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shalotttower · 10 days

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A Natural Benefit

Title: A Natural Benefit

Fandom: Death Note

Characters: L Lawliet x Reader (female)

Summary: L wants to try something new, you want to be left alone. So an offer is on the table, it's a mutually beneficial arrangement after all.

Word count: 2100+

Notes: yandere!L, kidnapped Reader, dub-con kissing, manipulation, captivity, L and Reader were together at Wammy's House

"Would you indulge me?"

Your eyes dart up from the page to his face. L looks at you like he always does ─ an intent yet oddly distant stare that used to make goosebumps appear on your arms. Nowadays you're somewhat re-accustomed to his mannerisms. He doesn't blink much, tends to stand behind your back whenever possible, likes to play with his food and enjoys invading your personal space far too much to be deemed socially acceptable.

His habits are strange but harmless.

"No," you say, just to be contrary.

L is fond of making things sound simple, and then — snap! — the trap is shut, and you find yourself doing a completely different activity than initially expected.

"I want to kiss you."

"N-" You blink and lower your book down, not bothering to mark it. "What?"

"Kissing is an act of physical intimacy between individuals," he says like it's an obvious fact and you're merely slow on the uptake. L's expression doesn't change, neutral despite this being anything but a normal conversation starter even by your standards ─ admittedly low.

"Thank you for enlightening me about the definition," you lean back against the cushions, "still no."

"Why not?" He asks after a momentary pause.

"Because I don't want to."

A simple answer to a weird request. You try to resume reading, but there're other things currently occupying your brain ─ namely the attempts to understand what prompted such inquiry.

L never asked for physical contact before; platonic or otherwise. Sure he tried to entice you into spending time with him through bargain and manipulation, and you pretended to be oblivious enough to earn an Oscar for your acting skills. However, there never was any talk of kissing involved. Any kind of touching, actually.

He hums. "Would you like me to explain my reasons?"

Sometimes you think that the sole cause of L's existence is just so he could annoy people for kicks. His questions are always peculiar, and you've learned that every single one of them is designed to lead towards some specific conclusion, preferably the one he wants. You have a feeling that if you say 'yes', L will proceed to list a hundred points about why kissing is good. And then another hundred why kissing him specifically is beneficial.

"No."

He looks at you. You look at him and raise the book higher.

"Indulging me would benefit both of us," L says, undeterred. "You're very curious by nature and I find it quite fascinating that you're able to deny your curiosity in this particular case."

Has a more obvious bait ever existed anywhere in human history? Probably not, and you'll bet your entire life savings on it too.

"I'm not curious," you lie, "now leave me alone. I want to read."

He leans forward. "You haven't focused on the book since I asked my question."

Smartass. You purse your lips and pretend that the characters are suddenly so interesting, that it's hard to look away from the intricacies of the plot unfolding inside this fictional world. At least things there make sense; no need to figure out the hidden meanings behind other people's words, because they are mostly transparent when there's a whole paragraph dedicated to the protagonist's feelings.

He reminds you of those spider-like creatures from documentaries ─ their actions seem random at first glance, yet upon further scrutiny prove to be anything but. Instead, they're meticulously crafted and executed to obtain maximum results.

L studies you for a little while longer, and eventually pads towards the kitchenette. The kettle whistles soon after as he makes himself tea; mint flavored, judging by the aroma wafting through the air.

______________________________________________________

You should have known that he won't give up ─ L is just as persistent as you are stubborn. If anything, you've set a challenge before him, and he tends to fixate on those until they are solved: a fact well-known and accepted among those who ever had a (dis)pleasure of interacting with him.

He doesn't outright ask you again, not the next day or the one after that. No. Accidentally, the only type of movies you're able to watch now are rom-coms or dramas with lots of kissing scenes sprinkled here and there between the banter bordering on cringe; sweet confessions spoken over candlelit dinners; passionate declarations whispered during sunsets... Clichés, amore, and kisses galore.

"I'm not sure this is the best movie for the evening," you say, as the screen flickers with images of two leads gazing into each other's eyes like they found the answers to every single question asked.

"The reviews are quite positive," L replies, munching on caramel popcorn.

"Reviews can be faked. And the trailer was misleading. I thought it was going to be an action movie."

"It is an action movie. The genres are listed right there," he points at the screen, and the words 'romance and action' stare back at you.

You frown and settle deeper into the couch cushions. It's uncomfortable ─ watching romantic scenes with L in the same room. His presence doesn't feel oppressive or demanding, yet you can't shake off the squirmy, twisty feeling. The kind when you enter an elevator with someone else and get slightly agitated for no reason. And so you try to slow down your breathing, but it only makes things worse. Your heart beats faster, palms start sweating and the hypothetical elevator stranger inevitably thinks that you're weird.

L isn't an elevator stranger. He's the owner of the elevator, and the entire building, and the city.

"He's going to die in the next ten minutes," you mutter.

"No, he won't."

"Yes, he will."

L hums. "Want a bet?"

Your eyes narrow.

"If he survives past the fifteen minute mark," L says slowly, "you indulge me."

"And if he doesn't?"

"I leave you alone for two days."

There's no hesitation on his side. None whatsoever, which proves suspicious immediately ─ L never offers something unless certain about the outcome beforehand, whether by logical deduction or calculated gamble. Probability factors run inside his brain instead of blood cells and grey matter, calculating risk vs return ratio quicker than any computer ever could.

You glance at the screen. It's a simple plot. There were a twist or two earlier, sure, but overall nothing extraordinary that would require hours upon hours of critical thinking to unravel.

A man, a woman. A handsome villain who wants them dead, for various reasons. They run and fight, shoot guns, dodge punches, and kiss between those because apparently there's time for romance even when a life is on the line.

It's a very simple plot; and two days are a lot to pretend that L doesn't exist. That you got rich enough to buy this kind of apartment.

"The speakers?"

"Switched off."

"The cameras?"

"Those will stay."

Of course, they will. You wouldn't expect anything less ─ privacy issues are non-existent here in more ways than one.

L isn't always a presence. Sometimes he leaves and you're alone with nothing but books and TV to pass time, but two days sound wonderful regardless. There's something in empty spaces that's enticing, even if they're temporary. L, for all his peculiarities, isn't too bad of a company. He's quiet, and often busy with his own matters. But he also has this way of looking at you that is unnerving. Like you're interesting. Or important. Or simply fascinating.

Sometimes he wants to talk, he wants to listen, he wants to ask questions and give answers until everything blurs into an amalgamation of words. It's exhausting.

Two days sound good. His hand is dry and slender. You grasp it and shake it once.

"I'll start the timer now," L says after your hands separate.

______________________________________________________

Twelve minutes.

Three more and he's dead.

You wish that he'd just kick the bucket already, so you could spend the next forty eight hours in pure, undiluted bliss.

_______________________________________________________

The male lead dies after seventeen minutes.

When the credits roll over, the apartment is silent except for the soft buzzing of electronics. You look at the screen, stubbornly, because you don't want to look at him, the owner of the elevator, and the building, and the city.

"It was close," he comments, as if trying to comfort you, which makes it even more of a sore spot.

That’s what L thrives on ─ technicalities, loopholes, small and seemingly insignificant details which are easily overlooked, yet make a great difference. You're not sure if you're annoyed, or disappointed. And what’s more important ─ at whom.

You have known for years that L tends to get his way eventually whenever there's something specific caught up in that head of his; a fixation which refuses to leave until satisfied, and sometimes even after. Snap. You can get up and head out of the living room, you know you can. Will you though is another question entirely.

L isn't a typical captor ─ he doesn't demand or force you into things. He simply presents a possibility and waits. Not aggressive or domineering, not sadistic. But oh he is a PhD of holding a grudge. Leaving now probably means waking up tomorrow and finding that every single disk has vanished without a trace, along with the bookshelves being switched for some obscure scientific texts on chemistry, physics and other things that require an advanced degree to fully understand.

Because someone decided that you don’t deserve entertainment anymore. Because someone is petty enough to deprive you of basic mental stimuli, and is stubborn enough to hold onto that decision even when reasoned with. Unsuccessfully.

It's a talent really, this particular brand of making your life miserable in many small ways, so they accumulate into something greater over time until you feel like the walls are closing in slowly but surely.

You can't back out, even though no one openly stops you from doing so. And L knows that. And he knows that you know. His lips twitch and curl upward before flattening again into neutral territory.

There's a theory that if you pull a band-aid fast enough, it won't hurt as much. The credibility behind it is questionable.

You exhale and meet L's gaze ─ his posture hasn't changed from the beginning to the end of the film, knees tucked to his chest, eyes two dark pools that stare without blinking. His fingers drum a steady rhythm, and that's probably the only sign that gives it away.

Anticipation.

"Fine," you say finally.

His mouth opens before closing back again. L doesn't move a bit.

He wants you to do it, you realize. Wants you to initiate instead of just allowing it. What an ass.

You squish his cheeks between your palms until his lips pucker outwards. L makes a soft noise of surprise but doesn't try to fight back.

Black lashes cast a shadow across his skin. There's no perfume or cologne, no distinct smell ─ he uses plain soap and shampoo which don't have a discernible aroma.

"I believe I was promised an indulgence," L says, voice muffled a bit by your hands on his face.

He looks like a fish this way. A silly, ridiculous image that would make you snort if not for the situation at hand.

Band-aids and ripping them off.

You sigh, lean forward, and press your mouth to his.

He tastes like caramel popcorn.

Mint tea.

Indulgence.

The angle is awkward, and L doesn't move an inch to accommodate the position. He stays still like a block of solid rock, not a single muscle twitches, and doesn't even attempt to reciprocate. You have half a mind to think that maybe he's mocking you, but then his fingers lightly curl on the fabric of his jeans. L's eyelids flutter half-closed when your noses bump, then open again right after. Another oddity added to the pile.

It lasts no longer than ten seconds before you pull away. L blinks. Touches his lower lip with the tip of a finger and rubs it like searching for traces left by the contact.

"You were promised an indulgence," you remind him, trying to sound calm, collected, but your ears and neck feel hot, "not a make-out session."

Technicalities and loopholes.

L has that look you can't quite pinpoint yet know far too well. You've seen it many times before. When he thinks about something but keeps it to himself for now.

"You look more lively," he remarks eventually. "Healthy complexion suits you."

You don't need to hear what he says next, because the words already ring through your head.

"I told you it would benefit us both."

#shalott fanfiction #shalott imagine #yandere #death note #yandere l lawliet #yandere l lawliet x reader #yandere l x reader

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m1ssunderstanding · 2 months

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Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 1.2

George: We don't have to keep [an image] up, we just remain ourselves. Don't we, Ringo? Ringo: well, we do, I mean, it's the other two we're worried about. It's a joke about John and Paul being bigheads, but a crazy person – definitely not me – could also see it other ways if they wanted to.

Paul talking about their mutual friend when asked how they met and John telling him not to complicate it. They're so married it's ridiculous.

Always looking at each other with every single joke.

He looks like he's in a lovely enclosure at the petting zoo. I've always been so confused by this footage. Can anyone tell me what the hell is going on?

I LOVE that we now know Paul was cast as Thisbe and John as Pyramus and then they switched. I'm actually dying to know how and why that happened though. My first instinct was “of course. Paul was scared he'd look too convincing as a woman, so John did it for him.” But no. Paul dressed as a woman at the cavern, wore ladies lingerie in Hamburg, and wanted to do a full drag show on TV in the early seventies. So why not Thisbe?

Why do you as a man randomly bring up the color of your friend's dick while staring lovingly into his eyes?

It must be noted. They had a wonderful time playing star-crossed lovers.

The bickering pianos are so cute! And then John (prompting Paul): and John and I . . . Paul: oh I hate this. John: will probably carry on . . . Paul: we'll carry on songwriting . . . You just know Paul didn't hear the end of that one interview answer for a long long time. And it's because John just had to hear it over and over again.

Love the editing so that Paul smacks John's ass right as the symbols crash. 10/10 A+

This iconic moment. Poor George tally number 4.

Interviewer brings up marriage and John takes a shot like he wants to forget that the whole concept even exists. Literally poor Cynthia. And not even in an “lol her husband's gay” type of way. Just in a genuine “the way their relationship fell apart actually breaks my heart because she really did love him and in his way he loved her too but they were just so thoroughly incompatible” type of way.

Paul: makes a stupid dad joke. John: giggles gleefully and kicks his feet

I have never seen someone so disappointed that they didn't need to lend their friend a pen. Paul had his hand in his pocket before John even asked the interviewer for a pen and when the interviewer gives him one, Paul literally hangs his head like he's just been cut from the school play. I just. The obsession is frankly cartoonish. But also, he just needs to be needed, you know? How many songs does he have which conflate being needed and being loved?

The juxtaposition of Paul and John elaborately messing with the interviewer (“yes John Lenard, that's me” and “actually it's done by mirrors.”) vs George's “I don't know” and “yeah.” it's actually kind of mean editing but whatever. It is ULM not UH. Someone should make that though.

Again, John. Calm down. He's not that funny. Just look at Jimmy. That's the normal person's reaction to that joke. John is half the reason Paul has such a big head honestly.

Paul's answer to a question about the Beatles gaining a lot of adult fans is nice. Sometimes he shocks with a bit of wisdom. Sometimes his words don't get messed up at the point they hit his throat as he says.

What the fuck? Okay so the interviewer asks Paul what he likes in a girl, right? I've always been too distracted by Paul saying he likes a sense of humor and John doing an obnoxious fake laugh in the background because John. It's embarrassing how obvious you are. Stop.

But I never noticed Paul actually says “people”. The interviewer asks about girls and he says he likes “people - er - girls” to have a sense of humor. Huh. Okay.

So ULM was actually what made me a serious Beatles fan and this was the first moment where I had to pause it and verify to see if what I'd just read was actually true. It really is a doozy.

How to flirt. A guide by Paul McCartney. Step one: get your crush’s attention. This should be extremely easy. Just gesture vaguely at something you're holding. He'll be interested. Step two: do something suggestive to a phallic object. Step three: that's it. You've got him. He'll do whatever you want.

The editing in this thing truly is brutal. Just the jump cuts from a question about Cynthia to John and Paul making each other laugh to girls screaming to John and Paul unnecessarily touching to girls passed out on the ground to John and Paul desperate for each other's attention to girls waving signs to John and Paul sharing weird eye contact to girls physically mobbing them to John and Paul beaming at each other to a question about Jane. It really does drive home the immense pressure of compulsory heterosexuality back then.

Then a question that's obviously meant to poke a nerve and start some bad feelings. “Paul. Is John the leader of the Beatles?” Easily rebuffed with “no I'm not” and “there's no real leader”. I know I'm dramatic but really it's like every aspect of that society was against them you know? And they just kind of said "fuck you, we're crazy about each other."

Question: what do they think about when they're imprisoned in their hotel rooms? John: we don't think about one thing. *Whips head to look at Paul* well, some of us do. Oh and you know that how exactly? What, do you just have a printout of his every thought? Do you keep constant tabs on his dick?

Someone give me the heterosexual explanation of that moment when John very clearly and obviously checks out and appreciates Paul's ass as he and Ringo are pretending to be cowboys. Seriously. I'm at a loss here.

Poor George tally number six? Seven? They're asked what they'll do if England reinstates the draft. John brings up Southern Ireland. George brings up Germany. Paul and John plan their joint escape to Southern Ireland as if George hadn't even spoken.

The choice to play “Another Girl” over that quote of John's being like ‘Paul's actually much meaner than i am’ is great. Because that's seriously such a jerk song. I don't much like Jane, honestly, but fuck, she deserved so much better than Paul. He was such a douche.

Literally all the song choices in this are phenomenal. “Hide Your Love Away” over the montage of 60s homophobia moments? It's so genius. Saying everything without saying anything. Letting the Beatles do the talking.

The laugh track over the cartoon is honestly so sad. Nobody asked them if they were okay with being mocked like that and they never even made a dime off it. What would that have felt like to know that your being “too close” with your best friend was a running joke on TV?

“It's only love and that is all. Why should I feel the way I do?”

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison

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steddieonbigboy · 2 months

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Equate

written for @steddiemicrofic february prompt ‘edge’ wc: 509 | rated: G | cw: none other than steve being a sportsball enjoyer

🏀 🏀 🏀

"I just don't get how you can be on the edge of your seat over a sportsball game," Eddie frowned, "It's so boring, how d’you get excited over that shit?"

"Eddie, baby, I love you dearly but that is exactly how I feel about your dungeons and dipshits game."

"You know it's dragons, Stevie." He whined, not even trying to hide the pout on his face.

"Do I?"

Eddie hoped the look he gave Steve was as unimpressed as it felt.

"Okay, fine. Dungeons and Dragons. Happy?"

"Eh," Eddie see-sawed his hand as he scrunched his nose, "With the words, yeah. The tone, though? Not so much."

Steve just stuck his tongue out and turned back to the TV, which Eddie thought was kinda rude of him when his question still went unanswered.

"Anyway. Sportsball, boring. You, excited. How? Why?"

"Jesus, Eddie. It's called a hobby. I know you know what that is."

"Thank you, Steven. I certainly am aware of what a hobby is, in fact I may even partake in them from time to time, but what I don't know, is why this is yours?"

"You really need me to explain why I like watching basketball?"

"Yes!"

"Eddie, my love, my life-"

"Please don't fucking quote ABBA at me right now."

"Eddie, the bane of my existence," He raised an eyebrow at Eddie to check whether he found that more suitable and at Eddie's nod continued as if explaining to a toddler, "I like watching basketball because, and I know this might sound like a wild concept, but because I like playing basketball."

"Steeeeve. Baby, I know you like to play the basketball. I don't agree with you, but I understand that. Accept it even. But why do you want to watch someone else play it when you could just go out and you know, do it yourself?"

"Are you saying you'd rather sit in your room alone playing guitar than go to a concert and see a whole band perform?"

"That's different."

"How?"

"It just is," Eddie crossed his arms and tried to keep from whining, "Totally different."

"No, it's not," Steve poked him as he tried to protest, “Me shooting hoops alone and you playing guitar alone equate to the same thing, right?"

"Equate? You need to stop hanging out with Dustin so much."

"Yeah, probably but not the point. The point is they're the same thing. Both of us, on our own, doing something we enjoy and are some level of skilled at, yeah?"

"Fine," Eddie sniffed haughtily, "They fuckin' equate."

"Glad we've established that," Steve smirked, "So therefore, and yes shut up Dustin is a terrible influence, but that means that basketball games and concerts also equate. We get to watch a group of people with more skill, doing something we enjoy, in a way that we will never experience. So, I like watching basketball for the same reason you like going to concerts. It’ll never be us but at least we can imagine it."

"God, I hate it when you make sense."

#my first foray into writing a microfic 👀#steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficfebruary #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #stranger things #bigboywrites #mine

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maxwellatoms · 5 months

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Do you think the new division of Cartoon Network Studios will end up exploiting and abusing AI to make new cartoons of their old properties?

I wouldn't put it past any studio to do this.

We're at the end of The Animation Industry As We Know It, so studios are going to do anything and everything they can to stay alive.

The way I see it is:

AI "art" isn't actually art. Art is created by humans to express ideas and emotions. Writing prompts allows a computer to interpret human ideas and emotions by taking other examples of those things and recombining them.

Just because something isn't art doesn't mean that humans can't understand it or find it beautiful. We passed a really fun prompt generation milestone about a year ago where everything looked like it was made by a Dadaist or someone on heavy psychedelics. Now we're at the Uncanny Valley stage. Soon, you won't be able to tell the difference.

It's not just drawings and paintings that are effected, but writing and film. It's every part of the entertainment industry. And the genie is out of the bottle. I've seen people saying that prompt-based image generators have "democratized" art. And I see where they're coming from. In ten years, I can easily see a future where anyone can sit down at their desk, have a short conversation with their computer, and have a ready-to-watch, custom movie with flawless special effects, passable story, and a solid three act structure. You want to replace Harrison Ford in Star Wars with your little brother and have Chewbacca make only fart sounds, and then they fly to Narnia and fistfight Batman? Done.

But, sadly, long before we reach that ten year mark, the bots will get hold of this stuff and absolutely lay waste to existing art industries. Sure, as a prompter I guess you can be proud of the hours or days you put into crafting your prompts, but you know what's better than a human at crafting prompts? Bots. Imagine bots cranking out hundreds of thousands of full-length feature films per minute. The noise level will squash almost any organic artist or AI prompter out of existence.

AI images trivialize real art. The whole point of a studio is to provide the money, labor, and space to create these big, complicated art projects. But if there are no big, complicated art projects, no creatives leading the charge, and no employees to pay... what the fuck do we need studios for? We won't, but their sheer wealth and power will leave them forcing themselves on us for the rest of our lives.

The near future will see studios clamp down on the tech in order to keep it in their own hands. Disney does tons of proprietary tech stuff, so I'm sure they're ahead of the game. Other studios will continue to seek mergers until they can merge with a content distribution platform. I've heard rumors of Comcast wanting to buy out either WB or Nick. That's the sort of thing I'm talking about. The only winners of this game will be the two or three super-huge distribution platforms who can filter out enough of the spam (which they themselves are likely perpetuating) to provide a reasonable entertainment experience.

400,000 channels and nothing's on.

I do think that money will eventually make the "you can't copyright AI stuff" thing go away. There's also the attrition of "Oh, whoops! We accidentally put an AI actor in there and no one noticed for five years, so now it's cool."

One way or another, it's gonna be a wild ride. As the canary in the coal mine, I hope we can all get some UBI before I'm forced to move into the sewers and go full C.H.U.D.

#maxwell atoms #ai generated #prompters #c.h.u.d.

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whereonceiwasfire · 4 months

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Look. Look. I am as invested as the next person in a nuanced, well-developed exploration of the fractured relationship between the college trio, but I contain multitudes, and also just really need more AUs in my life where Maddie actually knows Vlad is now a ghost loser simp intent on getting Jack out of the picture and plans on ctrl-v-ing himself in his ex-best-friend's place like a badly photoshopped family picture, because I think this has the potential to be absolutely HILARIOUS.

Neither of them tells Jack because Maddie can't bear to break her husband's heart by revealing the truth about their long-lost friend, and Vlad won't tell him because, on top of the obvious reasons, Jack also keeps inviting Vlad to stuff. Family dinner? Danny's school events? Camping trips? It's remarkably convenient as it puts him in a great position to play Uncle Vlad until he can successfully enact his bonkers plan.

Except now, in addition to Danny knowing Vlad is up to no good and being very much not on board with the Fruitloop's whole shtick, Maddie's in the same boat too. But Maddie and Danny are keeping this info from each other because she still doesn't/can't know her son is Phantom and if Danny outs Vlad, Vlad will turn around and spill his little secret too. And for Maddie's part, she probably just doesn't want her son knowing that Vlad is a ghost. It's a bad look to admit you've welcomed a specter from the afterlife into your house (on multiple occasions) when you've spouted off how dangerous these creatures are since your kiddos could walk.

This sets up a scenario where you've got Jack: oblivious, Danny: trying not to reveal his secret while also keeping Vlad from murdering his dad, Maddie: being a badass ghost hunter protecting her family and blasting Vlad into next Tuesday every chance she gets, and Vlad: just, being very...Vlad about everything. Chaos and hilarity ensues.

Can you see my vision?

Jack's humming to himself while making dinner, back turned, unaware anything is amiss as Maddie saves his life, firing a blaster at Plasmius and sending him through a wall before he can attack her husband. She immediatley hides the ecto-weapon behind her back, giving a too-enthusastic "how was your day sweetie!" when Danny walks in the door, brows raised. Jack turns around at the interruption, giving a bright, oblivious, "Where'd Vladdy go?!" which prompts a groan and a "that guy's here again?" from Danny.

Maddie and Danny can bond over their shared aversion to Vlad's general existance, though neither of them admit there's a little more to it than just "he's an arrogant asshole." Or, better yet, they're both putting on the facade, keeping up pretenses, pretending they don't despise the dude, because how are they supposed to explain why they despise the dude? Vlad is impossibly amused by the whole song and dance they're doing, because of course, he's the only one who realizes that Maddie and Danny both know he's a half ghost and are keeping that from each other. And like, as if he's going to let them in on that little tidbit unless it directly benefits him.

Sometimes Maddie and Danny run into awkward situations where they're both trying to protect Jack, but they don't realize it, and they can't be overt about it without the other person realizing what's going on. "Don't you have homework? You go do that, I'll check on your father and...uncle Vlad." "Oh, no, no, don't you worry about it, you're so busy, Mom. I can go check on them!" "That's really not necessary. I don't mind at all." Meanwhile, Vlad is in the kitchen like "why don't you check that cooking oil with your face, Jack? Oh, I know it sounds unorthodox, but I swear that's how they do it in France."

#danny phantom #dp #dp thoughts #vlad masters #maddie fenton #Jack fenton #college trio thoughts #au #au thoughts

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 2 years

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Halloween prompts no. 19

Danny is flung into a new dimension by Skulker and they continue to fight above a strange city. Danny makes sure to end it quickly after that in case he attracts the attention of yet another person or group of people who want to hurt him for whatever reason..

He flies into a nearby building only to discover a freaky mad scientists lab and finds a clone of someone named "Robin". The clone was appearently a baby that they were planning on brainwashing and raising in a cult like setting to kill the "Bats"

"Jee, is the rodent problem that bad?!" Either way he decides to kidnap the baby and destroy everything in a blaze of glory. No child soldiers on his watch. No siree! He then portals his way home.

What he did not count on was him immediately running into his parents in his ghost form with a very alive baby in his arms. They stared eachother down in uncharacteristic silence, one afraid that they would hurt the baby with thier reckless firing and the others staring slack jawed cause why does he have a baby?!

The whole of Amity Park is also asking this question. Many assume its his, despite his age because teenages parents do exist, plus phantom kept calling it "his" baby so...

Others are worried that he might have just taken a baby from a dangerous environment and decided to keep it not realizing how much work a baby is. (Spot on) Both theories raise questions about how ghosts view families and how they reproduce. Upon asking Phantom he turned bright green, made a witty one liner and bolted.

Frostbite calls Danny in to give a check up to both him and the baby and uses this time to get a DNA sample from the child, and with a bit of ghostly magic he tracks down the parents and contacts them by straight up ringing thier doorbell. He and Alfred get along immediately.

Eventually Frosty tricks Phantom into coming back to Gotham and reveals the babies paternity in front of the batfam and the bird in question (whichever one) is freaking out a bit, "I'm too young to be a father!" style and Dannys like, "Cool. Cause I have no intention of sharing! Byeeee!" Before vanishing. Frostbite wants a nap.

Cue batfam following Phantom back to his dimension via Frostbite only to discover various people in Amity Park have also grouped together armed with ghost hunting gear to capture Phantom and get the baby away from him. Yeah, they know the kid has good intentions but hes only 14 and its not good for him or the baby. So they're effectively acting like undead CPS.

About time.

Anyway, Danny realizes he can't revert to his living form because his ecto signature would still ping on the equipment as Phantom and thats not something he wants to explain right now. Or possibly ever. With that being said he refuses to abandon his child. Hes only had them for two weeks and they're already his whole world.

Sam keeps telling him this was stupid and even Tuckers concerned. "How will you take care of a baby, dude? You can't even balance your hero life with you real life" Okay, fair. Jazz then started talking to him about talking to the babys father to at least get some help raising them and Danny finally agreed. For the baby's sake.

Bruce is so relieved when he finally gets to see his grandchild safe and sound.

#dp x dc #fanfiction prompts #prompts #danny fenton #danny phantom #batman #robin #ghost cps #the civilians are better at catching ghosts than the actal ghost hunters #the bats are gonna go ham trying to catch Phantom amd the baby #idc which robin you choose #damian might actually acept it though #he might try to fight phantom for full custody and phantom is going to tell him hes lucky he gets to SEE the baby at all #danny has already named the baby #the batfam are not happy about this #they wanted to help pick a name #oooh what if its a steph clone???#it would be a nice twist #halloween prompts

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imagine-you · 6 months

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Don't Blame Me (1/3) [Billy Hargrove/Reader; eventual Eddie Munson/Reader; Billy Hargrove/Reader/Eddie Munson]

Summary: One boyfriend clawing his way free from the clutches of the Upside Down once it decided to unleash its own brand of hell on Hawkins was a miracle you weren't sure you entirely deserved. When another previously dead boyfriend shows up on your doorstep and throws your whole world into chaos, you start to wonder if it's a blessing or a curse. You're terrified you'll have to choose between your first love and the guy who saved you from yourself, but will that turn out to be the least of your worries? As word begins to spread around town of a masked killer draining Hawkins residents of their blood, you realize you're a lot closer to danger than you've ever been before, but maybe, just this once, it's not such a bad thing after all. Word Count: 6.3k Author's Notes: Somehow, this was born out of an obsession with Don't Blame Me by Taylor Swift and a need to write a darker fic. I wrote the ghostface fic last year for Halloween along with a demon!Billy and vampire!Eddie fic…and somehow they're all meshing together to create one big fucked up Halloween fic this year. I don't even know what the fuck I'm doing at this point, but uhhhhh enjoy my insanity??

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"Don't blame me," were the first words Billy Hargrove ever said to you. It was quickly followed by: "It's the freak's fault."

"Oh, forgive me for walking," Eddie Munson said in a mocking tone, holding his hands up in surrender. "Blame Mr. Mullethead over here for being too cool to look where he's going," Eddie sneered at Billy.

At that point in time, you didn't really care whose fault it was. You were only concerned about the fact that your shirt was now covered in soda and you were either going to have to go home or suffer through the rest of the day with a soaked shirt. "Shit," you sighed, realizing you were just going to have to go home. You would have to make up a test, but you were starting not to care. After a day that had started off with a stubbed toe, a burned finger, and now a sticky shirt, you would rather just suffer through the rest of the day from the comfort of your own bedroom. "Whatever," you dismissed. "Just another reason I should get the fuck out of here."

You turned, not bothering to spare a second look for the other two, before making a break for the cafeteria doors.

"Shit," you heard someone mutter before footsteps took off in your direction. You refused to look back to see which of the two dickheads who had spilled soda all over you was behind you, prompting the guy to huff in irritation. "Just, damn it, would you hold on a second? Where the hell are you going?"

"Home," you snapped, allowing yourself a brief moment to glance over your shoulder to confirm that Billy Hargrove was in fact following you.

"You don't even have a car," Billy pointed out, surprising you. Today was the first day you exchanged anything resembling a conversation with Billy and you had just been living with the assumption that he had no idea you existed. "What are you gonna do? Walk home?"

"Maybe," you answered, quickening your pace in an attempt to get rid of Billy. You were cold and pissed off and you wanted nothing more than to just pull on a pair of pajamas and crawl into bed. "Why are you still following me?" You asked when you realized he hadn't taken the hint that you wanted him to get lost.

"Look, will you stop being so damn stubborn and just talk to me for a second?"

You reluctantly turned to face Billy, abruptly stopping him in his tracks. "Okay. What do you want?"

"I'm not exactly taking the blame or anything here," Billy started, hastily reaching out to grab your backpack and sling it over his shoulder, "but the least I can do is give you a ride home."

You studied him for a moment, half-sure he was only offering because he wanted an excuse to cut class. You also got the feeling that he was going to hold your backpack hostage until you agreed. It didn't take long for you to realize you didn't care about Billy’s motives as long as his offer worked out for the both of you. If you didn't have to walk home, then all the better. "Fine," you finally conceded with a shrug of your shoulders. You stepped to the side, gesturing for Billy to walk by you. "Lead the way, then."

He watched you for a moment as if he thought you might turn and run the second he had his back to you. Finally, after a few more seconds of deliberation, Billy turned and started walking. You followed him, not entirely sure if you were making the right decision. You also couldn't stop your gaze from drifting, taking in the so-called 'fantastic ass' most of the girls had been going on about since Billy Hargrove showed up at the beginning of the year. You were forced to look away when Billy stopped at the doors leading out to the parking lot. He pushed open one of them, beckoning for you to pass him.

"Such a gentleman," you told him as you walked outside, catching the faint smirk on his face.

"Yeah, well, it had to happen sometime," he drawled as he followed you. "It's that one over there," he told you, directing you towards his Camaro with a hand on the small of your back.

"I know," you pointed out with an amused smile in his direction. "You're not as subtle as you think."

"Well, she's the best thing to ever happen to me," Billy admitted with a shrug of his shoulders. "Why not show her off a little? She deserves it."

"She does," you agreed, smiling at the way Billy tried and failed not to light up at your praise. "She is really beautiful."

"Damn right she is," Billy purred, satisfaction bleeding through into his tone. When you looked up at him, you expected to see him gazing at his beloved car in adoration, but instead, he was watching you. You felt your cheeks flush, trying to hide the fact that you were feeling flustered from his attention. Billy was a notorious flirt and you didn't want to be like every other girl who had fallen prey to his charm.

"Ready to go?" You asked, lamely trying to shift the focus of the conversation. "I'm freezing."

"Shit, yeah, we should get you out of those wet clothes," Billy said, moving to open the passenger side door of his car for you. You didn't miss the hint of suggestion in his voice, but if you were going to survive even just five minutes alone in a car with Billy Hargrove, then you were just going to have to ignore it.

Once Billy pulled out of the school parking lot, you started offering him directions towards your house.

"So," you started, once Billy hit the long stretch of road that would lead to your house. "Graduation is coming up in a couple months."

"Yeah? What about it?" Billy's tone didn't waver, but from the way he started tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, you got the feeling that talking about graduation made him nervous.

"Nothing," you said, shrugging your shoulders. "Just wondering what you've got planned after it's all over."

Billy snorted, the sound half amused and half derisive. "I'm just trying to get to graduation. Haven't thought much about what comes after."

"Well," you started, not even sure where you were going with your sentence. You frowned thoughtfully out the window, trying to think of something to say, but accidentally letting silence fall over the car.

"Well?" Billy prompted with a glance at you. "There anything after that or you forget how to talk?"

You rolled your eyes, a reluctant grin pulling at your lips. "Maybe," you answered, refusing to admit that you were so nervous you didn't know how to talk to him. Billy was cool and suave and had all the girls at school in a chokehold. When you woke up that morning, you didn't expect to say two words to him, much less find yourself in his car and expected to keep up a conversation.

"Why do you walk to school every day?" Billy broke the silence, finally taking pity on you.

"I'm a senior in high school," you pointed out with a shrug of your shoulders. "I can't afford a car and I’m sure as hell not asking my mom to help me get one. And I’ll just feel really pathetic if I'm seen riding the bus, so I might as well take my only other option."

“What about your dad? He some kind of deadbeat or something? Can’t help his kid get a car?”

You snorted, not able to help the noise of contempt you made. “You could say that,” you answered. “He split a few years back and we haven’t heard from him since.”

“Sounds like a real piece of shit,” Billy observed with a frown.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “So, no car and no bus means I’ve got to walk. At least it’s just for a few more months. Once I graduate, I can get a job and figure all that shit out.”

"Well," Billy started, squinting his eyes at the road ahead, lost in thought.

"Well?" You mocked, drawing a surprised laugh from Billy.

"I could just drive you to school," he offered, shooting you a brief, searching look. "Wouldn't even make you chip in for gas money or anything."

"Why?" You couldn't help but wonder. Billy didn't seem like the kind of guy to dole out charity rides in his beloved car. "What's in it for you?"

"Just seems a shame, is all," he told you. "Someone like you freezing her ass off every day. Besides, it'll give us a chance to get to know each other a little better."

You let out an incredulous laugh, not sure how your life had gotten so spun around in just the matter of a few hours. "And you want to get to know me better?"

"I do," Billy responded with a nod of his head. "So, what do you think?" He asked as he pulled to a stop in front of your house. "You in?"

You knew immediately the answer you wanted to give, but you stopped yourself before you could say anything. It was crazy, right? You weren't supposed to accept rides from strangers, but Billy didn't feel strange to you. You didn't know him all that well, sure, but like he pointed out, you could always get to know him a bit better. There probably wasn't any harm in that. "Sure," you finally agreed, flashing him a grin. "I'm in."

There was a part of you that thought maybe Billy was just kidding around when he offered to drive you to school. Maybe it was his idea of a joke or a way to get under your skin, but he managed to surprise you when you stepped outside the next morning, and he was there waiting in your driveway. "Shit," you muttered as you turned to lock your front door. "What the hell have I gotten myself into?"

You settled into a surprisingly easy pattern with Billy over the next few weeks. He picked you up, told you to ignore his stepsister in the backseat, and cranked up his music so loud that you could barely think. Half the time, you were able to actually hold some semblance of a conversation with either Billy or Max, but never both at the same time. It wasn't hard to figure out that they didn't exactly get along, but you weren't sure how to fix it. You probably shouldn't feel the need to fix it in the first place, but that was just who you were. You couldn't fix your own problems half the time, so why not try to fix everyone else's?

You forced yourself to keep your mouth shut, though. Billy rarely allowed you to see a different side to him than his usual cool demeanor, but when it was just the two of you in his car, he started to unwind just the tiniest bit. It started off slowly from singing along to the radio under his breath or nodding his head along to the music to letting slip bits and pieces of his life pre-Hawkins and talking about his plans for the future. They were all moments that you filed away to examine later, because you knew that if Billy knew just how much it meant to you that he was starting to let you in, then he would shut you out.

It didn't take long for you to realize Billy Hargrove was a broken person. He did his best to hide who he really was from everyone at school, but you were no stranger to suffering in silence. There was pain in his eyes every time he looked at you and you wanted nothing more than to heal him.

You thought that more than anything, maybe he just needed a friend. He needed someone to genuinely care about him, because he didn't seem to have anyone. His mom wasn't in the picture and from the way Billy spoke about him, it sounded like his father was a complete jackass. Max didn't seem fond of Billy and you were sure his stepmom felt the same way. He had fans, not friends, at school and enemies he made with every biting, sarcastic comment.

So, yeah, you could be his friend. It wasn't all that much of a hardship, because once Billy started to allow his walls to come down around you, you came to the startling conclusion that you genuinely liked him.

By the time spring break rolled around, you realized you were going to miss seeing Billy every day at school. You shouldn't have worried, though, because that Monday afternoon you were roused from your bed by the sound of someone honking a car horn from your driveway. "Fuck," you groaned, knowing there was only one person who was capable of annoying you out of bed during spring break.

You rushed to pull on the pair of jeans you had left on your floor the day before and tried to make sure you didn't look like a complete mess as you passed your vanity mirror. By the time you made it outside, Billy had started keeping up a steady rhythm with the car horn, only stopping once he noticed you.

"What the hell are you doing?" You asked once you were in his passenger seat. “You’re lucky my mom is at work or she would’ve called the cops on you.”

"Just thought we could do something," he offered with a shrug of his shoulders. "Beats you moping around your house all day because you miss my face."

“You caught me,” you drawled, putting a hand to your chest. “The pictures all over my room weren’t enough. I just had to get a glimpse of the real thing.”

“I knew it!” Billy crowed with a delighted laugh. “What do you say, then? Wanna get out of here?”

"Okay," you agreed with a nod of your head. "So, what'd you have in mind?"

You ended up going for a burger and fries that day and to the movies on Wednesday. You dragged Billy to the arcade on Thursday and let him take you to the quarry on Saturday. He seemed to content to simply throw rocks into the water and smoke through half a pack of cigarettes, all the while letting you ramble on about everything you needed to do before you graduated.

Billy took a drag before he shook his head. "You worry too much," he sighed, shooting you an annoyed look. "You're gonna graduate and go off to school and land some job making a bunch of money. You'll get out of here and forget about all this bullshit," he told you, waving his cigarette in the air as he gestured towards the town.

There was a hint of melancholy in his tone that told you that what Billy was really worried about was that you would forget him. "Fuck that," you found yourself saying, moving until you could stand at his side. "We are going to graduate and get summer jobs. Then we'll get an apartment, because who would be better roommates than us, right? And then we'll figure it out from there. But I'm not gonna just forget about you. You're stuck with me," you told him, delighting in the rare, pleased smile that tugged at his lips.

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed, briefly bumping his shoulder against yours before taking another drag from his cigarette. "A fucking stupid plan on your part, but it works for me."

"Good," you told him. "Now, let's go get something to eat. I'm starving."

After spring break, your routine with Billy changed. Instead of dropping you off at your house first, he chose to get Max home before driving out to a local burger joint. You paid just as often as Billy did, letting him know you were just as invested in your friendship as he was and you weren’t looking to take advantage of him. Billy seemed to think it was stupid, but you didn’t care.

By the time summer was on the horizon, Billy had firmly cemented himself into your life as your best friend. There was no doubt in your mind that the bond you shared with him was special, and in a roundabout way, you had Eddie Munson and his clumsiness to thank for that.

You depended on Billy to get you through the day and you looked forward to whatever scathing comments he had to make about his day or fellow classmates and teachers. You couldn't wait to hear him sing along to Billy Idol or Bon Jovi, growing bolder each day and letting himself unwind around you. You loved the sound of his laugh and the way his eyes lit up when he got you to sing along to the radio with him. You found yourself talking more about your future together and which apartments around town you might be able to afford as senior year came to an end.

You didn't even realize how much your feelings for Billy had evolved until you were leaving school one day in late May.

You walked outside, shielding your eyes against the sun, before scanning the parking lot. When you saw him, it felt like someone punched you in the gut. Billy was leaning up against his car, waiting for you to find him. It was usual and routine, but the second your eyes met his across the parking lot, a terrifying feeling poured through you. You felt like someone had just tipped your world to the side. Your breath left you all in one rush as you scrambled to pin down what was so different about this time. It took you entirely too long to realize what had stopped you in your tracks.

Want.

You wanted Billy. It felt all-consuming, causing your mind to spin in a dozen different directions.

You wanted Billy to take your hand and press a kiss to your lips. You wanted to sneak him through your bedroom window so he could hold you close all night long. You wanted more than dinners and movies and shared laughter. You wanted a next step and a next, until both of your lives were so inextricably joined that there was no question that wherever one of you went, the other would follow.

You knew you probably looked like you were having a meltdown when his expression morphed from one of expectation to one of concern. You forced yourself to take a deep, albeit shaky, breath and put one foot in front of the other until you were standing in front of him.

"Hey," you made yourself say. "Ready to go?"

Billy squinted at you before looking you up and down. "You doing alright? You looked like you weren't sure if you wanted to come over here. Did something happen?"

"What? No!" You scoffed, turning away from him so he wouldn’t see you trying to school your expression into something that didn’t make you look like a lovestruck idiot. "Of course I wanted to come over here. With you," you added, wincing at your own ineptitude.

"Okay," Billy finally allowed, drawing out the word. "Get in," he said, gesturing for you to climb into the passenger seat.

Once you were aware of your feelings for Billy, it seemed to be all you could think about. It wasn't even when you were around him, either. Lying in bed at night, you wished he was there with you. Every little mundane act of your life felt like it would be made completely better if Billy was just there with you and you weren't sure how long you could go on hiding what you wanted from him.

"So," Billy started on the last Friday of your senior year. "Want to go out for dinner tomorrow? Celebrate our impending freedom?"

"Sounds good," you agreed, staring out the passenger side window. Every time Billy asked you to hang out, you felt a little thrill shoot through you. What did it mean? Was it just as friends or was he also just trying to find ways to spend more time with you? You tried not to get your hopes up, because you didn’t want to ruin your friendship with Billy, but you couldn’t stop yourself from contemplating all the possibilities. "Burgers?" You suggested with a quick look at him.

"Nah," Billy answered, pulling to a stop in front of your house. "I've got something else in mind. Be ready by seven," he ordered.

You weren't sure what you were expecting, but Billy bringing you to one of the best Italian places within a twenty-mile radius of Hawkins wasn't it.

"What are we doing here?" You couldn't help but ask, hoping he wouldn't find offense in the question. By ‘something else,’ you had assumed Billy maybe meant going out for pizza, but the restaurant you were staring up at looked so far out of your usual price range that you weren’t even sure how either of you could afford it.

"Just thought we could try something new," Billy answered with a shrug of his shoulders.

When you looked at him, you noticed that he was wearing a pair of jeans without any holes or rips in the knees. His shirt was buttoned up and his bomber jacket was nowhere in sight. You weren't sure why Billy dressing up made you feel nervous, but you were suddenly aware of how clammy your hands felt.

"Wait there a second," Billy told you before he got out of his car. He rounded the hood before pulling the passenger door open, gesturing for you to get out.

Billy led you inside the restaurant, informing the maître d’ that he had a reservation for Hargrove. A waiter led you back to a table and Billy pulled a chair out for you, gesturing for you to sit down. You could feel your cheeks flush and you weren't sure if you looked as unsure as you felt, but once it was just the two of you at the table, you started to feel like everything would be okay. You were back on sure footing, because this was just a regular dinner with Billy, right? He was only going all out because he wanted to celebrate the fact that you were both about to finish high school.

It wasn't until Billy slid a menu over towards you that it all finally started to click into place for you.

"Order whatever you want, okay? I'm buying." There was a waver to his voice that had you flicking your gaze up from the menu to look at him.

You studied Billy for a moment, trying to figure out why the hell he sounded so nervous, when you got it.

"Is this a date?" You blurted with a startled look at Billy.

Billy rolled his eyes before shaking his head in fake dismay. "I thought you were the smart one, y'know? It took you long enough to figure it out. Thought you would've got it when I took you here instead of Burger Barn for the fiftieth time."

You weren't sure how to react for a moment, trying and failing to process the fact that you were on a date with your best friend, before the rest of his words sunk in. You let out a disbelieving laugh before grabbing a breadstick from the basket in the middle of the table. You ripped it in two before throwing half at Billy. He let out a thrilled, shocked laugh before he picked up the breadstick and pointedly took a bite out of it.

You weren't the kind for flowery bits of prose to describe your every waking moment. You would never be described as dreamy or wistful, but you couldn't deny that your first date with Billy felt entirely and completely magical.

By the time he was dropping you off at home, you realized you never wanted it to end. You hesitated before getting out of the car, shooting Billy an unsure look. Finally, you worked up all your courage and kissed him. Billy froze the moment your lips touched his and you were briefly worried that you had gone too fast. You shouldn't have been scared, though, because Billy suddenly jolted against you, as if springing to life, before his hand was in your hair and guiding you closer towards him.

By the time you pulled away, you had missed your curfew by ten minutes and you couldn't help the urge to go for broke.

"Wanna come up? I can sneak you in."

"What if your mom finds out? She'll kill us."

You shrugged your shoulders, helpless against the grin you shot him. "Let's risk it anyway."

Billy's laugh was more than enough incentive to carry through with your plan.

That night proved to you what you had known all along. Billy really did belong at your side, in your bed, holding you close. It was even better than you expected and you hoped the tiny flame of warmth lighting you up from the inside never died out.

You snuck Billy into your room every night until graduation. Your mom already knew how you felt about Billy and while she was never going to be happy about anyone stealing her only kid away, she supported your plan to move in with Billy over the summer. Her graduation gift to you was to pay for your deposit on an apartment, which meant that you were able to find a place with Billy by the time he took a job as a lifeguard at the Hawkins community pool.

You took a job at Bradley’s Big Buy, since you only had your meager savings to rely on. It wasn't the most glamorous of jobs, but it would help you pay rent while you took classes at Hawkins Community College.

That June was shaping up to be one of the best months of your entire life. To anyone else, it might seem mundane and boring, but you didn't care. Every day, you got to wake up next to Billy in the bed you shared before getting up and making breakfast. Trading early morning kisses before leaving for classes got you through the day until Billy picked you up after your shift at the store. By the time you were crawling into bed, you felt satisfied and fulfilled, knowing you were falling asleep next to your best friend just to wake up with his arm around your waist the next morning, set to go through it all again.

You were so used to the routine you set with Billy that you felt bereft when it was abruptly broken.

It started for you when Billy didn't bother to pick you up from Bradley's after your shift. You were worried something happened to him, but you hoped that maybe he had simply fallen asleep on the couch after his shift at the pool. You had to call your mom to give you a ride home, since you didn't feel comfortable walking home alone at night.

When you didn't spot the Camaro in your designated parking spot at the complex, you started fearing the worst. You knew Billy wouldn't just not come home. Something bad had happened to him and you didn't have the first clue about what to do to find him.

Your options were limited, but you finally got your mom to let you borrow her car so you could drive around Hawkins and look for Billy. You didn't find him that night and you didn't find him the next night. You checked with every hospital in a fifty-mile radius, but there wasn't anyone admitted fitting Billy's description.

You finally tracked him down two days after he went missing from your life at the city pool. You knew there was something wrong with him when you caught sight of him sitting in the lifeguard chair wearing a sweatshirt. There was no way that Billy could be cold, and even when he was, he wasn't the type to cover up. He would never actually admit it to anyone, but you knew he liked to show off his physique. He worked hard for it and while you never wanted to begrudge him anything he wanted, the wandering eyes of Hawkins housewives bothered you. To see him covered up and hunched in on himself, gloomily sipping an Icee was just downright bizarre and completely out of character for him.

"Billy," you called, walking up to him. You noticed his shoulders tense before he tipped his head down to stare at you.

"What?" he asked, his tone cold and detached.

"What do you mean 'what'? Where the hell have you been? I’ve been worried sick thinking you were dead in a ditch somewhere!" You weren’t sure whether to feel angry that he was being so flippant about his sudden absence from your life or relieved that he was alive.

"Around," he answered, casting his gaze up towards the sky. "Taking care of some things."

"Billy," you started, not sure how to continue. "Come home," you finally made yourself say. "Whatever this is or whatever happened, we'll figure it out, alright? Just come home," you begged, hating how your voice cracked on the word 'home.' Your home wasn't much of a home without Billy. You missed hearing his laugh and seeing how crazy his hair was every morning. You missed feeling his warmth in your bed next to you and the way he hummed whatever tune he had stuck in his head while he cooked breakfast. You missed his touch and his kisses and everything about him.

Billy let out a chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine. You knew it was probably crazy, but it sounded nothing like Billy. You suddenly felt like you were talking to a complete stranger. "There's nothing to figure out. I got bored, so I left.

"Bored," you repeated, trying to make sense of the word. "You got bored." It was like a switch had flipped and your whole world was turned upside down. You had always feared that Billy would get tired of domestic life with you, but you never once thought it would actually happen.

"Bored," Billy drawled with a nod of his head. "So, fuck off. And don't bother me again," he added, almost as an afterthought.

You wanted to yell and scream and try to get Billy to make some kind of sense, but you could feel tears beginning to sting your eyes and you didn't want to cry in front of him. "Fuck you," you snarled before turning away. You felt like you couldn't breathe as you walked away from him, every step taking you away from him another punch to your gut.

You were trying to figure out if it was worth it to walk home or if you should find a payphone to try to get in touch with your mom when you heard someone call your name.

You were surprised to see Max approaching you. "Are you okay? Did Billy--," she cut herself off, searching your expression with worry. "Did Billy hurt you?"

"You could say that," you scoffed, attempting to hide the pain you felt, but unable to stop the tears slipping down your face. "I think we broke up."

"Y/N," Max said, moving closer to you. "I don't think Billy's himself right now," she explained, her brow furrowing in concern. "But we're gonna try to fix it, okay? Just maybe steer clear of him until it's over."

"What? Until what's over? Max!" You called as she walked away from you. You saw Max rejoin her friends, all of them huddled by the fence that surrounded the pool. You had no idea what the hell was going on, but Max's words brought you just the tiniest bit of hope. Maybe you hadn't lost Billy after all. Maybe it was all just a big misunderstanding.

You continued to go about your life as much as you could despite the fact that Billy hadn't come home yet. The whole town was excited about the big Fourth of July celebration, but you couldn't have cared less. That was why you were at the store while most of the town was celebrating. You liked hanging out in the back room while the store was closed. It was better than going back to an empty apartment at any rate. Your boss was fine with it as long as you remembered to lock up and didn't make a mess, so you compensated him for his generosity by making sure the store looked perfect by the time it opened the next morning.

You weren't expecting to see anyone for the rest of the night, so you were surprised when a car pulled into the lot. You were ready to tell whoever it was that the store was closed, but when you noticed Max getting out of the car, helping an injured girl out of the back, you found yourself unlocking the door instead.

"Max? What the hell's going on?"

"We needed some supplies," she said, nodding towards the injured girl. "A lot of them."

You had no idea what was going on, but if Max was involved, then you wanted to help. "Take whatever you need," you told her, gesturing for her and the rest of the group to enter the store. “Just don’t make a mess, alright?”

You weren't quite sure why Max was hanging out with Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers or why they all seemed like they were traumatized out of their minds. You knew you would be in for a world of trouble the next time inventory was taken, but you didn't care. There was a feeling in your gut that told you whatever had spooked the others had something to do with Billy. So, while they loaded up the car with fireworks and medical supplies, you calmly locked up the store and turned to face Max.

"I'm coming with you."

"What? Y/N, no, you can't. It’s not safe," Max tried to dissuade you. She shared a panicked look with Lucas Sinclair before looking back at you.

"I can," you told her, knowing you weren't about to be left behind. "Whatever's going on, I can help. I can’t just sit here all night wondering if you’re okay. I’m going with you."

"You really shouldn't," Dustin Henderson chimed in with a frown. “You’ve got no idea what you’re throwing yourself into.”

"I don’t care,” you dismissed with a shake of your head. “Look, I'm not staying behind while you all run off into danger. I've already let you steal from my job. Just let me do this.”

"Get in," Nancy told you, ignoring Max’s noise of protest. “We’re wasting time arguing.”

“Just...,” Max trailed off, shooting you an uncertain look. “Just try to keep an open mind. I promise you’re not going crazy.”

Those words would prove to haunt you, because what you experienced next felt like a complete and total shredding of your sanity.

Your night descended into complete chaos. Hiding from a gargantuan, fleshy monster was one thing, but seeing Billy attempt to run Nancy over with his precious Camaro while she attempted to shoot him was a completely different one. You didn’t even get to see if Billy was okay after someone crashed into his car because you were being yanked into a car by Steve 'The Hair' Harrington before you could be killed by the monster that was terrorizing the mall.

None of it made sense and despite getting a brief rundown on the Upside Down and a girl with superpowers and the monster that had infected your boyfriend and numerous other people around Hawkins, you still couldn’t wrap your head around how the night ended.

Because there was no way in hell it was real. You could accept that everything else was possible, but seeing Billy slump to the floor, bleeding and broken, was the one thing you couldn’t believe.

"Billy!" You cried, rushing forward, hardly caring about the monster that was still standing. All you could see was the pain and agony on Billy's face as he fell. You pulled him into your arms, your hand shaking as you attempted to wipe the blood from his face. But it wasn't even really blood. It was black and viscous, sticking to your hand as you met Billy's eyes. He looked so lost and terrified that you couldn't help the sob of anguish that escaped your mouth at the sight of him. "Don't leave me," you begged him. "Stay with me, alright? We'll get you help. We’ll fix this."

"Sorry," Billy gasped, his body convulsing in your hold. "I'm sorry," he said, his eyes tracking from you to someone standing over your shoulder. He looked to you again, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "Should've--," he started, before he cut himself off, coughing up a mouthful of clotted blood. "Love you," he got out with a gasp. "Love...," he trailed off before his eyes closed, leaving you clutching him tight, fighting the urge to shake him and demand he open his eyes.

"Billy? Billy!" Max yelled before falling to her knees beside you. "Billy, get up. Get up!" She demanded, putting her hand on his shoulder. "We need you," Max tried, tears beginning to stream down her face. "I need you. Y/N needs you!" She pleaded, meeting your eyes. "What do we do?"

But there wasn’t anything you could do. Billy wasn’t moving and he wasn’t breathing and he wasn’t alive.

Billy wasn’t alive.

You felt like you couldn't breathe and there was something clawing up your throat, begging to break free. It felt like it was going to split you apart and you desperately clung to Billy’s body as you lost your fight against it.

It wasn't until later when you were sitting in the back of an ambulance with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders that you realized what it was.

A scream.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #billy hargrove x reader x eddie munson #don't blame me fic #stranger things #stranger things imagine #billy hargrove imagine #eddie munson imagine #reader insert #my fic

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myoddessy · 1 year

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I’ve just found you from whoetoshaw’s blog and WOW! I love your blog! 💞

🎀 anything with Freezy?! Maybe like a reunion/rekindling type-thing from back then to now? Like friends who were shipped back then and date now? I hope that makes sense 🥲 Xx

aww, thank you!! I was waiting for a prompt like this 😭 I hope you like it!

September 2016.

January 2017.

liked by calfreezy, wroetoshaw, joeygraceffa, and 872,519 others

yourusername Through My Eyes 2016 out now. So much has changed for me over the past year, I (finally) got my own place, I've met so many new people, and we hit 5 million subscribers!! Thank you all so much for all you've supported me through this year, and let's hope for an equally amazing TME of 2017! 💞💞

ynfan4 Oh I've been waiting for the highlight of my year!!

taliamar Good to see my festival feature is still the best part of the video. So proud of you girl ❤️

ynxcal4ever At 14.52 when it's just Y/n and Cal in their kitchen for the last time before she moved out and they remade the first ever thing they cooked together 😭😭 I'm so emotional right now

calfreezy I would say I had a glow up but after watching this I realised that I've always been mindblowingly attractive

yourusername The real reason I had to move out was because your big head was leaving dents in the wall anymore and I didn't want to feel like I was living with two Harrys xoxo 😘😘

wroetoshaw Oi! What did I do?

yourusername Broke my LED mirror by throwing a controller at it.

sdmnsundayz Y/n is a Saint for putting up with them.

January 2020.

liked by youtube, oliviarodrigo, miniminter, and 1,982,370 others

yourusername Through My Eyes 2019 is out now. Enjoy a year of travel across the world and the family who kept me strong through all of it. Thank you all for every line we've crossed and every milestone we hit this year, I love you all so so much 💘💘

calfreezy This is my favourite one out of all of them

yourusername Is it because you're in pretty much every frame?

calfreezy Obviously

freyanightingale Ibiza you will always be famous!

taliamar We need to go back ASAP

yourusername Opening scene to the next tme planned? I think so

ynslover 'Cal and Y/n' this, 'Y/n and the girls' that, yes it's cute but can we take a moment to appreciate how STUNNING she looked in this video???

ynfreezy LITERALLY. Like shes always been stunning but something in the foreign air made her a literal goddess it's not even funny

calsfreezys the bi panic was panicking HARD

taliaxynxfreya Currently crying over the fact that Y/n and Cal were together in most of the shots

w2minter There's no way they're not together.

January 2023.

liked by emmachamberlain, gracieabrams, faithlouisak, and 3,419,778 others

yourusername through my eyes 2022, you are my soul. despite me saying this every time I post one of these videos, I mean it now more than ever. from hitting 25 MILLION subscribers (what???), to hosting interviews at the MET gala, to truly falling in love, thank you to you all, and thank you to the universe for guiding me to where I am now. I truly cannot put my gratitude into words 💞💞💞

faithlouisak beautiful girl, beautiful video, beautiful vibe. the best part of every year xx ❤️❤️

yourusername love u more than words can describe ❤️

calfreezy I guess the amount of clips of you laughing makes up for the lack of me

calfreezy barely, though

calfreezy I better be heavily featured in the next one

yourusername I'll make a whole video dedicated to you if that's what you want

ynfan124 how do his tantrums work on you 😭

yourusername I've learned through many years that its better to just give him what he wants

mintertalia Y/N SOFT LAUNCHING???? this is a make or break for the cal and y/n shippers

yn2s yall still exist? give in, it's been years, if they were going to reveal something then they would've done it by now

mintertalia bro stfu you're a ship account for two people who've called each other siblings 😭

yourusername just posted !

liked by ksi, calfreezy, mikesmic, and 3,998,770 others

yourusername @calfreezy satisfied?

YNXCAL NO FUXKING WAY

ynslover YOU CANNOT JUST DROP THIS ON US QUEEN

calfreezy it'll do

yourusername what if I broke up with you

calfreezy you'd miss me too much

taliamar cuties!!

freyanightingale what happened to soft launching it? 🤣

yourusername got bored, felt like causing drama

#calfreezy x reader #calfreezy #calfreezy imagine #calfreezy x you #calfreezy x y/n #youtube fanfic #youtube x reader #youtube #youtuber x reader #youtuber!reader #wroetoshaw #miniminter #ksi #zerkaa #tobjizzle #behzinga #sidemen imagine #sidemen #eden's 2k tea party 💞

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pettyartist · 4 months

Text

Been reading more fic again recently and I realized some of my favorite fics have the dumbest premises and I love them for it. Honestly, they're half the reason I clicked the link for the fic in the first place.

And like, sure, some of these make no logical sense or have easy solutions that irl you'd fix them but where's the fun in that?

There was only one bed? -slaps your smartphone out of your hand- stop looking for an airbnb.

They eat a fruit that causes them to blurt out their innermost secrets and they don't know if the other actually heard or remembers what they said? I don't care that this plant doesn't exist, it does for the purposes of this story.

They are in a competition to see if they can woo someone before someone else can but, no, they don't have feelings for them really nope never it's definitely just to see if they can do it? -plugs my ears- I can't hear you telling me how silly it is.

Main characters are handcuffed together for a whole week? Shh, put down the bolt cutters this is funny I wanna see where it goes.

Moral of the story is, don't let your logical side tell you that your writing prompt is silly or that it needs to make sense or be logical-- Live cringe die free have a happy reader in me

#fanfic #fic #To all the writers out there who wanna write goofy stories that make no sense I gotchu #I am in your corner pumping you up and giving you the most powerful gatorade #go beat up that logical brain

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celluloidbroomcloset · 5 months

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(Final part, I swear. Others are here, in order: Part I, Part II, Part III.)

Izzy only rarely interacts with Ed after the murder, and there's good reason for that. They ultimately cannot exist in the same space; there is too much underlying toxicity, too much co-dependence, and too much physical and emotional pain. But Izzy does interact with Stede, in ways that would have been impossible in Season 1.

Like the crew, Stede is the one to make overtures, and I do agree with other commenters that his attention to Izzy, while not condescending, is more about Izzy's needs than his own. Their first major interaction post-Ed's resurrection is when Stede tells him that "Blackbeard said you taught him everything he knows." We know that Stede doesn't call Ed "Blackbeard," but that Izzy has previously been adamant that he "serves Blackbeard." Just as he does with the rest of the crew, Stede wants to draw Izzy out by meeting where he needs to be met. Izzy isn't going to respond to Stede saying that he finds value in Izzy's skills, but he will respond to the idea that Blackbeard has said they're valuable.

Stede's entire ethos, as I remarked, is about supporting others for who they are and who they want to be, not about putting them into a category that he, or anyone else, defines. Izzy is going to be Izzy, and Stede shows that he values Izzy's abilities - all the things, in fact, that make him who he is, now that he has started to shed the toxic masculinity that shrouded him. Stede looks to Izzy for approval in firing a gun and using a sword, he proudly notes that he "did a punch!" These are of value to Stede too - they are enabling him to become more of the man that he wants to be, for himself and for Ed. (There's a lot to be said about Stede's morphing relationship to his own masculinity, but in Season 2 he's fully integrating elements of piracy with his own softness and gentleness, not remaining static but also not trying to become someone he isn't, at least until "Man on Fire.")

Stede's tacit acceptance of Izzy as a member of the crew, in a way that he was never a member in Season 1, is part of what helps Izzy open up more. He's able to spend time with Stede outside of Ed. He stops seeing Stede's fluid and softer masculinity as shameful and begins to see it as positive and even powerful, something that makes Ed happy and that Izzy himself could actually learn from.

Izzy has lived for Ed to the exclusion of all other people, including himself, and that kind of co-dependence is always going to become toxic. It should be noted that Stede himself is not living for Ed; his existence is not about reinforcing Ed's identity or Ed's desires, he does not define himself based on Ed (honestly, there's a whole developmental arc with that going on too, but I'm not going into that here). Izzy has done exactly that, and it has harmed them both - it is a toxic relationship because Izzy quite literally can't exist outside of Blackbeard, as he himself admits in his final scene.

Izzy's final and most meaningful externalization of his identity, independent of Ed, is Calypso's birthday. Again, it should be noted that a good bit of this arc involves "acceptable" external presentations of masculinity. If Stede's outward presentation was repellent to Izzy in Season 1, he's beginning to see its value in Season 2 - Stede has survived, he's crafted a family for himself out of love and acceptance, he's found love with a man he cares for. Ed himself, Izzy's admitted "other half," has found safety and healing in Stede and in the entire ethos of the Revenge, which has now twice saved his life. Toxic masculinity is a threat to health and survival.

Izzy admits to being curious about Wee John is doing when he's dressing as Calypso, prompting Wee John to go into his discussion of a "look." I do think it's important that this discussion has nothing to do with Ed or how Izzy wants to look to Ed himself. It's about Izzy slowly discovering the options he has for self-presentation, irrespective of his sexual identity, and asking for help in doing so from another queer man.

Izzy's drag look allows him to integrate his queerness, and the softer masculine ideal presented initially by Stede and embodied by the rest of the crew, with the rest of his persona. He still wears his regular outfit, with some accents including a flower, but Wee John has done his makeup, including eyeliner, blush, and lipstick. Izzy embraces this externalization of his masculinity and his queerness, and just as importantly, it is embraced by the crew. No one laughs at him or mocks him. His moment of discomfort at his entrance soon gives way to joy. Stede starts smiling, Fang applauds, and Ed raises his glass. The crew dances; Stede and Ed are even about to, as the song crescendos and Izzy lets go of his toxicity. It is a moment of release; Izzy smiles, he laughs, he becomes the center of attention not just of one man but of an entire group of people who have embraced him and helped him to become "the new unicorn." Izzy's masculinity is not in question; he can wear makeup if he wants to, he can dress as he wants to, he can sing if he wants to, and he will not be judged, shamed, or rejected. It does not make him less of a man.

It is important as well that this episode leads into Stede and Ed's first time having sex, and that this scene occurs in tandem with Izzy singing "La Vie en Rose." Izzy, who in "Art of Fuckery" is so horrified at the idea of Ed being penetrated by a foppish man, provides the soundtrack for their love. He'll later joke about it, both in the morning after and with Ed at the Republic of Pirates: "You know what I did this morning, bright and early?" "Made your boyfriend blush?" No longer are words like "boyfriend" to be spat out with venom, and no longer is penetration violent, denigrating, or shameful ("It's good to see that it's not only the ship that has been well and truly...docked."). He encourages Ed to let go of his leathers, if it makes him happy, much as Izzy himself let go of his toxicity. Izzy has also stops basing his existence on Ed's. He empathizes with Stede, admitting that he now understands why their relationship works and that it is worth fighting for.

In the end, it is a remarkable arc, treated with sensitivity and complexity, that neither excuses Izzy nor shames him. He does need someone to live for and die for, but it can't be a single person - it is really about piracy itself, for the crew to live on, for the spirit to survive against all odds. Izzy is still a pirate; it is still integral to his identity and it's the reason why his death, while not unavoidable, is a natural outcome for his character. His life has been about piracy, and he finds his acceptance in the love of the crew. Where Prince Ricky wants Izzy to turn on them, Izzy proclaims that he'll happily die for them. They might outlive Izzy's body, but he ensures that their - and his - spirit will "last throughout your entire fucking empire."

#gif #ofmd season 2 #ofmd #izzy hands #stede bonnet #edward teach #toxic masculinity #ofmd crew #our flag means death #ofmd meta #i'm tagging izzy because dang it his character does not belong to the handful of people who want to be hateful #i gotta organize these posts but i kinda thought this was literally going to be one post #happy for any discussion or disagreement as long as it's polite

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