden I've had to drag.”

“I may have…”

“I actually have quite a headache from your pedantic bantner. Lend a puff?”

He reaches for her jacket where the inner pocket held her chems. She smacks his hand away, the back of the knife dragging across the top of his hand as fury fills her as he insinuates her vice and greatest weakness vocally.

“No wonder your wife left you, you washed up fuck. I wonder if you can pay alimony with caps,”

The crack of his hand across her face echoed the empty space and after a rustle of hands grabbing each other, Ghouls knife slices her arm deeply. He grabs her and pulls her close and smiles,

“So you know…. I didn’t abandon you that day, darlin. You just.. fell behind.”

Carrion flared her fingers and whipped her nails through his face.

Unexpectedly for the rest of the group, he cried out in immediate anguish, his hands releasing her as well as the knife that landed onto the soft ground as his pain echoed the night. His steps stumbled back, nearly tripping. They watch his hands clasp his face while his back and knees bend over front himself. It was obviously a devastating move, but the others had yet to realize why.

The Ghoul turns as close to feral as the fiery agony and truth of the situation drives him to become. He runs at her before he stands tall against her, faster than what they gathered was his normal. His hands find their way around her jacket before her body is lifted from her feet. At the slight indication of her hand rising again she’s released, her arm grabbed and all four fingers mercilessly broken backwards before her elbow is snapped for good measure before his return to the scruff of the jacket. He’s moving too fast for her to keep up and before she can register, her knee is broken and she’s falling. Nuka, brave but foolish, lunges, but is caught mid air by the throat and slammed onto the forest floor.

Carrion took the opportunity to attempt to crawl away but Ghoul, or Rambler, or Cooper is nowhere to be found in this body and there would be no mercy here. He grabs her by the hair and yanks her body into a backwards bend as he falls into her spine with his knees that takes away all the breath from Carrions lungs.

“Lucy, no!”

Ghoul has already fired his shot. Well placed and landing in front of Lucy’s feet, Max grabs her around the waist and yanks her back.

“Where is it?” He screams at Carrion as the blood pours from his face, something he shows her up close as he continues to bend her backwards, placing the hot muzzle against her temple. She grins and spits upward, hitting him in the face.

His response is animalistic as he slams her face into the dirt before pulling out a large bowie knife. Grabbing her again by the hair hes ripping her back into the agonizing bend.

“Last chance.”

She struggles to get free and with that as her answer, he takes the knife and slices open Carrions throat in a slow, deep drag.

“Dead for dead, bitch.” He hisses in her ear as he sprays her blood before releasing her, pushing off her to stand.

He looks at Lucy again. Begging her to intervene, but they all just stare at his

face which now in the fire light they can see the horrific rotting damage. The cuts have become holes, skin flaps freely, his molars exposed.

“Where is it?!” He kicks Carrion, dragging his spurs over her before targeting everything she owns as she struggles to pull herself up on all fours.. Hes ripping apart her bags inside of bags as he continues to yell at her while she crawls away on one arm, blood spilling from her throat, eyes wide, mouth hanging limply open. Every breath is a forced, clouding wheeze.

“Give me the fucking antidote!”

“Ghoul!”

The feral Ghoul looks at Maximus whose finger wavers towards Carrion, whose laying facedown in a quickly growing puddle of blood. With a heavy wheeze that wracks her body, shes holding up in her bloody hand a small vial, the firelight reflecting on its light blue hew. He stomps over to her, landing his boot on her hand that he plows into the ground. His other leg straddles her and he lands heavily on her back.

“How do I use it?” A cruel question because she can’t answer. And he drops more weight onto her suffocating body. “Do I just…”

Her thumb weakly wavered upwards and he was off her. Uncapping the bottle as he takes a few steps away. He drenches the slash marks on both outside and inside of his face. The shred gashes in his cheek failing to hold in the liquid, though washing the blackening edges which brought them to start to close.

As the pain subsides his mind returns from the hell of his feral self. He feels his breathing burning in his chest. Quick, heavy breaths of madness with a heartbeat of madness to match. He studies himself, straightening up, cracking his jaw, settling his heart. He only thinks about himself and where he is and about his wounds before Carrions death rattle comes from over his shoulder.

He slowly turns, remembering his attack. His approach now is calmer though no less direct and decided. Now far less feral but no less aggressive, he grabs her and flips her dead weighted limpness onto her back before landing back down over her, straddling her again. This time he drops no weight onto her but slowly lowers himself onto his knees instead. He grits his teeth and growled his voice in a low and dangerous tone as he lowered himself to her face,

“Look at me,” he waits. Watching her fight the death that rolls her eyes and bubbles blood from her mouth as she chokes.

“I told you….” He clasps his fingers around her jaw and cheeks, tilting her head so the buildup of blood steams from her mouth, “I will play your pain games, little girl.. because I have learned to love them too. But when it comes to who dies first? Well, I will take myself out willingly just to ensure I see your last breath.”

They stare at each other before Ghoul makes his move. Slowly, he lowers his mouth to her jaw, allowing her a moment to feel each breath he takes before pulling his tongue across her, lapping up her fresh blood in a single run to her chin. Her breathing escapes as a deepened gasp as her eyes widen and her fingers try to grasp what her arms don’t have the strength to reach.

“Mmm.”

A hiss is heard over the sound of everything else and after a second and final taste of his punishment, he raises upwards, exposing to the others the stimpack that juts from her neck. He’d watch the bleeding from her throat slow to nothing before the wound itself starts to heal.

Licking the last of her blood from his lips, he watches her knowing that she’s watching the hunger in his eyes grow. His mind says drink more of her, driving him until he forces himself away as he suddenly stands with a start. He takes a deep steadying breath before grabbing the back of her jacket and jumpsuit collar, and roughly begins dragging her limp body back to the group.

He’d just as roughly drop her next to the fire as he took his seat against a tree. Sickeningly casual, he started to rummage through his bag, pulling out a blood bag, a tube and a needle he had wrapped tightly in a towel. He glances at the surrounding group who watches him, and then at Carrion before he arranges the IV. In his passover of her, he notes her blackened eyes and ashen skin, her lips are a pale blue, eyes faded, listless and unfocused. Each breath was painful, forced, and with a violent, audible wheeze. She doesn’t move outside of the occasional twitch from various limbs, her mouth twitches like a fish Could she answer if he spoke to her? Perhaps he had done too much…

“Come here.”

He grabs her collar and yanks her body up between his legs, adjusting himself as well as her until her neck rolled her head, landing her forehead against the edge of his face and jaw. He cut open the notch in her sleeve and less than delicately slid the needle in her vein before placing the blood bag on his shoulder and opening the IV. He grabs her other hand, snapping her fingers into place before hitting the back with a half shot of a second stimpack he knew was also enough to heal her elbow too.. The rest goes into her knee.

“Don’t bend your arm.” He instructs as one of his arms wraps around her, fingers landing against the pulse in her neck.

He crosses one leg over one of her ankles and with his job done, he breathes out casually, doing his best to ignore the scent of blood that danced on his tongue and in his mind, singing sweetly for him to take more off her stained skin. He rationalized that drinking what he had was not the most “to keep sane” choice for his kind. But hell if she didn't taste like heaven. Grabbing from his bag, he finally hits his neck with its own stimpack just under the space in his cheek where the damage had been done.

The space falls into silence for a good few minutes.

“Are we going to talk about what just happened?” Lucy snaps as she looks around the group that seemed to just go back to before the event happened. Max says nothing and O’Connor keeps his head down in his can of food as the Ghoul clicks his tongue and shakes his head before raising his head off the tree where he had come to rest, hoping she’d just keep her mouth shut.

“There ain’t nothing to talk about, Vaulty.”

“You!!!” she tries to land on exactly which point she wanted to start off with.

“Oh, I know what I did.” He raised his brow and speaks matter of factly, “I sliced this little girl’s throat and sprayed her blood all over the Wasteland floor. I am not ignorant to that… while you seem ignorant to what she did to me.”

Lucy gave him a questioning look, and the Ghoul looked between the three of them before he reached down and grabbed her hand. He places his fingers in a way that splays her fingers, accentuating the claw-like nails for the three to see.

“Now, you see here.” He speaks as he switches his attention between her and the set of nails as if he’s displaying fine art, “A very long time ago, this little killer came up with her own invention. A Serum she calls, Ghoul Splice. And every single day since, the entirety of the ghoul population thanks every second they exist that she has not sold the how-to for it. A splice, that up until this very moment, I did not realize she had been painting onto her nails.”

“See here, young Lucy. You don’t understand what you just saw was a death to death fight. Once that splice entered my system, well… I didn’t last this long out here by making kind in the face of my own destruction.”

He drops her hand, his finding rest upon her lap. “Now, I have since stimpacked her and am ever so kindly allowing a nice pillar of blood back into her system to replace what I punished. I have every pulse under my finger and I feel every breath. All right? There's nothin to talk about, because nothing happened that won’t be fixed by mornin’”

“I know you were cruel to me.” Lucy‘s voice is almost breaking as she looks upon the monster in front of her and his very beaten victim who lay limp in his talonss. “but what you just did-“

She doesn’t get to finish the sentence that explains what she thought was wrong about the situation, as Carrion in that moment makes her stance known. Lucid and conscious just so, and with just enough strength in her to prove, she pulls her body sideways, going from her back onto her shoulder as she curls into Ghoul who raises his arms off her in waiting. Her good arm slithers up his body, her arm coming to a rest on his shoulder as her fingers clasp the back of his neck securely, her nails drumming but not damaging the skin. He smirks at Lucy as Carrion buries her face in the notch of his neck and her leg curls her into herself before he drops his arms back down around her.

“At some point, you will accept the world out here is a violent, violent place and what is “Cruel” is just a matter of situation.” he glowers at her, “Most of the time, you just need to let two motherfuckers beat the shit out of each other.”

His fingers move through Carrions hair as she wheezes every breath, but he holds a heavy stare on Lucy until his head turns in toward her. He rests his chin against the top of her head and holds this embrace for a moment before turning back just as Lucy opened her mouth to say something.

“And that’s the end of the conversation, by the way.”

…..

That morning Ghoul would wake with his breath caught in his throat, as before he sees anything, feels his body assulted.

Her lip drag along his throat, her teeth scraping teasingly, her hand under his coat, fingers breaking under the edge of his shirts, down where she drags her finger tips over the lip of his pants along the skin of his hip.

“Am I dreaming?” He growls under his breath, opening his neck with a tilt that he'll roll at the neck until hes breathing in the scent of hair.

“Does it matter?” She whispers into his collarbone.

“Heavily determines what I do next.”

She nips just under his jaw in a sharp pinch and his eyes open with a snap as his breath hisses in sharply.

They're all sleeping through this, assessing each, making sure as she continued her assault. Something about the situation just heated him up more. He plays into her silent movements. Caressing his hands down her back, one hand pulling down the zipper of her jump suit too much for discretion but easy for him to dip his hand in and run his fingers over the skin of her hip bone under her shirt. The other grabs her jaw and pulls her up into a heavy breathed kiss she'll accept but quickly pull away from.

He keeps and eye on the group, as well as their jacket positions that covered their movements as a blanket would. As her hand travels up his chest from under his shirt, he drinks in the physical touch he's gone so long without that it's been forgotten..

He was a Ghoul with a physical form too obvious to hide, so no human would touch him, especially like this. As for being a ghoul, even though he was a ghoul, he didn't fuck with ghouls which left him very much without anything but himself. He’s never not loved her, holding her to the fact she doesn’t see the ghoul in him in these moments. She remembered him for who he was. When she touches him, she remembers the skin that used to be smooth and human. But his new voice, oh, that she loves most of all.

“Ram…”

He knows what she's asking for as her fingers drag down his chest and stomach and then stall. Halfway between insulted and understanding he nodded into her head. His breath chokes in his throat and his heart skips into hus lungs as her hand slides over the really last physical aspect of his human life. His full body shifts, his hips pushing his twitching member into her palm. A deep growl comes forth from his chest, excitement for him, a noise which he knows is a spark for her.

“I more than can, I'm pleading to give it.”

Every pore of his body is on fire, each vein igniting under the touch of her sliding hands as she explores him. His skin raised ghost hairs and shivered his skin. Every breath he pushes out is from his groin, heavy and driven. He looks over again at the sleeping three, the blood he's lost in his brain convincing him he could get through whatever he was about to do right in front of them unnoticed, while his echoing logic explained how they should move elsewhere.

All he ended up doing though was laying there immobil under her touch.

She's remained between his legs, and he grinds against her again as his hands grow more aggressive. Grabbing; attempting to convince her out or the jump suit and onto him.

“Not here.” She whispers as her head passes his mouth as she continues against his neck.

He opens his eyes and they’re less than inches apart.

“Anywhere.”

He goes to push her off of him at the moment O’Conner starts coughing himself awake. Ghoul pulls her down and holds her against him, both attempting to to regain composure, both their chests heaving their personal heat, the ghoul is far stiffer and hes holding a glare on O’Conner as the scribe groaned and sat up.

The scribe clears his throat and looks around, noting the glare of the ghoul passively as he's stretching, various limbs cracking. “At least at the camp, we get cots. Ya know?” he addresses the ghoul who twists his lip angrily, agreeing to make the scribe happy.

“Right. Imma take a piss and then we can get on it. We break into the mountain pass today.”

O’Conner smacks Max's shoulder as he passes by, waking him up with a start. Ghoul watched his chance vanish with the boy as he hated the feeling of Carrion chuckling against his body.

[georgiapeach30513]

Hi Jen/Peach!

Some food for thought:

So I’ve watched Oppenheimer, Barbie, and pain hustlers (have not yet seen may December but am hoping to soon).

Oppenheimer was my least favorite and contained IMO the most uninspired performances (cillian is usually great but here I was bored by him. Emily was a nonentity). Robert - no. Awards worthy? I don’t think so. I really don’t. Josh Hartnett was unexpectedly very well used and honestly great in this film. I think it’s obvious who is campaigning for awards and who isn’t. (Teehee)

Pain hustlers was actually the most enjoyable and easy to watch for me. Unfortunately parts of the script and direction just seemed way too safe (especially that party scene - how did the filmmakers even not realize that) but the performances were very strong. The cast was solid and if the script had been tighter could have really been a special film. It wasn’t received well by critics clearly because there were multiple parts of the film I was like…that’s it? This is rated R for goodness sake do it like you mean it!!! What does this change? Where does this even go? But I don’t think it’s because of the cast at all. Emily and Chris were great. Emily was good enough but not awards worthy compared to some of her other roles. But she did more here than Oppenheimer. Again - who is campaigning for awards….

Barbie - enjoyable to an extent. Margot really is Barbie in real life and I know she wants that Oscar. I don’t know if she’ll get it for this but there were several scenes she portrayed a Barbie doll to a tee. Ryan was fun at parts and then just got annoying. I really enjoyed one part where he sings (no spoilers) but the rest then just got excessive. The script was definitely IMO the strongest part of the film (and definitely the best written against the others I watched) because it was very creative and inventive. It was well thought out and took the time to build a world, take it apart, and then put it back together. But at the same time it really borders on the line of being cheesy. I don’t think it deserves best picture at all. I also am not sold on Ryan’s performance. I think a lot of people were giving him his stars because he was singing and dancing at parts and being different out of pocket from his usual stoic roles but so do most actors who get into roles where they need to do this. He didn’t go out of the box for me because I’ve seen him do Mickey Mouse club stuff so he could always sing dance and act. His role also wasn’t so intense that he was carrying the film at all for me. IMO, good enough to warrant praise but not enough to win an Oscar. (Again, this is just IMO and I’ve seen a fair amount of Ryan films. Man can act - no question. He is also funny and has very dry wit. But Ken is not an Oscar worthy performance I’m sorry.)

And I’ll be completely unadulteratedly honest here: Chris E’s acting in pain hustlers showcased a version of him that I feel competes with some of the male supporting actors this year. It really does. He was not given enough to do because of the lackluster script but the acting was THERE. That scene in the garage (people who watched will know) was more poignant than anything Robert did in Oppenheimer. The rapping scene - it lasted for like 20 seconds but if he were to do more to perform maybe the conversation would be different. I think he’s always being used not enough and playing/choosing roles where they cut off before he can really really let go and that’s what’s in my opinion, hurting him/making him lose out. If he ever manages to break out of this lackluster cycle he could go far. But that’s only if and when he chooses to or gets an opportunity that allows him to.

I’m sorry - I know people will come on here and disagree and then probably try and rant at my post if you do post it, but some of you need to watch all three films and past movies of all the scores being discussed here if you really want to go head to head to debate.

I may be the only person coming on here to say I think Chris is severely underrated and actually mean it from a technical standpoint but I really believe it’s true. I don’t care if haters will poopoo my statement but there’s simply no reason he couldn’t be considered for more serious roles with award potential if he wanted it. Perhaps he doesn’t or maybe he’s been pigeonholed and now has had a steak of not so great films that it’s going to hurt his future chances at being taken more seriously. But I do not believe for one second the talent isn’t there - especially compared to some performances I’ve watched lately.

Oh, I love hearing from other people. I have not seen Oppenheimer yet, so I can't speak on that movie.

I do agree with many of your points, but it is nice to hear from others, because I know I can be a bit biased when it comes to him. You know, us silly fans always make excuses for him 🤭

All in all it's sad to see him get critiqued so harshly for PH. And the fact that it will be forgotten. It was a solid performance from him.

[glapplebloom]

The last new series of the year...

So how did I first hear of Zom 100? Funny enough, I didn’t even know it was an anime. I first heard of this via Nerd Explains’ “How to Beat the EXISTENTIAL MONOTONY in ZOM100: BUCKET LIST OF THE DEAD”. It was such a fun concept that the Zombie Apocalypse is the better option. It wouldn’t be until I saw the Second Opening on Twitter. Loved the song and thought I am definitely going to check it out.

And thus me checking it out. The First 15 minutes sold you on why this was the better option. It begins with an opening of a traditional Zombie Movie, where one survivor is trying to survive against a horde of zombies. We then see Akira Tendo look at this movie and honestly look a lot worse in comparison. We then flashback to how this happened. Three years ago, he finally got the job he wanted and seemed to be really happy...

Then on the first day, he had to pull an all-nighter. For two days straight. Basically, this is Crunch Time but for a lot longer. His only solace was this nice looking lady (Saori) who treated him nicely, but was doing the Supervisor. Basically by year 3, he looked more like a zombie than the actual zombies. But one day, realizing he didn’t pay for his biking space, he went to the Landlord to try to pay for it now. Only to find the first of many zombies chasing him.

He was so bad, his first thought was he was going to miss work. But when he saw an airplane flying by, and all the destruction that was happening, he realized that he no longer has to go to work. So the monochrome world he was living in changed to one vibrant and colorful. And in his happiness he pretty much crushed 5 zombies and ran a marathon without a care in the world despite looking like a horde battle from Left 4 Dead 2.

So he decides to take this opportunity to check on Saroi and confess his love. The Supervisor was already a zombie and he decides to symbolically quit his job while pushing him out of a window. And he was like twice Akira’s size, so that guy got some muscles underneath that skinny body. Sadly for him, Saori was a zombie. He did confess his love, but when she lunged at him he zoomed out. He may be happy but he isn’t delusional. So the first episode ends with him getting a notebook and writing down the things he wants to do.

Overall, very fun. It really sells you on how much you want to root for Akira, from wanting to quit his job to surviving this Armageddon. Can’t wait to see the other characters from the opening. Even though they’re currently on a big hiatus, I totally recommend checking out this anime and also Manga series. I hope I get to see the rest of the series before the year’s end.

[horrorshack]

[ ZORZO NATHARUETAI, DEMI WOMAN, SHE/THEY ] + WAS THAT AROMA CHAVALIT I SAW BY THE LIGHTHOUSE TODAY? I HEARD THAT THE TWENTY-EIGHT YEAR OLD WHO HAS BEEN IN NIGHTREST FOR ALL THEIR LIFE AND WORKS AS A MANAGER AT NIGHTREST LIQUOR AND PHONE SEX OPERATOR HAS A REPUTATION OF BEING INSOUCIANT, BUT ALSO MELANCHOLIC. THEY RESIDE IN LOW POINT AND PEOPLE IN TOWN USUALLY ASSOCIATE THEM WITH EXISTENCE DESIGNED FOR THE SHOCK FACTOR, THE GROTESQUE MELODRAMA OF IT ALL, AND PORTRAITS OF A ROTTEN GIRL.

DOSSIER /

FULL NAME: aroma chavalit, goes by aroma or ari. DATE OF BIRTH: 13th of september, 1994. ZODIAC SIGN: virgo. GENDER IDENTITY: demi woman. PRONOUNS: she/they. SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual. RESIDENTIAL AREA: low point. OCCUPATION: manager at nightrest liquor and phone sex operator.

BACKSTORY /

CONTENT WARNING: MENTION OF DEATH / OVERDOSE, DEPRESSION, DRUGS, ADDICTION.

aroma's childhood wasn't anything out of the ordinary—she and her older brother by 3 years, archi, were well taken care of and loved albeit under strict regime, living on the outskirts of fog gate.

to many people's surprise, she was actually a very kind, compassionate, and funny child, thriving on attention and praise. since their parents weren't home a lot, as they both worked two jobs, she spent most of her time outside or hanging out with their brother.

because of that, the siblings grew to be super close despite their age difference and it was obvious to everyone that they were attached at the hip. when aroma was 14, she had her first drink and cigarette with him, and they'd often split a cig out the attic window 10 minutes before parents coming home.

they looked up to archi a lot, even though they could admit that he wasn't the best role model—she'd lost count of how many times he'd fought with mum and dad, the number increasing at a worriedly rapid pace the older he got.

aroma was a dedicated student in high school, craving acknowledgment and praise from her parents, but it'd only urged them to be harder on her; however, it'd seemed to help with distracting them from her brother, which was a sacrifice she was willing to make.

when archi eventually moved away for college, she started noticing that they were no longer talking as much; those sparse and soulless replies hurt even more when neither of her parents or archi would explain the reason.

the last two years of school for aroma were miserable. they'd stopped trying and would often sneak out of school to hang out with the "outcasts" by the fence and have a smoke or go places where they knew they'd be sold alcohol even as teenagers.

one night, she got into a massive fight with their parents after they found out aroma almost failed three of their classes. in a burst of anger, their mother accused them of hanging out with "that shit influence of a brother" despite cutting off all contact from him and that was when she found out that archi was an addict.

their pleas to not see archi anymore fell deaf on her ears. whenever parents would be out of town for a few days, she'd drive down to archi's college and spend weekends with him and his friends, drinking and doing drugs, crashing parties and disrupting the peace.

DEATH / OVERDOSE TW unfortunately, aroma's brother did not make it to her high school graduation. right after getting their diploma, they yelled at their parents for not having at least an ounce of compassion to let him see his little sister at her own graduation and they immediately burst into tears and told her that he'd overdosed that morning, just a few hours before the ceremony.

when they buried archi, they buried aroma too. she wasn't mentally well enough to cope in healthy ways, so they turned to alcohol and drugs, the same things that took archi away from her. she was a master at hiding it from her parents though—they thought she was still just struck with grief, depressed and antisocial.

at 20, she moved to low point on a whim after asked to work at a phone sex line with her friend (they fell apart not even half a year in, but hey, at least she got to keep the flat).

aroma started talking to their parents less, much to their dismay. she felt guilty, of course, knowing that she wasn't the only one affected by the death of archi, but they couldn't face them like this. not like that.

eventually, things got better. not by much, but it was something. getting the manager's position at the liquor store helped, as it kept them busy and focused, and she was no longer putting herself in dangerous situations to feed into her unhealthy habits.

their parents still call every now and then to wish them a happy birthday or christmas. "we lit up a candle and bought your favourite tree," is what they say. "come home," is what she hears and the line goes dead.

CHARACTER STUDY /

makes a lot of self-deprecating jokes and can sometimes be a bit of a bummer to be around unless you catch them on their better days.

every year on her birthday she asks for the same thing: fun, quirky landline phones. so far, she has eight of them to make their sex work less insufferable.

writes ironic (or is it?) erotica and deranged fanfiction of the most random ships. they have the same energy as the people on tiktok writing fanfics of their homophobic classmates.

she often hyperfixates on drawing as a way to cleanse themselves of negative energy. all of her work is either gruesome or haunting or both and while they've received offers to have her work showcased in a gallery, they were all rejected because she hates being perceived by the public.

most of their life is online, but all of it is carefully curated and weaved with nothing but lies.

big on partying and doing anything that'll take her mind off reality, but their social battery tends to run on 25-55% battery. loves an irish goodbye for that reason.

can only name like 5 movies she likes because while they do consume a lot of them, she tends to forget the plot as soon as the screen is off.

dreams of decaying.

sometimes she'll leave her most horrifying drawings in their neighbours' mailboxes or tape them around town.

sleepwalks a lot. like, a concerning amount. she might as well have walked past a murder in action. once they woke up on the beach dunes in the middle of winter.

would rather be dead than get married "out of love". if it's not for any kind of benefits, they don't want it.

has at least 4 sugar daddy apps downloaded on her phone. they're all saved in a folder called "for a rainy day" except it rains a lot in their life.

walks everywhere. the destination is 2 hours away on feet? no problem, they'll just stop by a corner shop to get a pack of cigs and just walk. no music necessary.

they love people-watching and coming up with bizarre stories for the passerbys.

loves money, but doesn't have any

hates a bunch of people, but they're also delusional and loves the enemies to lovers trope, so it often works out in her favour.

EXTRAS /

PINTEREST + CHARACTER STUDY.

[whiskeyandacigarette]

Baby clothes. Unused.

It is not a good night. Thoughts are circling around my head like the ceiling fan overhead. I decided to finally clean out my closet of some of the things from the breakup. There was a box of baby stuff she did not want when we split and moved because she did not want to be reminded of what could have been. Some of those things were sold early on so she could have a bit of cash. The rest I had pushed into corners of a closet and behind my boxing gear.

Despite me being sad and teary-eyed tonight, this story is not really about me. She deserved better. Not only from me, but just from life in general. She would have made a good mom. She is caring and smart and funny. She can be a bit of an over thinker and overcautious to the point of extreme annoyance, but she generally means well. She deserved to be raising a baby right now, with me or without me.

She was in fertility treatments when we began dating. I did not mind and did not run screaming for the hills. The first two donor embryos did not take, but there did not seem to be any real concern for worry from her doctor. As we grew closer because of time and the pandemic, we decided to try on our own to have a kid. I got my genetic testing done - she had already done so for the IVF/IUF process - and out of 284 things they test for, I carried one. She carried four. One of those four was the one I carried. It was a kidney issue which resulted in a dead baby or a dead kid at a young age. But, we were told it was a 25% chance so we went ahead and had the embryos made.

Three of the four embryos ended up carrying it, and the fourth did not develop enough to be viable. So much for 25%.

Someone recently asked me when the last time it was that I cried. I did not initially want to tell her because we were exploring our own potential romance. (Spoiler: she ain’t here) Well, the last time I cried was when we were moving out and I opened the box of baby stuff for the first time. Seeing what she had planned, and what was never going to happen. I’ll get into it more shortly. Prior to that, I cried on her birthday.

I put a big surprise picnic together with her friends and a couple of mine. A couple of her friends had kids and I played with them in the park because kids find me to be a pretty awesome adult. That night before bed when we were recapping the day, she said it was so nice to finally have found someone who wanted kids…and that she was sorry she would never be able to give me one of my own. Absolutely devastating, but as I write this I just recalled another time I was brought to tears.

We were driving back home after a weekend camping trip. This was towards the end of it all because we had Foxy the trailer with us. As we drove past the park down the 5, we were talking about all of the fertility stuff and how her life seemed to be getting worse by the week. She said, “If babies choose their parents, who would want to choose this as a life and me as a mom?”

Having the choice to have children taken away from you, as a woman, is something I cannot begin to comprehend. I will not try. It is awful, unfair, grotesque, and a thousand other adjectives. Really, it is just fucked up. But, going through all that with her, even if I was not nearly as supportive as I could have been through many of the more rough patches, had an impact on me. I wanted her to be a mom, whether it was with me or not. I recapped some of this story to someone recently and I mentioned how she kept saying the universe was telling her to get fucked. I said, “The universe is indifferent!” But my friend said, “Yeah, but god isn’t.” I don’t really do the religion thing but it fucked me up and has stuck with me for days.

All of this is to say, tonight when I was going through boxes, I got wrecked. There were some onesies and swaddle cloths. There was a custom made stuffed elephant. A music box which played Toyland as a little elephant named Humphrey watched a train of toys circle around him. A wooden nameplate, with no name. The nameplate is what broke me. Just a blank piece of wood, symbolizing little more than a failed dream. There were so many plans and so many laughs to be had. None of it will happen.

I am not entirely sure what to do with some of this. It was not mine, I did not buy it. She had it when we began dating. But it feels wrong to get rid of it. Maybe it is a reminder of my failures as a partner. Maybe someone else can get use of it when they have a baby of their own. Not really sure, but I packed it all back up and put it into the corners of the closet. Eventually I will have to make a decision on it. But not tonight. Tonight I will be sad about the ‘what could have been’ of it all and move on from there.

[cocoabubbelle]

Watching “Scooby Doo, Where Are You?” (1969-1970 CBS) + Thoughts

Episode 19: Mystery Mask Mix Up

Is it me or is the typeface for the episode card different?

Why are the subtitles not working?

When Daphne expressed interest in buying the mask that totally has nothing to do with the creepy guys earlier wanting to search for a particular mask: “Looks like Daphne wants to scare off a couple of new boyfriends 😜” You wish that were true Shaggy 😚 sorry its the Shaphne in me.

Store owner I know these goons caught you by surprise and are intimidating, but why would you say to whom you sold the mask to?

Daphne’s pink tights apparently glow in the dark.

It would appear that not only is Velma one of the strongest members of the Scooby Gang, she’s also the most physically imposing by the way everyone hides behind her. No wonder she joins Shaggy in the MultiVersus Game.

“Quick Scooby! Make like a Watchdog!” Well, he’s trying, but not everyone is afraid of a large, 120lb Great Dane.

Apparently Scooby speaks Mandarin or Cantonese,…or whatever the writers though that dialogue sounded remotely like any of the Chinese languages (I cannot speak any of the languages, but I heard “gomen” thrown in by Scooby, which sounds more like the short version of the Japanese “gomennasai”)

Scooby uses Shirt Presser. It’s super effective!

Mr. Fong, the Art Dealer, warns that as long as Daphne keeps the mask, she will be in great danger. A genuine precaution, or a warning by one of the three culprits (the supposed ghost of this mask + his two henchmen)?

Fraphne? (Daphne holding on Fred’s arm in worry; then again, both Freddy and Velma are holding her defensively, so it might just be platonic protectiveness)

Daphne too stubborn to hold onto the mask she bought rather than hand it over to the police or Mr. Fong for safekeeping (tbf it probably costed her a pretty penny.)

“I didn’t know that zombies could ride cars.”

Second time we hear an upbeat song playing for a chase scene. Also, Fred’s a reckless driver.

The girls are holding onto Shaggy for dear life during this car chase. Smart, as he’s probably powerful enough to deflect potential damage from car crashes. (Also mini Shelma since she’s the closest to him)

Mystery Van is able to smash through a hotel entrance, go through lobby, and up the stairs. I call shenanigans on both this logic and that none of the Scooby Gang will be charge for disturbing the peace. (Mini Fraphne again: she’s holding onto him for dear life while she and the rest of the gang almost fall out their seats from Fred’s crazy driving.)

Hilariously, the Zombie henchmen weren’t dumb enough to follow the Mystery Van into the hotel, so patiently waited for it to come out to resume chase.

How did you guys get on top of a building?! Freddy don’t cover your eyes with the rest of the gang YOU’RE THE ONE THAT GOT THEM INTO THIS SITUATION OWN UP TO IT!!!

Parkour: Mystery Van Style.

Oh, so driving into hotels is too extreme for Zombies, but driving onto and off of buildings isn’t?!

Mystery Van drops down and crashes through a glass ceiling without any scratches. SHENANIGANS, I tell ya!!

I forgot to mention this in the previous episode, but the Mystery Van’s interiors changes more than my mental health status on a day to day basis.

Have they not learned last episode’s lesson of locking the doors to the back of their car?? You left your dog behind again!! (See episode

Dear 70s: why are cheesy love songs the go-to-music for chase scenes????

Scooby uses bike; it was ineffective.

Because a big car slipping on a banana peel makes sense.

My sis: why does the weird cartoon logic bug you so much?? ; Me: I DON’T KNOW IT’S NEVER BUGGED ME BEFORE BUT IT DOES NOW!!!

Animation Goof: Scooby’s arm momentarily turns green as he tries to unearth Shaggy from the pile of spilled fishes from a boat Fred crashes into. (Funny Frelma moment as they exchange quips.)

Of course the Zombies immediately capture, bind, and gag Daphne and have her in their car offscreen without anyone noticing.

Secret message that can be read via reflections.

Of course the temple doors they sneak through aren’t locked.

Good news: Fred and Velma immediately find Daphne after splitting up with Shaggy and Scooby. Bad news: t’was a trap.

“What you can’t see can’t hurt ya!” *proceeds to crash as soon as he enters the mysterious room with his eyes covered.*

“I dare you to cross this line! >:D” Bad guy: *crosses line like a boss.* “D:”

Question: is it possible to ride Great Danes like horses in real life?

Shaggy and Scooby disguise themselves and speak like racist caricatures. (Did Scooby technically dress like a racist caricature of a Native American last episode?)

Sitting on a lit fuse of dynamite stops the flame but burns your seat.

Accidental rescue! The Scooby Gang’s reunited.

Pigeon Coop. Daphne has a princess moment and lovingly cuddles a pigeon/dove(?) while Velma reads a suspicious message it had tied to its leg.

First time we hear that Shaggy has a model train set, and Fred wants to use it for a trap. Break your own toys, Freddy!

“I sure hope this crazy contraption works.” “Sure it will!” Me: *checks the score between Fred’s successful vs unsuccessful traps* 😬

Poor Scooby isn’t able to finish setting up his part of the traps in time, so winds up caught in it along with the criminals.

Useful policemen/sheriffs/detectives yet again! And yes, Mr. Fong was one of the bad guys.

Day 19 of no “And I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for you meddling kids!” For being one of the most well known catchphrases of this entire franchise, it surprisingly took a while for it to actually be a thing. *sees there are only 6 episodes left this season.* 😐

[heartshapedcreaturefromcriptoon]

So I took these screenshots from a video about people gettin' BIG MAD over the Hot Topic Announcement TM instead of trying something useful and boycotting Harry Potter HT Merch cuz uh, it's so funny to me?

Um, it lewk liek............ Moar Scene Stuff TM iz on da wai u poor wittle meowmeow? :o

Are the coon tails, black on blonde streaks, Ghoulia Yelps Style Glasses, heavy black eyeliner, black lipstick, choker, black and red cardigan with hamburger pattern, and the way this bitch types on patreon and twitter not enough for you or what? Do you want some Cotton Candy? Do you need more Giant Sparkle Wolves with Rainbows in their vaginas rn?

Because I think we have Plenty of those...

And oh, the one from the (fellow) MCR Fan here is SENDING ME... (Also teehee why weren't u "done" when they started selling Harry Potteh merch, lurv? But also like????)

Like? HELLO?????

Is someone just super angy that our boy used to look like a Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge Era Gerard Way Ripoff just as Charlie used to look like a GDT Hellboy Ripoff before Viv actually got good at her job or what?

And here's the sugar on the cream though... (and oh, how fitting, My Lord ...):

LIKE, RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW BABY!!!! :D

Now, can all the whiny weeby poser loser babies hot topic vulture or otherwise please stop making simply supporting vivziepop feel like some small counter cultural act of punk freak rebellion against all the hatred and bullying? 💀🩸 Because I know it technically shouldn't feel this way, but its really starting to, especially since all this time we've had to make all our own fan merch if we wanted anything good besides a T-Shirt and now we have names like Kesha Rose and John Waters starring in Viv's indie project that you can watch entirely for free on YouTube! 💖🌈🦩🪡

Again, if you hate Hot Topic so much now that Hazbin merch will be sold there, where was that threat to "never shop there again" when Harry Potter merch started being sold there? And again, instead complaining like a Caroline Carr, why don't you do something actually useful and go burn down every Hot Topic you can find selling Harry Potter and Fnaf Merch before any officially licensed A24 Hazbin Hotel Merch has to be forced to share the same space as those franchises? Because that's the only thing that's Truly Cringe about this announcement! 💀🩸🔪

Oh, and speaking of announcements, happy four seasons my little demons I don't wanna spread misinfo but the reason why the playbill is taking so long is probably because they're working out the details of Lady Gaga's contract since Lilith is like the the second character introduced and she probably needs her voice credit in advance! 😈🎶🗝️💒🥂🖤 X.O