#anyway god damn it marina i really really want to like you even as a person with dubious morals

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

i love how these books just yeet the mask like a frisbee and say about as explicitly as they can that vatborn aren't people lmao

#lorien legacies #LL tag #LL crit tag #the crit files #LL vatborn #LL mogadorians #LL marina #dehumanization cw #i don't even know what the hell to tag this as lmao #stares into the distance and takes a long drink #smoking is not enough we need ben affleck ripping a bong the size of a dodgeball #fcking Ugh #anyway protect the vatborn. somebody care about them for the love of god please #even more 🙃 in the context of a line from the entity that made me stop and squint #not a /direct/ statement but.... boy those implications sure do smack of some things #anyway god damn it marina i really really want to like you even as a person with dubious morals #who is coping poorly with her trauma and aware of that; and knows that that's not fair to people around her; even Bad Ones #but wow kid you are making it more and more difficult #ffs

[waitmyturtles]

A few more thoughts on Moonlight Chicken episode 6 that I didn’t fit into yesterday’s meta -- there is so much to process, and my kids were losing their damn minds when I was writing last night (when you say the words “pizza for dinner” around little kids, it’s like this emotional earthquake, good LORD lol).

ANYWAY (ha), I’m numbering from yesterday’s post:

7) I’m only following the rules and responding to the tags of my big-brained homeslice @respectthepetty to say the following:

Pattaya being a home for some and an escape for others. So, I want to get personal for a sec. Whenever I go back to SE Asia to see fam and travel around -- there is always such a strong desire from my fam for me to stay longer. They’re like, “a month isn’t even long enough to really get to know here, you have to stay for six months.” 

And I’m like, oh my god, I wish, but also -- back even before I had kids, it just felt inherently like an impossibility. Like -- how can I explain it -- when I was younger, it felt unreal to think that I could live my whole life in a place other than the States. I wasn’t conditioned in my mind during those times I visited as a child and as a single woman to consider living there. SE Asia to me, as a child and as an adult, felt like an other place, certainly another home where I had family, but not my home, where I lived my life as how I thought about and defined it, as the one place of my life where I could understand and track my growth as a human. (I know that MANY PEOPLE are not like this and can move at a moment’s notice -- but I think my immediate family had conditioned me back then to always stay close to them.)

It makes me think: when does a place stop feeling like an escape and maybe start feeling like a home? Again, as I said yesterday, I was really moved by Wen’s saying to Jim, “Do you take this place to be your home?”

7a) And I didn’t spend enough time yesterday sitting with the conversation between Jim and Wen about love and the sense of home you get from love, which I want to sit with for a second before I tie this back to Pattaya and escape/home. 

We know now that Jim had/has MAJOR TRUST ISSUES, besides the guilt of letting Beam get on that ferry. And he totally smells the dramaahhh that kinda follows Wen around (like, it’s not all Wen’s fault, but like, guy’s got a drama scent trail). So Jim sees the drama and is like -- I’m just not sure about being able to cross the line with this guy.

But Wen’s showing up for Jim. He’s there-there. He’s making a delicious breakfast. He’s falling asleep on Jim’s lap. He’s feeding Jimbo. He goes to temple with Jim (which we know is something that Wen would otherwise pooh-pooh). He enables Jim to reach closure re: Beam. He goes with Jim to meet Khwan. He sits with Jim to process the Khwan meeting. And, finally, Jim is moved to hold Wen, to hold his hand, and to be with him on New Year’s. 

Wen’s showing up because....Wen is becoming Jim’s home.

7b) Now: does Jim = Pattaya? Wen moved to Pattaya to be away from Bangkok. Wen’s parents even called him a survivor for it. 

I take that to mean (oh, my aching heart): you were brave enough to leave your home and find a new home.

Wen even tells Jim/us, I came to Pattaya for the job opportunity. But what does it take to make a place a home? I think it takes -- not just the love that Wen talks about with Jim in the beginning of the episode. I think it takes some damn work to show up to the place that you love. This might be a stretch, but what I think is happening in this episode is two-fold: while Jim is beginning to make Wen his new home and his new love, I think Wen is also setting himself up to allow Pattaya to be HIS home. 

Wen’s been breaking under the guilt of the Marina project. But it’s Wen who’s also throwing himself into Pattaya -- showing up drunk to the khao man gai joint, going to temple with Jim, running outside, being a cute uncle for Li Ming. He himself is also ingratiating himself into Pattaya’s culture and allowing himself to get wrapped up in it. He is also doing the work of making Pattaya his home. All of this, as opposed to Beam, who escaped Pattaya to live his double life.

I think what’s happening here is an essential connection that I don’t want to separate or unwind. I think, to Wen, Pattaya means Jim and Jim means Pattaya. I think that’s really similar, likely, to the way Beam thought about Jim -- except that Beam didn’t attach PERMANENCE to HIS definition of home. And maybe Jim’s sniffing around and making sure the same paradigm doesn’t happen twice. 

But -- Wen’s not escaping on the weekends. Man’s showing up every chance he gets to show Jim his (Wen’s) love. And I think what happened on the beach with Jim and Wen in the end is that Jim saw what he needed to see from Wen and was convinced that Wen was a risk worth chancing his love on.

I’m so glad I got a chance to talk more about Jim and Wen, because I think they were the absolute center of this episode.

8) One more response to @respectthepetty‘s tags -- oh YES, my HEAVENS, that kid HAS TO BE BEAM’S, RIGHT? Khwan, gurl. Side-eyes. We need to know more!

9) Thanks to @colourme-feral for the expanded explanation of “typical Chinese families”! We vibin’. I ESPECIALLY appreciate the point about pairings being arranged between individuals of similar means/socioeconomic backgrounds. Besides Beam’s relationship with Jim being a queer one, there’s also the fact that Jim would have been prejudiced against (likely by Beam’s family) as a stall owner -- possibly something that Beam couldn’t have taken in his other life. (Beam, smdh.)

10) Thanks to @wen-kexing-apologist and @respectthepetty for the expanded conversation and analysis on Heart’s vocalization (fam, READ THIS BLOG THREAD, it’s incredible meta!). I 100% own that my interpretation of Heart’s vocalization came from the viewpoint of having watched Silent and internalizing Sou’s incredible discomfort with vocalization for the sake of others. I think @wen-kexing-apologist has EXCELLENT points about Li Ming just being so excited to hype his mans up. 

I was also seeing other commentary on the tag about viewers wanting Heart to speak more. I can’t find this post I’m looking for, but someone wrote that (I’m paraphrasing), “Heart doesn’t owe the hearing audience his voice. He doesn’t have to vocalize for our sake.” Besides having only watched Silent, and knowing that Aof researched these issues with the deaf community and caretakers, I trust that this show is handling this issue with delicacy -- and I appreciate @wen-kexing-apologist noting that Li Ming and Heart went right back to their signing after Li Ming’s excitement. Again, I’m looking forward to seeing how it all plays out -- I wonder if Aof will have time to revisit this. (I’m going to take a WILD STAB and bet that it does come back, in some way, regarding Heart’s family and being able to communicate with them. If that shitty mom asks Heart to speak for her, oooooooo, I will be gritting my TEEF.)

11) Another point about Heart -- no pun intended, a heartbreaking one.

Like I said in my first post about episode 6, I was ready for Heart’s mom to separate Li Ming from Heart. I was ready to write a post about how Asians “save face,” and that my immediate prediction would be that Heart’s mom would separate the boys because “she knew best for her son” or some bullshit like that.

I really, inherently, expected that to happen, instead of her consenting to Li Ming to be Heart’s friend. Why?

I don’t want to overgeneralize here, but the following phenomenon is something that I’ve seen more than I like in Indian families (as I myself am Indian). I’ve seen kids become shut-ins. It’s not quite like the hikikomoris of Japan, where it seems like an extreme version of agoraphobia is prevalent.

How do I explain it. It’s a phenomenon that’s like, if your parents don’t believe in you, or are ashamed of you, or detect that something is “off” with you -- it’s OKAY to leave you in your room. It’s okay for you to hide upstairs. I wonder if parents are thinking, we’d rather you be in your room, where we know where you are, then present you to the world, and have to EXPLAIN what YOUR DEAL is. AND, as parents, we’d likely have to face JUDGEMENT for who you are (or in the case of Heart, who you’ve become). 

This phenomenon is present in the families of some of my friends. And when I talk about it with OTHER Indians, all of us Indians nod our heads and are like -- oh yeah, we’ve seen this before.

In other words.... if Li Ming hadn’t shown up -- Heart would have still been in his room. 

For how long? Forever?

And that would have been perfectly fine by Heart’s parents.

12) One last point, and then (I think), I’m done for the meta with this episode. And actually, this point is not even about this episode, but I think it’s just set up to be a kind of definitive characteristic for both Jim and Wen.

When Jim and Wen were feeding Jimbo in this episode, I remembered that Wen knew Jimbo’s name before Wen learned Jim’s name. And, a couple of days ago, I reblogged @soukana’s excellent point that Wen had been with Alan for five years, and Wen’s dad didn’t know Alan’s name. 

Couple that with what we know about Li Ming’s name, and we know there’s meta in the names (I SWEAR there was a post listing the meanings of everyone’s name, and I can’t believe I didn’t add it to my Big Themes list. I don’t think I’m going crazy, but I can’t find it, tears emoji!) (UPDATE: Thanks to @slayerkitty and @sliceduplife, the names translation list can be found here!) 

But what I love about this juxtaposition is: it’s definitive of how both Jim AND Wen see intimacy. They both behaved similarly by keeping back key details about their intimate selves, either to each other or to their close relatives, maybe so as to protect themselves.

And in episode 6, we see those walls coming down. Maybe not necessarily happily (like in the hospital) -- but on the beach, one moment of peace for these two that, I think, belong together.

#moonlight chicken #moonlight chicken meta #earthmix #earth pirapat #mix sahaphap #fourth nattawat #gemini norawit #jim x wen #wen x jim #li ming x heart #heart x li ming

[the-gasp-at-the-gateway]

Not Your Parasocial's LOA

Hot Take. Sure, it's no secret LOA girls are all about glamour, hedonism, and utter self-love (I love it too). But imo, Goddard's kinda like cheap liquor on your 21st birthday: gratifying, limitless, and confidence-boosting, for a time (so long as you keep the party going, and keep yourself from thinking too much). My man Alan Watts though—he's got fine bourbon in his cabinet, and him and his friends are the type to make sure you also drink some water. Lemme unpack that.

If you're an Old Soul, a Highly Sensitive Person, or a high-achieving kid who ever really burnt out—you know the real shadowy depths of consciousness, cause you've not only seen some real shit, but felt it. In the words of the great Queen Bee siren from Nevermore Academy: "Fire tests gold. Suffering tests a woman." And Wednesday gets it too, she knows you aren't truly you if you don't embrace the Dark; you're a normie, by the def that normies are those who are too scared to let out their nature. It's not all rainbows and Versace.

It's the Way. It's the Yin and the Yang. The two fish swimming together—Red Oni, Blue Oni. Pisces and the 12th House. Transcendence. At some point, you might find yourself growing out of just being a Princess—you're becoming a Queen. That word gets thrown around. I don't mean it in the "You Go, Girl," sense.

I mean how a Queen really does: Ascension, crown chakra, and the knowing that with cosmic power comes cosmic responsibility. Not that she's your friendly neighborhood Spiderman; a Queen knows she is her realm, and her realm is she. That's Everything Is You Pushed Out. So yeah, it's responsibility—ultimately to the You. And even if she tries to ignore it, unlike a Princess, the Queen can't. Just ask Marie.

LOA Princesses talk up Goddard, and I get it, Goddard's about getting what you Want, not what you Need. It's a real Blue Pill energy (don't @ me, the Matrix was written by trans women who understand eastern philosophical principles and also said "throw away your anti-psychotics"—how's that for being Delusional? Also, a lot of those redditors are 🥚s anyway).

But Goddard had help remembering what he knew. Alan Watts spoke on topics way beyond manifesting and self-concept (and I'll be damned if he isn't a charming and magnificent motherfucker who truly sees the whole picture—seriously, listen to him, you'll love him instantly. He's got this trans-atlantic accent and everything).

So why compare them? Well, if you're an Old Soul, and you're ascending to that crown—call it your Saturn Return or your Dark Night if you will (it's a right bitch either way)—it means, like Inanna the Sky Queen of Sumer, you might find yourself walking straight into Hell and giving up all those pretty things you Manifested with your super awesome powers, and you're not gonna know who the hell you are anymore (good). Has the Caterpillar ever asked you, Who Are You? Like, a lot? Maybe you'll tell him your name. Maybe you'll say, "God." Like Perfect Blue, maybe you'll say, "Why should I care who I Am?"

If Goddard stops being enough for you—like Siddhartha, if the palace life stops satisfying your Beast; if your Heart's bogged down by bootstrapsian toxic positivity and your Mind craves more—listen to Watts. (And, maybe go on a wild-ass bender into your own psyche like Jung did in his Red and Black books, that sounds pretty fun).

For who'd benefit to hear my Journey or w/e (or anyone who suspects sour grapes and wants credentials): I transitioned in 2010 (before it was cool), picked up a Satanic Bible where I learned "Be Your Own God," then became an absolute sex bomb succubus who'd work a whole house party and have people lining up to wrap themselves around my finger—often, I'd make them compete with each other, just for my amusement. Yeah, I stan Marina and I went Golddigger; I manifested the Space Needle into my backyard (basically), ate steak dinners and dined out on the reg, and sometimes would drop hundreds of dollars in a shopping trip just on clothes alone. My cosmetic procedures were all paid for. In the past eleven years, I've probably worked about a year's worth, tops, because I haven't needed to. I won't get into the supernatural-miracle type shit, cause that's a post of its own.

If I'd discovered Goddard back then, he'd probably have been the same amount of helpful. But I'm at a different stage rn, and the methods I've read on tumblr just haven't cut it. Maybe they haven't for you either. Hope these resources help.

#loa #neville goddard #alan watts #highly sensitive person #hsp #pisces #12th house #saturn return #dark night of the soul #inanna #perfect blue #carl jung #blog #all #2023 #the ego death disco

[nightcitytruecrime]

Episode Transcript: March 17th, 2061, Sundance Bar

It’s August 16th, 2060, in Night City, California, and it’s Jane Doe’s thirtieth birthday. Thirty is a big milestone. Especially around these parts. Not everyone makes it that far. Most of us would be content to celebrate at home, surrounded by friends and family and maybe a cake picked up from the local Oasis-mart. The more adventurous among us might go for a night on the town. If you have money, you might visit a rooftop bar in Pacifica — I’ve heard Villa Nouva is particularly nice! It’s on a high rise tall enough to get you out of a lot of the smog — if not, maybe just a local joint, or a club. Few would willingly venture into the festering bowles of the combat zone, at least not anyone sane. You’d have to be a special type of adrenaline junkie to plunge straight first into the prowling grounds of Night City’s nastiest gangs and cartels. 

But Jane Doe wasn’t. Not by a long shot. Jane Doe was a Beavervillian. She grew up in the suburbs with a white picket fence, went to NCU to study engineering, got a stable job at Rocklin Augmentics, moved up the corporate ladder until she was solidly middle management. She had probably been in the combat zone maybe five times in her whole life, if even. So it begs the question: why on earth would Jane Doe — country-club corpo kid Jane Doe — of all people, choose to spend the night of her thirtieth not at her executive zone con-apt, not a fancy Marina boardwalk strip, not even at Pacifica Playground, but in the middle of the god-damned combat zone? 

[intro song]

This minisode is brought to you by our sponsor Rent a Grizzly. Want to impress your friends and family by showing up to the function with a new, exotic pet? Want to feed your annoying mother-in-law to a wild beast? Want to temporarily up the security of your home while the lawmen are hot on your heels? With Rent a Grizzly, now you can do all of that and more, and do it affordably! Go to Rent-A-Grizzly-dot-com and check out with code SIDEOFSALT61, that’s capital S-I-D-E-O-F-S-A-L-T-6-1 for 20% off your first booking. Thank you Rent a Grizzly for making this show possible. 

Garden Patch Kids, I know you hate it when I do this, but I have to start the episode with a quick disclaimer. This case is high profile. I’m talking high high profile. And after the legal fiasco with the California Kitchen Killings last year, I’m really not looking to get sued. So, just keep in mind, all of this is alleged. I’ve also given all identifiable people and places pseudonyms, so please respect the victim’s privacy. Anyways, do as the show says, and take all of this with a grain of salt. Let’s get into it. 

If you ever find yourself in Little China, there are a few places you can go where you’re less likely to be caught in a gang war — that’s not to say you won’t be caught in a gang war, it’s Night City, but the chance is less. The Sundance Bar, as I’m going to call it, is among them. 

Sundance Bar is the go-to spot for all you corpo-rats looking to chase serious thrills without getting into serious danger. This place is the ultimate vice-den, let me tell you. It’d make even your hot alt input clutch their pearls. But this place is popular. Line out the door and around the block popular. You better be rich, famous, or smoking hot if you want to get in on a Friday night. Good thing Jane Doe’s birthday was on a Monday, so they would actually admit her. Or maybe not so good. Not so good, indeed. I want to be clear when I say this, because we’re not here to slander victims, so you all should know that Jane Doe was not a junkie. Sure, sometimes she’d microdose speed at work — but let’s be honest, who high up on the corporate ladder hasn’t — and sure, she liked to get loose sometimes, but she wasn’t a junkie. She was just your standard, fun-loving, thrill-seeking choom. Jane Doe’s friends, though? They would have called her a junkie. They were prudes. Real stick in the mud, what crawled up your ass and died, types. Someone could be drinking smash and they’d turn up their nose and scoff like bougie aristocrats. So going to Sundance with her friends was kind of a no-go. And Jane Doe wasn’t social enough to find a new crew to join her bar-hopping for a night. Especially not since she broke up with her mainline of 5 years. Our girl was going through it. 

But of course, she really wanted to go to this bar. Dead set on it, heh. We’re not entirely sure why? Some of her friends on the patch claim she wanted to meet a celebrity who frequented the place. Personally, I think she just wanted to go and get wasted in her best dress surrounded by hot people and blasting music. Whatever her motivation was, though, Jane Doe went to the bar alone. She told a few of her friends she’d be going — she wasn’t an idiot. She took the N-cart in with her nice heels and some hangover-cure in her bag. She was last seen by the CCTV walking down East Water Street in a sparkly black cocktail number at 9:13 PM. She would not come out of the bar again. A lot of people really want to know just what happened to Jane Doe inside Sundance. After all, that’s kind of the juicy part of the story, right? But in all my research, and trust me, I did a lot, I could not find a single person who had any clue what went down that night besides the usual bar affairs. In fact, I went to the place myself, scoped it out, and I was pretty unsuccessful in finding anything too strange. I did see that the mirrors in the bathroom were all two sided, but that’s not super unusual in these types of places. Anyways, point is, we have no clue what happened in that bar. 

What we do know, however, is that Jane Doe went radio silent following her 30th. Garden Patch Kids, you know when you have someone you talk to daily, and suddenly, you’re not hearing from them for a little bit? Some of you might freak out after the first day, but I’d say most of us don’t start to worry until we see that they’ve been inactive for a week or so. Stuff comes up in people’s lives, sometimes you’re just not on the phone. But the thing about Jane Doe was that she didn’t really have people she spoke with on a daily basis. Her job was cushy enough that she could live alone in her executive zone con-apt, she had just broken up with her mainline, they weren’t exactly on speaking terms, she called her family maybe once a month. It took two weeks for anyone to file a missing person’s case. How come? Jane Doe was using the PTO she’d saved up to take some time off around her birthday. It wasn’t until a few days after her vacation expired that her job got antsy enough to send their lackeys to her door and drag her into work. Only, when they got to her house, she wasn’t in it. And it’s not like it looked like she had freshened it up in preparation for some long trip. Her car was still in the driveway, she had leftovers in the almost fully-stocked fridge, her laundry hamper was packed with clothes, she still had suitcases in her closet. Rocklin reached out to her family, called every line they could, sent emails. Nothing. Nada. Poof! She disappeared. 

Her parents find out about the whole missing thing, and they obviously freak the fuck out. They file a missing persons report and they’re all up in the lawmen’s faces asking every question under the sun about how the investigation is going. At first it seems like they’re making really good progress. They find a string of text messages between Jane Doe and her mainland about a week before her disappearance. Jane wants to come over and get her designer handbags back. It’s hers, and it’s expensive, and she wants it. When her mainline tells her no, quite firmly, she calls them a bitch. It’s an ugly conversation. The cops speculate that maybe, drunk and under the influence of whatever cocktail of substances she consumed that night, she went over to her ex’s, got into a tussle, and left with a body bag in place of her Prada. 

But the issue is that Jane Doe didn’t show up on the CCTV footage leaving the place. For all they know, she’s still inside Sundance. But the lawmen, for whatever reason, they’re hung up on this whole mainline thing. They keep hounding this angle, but it becomes increasingly clear that they’re making no progress. And eventually, after a few months of this, the cops just give up. “You’re daughter’s probably dead. Deal with it.” Not their exact words, but that’s definitely what it must have sounded like to her parents. 

So her parents go to Garden-Patch and start a little awareness campaign, hoping to raise some funds to hire a private detective. They get about a couple hundred eddies into their campaign when they shut it down. That garden patch just gets deleted, out of nowhere. And suddenly, they stop posting anything about their daughter. They’re still active on their accounts, it’s not like they disappeared or anything, but it’s a strange shift. Call me a conspiracist, but I’m finding it incredibly suspicious. Especially with the fancy body-mods they started getting not even a full year later. 

Unfortunately, that’s kind of where our story ends. With minisodes like this, things can be a bit abrupt. We really don’t know what happened to Jane Doe; there are a bunch of conspiracies, of course, but I’m not here to get into those. But oh! This Sundance place. It has a bit of a reputation. Jane Doe wasn’t the only corpo-kid to get whisked away after going there, at least allegedly. The other cases are much murkier, Jane Doe’s was the only one with anything legal filed under its name, but I want to say that there are about five other missing persons cases connected to this joint? So yeah, maybe the combat zone isn’t the best place for a night on the town. Not that any of you needed a reminder of that. But yeah, salt fiends, that’s it for the day. Thanks for tuning in. I’ll catch you Sunday for the full episode. By popular demand, we’re going to be covering the most infamous bozo incidents in honor of reaching 10k followers, so make sure to tune into that! As always, stay safe out there. I’ll see you in the next one. 

[racingliners]

F1 Re-Watch 2022: Round 5 - Miami

Okay so this was one of the races where I didn’t watch C4 highlights, so the only thing I remember from this weekend was everyone roasting the fake marina, Underwear-gate, and Mick and Seb crashing at the very end of the race (😭)

So, let’s just dive in and hope I land in the water and not the plywood marina

*bops to the F1 theme*

I am a bit apprehensive for this one bc I’m terrified I’ll hate the track sdvghaerghe

I want to be open minded but, it’s v hard to get enthusiastic over what was once a carpark

Seb starting from the pits???? oof

and Lance???? Aston Martin what were you doing in Miami???

hmm. Ferrari front row. This does not give me optimism.

(sorry Charles fans, but lad did not have any luck from pole last year 😭)

Love Lewis’ neon helmet though

(should I add helmet watch to livery watch??? idk I probably will)

okay credit where credit is due the setting with all the palm trees is quite pretty

But I’m sorry the fake marina really isn’t it my dudes

So AM started from the pits bc their fuel was too cold and they had to change it???? That’s extremely wack

[Start/Lap 1]: Everyone clean into turn 1????

lol Charles said au revoir at the start

oof this is a long lap

A clean first lap???? I’m astounded.

[Lap 2]: Or maybe not Lewis was on the radio saying Fernando hit him

(what is this, 2012???)

[Lap 3]: The whiplash I got from hearing that Russell was under pressure from Alex. How tf did he start in P15?!

Teeeeeed!!

ew no I don’t want to hear from Horner

[Lap 6]: Can’t say the track is going anything for me rn. I feel like I’m watching parade laps

“It would be nice to see him [Mick] get a few points this afternoon” and then he didn’t 😭

[Lap 7]: Zhou out with a mechanical failure.

[Lap 9]: Aaaaaand Verstappen passes Charles with DRS.

(Yeah Mattia you should look dead inside that was embarrassing)

[Lap 11]: “It’s a four horse race out front” Is it though???

[Lap 15]: One quarter race distance. I’m a bit bored lads ngl.

also YIKES that on-board with Charles porpoising. 0/10 would not recommend to a friend.

[Lap 16]: Anyway Seb’s made his way up to P16 woo!

SEB SIGHTING!!!! FINALLY

aw yeah that battle with Latifi was pretty good!

passing on the inside. v sexy.

[Lap 18]: Yikes 3.5 sec gap between Verstappen and Leclerc. 

(insert “It’s a Ferrari” “It’s a shitbox” scene from Rush)

[Lap 20]: Oop Seb v Kevin? 

“I’m losing power” “No you’re not” “I’m losing power!” oof Perez is not having a fun time

Livery watch: very bored of all the matte liveries 😭 Give me shiny

[Lap 24]: “The car is so difficult to drive” Yup. Shitbox.

“Let’s go on board with Sebastian Vettel” About bloody time Crofty.

[Lap 28]: Over a five second pit stop for Sainz. Clowneria Ferrari strikes again.

[Lap 30] Don’t let Horner talk over Bono. Rude.

also thank fuck I’m past half distance. How did C4 make a highlights package from this?!

[Lap 31]: Hell yeah Seb into P13!!!

The Seb onboards are what’s making this race bearable ngl. Even if he just went down to P15.

[Lap 39]: aggressively waves blue flag

[Lap 40]: oop Nando on Gasly violence

well, it wasn’t really violence. more a heated exchange of words.

[Lap 41]: AH SHIT LANDO

Thankfully he’s okay but yikes wheels shouldn’t just come off the car like that.

“And it’s the soft tyres. Ooh la la” Is Ted okay?? Did he remember to drink during the race??

[Lap 42]: Seb with a 3.4 stop 😔

Ferrari didn’t stop Charles or Sainz. Zero braincells on the pit wall. Disappointed but not surprised.

oh god not a shot of the boats on the fake marina it’s so bad

[Lap 45]: Comms getting hyped over Mick 🥺

You’re crying. Comms think Charles has a chance to get past Verstappen on his old hards and you’re crying.

[Lap 47] YO SEB INTO P12!!!

ohhhh there was Kevin on Lance violence.

[Lap 50]: Merc on Merc fisticuffs??? 👀

oh damn maybe Charles did have a better chance than I thought.

[Lap 52]: oop Perez on Sainz violence.

[Lap 54]: Seb into P9 for all of three seconds before I assume he went into Mick 😭

BOYS WHY 😭😭😭

“You can’t be mates in Formula 1 you just can’t” idk about you Martin, maybe they were able to have a grown up convo about it.

ugh. pain.

[Lap 57/Finish]: Well I’m glad that was over.

The best part of the race was by far the post-safety car period. Not even the midfield could save how dull it had been up to that point. So... yeah. 4.5 front wings out of 10. Next up: Spain!

#that was... a motor race #F1 Liveblog #Miami Edition #F1 Re watch #F1 2022 re watch

[darkhats]

my response to that one cookie run drama video from 2019

if u were in the fandom at around 2019 you'll remember this video. really a grand hallmark of its time. this is probably the most unecessary thing ill ever do but i see alot of recent comments from a month ago agreeing with this and i think thats extremely sad. im mostly doing this as a fun nostalgia trip and also i really want to justify me wasting 14 minutes watching this

first of all i want to say this video is fucking awful. just dreadful. like girl what the fuck are you even saying. i'd only recommend watching in full if you want to hear about the fandom in 2019 with a condesending voice talking down to you the whole time and even then you could probably do better just scrolling through the discourse tag

i suggest you pull up the video yourself as i'll be responding by timestamps. if i sound angry at some points its because i am

you can skip to 1:40 the rest is just intro stuff

1:47 | im really curious why you put this screenshot while saying "entitled fans" bc u never elaborated and i would really LOVE for you to explain whatever this one meant

1:50 | for the "huge amounts of hypocrisy" bit i have no idea what this is? this would be hypocrisy if the twitter acc in the previous screenshot and this tumblr blog r the same person but theyre not. we don't all think like a hivemind? this post is stupid in general stop infantilising asian ppl like they have no idea what a black person even is

2:02 | "gatekeeping what kind of ships you're allowed to like" with this screenshot u a proshitter or sumn🤨

the rest of the things they listed will be talked about later

2:51 | oh wow the "fixing art" thing. i dont think this is a thing anymore but it definitely was a big thing back in 2019! the thing is im quite neutral on it because a lot of artists dont like their work being edited but on the other hand if you dont like when people put the correct skintones on your art then maybe you should colour it right the first time

i will say though if you see cool art of like dark choco or espresso and its whitewashed and u wanna edit it so its not and u keep it to yourself then idc thats fine to me. the grey area is when it comes to characters like moonlight or alchemist, who's skintone is quite difficult to pull off in some artstyles. a lot of the examples in the video use people like cherry blossom or cotton candy who don't quite fit in the same category but are usually targets of this anyway

a very simple fix is to just use a different colour but to not make them significantly lighter from how they look in canon, which alot of the examples you showed don't do. they all look pale as shit compared to what they actually look like ingame and thats why people complained about them

also your marina video is fucking awful btw

3:53 |

4:56 | "so many people in the fandom hate the developers" im one of them hiii. i should probably use this time to explain why (please note that this was made in 2019 so a few of the points im bringing up here will probably be a bit too recent)

devsisters really love showcasing whitewashed art of their characters (they used to do it on their forums rarely but thats now gone) and recently they've been quite excited to dabble in the whitewashing themselves (keep in mind the others except from twizzly gummy don't really count as whitewashing but they're all significantly lighter than their regular appearance). its like a hobby or sumn. everytime they host a fanart contest i brace for god damn impact. and this has been a thing since FOREVER

speaking of race and ethnicity, lilacs costume (and redesign in general) is just... bad but i dont think they were even introduced at the time of this video. milk and yam WERE though and its extremely baffling to me how this went through an entire team/company and got greenlit. its insane how shit they are (if it was just yam on his own i wouldn't hate him as much, i still wouldn't like him tbh, but they decided to pair him up with a white saviour). would i call them racist though? ...idk? they've been moving funny recently cant lie

another thing is the valentines day video which pisses me off to even think about. in that vid theres alot of.. ships that definitely arent legal. and whitewashing ^_^ they still haven't addressed it btw if ur curious. but it happened this year and honestly i wouldnt blame them for not thinking devsisters would do something like that bc i sure didnt!

theres also the thing with nfts but no one couldve foresaw that one coming

i assume when you mention people saying devsis are transphobic that you're talking about characters like dark choco or cinnamon who weren't referred by any pronouns until they were magically given he/him pronouns later on. nonbinary people can use any pronouns they so damn please but i get why people would get annoyed about them both suddenly being referred as he/him. wouldn't call it transphobic though. other than idk, how tf am i meant to defend something when u dont even telling me what ur talking abt

and 5:29 is quite the bold claim if you have to say "do i have evidence for this asian hate? no.." when bringing it up again btw

now we're onto the "stories from a few people" section. the few people are actually just two, the first one just runs their mouth for way too long. dw they both suck. ignore how the creep art person is there its been addressed already in the description (which is funny because the creator remembers this video still? and they presumingly agree with it still..?)

7:00 | i would heavily recommend putting the video on like 1.75 speed and just reading the reply yourself because this person goes on for WAY too long. excuse me if the timestamps are wrong because of this but at this point i really just do not care

the first thing i want to address is the cuphead and cookie run fandom comparison, because its just as ridiculous as it sounds "i have no idea why its so focused on being sensitive about cookies sexualities, genders, and races, when other fandoms dont even take subjects like that as seriously. im pretty sure the cuphead fandom takes its bosses less seriously than the cr fandom does its cookies..." literally what the fuck are you on about? excuse me as im not a cuphead fandom connoisseur here but how are either fandoms connected?? they both got a vastly different audience, gameplay, artstyle and characters (+ character design). the only thing similar is that theyre both popular i GUESS. also maybe the cookie run fandom is so "sensitive" about cookies races bc they keep getting whitewashed every 5 seconds🤔? just a game theory tho🤔

7:25 | pisses me off ever so fucking much. the "ive never seen a fandom get so disrespectful over issues that i honestly dont think even exist" while talking about MILK COOKIE COOKIE RUN are u crazy are u dense im glad you can frollick along in ur flowerfields not having to ever deal with racism but I cannot. and if ur not talking abt him then you'd be talking about the "sensitive about sexualities/genders/races" thing and yeah man u right none of that is real. the LGBT disappeared suddenly in 1987. all humans were destroyed as they had race. we're all grey goo people

im not even sure what the complaint even is.. oh nooo someone did a milk redesigning the controversial parts of his design... how ever will we recover..?

8:15 | yeah as everyone knows i can make a character as pale as i want in fanart as long as i say these are my humanizations actually. garbage argument, most people dont draw the characters as actual cookies and most of the fanart does just fine with eyedropping the characters original skintone (oh im sorry, dough!!) so whats the excuse?

dont worry this person is done now we're almost at the end

11:18 | for the other reply, its the fiction doesnt equal reality shit do you really need me to go over this one? do you really. if they just cookies and its just fiction then why y'all feelings hurt so bad. also lumping in whitewashing with age and gender while ur talking about peoples headcanons is a bit weird btw

anyway the last thing i want to go over is the "cookie run fandom is soo obsessed with debating on whitewashing, ages, gender and sexualities!" thing thats so prevelent with these arguments. 2019 had this fun period where with every new cookie that came out there was some sort of controversy with them (millennial tree and raspberry mousse being he/him, roll cake and sorbet shark being a child or not, ect.)

whitewashing is obvious why so i'll move on. some characters can be seen as lesbian coded (white choco and rose for having majority girl fans, sea fairy in general) and there are a few characters that explicitly aren't referred to by any pronouns (dark choco before the guild adventures, peppermint, ect.) which u dont see everyday in games. so yeah.. people care about these things because they like representation. who would've thought?

now im gonna be fucking real. the arguments over cookies ages were always annoying - the reason why the fandom has arguments about ages so much is because devsis REFUSES to tell us canon ages. think about it, majority of the "canonially confirmed" children in the game are from a child event that happened in LINE. thats a completely different company running the game. because of how character-heavy the game is, ships are a very big part of the fandom. i sincerely doubt theres anyone in the fandom who doesnt like any ship and at the time rarepairs were rly common. so when you've got a fandom who really likes to ship and developers that dont ever mention ages then you get a fucking mess. i dont know what sorbet shark or roll cakes age is and its pointless to even debate it because id rather just have the devs confirm it themselves (not like they ever will). and even for the one singular time they did specify that one of the characters was a child, they still showcased fanart of said kid being shipped with an adult anyway

but that concludes the video and thus this response! i have wasted so much time on this i honestly could've showed you them ranting about how "cookies dont have skin colours" in the video or the part in the marina video where they complain about how people "think whitewashing is bad but make non-black characters black" and moved on but what else would i do on a sunday night?

#cookie run #cookie run discourse #FINE ill use that tag but only ONCE. #i got like 52 of the people who've used that tag b4 blocked thts funny #anyway this was a HUGE waste of my time. really fun 2 look at takes that are absolutely freezing cold tho #text

[rudysrings]

TEACH ME

The lifeguard at the beach yesterday inspired me to write this...y’all tell me that’s 👆👆👆not JJ!!!!

Summary: The reader has to train a new lifeguard, a certain blonde who can’t seem to stop hitting on her.

Word count: 4.1k (Holy shit what did I do)

Warnings: Uh mentions of drowning, weed, fluff? Not much this is really just a sweet oneshot

Credit to @alexa-playafricabytoto for the killer idea...I don’t think I did it justice but here we go anyways 😂

DISCLAIMER: I don’t know shit about lifeguards and was too lazy to do research so this it’s extremely likely that this is HIGHLY inaccurate and I’m sorry about that but just go with it for fanfic purposes, eh?

“Hey, Y/N!” Mr. Rodriguez, your manager called out for you from his office in the beach’s visitor center. You had just clocked in, still in your jean shorts and tank. 

You quickly walked over, popping your head in the doorway of his office. Seated in front of him, you noticed, was a blond in a red snapback, a Kildare County Marina T-shirt on. “Yeah, boss?” You asked.

He gave you a rare, sweet smile, gesturing for you to sit down. 

Confused, you cautiously walked over, sliding into the empty chair beside the blonde boy. You felt him glance at you but you looked straight at your manager.

“So Kyle’s out on some family emergency this week…” Your manager started.

You scoffed inwardly but didn’t say anything out loud for the sake of being professional. Kyle’s family emergency was most likely him passed out and hungover after a night of drinking, smoking and a shit ton of coke or molly or acid or whatever he was taking these days. 

“And seeing as he was your partner and was supposed to train the newbie,” Mr. Rodriguez continued, gesturing towards the boy beside you, “So meet JJ Maybank, your new partner until I decide he’s learned enough from you.”

Your beach’s lifeguards worked on a partner system, due to its size. There were always two lifeguards in every tower to maintain maximum security.

You tried not to groan. JJ Maybank? Of all the people in the world, you had to get stuck with the one notorious for recklessness, theft, and starting fights? Of fucking course, you did.

“Right,” You nodded, giving your manager a tight-lipped smile, maintaining your politeness while subtly letting him know you were not happy with the cards you had just been dealt.

Again, without looking at JJ, you stood up, your hands on your hips. “When do we start?” You asked.

“Right now.”

You nodded, turning on your heel and calling over your shoulder. “You coming, Maybank?”

You heard shuffling as he followed after your long strides. You grabbed a rescue buoy for yourself and tossed one to JJ, who caught it with ease. You walked toward the front desk, smiling at Cheri, one of the receptionists your own age who was always nice to you, letting you get away with things she probably shouldn’t have. Picking up two whistles, you walked out the door and finally greeted the boy.

“So you lifeguard now?” 

He shrugged. “I do whatever to pay for my pot.” 

You rolled your eyes, walking down the beach towards your assigned tower for the day. “I can respect that.”

“So there are a few things you should know,” You began, to which JJ listened intently.

“I figure Rodriguez has already been through the list of your duties?” You raised an eyebrow in question.

JJ nodded. “Thoroughly. He doesn’t think I’ve a single brain cell, that man. He tried to draw me a picture of the lifeguard tower.”

You held in a smile. “If you ask me, he’s right to think that,” you quipped, making JJ pout.

“Anyways, apart from that, you need to know a few other things that are kind of unwritten. For example, don’t bother telling people to get off the rocks, just be ready to save them if they fall.”

JJ wrinkled his brows. “The fuck kind of rule is that? Not even going to warn people?”

You shrugged. “Unless you want to make a scene with a bunch of Karens shouting at you for dictating rules on a public beach, then you’ll do as I say.”

JJ grumbled. ‘Yes, ma’am.”

“Bob your head every once in a while so you don’t miss the people right below you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Keep the buoy on you wherever you go.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And lastly, don’t ever think someone is faking anything. Doesn’t matter if your friend is pranking you, we gotta do what we gotta do. We have to save every last imbecile on this beach.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Frustrated, You turned towards him, stopping in the sand, one hand on your hip. “Oh, shut your trap with that ma’am nonsense, Maybank. Trust me, you lucked out with getting me as a partner over Kyle—”

JJ nodded. “I sure did, guy’s a total tool. Besides, hot girl over junkie guy,” he whistled low, “no debate there.”

You tried not to blush at JJ calling you hot, but you felt the tips of your ears turn pink.

“Right, well, you can’t be hitting on me while we’re working together, Maybank.”

“Why not?”

You stepped forward, poking him in the chest. “Because you’ve known me since we were kids, yet we’ve never spoken. So don’t go pretending that I’m not invisible anymore.”

JJ frowned. 

You turned, “Come on, there’s work to do.”

One the two of you climbed up the tower, you put on your whistle and gestured for JJ to lean forward, so that you could toss it over his neck. He did so, accidentally knocking his forehead on yours. “Sorry,” he mumbled, stepping away. 

As he settled in, you stripped your shorts and tank, now left in your ruby red lifeguard one piece.

Today was slow, being a Wednesday off-season, and JJ tried to start a conversation. He pulled out a joint and offered it to you. 

You gave him an “Are you kidding me,” look and he shrugged, unbothered, lighting it up and taking a long hit. “So what’s Keith really doing if he’s not having a family emergency?”

“Kieth? You mean Kyle?”

JJ nodded. “Right, him.”

You laughed dryly, “Probably wrecked after popping ten too many pills and sleeping with a few too many girls. Guy doesn’t know when to stop.”

JJ didn’t look at you, looking out at the sea. “So when did you two break it off?”

“What—We—” You spluttered.

JJ took another long inhale from the joint. “It’s easy to see, babe.”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” you snapped, pulling down your sunglasses from atop your head, hoping to hide the emotions that were most definitely swimming in your eyes. 

“S’not, I know,”

“Then why ask?”

“Just curious as to how a girl like you ended up with a douche like him.”

You were quiet for a moment, before you said, “He wasn’t always like this.”

“Only doing coke, not into molly yet?” JJ joked.

You chuckled. “No, not like that. He was incredibly kind, he had the biggest heart.” You fingered the wood on the arm of your chair.

“Then what happened?”

“Then his mom died, and I wasn’t enough.” Your hand retreated into your lap. 

“He dump you?”

Your eyes narrowed. “No, I dumped him. I’m smart enough to know when I’m getting less than I deserve.”

JJ hummed. “I think I have a chance then.”

You laughed. “You’ve got nothing more than wishful thinking, Maybank.”

“Come to the kegger tonight. I’ll show you wishful thinking.”

You almost gasped at his forwardness. “No, you idiot.”

He turned towards you, meeting your eyes, pleading. You didn’t relent. 

“Fine, miss, I’ll just let you keep that stick up your ass then.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

When lunch came around, you let him go first, and when he returned, smelling of way too much weed, you asked, “You mind if I catch some waves? Think you can hold your own for a half hour?”

JJ gave a toothy grin. “Hell yeah, and watch you ride those waves? It’s going to be hard for me to watch anything but you.”

You smacked him over the head. “Do your job or we’ll both be in trouble, Maybank.”

You grabbed your board and climbed down, racing across the sand towards the water. Finally, you let yourself relax, sinking into the waves as they came. You even caught yourself doing a couple tricks, unconsciously trying to impress the blonde boy who was watching you from the tower. You felt high as a kite when you even managed to successfully execute several cutbacks in a row. You thought you heard a celebratory whistle from the direction of the tower and you jokingly gave a salute towards the beach.

As you climbed back up, JJ cheered. “Holy shit! I knew you were good, but god damn, Y/N! You gotta teach me how to do that Rodeo Flip! I’ve been trying to get it down for years!”

You laughed. “We’ll see, Maybank.”

His hands tugging at his hair in excitement, he asked, “How are you not going pro?!”

You shrugged. “I don’t do it for sport. It’s just something I do for me.”

JJ nodded, a renewed look of respect in his eyes. “Word.”

You spent the rest of your shift laughing at the ridiculous tourists on the beach, especially the ones that forgot sunblock.

You told JJ to go on ahead of towards the visiting center as you had a couple of things left to tidy up. 

When you returned, he was chatting up Cheri, a thousand watt smile on her face as she enjoyed the attention from the pretty blonde.

You rolled your eyes, shoving past them to dump your equipment and clock out. You didn’t know what that bubbling feeling in your abdomen was, or why your stomach lurched at the thought of Cheri and JJ, or maybe you did, but you chose not to think about it too hard, afraid of the conclusion you’d come to.

As you walked out of the visitor center, turning towards home, you heard JJ call your name. You stopped, closing your eyes and muttering a silent prayer for the patience to deal with this boy.

He jogged out, making his way to you. “Hey!” He greeted, out of breath.

“Here to give me another half-assed invite to some kegger?” You asked.

JJ frowned, shaking his head. “No, I just wanted to clarify something you said this morning. You-You said that I thought you were invisible, because we’ve never spoken.”

“And?” you didn’t see where he was going with this other than to insult you.

“We’ve never spoken because I had the biggest crush on you Y/N. I’ve avoided you everywhere. You were hardly invisible to me. If anything, I didn’t think you saw me.”

You laughed. “Sure, Maybank.”

JJ shuffled his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It’s true,” he mumbled.

You smiled, “Have fun at the kegger, JJ.” You gave him a peck on the cheek before walking off into the night, the darkness hiding your flaming cheeks. 

You heard a celebratory whoop from behind you and bit your lip as you smiled. 

Your heart felt light all week as you got closer to your partner. He was actually great at his job, especially with the children patrons on the beach, which greatly surprised you. 

You remembered one day in the middle of the week, when you were dropping your equipment off, JJ didn’t have his whistle. 

When you asked about it, he simply laughed. “This kid near the docks kept pestering me for it. Little guy wanted to be a junior lifeguard. Couldn’t say no…”

It was at the end of the week when you met his friends, the infamous, self-proclaimed pogues.

The trio had shown up near the end of your shift, claiming to be curious of the job that JJ actually managed to keep for longer than a day. JJ saw them approaching and immediately swore, turning towards you to say, “I’m going to apologize now for what you’re about to experience.”

Before you could ask what that meant, he had left, climbing down the towers to stop his friends from reaching you. 

Confused, you made your way down, too, watching as a boy with shaggy brown hair clapped JJ over the back, ruffling his hair aggressively. “So this is what you’ve been missing out on pogue days for?”

A dark haired boy, who looked nervous about simply existing, added, “Not what, who,” nodding at you, standing with your arms crossed over your chest and an eyebrow cocked. 

JJ had a permanent blush on his face, but you couldn’t puzzle out why. Meanwhile, you received a slightly reserved smile from the girl holding hands with the nervous boy. She waved politely. 

The boy with shaggy hair marched forward, arms wide open to give you a hug. You thrust your hand out on instinct, which he looked at like a difficult algebra equation, before brushing it away gently and pulling you into his tight embrace. The boy gave great hugs, you had to admit. The kind of tight bear hugs you expect from your mom. 

You laughed nervously, patting him on the back and looking over his shoulder at the other three, who all laughed. JJ mouthed I’m sorry at you and you responded with I’m going to kill you.

When he finally let you go, he tussled your hair and said, “Nice to meet the girl who’s got my boy tripping over his own feet to get to work. I’m John B.”

You flicked your eyes over to JJ, who was as red as a tomato. He buried his face in Pope’s shoulder, muttering something. You snorted. “Hardly. I’m Y/N.”

The dark haired boy grinned, “Trust me, we know. I’m Pope and this is Kie,” he introduced himself and what you assumed was his girlfriend.

In the next hour, you learned that JJ’s friends were loud, blunt and lacked basic manners in some ways, but they were youthful and thick as thieves, clearly a family. 

There was something warm about Pope, something that allowed you to trust him immediately, completely. So when the other three were surfing, and he joined you on the sand, asking you, “So are you feelin’ my boy or what?”, you weren’t afraid to be completely honest.

Giving a short laugh at his bluntness, you admitted, “I don’t really know. There could be something there. There is something there, I think.”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

You would feel pathetic to confess this to anybody else, but Pope seemed like he wouldn’t judge you if you admitted to having three children. “I don’t know if we want the same things. I don’t see a guy like that in a serious relationship. Doesn’t seem like the type to settle.”

Pope grinned. “You know him well, then.”

Your heart fell as you thought that Pope was confirming your fears.

“But not well enough, I think. You’d be surprised. He’s kind of...obsessed with you. But not in the “Pokemon gotta catch ‘em all!” kind of way. He doesn’t see you as some sort of spiky eared Pichu…”

He trailed off and you looked at him, absolutely baffled. “I’m sorry...I don’t follow?”

Pope cleared his throat. “He likes you, Y/N, like really respects you and wants to make you happy. Any fool can see that.”

You were sure your entire body was on fire with how hard you flushed. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Well, you keep him on his toes so we don’t mind. And it’s made him a little softer, a little more careful, which we definitely don’t mind. He needs to be checked, that one.”

Pope stood up, reaching his hand out and pulling you up. “Now, JJ tells me you have a killer cutback. Wanna show me?” He asks.

You give him a big smile, grateful for his kind words and ability to seamlessly bring you back to reality from that heavy conversation. “I’d love to. If you can keep up!” 

Laughing, Pope followed you into the ocean, JJ giving you an excited smile as you joined him in the water, content to see you getting along with his family.

Later that night, when his friends left, and JJ was helping you towel off your hair while shaking his own like a wet dog, making you giggle and shriek at the sensation, he asked, “You wanna actually catch some waves outside of this beach sometime?” 

It was your conversation with Pope earlier that gave you the confidence to say, “How about tomorrow? It’s our day off…”

“I’ll pick you up before dawn then?”

You nodded, “Sounds perfect.”

He tossed you your towel, casually throwing an arm over your shoulder as the two of you walked back to the visitor’s center.

The next morning, you were a mess. JJ had never seen you in anything aside from your lifeguard uniform and you nearly lost your mind trying to figure out what to wear. You felt like a middle schooler deciding what to wear on the first day of school to impress their crush. 

Eventually, you thought to hell with it, and just went with a blue romper over your swimsuit, letting your hair down for once.

You didn’t bother with makeup since you were planning to get soaked anyways. 

When you heard the distinct sound of a large engine approaching, you walked out of your house, curious.

When the image of JJ on a dirt bike came into focus, you couldn’t help the cackle that tittered out of your mouth. 

He slowed down to a complete stop in front of your driveway, swinging his leg over and walking up to you, spinning the key ‘round his finger.

“Hey, dude!” He greeted, sweeping you up in an unexpected hug. Still, you melted into his frame, letting your usually rigid spine relax, feeling JJ nuzzle into your shoulder slightly and sighing.

You pulled away after a moment and JJ rubbed the back of his neck shyly, shuffling his feet awkwardly. “Sorry, I-uh, I really needed that today.” This boy was touch-starved. 

You patted his chest as you walked towards the dirt bike. “S’alright, it happens to the best of us.”

JJ followed you. “You ever ridden one of these before?”

You cocked your head at him. “Oh yeah, all the time.”

He looked surprised, before handing you the keys and raising his eyebrows in challenge. “Prove it.”

You simply smirked and mounted the bike, pretending you didn’t hear JJ mumble “That’s hot,” under his breath. Instead, you started the engine and nodded at him to get on behind you.

JJ smiled before climbing on behind you, scooching forward until every inch of your back was flush against his front. 

“Let’s go, babe!” You said, before taking off down the street. 

JJ gave you directions, steering you into areas of the Cut you had never been, which was saying something since you knew this town like the back of your hand.

Finally, he pulled up to a small cove, where you saw a small patch of sand. It was the farthest land towards the sea, meaning you would probably find the biggest waves.

“Holy shit, how did I not know this place existed?”

JJ grinned, bringing you to a small shack where a couple of boards were hidden from view in the foliage. 

He handed you a board. “I’m full of surprises. Your hair smells nice, by the way.”

“Stop that!” You laughed.

“Stop what?”

You slapped him over the head. “Making me blush.”

“Don’t think I will.”

You rolled your eyes and simply unzipped your romper, ignoring the whistle from JJ as you stepped out in only your swimsuit. You laid the fabric over the handle of his dirt bike and turned towards him. He was still in his T-shirt and swim trunks.

“Aren’t you going to take your shirt off?”

JJ gave a shit-eating grin, “My, my, Y/L/N, at least take a guy to dinner first.”

You shoved at his chest. “No, you dumbass, I meant you can’t surf in that.”

JJ opened his mouth as if to say something before pausing and wrinkling his nose. “It’s just not a good idea for me today.”

“What did you eat a little too much? I can promise I’m not afraid of a food baby, Maybank, I can deal.”

JJ tried explaining before just giving up and pulling his shirt off, leaving you shocked and incredibly confused, not to mention concerned.

Bruises littered his body, beginning at his shoulder and ending far below his ribs. Involuntarily, your hand brushed his skin. “What the fuck happened, JJ?”

He shrugged. “S’my Dad, you know. Gets angry sometimes is all.”

You shook your head sadly. “You don’t deserve that.”

JJ laughed darkly. “That’s up for debate.”

You stomped your foot. “No, it’s absolutely not! No one deserves that, especially not you.”

JJ softened. “You really think so?”

“Of course I do.”

He gave a small smile. “So you won’t make fun of me for not being able to keep up with you today? It’s only because I got my ass kicked, otherwise I’d surf circles around you all day.”

His words made you frown, but you recognized the coping mechanism and simply said, “Oh sure, Maybank. You know as well as I do that there’s not a world where you can surf better than me.”

He shrugged, walking towards the water. “I can sure as hell try, babe!”

Surfing with JJ was an experience on some whole other level. Sharing a wave was something even the most experienced surfers didn’t attempt, but something in you trusted JJ and the two of you tried it out. It was absolutely surreal, until JJ didn’t resurface.

Your euphoric smile quickly turned into a panicked cry. “JJ? JJ?!” You looked around and caught sight of him hanging on to his board, eyes closed. You swiftly untied your board from your ankle and swam over to him, pulling him towards you. He was like dead weight. You dragged him over to the shore and dumped him there, immediately leaning down to check his pulse. 

You felt it clear as day, but tears filled your eyes. “JJ! Wake up!”

You began chest compressions immediately. Before you even got to ten, however, you heard a giggle. 

Bewildered, you looked at his smiling face, his amused blue eyes laughing at you.

You instantly flinched away, retreating from him. “You were faking?”

JJ nearly choked on his laughter. “You-you should have—” He tried to breathe through the guffaws “—seen your face! Priceless!”

You slapped at his chest with your fists as he sat up, ignoring his slight winces given his prior injuries. “Ay, ay what’s up with that! Stop it, Y/N!”

“You bastard! I thought you were dying!”

JJ softened, before holding the back of your neck and pulling you towards him, leaning in to capture your lips with his. It was sweet and short and he pulled away quickly, asking. “Was that alright?”

You shook your head, pouting. “No, another!” 

He smiled, but gave in to your pleas gleefully, his other hand coming over the front of your neck, pulling you closer to him by your throat. You bit his lip harshly, still angry from the stunt he had just pulled and his whined quietly, moving his hand down your spine, hands brushing the bare skin that your swimsuit exposed. 

He lay back, pulling you on top of him. You straddled him, allowing him to deepen the kiss. You didn’t realize how much you had wanted this until you were doing it. You were kissing JJ Maybank. And it felt right. It felt as right as surfing did, maybe even better, you dared to think. 

Maybe it was the fact that he kissed you like he had all the time in the world and didn’t care, because he was hungry right now. Maybe it was how he held you like he was afraid you would let go. Maybe it was how he managed to wordlessly beg for your skin on his, clearly touch-starved. Whatever it was, it solidified the growing feelings you had for the blonde, blossoming into something new, something stronger, something better, until you couldn’t hear any of your own thoughts other than his name--over, and over and over again. 

When you finally broke that time, you smiled into his neck, trying to catch your breath. “Wow,” sighed JJ, “That was some kiss, babe. If you kiss me like that forever, I’ll die a happy man.”

You giggled, but sat up slightly, flicking his nose. You knew you had to get this awful, insecure doubt of yours out of your mouth right now before you let it fester into something that could ruin this beautiful thing you were creating with JJ. “If you ever break my heart, JJ, I swear to God, you better not cheat on me.”

He frowned. “Wouldn’t dream of it. I’ve wanted this forever. Can’t fuck it up now.”

You smiled, bending down for another kiss. JJ stopped you. “Wait. While we’re making promises, let me just say, if you ever get back with Kyle, I will sue.”

You thought the whole town probably heard your laugh then.

K so not my best work but hope y’all liked it!

Tagging @rretrophilee @jjsbxtch @drewsephsmiles @uwubonebabie bc we talked about it! You don’t have to read if you don’t want to lol 💛

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #jj #jj maybank x you #obx #jj imagines #jj imagine #jj x you #jj maybank imagine #jj x reader #jj outer banks #obx jj #jj x y/n #outer banks imagines #outerbanks #obx fanfiction #jj maybank fluff

[iheartbookbran]

Anthony, Penelope, Marina and Colin deserved better...

Beware, rant ahead

Ok I wish I didn’t feel such strong need to continue beating this dead horse but oopsie, I will very much be beating it some more.

Like, my fave books of the Bridgerton series are Anthony’s and Colin’s books, so I’m seething about what they did with their characterizations, Anthony and Penelope in particular, because Colin’s only real sin was being boring, and if you remember how funny he’s in the books it makes me wanna fall on my knees and ask Chris Van Dusen whyyyy omg why would you do something like that to such a dynamic character. So yeah, Colin is boring af and a moron but at least he isn’t an asshole the way show Anthony and Penelope are, and I’ve seen people say that they can always be redeemed in future seasons, if we get them, but that’s exactly my problem, because they never had to be redeemed in the books, to begin with. Penelope more so than Anthony but let me begin by defending my boy.

Is he a jerk sometimes? Sure. Is he actively awful and uncaring towards those close to him, especially his family? Hell no, quite the opposite, in fact. Not to be controversial on main but in the books... he was right in not wanting Daphne to be courted by a man who he knew damn right had no intention of marrying her and as far as he was aware was only making her waste her time, and he was right in demanding Simon pay for compromising her honor. Could he have been more mindful of what Daphne had to say and listened to her wishes? Of course, but considering Simon and Daphne (both in the show and in the books) aren’t exactly masters in communication themselves, Anthony doesn’t come off as the biggest offender in that situation.

What he never did was force Daphne, or any of his sisters really, to do anything; if they didn’t like a guy then that guy was out of their lives no question asked, and he loved them enough to always have their best interests at heart, for his sisters and his brothers, to the point that even though he’s traumatized and thinks he’s gonna die young he’s still willing to get past that to do his duty and marry, because he doesn’t want to pass that burden on to his little brothers (so him deciding to leave all his responsibilities to Benedict so he can fck off with his mistress is... like, a choice lmao). In fact all the subplot with Siena felt like a choice on the writers part, like they truly liked Benedict and Sophie’s story so they just slapped it on Anthony so he could act all sad and sexy while they gave us foreshadowing with the subtlety of a warharmer that he’s ending up with Kate anyways (and that Benedict is ending with Sophie anyways too, so they would be using that storyline twice, unless they do make him bi and fall in love with a man, but maybe that’s too much of ask for this show), so what was Siena’s purpose in the story? Who tf knows not me.

Now Penelope, my god. Yes I know I joke Penny has never done anything wrong in her life, and I still love her, but she was wrong. Very much so. What she did was significantly worse than what Marina did, which I still don’t condone at all. Like yes, I still maintain that Marina tricking Colin into marriage was wrong (and I’ll go later on why that whole subplot was racist af), but what Penelope did could have not only ruined Marina and herself and her sisters reputations, but it was basically condemning an innocent unborn child to a life in the streets, that’s messed up. Even if Marina was rose-coloring her potential life with Colin and he might have grown to resent her, at least the baby would’ve been alright. And my problem with that whole subplot is that all of it was resolved so neatly, with Sir Phillip sweeping in to save the day so we don’t have to actually see what Penelope’s actions could have caused, but the implications are still very much there.

And I’m cracking my mind trying to figure out whether the showrunners just... really hate Colin’s book and Penelope as a character so they’re trying to inflict some kind of character assassination on her so they can get away with writing him off with another person without causing much outrage, or if they just thought there wasn’t enough ~drama~ or stakes on their book so they have to add them, and give him some kind of bullshit tragic romantic past to explain why he doesn’t want to marry, whereas in the books, the reason he doesn’t marry anyone is because he doesn’t feel like it, and that’s ok, there’s no need for every character to have a tragic backstory and to be riddled with angst; Colin is that character, he’s an easy going guy who’s just not interested in marriage until he falls in love with Penny AND THAT’S VALID, just because he doesn’t have the most complex motivations out there doesn’t mean he isn’t a compelling character. The stakes in his story after he discovers Penny is Whistledown are, as he points out, that she has insulted so many people there’s no way some of them wouldn’t want to retaliate if word came out, and he cares for her and doesn’t want her to get hurt (there’s also a dumb part about him being secretly jealous of her accomplishments as Whistledown, but thankfully he gets over that pretty quickly).

But while I am on that, it is true that Penelope wrote some uncharitable things about the mean people around her, but she never ever ruined someone’s reputation, let alone endanger the future of a child. Was she a bitch sometimes? Yeah, but she was also kind to a lot of people and her criticism was never unwarranted and never did more damage than maybe annoy a couple of girls like Cressida. I just hate the idea of this needing to turn into some sort of ~redemption arc~ for Penelope because, again, in the books she really didn’t have to make up for anything, definitely not to Colin, who was actually the one who had to do much of the heavy lifting in their relationship when he realized that he literally slept on her for years.

And now regarding Marina, like yes, she was wrong and I stand by that statement (but not as wrong as Penelope), but tbh I find it hard to be mad at her when they gave her such a racist storyline, as the scheming woc who gets pregnant out of wedlock and then tries to seduce the innocent white man, until the virtuous white girl needs to step up to save him. At least that’s what I thought initially as the writers intention, but honestly I’m not so sure anymore, I doubt they will continue to write her and Colin as a couple otherwise they would’ve bothered to show them interacting outside of her manipulating him and him acting like a bumbling idiot, the most sincere moment they had together was when he comforted her about the lie, but by that time this bitch (me) was empty and didn’t give a shit anymore. Literally all their other interactions where shown through Penelope’s POV to let us know she was sad, and Colin’s most significant scenes where again... with Penelope (because it isn’t as if he has a family and his own moments in the books outside of being an object for Penelope to pine after).

And as I said before, Marina had a—relatively—happy ending: married to a man she doesn’t love (just as she didn’t love Colin) but who will treat her right and care for her and her child in comfort. Is arguably a better ending than if she’d married Colin because now she doesn’t have to go through the trouble of explaining things to her new husband and run the risk of him resenting her forever. Phillip may not love her but he knows who he’s marrying and why he’s marrying her. That’s literally the same fate Marina had in the books, and it makes me wonder why, oh why would the writers do that.

Why create such a contrived plot to give a character who appears in one(1) chapter of an 8 books series then promptly dies, all at the expense of the characterization of one of the most beloved heroines of said books series? Why would you write this racist storyline for a character whose fate is dying? And now I’m horrified at the repercussions that can come with Marina committing su*cide like in canon, because the implications would be that Penelope would be responsible for it (and I hate the idea of blaming one person for the su*cide of another, fictional or otherwise, is harmful and we need to be careful with making such implications), which would make her even less redeemable or like, likable in general. Not to mention that would be like putting the final racist nail in Marina’s coffin by giving her that ending.

It makes me wonder, seriously, if Chris Van Dusen hated Romancing Mister Bridgerton that much, if he loathed the idea of writing a fat character finding love and getting sex that much. I just wanna know why lmfao.

#rant over #if i sound salty is because i am #like there actually were a lot of aspects i did enjoy but i just cannot get past this #though this rant helped me a lot to feel better so there’s that #tellmewhy.gif #anthony bridgerton #penelope featherington #marina thompson #colin bridgerton #polin #tagging them bc i rant quite a lot about how they ruined their relationship #enjoy the salt uwu #bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #bridgerton spoilers #meta #my meta

[gaytransflint]

for hayley: modern AU in which Flint is simply enamored with Silver (his “roommate”) and an accidental slip of the tongue OR don’t worry i wrote some fluffy slice of life stuff a few weeks ago and you get to have that too.

Was it possible for a boatman’s boots to be waterlogged? Was it possible for a workman’s hands to be too calloused? Was there a tolerance point for all things thought to be in perfect equilibrium? Something was always bound to give. Something about to change...

Flint removed his shoes by the stair’s landing, taking the three steps and backdoor foyer in his bare feet. He shouldered off his slicker and tossed it over the drying rack set up in the corner. Only his clothes had seen water at the marina for months. Since Silver-- since Flint had heard what true pain sounded like-- Silver had been in their shared bungalow, just inland from the cheap shore tourism. It was quiet, Flint had always thought, and hoped it could be a perfect place to heal. Maybe to grow.

Flint stepped out of the foyer and into the kitchen-- only to find Silver bent over the counter on his elbows, eating out of a cereal box with his hands. He was leaning off of his prosthetic boot. It was very clearly exposed; Silver had rolled his pants up to his mid-calf that day. An improvement from the long, dangerously unhemmed flannels he’d worn at the very beginning of his time out of hospital.

It was a lot to take in, a lot of small details that collaborated into a small sigh from Flint, but he couldn’t let that be his  only  response. Silver had barely registered he’d walked in the door, too busy staring across the room to the TV-- or rather the open sea-facing window behind it.

“And what is it you’re doing, exactly?” Flint patted Silver’s right side as he reached over him for a glass. Silver didn’t move; he  had  heard Flint come inside. And continued to stand like that anyway.

Noted.

“Saying sane.” Silver answered, evening his weight onto both feet.

“That right?” Flint poured himself a drink and quirked his eyebrow over the glass’s edge before taking a sip.

“Not like I can go to work.” Silver said shortly, although he spoke with enough of a grin to keep their banter alive. “And I refuse to  clean  anything. I am  not  your housewife.”

“Oh, thank god.” Flint laughed, lowering his glass. “For a moment I was worried. A clean house sounds terrible.”

“Fuck you.” Silver said with a short, airy laugh.

He pushed Flint’s chest as he walked past, and Flint elected not to notice it was a move to keep his balance rather than inciting any brushing intimacy. Flint kept his hands to himself and finished his drink.

“Actually,” Silver started again from the living room. “I walked on the beach for a while. Got used to the slide of the sand again.” He eased himself down onto the couch, wincing when the weight left his feet. “It was nice.”

“Now, you’re sure you’re being--”

“Careful?” Silver finished, turning to him. His eyes were sharp and blue, like all his mourning staring out over the water had been captured and aimed directly at Flint. “What is there to be careful over? Thin air?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know that’s not what you meant but you don’t have to be so…  doting  over it.” Silver sighed. With a short yank he pulled his prosthetic off his knee and laid it against the coffee table.

Flint wished there was more in his glass than a pitiful, single golden drop. It said too much about his desire to apologize. “Looks like we’ll both not have to be wives then.”

“Hm, looks like.”

Flint left his glass on the table and followed after Silver to the living room. Uninvited to the couch, Flint took the armchair beside it. He closed his eyes and groaned as he felt the bones in his feet become weightless again. They throbbed to his heartbeat, loud and rumbling-- but also incriminatingly fast.

“Worked you hard today, huh?”

“Don’t they every day?”

“Yeah, well, on some days you just look a bit more shit.”

Flint opened his eyes to Silver’s instigating and charming grin.

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Really wish I could.” Silver winked, reaching for a can on the coffee table and raising it to him.

It hadn’t been opened, the cracking of the top sounding like a small shot. It was one of those non-alcoholic, water-but-not-quite drinks Silver began to buy after his surgery.

“My God, Silver, just have a  beer .”

“What? And be a belligerent drunk stumbling around our house-- like some kind of slurring ghost?”

Flint knew he was on the spot for a quip, for some kind of teasing return to keep their game going-- something to keep on their routine of having the other up against a wall before dinner. But his mind was suddenly caught in a wave of fog, a blanket of cotton-cloud sticking to the inside of Flint’s mouth. He was parched and drowning at the same time.

Our house  .  Stumbling around   our house  .

Surely it had been a slip up, a misunderstanding of his own words, a momentary lapse of literacy. Or maybe, it had been a quiet union. An extended hand that did more than rest on his thigh under the table, or over his waist at night. A hand that held, but was never going to let go.

It was  their  home and it was  their  lives. And Silver was Flint’s man, his health a prioritized concern, the shifts of the marina be damned. Silver was the future, every last second of it stretching out before him with those same beautiful blue eyes. And he chose  their house .

“Hm? Well?” Silver prompted.

“They disgust me--  you disgust me.”

“Oh, allow me to hold you to that later,  James .” Silver’s voice was as sweet as honey and Flint’s throat suddenly felt thick with it. “Now get over here and let me get the knot out of your shoulders. I can see it from here.”

Flint stood from his chair and shifted over to the empty seat on the couch. Silver braced an arm along the back of it, ready to receive Flint immediately. His hands were broad, and warm, pressing into Flint’s back with steep pressure.

“Ow.”

“Oh, that doesn’t  hurt .” Silver’s hands paused, his thumbs bracing the back of Flint’s neck. “Would you like it to?” Silver’s arm slipped around and hooked in front of Flint’s throat with a laugh. His leg, outstretched along the length of the couch, twisted in and hooked over Flint’s knee. “Because that can be arranged.”

“Come off, Silver. Before you hurt yourself.”

“I don’t think you understand who’s in the compromised position here.” Silver adjusted his arm around Flint’s neck, tugging Flint to rest against his chest.

Flint wasn’t trapped, but he let himself stay, pressing back against Silver. His body was still warmed from the sun, from being outside and doing his best to stay active and alive, to heal so soon after his accident. Still warmed after going out if only to come back  to their house . He left and returned, smelling of the sea and the faint, dusty smell of sunlight. Flint couldn’t move away from it. He loved being held by Silver, but now he could consider it being settled. There was nowhere else to go.

“Aren't you going to struggle? Oh, come on, I’m still a fair fight.” Silver jostled Flint’s shoulders, pressing their temples together.

Flint sighed, letting his head fall back against Silver’s shoulder. “No.”

“No,  what ? I could still kick your ass.”

“I know.” Flint agreed, the sunlight taking his bite away. His hands splayed out over Silver’s legs, gently holding them up and around his body. He took a long breath in, unwilling to let it out, like he’d lose something in the process. His grip tightened on Silver. “I just don’t want to. This… This is enough for me.”

Flint had been searching for it for years-- how could home not be enough for him?

#silverflint #silverflint fics #john silver #james flint #captain flint #my fics #the joke is hes drinking black cherry seltzer ajdjdkd #just something stupid and fun i wrote

[fishmongeringstudies]

eighteen ways to forgive yourself and one reason to try

anyone who had the happy misfortune of speaking to me in the last three months has probably, at some point, been treated to my now-established signature monologue about how my skin is clear, my crops are thriving, and the body living in my closet finally rotted away and was picked apart and carried off by ants. many facets of my life in the spring contributed to this impression. i was eating edible things. i was actively meeting people. i was waking up at the crackass of dawn (a/n: seven a.m.) and going for morning runs and drinking strawberry smoothies which cost even more than the disappointingly expensive boost smoothies of my early childhood. most of these things are, i understand, normal. i am under the impression that the average human being often meets other human beings at places with food and spends significant lengths of time conversing with them. but i am not like the other girls. i am not a girl. i am your coffee machine.

the problem with those freaky little before-and-after narratives that started as a trend on instagram and have since been adopted into the way we narrate our lives as a whole is that for the narrative to work, the before and after have to be really, really far away from each other. in order to create this distance, influencers have historically attacked the earth with shovels, construction vehicles, and shaving razors. but apart from the cost of renting a supersized claw machine and subsequently hiring someone to sit in it, one must also ask the question: why are you digging to begin with?

all of which is to say that i'm bored. i'm bored of being a freaky little human being. i no longer care if i go for weeks at a time without talking to anyone, and i fully intend to go for weeks at a time without talking to anyone because priorities shift, and last thursday (arbitrary) a bunch of mine tripped off the edge of the table and fell into the gutter and died. luckily we have a new gutter now and new earth around it, new flowers, new trees. terraforming in animal crossing is a privilege one unlocks after you trick k.k. slider into visiting your island. i have yet to unlock that achievement. for the time being, i am terraforming my soul.

what are this summer's priorities? priority one: not die from heatstroke (hard). priority two: write (less hard). you see this? there are no humans in this floor layout. i am trying to become god.

and that's what was wrong with spring. i thought spring was a step in the right direction, a step into the great unknown of self-care and personal improvement and half-an-hour-long white yoga mom meditation videos with ad breaks every three minutes. but it wasn't any of those things. i just got up one day and started walking in the other direction. around the same stupid houseplant. i have spent my whole life walking around this stupid houseplant.

metaphor: you spend your whole life walking around a houseplant. sometimes you see different parts of it and you think: wow, these are some cool leaves. other times you see wall and wall and wall and you think: wow, this is a wall. what i am trying to say is that life is both the cool leaves and the wall. life is many other things, too, like electric chainsaws and the niagara falls and half-baked cinnamon rolls which make you question the sanctity of life and specifically yours. life is not one photograph taken in front of marina bay sands in which your ass looks delicious and your skin is especially pink. life is falling out of the frame while trying to make your elbow look sexier than it's ever been before and tumbling down the stairs. life is breaking your leg.

in my happy spring monologue i told everyone i was miserable before i got to america, but things had changed and i was better now and would never live like that ever again. i was wrong. i didn't get better and i haven't gotten worse since spring left. i haven't gone anywhere. i'm still here with my fucked-up spine and my fucked-up sense of humor. a recent discovery: sometimes i want to spend every waking hour of my life in the presence of other people and happiness is the small conversations you have while waiting in line in the dining hall and every breath taken in the presence of another is a gift. other times i want to hole myself up in my room and hammer away at a google document until my fingernails fall off for ten weeks. sometimes i am lonely. other times i want to be alone.

before and after. yes and no. lies! social media is full of lies! i know this because i use social media. believe me. trust nothing you read on the internet.

today i wrote some, listened to podcasts some, and spent an ungodly amount of time on one of the same four puzzles i've been putting together and taking apart all summer. i didn't have a particularly enlightening conversation with anyone. fuck, i barely spoke to anyone at all. when i got bored of my puzzle i watched people wade through the sticky wet afternoon from my third-floor window. later on in the evening, two people met each other on the path leading up to my dorm. one of them took out their airpods and slipped them into their pocket, then held up their hand and waved. 'hi,' he probably said. his friend waved back. they paused for half a second to talk, two figures painted gold by a saccharine yellow sun, then gently parted ways.

life is beautiful. but life is beautiful no matter how you choose to live it. there is no way to optimize the human experience because humans have too many bones to keep track of. i am convinced some of mine go missing in the night and return at the crack of dawn (a/n: seven a.m.) before i wake, slipping into my open, snoring mouth and settling themselves back in their sockets. i am convinced that i have done nothing wrong.

spring was nice. i might have made something flower. i might have mowed one or two bodies down with a lawnmower. but this isn't singapore, this is america, and when you live in america, absurd as it may seem, the seasons actually change. spring died; i watched it happen. i was standing there when it took its last breath and the last of my people-loving peace vanished down the drain with it. spring died, and now making plans makes me anxious again. i'm inclined to horrible bouts of groundless negativity and being outside for longer than two hours at a time makes my head hurt. but i haven't taken any steps backwards, and i haven't fallen off a cliff. spring happened; i was there. i haven't lost the triumphs of spontaneity and fearlessness and joy and the long conversations had with people i no longer speak to. after all, i'm still walking around the same stupid houseplant in the same stupid apartment where the blinds in the kitchen are broken and the floorboards on the left side of the hallway creak and the houseplant in front of the speaker is dead but we all pretend it isn't anyway. it doesn't matter if you're standing in the storage room or on the living room balcony, watching people crawl like ants across the street below. it's still the same damn apartment. you're still the same damn clown. and you're killing it, babe, you're the star of the show.

06.07.21

[songsofacagedbird]

you’re something out of a dream

a love letter to luxor’s balo driskell

While I think tissues are needed at this point for all three of these playlists, can I just say with Balo’s I think they’re especially needed? Maybe I’m just extra soft for Balo in general but hers personally made me the most emotional, she definitely went hard with this one. Anyway, it covers the entire Luxor timeline for her just about, major plot points and stuff, but a bit less so the reveal of her main secret that occurred during graduation honestly - as this playlist was made before that and given it took me ages to perfect the end, I’m just going to leave it be. 

Again, there’s references to other muses / plot points littered throughout, as well as references to eating disorders and a couple nicer things like her love for art. I’d also like to thank Lex for her help during these playlists, from the idea itself to helping me test listen yet again, this is going to be a pattern in these descriptions and I’m sorry for anyone who like “Katie stfu” already but genuinely it’s really thanks to her that these even exist and honestly they’re actually some of the playlists I am most proud of to date.

Please keep in mind that the standard Balo triggers apply (mental health, eating disorders, abuse / child abuse). Any additional tws will be noted on their sections if they apply.

in dreams you will lose your heartaches. whatever you wish for, you keep | pre-luxor (aka pre-rp):

balo before luxor, navigating her life

Song of the Caged Bird (Lindsey Stirling) [ instrumental ] // Castle On A Cloud (Isabelle Allen) [ I know a place where no ones lost. I know a place where no one cries. Crying at all is not allowed, not in my castle on a cloud. ] // Paint the Pictures (of Verona) [ I paint the picture of the oceans I'll never see. I hold a candle through the darkness so I believe. ] // almost home (mxmtoon) [ No one ever says all the love you give might not be enough. Broke my heart in two a couple times before it hurt too much. ] // A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes (Lily James) [ Have faith in your dreams and someday your rainbow will come smiling through. No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep on believing the dream that you wish will come true. ]

does it hurt to see how our smiles have changed, my friend? | summer & fall 2019:

the period of time I was playing Balo in Luxor originally, from June 2019 right up until her intervention in October

Friends In The Corner (Foxes) [ Do you need someone? Everybody's looking like they need someone. All of my friends in the corner, everybody's looking like they need someone. Pretending we don't fear the morning. ] // Scars To Your Beautiful (Alessia Cara) [ She says, “beauty is pain and there's beauty in everything. What's a little bit of hunger? I could go a little while longer,” she fades away. ] // Never Gonna Let You Down (Colbie Caillat) [ I'm never gonna let you down, I'm always gonna build you up. When you're feeling lost, I will always find you, love. ] // Running with the Wolves (AURORA) [ There's blood on your lies, the scars open wide. There is nowhere for you to hide, the hunter's moon is shinin'. ] // She Is the Sunlight (Trading Yesterday) [ And it will take this life of regret for my heart to learn to forget. Tomorrow will be as it always has been, and I will fall to her again. ]

you keep trying to get inside my head while i keep trying to lose the words you said | winter 2019 & early Spring 2020:

Balo’s hospitalization, and the time at home following it.

All the King's Horses (Karmina) [ Is it still a home when you're all alone? All the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put me back together again. ] // Safe (Britt Nicole) [ Oh no, my walls are gonna break. So close, it's more than I can take. I'm so tired of turning and running away. ] // Lost Boy (Ruth B.) [ There was a time when I was alone, no where to go and no place to call home. My only friend was the man in the moon, and even sometimes he would go away too. ] // Keep Your Head Up (Ben Howard) [ 'Cause I'll always remember you the same, eyes like wild flowers with your demons of change. ] // Wake Me Up (Madilyn Bailey) [ They tell me I'm too young to understand. They say I'm caught up in a dream. My life will pass me by if I don't open up my eyes, well that's fine by me. ] // Dance (Foxes) [ I want you, got no shame. This therapy's gone to waste; when the midnight hour comes in vain, you're in my head, you say my name. ]

what the fuck are perfect places anyway? | spring 2020:

Balo’s return to Luxor, leading up to her breakdown at prom additional tws: drugs and alcohol (perfect places)

Good Day for Dreaming (Ruelle) [ There's a hope, there's a spark, there's a fire. There's a light in the dark burning brighter. It's a good day for dreaming. ] // Perfect Places (Lorde) [ All of our heroes fading, now I can't stand to be alone. Let's go to perfect places! ] // prom dress (mxmtoon) [ I'm sitting here, crying in my prom dress. I'd be the prom queen if crying was a contest. Makeup is running down, feelings are all around. How did I get here? I need to know... ]

i would sell my sorry soul if i could have it all | summer 2020:

summer camp adventures, and the starts of questioning who she is

Live Life (Zayde Wølf) [ Sometimes I think that I'm the dreamer, the one that's standing all alone. Sometimes it feels like it's forever since I've truly felt at home. ] // Celeste (Ezra Vine) [ You're something out of a dream, messing with my head and I've been looking for you. Are you hiding? ] // The State of Dreaming (MARINA) [ If only you knew my dear, how I live my life in fear. ] // If Only (Dove Cameron) [ If only I knew what my heart was telling me. Don't know what I'm feeling; is this just a dream? If only I could read the signs in front of me, I could find the way to who I'm meant to be. ]

my heart can't possibly break when it wasn't even whole to start with | fall & winter 2020:

balo’s disownment, her breakup with kitty, and coming to terms with them

raindrops {an angel cried} (Ariana Grande) [ The day you left me, an angel cried. ] // Because of You (Kelly Clarkson) [ I was so young, you should have known better than to lean on me. You never thought of anyone else, you just saw your pain, and now I cry in the middle of the night for the same damn thing. ] // human (Christina Perri) [ Your words in my head, knives in my heart, you build me up and then I fall apart 'cause I'm only human. ] // Illusion (Zedd feat. Echosmith) [ It feels like the fairytale is over. I really wanted these pages to begin with once upon a time like all those lullabies. I should've known better. ] // Cry (Kelly Clarkson) [ Is this as hard as it gets? Is this what it feels like to really cry? ] // drivers license (Olivia Rodrigo) [ Sidewalks we crossed. I still hear your voice in the traffic, we're laughing over all the noise. God, I'm so blue, know we're through, but I still fuckin' love you. ] // Until The Sun Comes Up (Gabrielle Aplin) [ Do you want to get lost? Go waste our time, lose this city skyline. Be so much better if you're by my side, find myself and lose my mind; think I need a moment to re-align. ] // Part Of Me (Katy Perry) [ Throw your sticks and your stones, throw your bombs and your blows but you're not gonna break my soul. ] // Love Not Loving You (Foxes) [ You were always giving me all of your insecurities. How could you do it? You knew what you were doing to me. ] // no tears left to cry (Ariana Grande) [ Right now, I'm in a state of mind I wanna be in like all the time, ain't got no tears left to cry. ]

you forgive, you forget, but you never let it go | spring 2021:

her classmates choice in the gym, and it’s aftermath additional tws: drowning (When the Storm is Over)

Bad Blood (Taylor Swift feat. Kendrick Lamar) [ Remember when you thought I'd take a loss? Don't you remember? You thought that I would need ya, follow procedure, remember? Oh, wait, you got amnesia. ] // Talking to Ghosts (Foxes) [ And I can be your guiding light if you just let me, but I can’t be your guiding light if you have left me. ] // When The Storm Is Over (Sofia Karlberg) [ But when it comes down something in the air says we're 'bout to drown. Baby, we wеren't meant for closure, tеll me when the storm is over. ] // Try (Colbie Caillat) [ You don't have to try so hard, you don't have to give it all away. You just have to get up, get up, get up, get up, you don't have to change a single thing ] // Still Have Me (Demi Lovato) [ So take my faith but 'least I still believe (I still believe, in me), and that's all I need. I don't have much but 'least I still have me. ]

and i don't really care if nobody else believes ‘cause i've still got a lot of fight left in me | early summer 2021:

the story of therapy, the start of recovery, learning to love oneself, and a little bit of romance.

Daisies - Acoustic (Katy Perry) [ They told me I was out there, tried to knock me down. Took those sticks and stones, showed 'em I could build a house. They tell me that I'm crazy, but I'll never let 'em change me 'til they cover me in daisies. ] // Home (Gabrielle Aplin) [ I'm a phoenix in the water, a fish that's learnt to fly. And I've always been a daughter but feathers are meant for the sky. ] // Change (Taylor Swift) [ ’Cause these things will change, can you feel it now? These walls that they put up to hold us back will fall down. ] // Dear Happy (Gabrielle Aplin) [ Don't you worry, oh no, don't be alarmed. I'm just working it out here, working it out here. I'm somebody with a recovering heart, you've waited there for me, keep waiting there for me. ] // Fight Song (Rachel Platten) [ And all those things I didn't say, wrecking balls inside my brain. I will scream them loud tonight, can you hear my voice this time? ] // Catch My Breath (Kelly Clarkson) [ Catching my breath, letting it go, turning my cheek for the sake of the show. Now that you know, this is my life, I won't be told what's supposed to be right. ] // Wildflowers (Elle Fanning) [ Wildflowers you brought me are crumbled in my hands. This love that you taught me, I still don't understand. ] // Begin Again (Taylor Swift) [ And for the first time, what's past is past. 'Cause you throw your head back laughing like a little kid, I think it's strange that you think I'm funny 'cause he never did. ] // Let's Sort The Whole Thing Out (Carly Rae Jepsen) [ I love you, this is a new thing. One more drink, let's get to the bottom of it. I love you, let's sort the whole thing out. ] // Youth (Foxes) [ And as we cross the line, these fading beats have all been severed. Don't tell me our youth is running out, it's only just begun. ] // Soft to Be Strong (MARINA) [ I took my bitterness and made it sweet, I took a broken heart and made it beat. ] // Way Less Sad (AJR) [ Don't you love it? Don't you lovе it? No, I ain't happy yet, but I'm way less sad. ]

#musings ( playlists ) #a dream is a wish your heart makes ( musings ) #eating disorder tw #abuse tw #child abuse tw #disownment tw #drugs tw #alcohol tw #drowning tw

[massivelycreepypineapple]

That Damn Video

Request: uh, hi !! um can i ask for a request ? maybe dean & sam are going through some old dvds of reader before she was hunter ( in her teens ) & in a video maybe reader was singing "bubble gum bitch" by marina & then fluffy dean 😌

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader, Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader (platonic)

A/N: Hope you enjoy this!! Damn this song is stuck in my head now! -.-

Feedback is welcome!

Word Count: 1721

❅ ❅ ❅

“What are you doing?” Asked Sam startling Dean.

“Ouch!” Came a muffled replied as Dean hit his head inside the wardrobe. He nearly had his entire body inside going through some things, grunting and groaning when Sam showed up out of the blue. He pulled his head out and glared at Sam. “Give a guy some warning, would you?”

“Well, you’d hear me coming if you weren’t busy trying to get inside the wardrobe.” Quipped Sam amused.

“I’m trying to make some space. It’s great that Y/N moved into my room, but damn she has a lot of things.”

Sam chuckled at that walking closer to take a look, “Need help?”

“Yes! These clothes are going to kill me!”

“Death by bra. Sounds about right for you.” Smirked Sam helping him with a box.

“Shuttup.”

Y/N and Dean have been dating for 6 months now and only a month ago, Y/N moved into Dean’s room. They wanted to take it slow and even if they lived together in the same place and loved each other, going back to their own rooms at the end of the day gave them that bit of space to get their heads straight. Dating while being a hunter never ended well and they agreed that slow was a nice way to start their relationship.

5 months later after Dean nearly died in a hunt, they decided that they didn’t have all the time in the world and they would rather spend every single second they got. With that, Y/N moved into his room. But with her came a buttload of things that took up so much of space and poor Dean soon found his clothes getting lost with hers. So when Y/N left to help Ellen and the girls with a hunt, Dean figured he’d reorganise their room and make it homely to the both of them.

“Hey what’s this?” Asked Sam holding a box of old dvds that he found hidden in the depths of the wardrobe.

Dean shrugged at it confused, “Never seen them before. Must be Y/N’s.”

“Oh my god, Dean. The box says home videos!” Sam grinned widely, noticing the other side of the box.

“Shit, we have got to watch these!” He grinned mischievously. He quickly snatched it out of his hands and walked out of the room, heading to the Dean cave.

“What about reorganising?” Sam followed him.

“Screw that! I got a feeling we just struck gold.”

They walked into the Dean cave. Dean was all giddy, barely able to control his glee as he put one of the dvds in. They got themselves comfortable as the video started.

It started with a 5yr old Y/N showing off her brand new dress. Her mom was recording her as she did her adorable version of a cat walk. She was giggling as her parents cheered her on. It was extremely cute

The boys kept going through the dvd and watched as Y/N grew older. They kept giggling and discussing how to embarrass her once she came back home. Midway Sam got up to make some popcorn and the boys agreed that watching adorable little Y/N and her shenanigans was better than any movie they could think of.

An hour into it, they put in the last dvd into the player and what they came across was by far the best thing they had ever seen.

A shy 12yr old Y/N with heavy make up and wearing a bright pink shiny jumpsuit came on screen.

“If you do this, we’ll go skiing this weekend.” Her mom’s voice was heard.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” She mumbled, face turning red.

“But you do it so well, baby. Now come on!”

Y/N rolled her eyes and her mom started the music in the background and handed her the mic. Soon Y/N began singing the most amazing song ever heard. She was doing it so well with the attitude, dance and everything. And then the chorus came, Y/N’s kid voice making it even better.

“I’m Miss Sugar Pink, liquor, liquor lips

Hit me with your sweet love, steal me with a kiss

I'm Miss Sugar Pink, liquor, liquor lips

I'm gonna be your bubblegum btch

I'm gonna be your bubblegum btch”

“Okay, I’m done!” Yelled Y/N. “I’m getting out of this stupid dress!”

“Aww come on! Just finish the song!”

“Moooom!”

“Hey, it’s your dad’s birthday gift, you know how much he loves this song. Especially when you sing it, baby.”

“I’m making him a card like a normal person.” Y/N grumbled and stomped away, making her mother laugh. The camera followed her for a bit before turning to her mom’s face who said, “Well, honey, I tried but your daughter is as stubborn as you.” Before cutting.

There was silence in the bunker when the video ended. Dean and Sam looked at each other in shock before bursting with laughter. Dean laughed so hard he fell off the couch.

“That’s the future mother of your child, Dean.” Laughed Sam clutching onto his stomach.

“I can’t believe she kept these videos from me!” Grinned Dean. “Oh man, she’s never going to live this down!”

__________

That evening Y/N came back from the hunt.

“Boys! I’m home!” She yelled coming down the stairs.

She dropped her bags at the bottom of the staircase and made her way to the kitchen. She could hear Sam and Dean talking in there. She walked in, smelling something delicious.

“Hey baby!” Greeted Dean

Y/N went up to him and wrapped her arms around him. He kissed her forehead and hugged her tight. “I’m glad you’re back and safe. Missed you.” He said.

“Missed you too. Something smells good.”

“I’m making lasagna. Your favourite.” He grinned proudly.

“You’re the best, baby” She grinned back.

“Get a room, guys.” Mumbled Sam.

“Love you too, Sam.” She smiled and hugged him too.

“How was the hunt?” He asked.

“It was a cake walk and I kicked some butt.” She smirked proudly.

“That’s my girl!” Cheered Dean

She took a seat beside Sam, exhausted from the hunt. As soon as she sat down Sam pulled out a pink box and offered it to you.

“Want some bubblegum, Y/N?” He asked keeping a straight face so she wouldn’t suspect anything.

“No thanks, Sam.”

“You sure?”

“Very.” She looked at him confused.

“Come on! Take one.” He insisted.

“Sam! What’s with you?” She glared at him.

“Don’t be a bubblegum btch, Y/N.” He looked at her pointedly, making Dean snort as he cooked.

“What?” She looked at them both suspiciously.

Sam simply shrugged at her and smiled innocently.

“Dean your brother is being weird again.” She said looking helplessly at Dean’s back.

“He came out all weird.” Dean chuckled. “But really, you sure you don’t wanna have some gum, Ms. Sugar Pink?

Sam lost it at that.

“W-where did you get that?” She asked looking wide eyed at him.

“Oh I don’t know” he said nonchalantly turning out and picking up the dvd from the counter. “Maybe something to do with this home video?”

She jumped out of the chair looking shocked. “Dean.” She started slowly. “Where did you find that?”

“Sammy found it in our wardrobe.” He grinned.

“WHY?! Just why Sam?! Why were you in our wardrobe?!” She glared at him.

“Hey!” Sam jumped to his defence. “Dean wanted help in reorganising the room!”

“What?!” She snapped at Dean.

“Yeah it was a mess, N/N. So I brought in Sam to help out, which by the way is still not done fyi. Anyway, we were going through the wardrobe and guess what was tucked away in the bottom under all those clothes?” He had a shit eating grin.

“Please don’t tell me you watched them all.”

“Oh Y/N, baby, of course we did!”

She groaned at that covering her face.

“You sure got the attitude for that song, N/N” Quipped Sam.

“You!” She pointed at Sam. “You shut up! And you!” She pointed at Dean. “You’re in so much trouble, Winchester!”

“Aww are you going ‘chew him up and spit him out’?” Mocked Sam laughing.

“Argh. It was a gag gift for my dad!” She looked at them helplessly.

“Yeah something like that was mentioned.” Smiled Dean genuinely.

“My mom had a very quirky sense of humour and I almost always ended being used for embarrassing stuff.” She mumbled.

“You were so adorable though.” Said Dean pulling her into his arms. He could tell that she was very embarrassed and felt a little bad about teasing her.

“Shuttup.” She mumbled into his chest.

“It’s true. You were a cute kid, Y/N” Smiled Sam, patting her shoulder.

“I can’t believe you two morons found it.” She fake glared at them again.

Sam grinned, “we’re very glad we did.” He then excused himself to go take a shower.

“I meant it though, you were very very adorable. And you nailed that song, baby” Dean grinned wrapping his arms around her waist.

She shrugged at him still embarrassed. “I actually wanted to be a singer when I was 12.”

“Really?!” He asked surprised.

“Yeah. But a year later my parents died and I got thrust into the hunter life when Bobby found me.” Y/N said looking down.

Dean lifted her chin up and kissed her hard, “I think you’d have made a great singer." He said making you giggle.

“I love you, Dean.”

“I love you too, Ms Sugar Pink.” He smirked, earning a smack on the chest.

____________

That night as they laid in bed with Y/N resting her head on his chest, Dean began humming to the song. He suddenly felt a smack on the forehead.

“Oww! What was that for?!”

“We will never speak of or sing this song again.” She said glaring at him.

“It’s a catchy song, N/N!”

“Never! And make sure that brother of yours keeps his mouth shut before I do it for him.”

“Fine, fine.” Dean sighed. “Man you really popped my bubblegum heart” He whispered 5 seconds later earning another smack.

❅ ❅ ❅

Tags Below

@hobby27 @akshi8278 @svmwinchesterr

#supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural x reader #spn #spn fic #spn x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #reader insert #female reader #y/n #fluff #dean x reader

[semperintrepida]

Spark Check

The truck's gas pedal had long been stomped to the floor when Kyra drummed her palms against its steering wheel and tried to coax a little more oomph out of its tired motor. "Come on," she pleaded.

Without her little Toyota, she couldn't have fled Portland and her on-again, off-again relationship with Thal. Their latest blow up had flipped them back to off-again, and this time she had to get away, get out of the city. She was sick of green — she wanted shades of brown: dust and sagebrush as far as her eye could see and sketch and paint. So she'd packed her things and headed for Oregon's high desert, the road taking her southeast into the Cascades, past Mount Hood, and into dense forest dotted with blue lakes.

But it seemed this was as far as her pickup could go, on a long climb up a mountain in the middle of nowhere. The truck had slowed to a crawl, and she pulled over as soon as the roadway widened enough for it to be safe.

"Fuck," she said into the silence.

She jumped out and popped the hood open. The smell of hot rubber and oil surrounded her, and she shook her head at the confusion of belts, cables, and tubing she found inside. Fuck. She'd seen three cars during the hours she'd spent on this road, and when she swiped her phone's screen awake, it showed no signal.

Breathe, Kyra. Think. She was okay for now. She had her backpacking gear, plenty of food and water. She could overnight here just fine. All she had to do was wait. She took another deep breath, then launched a psychic message into the universe: Please send someone to help me.

She glanced around. It was pretty here, at least, with a postcard view of a forested valley from the shoulder of a mountain. The light was decent, if a little harsh, but it wouldn't be long before the sun's angle changed and sent shadows knifing across the road.

All she could do was wait.

A few hours later, she was dozing in the front seat when she heard a far off sound: a deep, loping rumble that grew louder, quickly, into noise that slapped her ears as a dirtbike blew past her without stopping. She slumped back against her seat.

Then brake lights lit up, and the dirtbike made a sharp u-turn in the middle of the road and backtracked closer. Damn, she was kinda hoping for a minivan driven by a soccer mom. She was all by herself out here. But beggars couldn't be choosers, and she got out of the truck and stood by the hood and waited.

Her stomach knotted and her chest tightened as she watched the bike roll to a stop a little ways away. The bike's engine fell silent, and then its rider hopped off and approached her.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, face hidden behind a helmet and mirrored goggles, and his jersey and pants were patterned in brash splotches of black, blue, and yellow. He wore plastic armor slung over his chest, guards over his elbows, and chunky boots. He looked like some futuristic video game warrior.

The boots must have been stiff. He clomped gracelessly towards her while stripping his gloves off to reveal large hands, and then he reached up and unbuckled his helmet. He pulled it free, shook a long dark braid loose over his shoulder, and Kyra froze like a leaf in a cold snap as she realized the rider was a woman.

A fucking hot one, too.

It took Kyra a few moments to recover her poise. "Hi," she said, to keep things simple.

The woman was even hotter when she smiled. "Hey there." Her cheeks and forehead were coated in dust, but it only made the unusual color of her eyes more prominent. 'Brown' and 'hazel' didn't do them justice. They flicked away from Kyra and over to the truck's engine. "Trouble?"

"Yeah. We barely made it up this far."

"Huh. No power?"

Kyra sighed. "Not as much as it should, which isn't much to start with."

"Mind if I take a look?"

"Go right ahead."

The woman bent down to put her helmet on the ground, but Kyra held out a hand and said, "Here, give it to me."

It was lighter than Kyra expected, its dusty white shell covered in scratches and scuffs. She placed it carefully in the truck's front seat, and when she circled back to the engine, the woman had already starting taking things apart.

She held a rubbery cable up to her eye, murmuring to herself as she inspected it. "You got a tool kit?"

"No." Kyra's cheeks warmed. Probably not a great idea to be traveling through BFE without a tool box, but her pickup had never let her down before.

"I've got one that might work. And lucky for you, my bike's Japanese too."

Kyra wasn't sure what that had to do with anything, and she mulled it over as she watched the woman walk to her bike and open the small pack strapped across its tail. Maybe the Japanese had a different school of arcane engine knowledge than anyone else.

The woman returned soon enough, and unfurled a canvas roll of tools that reminded Kyra of the paintbrush case that sat with her art supplies in the passenger seat of her truck, a variety of implements lined up in a neat row. Then the woman was plunging the length of a socket into the engine, turning the wrench with strong hands, pulling it out.

A frisson of excitement shivered out from behind Kyra's eyes, down her spine, and into places between her legs. Her cheeks warmed again, and she ducked her head and hoped she'd gone unnoticed.

The woman tapped something out of the socket into the palm of her hand. A spark plug. She plugged it into the cable. "Let's give it a check. Can you start your truck?"

Kyra hurried off, glad to be given something to do. She moved the helmet aside and slid behind the wheel. "Ready?" she called out.

"Yeah. Go for it."

Kyra turned the key. The engine coughed over unhappily.

The woman's voice floated out from under the hood. "That's enough. Come on back."

When Kyra returned to the front of the truck, the woman held up the cable and said, "You've got a bad spark plug wire. And if one's going bad, the others are too."

Kyra winced. "Perfect." Her breath squeezed out from her, as if a load of sandbags had landed on her chest. If she couldn't get the truck running here, she'd have to get it towed — and she didn't have the money for something like that. She'd have to call Thal, beg him for help—

"Well, Detroit Lake's just down the road. Maybe twenty or thirty miles, but it's downhill the whole way. If you want, I can follow you to make sure you make it there, and then we can figure out what to do next."

That we made the weight on Kyra's chest lose a few pounds. "That sounds great," she said. "I really appreciate it."

"Happy to help."

She extended a hand. "I'm Kyra, by the way."

The woman set the wire down and wiped her hands on her jersey, leaving a dark smudge of grease behind. It would stain if someone didn't soak it in detergent first before washing. She shook Kyra's hand with a firm grip. "Kassandra," she said, along with another smile. "Nice to meet you."

She put the truck back together in short order, and then she was pulling on her helmet and saying, "I'll pass you when we get close to town and you can follow me in." Kyra climbed back into her truck, buckled her seat belt, and tried the key. The engine fired up on her third attempt, and Kyra sighed with relief to be moving again with a clear plan ahead.

It took an hour to coast down that narrow and winding road, and once they reached Detroit Lake, Kassandra led her to a rustic-looking resort nestled among giant trees. The dirtbike came to a stop in front of a small cabin, and Kyra parked alongside it.

While Kyra locked her truck and walked to the steps up to the cabin's porch, Kassandra pushed the bike up the porch's ramp and parked it next to the front door. Kyra waited on the steps as Kassandra removed her gloves and helmet.

"Back to civilization, safe and sound," Kassandra said.

Kyra nodded. "And I owe it all to you." She supposed the tiny gas station across the road counted as civilization. It did have a pay phone.

Awkward silence. Kassandra straightened her braid over her shoulder. "Well, then." Her hands played with the straps on her helmet.

"Can I buy you dinner?"

She looked surprised. "You don't have to do that."

Was she being careful for a reason? Maybe she was taken, and there was someone waiting for her in that cabin. But she was too damn gorgeous for Kyra not to try again. "I insist," she said, letting an amused grin sneak across her lips. "I'm starving, anyway, and you did say we'd figure out what to do next."

Kassandra's hesitation was brief. "All right, then," she said. "But let me change out of"— a gesture at herself —"this, first."

When she emerged from the cabin a few minutes later, her face and neck were damp and she was wearing a grey t-shirt and jeans and a worn pair of work boots. The shirt was tight enough to jolt Kyra's clit wide awake: Kassandra had muscles for days, in the long lines of her forearms, the swell of her biceps, and the curve of her shoulders into honest-to-God traps framing her neck. Generous lips smiled and her eyes sparkled with amusement as she asked, "Are you all right?"

Kyra suddenly wanted nothing more than to kiss those lips while running her hands over the washboard abs she knew were hiding under that t-shirt. She swallowed hard and tried not to wriggle out of her skin with want. "I'm fine, yeah."

Kassandra eyed her for a moment. "There's a decent place to eat, up the highway a bit," she said.

Kyra gestured for her to lead the way. Far safer than opening her mouth.

The hamlet of Detroit was bigger than Kyra expected. A marina full of houseboats sprawled by the lakeside, and a handful of shops stood in a cluster a short distance from the cars hurtling up and down the highway.

A few minutes later, they arrived at a building that wore the facade of a hunting lodge, with weathered clapboard siding and a dozen chromed-out motorcycles parked in front. There was probably a deer head mounted on the wall inside.

There was a deer's head mounted on the wall inside, a great big rack of antlers spread above the stone fireplace. They sat, ordered drinks — beer for Kyra and a Jack-and-Coke for Kassandra — and fussed with place settings.

"You come in from Estacada?" Kassandra asked her.

"No, I spent last night camping at Timothy Lake."

Kassandra smiled. "I love it up there. It's gorgeous, and the riding's perfect."

"Is that what you're here for?"

"Yeah, I've got a few days between assignments. My crew just got back from three weeks in Tahoe."

"What do you do?"

"I'm a firefighter." Of course she was. Something must have escaped Kyra's expression because Kassandra grinned at her and added, "Wildland, not the firetrucks, ladders, and dalmatians kind. I work on a Hotshot crew based out of Redmond."

"Hotshot?"

"We work the toughest parts of a forest fire, without any other support. And we direct a lot of the action around us. We go where others can't."

"So you're good at what you do, then."

"I'm very good at what I do." And she had the confidence to match.

They were still smirking at each other when the waitress returned with their drinks. They ordered food. Handed over menus. Kyra excused herself to wash up, and when she came back to their table, Kassandra was staring out the window, showing off a profile so perfect it should have been struck on coins like royalty.

"So what do you do?" Kassandra asked her as she sat down.

"I don't, really." Kyra fought back her embarrassment. Very attractive, not having a job. No, she did work at something — it just didn't pay. Yet.

Kassandra's eyebrow raised.

"I'm an artist."

"Oh yeah? What kind?"

"I paint, mostly." She was acutely aware of Kassandra's silent scrutiny. She sipped her beer and kept talking. "Small studies in acrylics, for now. I'm chasing that perfect light."

"Perfect light?"

"Yeah. You know, after sunrise, or before sunset. That golden glow?"

Kassandra nodded.

"It's so perfect it's a cliché. But I'm interested in other kinds of perfection: rays of sunlight moving ahead of a rainstorm, or light passing through ocean waves. Things like that."

"Lots of that around here."

Their eyes met. "Lots of beauty around here, too," Kyra said.

Under the table, Kassandra's leg jerked.

The food arrived just in time to distract them. Kassandra dug into a steak — rare — and an enormous salad. "I eat nothing but processed food and MREs while I'm on assignment," she explained. "The other six months of the year, I eat every vegetable in sight while doing odd jobs to make ends meet. Construction. Fabrication. That sort of thing."

So Kassandra knew about the gig life. "I usually end up finding work as a barista to pay the bills," Kyra said between forkfuls of potatoes au gratin. "I like slinging coffee well enough, but what I really want is to get paid for my paintings."

"A worthy goal."

"I've sold a few here and there, but I can't get my foot in the door of any galleries." She shrugged. "I'm not making the work I want to be, and it shows, I think."

"What's stopping you?"

"Money. Oil paints and canvas get expensive at large scale. I want to paint like J. C. Dahl or Bierstadt did. Huge canvases. Big views. When you look at one of my landscapes, I want you to feel like you could lose yourself in it." She scraped her fork through the remnants of potato on her plate. "But that kind of neo-luminism isn't exactly burning up the auction houses these days. I'd be better off learning how to paint with a spray can and a stencil." She gave Kassandra an apologetic smile. "And look at me, boring you with all this talk about my nonexistent career."

"I'm not bored. It's just that everything I know about art went into the finger paintings I made when I was in grade school."

Kyra laughed. "Well, I don't know a single thing about fighting fire, so I won't hold it against you."

"At least we've got something in common."

"What's that?"

"You make sacrifices to do what you love. You live with the uncertainty, and I bet you know how to make a dollar go a long way." She smiled faintly. "I know... because I do the same."

"Maybe you can give me some tips on dealing with the uncertainty part," Kyra said. That was what was hardest, not having control of her life, not having a plan.

"Ask away, if there's something you want to know."

There were a lot of things about Kassandra that Kyra wanted to know, but she steered the conversation in a lighter direction, and the second round of drinks became a third while their knees kept brushing under the table, and the biker gang peeled out of the parking lot with a cloud of exhaust and noise, and the shadows grew long across the highway.

"Sun's going to set soon," Kassandra said. "Where were you planning to stay tonight?"

"I was hoping to make it to Bend today, but that plan's been shot to hell. And I bet there aren't any vacant hotels around here."

"Not this time of year. I got lucky finding this room — someone bailed on a reservation." She slid her empty glass back and forth on the table in front of her, as if the coaster was a raft she was guiding through rapids.

"Looks like I'm sleeping in the canopy of my truck, then. Wouldn't be the first time."

Kassandra's glass lurched to a stop. "Tell you what. You're welcome to crash in my room tonight. We can take my truck in to Stayton in the morning, find you some new spark plugs and wires. You'll be back on the road well before noon." She'd said it in a rush, as if she'd reached a chute in the rapids and had no choice but to follow it on down.

Kyra breathed in slowly. It wouldn't do to seem too eager. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Then I'm grateful for the help."

They bickered gently over the check, when it came; Kyra wanting to pay the whole thing like she'd promised, and Kassandra insisting on covering her share. Kyra sensed her digging in, unwilling to cross some line of propriety she'd set for herself, and so Kyra relented. There were too many hills around her for all of them to be ones to die on.

On the walk back to the cabin, Kassandra told her about a wildfire she'd worked not far from here, felling trees and digging fireline along a ridge in a forest dried-out from years of drought, the flames in the canyon below burning so intensely that the heat had created its own thunderstorm right above it. She'd dug and dug, rain and hail pelting her hard hat while bright blue skies stretched behind her all the way to Mount Hood on the horizon.

"That sounds... beautiful and terrifying," Kyra said as Kassandra opened the door to the cabin and gestured her inside.

"It's often both, yeah."

The room wasn't large, but the bed was. Bed in the singular. Kyra kept her smirk internal.

A small sofa sat across from the bed, a TV hid in the corner, and two doorways led to rooms unknown. Wood paneling on the walls, simple wooden furniture. Kassandra's belongings were organized neatly in an open wardrobe.

Kassandra made a beeline for the sofa. She plopped down onto it, stretched her arms out to both sides. Her arm span was wider than the sofa was. "I'll sleep here." She bounced up and down, ignoring the dire creaking of its springs.

"This is your room."

She shrugged, then leaned forward so her elbows rested on her knees. "So? You're my guest."

"You're six feet tall and that sofa's the size of a postage stamp. I'll sleep on it before you do." Kyra crossed her arms. "But really, there's no reason why we can't share the bed."

Kassandra had started twisting her fingers together; locking them in place, breaking them apart. "I can't have you thinking that I brought you here because I'm wanting something from you, for helping you with your truck. I'll sleep right here. It's fine."

Kyra had to shoot her shot, right now, or she'd end up sleeping in that big bed all alone. "Maybe I'm wanting something from you."

Troubled eyes looked up. God, she was gorgeous. "I... " she started. Stopped. And Kyra's heart sank. This is when Kassandra would tell her she was taken, that she had someone back home to soak those grease stains out of her jersey, to worry about her when she was working a fire, to—

"I was hoping you'd say something like that," Kassandra said softly.

Kyra took her by the hand, pulled her to her feet, and then Kyra slid her palms along the undersides of Kassandra's forearms. Heavy. Solid, like bronze. But that was the color of Kassandra's eyes, and when Kyra kissed her it was like a circuit closing like an arc lamp turning night into day like a quality of light she'd never seen before but knew she'd be chasing the rest of her life.

When they parted, Kyra was breathless, and she tucked her face into the curve of Kassandra's neck, feeling the steady cadence of her breathing. "Kassandra?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm so glad you didn't turn out to be some redneck."

Kassandra's laugh filled the room, and she gathered Kyra's face in her hands and looked at her. "Honestly, when I saw your rig, I was expecting some dried-up gold miner with shaggy hair and missing teeth."

"You thought wrong, Bubba."

Kassandra laughed again. Kissed her again. But when Kyra's hands strayed down to her belt, she pulled away. "Hey, slow down there, forty-niner. I'm pretty sure I have dust in unmentionable places."

"Do you really think I'd let a little dust get in the way of working my claim?" She reached for Kassandra again.

Her paydirt maneuvered away a second time. "I kinda want to take a shower..."

She waited for the rest.

"Think you might like to join me?"

She answered by curling her fingers around Kassandra's belt, and she glanced about the room, considering her doorway options.

"That way," Kassandra murmured along with a tilt of her head.

She pulled Kassandra to the bathroom, each step driving her to even giddier heights. Was this even happening right now?

Kassandra flipped the lights on. Clean, white tile and a matching shower. Nicer than Kyra had expected.

"This could either be really awkward or really hot," Kassandra said.

"You think this'll be awkward?" Kyra smirked and reached for Kassandra. There was no hiding in this light, no place for anything but want and confidence, and Kyra found her confidence in wanting to get Kassandra naked. Kassandra's t-shirt and sports bra ended up getting tossed in a corner, and then Kyra couldn't resist, she just had to kiss Kassandra while her hands found leather and metal to unbuckle, and she pushed fabric down over hips and thighs until Kassandra kicked it all free and stood naked before her in full glory.

Oh my God. Not only did Kassandra have muscles for days, she had them for weeks and months and years. Her proportions were perfect, in the horizontal of her shoulders to hips and the vertical of her torso to legs. Kyra's mouth went dry, her moisture draining to places south of her waist.

Kassandra flashed a rakish grin, then stepped into the shower, turning knobs while Kyra waited. Water jetted against tile with a loud hiss. Kassandra seemed to take a very long time — or maybe that was Kyra's thirst wringing out the clock in its search for droplets of satisfaction — but when Kassandra finally came back, she undressed Kyra with a touch both careful and reverent, her eyes drinking in the sight of Kyra's skin with every slow reveal.

Heat burned between Kyra's legs. Steam filled the bathroom. Her clothes joined the pile in the corner, and Kassandra's hands came to rest on her hips. She reached for Kassandra's braid, untied it, and worked the thick mane loose — along with a puff of dust.

Kassandra truly was covered in it, in streaks running down her steam-dampened skin. Kyra laughed and traced her finger through the grime between Kassandra's breasts, then drew an X on Kassandra's stomach. The hands on her hips shifted, nudging her towards the shower until she stood basking under its pleasantly hot spray.

The pressure was good: in the stream of water and the feel of Kassandra's hands on her skin. Calloused palms scratched and tickled the sides of her breasts, and she wriggled away, prompting an insincere "Sorry" as Kassandra played with her, alternating soft strokes from her fingertips with rougher ones from her palms.

Kyra bit back her want, slipped out of Kassandra's grasp, and said, "Your turn."

As Kassandra stood under the water, Kyra enjoyed the way it beaded over her skin, the way she glistened in the light. Then looking wasn't enough, and Kyra had to sample Kassandra's broad shoulders, the firm planes of her chest, the soft weight of breasts and plump nipples so different than a man. She smelled different too, none of that tang that men always had about them. It had been too long since Kyra had been with a woman, and Kassandra was showing her how foolish that was.

Kyra pulled Kassandra closer, pressed her up against the wall, and kissed her. Wet lips, water in her mouth, soft slick tongue. She was delicious, and Kyra grew greedy, wanting more more more as she ran her hands over sculpted abs and slid them lower—

That earned her hands a playful slap from Kassandra. "Ah, ah, ah. Hands off. I don't want to be distracted," she said, as she snagged the soap from a niche in the shower wall.

She knew exactly what she was doing, making Kyra wait, making Kyra watch as she soaped her skin and scrubbed it into a lather, making Kyra thirst while surrounded by water as she washed her hair. Her shampoo had the fresh, airy smell of citrus. It filled the shower, wrapped Kyra in its enticing steam.

This was a fierce kind of want. She scowled, snatched up the shampoo bottle, washed her hair as Kassandra emerged from the water clean and magnificent. The sight was too much; she turned her back to Kassandra as she rinsed herself. But as the last of the suds swirled down the drain, Kassandra's hands gently turned her around and soaped her from head to toe and she forgot everything except the hand slipping over her belly into the crease of her hip, slipping between her thighs, so close to where she needed, hovering without touching, moving from thigh to thigh—

"Fuck," she gasped.

"Is that what you want?" Kassandra asked. Her smirking grin was an inch away from Kyra's lips.

Kyra stared daggers at her.

"Sorry, you'll have to wait a bit longer," she said, and then she carefully rinsed Kyra clean. It was thorough, and luxurious, and melted Kyra's pique into forgiveness. She closed her eyes and her muscles went soft and pliant under Kassandra's hands, and she felt herself being guided out of the shower. She stood in the middle of the bathroom, waiting. Kassandra moved away. Kassandra came back. She rubbed Kyra down with a fluffy towel, wrapped her in it, then picked her up with breathtaking ease and carried her to the bed.

The length of Kassandra's body settled against hers. Dangerous weight. She could pin Kyra down, crush her with all that muscle. The towel bloomed open. Goosebumps sprouted across damp skin. The only illumination in the room came from the light in the bath. It snuck past the drape of Kassandra's hair and threw shadows across her face, and her eyes captured the sparks of want passing between them.

All that muscle on top of her, mouth at her throat, hands on her hips. Kyra's want buzzed and flickered, like a spotlight warming up. Now, find out now. She fit her thigh up between Kassandra's legs, pressed hard. A gasp from above. Kyra's heartbeat doubled-up, and there was no stopping her leg twining around Kassandra's. "Roll over." A demand, not a question.

Kassandra blinked, tilted her head as she searched Kyra's face. The sparks in her eyes danced. Really?

Yes, really. Kyra shifted her weight, used her leg as a pivot... and felt Kassandra yield.

All that muscle moved beneath her, hips made to be straddled, shadowed curves meant to be explored. Kyra's blood pulsed with an illicit thrill as she leaned forward. Skin pressing together. Breasts nestling together. Damp heat, water turning to sweat.

She kissed Kassandra, tasted her hunger, her soft mouth opening to let Kyra in. No games and no playing hard to get. Her want, Kyra's want, their want speaking in tongues. Kassandra's fingers tangled in her hair. That mouth should be on her clit. Those fingers should be inside her.

Wait. Wait longer. She sucked at Kassandra's lower lip, raked it with her teeth, apologized with her tongue. She pulled her mouth away, smiled as Kassandra groaned and stirred, muscles bunching, eyes burning like carbon filaments, captive and captivated. Kyra moved her mouth lower: the silvery scar on Kassandra's chin, the rapid pulse at her throat, the wings of her collarbones. Lower, until her lips found the soft swell of a breast, the nipple she could persuade to grow harder with teasing lips and tongue. First one, then the other. And Kassandra's back arched: Yes.

How sweet of her to offer. Kyra slid off to the side, surveying the chiaroscuro of the exposed planes of Kassandra's body. Choices, choices. Kassandra's spectacular abs, or the inviting shadows between her thighs?

Both. Kyra was getting greedy again. She ran her tongue along the sculpted grooves of Kassandra's stomach and slid her hand into soft curls. Swollen heat. Desire soaking her fingers, satisfying in a way arousing a man never was. And making this particular woman so wet... She smiled and drifted her mouth lower, tasted her own desire in a trail she'd left on Kassandra's belly, and her clit was bright and burning and her ache went deep, wanting to be fucked, wanting to fuck.

She stroked slick fingers everywhere but the places Kassandra wanted. Hard to be so patient, when every touch felt like it reflected back at her, teasing and being teased. She was dripping. Kassandra was dripping, her body twisting restlessly in a tangle of sheets and towels. Kyra stopped moving. Her fingertips hovered, waiting. And Kassandra's hips lifted: More.

Kyra's mouth was almost too close to Kassandra's clit. It tempted her, nestled in dark, feathery curls, proud and swollen and hard. That was Kyra's doing. She'd made that happen. Hard not to let that surge of power go straight to her clit, and she closed her eyes against the bright flare of her own need.

Focus. Come back. Breathe in air heavy with warm, damp arousal. Breathe it out across Kassandra's sensitive flesh. Kassandra squirmed under her cheek and let out a frustrated moan.

That sound was pleasing, and she dipped the tips of her fingers into silky wetness. The tiniest taste, no more. Kassandra's moans grew louder. Kyra's blood beat in her ears. So easy, capturing Kassandra's full attention in the spotlight of her breath and the smallest movements of her fingertips.

Wait. Move slowly. Kassandra's muscles corded and strained, and Kyra wound them tighter and tighter with every touch. All that strength in thrall to her fingers — the rush lifted Kyra to stratospheric heights. She could glide on it, never come down. She lost all track of time in the artificial, unchanging light. How long had she kept Kassandra like this? How long could she?

Beneath her, Kassandra was panting with her thighs spread wide. She rocked her hips, chasing Kyra's fingers, and Kyra made her fail again and again. Her attempts grew half-hearted. She gave up trying.

This was Kassandra primed like a canvas: body taut beyond trembling, senses tuned to Kyra, clit starved for attention.

Kassandra's sounds devolved into one long, unbroken whimper. And then, finally, Kyra went to work, sucking Kassandra into her mouth and easing her fingers all the way inside.

Nothing fancy: steady strokes, tongue on clit, the way women have been getting each other off since ancient times. She'd already tested Kassandra's patience at least that long.

Kassandra whispered Yes and Fuck to guide her. Kassandra angled her hips just so. Kassandra snapped at the point of release with a sudden growl, her hands grabbing fistfuls of bedsheets as she writhed, lost in pleasure.

Kassandra throbbed against her tongue and pulsed around her fingers and Kyra lay there not moving not wanting to move in the golden glow, wanting it to stay wanting to capture it and keep it.

But it faded, eventually. She slid up the bed and rested her head on Kassandra's shoulder and smiled for a long, long time.

"I'll be damned," Kassandra said quietly, once she caught her breath. "Is that how you always say thank you?"

"When I'm feeling inspired."

"You really are an artist."

Kyra smirked. No matter how the rest of their time together played out, she'd always have the memory of Kassandra writhing around her fingers.

The mattress compressed as Kassandra knelt above her. Kassandra rested a hand on her belly, and though there was no weight behind it, it pinned Kyra right to the bed.

"Well," Kassandra said. "You certainly set the bar high, honey. But it's my turn now."

Kyra opened her arms wide and gave Kassandra her dirtiest come-hither look. "Show me what you've got, hotshot."

Kassandra smiled, and did.

Part of the Heat Index...

#kyssandra #kassandra #ac odyssey #shameless smut #plot what plot #wildland firefighter kassandra #there was only one bed #kyra's on top #tropetacular but i dun curr #heat index #once upon a time #i may have been riding my dirtbike on this road #when i came across a hot lady firefighter with a broken down truck #alas that encounter did not end like this story did #bc i was on my way to meet up with a riding buddy #but man what perfect writing fuel that experience was

[todorokiaimee]

Dopamine Chapter 5

Previous Chapter

“Hey, Sero! Thanks for hosting tonight,” Kirishima said as he pulled an ice-cold beer out of the fridge. “It’s been a long time since we had a guys night.”

Sero nodded as he looked over the Uno cards in his hand. “No problem dude. I’m always happy to pull you away from your old ball and chain.”

“Well, Marina and I are still a while off from the wedding.” Kirishima chuckled as he rejoined the game, the guys all gathered around Sero’s kitchen table.

 “Fuck, don’t get him talking about Fish Sticks,” Bakugou grumbled.  “He’ll never shut up.” Kirishima’s fiancé Marina had always rubbed Bakugou the wrong way but even he couldn’t deny the fact that they were made for each other. That fact aside, he still refused to call her by name. 

 “Speaking of little ladies…” The redhead smirked, before playing his card down on the pile. “Bakugou! Would you be so kind as to give us an update on your mystery woman?”

It had been a few days since Bakugou and Jada’s date.  The blonde couldn’t deny the chemistry between them, but he was resigned to keep things casual for now. Love and hero work just didn’t mix. It’s only a distraction and gives your enemies something to use against you. Even so, he couldn’t get the dark-skinned beauty out of his mind ever since he first laid his eyes on her.

“Mystery woman?” Kaminari questioned as he played a draw 2 card. “The one he ditched us for on Mina’s birthday?”

“The one and the same,” Kirishima smirked, turning toward his friend. “Spill dude.” 

Bakugou scoffed, playing his turn. “I don’t kiss and tell boys.”

 “Boo you whore!” Kaminari laughed. 

“We need to know more about the chick that effectively pulled you out of the booty call business.” Sero pushed as he took a drink of his beer.

 I’m pretty sure I’m her booty call. But not for long. “I don’t owe you guys shit.”

“Can we get a name a least?”

“It’s Jada!” Kirishima confessed with a toothy grin.

 “Jada!” Kaminari cooed. “First name basis already?! Things are getting serious!”

Bakugou only shrugged, drinking his beer. “She’s American so... not really.”

 “Oh American!” Sero quirked a brow, laying down his card. “Taking a page out of Todoroki’s book, huh?” He smirked, sure he’d get a rise out his friend.

“I’m nothing like fucking Half n Half!” The ash-blonde barked.

“You don’t know what you’re missing with these American girls, Sero.” Kirishima smiled, laying down a wild card.  “They’re so bold. Jada certainly isn’t letting Bakugou off easy. Oh, and I pick Blue.” 

“Ooof I love it when they play hard to get,” The electric hero groaned, biting his lip. “Only makes me want them more.”

“We know.” The rest of the gang deadpanned. 

Sero shook his head as Kaminari played a reverse card. “You went after Jiro for a solid 3 years before you got wise.”

“Oh, Jiro…,” Denki sighed lovingly. “The one that got away. I really thought we had an unspoken thing.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes with a grunt. “She was fucking gay you twat!” 

“Well, I know that now! Also, can we talk about how hot she and YaoMomo are together? I mean damn.”

 “I thought we were grilling Bakugou?” Kirishima interjected, playing a draw 4 card.

“Yeah,” Sero agreed, picking up his cards before playing his turn. “You’re not off the hook yet. Tell us!” 

“Fuckin weirdos.” Bakugou hummed, leaning back in his chair. He never liked to talk about his exploits but he took pity on the guys. He was the only one of them actually dating besides Kirishima and his almost married stories were just a mushy love fest. “You know I only like the best so…” He smirked, looking around the room as his friends waited in anticipation. “She has this crazy body… like stacked. Legs for days. Piercings. Green eyes and smooth dark skin…” 

“American and Black?” Kaminiari interrupted. “I sense a pattern here.” Sero shushed him, urging Bakugou to continue.

“She’s smart too. She fixed my gauntlet with just tools in her purse,” He chuckled, remembering her tinkering on his gauntlet with ease. “She’s unpredictable. Whenever I think she’s gonna go right, she goes left. It drives me fucking crazy but there’s something about her.” He paused, stroking the stubble of his beard as he mumbled. “She’s just different.” 

The room fell silent as they looked at their explosive friend in awe until Kirishima finally said what they all were thinking. “Dude. You’re gushing. Like actually gushing about a girl.” He paused as a huge grin pulled at his lips. “You’re catching feelings!”

“The fuck I am!”

“Yes, you are! Ask me how I know.”

“I swear to God if you bring up Marina again I will--”

“You just called her Marina!” Kirishima laughed as his friend let loose a small explosion in his hardened face. 

“Don’t be shy, dude,” Sero teased.  “It’s about time actually. We were getting worried about you.”

“Shut up!” Bakugou grumbled. “Let’s get back to the game.”

“Okay, let’s hurry this up because I’m ready to move onto phase two of the night,” Kaminari said as he played another reverse card. 

“What’s phase two?” The redhead asked as he played a reverse card back to Kaminari.

“It’s a surprise!”

“I’m probably gonna hate it but fine.” Bakugou huffed.

“Uno!” The electric hero cheered as he played yet another reverse card.

“Fuck!” Bakugou yelled as he looked over to his guilty-looking redheaded friend. “Shitty hair if you play another reverse I’m going to reverse your existence.”

“I’m sorry! That’s all I can play!” He grimaced as he laid down the card.

“And a wild card for the win!” Kaminari boasted, laying down his last card. “Fork it over bitches!”

The men all groaned as they took out their wallets, each tossing 10k yen onto the table. “Why were we playing and betting on fucking Uno anyway?” Bakugou mumbled.

“Because Denki doesn’t know how to play poker.” Sero huffed.

Kirishima chuckled. “Well, it worked out fine for him I guess…”

“Okay, it’s time for phase two!” Kaminari said as he pocketed the money. “We’re going to the strip club! I’m gonna take your money and make it rain!“

__________________________________________________________________________

Filing out of the uberX, the boys made their way to a seemingly everyday luxury building, Denki talking over his shoulder, “Guys you are going to love this place. It’s called The Secret Garden. Super classy and discrete.”

Sero laughed as he pulled out his ID, walking up to the bouncer at the door. “Dude all I need to know is are the girls hot?”

“Well duh.” The electric hero chuckled. “My girl Tiffany can throw it back.”

 “I should probably call Marina and tell her the change of plans,” Kirishima mumbled apologetically as he took out his cell phone.

“Heh. Pussy.” Bakugou jeered as his friend stepped away to call his fiancé. 

It was then that Kaminari looked amongst his friends as they all took turns showing their IDs. “Everybody’s got cash money, right? The ladies do not take cards. I found that out the hard way.” With an affirmation from the rest of the crew, Kirishima returned to the group, pocketing his cell phone. 

“What did Fish Sticks say?” Bakugou asked the redhead with a smug smirk. “Do you have to go crawling back home with your dick between your legs?”

“She’s cool,” he shrugged. “She said I could browse the menu as long as I don’t order anything.” 

“No lap dances for you then.” Sero laughed.

 “That’s cool,” Denki said with a bright smile, leading everyone inside. “The main stage is where the best girls dance anyway.”

As the men made their way up to the mainstage of the club, Bakugou took a moment to gauge his surroundings. There was mellow house music pumping through the speakers has men and even a few women sat around in comfy chairs as gorgeous scantily clad women danced sensually on top of them or just talked with them seemingly enjoying their company. Strip clubs always made Bakugou vaguely uncomfortable but he couldn’t put his finger on just why. Maybe it was just the very public nature of traditionally intimate activities. It didn’t matter anyway, there was no way he was going to be seen as the prude of the group. 

The group of friends all sat down around the edge of the main stage, each pulling out a healthy wad of cash to prepare for their first dance. Denki however, took it a step further as per usual. The hero pulled out a money gun, eagerly loading it up with his Uno winnings from earlier that night. As the others rolled their eyes at their eccentric friend, a petite pink-haired woman dressed in a frilly lace baby doll set walked up to the man with a sweet smile. “Mr. Kaminari welcome back! It’s been so long since you last came to play with us.” Sakura cooed as she batted her lashes. 

“Princess! Good to see you! I’m sorry it’s been a while. Duty calls.” Denki smirked as he flexed his biceps, not so subtly. “Tiffany should be performing on the main stage tonight, right?”

“Umm, how many times have you been here?” Kirishima whispered to his electric friend.

“Sorry hun,” Sakura apologized. “She called in sick tonight. But my girl Nubia is about to go on. She always puts on an amazing show.” 

“Nubia, huh?” Denki hummed as he scratched his chin. “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of watching her dance. This should be fun!”

Bakugou sighed as he stood up from his seat. “I’m gonna go get a beer.” The man made his way back to the bar, the bartender taking his order as the lights on the mainstage went out, a woman crossing the floor. He hummed as he paid for his drink taking a sip as the MC’s voice rang through the speakers.

“Welcome back to the main stage our exotic beauty and tonight your faithful assistant, Nubia!”

As the lights lifted, Bakugou watched from the bar as the dancer stood on stage, her back to the audience. Dressed in tight office attire, she tossed random papers into the air as James Brown’s “It’s a Man’s World” played throughout the club. (https://youtu.be/ilMV5tu9bcQ)

And then she turned around. 

No. Fucking. Way. The explosive hero nearly choked on his beer as he stared. He knew those dark locs and green eyes anywhere. The woman on stage was in fact, Jada Jackson. 

He continued to watch from afar as she twirled around the pole to the music, slowly peeling off articles of clothing until she was left in a silver bra and thong set. He clenched his fists as he seethed watching her long legs wave in the air, her curves on full display. This can’t be happening. Bakugou willed himself to stay calm as his friends cheered her on, cursing under his breath as she finally rid herself of her metallic bra, leaving her chest bare to the world. It was then that Jada crawled across the stage floor, right up to his friends staring in awe. 

Jada smirked as she went up to the blonde who had been very enthusiastic, shooting yen bills onto the stage with his money gun. Kaminari practically drooled as his eyes flicked from her full breasts to her green eyes and back again, “Good God, where have you been all my life?”

“Waiting for you, sweetheart,” Jada breathed as she moved her body seductively, her eyes flicking to the large wad of cash in his hand. “Is that for me?”

“Uh-huh!”

“Then slide it in, baby.” She smirked as she stretched out the band of her thong. Denki eagerly slipped the stack of bills into the band as she let out a lewd moan followed by a delighted giggle. “I love a nice thick one.” 

Denki gulped, exploring all the possibilities in his mind. “Let me take you away from all this…” 

Next, Jada turned her gaze to Sero, a nervous smile plastered across his face. “Look at that smile. Aren’t you a cutie.”

“T-thank you, ma’am.” He stuttered as he put his cash tip into her thong band as well.

“So polite. Thank you, sir.” Jada gave him a wink before crawling over to her next target, Kirishima. She giggled to herself as she knelt on her knees before him, his eyes refusing to look anywhere below her neck. “Someone looks a little shy.”

“Heh yeah… maybe a bit.” He chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck timidly. 

“Relax, honey. I don’t bite.” She purred as Kirishima laughed, showing off his pointy pearly whites. “Oh. But maybe you do.” Jada breathed as she came up with an idea. “I think I’d like these chompers right… here.” Just then, the ravenette grabbed his head, pulling his face into her large breasts, giving them a shimmy for added effect. 

THE FUCK?! Bakugou couldn’t believe his eyes. He silently seethed as he chugged his beer. Here was his girl, the woman he had invested so much time and energy on, and his friends are ogling her freely. His palms popped and sparked as he crushed his beer can in his fist as Jada finished her dance, collecting her clothes and tips before disappearing into the back. The hero stomped back up to the stage with his eyes filled with rage, Denki taking notice of his friend.

“Dude! You missed the whole dance! I think I just met my future wife.”

“Shut the fuck up Kaminari.” Bakugou practically spat, as he walked up to another dancer. “Oi! The girl that was just on stage. When is she coming back out?”

The woman looked him up and down before giving the hero a playful smirk. “You want a dance, baby? I’d be happy to help you out.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” He said dismissively. “When is Ja- Nubia coming back out?”

“I’ll go get her.”

The dancer turned on her heel with a sigh before walking backstage and into the dressing room. “Hey, Jada?” She looked around the small crowded area quickly finding the dark-skinned beauty amongst her fairer colleagues. 

“Yeah?” She asked as she fixed her makeup. 

“You got a request for a dance.”

“Really?” Jada mumbled, a smile pulling at her plump lips.  “Must be my lucky night. I got some great tippers stageside tonight. Was it the skinny blonde one with the black streak in his hair?”

“No it was a blonde but he had a spikey undercut… super buff too.” The dancer hummed as she played with her hair. “Nasty attitude though so I would be careful. Should I tell Tanaka to keep an eye on him?”

“NO!” Jada yelled before quickly recovering, “Um I mean, I got it. I’ll be right out, just let me change into a new set.”

After quickly changing into a new navy bra and pantie set, Jada nervously made her way back onto the club floor, praying to whoever would listen. Please don’t be him. Please don’t be him. Please don’t be him. She held her breath as she looked around the room, a pair of ruby red eyes locking with hers instantly. Fuck it is him. Her heart dropped into her stomach as the ash-blonde walked up to her, practically steaming. “Hi handsome, you want a dance?”

“You’re just gonna act like everything’s fine? Really?” Bakugou fumed. “Were you ever gonna tell me?!”

“Okay! Sounds like you want a private dance! Follow me to the champagne room, sir.”

With a flip of her long dark locs, Jada led Bakugou out across the floor, his friends quickly taking notice. He ignored their cheers for what they thought would be a seductive dance at his request. Instead, their hoots and hollers only fueled his rage even more. Once inside the ultra-private champagne room, Jada was the first one to speak. “I can explain.”

“This should be rich, Dimples.”

 “This is only temporary.”

 “Temporary?” He scoffed as he crossed his muscular arms.

“Yes!” Even she knew she didn’t sound very convincing. 

Bakugou laughed, rolling his eyes. “I swear to God if you tell me you’re only doing this to pay for law school or some bullshit like that--”

“I’m doing this to pay for a number of things that I’m not at liberty to discuss with you. And frankly, I don’t owe you shit!”

 “Well, you’re so full of shit that you must have plenty to go around!”

Jada bit her lip as she let out a deep sigh. She really didn’t think she was going to have this conversation with him this soon if ever. “Look, I have to make a living, same as everybody else. When YOU go to the strip club someone has to dance for you. So obviously you were okay with that arrangement as long as your girl wasn’t on stage.”

“I didn’t want to fucking come! The point is you fucking lied to me!”

“I never lied to you.”

 “You didn’t tell me the whole truth!”

“You didn’t ask the right questions.”

 Bakugou groaned as he raked his hand through his hair, exasperated. “Fuck! I can’t believe you actually had me bragging to my boys about you. Me! Bakugou fucking Katsuki gushing over a woman.” The hero was so furious he was shaking. In fact, he was more than furious, he was embarrassed. “I sang your praises to my friends only for you to turn around and take your clothes off for them!” He laughed as he shook his head in disgust. “Oh, and you let my best friend motorboat you too. Can’t forget that.”

 The ravenette paused, taking a step back, turning her eyes away from his burning gaze. “I’m not going to apologize for doing my job. You and friends came here to be entertained and I delivered.”

 “I’m a Pro Hero for fucks sake!” Bakugou yelled, throwing his hands into the air. “I can’t date a stripper. Not knowing any extra off the street with a yen can see your goods.”

Jada paused, unsure of what to say. She wasn’t surprised by his reaction, but she didn’t expect the bite of his words to cut her so deep. I knew this was a bad idea. I knew you were a bad idea. “Well, let me rid you of that problem. You won’t be seeing me anymore.” She said coldly before holding her hand out to him. “That’s 55,000 yen for the dance.”

“What?!” He barked in confusion.

“The champagne room is super private and luxurious. No cameras so as to not hurt your precious image.” She hissed as her nose began to tingle. “It costs more and my boss is expecting a cut.” Don’t you fucking do it, Jada. You will not cry in front of him. “I know you’re good for it so let’s not drag this out.”

The blonde scoffed, digging into this pants pocket to pull out his wallet. “I can’t believe I have to pay for a fucking fight,” he mumbled, taking out a wad of cash.  “You didn’t even dance…”

“Yeah but like you said…” Jada said as she snatched the money from his hand. “Your boys enjoyed the show, didn’t they?”

To stop himself from completely losing his cool, Bakugou pushed past the woman and stomped back out onto the club floor. He sulked up to his group of friends, now watching a new dancer on stage. Kirishima was the first one to spot him, immediately noticing his abnormally hostile energy and his overly red face. 

“Whoa! Where’s the fire, bro?”

“We’re leaving!” Bakugou bellowed, walking over to the door.

“Dude, what happened?” Sero asked as they all got up from their seats before following Bakugou out of the building. “Did you not like your dance? She was hot.”

“Did you like it a little too much?” Denki chuckled as he gave the ash-blonde a slap on the back. “Cuz I mean I wouldn’t blame ya. That’s a meal I’d eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

“SHUT UP!” Bakugou yelled, punching his well-meaning friend in the face, his frustrations finally getting the better of him. Stumbling backward, Kaminari held his nose in his hands as he groaned in pain.

“Katsuki! What the fuck dude?!” Kirishima shouted as he steadied the electric hero. “What’s the matter with you?”

“That was her!” Bakugou boomed as he paced the sidewalk.

“Who?”

“Jada!”

The men all stared at Bakugou blankly, not understand who he meant. 

“The stripper…” he explained through gritted teeth. “Nubia. It’s fucking Jada!”

The group of friends all looked at each other in confusion until the reality of the situation finally clicked into place, all of them shouting at once, “FUCK!”

Meanwhile, inside the club, Jada left the champagne room with her head hung low as she silently counted the wad of cash from her almost beau. Eizan was right… I was stupid for even trying. With a sigh, she sauntered backstage to the dressing room, plopping down in her makeup chair. She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn’t even notice her best friend pull up a seat next to her. 

“Wow, girl look at that fat wad! What did you have to do to get that?” Sakura asked cheerfully.

“Nothing…” Jada breathed, putting the cash away for safekeeping.

“Sweetheart, why do you look so upset? What happened? Did that guy do something to you?” The pink-haired woman quickly looked her friend over for any marks or bruises, her concern growing.

“No, I'm fine.” Jada insisted as she touched up her makeup, taking special care that her eyeliner and mascara were still intact. “I just got a reality check is all.” 

Chapter 6 | Masterlist

#dopamine #chapter 5 #ch5 #ch 5 #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou x black reader #bakugou x black oc #bakugou #bakugou x oc #bakugou x original character #black oc #black reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha fanfic #bnha angst #bnha imagines #bnha writings #bnha writing blog #poc writer #kirishima eijirou #sero hanta #kaminari denki

[a9saga]

I wanna make one thing clear. Nobody killed Jenny Schecter. Nobody. Not even herself.

The L Word was the most sloppily written, most lazily dramatic show, and it never cleaned up any of its undeveloped sub plots that they began once and then suddenly dropped entirely and pretended never happened. I swear to God the writers must have never revised a damn script. And this wasn't the type of thing that you only noticed if you're really hypercritical of shows you watch. Very little in the show happens subtextually. It's not a subtle show. Its on fricking Showtime.

Jenny herself over the course of seasons is an example of how the show would just create drama without reason. In season one she and her boyfriend just moved into west Hollywood next door to a couple of lesbians and through one experience with Marina at a party hosted by some of the neighborhood lesbians, she begins to understand she is really intensely drawn to this woman and her boyfriend is at this point still seemingly necessary to her new life, but he doesn't hold up to her interest in this woman no matter how guilty she feels. This makes sense as a plot point. This is how you begin a show about a bunch of lesbians in proximity to one another. The new girl in the neighborhood wants to ditch her fiance for a woman she just met. And after all this Marina stuff subsides eventually, Jenny is a decently developed character. She has flaws and good traits alike. She's messy but she's passionate. She's a drama queen but she cares about people. For instance, Max? Jenny is the main support system for Max in his transition at first, she's really like the only one enthusiastic for him about the whole thing besides that Scottish guy who does drugs in Kit's restaurant and has a couple of otherwise completely unacknowledged sex scenes with Max that dont develop into anything else and don't matter in the future to the show at all. Again. It's a Showtime show. You get the quality you should expect.

And Max is another great example of a sub plot the writers lose interest in! He's a priority to the show for basically just that one season. Honestly they treat Max like shit and lose all interest in him until they get him pregnant in the last season and even then he's only in like every other episode for a few minutes. That was mean. And so was Jenny. Jenny has like, anti-character development throughout the show which is not normal for writers to do to a protagonist. She goes from Jenny Schecter, aspiring writer and newly out lesbian in a new neighborhood to Jenny Schecter, two faced bitch with princess syndrome. They just start writing her in being obviously mean and wrong. And when Max gets pregnant suddenly she's misgendering him on purpose left and right and to my memory maybe the shittiest person to him about his pregnancy? Except of course for Tom, Jodi's interpreter and the guy who got him pregnant who was all on board for parenting the baby until for no reason he gets up in the middle of the night and leaves Max's room and never comes back. Oh and immediately changes his phone numbers apparently, and I guess cuts off contact with everyone on the show or something. That was also just a sudden, uselessly dramatic thing the show threw in that you didn't want it to, that was not justified other than to fuck over a character in a vulnerable situation, and which isn't even in character of the guy who did the thing.

But anyway. This is all to say that no member of the main cast killed Jenny Schecter. You know why? Because the writers are too fucking lazy and careless to make you want to point the finger at anyone, again, including Jenny herself. They don't give you one particularly good reason why anybody might've done it or how they were possibly tied to it. They don't give you reason to think anybody is more likely to have killed her than someone else. They give you nothing to work with in your mind's eye besides your ability to understand who in the main cast hated Jenny the most already. Jenny up and died for no reason because you aren't properly made to raise an eyebrow at her death. Jenny's death is another undeveloped subplot that the show isn't interested in seriously developing, except it is meant as the dramatic series finale to leave you at the edge of your seat so they want you to think it's *mysterious* except that's actually just a recurring fault of the show. Half assed undeveloped melodramatic subplots that get dropped and written out well before your mind forgets them. Don't let them trick you into thinking this was clever of the writers. It's not. It's so consistent with the headache inducing and lazy writing of the show it's absurd. Nobody killed Jenny Schecter. Mark never recorded Shane and Jenny in their own home. Papi was never falling in love with Kit. Etc etc. Ultimately none of this shit happened because they were unfinished and dropped entirely, and the whole murder mystery of Jenny's death ended up being less important than everyone being interrogated by police and explaining their personal history in the show like it's fascinating when weighed against this sudden death. Alice sighing and explaining "the only person I ever loved as much as Tasha... was Dana 😔" is just the investigation being a substitute for therapy. The murder mystery is an afterthought to the cast's final reflection on their relationships to each other just to stick in your mind after the show ends the way the writers want them to. And then they're like. Oh no but who killed Jenny? Nobody. God killed Jenny. Big Bird killed Jenny. The old rescue dog Jenny adopted to put down and then seduce the vet she took him to came back to life and killed Jenny. I killed Jenny. Your mom killed Jenny. The Joker killed Jenny. No one in the main cast killed Jenny. The writers just want you to think they did enough to make you think one of them did. They didn't.

Now that we've established the absurdity of the l word, why did I watch the entire show? Because I was a senior in high and a newly realized lesbian of course. That was more than 4 years ago now. I finished just before Showtime announced they would be bringing it back. I haven't watched generation q so I can't tell you anything about that. But my confliction for the original show as well as my really weird and intense love for Shane are both documented on this blog. I can't believe watching the l word in senior year and falling way too deeply and all-encompassingly in love with Shane is not a universal or even common experience. What were you guys doing senior year? Haven't you watched the l word?

#i started this show because the women on unsolicited project aka the gay women channel referred to it all the time and said it was hilarious #i thought it was gonna be a sitcom.... #some of their opinions stuck out to me and oh boy i do not agree with some of them #the answer to 'who is worse jenny or tina' is not BOTH. okay? don't even fucking. no. #when the fuck did tina adopt an oldass dog just to seduce the vet who puts him down #as elaborate revenge for the vet's girlfriend's negative review of your book like??? what the fuck???? #no one is worse than jenny that bitch is fucking ridiculous #in her worst moments tina never pulls any of the nonsense shit jenny does don't even go there #shut up kaily #catharsis #the l word

[thorne93]

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 26)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 2662

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy​​​​​​, @carryonmyswansong​​​​​​, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​ - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong​​​​​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright, the marine biologist is here, I want to take him to the tent,” Rossi said. “Luke, go get Masuka,” he ordered. 

Luke nodded, muttered an acknowledgement, and dashed off. 

“As for you two kids, I want you to go ahead and get me a list of marinas in the area, that way when they get a hit, we can go immediately.” 

“On it,” Spence replied. You to started to walk toward the bull pen to collect a map, and pins or markers but suddenly Luke was dashing back in. 

“Ugh,” he groaned, putting the back of his hand over his mouth. 

“Luke? What’s wrong?” you asked. 

“The bodies… The tent. The garbage men must’ve knocked the dumpster into the AC unit. The victims… they aren’t in tact anymore.” 

A sense of relief washed over you. You wanted to turn and look at Dexter, to signal a thank you, but you refrained. Clever, clever. You really should stop underestimating him. 

“Oh my god. That’s horrible,” Spencer said. “So what about the marine biologist? Can he do his work?” 

“We’ll see. Most of the algae was on the rocks. We think he weighed the bags down with rocks from his marina. Rossi had me put the rocks in a separate fridge, inside the tent. It still had power so I think it’s okay. I don’t think the heat would’ve gotten to it. Good thing he thought ahead, huh?” he asked with a smile before patting Spencer’s arm and walking off. 

Your face whipped to your husband’s immediately. 

“They stored the rocks separately?” you whisper-shouted. “So that was for nothing?” 

“Well, at least the victims aren’t as intact…” 

“Who cares? The victims weren’t telling us anything. Son of a bitch.” 

“Look, it’s fine. Maybe he won’t turn anything up,” he offered. 

You tried to let it go while you two worked on a list of all of the possible marinas. 

Around 2 PM, Dex stood in the doorway of the conference room, leaning in. “You two wanna grab some lunch?” he asked casually, but you could hear the faintest, most undetected current of panic in his tone. 

You turned to Spence before confirming, asking with your eyes if he wanted to go. Spencer seemed indifferent so you nodded and said, “Sure.” You stood up from the desk, told Rossi and Luke you’d be back soon and left with Dexter. No one said much of anything until you got to a nice outside restaurant. 

“Finally, an ocean breeze,” you stated, soaking up the warmth and cool air. 

“Yeah, it’s a hot one. Especially since it’s summer…” Dex noted. 

“So are we not going to talk about the fact that your plan didn’t work?” Spencer asked, his sunglasses on, but you could see he was throwing daggers at Dexter under the dark lenses. 

“What are you talking about? I destroyed the AC. There should be nothing left for the algae,” he countered, confused. 

“Except there is. The algae was from rocks you picked up, not the bags. Our boss told our team member to store the rocks in a separate place. You didn’t think to check that?” he pressed, leaning forward.

“You didn’t think to ask? I risked everything to sneak in last night.” 

“Do you want me to feel sorry for you?” Spence snapped. 

“Guys,” you interjected. “For one, cool it. Listening ears, remember? Secondly, none of us knew the rocks got moved. We didn’t even know it was the rocks. Masuka never mentioned it. It was just algae.” 

“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway,” Dexter noted. “Tracing it to one marina won’t matter.” 

“Why not?” you asked, frowning. 

“Because I’m not the only boat there. They’d have to find me doing something suspicious.” 

“Well if you move your boat it’ll be suspicious.” 

“Maybe not,” he said with a thoughtful look on his face. 

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

A week seemed to fly by and the marine biologist came back with three hits - and Coral Cove was on the list. 

Fuck. 

“Alright, who wants to take each one?” Rossi asked. 

“I’ll take Coral Cove,” you volunteered.

Spence took one, and Luke took the last. The three of you set out to canvass the area and look for any clues. You were already aware of the clues at this dock: dark, secluded, crappy security, no rental booths. It was ideal for Dexter to do his work. 

Still, you played the part of an agent and walked up and down the dock, taking in everything. You made new mental notes as if you were seeing the space for the first time, and would report everything to Rossi. The catch 22 of this was you couldn’t hold anything back because of how good an agent you were. At the same time, the more information you fed your team and Miami PD, the more they closed in on Dexter. 

You got back to the precinct before Spencer did, but Luke was already back and giving all the info he could. 

Debra suddenly spoke up. “We could check with rental companies and run the dates boats were rented against the dates some of our vics went missing.” 

“Good idea,” you encouraged, knowing absolutely nothing would show up. “Okay, so I did Coral Cove. It’s dark, only a few light posts. No security at all. It’s pretty private.”

“Coral Cove? That’s where half the force puts their boats,” Batista stated. “Yeah it’s the only place they can still afford.” 

All you did was half shrug. “However, there isn’t a rental boot there, Morgan, sorry,” you said, turning back to Debra. “But I’d still run the others. I doubt our unsub would do his dirty work out where cops are.”

“That would be risky,” Rossi agreed. “But he’s been bold enough to abduct some of these people in broad daylight. Let’s not rule it out. I want a log of everyone who keeps their boats at all these docks.” 

Luke and Debra dashed off to get the logs while you stayed behind in the conference room. 

“What if we put security cams up at the docks?” Batista suggested.

“Then we run the risk of never seeing the unsub again. He’ll spook and move his boat,” you tried, hoping they’d shut the idea down. 

“Well, if anyone does move their boat, I mean that’s kind of a red flag. But we might catch this guy doing something weird, right?” Batista replied. 

“Yeah, you’re right. I think we should do it,” you agreed, nodding, meanwhile dying a little inside. There was no winning this one. If you fought the cameras too much, it’d set off alarms. But with the cameras up there, who knows what they’d catch. All you could do was warn him not to do anything suspicious for a while. 

When the room seemed to disperse with their new tasks, you tried to casually go to Dexter’s office. The good thing was nearly everyone on both teams knew you and Dexter were close, so spending a lot of time together in and outside work wouldn’t raise too many flags. You just didn’t want to do it too often. 

“So,” you began, dragging the word out as you got in his office. You closed the door behind you and leaned on it, your hands behind your back. “They’re installing security cams at your dock,” you informed. 

“What? Why?” he asked, dropping his task and turning to you. 

“The algae was traced back to three marinas, yours being one of them.” 

“Well, then I need to go clean my boat,” he slightly argued. 

You narrowed your eyes. “Did you not hear a word I just said? You can’t. If you do anything but drive the damned thing, it’ll look off.” 

“And if they find trace evidence of blood and DNA on my boat, I’ll really be fucked,” he said with a sarcastic smile. 

You crossed your arms. “Okay, fuckface,” you began, giving him an exasperated expression. One a tired mother might give her rebellious teen. “You could always drive the boat out to the ocean and clean it there.” 

“Won’t they see the cleaning supplies, and luminol, and black light and be suspicious?” he asked, pressing your idea. 

“Not if we both go. Hide everything in a tackle box and grab some fishing poles. We go way out, and clean. It’s not that suspicious to clean it in the middle of the ocean,” you tried. 

“And by we, you mean the three of us. Your husband who hates me to help cover evidence--”

“Spence will not be coming. It’d be best if he stayed behind and worked on the case,” you interjected quickly. “Plus I haven’t gotten any time alone with you. I miss our nights together,” you said, with a soft smile. 

“What part?” he asked with a coy grin. 

You glared at him. “The part where we drank beer and shot the shit.” 

He appeared thoughtful for a moment before smiling up at you and saying, “Alright. Yeah, I suppose it’d be fun. We’ll clean the boat and go fishing.” 

“Sounds good,” you cheered before skipping out of his office. 

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

“So how has he been doing this?” Luke asked as all of you sat at the conference room table, eating dinner. 

“Doing what?” Batastia responded.

“Abducting them,” he clarified. “I know he took some delinquents, but he also took some people that weren’t low risk.” 

“He’s either strong enough to subdue them,” Rossi started.

“Or he has a ruse,” Debra added. “You know, like Bundy, maybe?” 

“Or he knocks them out some other way,” another detective offered. “Like a sedative.” 

Jesus, was it hot in here or was it just the heat closing in on you and Dexter? 

“Let’s get the ME reports,” Rossi suggested. “Maybe we missed something. See if he checked for toxins or drugs in the body, or any sort of bludgeoning on the head.” 

Spencer jumped up. “On it.” 

He stepped out to head to the ME’s office and the rest of you kept spitballing ideas until he called. 

He called Rossi and then Rossi put him on speaker. “Hey, guys. I’ve got the ME on the phone.” 

“Hey there, so I found something unusual,” he noted. “I was going back through my notes of your bodies, trying to find evidence of sedation or how they were being taken -- I did find Etorphine in their system.” 

“And that’s unusual, why?” Rossi asked, his eyes touching on everyone around the table.

“Well, other than being a heavy dosage, nothing. It’s a strong sedative. That’s not what was confusing me.” 

“Well, do tell,” Batista encouraged. 

“The three newest victims, the ones that were dead the least amount of time -- they had rough cuts on them.” 

“What do you mean?” Luke pressed. 

“Well so the first fifteen, a knife penetrated their chest, one quick movement. No hesitation, and it goes deep. These other three had hesitation marks, and they barely went in compared to the others. The severing on the ends of the limbs wasn’t as clean.” 

Everyone frowned - you included. Fuck - this ME was good. 

“So what do you think that means?” Batista asked. 

“No idea. Unless this guy got unsure about what he was doing, these last three bodies weren’t his victims.” 

At that, Spencer said that was all the ME had and that he’d be back to the station with the reports. The phone call ended and everyone continued theorizing.

“But how could we have a copycat before we even discovered the bodies?” Debra asked. 

“What if it’s not a copycat?” Rossi suggested. “What if… it’s a partner?” 

“It could be, but why would he suddenly take up a partner?” you asked. Being silent for too long started to look bad when you were the star profiler. 

“It does seem strange. He’s killed fifteen people and just now decided to let his partner do the killing? Most of the time they bring them in earlier,” Rossi agreed. 

“Unless they couldn’t find someone,” Debra tried. 

“Nah, I think it’s something else,” Luke noted. “If you were thinking you were cleaning up the streets… Who would you teach that to?” he pressed. 

Everyone seemed stumped so you threw out a bogus answer. “What about a son, or a sibling? Maybe the guy is getting older, or their kid just came of the age. They figure they should show them the ropes, have them take over the legacy.” 

Debra sat back. “Holy fuck. A family of serial killers? That’s just fucking great.” 

“It’s a start on the profile though, maybe,” Rossi encouraged. “Let’s see if we can get Garcia to fish out any possible vigilante types in the area that have family. Y/N, when you were down here, did you have any suspects at all?” your boss directed at you. 

Fighting the hard urge to glance to Dexter, you tossed your pen on the desk before looking up at your boss and saying, “No, I hadn’t gotten that far yet.” 

“No problem, let’s see what Garcia can dig up,” Rossi said before dismissing everyone. “Everyone, let’s take a half day tomorrow. We’ve been at this non stop, maybe some distance will help us get some clarity.”

At this everyone got up and gathered their stuff and finished out the day. Spencer showed up after an hour. Silently, you and Spencer went back to your hotel room. Once you were safely inside, you decided to tell Spencer your plans. The half day couldn’t have come soon enough. 

“So, I was thinking of going out on Dexter’s boat with him tomorrow,” you cautiously informed as you dropped your bag on the floor.  

“You’re… I’m sorry, you’re going on a fishing trip while we’re trying to cover up your tracks? Cover evidence you created?” he asked, incredulous. 

“That’s exactly what we are doing. It isn’t some kind of fun outing. Dex needs to clean his boat and we can’t do it with the cameras mounted around there.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“I know you hate it, for some reason. So you can either come along with us for hours, which I know you’ll hate… or you could spend time in Miami with the team.” 

“So that’s it? I either come along and be unhappy and uncomfortable, or I am forced to stay back in the city.” 

You shrugged, losing your patience. “I’m not sure what else you want, Spence. We need to clean his boat.”

“Can’t he do it alone?”

“Yeah but… to be honest, I wanted to spend some time with him. Time that isn’t about this investigation…”

“Oh, sorry, don’t let me interrupt your buddy time with him,” he responded as if he were offended while he got ready for bed. 

You clenched your fist and threw your pajama shirt on the bed as you faced Spencer. “Why do you hate him so much?” you demanded angrily. 

Your husband gave you a look that tore you apart inside, it was as if the answer should be obvious and even asking him to explain himself was a ridiculous request. 

“Why do you not?” he begged breathlessly. Disbelief colored his face. 

You were taken aback by his question. “Well… he’s my friend,” you began, somewhat stammering. 

“Yes, now he is, but a few months ago he would've been another unsub. and now... now we have to pretend to like him..."

“It’s not pretending for me, I really do enjoy his company.” 

He shook his head, disappointment replacing every feature on his expression. He stopped looking at you to busy himself with finishing his nightly routine. His voice got softer as he said, “It’s fine, Y/N, just go do what you have to.” 

You pursed your lips, wanting to make this easier on him somehow. This was exactly what you didn’t want. You were dancing in the line of fire here, but Spence wasn’t even guilty and he was going through the same stress you were. 

You sighed sadly before finishing your own routine and crawling into bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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@lenawiinchester​​​​​​​

@esoltis280​​

ITCM

@arganfics​​

#inside the criminal mind #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #dexter fic #dexter #dexter morgan