Title: The Miskatonic Project Rating: PG-13 for horror themes, death Summary: Abraham Erskine may have invented something new with the Serum – or maybe he re-created something very old. Something…Elder. Notes: I should be working on like three other fanfics but I had a TERRIBLE DREAM this afternoon and anyway this only took about half an hour to write.
Steve came out of the Vita-Ray machine…different.
Of course he looked different – taller, thickly muscled, skin gleaming. But it wasn’t the change in his appearance so much as the…sensation people felt around him. Howard claimed not to feel it, and Erskine died before he could weigh in. Peggy felt it, but not in the way others did. To her, he seemed otherworldly, but like an angel or a religious vision – comforting under a layer of unreality. She even liked the strange black pupils he’d developed, so big and dark you could hardly see the whites of his eyes at all.
She didn’t see him pull the Hydra agent out of the submarine after Erskine’s assassination. Only three people did – a cab driver, a little boy, and the boy’s mother. The cab driver wouldn’t say a word, and the boy’s mother stuttered and stammered so badly they finally gave up. The little boy just said, “Well, he got him,” and looked admiringly at Steve.
Steve wasn’t wet, but the submarine lay on the deck of the pier, and the man next to it was dead, a rictus of horror on his face.
liverpepper twins!! i get a lot of messages asking ‘how close do you think the twins actually are’ and IMO!! THEY ARE VERY CLOSE!! AND LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH!!! so i drew them at age 13 when roxas still had brown hair hehe
“Don’t talk,” Danny warns, barely audible over the furious crowd. “27′s stick fucked up your face real nice.”
That is not what he wants to hear, not even close. Eric shakes off a glove and brings it to his mouth, poking at the aching, bloody place where his mouth guard, and his front teeth used to be. He glides to the bench and shoves Lenny out of the way so their trainer, Mason, can assess the damage. Eric’s vision isn’t blurry and It’s not a concussion he’s worried about.
“..ook ‘ike a ‘ick?” Eric asks around his swollen, clumsy tongue. When Carter snickers ‘yes’, Eric holds up three fingers, their not-so-covert way of avoiding the obscene gesture fine.
Coach leans in to inspect the damage. “Can he play?
“You look like a hockey player, son.” Mason chides. “Tilt your head back.” Eric obeys but keeps his good eye on 27, already sliding into the Avs penalty box. “Doesn’t look like his jaw is broken, just lost a few teeth. He’s fine.”
So much for ‘no surgery in the off-season’, he’s going to need implants like Jack.
Oh, fuck, Jack.
“K’ll the ‘uckers on the p’werpay,” Eric orders around his swollen tongue, “and f’nd my teeff!”
Danny, Eric’s wonderful, sweet, long-suffering rookie, nods emphatically before sending the orders down the bench.
“Your man’s gonna be thrilled, lose any more teeth and you can –” Carter makes a crude gesture with his fist “– wait, does he have fake teeth, too? You guys are going to have so much fun-”
“Gett’n m’re th’n you.” Eric chirps, shaking loose of Mason’s prodding fingers to drop his head and spit a mouthful of blood onto the floor.
“Good, keep spitting, don’t swallow the blood.” Mason chides, applying a butterfly bandage with one hand and aiming a water bottle with the other. “C’mon, swish and spit. Let me see what we’re working with.”
Carter snickers. “Yeah, Bittle, don’t swallow.”
This time Eric spits the pink water all over Carter’s skates.
so i got this idea that derry was the upside down of hawinks and someone told me to write it, so here i am.
however, my wonderful co-writer and beta @richiewheeler helped me out A TON and she’s gonna be helping me write this whole fic so pls give her some love as well pls and thx
i hope you guys like it! we are SUPER DUPER proud of it
without further ado, here is my stranger things/it crossover
summary: a stranger things/it crossover fic
pairings: reddie def, and lots of others to be determined
Will Byers always had to ride his bike home at night, it seemed. Mike’s Dungeons and Dragons games managed to always run way longer than the group had anticipated, usually, 10 hours was a normal time frame for them. School nights always ruined the flow of it, sure, but Will’s team always won. Sometimes he wondered if Mike let them win, or, perhaps, it was just luck.
His older brother Jonathan was working a late shift, as was their mother, which was a common occurrence. He didn’t mind riding his bike so late, he’d gotten used to it. Nothing happened in Hawkins, so it was almost therapeutic. The sound of his bike wheels thumping against the pavement and crickets that chirped in the darkness.
Mirkwood, a street so familiar to him he could almost see it just as he would in the day, stretched in front of him. Since it was only a fall Sunday, there was no one there. He hummed to himself and looked through the woods of Hawkins Forest. He’s almost home.
Will looked back at the road, and saw a tall figure standing right in the middle of the street. Yelping, he slammed on his breaks, nearly falling off the front of his bike as he skids to a stop.
It was a clown, with wild red hair and a pristine costume. If it were Halloween, Will would’ve been impressed. But the autumn holiday was last month and this didn’t seem like a costume. It was too real as if the face paint wasn’t actually paint at all.
“Hey there, Will. Where are you off to?” The clown spoke, his words causing Will to physically shiver in fear.
His mother’s warnings of don’t talk to strangers rattled in his head, so he just swallowed and wanted to leave it there. But he had to know.
“How did you know my name?” Will asked, his voice sounding scared to his own ears. He wished he could be stronger about it, but he wasn’t.
“I’m a friend of your dad’s,” The clown said. “He tells me all about you, Will.”
He hated the way this guy said his name, and he knew his dad didn’t say many positive things about him. He changed the subject, “Why the clown outfit?” “Well, I’m Pennywise the Dancing Clown,” The Clown- Pennywise- said, grinning. In the light of the moon, his eyes shined bright and his teeth looked so sharp. “I was just at a party, and I thought I’d take Mirkwood home.”
Will smiled awkwardly a little, “We call this street Mirkwood too.” He didn’t know why he continued to talk to strange man in a clown costume. He almost felt compelled to stay.
“I know,” Pennywise said. Something in Will’s stomach twisted and his fingers clutched the handles of his bike until his knuckles went white.
“My mom’s expecting me home,” Will started to excuse himself, but Pennywise frowned. That frown sent a wave of discomfort through his small frame. A frown like that wasn’t normal. It was far too sinister, too off to be ordinary. The clown tilted his head a bit, his hair staying in the perfect “windblown” shape it had been in. That wasn’t normal either. His eyes, Will noticed, were a bright orange color. Number three on the ‘not normal’ list about this guy. One was lopsided as if he had a lazy eye. One concentrated on Will’s figure, the other looming off slightly to the right of him. Number four, check.
“Let me show you something first.” The clown spoke slowly as if he was trying to be friendlier, more convincing. Will felt as if he didn’t have much of a choice. The man blocked his way regardless, so he stayed put and kept his mouth shut.
The clown smiled once more. His face suddenly contorted, his head snapping to the side violently at a 90-degree angle. That’s when Will realized it was no longer a person. This thing wasn’t human, it never was, to begin with. Will watched in horror as this thing transformed into a large-scale version of the Demogorgon, one of the many pieces in Mike’s Dungeons and Dragons campaign from today. He was terrified, slowly backing up with his bike in a vain attempt to separate himself from this monster as much as he could. Will glanced around him quickly, seeing if he had a possible escape route. He didn’t.
When he glanced back at the monster, it started to advance. With no choice, Will threw his bike down and ran down the street, the thumps growing louder behind him. The last thing he heard was his own terrified scream before he hit the pavement and his vision clouded black.
In a town closer than they thought, Georgie Denbrough bounced beside his brother, Bill, as he made a paper sailboat as a storm crossed through Derry.
This was a tradition they had when it rained, seeing how fast one boat could go in the pouring rain. Georgie liked that even though Bill was sick, he was still gonna let him play. It wouldn’t be the same without him, but they both agreed that tradition was important. They couldn’t miss an opportunity.
“S-she’s all ready, Captain,” Bill said, coughing a little. Georgie nodded vibrantly and took the boat in his hands. Slightly sticky to the touch, he knew how much work his big brother put into it and made sure he handled ‘her’ carefully.
“D-don’t forget your g-galoshes,” Bill reminded as Georgie nearly raced out the door. “M-mom will k-kill you.”
Georgie made a face but nodded once more. When he ran down the stairs to the mudroom, he pulled on the dark green boots that chafed against his ankles.
He ran outside and Georgie turned, waving up to Bill’s window, showing off how well the boat was maintaining its structure in the downpour. Bill waved back at him, so he took that as his signal to start his boat’s journey. The static hum of the walkie-talkie in Georgie’s pocket made him smile, knowing Bill was sorta there with him.
“Be careful.” His brother’s voice crackled and Georgie was off. He placed the boat down near the street curb, watching with glee as it raced down the road following the direction of the water flow.
He tried being careful, he really did, but it was too easy for him to get distracted. Georgie wasn’t too surprised when he smacked into the orange sign, coincidentally at the perfect height to hit his head on. He didn’t want to lose the boat so he tried to keep up, but he cried out in horror as it fell down the sewer drain.
“Bill’s gonna kill me,” He moaned, disappointed in himself. He kneeled down and tried to see if it had caught on something. But instead of seeing the boat, he saw a kid.
Georgie yelped and fell backward, landing on his butt. Even to a little kid like himself, it was a little odd to see someone in a storm drain. The kid in the drain smiled meekly, holding up Georgie’s boat. He had brown hair, that was wet and flat due to the rain. His outfit consisted of a vest with a flannel underneath and a pair of jeans from what Georgie could see, but it was dark in the drain.
“Hey, Georgie, is it?” He asked, looking down at the paper boat. A drop of water landed on the ‘S. S. Georgie’ Bill had written on it, smearing the ink a bit.
Georgie nodded slowly, a little thrown off by his question but answered anyway. “Yeah, that’s me!”
The kid smiled. “Hey, I’m Will Byers. Nice to meet you.”
Georgie smiled back at him. “How did you get in there?” He asked, “Are you stuck?”
Will nodded solemnly, before his expression changed. If people got lightbulbs over their heads like in the cartoons, there would’ve been one above Will’s head. “If you help me out, I can give you your boat back! How does that sound? You can help a new pal out.”
The small Denbrough contemplated it for a second, before agreeing.
Will grinned. “Grab my hand.” He spoke, reaching his hand upwards towards the opening in the drain.
As Georgie reached down, Will’s face changed drastically. It contorted into something sinister, multiple rows of teeth baring in a mere instant.
His scream of agony could be heard all the way down the road but by the time anyone had checked, Georgie Denbrough was gone. The only evidence of that he was ever there was red water slowly flowing into the storm drain.
But no adult nearby saw it.
Will woke up with what he thought was the start of a migraine after the worst nightmare he’d ever experienced. A goddamn clown accosted him when he was just trying to get home. He just wanted to eat Jonathan’s breakfast and see his friends at school. He wanted to hug his mom and have her tell him the nightmare clown couldn’t get to him again until he believed her.
But instead of smelling pancakes and nearly burnt eggs, all it smelled like was like stagnant water and blood.
Will’s eyes snapped open, and all he saw was gray. He pushed up onto his palms and looked around.
He wasn’t in his room, safe in his bed under the covers and dry. Instead, he was in a wide, circular room covered in trash, soaking wet. How long was he asleep? Did he get knocked out?
Something dripped on his shoulder, and he looked up to see a trash pile that nearly skirted the tall ceiling. But more astonishingly, bodies floated. They floated around the room like limp rag dolls that Mike’s sister Holly played with. And they were all upside down.
A sound of squelching caused Will to look to his right, only to come face to face with the same clown that he saw on the street.
As if it wasn’t terrifying before, its clown face was now smothered in blood. It grinned, and the crimson-stained teeth looked even sharper than he remembered.
In its long, twisted fingers, it held an arm with a chunk taken out of it. In that quick glance, he could see blood and muscles and bone.
Will screamed and scrambled backward, a sharp pain in his side as his heart nearly beat out of his chest. How was this real? How was none of that a dream?
No. This is still a dream. This isn’t real, Will focused on convincing himself. He scrunched his eyes shut and dug his nails into his palms.
“Not real, Willie?” The clown’s scratchy voice said, sounding so close. But he refused to open his eyes. “Do you want to see a dream?”
He screamed and his eyes flung open. The clown grabbed him by the throat and leaned in close. Its breath was rancid like the trash that littered around them. It drooled blood and saliva all over him as he squirmed in a vain attempt to escape the clown’s death grip on him.
“I’ll show you a goddamn nightmare.”
i hope you guys liked that as we’d love to write a part dos
Imagine: Graves falling for you despite his original annoyance with you.
“Another screw up?” He asked, irritation clear in his tone. He didn’t understand what you were doing even working at MACUSA, week by week it was just another mistake of yours that slowed his work process down.
“Yes sir…” You dropped your head down, not wanting to meet his disappointed gaze. You admired Mr. Graves so much, he was the best of the best, and yet no matter how hard you tried nothing ever seemed to go your way.
The director tossed the folder of paperwork onto his desk, rubbing at his temples as he tried to figure out a way to correct the mistakes. The paperwork would take forever to go through now.
“Do you like your job, Ms, Y/N?”
You glanced up, eyes a bit wide at his sudden question. But, the beat of your picked up its pace and you worried so for your future here.
“I-I do, sir. Very much.”
He leaned back in his chair, kicking his boots up on the desk as he stared you down. “Then I suggest you start lessening your incessant need to make mistakes.”
The threat was evident on his voice, and you felt much like a child being scolded by a parent. This was torture, and you felt the beginnings of tears in your eyes.
“I promise to try harder, sir. I’m so sorry.” You bowed a bit, trying to show some respect before you moved to leave his office.
He watched you go, dark eyes following every movement as he thought deeply to himself. You were a constant headache for him, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty over the dejected state you were in.
You rushed down the halls of the large building, apologizing to the other aurors as you bumped into them. You had just finished up all your reports and you were eager to hand them to Mr. Graves yourself. You had looked over every little detail, and even asked your friend for help to make sure nothing was missing. Hopefully, he’d be congratulating you this time…
You opened the door to his office, smiling widely until you saw Madame Picquery standing there, stern look on her face. Just your luck that he would be having a meeting with the president.
“I-….” You blushed deeply in embarrassment, suddenly feeling very small.
Graves raised his eyebrow at you, letting out a sigh as he apologized to the president. She just waved him off, giving you a small smile before excusing herself. You watched her go, swallowing the nervous lump that had developed in your throat.
“I sincerely hope you have a good reason to be barging into my office without a knock.” He warned, taking a seat as he picked up his pen and began writing down some information.
“Out with it…” He grew annoyed, tilting his head towards you in frustration.
“I finished my reports, sir. I just wanted to deliver them to you…”
He seemed slightly impressed by that, and he held his hand out for you to hand him the folders. He opened them up, clasping his hands together and resting his chin atop them as he read over your work. He had to admit, these were far more detailed than your last ones, and as far as any errors went he could find none. He closed the folder, not even glancing up at you as he continued his own work.
As far as compliments from the director went, this was probably as good as it got, and you would take that. You smiled brightly, clapping your hands cheerfully as you thanked him for his time.
“Thank you, sir! I promise not to let you down again!”
You turned on your heel, and as you moved to open his office door you tripped over the trash can, barely catching yourself on the doorframe. The bang of the metal drum rang loudly through the halls and his office, making him look up at you.
You stood silently against the door, eyes screwed shut in disbelief of your clumsiness. You finally got a moment to shine, and then this. How perfect, you thought. With a sigh, you mumbled an apology and slowly walked out of the room after putting his trash can back.
Unbeknownst to you though, Graves had watched the whole thing with a small grin on his face that he hid behind his hands.
Percival strode down the hallway, briefcase in hand as he headed towards his office, he was beyond exhausted. The last few nights trying to deal with an investigation had finally taken a toll on him, and all he wanted was to finish up his reports and head home. He turned the corner, stopping when he saw you walking into his office with a pile of papers. They were no doubt more paperwork on the case from the other aurors. With a heavy sigh he continued on, stopping in his tracks when he found you halfway under his desk. You were scrambling around, cursing to yourself about something he couldn’t quite hear.
“What are you doing?”
You squeaked in surprise, instinctively jumping back only to hit your head hard against his wooden desk.
You held your sore head in your hands, trying hard not to cry at the pain.
“I was just…”
Truth is, you managed to drop all his folders when you came in. And your luck would have it that he showed up just now.
Graves looked down at the floor, gritting his teeth when he saw all the papers scattered about. He would’ve yelled just then, completely done with all the issues of this week, but when you looked up at him, cheeks stained red, and eyes looking as innocent as ever…he didn’t have it in him anymore.
He placed his briefcase on the desk, kneeling down next to you as he started to reach for the papers. You quickly started doing the same, trying to stop him from helping.
“Oh no, Sir! Please let me, it was my fault after all!”
As you went to retrieve one, your hands brushed, and you both froze. His fingers hovered just above your hand, yet the heat of his palm was still felt. Just then your heart skipped a beat, blood rushing to your face even more now and all you could do was stare down at your hands in wonder.
Graves looked up at you, his expressive eyes staring straight into your soul and making you fidget nervously. You should’ve moved, but his gaze held you in place.
He let his fingers trial softly over the back of your hand, sending a shock of electricity throughout both your bodies that even caught him by surprise. He held his breath for only a second, before he let his fingers slide off your hand and he grabbed the paper.
“Go get us some coffee. I’ll pick this up.”
You were somewhat at a loss for words, your heart was still beating madly in your chest and you stared up at him with a shocked look.
You nodded quickly and ran out of his office.
Graves chuckled softly at your words, taking a sip from his mug as he spoke.
“What kind of American doesn’t like coffee?”
You smiled sheepishly, organizing the papers in his filing cabinet. The past few weeks had been spent like this, and your boss slowly began to warm up to your presence. Ever since that brush of skin things had been different. Though he still made you nervous.
“I suppose that is un-American of me.”
Graves watched you closely, eyeing you over the rim of his coffee mug as you leaned forward to put a paper away. He wasn’t sure how this happened, or even where it began. Somehow you worked your way into his very heart and it drove him endlessly mad. He was always far too busy in his career to even pursue romantic relationships. The furthest he’d go is taking a woman home and that’d be the end of that. Yet, you made him stop that all together. Perhaps it was the one night he shared with another coworker, only to look down and see your face moaning in pleasure beneath him. Whatever the case, he couldn’t bring himself to let you go. That’s why he invited you here so often, of course he never stated that though. He wasn’t sure how to further this…whatever it was.
Perhaps it was your clumsy nature that made him like you, it was rather endearing at times. You always got this embarrassed wide eyed look that made it hard not to smile at. Or maybe it was your eagerness to please him. You were simply cute, a breath of fresh air amongst the stern women he worked around.
He looked you over, running a hand through his slicked back hair as he took in every detail. From the way you hummed peacefully to yourself, to the way you bit your lip in thought. It was all so tempting a sight, and he’d be damned if any other man took that from him.
“Mr. Abernathy, that’s very kind of you but I’m not-”
“Oh come on, just one date?”
Your supervisor smiled at you, leaning over the front desk as he tried his hardest to convince you. But, you weren’t interested in him one bit, you knew his reputation around here after all.
“Abernathy, shouldn’t you be off supervising the wand permits?”
Graves leaned against the counter, glaring at the shorter man. Abernathy, ever fearful of the director, nodded quickly and rushed off down the hall, nervously looking back at you both.
You sighed in relief, giving Percival a grateful smile. “Thank you. He’s a very persistent man.”
“He’s a rat.”
You giggled at that, getting up from your chair as Graves motioned for you to follow him. The wall to his office was rather silent, and you kept stealing glances his way in wonder. You hoped you hadn’t done something wrong.
“Percival is fine.”
A smile made its way onto your face, and you nodded happily at that. “Percival…is everything okay?”
He ignored that, and as soon as he stepped into the office with you he shut his door, grabbing your arm and pushing you against the wall. The papers you held flew everywhere, and you gasped as his lips descended onto yours.
Your hands flailed around for a second, trying to comprehend what was happening. But, the warmth of his mouth on yours made you melt into the kiss, and you slowly let your eyes flutter closed.
Graves held you firmly against him and the wall, his hands trailing down your sides and resting on your waist. He had waited far too long to do this, and as your superior he should’ve thought it through a little more but right now he didn’t care. He pulled away, his warm breath brushing across your cheek as he spoke.
BTS Reaction to having a girlfriend that never gets mad
Hello! I love your bts reactions and was wondering if you could please do a reaction to their girlfriend never being mad or upset (like they dont get angry easily and even when they should they still remain pretty calm)? Thank you❤️
Thank you for requesting ♥
Jungkook: Being the makeup artist for Bangtan you always worked on Jungkook most of the time since he would request you. Being his girlfriend and his makeup artist, you really could never decline working on im because this was your job. So when you two would have an argument this would be his way to talk to you.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“You dont seem upset, I know what I said wasn’t-”
“Jungkook, really. I’m not mad, please stop asking.”
He’d just look at you while you did his makeup and wonder why you weren’t more upset with him because if the tables were turned he knew he wouldn’t be as unphased as you were.
Taehyung: He’d be worried when seeing the blank look on your face. He’d worry why you weren’t more upset with what happened. He’d wonder why you weren’t more upset with what the fan had just said to you but it seemed to him that you just had the words roll off of your shoulder, he wouldn’t say anything but worry that you were just bottling up all of your emotions.
Jimin: Jimin would be walking next to you talking. He’s been wanting to talk to you for a while now ever since he saw you reply to a rude tweet on twitter.
“So..” He would start and you would just look at him quizzically. “Are you okay? I saw the tweet..”
“Oh it’s nothing, just some stupid girl.” You waved it off as if it was nothing, no hint of agitation or frustration on your face. “(Y/N), are you sure? What they said was pretty rude.”
“I’m sure.” You dismissed and continued walking with Jimin, he would let the questions in his mind go but couldn’t help but look back over to see the same look on your face.
Jhope: Hoseok would be happy that you didn’t get upset at a lot of things, he’d smile knowing you weren’t someone that let every little word someone else had said to you hurt you in any way.
Rap Monster: He’d roll over in bed looking at you, “(Y/N)…”
“Hm?” You’d reply looking up at the ceiling. “Are you still mad at me?”
“I’m not mad Namjoon.”
“Are you sure? Because-” Immediately you turned to look at him, resting on your elbow looking down at him. “I’m not mad, really i’m not.”
He wouldn’t believe you but let it go for the sake of not arguing with you again.
Yoongi: He’d just be looking at you as he brushed his teeth. You two hadn’t really talked since the night before when you two argued but he couldn’t decipher if you were mad or not. You always had a solemn look on your face so you just laying in bed on your phone confused Yoongi if anything. You wouldn’t even glance at him which only had him to assume you were mad when really you were just stubborn and wasn’t going to speak to him first.
Jin: He’d believe you when you said you weren’t mad at what Jungkook had said, he’d understand that Jungkook was young and was the maknae so what he said wasn’t meant to hurt your feelings. Jin would smile seeing that you weren’t upset at the maknae’s words and would carry on the day as if nothing was wrong.