#fuck the research tag also we put this in the main tag like MEN

[jesterjamz]

the list is getting ever-so fuller with answers

#olly orates #fuck the research tag also we put this in the main tag like MEN #anyways i just went ahead & asked kanna & walter the question in my discord jfdklsjflsd #gives me more asks to send to other ppl <3

[msgrumpygills]

Social Media Anon Here!

Firstly, never change Grumpy ;) you are probably the only person on Tumblr to LISTEN to another view and let it change a prejudice.

Secondly, the Padagram/Social Media change bus continues. Don't be fooled people will be looking at positive and negative reactions to that change on social media.

So here goes!

1. They are starting to market season 2 of Walker in Hiatus. That really doesn't happen. That means they know they need to target new viewers. They are acknowledging they have a problem. The main problem is Jared either didn't learn enough about production quality on SPN (Jensen/Misha were both more interested in behind the camera's) or that he thought he could stick a Stetson on and we all had such sh1t for brains we'd watch anything. So they need a viewer boost DESPARATELY and are going all out to (a) persuade Walkers remaining viewer(s) that it's worth sticking around and (b) get back old viewers or convert 1m+ viewers to season 2. So now we see all the cast (and Keegan has more followers than Jared and Lindsay has a VERY engaged following) trying to persuade their followers how fabulous Walker is. Expect this scrabbling to continue if they want their COVID paychecks.

2. Connected to 1, Jared has started trying to break out of the fandom bubble. I don't think he's trying for power couple (the clue in a power couple is that two FAMOUS people get together and create a super brand, here we have one niche C famous guy and a hanger on wife), I think we are in Jared profile raising and trying to raise his recognition score, which is probably a little low having half assed it in the last year and a half. He's doing it by scatter-gunning so I'm not sure it's going to stick.

3. Connected to 2,

(i) if I run my algorithm clean laptop with a "Jared Padalecki" news search, I get (a) a daily mail article on Jared "clarifying the rift" (b) a "hello" magazine saying he's been "inundated with support after death of "family member"" (c) the new york times article on Walker and Supernatural. It then goes into a variety of articles about Jared raising money for Holly's family (fucking atrocious in my view to use her death for publicity) and a series of derivative articles on his mantrum and later explanation. ONLY THE NEW YORK TIMES ARTICLE MENTIONS WALKER other than as a throw away, all of the others link to Supernatural only. Walker isn't on the main radar of anyone as a show. It's not mainstream enough to mention. it has ZERO buzz.

(ii) if I run the same search on my compromised tablet, I get a SEA of fluff articles "jared padalecki goes to venice", "jared padalecki's wife wishes him a happy birthday" "jared padalecki goes to watch soccer" "jared padalecki goes to the wrestling". I'm expecting "Jared Padalecki defecates regularly" tomorrow.

At the end of that I get the same articles as in (i) but the majority of his publicity is still going through the fandom and the, not very viewed, endless zine type websites that update on every episode of every geek show every day.

So we are seeing, and I expect it to continue, a break out Padalecki, (who knows he and his forehead may wish to have a final crack at films), and a fluff Padalecki, trying to stay relevant a year after SPN relevance ended, because he hasn't got the same push for season 2 of Walker as he had for season 1 and Walker has zero presence. No one, not even the fans are talking about Walker.

Will it work? I don't think so. Keegan has 7m followers on Insta and that's because he's a photographer and writer and it's interesting. I would follow his account (I don't), but certainly it isn't a Walker instagram.

Jared is a clever guy, but he's boring on social media. He has a limited appeal. He does family snaps, hunk snaps, flogs orange pee and flogs his show. He says "family" and "mantra" a lot but that's really it. The clue is, if you didn't know who he was and came across his instagram you wouldn't follow him. Why would you? For a video of a guy running up steps? A smug picture of two middle aged men trying to flog you something?... (oh and lots of "brother" comments on Keegan's social media, which is irritating. It's like he thinks that is his repeatable formula and it isn't).

His media approach won't work because advertising and exposure pushes a product. In TV's case, it's not a one off product and there is a lot of competition. Product Jared needs to be more interesting (his mantrum's are the only exciting thing about him - and that is tragic) and his TV show just needs to be BETTER, well, a LOT BETTER.

Soooo, expect the Padapush to continue, but it's not about a couple, it's about individual marketing and for Jared breaking out of SPN bubble. For Gen, it's her tag along profile that she'll never break out of. She'll have to be satisfied with her superpower of being able to persuade people to buy toothbrush's and dog food (if she can).

Expect though the couple's bit to die off a little. Jared is getting over exposed. His engagement rating is plummeting (nearly 3% is a plummet) because of the repetitive photo content. He'll have to back off or people will switch off (I have already). What makes me laugh is.... from the dawn of time when cavemen took their wives 2 miles away for a new cave weekend.... NO ONE HAS EVER BEEN INTERESTED IN SOMEONE ELSE'S HOLIDAY SNAPS.... Gen and Jared apparently need to learn that lesson...

I might stop these posts now because, well, it's gotta be a bit boring for you and I write LONG. :)

Stay safe and wear your masks ;) xxx

I don’t want you to ever ever change, lovely! Also, I’m NEVER bored by your messages! You put so much effort into the research you do and the messages you send and it’s appreciated! <3 

I started following Lindsey on IG because she seems pretty genuine, and her cat is way too cute! Plus, I like her attitude. I haven’t followed her for the whole Walker season, but even she doesn’t post a lot about it. She posts interviews and then posts about that night’s episode, but other than that, nothing.  Can’t speak for Keegan, but how are fans and non-fans supposed to be excited about a show when the people STARRING in the show can’t be bothered? Maybe they’re all aware of how shitty it is or maybe they’re lazy, but it doesn’t make sense. 

I’m always interested to see the difference in an “algorithm-free” setting and one that has an algorithm. I always figured Google was the same for everyone, but seeing the difference in articles you’ve outlined is insane. It really just goes to show that Jared isn’t the star that his stans think he is. He’s not as important as they think he is, he’s just an actor.  It’s even more jarring to see just how little Walker is talked about at all. All of my devices probably have been “contaminated” when it comes to algorithm so I can’t really speak personally about the public and fans talking about Walker or not talking about it. I can say that on the posts about Walker from the Supernatural Facebook page, a good chunk of the comments are people saying they stopped watching, never got into it, or thought it was trash. There are only a handful of comments talking about how they enjoy the show. 

I think it was disgusting for him to use a fan’s passing for publicity. And no, I don’t think it was anything other than a PR stunt. Her family had a GFM going that was promoted by plenty of the case INCLUDING GEN, so you know he knew about it. But for him to make his own special one and then have articles posted everywhere about how charitable he is? That’s gross PR bullshit and I hope it backfires. 

I still follow a few Supernatural fans, Jared fans, Jensen fans, etc. on Tumblr and even they aren’t mentioning it. I think maybe the hardcore Jared stans post gifsets or whatever, but I don’t see much praise for the show itself, just Jared’s looks. Even the fans aren’t biting and that would make me reevaluate everything if I was Jared. 

I'm expecting "Jared Padalecki defecates regularly" tomorrow. This made me laugh way too hard!

who knows he and his forehead may wish to have a final crack at films You are on a ROLL!  Maybe I’ve become biased, but I can’t see Jared doing films. I mean, I could see him doing like a side character role or something small, but I can’t see him having a big part of a movie. Like I said, maybe that’s me being biased but I see him staying in TV. I could be proven wrong, but I don’t know. 

I agree about Jared being boring on SM. I used to get some giggles from his Twitter posts and even some of his early IG posts because they were goofy, clever, and candid. It showed his humor and was more personable. Now it’s just all fake and comes off as someone whose only motivation to engage with fans is money and that’s a big turn off. 

For me personally, I think that if instead of the “couple goals” bullshit that they try to push for their lavish trips, if they just posted cool pictures they took of different locations, activities, food or whatever, that would be more palatable than all the “Look at my hubster and I! We’re in Italy! Look at how in love we are!” But maybe that’s because I’ve become a bit of a photography nerd? 

I guess time will tell whether or not Jared will make positive changes and if Walker can be saved, but I’m not really optimistic about it. 

I AM optimistic about your takes on things so keep them coming! Long posts or not, I love them! <3

#grumpy answers #social media anon #anti jared padalecki #anti walker

[animedaddymilkers]

Kinkmas 2020: Day Two

Prompt: Pegging w/ Guy

Genre: Smut/18+ || Tags: Pegging, Anal fingering, Oral || Characters: Might Guy, Female Reader || read it on ao3 here

"Still sure you wanna do this?" You questioned for probably the tenth time that day, just making sure Guy hadn't changed his mind.

To no surprise he swiftly nodded at you, "Yes! I want to do this."

When he set his mind to something he never went back on it. This was no different, after you talked over the idea of him bottoming it barely ever left his thoughts. The past couple missions were especially interesting, leaving him distracted and generally off his game. It was a rather private topic, so he didn't want to bring up with any of his friends. Instead, choosing to do his own research through books and the internet. He'd be lying to himself if he said the first video he watched on pegging didn't have him immediately sold on the idea. The notion of experiencing pleasure to the point the men in the videos had was tempting and soon after, Guy told you he wanted to try it.

The actual purchasing of the strap on was a bit embarrassing, but the staff of adult shops are always over friendly to offset the awkwardness. Now, you had the emerald green dick strapped to your waist. The sheer energy and power the attachment gave you was overwhelming and you couldn't wait to wreck your boyfriend with it. Seeing him kneeling in front of you, mouth open and waiting for your cock was enough to get you lust drunk. It'd be rude to keep him waiting, so with a slow and tentative thrust you began to slide the dick into his mouth.

It was a bit obvious he didn't have much experience with this, though he said he had some. In hindsight, it was a nice little bonding experiment for you two as a couple. He could finally understand what you have to go through every time you try to swallow his own monster cock. The best redeeming quality about Guy was that he was ambitious and eager to learn. And it was clearly showing in the way he was quickly learning to twist his head as he went up and down your green cock. Eager might have been an understatement. For something you weren't exactly receiving any physical pleasure from, Guy was sure going hard at the dick sucking.

At a certain point you had to just take a hold of his hair and pull him off your cock just so you two could move onto the main event. When he stood back up you kissed him deeply, the taste of the cherry lube still on his lips. Then you laid him down and put some of the lube on your fingers before prodding at his entrance. Already, he was tensing up, before forcing himself to relax and allow your fingers to slide into him. The sigh that left his lips was delightful and only encouraged you more. Slowly, you pushed your two fingers deeper, gently prodding as you added another digit inside of him. Guy's thick legs spread wider, silently begging you for more

His cock was hard and weeping yet he didn't dare touch himself because he knew all too well the pay off would be better if he waited.

"Oh, Kami, please… more." It came out more of a whimper than a moan.

The thought that you had one of Konoha's strongest shinobi underneath you begging for more gave you a wave of confidence. Your fingers worked him open before slipping out, earning a full fledged whine from the black haired hunk spread in front of you. You couldn't help but snicker, wiping your hand on the nearby towel and instead focused on lubing up your cock. Then, you held your breath and watched one of the best sights as your emerald strap-on slid into his ass. Your eyes wandered up his chiseled body and met his as he sighed happily, reveling in the fullness he was met with. 

As a test you pushed until your hips until they met his and without any surprise, he took it without complaint. With the first thrust his thighs tensed, hands quickly reaching to find yours. Fingers interlocked as your hips trusted again, this time earning a delicious moan from Guy. Not like you needed any more initiative to keep fucking him, but the sounds coming from him definitely helped. After the first handful of thrusts you found a nice rhythm. It was slow and powerful, enough to please him but also leave him wanting more. So it was no surprise when his hips began to lift up and try to meet yours, soft begs leaving his lips.

"(Y/N)..." his voice was different than it normally was, now deeper yet broken by desperate whines, "I need more. Please, move faster…"

You smirked and completely pulled your cock out, laying down next to him. The action earned a shock look from him making you laugh softly, "You want more? Come and get it big boy. Ride it all you want."

His eyes widened slightly before he understood and scurried to straddle your waist. The contrast of his large form looming over yours was almost comical and you would have laughed had it not been for the sight of Guy sinking down onto your cock again. That signature bowl cut was now a messy mop at best, bouncing along with him, framing his face like a goddamn painting. His hips moved on their own, up and down faster than you could ever ride him. Must be all those squats he does paying off. He didn't bother holding back his pants and moans as he used you solely to get himself off, his cock moving up and down with him.

At this point everything from his face to chest was darkened with a blush and the way his eyes were nearly rolling into the back of his head let you know he was close. Teasingly, you gave a couple thrusts up, meeting his hips as they came down, making him cry out. To add fuel to the fire your one hand held onto an ass cheek while the other wrapped around his neglected, leaking cock. He moaned at your touch and leaned his head back. His movements were getting desperate as your hand worked his cock.

The hand on his ass moved and you held one of his hands, "Go ahead baby, c'mon, cum for me~"

His only response was a long whine, followed by a moan as his hips crashed down fully onto your emerald cock. It was there where he stayed, hips rocking back and forth as his cock spurted cum over your hand and stomach. His face contorted, eyes clamming shut while his mouth fell open. Honestly, you wish you had a camera to capture the sight for eternity as Guy came down from his high, panting on top of you.

"You did so good~" you rubbed his thighs as his upper body slowly leaned over, burying his head into your neck.

Your hands moved to his back and rubbed soft circles as you slowly pulled your fake cock out. Guy kissed your neck softly, his attentiveness taking over after his climax. The notion made you smile as he pressed gentle kisses all down your shoulder, his hands ghosting down your sides.

"Why don't we get you cleaned up, hun?" 

"Mmm, I think you're the one that needs to be cleaned up, beautiful."

The statement confused you for a minute until rough fingers slid under the strap and made contact with the wetness between your thighs. In hindsight, you should have known better. Guy is a people pleaser, especially when it comes to making sure you're satisfied and this time was no different. Before you could refuse his act of service the strap-on was discarded to the side and your hunk of a boyfriend began sliding down your body. Along the way he trailed kisses until his head was in between your thighs. Now it was your turn to spread your legs and sigh as his warm tongue locked up your soaked slit. His strong hands wrapped around your thighs, ready to dig in for his meal and dig in he did.

Never one to half ass anything, Guy immediately began to work you like always. His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked gently, while two of his thick fingers slid inside of you. The roles reversed as your head fell back against the bed, hand tangling into Guy's hair. Fingers curled inside of you, hitting your sweet spot almost right away. You moaned and held his head in your crotch, thighs squeezing around his head. It should be illegal for a man as perfect as Guy to also be this good at giving head. His fingers quickened as he flattened his tongue against your clit. Really, he was so good at giving head because he loved doing it, loved making you cum just from his mouth and hand. He let you know it too, moaning against your pussy as he only increased his fervor.

It didn't shock you anymore that you were on the verge of orgasm already. Your thighs would be shaking if Guy didn't have such a commanding grip on them. But that didn't stop your toes from curling and tugging harder on his hair. The reactions from you only encouraged him more and he once again quickened his actions. Before long you were thrown over the edge, wetting his hand and clutching the bedsheets. As your vision returned, you saw Guy happily licking his hand clean before laying next to you. You both met with kisses and cuddles, falling into each other's warm embrace, ready to settle in for the night.

hope you enjoyed! ;) remember likes & reblogs help me reach more people! :)

#naruto #naruto x reader #naruto smut #kinkmas 2020 #might guy #maito gai #might guy x reader #maito gai x reader #smut #reader insert #might guy x you #x you #maito gai x you

[seijuurouxryuu]

zombies ate my neighbour (and turned into mince meat)

Title: zombies ate my neighbour (and turned into mince meat) Author: Shiro (TeitoxAkashi [AO3]/ seijuurouxryuu [tumblr]) Rating: T Pairing: Hibari Kyouya/Sawada Tsunayoshi/Yamamoto Takeshi Event: @khrrarepairweek Prompts: Zombie Apocalypse AU | Accidental Kidnapping Tags/Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning, Major Character Death, No Archive Warning

Day 2: Sky Day

06/05/2943

It was his birthday yesterday, the skylark who took over control of Namimori. He was interesting. His first reaction was not to hoard food, but to start a one-sided slaughter with the undead. He then ordered his men to put up fences around Namimori boarder, closing off the small town. He cleaned up the remains and burnt the undead.

Some, though, he kept caged in his compound.

AO3

13/04/2943

 The sky suddenly turned red. It was not a gradual change, no, the redness came all of the sudden when the sun was still shining brightly. News was all about dooms day and judgement day and blah. Annoying.

 18/04/2943

 The sky remained red. Even when the sun sets, the sky was still red. No one knows why, all the scientists were scrambling to find the reasons and consequences of no night but they failed to discover something huge.

 There were more rotting corpses on the street.

 25/04/2943

 They finally noticed; it wasn't dooms day but close. It was a zombie apocalypse, like those in the movies and fictions. Food and clean water ran low, none of the grass or trees or plants can be eaten because they had mutated. Even the animals were starting to mutate.

 People were dying faster than zombies could kill them.

 How ironic.

 06/05/2943

 It was his birthday yesterday, the skylark who took over control of Namimori. He was interesting. His first reaction was not to hoard food, but to start a one-sided slaughter with the undead. He then ordered his men to put up fences around Namimori boarder, closing off the small town. He cleaned up the remains and burnt the undead.

 Some, though, he kept caged in his compound.

 07/07/2943

 Hibari Kyouya. He finally cleared Namimori of zombies after almost two months. He organized food rationing, set up teams of guards for the boarder and people in charge of raiding food from nearby town. Some outsiders would find their way to the boarders and pled for entry, but Hibari accepted only those who were once from Namimori and young children or old people. The rest that are well and able were barred from entry.

 It wasn't a surprise, honestly. Hibari owned and loved Namimori. He wouldn't let anyone who is not Namimori in and sabotage the peace. He was kind enough still to accept those who cannot sustain themselves in such trying times. "Those herbivores could not even fight against a tiny zombie animal, much less a zombie. I'd rather they not add to the number." He had said.

 I think he was kinder than he let on.

 28/07/2943

 I got accepted into the youth team for zombie virus research. Hibari had established a team of researchers from a group of doctors. Their main task was to make use of the captured zombies Hibari had in his compound to find a cure--either to completely vaccinate everyone from the virus that spreads by bites or scratches from a zombie, or to reverse engineer and turn those zombies back to human. Honestly, the latter sound absurd. Even the adults said so, but Hibari was adamant that they figure out a way.

 A week into the research, none of the doctors or scientists managed to find something; all these old fogies were too scared to approach the zombies even with Hibari watching close, even with them held down. Hibari almost killed them in annoyance instead if not for the fact he still needed their brains. That was why the Youth team was established. Because apparently the younger generations were braver.

 More like they couldn't send those around them as cannon fodders, so they decided to push for kids being the cannon fodders. Cowards, all of them. Fucking cowards.

 Hibari, of course, knew their plan but he allowed the setup of a Youth team anyway. He had said: "Whoever takes the sample can use it on their own or with their team--no sharing of samples outside of the team. You old herbivores may be smart, but if you don't suck it up anytime soon I will deal with your old bones faster than a zombie can."

 In my opinion, that was the hottest shit I've ever heard in my whole life.

 16/08/2943

 The main researchers were all scared shitless by Hibari's threat so they finally took the samples themselves. The Youth team did too. We both use the samples separately, but every day we would gather together with the adults to discuss our findings. I honestly didn't know why Hibari allowed the Youth to participate separately because honestly, the oldest of us is only 24 and had not even graduated from university. None of us were anymore knowledgeable than one another, much less the main team researchers.

 But Irie-senpai said it was because those old fogies were too stuck up in their old ideas that Hibari wanted more innovative brains to speed up the process. He also said with just those old bones, the world would have been annihilated way before they can figure out the cure.

 I guess there were some truths in that.

 Still, there were not much progress. Outside of Namimori, the zombie virus was still spreading. Hunters would go out and capture one or two back for us to check and to our horror, the zombie virus mutates from one person to another. It was practically impossible to find a permanent vaccine.

 But we had to do it.

 Otherwise Hibari would have our heads before the zombies did. That who-shall-not-be-named was an example.

 31/08/2943

 It was my turn to get another sample from Hibari's compound. There were around 20 that was kept, but out of the 20, 4 was permanent, and one of them was separately kept inside the house--the one no one has seen before. Even if the other 3 were rarely used to provide samples, that one particular zombie was never used.

 I was curious and asked Kusakabe, Hibari's right hand, and gotten an answer that confuses me.

 "That's Kyou-san's. No one else can touch."

 I mean, don't all of these zombies technically belong to Hibari?

 I didn't pry further though.

 18/09/2943

 I was collecting samples again when Hibari came back from his trip out of the boarders. He was as usual uninjured despite the blood and gore that stuck to his jacket. What surprised me was that he was carrying an unconscious boy in his arms when he walked into the compound. He was holding him tightly, yet the gentleness in his grip was not unseen. There was a clean blanket around the boy too, bundling him up into a burrito until only his head was seen--brown and fluffy.

 Without even blinking, he gestured at his followers and tilted his head at yet another group of new zombies. "Take those samples today." He said lowly, as though to not wake up the unconscious boy.

 I could only nod mutely as he swiftly turned and walked into the house.

 ... Did Hibari just kidnapped a boy from outside?

 21/09/2943

 We might have a new lead with the new group of zombies Hibari brought back. I can't write much though. Not because of anything but I just don't want to jinx it.

 Still, who was that boy?

 27/09/2943

 As it turned out, the boy--or young man--was not kidnapped. He was originally from Namimori as well and was out of boarders when the apocalypse happened. He had only just managed to find a way to contact Hibari and Hibari went to fetch him. Simple as that.

 Was what he said.

 It didn't look simple to me. Sawada--that guy--told me that he and Hibari used to be from the same school and Hibari had helped him a lot of times. They were friends, he said. I think their relationship is more than that, but with how convinced Sawada was, I didn't tell him my conjecture. Not that I could anyway with how Hibari stared daggers at me when I chatted with Sawada.

 How did I meet him?

 Well, as it turned out, the breakthrough we had the other day was a success, so Irie-senpai brought me and a few others to Hibari. Oh, Irie-senpai was their friends too, apparently, so he wasn't surprised seeing Sawada.

After the discussion and greenlight from Hibari to proceed with the rest of the research, Sawada and Irie-senpai started chatting. Somehow, Irie-senpai introduced me and the other Youth members to him, and somehow, Sawada started chatting with me more.

 I think he was bored with Hibari's constant silence.

 I merely listened though as he and Irie-senpai recounted their past.

 "Look, I didn't plan to go out of Namimori at that time. If it weren't for my uncle's insistence that I go visit him I'd rather stay here and possibly get bitten to death by a zombie." Sawada said. I don't think he was bored with Hibari's silence at all now.

 Irie-senpai laughed. "By a zombie, or him?"

 Sawada flushed red. How interesting...

 "Shut up, Shoichi."

 Hibari looked smug at the back.

 10/10/2944

 It took us more than a year, but we succeeded in creating the cure, much to the main research team's anger. We did share the findings with them, but those stuck-up old cows were adamant that what we did and the direction we were looking at was wrong. Now that we created the solution, they couldn't speak anymore.

 Our next stage was testing; Irie-senpai said we have to try on the old zombies Hibari has, but unfortunately most of them disintegrated a few months before. Those that are still 'alive' were the 4 that Hibari kept properly.

 Hibari did not approve the testing on them and argued a long time with Irie-senpai.

 While they were having a sort of 'shouting' contest in the courtyard--honestly, I think Hibari did not bite Irie-senpai to death solely because he was the leading the research--I was having tea with Sawada.

 Sawada didn't even look exasperated by their argument. Curious, I couldn't help but ask: "Why wouldn't Hibari-san allow us to test on those zombies?"

Sawada was dazed by the question. He suddenly looked down and smiled sadly. "Well.... Those four are our... Friends. Family. We... Well, the thing is, Hibari and I all hope for a cure to return them back to normal. They didn't exactly die, you know? They were bitten while alive, which suggest that they are still alive. We can feel that they're alive too, in fact, which is why... Hibari and I are waiting for the day to see them come back. Especially..." His eyes dimmed as he peered over to one particular zombie--the one Hibari kept carefully the most.

 He quickly shook his head and continued, "I think Shoichi don't even want to test on them, but he had no choice because the newest batch of zombies might have yet another mutation that renders the whole thing useless. Only with the old batch he could tell whether we're all on the exact right track... But none of us wanted to test on them when everything is so uncertain now, especially during the preliminary testing where we don't even know the side effects..."

 I seemed to have pieced something together.

 I said nothing and quietly nodded.

 23/02/2945

 As it turned out, mutation rendered the whole thing unsuccessful, yes. But from the old zombies--not Hibari's four--we somehow managed to find, we were all on the right track. But now, we have to tackle the mutation and make a protein that can target the unchanging amino acids of made from the virus. It's all complicated stuff; I'd probably write a whole book about it if I do so I'll spare you, and my hands, from the details.

 Interestingly, Sawada liked to chat with me whenever I go to Hibari's place for either more samples or discussion with Irie-senpai. I don't know why, maybe because I looked approachable? Who knows? Anyways, from him, I finally got to know who exactly the four zombies were.

 The smallest zombie was Chrome Dokuro, Sawada's adopted sister when she was abandoned by her parents from a car accident. She died in the hospital when the zombie outbreak happened, and Sawada was actually relieved that she turned into a zombie at that time because she was going to die soon from multiple organ failures. He said that once she was cured from the virus, he was going to transplant all the organs he found for her--that was the reason why he left Namimori back then to find his uncle. I suspected that he has connection with the Yakuza or black market, but that was beside the point.

 The next one was Sasagawa Ryohei. I knew him too--the brother of Sasagawa Kyouko. She is alive of course, just working in the food rationing team (She and Miura Haru were very scary if you jump queue during food distribution). Apparently, she was Sawada's schoolmate as well, and friend. The more you know. Anyways, Sasagawa Ryohei was Hibari's classmate at one point, and he had taught Sawada boxing once. They became friends after even though Sawada failed terribly at boxing--what he said.

 The third one was Gokudera Hayato. He was actually not from Namimori, but he was Sawada's childhood friend. He was a half-Italian who lived in Italy. He had transferred to Namimori Middle School years back because he was fed up with his family (TMI much, Sawada?) and wanted to be closer to Sawada, so he came with Sawada's uncle, who was by the name of Reborn. (I've met him ONE (1) time and I would NOT want to again.) He was bitten by a zombie when he was trying to protect Sawada's adoptive brother and sister (just how many siblings does Sawada have?) and got turned. Hibari brought him back before he bit anyone else and locked him up along with Sasagawa and Chrome.

 The last one, and probably the most cherished by Hibari (Sawada cherished all four of them but even I could tell he was saddest when facing this one), was Yamamoto Takeshi. I was surprised, because he was our resident baseball star. Before the apocalypse happened, he was the talk of the town because he was offered into the national baseball team. Sawada said Yamamoto was his childhood friend as well--and apparently Hibari's too--and he was bitten by his father Yamamoto Tsuyoshi, who changed while trying to protect him. Tsuyoshi-san unfortunately was killed and burned by a stranger who tried to help Yamamoto, who did not want to attack his father.

 Hibari had almost killed that stranger for burning Tsuyoshi-san if it were not for the fact the stranger had tried to save Yamamoto. But still, Yamamoto was bitten and had turned into a zombie. All Hibari could do was bring him back and cage him up just like how he did with the other three.

 Sawada looked very sorrowful when he retold everything.

 All I could do is pat his shoulders and console him that the research teams are trying our very best to help.

 And I am, trying my very best. I want to see them smile, honestly.

 16/01/2947

 Sorry, I hadn't had any time to write. It has been... 2 years, huh, since my last entry. I was far too busy--everyone was.

 The sky had darkened further in red, the rain started coming down red, even the sun and moon turned red. Everyone could tell that the zombie apocalypse is worsening. Us research teams were even more aware.

 After we found the cure, we immediately started tackling all and every mutation. We finally pinpointed a particular protein made by the virus RNA that is present in every mutation; it was the protein that changed the structure of a human's cells into 'undead' dead cells. It's like, some microorganisms can't survive in very cold temperature and would lay dormant but once the temperature rises it would wake up and start working.

 Those 'undead' dead cells are the same. In this zombie stage, they are like those frozen microorganisms. Irie-senpai said if we can kill or render the protein unusable, we might be able to revert those cells back to living cells. The zombies can then be reverted back to humans.

 First ten testing did not work. The eleventh test, the zombie's cells turned to normal cells but it remained in coma. The twentieth test, the zombie woke up as human once again.

 After two hundred tests and a year of observation, we finally confirmed that it is successful.

 The first person who received the cure serum was Yamamoto Takeshi.

 He woke up 10 days after the jab and I saw Hibari cry silently at the side while Sawada grabbed Yamamoto sobbing.

 They both smiled.

 05/05/2950

 We spread our findings and information worldwide--now no one is killing zombies but capturing them to be taken back to the lab for revival. In another 2 years’ time, I doubt there'll be anymore two legged zombies.

 The sky was still red, everything was still red, but the progression of the redness seemed to have stopped three years ago. It was good news. Now, everyone is targeting how to reverse engineer the mutations of nature. It was the hardest part, but it was alright, I believe that we can manage it.

 After all, did we not succeeded in bringing back humanity?

 Cough. Let's not talk about this.

 It's Hibari's birthday. He had wanted a quiet birthday with Yamamoto and Sawada, apparently, but both of them wouldn't let him have it and organized a party with everyone they know. They even invited me under the reason that I've helped them so much all these years. I wonder if they truly thought so, and not because they wanted someone sane to watch over them?

 So, it was a party. A wild one. One that would end with Hibari biting everyone to death, but he didn't. I guess he missed the chaos during the silence he lived in when the apocalypse started. He tolerated all of us.

 The highlight of the party was probably this:

 Yamamoto actually proposed to the both of them. Sawada broke down crying while Hibari.exe actually broke. Hibari had frozen in spot for so long everyone suspected his soul had ran away. Until, of course, Yamamoto pulled him into a long kiss that ended up being a three way make-out with everyone whistling and jeering.

 "Get a room!" I seconded that notion, Gokudera.

 They didn't actually get a room of course; the party must go on with the protagonists. But it was a great party. Everyone was so happy.

 I feel so happy for them.

 Well, I'm very tired now after hauling all the drunks back home, so I'm going to pen off. I'm not sure when I'll write again, but yeah, see you soon.

 Signing off,

S.

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

A/N:  A SPECIAL THANKS TO KHR RAREPAIR DISCORD PEEPS FOR THE TITLE thenkew morcai senpai :3 <3

Hehehehhehehhe I loved writing this day entry the most. Maybe because its easier for me to write??

I'm finally free from the clutches of studying!!!!!!!!!!! Can finally post and write stuffs hngh.

Hope yall had fun with reading this!

[I apologize for any grammar, spelling, etc. etc. mistakes]

#KHR #Katekyo Hitman Reborn #khrrarepairweek2021 #Hibari Kyouya #Sawada Tsunayoshi #Yamamoto Takeshi #Irie Shoichi #Irie Shouichi #My Writings

[miss-eucatastrophe]

Pairing: Levi x Erwin x Mike x Thick!Reader/PlusSize!Reader

Summary: When you purchased your first home you’d anticipated it being a turning point in your life. You just didn’t anticipate that turn to give you whiplash. 

A new home throws you into a new lifestyle you would have never thought you’d find yourself in-- with three men you’d never expected to be with. 

Rated: Explicit [18+]

Main Tags: Polyamory/Polyamorous relationship, BDSM, Attack on Titain Modern AU, Slow Burn

A/N: Hey all, Just some things about the reader in this fic before you get invested:

I keep the reader ambiguous in appearance and use [y/n]. Use of [y/n] becomes minimal in favor of pet names as the story progresses. 

One thing that is not ambiguous is that the reader is thick, you could also say plus sized though because that’s different in every country I favor the word thick. I also think its kind of a sexier adjective. 

Reader has self consciousness issues and anxiety, both are being treated/have been treated through therapy. I keep it ambiguous as to whether or not the reader is still in therapy-- regardless the reader is insinuated to be far along and doing well in her treatment. Shout out to my peeps who are/have been in therapy, your mental health is important and you’re doing great no matter where you are in it. 

Reader is in her mid to late 20′s because realistically purchasing a home before that is near impossible. Hell even in our 20′s its hard. I also wanted to give a little love to my thick girls in their later 20′s because we out here. 

A lot of AOT reader inserts, if not completely ambiguous, often emphasize a super fit form. Which makes sense in the typical setting when the reader is in the AOT world and maybe a soldier-- but I wanted to give some love to our fuller body types. Maybe I just got tired of reading “...reader’s flat/muscular stomach...” and going-- ooh can’t relate! Haaa. 

That being said, you can read this no matter what your body type because everyone’s perception of self is different-- I just wanted to give the heads up because the reader does struggle a bit with her sense of self in the story because of her body type as her self confidence continues to develop. 

BDSM dynamics ultimately take place in this fic. Some are good BDSM practices/etiquette, some are not good. Professionals know the difference and this is not your guide to polyamory or BDSM. The poor etiquette will be rather obvious but if you’re interested in pursuing BDSM in your real life, please don’t use this work of fiction as gospel. Do your research and practice safely! 

My fictional stories are for ADULTS. Do not read them if you are under the age of 18. 

With all that out of the way, Please enjoy~ 

Chapter 1:

“I got this,” A panted breath.

“I got this,” A strained grunt.

“Nope I lied.” A loud thunk of a heavy box hitting green grass.

“Told ‘ya so.” The brunette breathlessly quipped from her position beside another box, her arms haphazardly flung over its surface. “Can we please take a break now?”

Admitting defeat, you fell in a heap on the lawn and nodded your head, but not before running your forearm across your sweaty brow. “Okay, yeah,” your reply was just as breathless although your friend had given up long before you. “Like five minutes.”

The other female placed her chin on the box, framing her head between her outstretched arms. “Okay, yeah, like fifteen minutes.” She echoed in a tired din, attempting to get you to thoughtlessly agree to her editing of the time.

Though tired with your legs and arms throbbing under the surface of your skin, you shook your head. “No Sasha,” you said firmly. Though it sounded like you were trying to convince yourself over her. “If we take longer than five minutes, we’re gonna quit and we’re almost done!” You gestured with an open palm to the admittedly small moving van parked in the street in front of you. You’d made good headway with it. It was amazing how much stuff you could fit in such a small van.

It was amazing how little space said stuff could take up in such a big home.

Well, big might be a little generous. It was by no means a mansion, certainly not as big as some of the other models on the same street, but it was bigger than your previous living conditions.

More importantly it was yours.

Yours.

You smiled, looking up at the bright sky above you, dotted with a few fluffy clouds.

Your first home.

Your heart sped up when you reminded yourself. You had doubts that it would ever happen. Saving enough money to put a down payment on a home without loans or handouts was no easy feat. But you did it, and that hard work had paid off in achieving your goal. Your down payment was enough to make the house payments bearable; though for the first few months you could see that a majority of your income would go back into the home either in the form of said payments, filling the home with furniture, or renovating some of the areas that needed love.

Like the front yard.

The front yard needed some love.

Not the lawn. The lawn was good. The lawn was providing you and Sasha with a much-needed reprieve. Yes, the lawn could stay.

You loved lawn.

Lawn loved you.

Until your arms started to itch. A less than intimidating growl left your lips as you quickly sat up, your nails digging into your skin as you scratched at it for some relief before flailing your arms about to try and save them from the irritation—as if you could shake it off your flesh.  

“Back to work.” You chirped, making Sasha groan.

“Remind me what I’m getting out of this again?” She mumbled, her face planting itself back to the box to muffle her protests.

Kicking yourself up to standing, you looked over your shoulder with a playful smile, “I’m feeding you.” You reminded her.

After a long pause, perhaps letting your words sink in, Sasha released a huff, lifting her face and flexing her small arms in her baggy t-shirt. “Second wind!” she shrieked by way of a battle cry, her hands clenching the cube between her legs in a vice grip as she moved to a squat, yanking the box off of the pristine lawn.

Who would take such good care of a lawn but ignore the rest of the yard? The previous owner apparently. Then again, it made a bit of sense. It was easy to turn on a sprinkler system to keep a lawn looking fresh whereas the things you wanted to add would take work. Like flowers. You loved flowers. Though you’d struggle on and off with a potentially green thumb, unlike your mother who could make anything grow. Planting flowers was a must. You would work your way to the backyard. But the front yard was like a first impression and you wanted it to be pretty for when friends came over as well as for the strangers that passed by. You wanted people to say, “Oh what a cute house. Whoever bought it really spruced up the place. It looks much better. Oh, it so does, blah blah blah.” Should you care what other people said? No. But you were human. Besides, your mother always kept an immaculate home, you wanted to emulate her in the maintenance of your own home.

As always you were getting too ahead of yourself. You were thinking twelve steps beyond where you were. That could be dangerous. Such thoughts could stimulate anxiety. Something you were unfortunately prone to. You took a deep breath, stealing your resolve to focus on the present moment.

You lifted your gaze, letting it drag over the neighborhood. “Find every color.” You murmured to yourself.

Red, the roses on the bush two houses down.

Orange, the moving van.

Yellow, your shirt.

Green, the lawn.

Blue, the sky.

Purple, your struggled to find purple and made a note to plant some purple pansies to rectify that.

Pink, the flowers of the magnolia tree next door.

You took a deep breath. This was your favorite grounding exercise you’d learned from therapy. It forced you to stay in the moment, steel yourself, and stop racing thoughts—often times before they happened since now you were much better at recognizing the warning signs. It took a lot of work to get to this point. It was work you were proud of.

You took another breath.

First the van. Empty the van. One thing at a time.

A huffing and puffing Sasha stumbled down the shallow steps of the front door—your front door you though joyously—with her hands on her hips, bent slightly at the waist to pin you with judgement. “Excuse me? Am I do’n all the work around here?”

You smirked, nudging the box in front of you with the toe of your shoe, the memory of your struggle to lift it still fresh in your mind. You weren’t in a hurry for a repeat performance in spite of your hassling of Sasha. “Depends, how big of a meal you want?” You teased her.

The brunette scoffed. “If you want me to go at it alone then you better be treating me to a buffet.”

You giggled, though a twinge of envy settled in your chest. Sasha was a petite thing considering how much she ate. You were not. The fact that she could eat so much and still keep her shape while you struggled around your weight made you jealous. The thought of going to a buffet filled you with dread. You always wondered what people thought when they saw someone of thicker size stepping into one of those. It triggered the self-consciousness you were working on diminishing. It wasn’t as though you were lazy, ugly, or any other stereotypical term that so wrongly coincided with your set. Hell, you’d moved over half your old residence by yourself. You were strong! Your body could do amazing things. You just didn’t match the image plastered all over social media and society of what a woman “should” look like.

Size 0 mannequins could go fuck themselves.

You had hips, you had a butt, you had ample breasts—all things sexualized excessively in the female form—you just also had a little extra. Thick thighs, a bit of a tummy—society wanted you to have tits and an ass but when you had the addition that often went with those things naturally, you were frowned upon. It was a complete catch 22. However, society wasn’t going to change, not overnight. So instead you worked on yourself—or rather your perception of self. Therapy helped, but it was an everyday battle to combat two parts of your brain. The half that liked and appreciated the many elements of you, including your body—and the half that was an asshole.

Right now, the asshole was winning. Because of this you had no interest in taking Sasha to a buffet—which meant you had to actually pick up the box you were glaring at.

Bending over, you hoisted the box into your arms with refreshed energy and groaned as you started to your home. “Remind me again why we didn’t recruit the guys?” You mumbled; your voice strained with effort. You probably had books in there. Yeah that was absolutely the book box. Should have spaced those damn things out. What kinda dumb ass were you to put almost all of them in one box?

“Oh, it’s not that much and they’re working, we can totally handle it.” Sasha said, her voice mimicking yours as best it could, though laced heavy with sarcasm. “That’s you. That’s how you sounded.”

You were kicking yourself, “Talk some sense into me next time.” You called, over your shoulder, dropping the box just inside the door where it was going to stay until you either, one, had the energy to move it, or two, had finished putting up your half book shelf.

It was probably going to live there for a while.

“Already thinking about ‘next time’? Oh, no, you’re not moving for at least 10 years. You can’t get me to do this again before that.” Sasha said sternly when you walked back outside to meet her by the van. “I’ll book you for 10 years from now.” You agreed, leaning against the side of the vehicle while Sasha took a moment to fix her ponytail which had gone messy with her unloading efforts.

Walking around to the back of the moving van, you leaned down to pick up another box, a smaller one than the last and took a moment to look over what was left. Just a few bigger items. They were bulky but between the two of you they wouldn’t be difficult to manage. Getting the bed frame and headboard up the stairs was going to be a pain in the ass, luckily TV’s were thinner now so that would be easy to get inside, the bedside tables were small and each of you could carry one of those, the dresser was going to be a bit of a bitch…

You bit your lip, looking over the items and making a list of difficulty in your head. Once again you were filling your mind with ‘to-do’s. Luckily, a voice pulled you out of your own thoughts as you backed down the van’s slope.

“Hello girls!”

You turned around to see an older woman toddling down the driveway beside your own, holding a tray with cookies and two glasses of what appeared to be lemonade.

Putting on your best ‘first impression’ face, you gave the woman a bright smile and placed the box down at your feet to greet the woman who was undoubtably one of your new neighbors. “Hello ma’am,” you said politely. Sasha was too busy drooling over the cookies in the woman’s hands.

“Please, please, call me Della.” She said, lifting the tray in her hands to present the offering to you and Sasha, who was quick to snatch the lemonade and two cookies, chewing both of them at the same time with happy hums and grumbles. You nudged her with your elbow silently scolding her for bypassing the introduction process. Della waved you off, having noticed the subtle action. “She’s absolutely fine! I’m thrilled to have someone enjoy my baking so much.”

All the same, you introduced yourself before taking your own cookie. “It’s nice to meet you Della. I’m [y/n] and this is Sasha.” You took the tray from her and placed it on one of the taller boxes so you could shake the woman’s hand. “Thank you so much for the lemonade and treats.” How on earth had the woman baked that fast? You’d only been there about two hours and these cookies were absolutely fresh out of the oven. Clearly you were living next door to a witch. A kitchen witch. You were totally okay with that so long as she directed her baking powers on you regularly.

“These are amazing.” You mumbled around a mouthful of warm cookie, the flavor sitting on your tongue for a moment, only to have your pallet cleansed by the lemonade.

Della gave a bright smile, “Well thank you dear. It’s nice to have another darling couple to bake for.”

Sasha spit out the lemonade she was sipping, her eyes popping out of her head as she coughed.

You swallowed your bite to try and keep from choking yourself. “Oh! Oh gosh no. No Sasha is just helping me move in. She’s my best friend.” You clarified calmly.

Sasha was thumping her fist to her chest in an attempt to clear her esophagus. “Connie would kill me.” She managed to choke out between wheezes.

“I think he would be down.” You murmured around another sip of lemonade, teasing her.

Della however covered her mouth, looking a little embarrassed by her assumption. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I guess I’m just so used to our other neighbors.” she trailed off, gesturing to the house on the other side of yours. You took that to mean that your other neighbors were a gay couple.

You shook your head, “Don’t worry about it!” Honestly, you were pleasantly surprised to have an older woman be so openly accepting and progressive. Having a neighbor like that wouldn’t be half bad. Especially if she made a habit of sharing her cooked concoctions.

It seemed you’d managed to move to a rather well-rounded neighborhood. It made a smile tug at your lips.

“Will you be living alone, dear?” Della asked, smoothing her hands over the apron tied around her waist. The action cause tiny plumes of flour to drift in front of her before her green eyes came up to regard you with her full attention. It must be her way to ask if you had a significant other that would be moving in alongside you. To some it may seem prying, but you didn’t blame her for wanting to know a little more about the person living right next door to her.

Nodding your head, you reached for another cookie. You probably wouldn’t have normally, sometimes you felt odd eating in front of others— it might have something to do with your negative self-image—but in this case it seemed rude to not show how much you enjoyed the treats after your neighbor slaved over them for you. So, you justified the second as you answered her question. “Yep, just me.”

Humming her understanding, Della nodded in response. “Well don’t you worry. This is a very safe neighborhood. I’ve never felt nervous living alone.” She assured you.

It was not something you’d even considered. You’d lived on your own before, in truth you just slept with a baseball bat under your bed or a heavy flashlight by your nightstand. You’d never had to use them of course, but better have it and not need it than to need it and not have it. You were confident in your ability to defend yourself. As confident as an untrained baseball bat wielder could be anyway. It’s not as though you knew martial arts.

“That’s reassuring.” You told Della with a smile who returned your kind expression. “If you ever need anything, do let me know,” she said softly, picking up the tray as you and Sasha placed your glasses on it—though she handed you the plate of cookies which was for your to consume at your leisure.  “Us girls gotta stick together.” She winked, pulling a giggle from you before she gestured with her chin to your other neighbor’s home. “We’re outnumbered by boys after all.” She was just teasing but it clarified your suspicion of your other neighbors being a male couple.

“They’re very kind,” she added, “So I’m sure they’ll tell you the same. It’s a very lovely neighborhood.” She gave a little curtesy since she couldn’t wave. “I’ll let you girls get back to it!” She called as she walked back up to her driveway.

You smiled back, waving as she made her way to her home, “Thank you again! It was nice to meet you!” You raised the plate of cookies to Sasha’s view once the woman had retreated into her house after the brief welcome. “These are gonna be gone.” You whispered, walking past her to get them to the empty kitchen before you and Sasha could turn them to crumbs.

“Don’t you owe me a debt?” Sasha called after you, picking up the box the tray had once sat on top of.

You gave her a look over your shoulder. “I’m not giving you all my welcome cookies. I’m ordering pizza later.” For a moment you contemplated hiding the sweets. But that wouldn’t protect them from you. Just Sasha and her ravenous hunger.  

It took a little under an hour to get the remainder of the van emptied, without any interruptions—no matter how pleasant. Assembling the bed was a bit of a pain, as suspected, but it was the only piece of furniture you were going to rope Sasha into helping you with. You’d bought a few new pieces of furniture that were still in boxes, which made them easier to pack, but you still had to assemble them. You were confident in your ability to do so on your own. You’d put together enough furniture in your time; and Sasha had done more than enough to earn her pizza.

Thus, the remainder of the evening consisted of eating said pizza, demolishing the plate of cookies, and yelling at reality stars through the television about their actions even though they couldn’t hear you nor Sasha. Thank god you had gotten the cable hooked up day one. You at least needed internet to watch Hulu and Netflix.

Your spunky brunette friend didn’t stay too late. Bless her, she took it upon herself to take the van back to the rental facility for you so you could continue to get settled. The most important piece of furniture was already complete, ready for you to pass out on it when you gave up on the boxes.

To your credit, you managed to unpack most things that didn’t involve the furniture still needing to be assembled. In fact, you unpacked and sorted all your kitchen ware very easily. The kitchen was a good place to start because it didn’t require the rearrangement of furniture which would inevitably come with unpacking areas like your bedroom. Empty cabinets, drawers, and countertops were a blank slate that only required methodical stuffing. Most people’s kitchens were relatively similar in where cutlery went, mixing bowls, cups, pots, and pans—there was only so much variability. It wouldn’t require the careful placement needed to make a space cozy and inviting. It just had to be functional and neat.

Another aspect that made the kitchen simple was your lack of items. Again, this home was much larger than your previous residence. It had much more space for things. Things you didn’t have but would come with time. You were rather excited to shop around for new things to fill your kitchen as well as the rest of your house.

You’d also managed to unpack some knick-knacks and items that would be set on already constructed furniture, like photographs of your family and friends. One of your favorite pictures included you, Sasha, and Connie in Disneyland. Because you were never too old to enjoy Disneyland. It had been your first trip with friends instead of family when you’d reached adulthood. You smiled fondly back at the joyous photo, all of you wearing Micky Mouse ears and grinning at the camera.

Connie and Sasha were two of your closest friends and though they were together romantically they never made you feel like a third wheel. You enjoyed their company dearly. The picture would get a place of honor in the living room before you went to bed that night, concluding your first day of unpacking.

-

The next two days went by in a blur of screws, hammers, nails, bubble wrap, newspaper, and boxes as you unpacked neatly tucked items and assembled furniture that was somehow always missing a screw or two that probably wasn’t important to the overall design anyway. Hopefully, the instructions were more like guidelines. So long as the furniture was sturdy and looked the way it did in the picture, it was fine. A lot of it was place holder furniture anyway. Rather cheap IKEA stuff that would serve to fill space and allow storage as you’d slowly accumulate nicer goods overtime.

It was a process, you reminded yourself, and the home wouldn’t be perfect or look like a catalog home right off the bat. It was what your mother had told you as well when you told her you were buying your first home. Her encouragement and soothing words also helped to keep you grounded much like the techniques you were still learning and utilizing from your time in therapy.

You’d hardly been out of the house since Friday when you first moved in and in spite of your fatigue caused by tedious unpacking, you were itching to start work on the front yard.

Not the backyard.  

That was an adventure you weren’t ready for. You didn’t have an idea mapped out for that yet and weren’t going to spin out trying to construct a plan for it. The backyard would be last. Mainly because that was going to be a big project. It wasn’t poorly maintained, but it was empty. It had a nice lawn, much like the front yard, but that was it.

A blank slate almost overwhelmed you more. It allowed too many options. When you were ready, you’d likely ask the opinion of your parents or friends. Picking their brain for ideas would be helpful and take some of the burden of decisions from your shoulders.

But that was another day, likely many weeks from where you stood now.

Where you stood now was The Home Depot, in the gardening section, looking over the flowers, shrubs, pots, and yard décor they had to offer.

As you promised yourself earlier, you picked up some purple pansies, leaving every other flower and shrubbery up to the whimsy of your mood. Once you had enough plant life to fill the sparce areas of your new home you picked out a few more gardening essentials that you were severely lacking in. Such as gardening gloves, a trowel, and a small bag of soil to fill the few cute pots you would put on the front porch containing succulents. Because succulents were hard to kill—and admittedly you were still a bit green regarding the whole gardening thing.

Pun very much intended.

You snorted at your own stupid joke.

People looked at you in the checkout line.

You looked away, chagrinned.

Quickly, you paid for your greenery items and scurried out to your car. You would start planting right when you got home. It was still early in the morning, hardly 9:00 am. Way earlier than you liked to get up if you were being honest. But, if you started now you could get most of it done before it got too hot.

-

This was Mike’s favorite way to start the morning. With his heart pounding in his ears to the tune of his running mix, his nose filled with the fresh scent of the creek’s running water, and his bare shoulders gently warmed by the sunlight dancing through the canopy of trees overhead.

Almost every day before work, Mike would jog down to the creek trail not far from the house, enjoy the scenery, make a loop or two around the two mile-long path, and then jog home. It was a routine that never changed. He’d been doing it for years now and the consistency was part of what grounded him. He would credit his morning run with assisting in coping with his PTSD. Going without triggered his anxiety and instantly set a poor tone for his day. As such, his boyfriends were good about allowing him to untangle from the sheets every morning, despite one not being a morning person—because he hardly slept in the first place— and the other being a bit of a cuddlier, though he would insist Mike was the cuddlier. Not himself.  

A smile tugged at Mike’s lips at the memory. He wiped his sweating brow with his shirt which was draped around his neck rather than on his body. He’d discarded it early in his run in favor of feeling the light breeze tickle over his bare torso.

His breathing changed as dirt road turned back into concrete when he turned from the creek trail back onto the sidewalk of the main streets of his neighborhood, making his way towards home.

As home came into view, his jog slowed to a walk, allowing his muscles to feel the rush of blood flow under his skin, the tingling throb of adrenaline cycling through his system becoming more noticeable with the shift of pace. Mike’s arms stretched over his head before bending at the joints. His hands folded behind his skull just under the knot of his blonde hair—the half up hairstyle keeping his shaggy bangs out of his face.

Getting closer to his home, he noticed a difference in the normally consistent pattern of houses along the street. A person was in the yard of the house beside his. Their old neighbor had never spent time tending to the yard. He hummed a curious sound. He hadn’t yet had the opportunity to introduce himself to their new neighbor. The “for sale” sign had been taken down days ago, and he vaguely remembered the presence of a moving van without occupants when he’d left for work that Friday.

Mike pulled his phone from his pocket, pausing his music before taking out one of his earphones as he got closer to the house. Though his own music was silenced, a new tune hit his ears, getting louder the closer he got to the kneeling form. The music wasn’t so loud that he would have to yell over it—he could probably clear his throat and the stranger would hear him.

With every intention to politely do just that, he opened his lips and—

Stopped dead in his tracks the moment he got behind the stranger because of what he was greeted by.

There you were, in front of him, on your hands and knees, back arched and your body at an incline as you dug the hole in front of you. But that’s not what got his attention. It was that your legging covered ass was perfectly on display, high in the air, round and inviting.

Mike stood there; mouth partially agape without realizing it. It was a few moments of ogling before he could take in more than that. He picked up your gentle voice, humming to the tune of what was playing on your portable speaker, he picked up the scent of flowers and damp earth, and he picked up on your doe like eyes wide with surprise. It was only then he noticed you had turned around away from your project, hand on your heart as you let out a yelp of surprise at finding someone standing behind you.

A giant standing behind you.

“H-hello…” you murmured, collecting yourself as you moved to turn down your music to a gentle background noise.  

Mike was able to take that time to gather himself. He quickly closed his mouth, clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck. The man made a conscious effort not to stare, though now that he could see your face it was becoming even more difficult. A cute face to go with a nice ass. A blush dusted his cheeks. Hopefully covered by the sun kissed pigment of his skin.

God willing.

“Uh sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He lifted his hand not currently on the back of his neck, pointing to the house to his left, the one with the magnolia tree. “M’name’s Mike Zacharias, I live next door.” He put on a smile though it was no less sheepish than his previous expression. “I hadn’t had the chance to introduce myself yet.” He was thankful to have a cover up to his staring.

You paused for a long moment, the gears in your head almost audible—then recognition flashed over your face. Part of you was trying to recall the conversation you’d had with Della on move in day, the other part was mesmerized by the husky voice.

The sudden brightness that filled in your eyes when you smiled had Mike’s heart in his throat.

“Oh! Yes,” Pulling yourself up to standing, you rubbed your palms together to brush off the dirt and then pulled off one of your gardening gloves, extending a clean hand to him. “I’m [y/n] [l/n]. It’s nice to meet you.” You were extremely eager to make a good impression on your neighbors. You thought you had done a pretty good job with Della—though her cookie offering had done most of the work for you. It was imperative you get along with Mike and his partner. After all, you’d gotten very lucky with most of your neighbors throughout your life. Most of that was due to your parents. Your mother was friendly, polite, and warm. Your father was boisterous, funny, and generous. You strived to offer the same mix to your neighbors and have a good relationship.

You had seen enough episodes of “Fear Thy Neighbor” to understand that a poor relationship on either side of you could wreck an otherwise comfortable home life.

Of course, “Fear Thy Neighbor” was the most dramatic of examples often leading to violence and murder.

You should probably stop watching the ID channel.

Stick to the stupid reality shows.

Mike swallowed thickly, the dusted pink in his cheeks brightening. His large palm engulfed yours and it was as if his blush traveled from his face, down his arm, through your hands and up to your own cheeks. His hand was huge, it practically swallowed yours. Your palm was completely swaddled by the deceptively gentle squeeze of a rough hand, slight calluses made firm by some sort of labor you couldn’t name.

With your surprise having warn off from the initial contact you found yourself fully registering the man in front of you—

And holy shit if your brain didn’t almost immediately short circuit again.

First of all, he was a giant. Already established—but something you didn’t truly comprehend until you’d stood and fully approached him from your botany project. If you dug the hole you were working on a little deeper, you were pretty sure you could plant Mike up to his knees and he’d continue growing into the tree he so clearly was.

Second of all there was his face which was generously exposed by his tied back dark blond hair. Hazelly-green eyes, pronounced nose—that fit him perfectly, and a strong jaw lightly bearded along it as well as his upper lip.

Your eyes followed the curve of his jaw down his neck, past his broad shoulders and onto a sparsely haired chest just where his defined pectorals met. If you followed the path from his chest down to his toned stomach, which you absolutely did, you found the same light etching of hair extending from his navel down to his—

Your eyes quickly darted back up to his face, your own heating up substantially as your hands all too soon disconnected.  

Mike placed his hands on his hips which served to flex his strong arms and momentarily distract you again.

If you could have slapped yourself subtly, you would have done so. But with those hazel eyes boring into you, you settled for mentally berating your thirst. ‘Get it together woman. He’s taken… and gay.’ But gay came second to taken. It was important to respect a preexisting relationship. It was important to respect sexuality too.

But—

You could look, right? No harm in looking. That’s why people went to museums. To drool over the Statue of David.

That throaty voice pulled you back to focus. “So, is it just you?” If you weren’t completely sure that the man in front of you was gay, the question would have sounded hopeful.

He must have just been asking so he could introduce himself to any other potential newcomers.

“Yep just me. It’s my first house.” He didn’t ask for that second part, but you were proud. You were proud of having your own home and doing so alone. You didn’t have to depend on anyone to get to this important step in your life. That wasn’t something many people could say. You weren’t trying to brag—it was just that residual excitement of having achieved one of your life goals.

Mike to his credit seemed excited for you. His eyebrows raised, as if impressed. Buying a home was getting harder and harder for every generation. Though he didn’t seem too much older than you. Probably in his early 30’s. Even if he were ten years older than you that would be a generational gap and that meant the struggles to find a home were different between the two of you. However, you didn’t think he could be that much older than you considering you were in the later part of your 20’s. 30’s seeming to creep ever closer. But seeing Mike reminded you that your 30’s didn’t make you old in the slightest. The more you looked at Mike, the better your 30’s looked. Because fuck if Mike wasn’t fine as hell.

You were thinking too far ahead again, this time years.

To pull yourself from your spinning thoughts, you looked back at Mike’s face. The smile momentarily dazed you. Because of course he would also have perfect teeth. “Congratulations, that’s wonderful.” He murmured, looking to your house for a moment and then back at you. The house was rather large for one person. “No significant other chomping at the bit to invade your space yet?” The tone was teasing, and you managed a laugh which dispelled your previously spiraling thoughts. God, sometimes you didn’t even notice when they were spiraling.

Mike seemed interested in your relationship status. It put little butterflies in your stomach which were squashed when you looked down at yourself. Even if Mike were interested in females, why would he be interested in you?

You growled internally at those disparaging thoughts to shut the fuck up. You counted to three in your head, a brief distraction from those thoughts used to ground you in the present.

Normally, you preferred your longer methods of distraction, like your colors. However, those weren’t feasible when in the middle of a conversation with your hot neighbor.

“Nope, no boyfriend or anything. Just me and maybe a dog or a cat at some point.” You grinned at the idea, reminding yourself that now that you had your own home no one could tell you if you could have a pet or not. No landlord, no parent, no roommate—no permission needed.

The twinkle in Mike’s eye was easily missed. “My votes’ for a cat,” he murmured offhandedly.

“Not a dog fan?” You asked playfully. Though maybe he was worried about you having a yappy dog that he would have to listen to all day. Understandable.

“No, I like dogs too,” Did his voice get a little deeper? “Just always been fond of kittens.” His eyes slid over you, a smile tugging at his lips that made your blush from earlier give an encore performance.

‘Taken. And. Gay.’ You reminded yourself, willing the blush to dissipate and scolding yourself for reading too much into his gaze. Schooling your expression with the same friendly smile you’d given Della; you nodded your head. “Well I’ll just have to drag you along when I adopt one, then you can play with some pussy.”

Oh lord.

That was a Freudian slip if there ever was one.

You felt your face go hot and resisted the overwhelming compulsion to connect your palm to your forehead. Inappropriate joke for a first meeting—for sure.

Mike’s eyes flashed with something you couldn’t name, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I’ll take you up on that,” he grinned, and the expression was playful, putting you a bit more at ease. “It’s been far too long since I’ve played with a cute pussy.”

Your thighs squeezed together. Unnoticeably, you prayed.

Mike must have been messing with your somewhat unintentional word choice. Though you were happy that Mike seemed to be the lighthearted type. You could see yourself forming a friendship with the man. Hopefully, his boyfriend (husband?) was half as laid back.

You also hopped his partner was half as sexy.

Because if he was just as sexy as Mike, you were going to suffer a heat stroke.

The giant grinned, tilting his head to gesture to his home. “I gotta get ready for work.” Was it your imagination or did he look a bit reluctant? His grin was back in place too soon to really tell. You nodded your head politely with a little wave just before he turned away.

“It was nice to meet you.” You called, getting back on your knees next to the little pit you’d dug for your shrub.

The blond looked over his strong shoulder as he made his way down the sidewalk and threw you a very obvious wink. “Catch ya later, kitten.” He replied before he rounded his driveway and walked up to his front door, giving you one more glance and disappearing inside the much larger home.

Blinking, you sat frozen for a few moments before your eyes drifted to the hole beside you. Maybe if you dug it a bit deeper you could bury yourself in it.

Because Mike was surely going to be the death of you.

-

When Mike got back into the house, he had to lean against the door, tilting his head back to let the cooling air of the AC drench his heated skin. Though at this point the heat was less from his run and more from the cute new neighbor. It took everything in his power not to pin you to the dirt right there. He let out a little groan, hardly audible.

But just audible enough.

A voice, smooth as honey called from around the corner. “Mike? You alright?”

Mike hummed an affirmative and pushed himself off the door to make his way to the kitchen where the voice was coming from. If he didn’t answer right away, he knew the male would come searching for him and instantly begin to drill him on his mental state. There was no need for that.

His mental state was good. Very good this morning.

His large palm came up to slide over the marble of the kitchen island as he bypassed it to get to the fridge, sticking his head in for longer than necessary to retrieve a water bottle. A soft crack filled the room as he twisted the cap, breaking the seal as he turned to face the kitchen table. Two sets of eyes peered over at him. One set a bright blue; the color of the ocean, the other a stormy grey sky.

The honey voice spoke again, the blue eyes having been peering behind a newspaper completely revealed by its placement on the table. “Good run I take it?”

“Looks a little too happy about a run, Erwin.” The stormy eyed male murmured from behind a teacup held at the rim.

Mike smirked a little. Levi always was perceptive. They both were. But Levi noticed subtleties far more quickly than Erwin did. “I met our new neighbor.” He brought the opening of the bottle to his lips, letting the chilled liquid sooth his throat of the dryness from his run.

“Oh?” Erwin asked, leaning back in his seat and tilting his head back as a silent hint for Mike to lean down to him. Levi was good at noticing subtleties, but Mike was good at reading hints. He leaned down and pressed his lips to Erwin’s, his own cool and water glazed compared to Erwin’s soft and warm ones. “Mm hm,” He confirmed while righting himself. “And Levi,” Mike moved to the other side of the table, tilting Levi’s head back with a fingertip to direct his gaze to him which had been glued upon the novel in his left hand. The ravenette looked up from his book with the giant’s prompting, gaze aloof and seemingly disinterested. However, the look in Mike’s eyes gave him pause.

Since Mike knew Levi, really knew him, he noticed the curiosity lingering behind that seemingly blank expression.

Mike pecked his lips to the shorter male’s, whispering against them. “She’d be perfect.”

#attack on titan fanfiction #levi x erwin x mike x reader #levi ackerman x erwin smith x mike zacharias x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #erwin smith x reader #erwin x reader #mike zacharias x reader #mike x reader #aot modern au #thick reader #thick!reader #plus size!reader #plus size reader

[tansypoisoning]

Tansy’s Spooky Challenge

Because the World is terrifying :D

To celebrate this milestone (1k followers :O) I’m starting a challenge which hopefully will give back to this community in terms of exposure of less known authors (or just authors that aren’t known by my followers) and in creating more stories. I’m so thankful for all the attention I’ve been given, and I hope to give you guys my attention as well.

I love writing challenges because they give authors motivation to write (sometimes even things out of their comfort zone), because they’re a great way for writer’s to promote themselves, and because it’s a great way for the person hosting it to find more stories and authors they could end up being big fans of :D I especially encourage people with less followers, or whose works I haven’t read to participate.

The main objective of this challenge is to write something that has an element of horror in it. It can range from a situation that seemed scary but is okay, to something that is a little eerie, to pure unadulterated terror. As for rules:

You DON’T have to be following me to participate.

You have to enter with a reader insert/OC fic. There doesn’t have to be any smut or shipping, and if there is, the relationship DOESN’T HAVE to be about dark!character or dark!reader.

I’ll read works for any fandom, but the ones I’m most familiar with are Marvel, Overwatch, Snowpiercer, Knives Out, Naruto, Avatar:The Legend of Aang

You can submit drabbles, one-shots, or an entry of a serialized story.

A single prompt CAN be used by more than a single person.

The fanfics can be of any length, but if they’re on the longer side, please try putting a ‘Read More’ in there somewhere to avoid making things difficult for people reading on phones.

Things that are not allowed in terms of content: underage sex, bestiality, graphic child abuse (allusions are ok) I don’t think anyone would submit an entry that I would have reservations reblogging, but if in doubt you can ask me for help. Give warnings for any sensitive topic you bring up.

Tag your fic with “TansySpookyChallenge2020”

Send me an ask or dm telling me you posted it, preferably a dm. Asks can get eaten by the inbox, and tagging doesn’t always work.

Deadline is November 24th. You can DM for extensions

PROMPTS BELOW

Choose one item from each list and work them into a story. I allow and encourage trying to game the system with multiple interpretations of a term, less literal readings, or wordplay.

List 1

Happiness

Jealousy

Nostalgia

Desperation

Fury

Triumph

Sadness

Acceptance

Fervor

Disgust

Awe

Confusion

Hope

Craving

Foreboding

Denial

Loss

Ennui

Adoration

Sympathy

Pain

Betrayal

Commiseration

Anxiety

Rancor

Determination

List 2

Sink or swim

Chokecherry

Crossroads

“Let me see what you have.” “A knife!”

French vanilla

Something forgotten long ago

The shore

The eye of the storm

Bathtub

Corn hell

Down by the river

Baby’s breath

A little fire

An old saloon

Unearthed bones

On the move

Before dawn

Dead men walking

By candlelight

Frankenstein

Prima Donna

A hill about a mile outta town

First dance

Ritual

Underground

A small request

These text prompts can be used however you want: whether you want to have them in your story in their entirety, use bits, write something around them, something inspired by them, or just something you think has a similar feel. Just let me know which you picked.

There is a Corvette parked in front of the building, just by the front door. You approach the vehicle as if compelled by an invisible force and look in through the closed window. There’s none inside, but you see, in the driver's seat, illuminated by the neon lights of the bar, a white cowboy hat with a golden band. This isn’t the first time you see this hat.

The hole is no more than eight feet long and three feet wide. You peer in deeper, but you can’t see the bottom. There’s a soft but grating sound coming from somewhere within, like sharp nails raking against a metal plate. You can’t see the bottom, but you think you can see movement inside.

You abandon the warmth of the laundromat for the biting cold of the outside world. To your right, the road extends for miles and miles into the night, as it does to your left. There’s no place for you to go, but you can’t go back inside.

The light of the neon sign proudly displaying “Rising Sun Motel” shines through your door. You had closed and locked it before taking your shower – you know you had, because you do it in every room you rent. You take a cursory glance of your surroundings. Nothing is out of place or missing. Must be a faulty lock. The night is windy and could have pushed the cheap door open. You go to lock it again, and when you turn around you see that the closet door is slightly ajar.

The land is flat as far as the eye can see and identical houses with identically manicured lawns sprout from it as far as the eye can see. You run up and then down the street (or is it down and then up?) but you can’t seem to find anything else. The people look so friendly when they smile and wave as they pass you by, but you don’t ask them for directions. You look at your phone. You have signal, but all you can get your internet to show you are advertising for washing machines and sites with recipes for awful things preserved in aspic. The date and hour on your home screen keep changing. You’re positive you’ve been in this place for hours, but the sun won’t set.

“B-but… I don’t understand...” “We have checked the security footage three times and found nothing. There are also no signs of forced entries. No fingerprints.” “-My phone! I took pictures, I know I took-!” “We found nothing on your phone, in the SD card, or in the Cloud. There’s nothing.” “That’s impossible!” “We searched as much as we could. I’m sorry, but… are you sure-” “I know what I saw! I know it! Look again!” You aren’t imagining things. It couldn't have been your mind. It couldn't, it couldn’t, it couldn't

What kind of convenience store has taxidermy heads for decoration? You ask yourself as you roam the aisles of the near empty shop. You peek from behind a row of shelves to one side and spot the clerk. He’s old and severe looking, and although his pupils are pointed in your direction, you get the distinct feeling he’s looking right through you. You move your head to the other side of the shelves and spot another one of those fucking deer heads. This one’s large, wet eyes are turned to a fixture in the ceiling, but you would swear it’s watching you.

Rain pelts you as you stand at the dock, waiting. You hope your boat will arrive soon. You look over your shoulder into the mist and see nothing that should give you pause, but your leg still won’t stop shaking. You touch your arm by reflex and wince when you brush your cut. You think your makeshift tourniquet is working, but it looks fragile, like it could get dismantled at any second. In this weather, you’re sure is just a matter of time. You look over your shoulder again. Still nothing, but you fear it won’t last. You hope your boat will arrive soon.

The living room is dark, but you don’t turn on the lights. You are still too close. You move to the kitchen, and there you feel safe enough to reach for the switch. The illuminated room, much larger than it needed to be, is a ghastly land of contrasts. The many counters and their many marble tops are covered in trash. The tile floors, formerly clean enough to eat out of, are now muddied, not a single spot spared. The eyes of the two stoves are covered by pans and pots boiling foul mixtures. Through the window you can see the sprawling lawn and walls of hedges. They will hide you, but for how long? There is something waiting for you in the hallway, something terrible. You have to address it before sunrise, but for now you’ll wait here. The kitchen isn’t half as bad as the rest of the house.

‘The Bystander Effect’ is the term used to describe the phenomenon in which people don’t intervene in emergency situations when in a group, and, the larger the group, the less likely they are to intervene. You know this to be true, even without doing any research, as you hobble your way through the maze of alleyways. Your cries for help had gone unanswered, bouncing off the concrete walls into a multitude of uncaring ears. It’s just how it is in the big city – every man for himself, and the devil take the hindmost. So much for safety in numbers. The truth is, in this city, surrounded by all these people, you’re more alone than you’d ever been.

You take the first step with care, mindful of all the ice. The second is a little clumsier. On the third you almost slip. You skip the fourth and fall on the fifth, rolling down the stairs and landing face first in the snow. You scramble to get back to your feet and run to your car. You have to get home. You lock yourself in and don’t bother with the safety belt. You shove the key in the ignition and turn and turn but nothing happens. Did you leave it in the cold too long, or- There’s no time to think about it. You step out of the car and start running, into the freezing night. You have to get home, you have to get home now.

Cleanup time is always a hassle. You wish you didn’t have to do it, but it wouldn’t be fair to leave the mess all to your partner. You two near the open trunk of the car and load the heavy cargo into it. Your companion seems the most affected by the weight, and you offer an apologetic smile. Fair is fair though; it was your turn to carry the feet end.

Skinny dipping had seemed like a good idea when your friend suggested it earlier, under the sweltering sun. Now, standing in front of the pool in your bathing suit, all by your lonesome, you start to regret having agreed to her scheme. Wasn’t she supposed to have arrived forty minutes ago? She said she’d bring people too, because skinny dipping alone isn’t fun. Well, now you are all alone in the cold, and you suspect that is even less fun. Just as you make up your mind to leave, you see a car through the chain link fence. It pulls up just before the gate and the engine turns off. That must be them.

#TansySpookyChallenge2020

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2020 Day 5: Case Fic

Fearful | @deansrightfulangerissue

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1430 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Universe, IT Crossover, Angst Summary: It comes for children, it feeds on their fears. Dean and Cas arrive to end its reign of terror.

He Wanted More (WIP) | @becky-srs

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1621 Main Tags/Warnings: #HeWantedMore #Destiel Summary: After years of self-denying and depressing Dean realized he's in love with Cas. Cas loves him too but this two morons won't see it, until Sam takes of with Eileen to a romantic vacation and put Dean and Cas on a case with a monster who kills gay couples what takes them to be an undercover couple... may the cover fall and revel their true feelings?

Curse me | @notfunnydean

Rating: General Word Count: 3099 Main Tags/Warnings: Dean loves balett!! Summary: Dean had always loved ballet, even though he never told anyone about that. When he and Sam find cursed ballet shoes, Dean can’t resist and tries them on anyway. He gets surprised in more than just one way.

Lost and Found | @unforth & @deansrightfulangerissue

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4885 Main Tags/Warnings: Horror, Ambiguous Ending, Memory Alteration Summary: Dean and Sam's hunt in a haunted forest was bullshit from the moment the fog rolled in. And then the ghost silenced the world.

On This Night | @mittensmorgul

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 5688 Main Tags/Warnings: case fic, djinn, fluff, dean knows his tropes Summary: Something goes terribly wrong while hunting a djinn. Newly-human Cas had never considered what the effects of djinn poison could be for a human, and struggles to remember why everything seems just so slightly off when he wakes up back at the cabin he and Dean had been staying in during the hunt. The cabin has been transformed with holiday decorations, and Cas wonders just how long he'd been unconscious. Only when he tries to get answers from Dean, reality comes crashing back in on them both, in the best of all possible ways.

Heavenly Flavor | @songbird211

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7190 Main Tags/Warnings: First Time/Fluff/lust monster/Sam Ships It/Anal/Blowjobs/Nipple Play/Top Dean/Top Cas/Bottom Dean/Bottom Cas/Voyeurism/Wing Kink/Love Confession Summary: During a case involving college men going missing Dean and Cas are taken by the creature responsible. This creature loves having sex with humans, hence the kidnappings, but this time she wants to fulfill her fantasy of watching two men have sex and she thinks Dean and Cas will do nicely.

The Unexpected Consequences of Amnesia | @pray4jensen

Rating: Mature Word Count: 10539 Main Tags/Warnings: Casefic, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Jealousy, Secret Relationship, Miscommunication, Dubious Consent Summary: When a spell backfires and results in Sam losing a year’s worth of memories, Sam’s really not that worried. After all, Dean reassures him that he hasn’t missed much and for the first time in a long time, the supernatural world’s at peace. Except then Dean and Cas exchange a look. Except then Sam keeps seeing them sneak around at night, into each other’s bedrooms, or whispering stealthily into each other’s ears whenever they think that he’s not looking. So naturally, Sam just has to investigate. Or the one where Sam obliviously and almost single-handedly brings about the collapse of Dean and Cas’ marriage in the span of one week.

Angeleech | @noiproksa

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 14457 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Compliant, Team Free Will, Hugs, Family Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Castiel, Banter, Platonic Cuddling, Sharing a Bed, Case Fic Summary: It was supposed to be an easy hunt, but then everything goes sideways. Dean and Sam have to take care of an injured Cas and find out what is going on with the angel before it is too late. (Intended as gen, but can be read as Destiel pre-slash.)

Ten Inch Hero | @banshee1013

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 16689 Main Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Canon Compliant, Case Fic, Season/Series 15 Spoilers, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Witch Curses, Castiel/Dean Winchester in the Men of Letters Bunker, Researching Sam Winchester, No Archive Warnings Summary: After returning from Purgatory the second time, Castiel and Dean were just beginning to explore the new direction of their relationship, when on a case involving missing hunters, Dean is struck by a witch's curse and turned into a ten-inch plastic figurine. Can Sam find a way to revert the effects of the curse and return Dean to himself before the tiny spark of life Cas detects in him fades away? Or will Cas lose Dean just as their relationship has begun?

Trouble in Paradise | @its-funnier-in-klingon

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1746 Main Tags/Warnings: canon divergence, human!Cas, post 14x09, Hawaii, case fic, bed-sharing, ghosts, mutual pining Summary: Sam finds a case where gay couples are being tormented by a ghost in a resort in Kauai, Hawaii. Sam, Dean, Cas, and Jack embark to the resort where Dean and Cas must go undercover to take down the ghost, all while trying to sort through all their own personal issues.

Unthought Known | @noiproksa

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 18337 Main Tags/Warnings: Temporary Amnesia, Profound Bond, Team Free Will, Banter, Canon Compliant, Hugs, Case Fic, Soul Bond Summary: Dean wakes up in an abandoned mental institution with no memories and two strange guys, ‘Sam’ and ‘Castiel.’ They have to work together if they want to find out who they are and what happened to them. And what the hell is this profound bond he seems to share with Castiel? * Dean woke up with a pounding headache on the floor of a bright white, windowless room and no recollection of how he got there. What the hell was he doing in what looked like some sort of psych ward? Before he could get his bearings, he heard moaning coming from behind him and got to his feet, swiveling around, ready to fight whoever was in the room with him. ‘Whoever’ turned out to be two someones. One man with abnormally long hair and one guy in a trench coat who had a ‘tax accountant’ vibe to him. Who were these clowns? (Intended as gen, but can be read as Destiel pre-slash.)

Suck It, Judy Garland | @midrashic

Rating: Mature Word Count: 20116 Main Tags/Warnings: N/A Summary: It had to be St. Louis. Or, the one where Sam and Cas get fake married for a case, and Dean loses his mind.

Making it Up as We Go | @Foxymoley

Rating: Mature Word Count: 24439 Main Tags/Warnings: Case fic, ghost, Angel!Cas, choose your own adventure Summary: A choose your own adventure story! The Winchester's catch a case—an ordinary salt and burn—but Dean's decisions along the way are up to you!

The Memory Remains | FriendofCarlotta (AO3)

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 28408 Main Tags/Warnings: Case fic, post-canon, POV Dean Winchester Summary: With Chuck defeated, Dean's trying hard to get his head back in the game. What he needs is a bit of peace and quiet, and maybe a nice, straightforward hunt. What he most definitely doesn't need is this thing about monsters trying to summon some kind of hermaphroditic goat person. Or dealing with Cas, whose powers are still failing and who is acting more human in increasingly disconcerting ways.

Human Error | @jemariel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 33435 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate season 9, case fic, wendigos, human Castiel, Cas in the bunker, miscommunication, drunk sex, top!Dean, bottom!Cas, 69 (sex position), bedsharing Summary: Cas is human now, and things aren't going to plan. (Not that Dean had a plan. Nope. No plans of any kind.) Anyway, what's a Winchester to do when everything he tries seems to blow up in his face? Go hunting. Obviously.

Fade to Hell | @alisuwink **Also in English**

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 37549 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Sam Winchester,Alastair (Supernatural), Bobby Singer, Slow Burn, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Universe, Season/Series 05, Fanart, Action/Adventure, Violence, Dark, Humor, Hell, Tortured Dean Winchester, Madness, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester Summary: It didn’t seem to be enough with Lucifer wandering free and the Apocalypse up our asses. Of course not! Now, Sammy’s soul has ended in fucking Hell, and I have no choice but to go down to that fucking hole with Castiel. When we rescue Sam, he is going to be buying me beers for the rest of his damn life. *Note: the fic is finished in Spanish, I'll have it in English by June.

Highway 9 | @ellis-park

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 38909 Main Tags/Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, mutual pining, suicide attempt Summary: Dean Winchester is a private investigator working what should be an open-and-shut vandalism case on an isolated stretch of rural highway. Except it’s not an open-and-shut case, because whatever is happening on Highway 9 isn’t vandalism — it’s something far more sinister and unnatural. And if Dean is going to get to the bottom of this case, he’s going to have to rely on the one person he’s learned he can’t rely on for anything — his ex-best friend, Cas Novak.

Someone Who’s Feeling for Me | @ellis-park

Rating: Mature Word Count: 45876 Main Tags/Warnings: Mutual pining, case fic, canon universe Summary: Dean sees her for the first time in nearly six years in some no-name town in Idaho, and it's panic at first sight. Lisa Braeden, the one woman Dean ever actually had a shot at a real life with, back from where he buried her in his mind. And her hand is on Cas's arm like it's no big deal, like it belongs there. Cas, Dean's dorky, sweet, badass, angelic best friend, and he's just standing there next to Lisa and not moving her hand away. Dean feels the jealousy rising, and it's not directed where he expected it to be. Because it takes this exact moment for Dean to realize he's in love with his best friend. He's in love with his best friend, and Lisa is looking at Cas like he's the best thing since automatic rifles, and Dean is utterly fucked.

Silver and Cold | @pomegranatedaffodil

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 64851 Main Tags/Warnings: Case Fic, Hunter Castiel, Small Town Setting, Religious Themes, Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Injuries, Minor Character Death,Tragic Backstory, Nightmares, Angst with a Happy Ending, Switching Summary: The death of a young man in an apparent animal attack brings hunter Cas Novak to the small town of Sydnam, Maine. It doesn’t take long for him to realize he’s tracking a werewolf, but discovering the killer’s identity is no easy task. All signs point towards Dean Winchester, a lonely recluse who lives in the middle of the woods and whose antagonistic behaviour does little to lessen Cas’ suspicions. As the investigation drags on, their mutual distrust gives way to a wary alliance. Cas’ instincts warn him that Dean is hiding something, but as he uncovers the man beneath the mystery, his professional interest becomes far more personal. Praying his faith in Dean isn’t misplaced, Cas races to catch the killer before the next full moon rises and another life is abruptly cut short.

#destiel trope collection 2020 #destiel trope collection #Destiel #case fic #day 5

[2seokfan]

Scarlet & Hazel | Ch. 4

pairings: hoseok x reader x yoongi

genre: fluff, very light angst, smut (future)

warnings: mentions of physical abuse

word count: 5.3k

chapters: ch.1, ch.2, ch.3, ch.4

summary:

Just cause you’re living paycheck to paycheck in a tiny apartment even after graduating college doesn’t mean you’re not happy. So what if your best friend is working her dream job making close to six figures every year?  So what if she’s in a loving, committed relationship with her perfect boyfriend that you’re 99% sure is going to propose to her sometime next year? It doesn’t matter that your idea of a perfect relationship is a $9.99 bottle of wine on Friday nights while you binge watch Netflix specials.

Ok so maybe you’re a teensy bit miserable. Maybe you have no idea what you’re doing with your life. Maybe all you need to do is accidentally cross paths with two hybrids who will drastically change that.

Meet “Scarlet” and “Hazel”, two of the most gorgeous hybrid men you have ever laid eyes on. With their help, you learn that life is an adventure, a roller-coaster with ups and downs, and you were too preoccupied with yourself to climb out of your own predicament. And hey, you’re not much of a romantic, but with these two, you just might change your mind.

a/n: Y/N gets the surprise of her lifetime today! Also to clarify, The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly is an old cowboy movie with a very famous theme song (just in case some people don’t get the reference). Thank you for being patient! Please let me know if you have any questions or concerns!

tag list: @wilhelminalucinda @ghostkat23 @ayoo-bangtan @sadgurllayha 

How come whenever you’re excited for something, time purposely slows down?? It’s like the weekend can’t come fast enough. Each day feels like a whole week and each hour stretches like two. You swear the clock hanging on the wall of your clinic has some sort of personal grudge against you, the second hand moving at the pace of a snail.

You’re currently on the last two hours of your shift. The hustle and bustle of morning appointments have died down but that doesn’t stop the constant train of incoming calls. You wonder if there’s an award out there for maintaining a professional voice after getting asked stupid questions, because you deserve that award, exhibit A being the person you’re dealing with right now. You pick at your nails while you balance the work phone on your shoulder.

“Sorry ma'am we’re actually a hybrid clinic so no, I can’t put your son down for a checkup. Mhm. Mhm. Uh huh.” You peel off a hangnail and flick it into the trash can under your counter. “I understand you're frustrated but none of our doctors specialize in human treatment. May I suggest the hospital? Ok have a good day now. Bye.”

You hang up as a string of expletives are leaving the receiving end of your phone. What part of ‘hybrid clinic’ did she not understand?

You lean back into your office chair, vowing for the 100th time to invest in one of those lumbar support pillows for your poor, aching body. Checking today’s schedule, you see that a first-time client should be coming in any minute now. Her voice had sounded eerily familiar when she called all those days ago, but you didn’t bother to think twice.

Right on cue, you hear the clinic door open. A very familiar arctic fox hybrid is ushered in by her impatient owner.

“Hurry up won’t you! We don’t have all day!” 

Yep. That’s blondie alright.

Sylvia has already recognized you, giving you a small smile when her owner isn’t looking. You’re shocked by her appearance, small cuts and bruises adorning her face and a noticeable bandage around her left wrist. You smile back, trying to make her feel as comfortable as possible.

Blondie hasn’t noticed your presence yet, currently rummaging through her gigantic purse for a pen. She freezes when she finally looks up, making eye contact with you.

You both narrow your eyes like it’s some sort of cowboy showdown in the old west, theme song from The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly playing in the background. If it weren’t for the counter in front of you you’d probably be slowly circling each other, hands ready to draw your pistols from your holsters.

Except it’s the 21st century and all you can do is clench your jaw and offer her a steely glare.

“What are you doing here?” Blondie is the first to break the silence.

“I work here,” you say matter of factly.

“Don’t you own hybrids?” Her voice is menacing, but it doesn’t mask her confusion. “How can a receptionist afford two hybrids?”

“I’m here on my off time cause I have nothing else to do.” You find it so much easier to lie to her now that you’ve successfully done it before. No harm in stretching your little fable.

Blondie huffs, having no rebuttal ready.

“Anyways, I need you to fill this out here.” You decide not to push her temper further since you’re at work and need to act civilly. You hand her the basic information form and contact the doctor about their arrival. 

While blondie is busy filling out the paperwork, you make quick eye contact with Sylvia, mouthing a silent ‘are you ok?’ to her. She gives you a tense nod but nibbles on her bottom lip and shifts her pupils in blondie’s direction. You can’t forget that look on Sylvia’s face, one of desperation and misery, and you want so badly to pull her out of this situation.

Blondie finishes and hands the papers back to you. You glance down and find her name on the forms. “And Karen,” of course her name is ‘Karen’, “how did Sylvia get these injuries?”

A flicker of panic flashes across her features but it instantly disappears into a frown. 

“She fell down the stairs.” Karen snaps, then proceeds to tap her foot impatiently. “Well? I’ve got an appointment??”

You sigh and swallow down the urge to talk back. “Dr. Lao is ready for you. Just head down the hall and into the office on your left.” 

Karen puts her pen back in her purse, then grabs her fox by the elbow and pulls her down the hallway, out of sight. When they disappear, you sit back and take the time to process what just happened.

You don’t believe for one minute that Sylvia fell down the stairs. Her injuries seem obviously inflicted by another person, most likely Karen, but you don’t want to jump to conclusions. Since you have no proof, you can’t really report the issue. Also you’re well aware of how corrupted Hybrid Services are and you don’t want to leave Sylvia in their hands. 

The phone rings, bringing you back to your senses. Oh yeah, I’m still at work. You remind yourself to google some safe hybrid help centers when you get home. There’s nothing you can do now but you’ll be damned if you won’t try.

The two emerge from the checkup after an hour or so. Karen turns to your counter, face still in her signature scowl as she approaches you.

“I need to schedule a second appointment.” Her tone sounds a little stiff, as if she didn’t want this outcome. “Sylvia will need another checkup for her wrist.” Her entire demeanor is suspicious to you at this point. When you met her for the first time, you were only focused on getting her to stop bothering your two hybrid friends. You regret not noticing her obvious physical aggressiveness.

As the two head out, Sylvia turns back and gives you a small ‘bye’. You melt at how cute she is despite all her injuries. You give her one last wave, determination welling up inside.

You head home and immediately dive to your laptop. Sylvia’s next checkup isn’t till two weeks later so you want to use that time to become as productive as you can in finding the numbers of various hybrid centers. Even though your work revolves around hybrids, you have no personal experience helping any of them out of trouble so you need the advice of professionals. You have no idea what any of these centers can do and you’re aware that your lack of information means you’re starting from scratch but you refuse to sit by and do nothing. Not when something fishy is obviously going on.

You’re surprised to find no decent hybrid centers, even though you live in a pretty big city. Most seem like shady adoption centers that put in the bare minimum amount of effort in taking care of and re-homing their hybrids. One center was so repulsive you’re surprised they’re legally allowed to operate. You click on their ‘About’ page for shits and giggles and the description makes you want to gag. ‘Having problems with your hybrid? Don’t worry! Call this number and we’ll take them off your hands!’ What the actual fuck!? It’s like one of those junk collecting commercials where they take away your old furniture except they’re talking about living, breathing hybrids, not an old refrigerator. This goes to show how little the government actually cares about hybrids and you find yourself involuntarily clenching your fists.

After a few websites that lead nowhere, you stumble across one for a Hope Hybrid Center that seems promising. The description indicates how they’re dedicated to the ‘safety and comfort of all hybrids without discrimination’. The only catch is that the particular center in your city has just been built and will not open till later this week. Nevertheless, you decide to trust this location since there are several other branches under the same name littered across the country that all have raving reviews. You bookmark the page and remind yourself to contact their main call center tomorrow.

You don’t know what’s come over you. It’s true you’ve always had a soft spot for hybrids, and you’ve always been in full support of every new law that passes, bringing them closer to citizenship. But you’ve never been this passionate about personally helping them. It’s a good feeling, being actively involved in something you care about. Saving your two hybrid friends two months ago has really opened your eyes to what human bystanders can do. Every action, big or small, can have an impact and you mentally scold yourself for not being aware of your surroundings previously. Oh how ignorant you were.

The rest of your research is futile, and you end up closing your laptop with a sigh of defeat. This is all you can do right now. Who do you think you are? Some sort of vigilante? What power do you have to make any change?? You’re just one silly receptionist against the big bad world.

Before you start mentally beating yourself up even more, you close your eyes and remember the image of Sylvia’s face. She looked so hopeless, so resigned to her fate, that all your self pity dissipates. Whatever miserable situation you’re in, you know she’s probably experiencing something ten times worse.

You think about bringing this run-in up with Scarlet and Hazel but you chicken out last minute. They’ve been pretty busy on the days leading up to your dinner doing god knows what. They’ve been polite enough to reply to you but you can tell from the short, quipped answers they supply that they have other things going on right now. You know that they’re not doing this on purpose so it doesn’t bother you too much, but you do miss the comic relief they provide in your hectic life. Guess you’ll tell them all about it when you see them on Saturday.

The last thought in your head before you shut your eyes is to call the Hope Hybrid Center as soon as you go on break tomorrow.

“Hi! Thank you for calling the Hope Hybrid Center! This is Jodie speaking, how can I help you?”

“Uh, hi yes!” Jeez why are your palms so clammy? It’s just a phone call, you do these everyday! “My name is Y/N and I was wondering if you can help me with a couple questions about hybrids, if that’s ok?”

“Of course!” Jodie sounds all peppy and excited. You wish you still had her energy when you do your customer service calls. You were like her for only a brief period all those years ago when you began at the clinic. Boy did that die down fast.

“Um,” You’re not really sure where to start. Do you just straight out say someone is hurting their hybrid? That might sound a little too accusatory. “What do I do if I think someone is abusing their hybrid? Like I have no proof but I still feel like it’s happening?” You’re not used to doing things behind other peoples’ backs, even for someone as awful as Karen, and it’s got your entire body erupting in cold sweat. You mentally reprimand yourself. I’m trying to help. This is for a good cause.

“That’s a good question.” Jodie’s voice is reassuring, like she can hear the nervousness of your tone through the call. “There are several things you can do actually! The first thing we recommend you do is observe their behavior as much as you can and try to record or take note of any signs of aggression displayed by the supposed abuser. This can be used in case any legal action is taken.”

“Uh huh.” You reach into your purse and grab your handy dandy little notebook, pull out the pen stuck in the spiral, and quickly flip to a random blank page to jot down everything she says.

“Now if you want to take direct action, that can be a little riskier but it is possible. The best option is to take one of our unique business cards and pass that along to the hybrid in need.”

“Unique business cards…?” She lost you there.

“Yes. You can find them at each of our shelters or we can mail them to you.” She answers fast, and you have a feeling she’s used to this question. “Each of our business cards contain an emergency phone number, a security code, and are coated with a unique scent that is virtually undetectable by humans. When the number is called, our first question is to ask for the security code, then confirm the matching scent of their business card. These cards work best with the majority of hybrids that contain a heightened sense of smell, such as the mammalian hybrids. We may need to adjust for certain bird or aquatic species that rely on other senses.”

Your writing arm is sore from taking all this down but you pause to answer Jodie. “She’s a fox hybrid, so that should be ok I think?”

You hear a large sigh of relief over the receiver. “Ok that makes things a lot easier.” Her tone switches to serious once again. “But remember this can only be done if the hybrid is willing to contact us in the first place. Beyond that, someone will have to catch them in the act of abuse and that can be very hard to do.”

You nod your head in agreement, forgetting that she can’t see you. “I understand. There’s a small chance this may just be nothing but I want to try and help at least.”

“That’s awesome! It takes a lot of guts to report these issues and you’d be surprised how many people let them slide under their noses.” She’s so encouraging that for a short, sweet moment, you envision the whole plan falling into place. You can see it now, a happy Sylvia free from her oppressive captors. Wow they really do a good job. Jodie deserves a raise.

“Thanks Jodie that means a lot!” You shake your sore arm, trying to relieve the pain. “I might need you to mail me a business card since the Hope Hybrid Center in my city isn’t open yet.”

“No problem! I’ll just need your full name, an email and phone number, and your address.”

You relay all your information over. By the time the call is finished, you have a whole 2 minutes left on your lunch break. You look down at your untouched PB&J sandwich and cry internally. It’s for a worthy cause you repeat again and again in your head like a mantra.

Friday. Finally. This week has been the longest you’ve experienced since midterm week of college. You received a package from Hope Hybrid Services this morning and it’s currently sitting on your bedside table. You won’t need to open that up till Sylvia’s next appointment.

You power through another hectic day at work, motivated by the prospect of seeing your two friends in person tomorrow. Both boys are now well aware of your work schedule and take extra care not to text you until you’re off.

5pm rolls around and your phone vibrates just as you enter your car and buckle your seat belt. You check and see that it’s from ‘Hazel’s Nuts’, your favorite groupchat. You gun it towards your apartment, wanting to reply to them in the comfort of your own home. You must have made it in record time and you’re surprised you didn’t get a speeding ticket. Listen, you aren’t the best driver out there but no one’s died on your watch so you count that as a win. When you arrive home you immediately jump onto the couch and unlock your phone.

Hazel: Hi Y/N. Sorry we’ve been so busy this week but we’re excited to see you tomorrow

You: that’s ok! I figured you were occupied

Hazel: Yep. Had to take care of some stuff but we’re all set now

Scarlet: Y/N!!!!!!! I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOOUUUU

Scarlet: (excited emojis)

You: Same!!!

Hazel: Oh yeah

Hazel: We’re meeting at La Cucina Classica tomorrow btw

You let out a small gasp of surprise. No fucking way?! La Cucina Classica is one of THE most expensive restaurants in your city. You’ve never stepped foot inside their doors because they’re usually booked months in advance. Karli’s lucky ass managed to eat there once before and she described the food as, and you quote, ‘orgasmic’. How on earth did they manage to nab a spot there?

You: No way! Really?

Scarlet: Yes way!!

You: how the hell did you manage to get a table???

Hazel: We pulled some strings

You: omg u mysterious boys

Scarlet: We promise to tell you everything tomorrow!! <3

You: ok! but don’t feel obligated or anything

You: i trust u guys

Hazel: Good

Hazel: So tomorrow. 7pm

Scarlet: Oh yeah! Also dress nice

You: you bet! It’s a fancy place so i can’t let them know i’m secretly poor

Hazel: Lol

Hazel: I have to make a call for work so bye for now Y/N

You: bye kitty

Scarlet: See you tomorrow! I can’t wait!!!

You: me too!! 

You: bye!

You set your phone down and whisper to yourself. “What does he mean by ‘work’? They have jobs??”

And they got a table at La Cucina Classica by ‘pulling some strings’, like it was no big deal to them?! Oh my god do you need answers!

You wake up promptly at 9am.

Why? Because it’s #SelfcareSaturday. And this has nothing to do with seeing the boys in person tonight at 7pm. Nothing at all.

You usually have a lot of shit to say about how crappy your little apartment is but today you’re feeling thankful because your dingy bathroom comes equipped with a little tub. You have a bath bomb that was a birthday gift from one of your college friends and you pray these things don’t expire (they do lol) because you’re about to crack this baby open for the first time.

You’ve still got 9 hours, 23 minutes, and 16 seconds till dinner tonight but who’s counting? Not me, you think as you slowly sink into the rainbow-colored tub water. The atmosphere is perfect. You’ve lit up two of your scented candles and have a lofi hip hop playlist on shuffle. You should really do this more often except, you know, water bills.

Right after bath time you decide to do one of your more elaborate skincare routines, hoping to remove the stress and fatigue from your face after a week of work. You facetime Karli so you’re not alone during the whole process.

“Hi Y/N!!” Karli’s face pops up onto the screen. It’s a little more blurry than usual and the sunlight is harsh behind her so she must be outdoors. “Why is your face all glittery?”

“Oh this?” You point to your cheeks. “Remember that fancy Japanese face mask I bought when I got my holiday bonus?”

“Oh yeah! But you said you’d only open it for a special occasion. Unless,” then she comes to a conclusion. “is it for the boys??”

“No!” You correct her too fast. “I mean yes, but also no.” There’s a blush creeping onto your cheeks. “Sometimes a girl just wants to treat herself…”

“Sweetie, your idea of treating yourself is ordering takeout and drinking wine on the weekends, but I’m not gonna pressure you.” Karli sure loves to tease.

“Shut up you don’t know me,” you pout. You’re furiously red at this point.

“Au contraire, I know you too well. You’re like that mole I have on my left ass cheek, I’ll never get rid of you.”

Classy.

“True.” She’s not wrong. You two have been through thick and thin and everything in between. It’ll take divine power to separate you now.

“Oh yeah good thing you called! I’ve got some news!” She’s raising her voice since the background noise of traffic behind her is a little deafening. 

You tilt your head, a question forming on your lips. Is it about the wedding?

“Remember that Bryce guy?”

You do now, since she brought him up. But it does bring back a few embarrassing memories. “Yeah?”

“Well he told me he has a football game coming up so he’s probably gonna text you soon to ask if you can go.” 

“I forgot I said yes to that,” you wince as you suddenly remember that night.

“I mean, you can always let him down gently,” Karli suggests.

“No, I shouldn’t. That would be mean. I did agree to go.” Just admit it. You don’t like disappointing people. 

“Ok girl, if you say so.” She doesn’t push you, probably cause it looks like she’s hurrying somewhere. “Ugh I promised to meet my coworkers for lunch but why did I wear heels downtown!”

“I don’t know girl, sounds like a ‘you’ problem.” You snicker at her.

“Hey don’t be fucking rude!” She quotes that famous Kim Kardashian meme perfectly.

“Stop! Don’t make me laugh too hard!! It’s gonna mess up my face mask!” You’re trying to keep your face still but it’s damn near impossible at this point.

The rest of the day you spend pampering yourself, the whole nine yards. You even booked an appointment with the nearby nail salon after one glance at your unkempt cuticles. God you’re a mess. All you had today was a salad you picked up after your nail appointment because you want your stomach to prepare itself for the gorging you’re about to do tonight.

As the evening approaches, you hunt in your closet once again for appropriate dining attire. The words ‘dress nice’ echo in your head. This time you do open your ho drawer, because you remember having some sort of shimmery dress that isn’t too bad and can probably pass for being presentable in such a fine dining environment. You reach into the furthest corner and finally feel the soft, silky fabric, pulling it out and hoping against all odds that it isn’t full of wrinkles. Lucky for you, the dress is still in good condition. It’s a spaghetti strap and flows all the way down past your ankles. You’ve never found the occasion to wear it, only buying it cause it was on sale and you thought it was so pretty at the time.

You put it on and glance in the mirror. Usually you have a lot to critique about your physical appearance but today you admit you don’t look so bad. The dress shows a little bit of tasteful cleavage and there’s a slit that rides up your right leg but it isn’t too revealing. Attach some chunky, strappy black heels and you’re good to go. Except makeup, you’ve gotta do that first.

As the clock ticks closer to 6:30, you finish up on your smokey eye and swipe on a little lip tint. You’re definitely taking an uber tonight because you don’t want to miss out on the restaurant's excellent drink selection. Also parking on a Saturday night? Absolute nightmare.

The place is downtown and a good 20 minutes away so once you get in the car you tell the driver to step on it, promising to tip him extra when you get off.

You can’t stop the constant drumming of your heart as the car nears the location. You feel like a kid who’s been told they’re going to Disneyland and you’re giddy with excitement. Maybe it’s better not to see them in person because you might faint on the spot.

As the car pulls up you take a deep breath. Calm down Y/N, you think to yourself, I’m just meeting two good friends for dinner.

The restaurant is located at the rooftop of one of the taller buildings downtown. You enter the elevator, smoothing your dress and your nerves at the same time.

When the doors slide open, you’re greeted by an immaculately dressed hostess. You glimpse at the restaurant behind her. Expensive is definitely the right word to describe this place. There’s dimly lit, warm lighting above each of the tables, and a live band is playing soft tunes in the corner. Waiters and waitresses are carrying loads of food on only one hand, serving each table with grace and poise.

“Name?” The hostess asks you, breaking you out of your observation.

“Um,” You’re unsure what to say. Did they put the table down under Scarlet or Hazel? That can’t be right since those are fake names. 

“Y/N?” You try with your name first to see if that’ll lead anywhere.

“Right this way Miss Y/L/N.” Holy shit, ok. Guess that worked.

You’re led past the many tables, ladened with various couples, and back into a private room. They even managed to book a private room?!?! You really feel out of place with your drugstore makeup and cheap dress.

The hostess graciously opens a door for you and-

“Y/N!!”

“Ooof!” You’re enveloped by the familiar scent of honey and cinnamon. “Hi Scar.” You try to compose yourself since he smells too good to be true. Hazel is right behind him, signature sleepy smile on his face. You back away from them, taking in their appearance

Oh. My. God.

Your jaw drops. Beautiful isn’t enough to describe what’s standing in front of you. Scarlet is in a perfectly fitted, baby blue suit that shows off his lean physique. One of his top buttons is undone, revealing his caramel colored skin and collarbones. You pry your eyes away from such sin and opt to look in Hazel’s direction but that does nothing to help you since he’s also dressed to the nines, wearing all black, silver jewelry sparkling on his neck and fingers, a stark contrast to his milky white skin. You look in between them instead, fearing you’ll drool if you stare at them any longer.

Hazel steps forward and also gives you a small hug. His scent is floral, with a spicy undertone, and you want nothing more than to drown in it.

“Hi Hazel,” God you must be blushing like crazy right now. You can’t help it since they look so delicious. Stop that! They’re your friends and they’re not interested!! You want to slap yourself for thinking such impure thoughts.

Well you say that but the way they’re taking in your outfit sends a shiver down your spine. Is it just you or did their eyes darken? The atmosphere quickly returns to normal and you start to wonder if that moment was all in your imagination.

“Look! We already have the champagne ready!” Scarlet’s tail is wagging a mile a minute as he returns to his seat. Hazel slides next to him right after, trying to swat away the offending appendage that’s taking up his spot.

“How ‘bout you control that tail of yours, hm puppy?” Hazel huffs, finally managing to sit down once he successfully shoves the tail back into Scarlet’s lap.

“Hey!” Scarlet looks downright offended. “I’m a fox, not a dog! We’re a much more sophisticated creature.” He crosses his arms and states pointedly, “just like you can’t control your purrs, we can’t control our wagging.”

Hazel only sighs. “Sometimes I wonder why I’m mated to you.”

“Because you love me. Now shut up or poor Y/N’s gonna feel like she’s being third-wheeled.”

Now this is the Scarlet and Hazel you’re used to. You sit across from them, nursing the sparkling flute of champagne that’s calling your name and trying not to snort out loud at their antics. It’s still extremely hard to maintain eye contact with either of the boys but you put in effort all the same.

“I hope you don’t mind, but we already ordered.” Hazel shifts in his seat, one hand ruffling the back of his hair.

“Actually that’s perfect!” You chuckle. “I have no idea what to get in places like these.”

“Ok, good.” His voice is now sounding a little bit shaky, which is very puzzling. Is he nervous?

You take a better look at them, temporarily ignoring their attractiveness (which is a very hard thing to do), and you notice their body language is off. Both their tails are now twitching anxiously and their ears are a little droopy. What’s going on?

“Hey guys.” You keep your voice gentle. “Is everything ok?”

“Yeah! There’s just, um…” Scarlet is twisting the napkin in his lap. “We have some very important things to ask you and-”

“Wait!” You interrupt him, putting one hand up. You need to get this across before the boys tell you anything. “Before you continue, I just want you both to know that under NO circumstances do you ever have to tell me anything you’re uncomfortable with. I understand that you have a lot of secrets to keep, being two hybrids who probably don’t have owners. I want to respect our friendship and your privacy, and if that means not knowing a lot of your secrets, then fine by me.” You’re almost out of breath from letting all this out but it’s worth it because you truly value your friendship with them. You always joke to yourself about wanting to know what they’re hiding but deep down you cherish being their friend more than anything.

Both boys glance at each other for a second, nerves having vanished, then they suddenly throw their heads back and erupt into giggles. Scarlet is full on shaking, slapping his knee while he roars with laughter. Even Hazel is cackling, gummy teeth on full display.

This throws you off and your eyebrows furrow together. What’s so funny? You were being sincere and trying to protect them from revealing secrets they don’t want to tell you.

By this time the waiter has come by with a tray of small appetizers so you grab an olive and chew on it in confusion, waiting for their laughter to die down.

“See? What did I tell you about her?” Hazel is wiping a stray tear off his face.

“You’re right, you’re right!” Scarlet nods back in agreement.

Their laughter has finally fizzled away and they both turn to face you once again.

“Um,” You’re completely lost for words so you take another sip of champagne for courage. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No not at all!” Scarlet is quick to reassure you. “In fact, we were nervous at first but you’re making this so much easier for us.”

“Easier?” If you had a penny for all the times these boys have confused you, you’d probably be a millionaire by now.

“Right.” Hazel leans into the table a little bit, a small smirk on his face. “You see, there’s something very important we want to ask you tonight.”

“But first,” Scarlet juts in, also leaning in next to Hazel, “just to clarify. You trust us right, Y/N?”

“Of course.” You say without hesitation. These boys literally have no reason to harm you. Except they’re a little too close to you now and you resist the urge to fan yourself because oooh boy do they have the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen. And their ears! Why are their ears so fluffy looking?! You bet their super soft to touch but you dare not reach out.

“Even though you don’t know our real names?” Hazel urges you on.

“Well, I always figured you’ll tell me when you’re comfortable...” Your voice is getting smaller now, and you feel yourself getting red from head to toe. They’re too close to you and you try not to let your obvious attraction show so you look down and twiddle with your silverware.

“Excellent.” Both boys snap back into their seats, startling you.

“Y/N.” Scarlet clears his throat and tries to make his voice sound serious but he can’t hold back his smile. “We would like to officially ask you to adopt us.”

The fork you’re playing with clatters onto the table.

Previous

#bts fic #bts hybrid au #hoseok fanfic #yoongi fanfic #bts smut #bts fluff #bts fanfction #hybrid hoseok #hybrid yoongi #bts hybrid fic

[buckstaposition]

I cling to your lips like gloss (2)

a Javier Peña x OFC story

also on AO3

author: @youhavereachedtheendofpie (in case u wanna come say hello on main but no pressure)

rating/warnings: swearing, mentions of character death, some mentions of sexual situations but nothing explicit, spoilers for season 2 (should probably have tagged ch1 for this too oops)

words: 6607, no regrets

summary: it’s not a date if it’s for work

Author’s note: There is so much research that went into this I would just like to say thank you internet for letting me look up stuff from the comfort of my own home at unholy hours even though I did get very distracted while looking up late 80s wedding dress fashion. Also bless the s2 dvd extra which was a director’s commentary on s2 ep10 and very informative.

—

Tag list: @keeper0fthestars @opheliaelysia @dindjarindiaries @fromthedeskoftheraven @shikin83 

(message me if you want to be added to the list. or just message me in general)

and also I urge you to look at the beautiful moodboard that @huliabitch made for me! I love it so much!

Masterlist

Prologue

Chapter 1 - The Informant

Chapter 2 - A Wedding and Four Funerals

"All the best from Mr DEA." Diana said as she threw herself down in the seat across from her best friend. Gabriela looked effortlessly glamourous as usual, even though she was just in a blouse and jeans. She just had that air about her, like one of the vintage movie stars, something Diana had never quite been able to match. She was well aware she was downright frumpy in comparison, not one to catch eyes just by walking past. For the most part, that suited her. Gabi tried to seem nonchalant about the greeting.

"Oh?" She sipped gingerly from her drink and put her menu away. "You finally met, then? He's back?"

Diana nodded and stowed away her purse and cardigan. "Yeah, this afternoon and yesterday, in the morning. He seems... nice enough? I don't know. Not a talker, is he? He seems a bit on edge, to be honest. Though I suppose that's to be expected." But despite everything, he still has kindness in his eyes.

Gabi just grinned at her for a long moment, waiting to pounce.

"Yeah, he can be a bit of a grump. ...Handsome though, no?"

Diana sighed, swatting at the other woman with her own menu. "Did it ever occur to you that the newly divorced woman might have had her fill of men for the time being?"

"It has occcurred to me that five years of unchanging, uninspired missionary for half an hour exactly, twice a week, with that wet blanket you married might have left you with the need to really be filled by a man for once."

"Gabriela!" she gasped, choking on thin air and mortification, even though their conversations would often get way more explicit than this. Just never with her being the subject. Gabriela just smiles like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, hailing a waiter to give him their order.

"Speaking of newly divorced: has the dipshit finally signed the papers then?" Diana groaned, throwing her glasses down onto the table to massage her temples.

"No, he's dragging his feet. Which is ridiculous, it's not like I want anything from him. It's not like we're fighting tooth and nail over every other thing, like that American movie, the one we watched on your mom's old VHS player, you know? With Meryl Streep? In any case, now he decides to fight? If you can call that fighting."

"Kramer vs Kramer." Gabi remarked sagely. "Yeah... At least you don't have children together. That could really have gone ugly. I still don't know what you ever saw in that man."

"Oh shut it. I used to be fond of Juan Mateo; I don't know when that changed." Diana huffed, quickly snatching up her glasses when the waiter sailed over with their drinks and appetizer.

"Well that's the problem, you never loved him! And your parents set too good an example; what could ever live up to that?" She took a generous drag from her drink, then dug into the food with hungry abandon. "At least you're finally rid of his snoring. And his mother."

"God, she really hated me. Couldn't bear it that her precious boy brought some lowly scum from the comunas into her pristine middle class home. Marrying me might have just been the only demonstration of free will that man has ever managed." Diana allowed herself to seethe a bit at the memory, taking it out on her food as she stabbed at it roughly. "And I will definitely not miss the snoring."

"Mr DEA barely snores." Gabriela remarked lightly. "Just ...very softly. It's quite cute."

"Since when do you let clients stay to actually sleep?" Diana inquired around a mouthful, brows scrunched. Gabriela hummed thoughtfully, swiping some sauce off her plate with a piece of bread.

"Ah, but he was so tired, poor thing. It wouldn't have been safe to send him back out, he would have crashed his car and died in a ditch somewhere, which would have been a real shame. I just let him nap for an hour or so that one time. Besides, I wasn't in any state to do much myself after he blew my back out." She had a way of being so nonchalant about these things that Diana supposed came from a sort of professional equanimity. Diana possessed no such poise and gawked openly, the wheels turning in her head as she recalled previous conversations and connected dots.

"Oh." She breathed as realization hit. "Oh! No! That was him? You're kidding me. How am supposed to look him in the eye now?" Gabi was already cackling, barely able to hold her laughter as Diana sputtered, recalling the very detailed recounting she'd received after the night in question. "You said you felt that for days after!"

"I did, but it was worth it." Gabi was now subtly holding her sides, having pushed her empty plate away to be collected. "You see, you're my dearest and oldest friend and I only want the best for you."

"I'm sure Mr DEA would be delighted to know of your crude attempts to pimp him out." Diana snarked, pushing her own plate to the side just in time to be whisked away by the waiter. "You're incorrigible. This is serious. Besides, I think he really liked you, actually."

"He liked the illusion of intimacy, like most of my clients. Lonely but with committment issues to the moon and back. It's not like I'm telling you to marry him. I'm just trying to get you properly laid for once." Gabriela scoffed. She could be so detached sometimes. In fact, one could call it downright cynical. But Diana had known her since they were both in pigtails and could detect the care behind even the most jaded words.

"Oh whatever. I request a change of topic. How's your book coming along? Any progress on that chapter that's been giving you so much trouble?" Diana asked sweetly, making the other woman glare at her over the plates with their main courses as they were being set down. Because yes, Gabriela does indeed write more than letters, and she's good, too. Also, two can play this game of being just slightly mean.

--- --- ---

Javier hated team meetings. And now that he was the boss here he couldn't even get out of them. Worse, he had to lead them. He looked over the assembled agents, glad that he had most of their names down by now. Gladder still that this was a DEA-only event and he wouldn't have to deal with any of Stechner's CIA asswads for now.

"Duffy, where are we on the shipments?" He turned to the other man expectantly. Duffy was one of the few agents here that weren't younger than him; he actually had some experience under his belt, unlike all these fucking greenhorns the higher-ups had sent him. He forced himself to pay attention to Agent Duffy's answer, making notes of important dates as he listened. Operation Cornerstone had, at this point, not yet come to full fruition, but if they continued to put in their due dilligence it was almost certain to turn up something useful. When they'd gone through all the points on his agenda, and after clearing up a few uncertainties, he dismissed the roomful of agents.

"Duffy, got another moment?" Javier stopped the other agent as he turned to leave the conference room.

"Sir?" Duffy sat back down and pulled his writing pad back out.

"Have you come up with any ideas for my informant in Calí?" Javier had mentioned this before, seeing as Duffy was one of the agents permanently stationed at the Calí field office. Now that Escobar was gone it would look suspicious if the head of the DEA in the country trekked up to Medellín every other week, and they needed a better way for Miss Rivas to hand over her collected intel. Duffy cleared his throat and caught the eye of one of his colleagues and waved him over.

"Lopez here has had a few ideas, sir. Tony, tell the boss your ideas for drop-offs."

The other agent was younger, handsome in that pretty way that made girls sigh dreamily, going by his own, admittedly remote, memory of high school and college. Lopez hadn't said much during the meeting, but had that eager glint in his eyes that said he wanted to prove himself. Javier had had that same look when he first came down here; it hadn't survived the first year.

"Let's hear it."

"Okay, so I was thinking the public library might be worth a shot." Agent Lopez pulled a notepad from his own case, squinting down at the scrawled chickenscratch. Javier nodded along, encouraging more than praise. He'd have to run these ideas by Miss Rivas anyway, and if she had concerns they were back at square one. But that was a river he intended to cross when the time came and not a second earlier.

--- --- ---

The satphone was also a good instinct because after their preliminary meetings in April, it gets irritatingly difficult to arrange another one for over a month.

"The what now?"

"The 4th International Poetry Festival. It's on from June 2nd to 8th." she explained patiently. "Orietta Lozano, Gloria Gervitz, Blanca Varela!"

"I assume those are poets."

"Obviously."

"You want me to go to a poetry festival with you?"

"No, I'm taking the week off and I'm going to the festival, and I am also free to meet you. I'm just suggesting that maybe your work hours don't all have to be spent in dreariness and drudgery." Something sizzled on the other end of the line where she was making herself dinner while talking to him, and it made Javier's stomach grumble. "A bit of culture is good for the soul, Agent Peña. You'll burn yourself out with how much you work. When was the last time you ever did anything for fun? Read a book? Hell, listened to music?"

Whenever you call me. She always had music on at home. It drifted through the receiver, a soothing background hum that was too soft to truly make out most times. Add to that the fact that he was still sitting in his office at almost half past seven in the evening, and he didn't have a proper counter-argument.

"Alright, fine. 2nd to 8th, I'll see what I can do."

--- --- ---

She was wearing another belted shirt dress, this one pale yellow and sleeveless, the full skirt reaching to just below the knees. It reminded Javier of the style his mother used to wear when he was little. Saturday, June 4th, had him meet up with Miss Rivas at the Teatro Metropolitano in central Medellín. Her dress contrasted against the blocky red building in a way that tugged familiar, but Javier was trying to train himself to not see blood in every instance of red.

"This is quite a way from Envigado." He announced his approach as soon as he was close enough to not have to shout. She jumped a bit, clearly startled, but her lips pulled into a polite smile when she recognized him.

"Agent Peña." She greeted. "No, cultural grandeur doesn't usually make it out to the comunas." She sat back down on the bench and pulled a flyer from her (rather big) purse, thumbing it pensively. Javier sat beside her, not quite at arms' length. Trying to appear wordlessly inviting, if only to mask how at a loss for words she made him feel. He seemed to be no longer used to normal, civil human interaction.

"Right, there is one reading here at the Metropol that starts in about half an hour that I think you might like. It has a few of the international poets; a few of them will be reading in English. Then there's another one later at the Teatro Carlos Vieco that I'm keen on. It's about half an hour on foot between locations, but there's the open air exhibits that only require a small detour." She pointed it all out on the program as she spoke, Javier silently nodding along in acknowledgement. "I've planned it so there's more than enough time for a lunch break. I hate having to rush through things that are meant to be enjoyed. I brought arepas, but there are usually enough street vendors out and about to get something else, if you prefer." She really did talk a lot. That was surprisingly fine by Javier, since it meant he didn't have to. "Though of course if you'd rather just get your intel and go I understand, but I must insist on at least this first reading, Agent Peña. But otherwise I wouldn't want to impose. I'm sure you have other things to do."

His lips twitched involuntarily and he held his hand out for the program flyer, silently reading it over. None of the names rung any kind of bell. Not that he was much of a poetry aficionado. "Sounds good to me."

She blinked. "Which part?"

He handed her back the flyer, which she took automatically, still eyeing him with uncertainty.

"All of it." She blinked again, looking mildly shocked, the flyer still dangling uselessly from her fingers. "Miss Rivas, I came all the way here and you went through all this trouble planning. It would be a waste to part ways after so short a time."

Truth be told it sounded ...nice. The thought of spending a day just exploring, letting work be work for even just a day (or at least part of it). Despite being an only child, he'd never liked being on his own even when he was young, cherishing every day spent with school friends or any of his numerous cousins. And it wasn't like he'd had to do far less pleasant things for information.

Her expression morphed from uncertain gaping into a wide, pleased smile that he couldn't help but mirror. Maybe she was quite a nice lady after all.

---

"...I have to ask though: What's a ...smit- ...smee-dereen?"

"Smithereens." Javier corrected gently as they exited the venue after the reading. "It means... it's all the small pieces that are left over when something is destroyed. Like with a bomb."

"Hmm," she hummed, pensive as they strolled along with the leisurely flow of the crowd, "I'll have to think a bit more about this." She fished around in her purse, producing bottled water and offering him one. He took it gratefully, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip. "How did you like it, Agent Peña? Already regretting agreeing to this?"

"No." Javier found himself replying perhaps a smidgeon too quickly. "No, it's very uh... enriching." And not what he'd expected at all. Though the festival was now in its fourth year running, he'd never had the chance or the wish, really, to attend it before. He'd barely taken note of its existence, too preoccupied with chasing down leads.

"Hm, you don't have to mollify me, Agent Peña. You'll still get your intel, don't worry." Her expression slipped, from an almost serene smile back into that underlying heaviness that he could identify only now that it had been lifted for a short while.

"Miss Rivas," he said earnestly, "I wouldn't lie to you. I'm just not that good with words. That's why I'm a government agent and not a poet."

That at least made her chuckle a bit. And it was true, too. He felt lighter, in a way, like his mind had been craving a break from the frustrating work of trying to find an in to take down the cartel. Even his shoulders felt less tense here. And it was a beautiful day, too. Warm but not too hot, sunny with a mild breeze. People were out and about around them, festival goers and other citizens alike, mingling freely with a carelessness that would have been unthinkable only a year prior.

"Juan Mateo never wanted to come with me to this." She gestured vaguely at the city and its people around them. "My husband. Ex-husband. Technically still husband because he won't sign the divorce papers." Her features turned tense as she explained, a slight frown appearing between her brows. "Not that it matters now, of course. But goodness, that man had no sense for these things. He thought top shelf coffee was the height of culture. He'd act like going out to a bar one evening every few weeks was a chore beyond compare. Such a martyr!" She huffed and Javier laughed softly, offering to take her bag for a while as she adjusted it on her shoulder for the third time now.

"No, that's alright. It's not heavy. This way." Her hand naturally slipped into the crook of his elbow to steer him down the side of the road and Javier faltered for a moment, cursing himself for wearing a short-sleeved shirt even though it was comfortably warm. He just didn't want to get separated in the bustle of activity, he reasoned. This was a perfectly tame and non-offensive gesture and it would be rude to flinch away, he reasoned. She initiated it, after all. No harm no foul. This was still a professional alliance.

"You think very loudly, Agent Peña." She remarked, lightly squeezing his elbow. "It better not be about work."

"Technically I am at work right now." He countered, covering her hand on his arm with his much larger one and giving it an awkward pat.

"Lucky you." She teased, lightly nudging his side with her elbow.

"Beats paperwork, that's for sure."

They ambled along, weaving through the crowds where they gathered in front of street performers and makeshift stages. Javier couldn't deny that it felt good to feel the sun on his skin, un-recycled air in his lungs; most of all being far away from Stechner and his legion of CIA goons was almost rejuvenating. They fell into a languid rhythm, walking leisurely and stopping every so often to linger a bit where music was being played or more poetry recited, in front of the stalls of local artisans or to look at the sculptures that had been put up as an open air exhibit throughout the city. Every so often, Miss Rivas would tell him some little anecdote, be it about any of the previous festivals or just the city itself. He barely felt the time pass.

By the time they'd made it across the river and to the park wherein the open-air theatre was situated, it was time for a late lunch and Javier felt his stomach start to protest, all that walking serving to work up an appetite.

"...and after school Gabi and I would trek across town to the library and hide by the shelves in the back, the ones with the old classics, and we'd read all the scandalous 19th-century novels about adulteresses and other fallen women. You know, Anna Karenina, Thérèse Raquin, Madame Bovary, Tess of the d'Urbervilles..." Miss Rivas set her bag down and produced a fairly big plastic container from within, setting it on the bench between them. "Perhaps not the most appropriate fare for a couple of fifteen-year-old girls, but it wasn't like we had a whole lot of supervision, you know? It definitely wasn't appropriate to read to a five-year-old, so I guess it's good that Maritza never really paid attention much- Stop my prattling any time, Agent Peña. I know I talk too much; Juan Mateo always used to say so."

Javier paused, an abundantly filled arepa inches from his mouth. "He what now?"

She flushed, looking down and picking at the wrapping paper she'd bundled the food up in. "It's fine, it's not a big deal, really."

"It's not fine." Javier insisted. Told her to shut up, told his own wife that she talked to much! What an ass. He started tearing into the arepa with a glower. They sat in silence for a while, chewing tensely in this little corner of the park at the foot of Cerro Nutibara, in a spot that was fairly hidden among the greenery while still affording a decent view of the city streets below. Javier didn't even know why it irked him so much. There were worse things out there than insensitive husbands. Ex-husbands at that. Still, he seethed quietly in his righteous wrath.

"Wanna see something funny?" She was already digging through her purse, so he didn't see much sense in replying. She pulled a photo from some deep compartment in her wallet, looking down at it thoughtfully for a moment before passing it to him. In his defence, Javier hadn't meant to laugh. It just came out, snorty and half-aborted.

"Hey, at least I managed to evade the poofy sleeves, okay? My mother was dead set on them. She wanted me to look like the English lady… uh, Princess Diana. I think she might have taken the name as a sign."

"That's a.. that's a lot of satin."  And tulle. Javier pressed out, still suppressing his laughter and barely succeeding. He could have pointed out that the mass of ruffles negated any absence of actual puff sleeves, but thought it better to refrain. And it wasn't like she hadn't looked beautiful as a bride, it was more that in that ruffled satin-and-tulle concoction she looked like an unwilling dress-up doll, despite the tasteful off-the-shoulder cut and flattering waistline. It was just... there were a lot of ruffles. There was a lot of dress, period. Paired with an expression that was better suited to a funeral, the effect was almost morbidly comedic.

"Wait till I show you the cake; we were basically identical." It was the dryness of her tone that set him off. There was no suppressing it now, Javier was bellowing, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. It didn't help that the dress fashion hadn't really strayed very far from the 'bigger and more style' in the years since. All things considered, this was a comparatively simple gown, lacking the mass of sparkly appliqués and abundance of bows and flowers that had been popular in the latter years of the previous decade. It just wasn't a style that suited her personality in any way, at all. Her slender figure was absolutely drowned in the sheer volume of the skirt alone. Hell, it completely overshadowed the already forgettable man standing by her side in the photo. Though 'by her side' was a generous descriptor. There was definitely enough space for the Holy Spirit and then some between the couple.

"My mother spent ages on that damn dress. Her hands looked like pincushions by the time she was done; that's why she wore gloves to the wedding."

"She's a seamstress, right? Your mother?" She'd mentioned it in an offhand comment during one of their previous phone calls.

"She was." Diana confirmed, tucking the picture away again. "Didn't think you'd remember that."

"Of course. I listen to everything you tell me."

Diana chuckled, flushing lightly. "It's not even relevant to the case!"

"I listen to everything you tell me." Javier insisted and started gathering up wrapping paper and such to throw away. A quick look at his watch told him they'd have to get moving soon if they wanted to make it to the theatre on time to get decent seats.

"Right." Diana collected her things to stuff them back into her bag. "So it's a no for ruffles, but what would you have me wear, Agent Peña? What do you think suits me?"

Javier couldn't have told even the most skilled interrogation expert what exactly compelled him to answer, and so readily at that, why he had an opinion at the ready in the first place, or at least that's what he preferred to tell himself.

"I think... something soft and flowy, not a whole lot of embellishments, if any. Clear lines and a light fabric, something you can dance in and be comfortable. Definitely no more satin."

She laughed now, as well, eyes twinkling with what he thought was approval. "You are full of surprises. Should I ever get married again, I'll most certainly engage your services as designer, Agent Peña."

"I'll keep a spot open for you. First consultation is free."

---

How her hand can feel so natural there in the crook of his elbow after hardly a day, he cannot tell. All he knows is that by the time the reading at the open air theatre is done the sun has started to dip in the sky and if this was what his work was like more often he'd perhaps be happier in his workaholic ways. Though they haven't broached the topic of work in hours now, instead ambling half-aimlessly northward towards Conquistadores where he's parked his rental car at the hotel he's staying at. Because it is a long way to Envigado and he insisted on driving her home. Because even though now that Escobar is gone Medellín is much safer, but he's never been one to easily trust a good thing.

It's only when they've crossed the big main street Avenida 33 that Miss Rivas gets quieter. She's obviously  tired following their prolonged outing, but he instantly misses the pleasant hum of her voice, her clever little observations- At the same time, it's a comfortable silence, not one weighed down by expectation. She'd even let down her hair from where it had been up in a ponytail for most of the day, most likely to keep the thick curtain of it away from her neck in the heat and sun.

They're just crossing a smaller square, the edge of it lined with shops, the hole-in-the-wall kind mostly, when she suddenly pulls away with a soft instruction to wait there for just a moment, and he's left to look after her flapping skirt with what is probably not the most dignified expression. Defeated, he sat down on the broad edge of a flowerbed nearby and watched her cross to a food vendor, order, and fish around for her wallet to pay, before turning around again with a plastic cup in each hand. Fresas con crema, he can make out upon her approach, and one corner of his mouth ticks up involuntarily.

"Hungry again?" He teased when she got within earshot, handing him one cup and setting the other down beside him along with her purse.

"There's always space for this in my stomach." She retorted primly. "If you don't want any, all the better."

"Thank you for the generous offer, but no. Thanks for this." He makes a show of cupping the treat protectively, fully knowing he'll have to set it down to unwrap the plastic spoon that came with it. It makes her laugh nonetheless, which imbues him with a strange, fluttery sense of accomplishment.

She's still standing, head thrown back and grinning wide, when her gaze catches on something at the far end of the plaza, and her expression morphs from glee to astonishment to rage so quickly it gives Javier whiplash.

"Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me!" Ripping off her glasses and thrusting them into his hands, she began stalking off.

Two things are fortuitous: one, she had to pass Javier to get to whatever she saw and two, his reflexes are still sharp enough for him to jump up and into her path, even having managed to safely deposit the cup of strawberries and cream.

"Whoa, what the hell is it?"

"I- ...she-" Her voice is strained, her whole body taut like a livewire as she attempts to round him and resume her warpath. On instinct, Javier took a few steps backwards, keeping himself between her and her target. It's only his hands on her shoulders that stall her enough for him to be able to whip his head around and follow her eyeline. That side of the square is empty save for an older lady shuffling along, huffing and puffing and blissfully unaware of the wrathful freight train about to rush her. To say Javier was puzzled would be an understatement.

"What, her? The old woman?"

"That's Hermilda Escobar!" She's shaking so much he has trouble keeping a grip on her. "Look at her! The nerve of that woman to show her face here-" She winds out from under his hands, rounding him with a quick sidestep, and he can only match her speed because his legs are longer.

"Hey!" Javier whisper-shouts to be met with flashing eyes, then repeats it more softly. "Hey. What exactly are you planning to do here, huh?"

"I'm gonna give that self-righteous bitch a piece of my mind is what I'm gonna do!" She retorted, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. It's cowing, the single-minded purpose rolling off of her. She's strumming with it, her seething damn near tangible. In her rage, she is ruthless. Javier had no doubt, in that moment, that once let go she might well maul the woman with more than words.

It's instinctive, the way his arm wraps around her. Like the few times he's had to restrain Steve and yet not like that at all. For one Javier doesn't have to go for a near chokehold, though energy-wise her wrath is at least as fierce. So, he wraps one long arm around her waist, hauling her much slighter body against his with a half-turn, her forearms colliding sharply with his chest.

"Easy." He rumbles, his other arm coming up to fold across her shoulders. "Easy. Calm down. Calm down!"

Palms smack against his pectorals and it stings. "Hey!" He tightens his hold around her trembling body, her angry, anguished squirming. Softens his voice. "Hey. Calm down, okay? What're you gonna do, beat up that old woman in the street? Come on, breathe."

The sound that comes out of her is something very closely related to a snarl, and he feels the bite of her nails even through his shirt, but holds fast, continuing to ramble empty phrases with the intent to soothe, or at least distract.

"If you tell me to calm down one more time I will get violent." She promised, hands pushing into his chest in an effort to break his hold. The old woman has almost passed by completely by now, seeming blissfully unaware of the savaging she's escaping. Javier held fast, as tight as he dared, the hand still pinching the pair of glasses between two fingers awkwardly patting at her shoulder while he sways them both, rocking from foot to foot.

By the time Diana has calmed down enough that he feels comfortable loosening his hold, the old woman is long gone from view. He feels her slump in his grip, reflexively tightening his arms again to hold her up.

"Hey," he gentles, lightly nudging the side of her head and thinking, distantly, that all but burying his nose into her soft hair is far too intimate a position for any of this. "Hey, it's alright, I've got you, okay? I've got you."

They're still swaying on the spot, a gentle see-saw motion, and then he felt the hands that had been clenching and unclenching on his chest lose all tension and drop down to the side. She's still shaking, her whole ribcage jumping with the hiccup of suppressed sobs. Somehow, he maneuvers them both around and back the few steps from where their snack and her purse still wait beside the flowerbed.

"Why'd you hand me these, anyway?" It's but a cheap distraction tactic, Javier handed her the glasses back as soon as she sat nevertheless.

"I'm not blind without them." Diana responded tersely, snatching the glasses and cleaning the lenses with the hem of her dress. When she doesn't deign to elaborate, he sighs and stretches from where he'd sat back on his haunches in front of her, resuming his earlier seat and finally unwrapping the spoon. It's a tense silence for a long moment, her aggravation like a pulse around them. Certainly it gives Javier a good bit to think on.

"You wanna tell me what that was all about?"

"Don't condescend to me. You may have been closer to the action, but I've lived here all my life." She ripped open her own packet with a vengeance, digging the spoon into her own portion with such force that the sliced strawberries bleed into the white cream. Javier sighed. Took a moment to order his words before they leave his tongue.

"I just need to know if this," he gestured between her and the edge of the square, "is going to be something that has to be taken into account. I need to know that you're not just in this for revenge. I need to know where you're at mentally. I need to be sure, both for your own safety and the integrity of this operation, that you're not just going to snap one day and try to claw Miguel Rodríguez' eyes out, okay?"

She chews angrily a moment, eyes flashing at him before she stares straight ahead again. The wrath is still rolling off of her in waves, perhaps dipping a bit in its intensity, but far from dulling just yet.

"You want to know my motivations, is that it? Well, let me lay it out for you, Agent Peña: of my entire class, a third never even made it to graduation, for one reason or another. I spent my youth plotting routes around gunfights in the street, with just enough success to still be alive, somehow. My mother was caught in the crossfire of a raid and was afraid to leave the house for years afterwards. My father was on that Avianca flight. My baby cousin Maritza is dead and her baby will grow up without her mother. And throughout it all, I took the coward's way out, moved cities, for university, for work, for marriage, for myself even, and everywhere I went they were, too. The narcos have spun their spider's web across the whole damn country and beyond and sooner or later everyone gets stuck in it. I got stuck in it despite my best efforts, and I'm tired of it. I'm tired of having to flee and turning up in dead ends. Somehow I have landed in this unique position, and I refuse to join them. Is that enough motivation for you, Agent Peña?"

She held his gaze, a challenge in fire, and he wondered how much longer that adrenaline surge would sustain her before she crashed. Wordlessly, he nodded his affirmation.

It's more tense silence after that, thick like stew or the humidity out in the jungle. She doesn't reach for him again as they resume the walk up to his hotel, doesn't casually link their arms like before, choosing instead to fidget with the handles of her bag. He hates it, misses the lightness the day had before. These narcos, they really do poison even the most mundane of things with their long, bloodied shadows. When they get to the hotel's underground garage, she's gone even more quiet, almost deflated. There are no more words exchanged, save for the clipped directions to her aunt's house. At one point, Javier was almost certain she'd dozed off.

---

"Do you ever think you should have been there? When they finally got him?" He'd just parked the car opposite of the house. It's almost completely dark outside by now.

"...Yes." Of course he did. He'd wanted, even needed to. The temporary suspension had not been near as effective a punishment as denying him that. The fruits of his labor, of years spent chasing after shadows and getting himself mired deeper and deeper, until he barely recognized himself when he looked in the mirror. He'd wanted it, sure, but perhaps he hadn't deserved it.

"Why did they send you home?" It's not that Javier is in a particularly obstinate mood, it's just that after the incident earlier, he's reluctant to bring up his own involvement with the cartels of Calí and Medellín, much less Los Pepes, so he gives a non-committal grunt in response. He should have known that wouldn't deter her. "When I first called, Agent Murphy said you had been recalled to the States. I only found out later that that was before they finally got Escobar. Why would a top agent on a case of this magnitude be pulled off and sent back before that?"

"You mean what did I do?" She nodded. There was no getting out of it now. He didn't want to lie to her either. Javier sighed, scratching his thumbnail across his brow. "You're going to look at me differently."

"Perhaps, yes." She took a deep breath, rummaging through her purse and producing a folded up paper. "These are the names of some American banks that I'm very certain help funnel and launder Calí's money. Sorry it's nothing more specific." She placed the paper in his hand, gently closing his fingers over it. "Whatever you tell me, we're in this together, right? We both want to bring them down. I trust you, alright?"

Javier gulped, his fingers tingling under her touch. He pockets the paper to buy time, if only to swallow through his suddenly-too-dry throat. And then he tells her. The dead ends and the crippling bureaucracy, Don Berna, the Castaño brothers and Judy Moncada and Pacho Herrera. His desperate grasping at straws to find a way, any way to throw a wrench in the escalating violence and catch Escobar, how that backfired so spectacurlarly. How he tried to get out, despite knowing that these people do not allow outs. How he'd been played by the fucking CIA because he'd been an idiot falsely believing that the two agencies were operating under even remotely the same objectives. How he'd gone down, almost taking his partner with him, definitely tanking his boss' career. He hasn't spoken to anybody about this in such depth, not even his father. By the end of it, he's exhausted.

"So you're the one Carlos Castaño wanted to feed to the crocodiles."

"What?" He'd expected judgement, even disgust. Certainly not this.

"I overheard Gilberto mentioning it on the phone. I think he must have just learned that you'd be the DEA's man in charge. 'Maybe I should have let you feed that damn DEA agent to the crocodiles after all, Carlos.'  The door wasn't all the way closed, that's how I heard it. I think that was the moment I realized I couldn't wind my way out of this. That either they were going down, or they were going to find out that I was already talking to Agent Murphy and have me... vanished."

"I won't let that happen." Javier promised instinctively, hands tightening on the steering wheel. "Crocodiles though? Really?" Not how he thought he'd end, that was for certain.

"Yeah, they're very uh... charming, huh?"

Javier grimaced. "If I never see any of them again, it'll be too soon."

"Knock on wood." Diana replied and unbuckled herself, pushing open the door.

"I'll walk you. It's dark."

"It's only across the street." She protested, and was that the ghost of a smile on her lips? Javier's hands stilled on his own seatbelt.

"You sure?"

"If my aunt catches me coming home with a man I'll never hear the end of it." Diana slipped out of the car, then bent to grab her purse. "Good night, Agent Peña. Until next time."

"Good night, Miss Rivas."

He waited until she was inside, the door securely locked behind her, before starting the drive back.

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

Chapter 3

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

Author’s note cont’d: if you wanna know what I had in mind, approximately, for the wedding gown see here

The International Poetry Festival of Medellín is a real thing, too. They have a youtube channel

#narcos (tv) #javier pena x ofc #series #I cling to your lips like gloss (series) #multipart #javier peña #narcos #narcos fanfic #javier peña fanfic #my writing #part 2 #like gloss tag

[alecmagnuslwb]

I Wear Your Winter Coat (The One You Love To Wear)

Read on AO3

The moon is high in the sky bright and shining, hell you can even see a few more stars than usual in between the city lights. The air’s not too cold just a nice chill that her big black jacket covered in patches and a few old clothes pins keeps away. There are clouds in the distance, but they’re hours away from causing any trouble. She has no magic shows lined up and she and John have agreed to at least a week of fun, they’ve earned it after everything that’s been on their plate lately. It’s the perfect, easy kind of night to go out and do something. So of course, Nick wants absolutely nothing to do with it.

“Oh come on mate, we took out three whole rabid vampire nests the past week. Not to mention the shows Zee’s been putting on. We agreed to a week off,” Constantine says as Nick declines so much as a dinner before he heads back to the brownstone.

“You both agreed to that,” he says turning to look at the two of them. “I have some research I want to do.” Zatanna sighs and steps away from John’s side to lay a gentle hand on Nick’s shoulder. Research seems to be his only past time these days, a past time that more and more so lately he doesn’t seem to want to share with them and it’s starting to worry her.

“You know you’re allowed to have fun, right?” she says with an encouraging smile. He brushes her hand off and shrugs.

“I have plenty of fun, see you two later,” he says without even entertaining the possibility of staying already turning around to leave. Zatanna watches him go, trying hard not to let Nick’s concerning behavior ruin her high spirits. John steps up next to her tossing his arm across her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her hair and immediately she starts to feel at ease again. For all his brashness sometimes John Constantine can be incredibly soothing. For her at least, most others probably wouldn’t agree with that statement.

“How about you help me pick out a new jacket? Seeing as you’re the reason I don’t have one anymore,” John says with a smirk watching as Nick saunters off around the corner leaving them to it.

Zatanna slips out from under John’s arm to stand in front of him mood completely restored with a bright, innocent smile on her lips.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says tugging at the jacket that was once his. She stuffs her hands into the pockets shimmying her shoulders playfully.

“Of course you don’t,” he says rolling his eyes fondly as he reaches out a hand to fix the collar of the jacket.

“Not a clue,” she says leaning in to place a quick light kiss on his cheek his stubble a little rough, but grounding beneath her lips. He scrunches up his face at the action, but she knows he’s secretly pleased. They may have been flirting from day one, but this thing between them is still new. It’s sweet even if they’re moving at high speed most of the time.

John loops his arm through hers entangling their fingers together inside her pocket before pulling her along down the street as he chuckles at her playful denial.

An hour and a half later they’re practically buried in a pile of coats and jackets in a small shop with Zatanna forcing every single one of them, no matter how ridiculous, onto John.

They start off simple enough with a classic black leather jacket with a few unnecessary buckles here and there that he looks great in, but he complains about the buckles purposely flicking himself in the face with one. A simple black bomber jacket is next.

“You look like Shaun of the Dead,” Zatanna says scrutinizing the look. The loose red tie, the white shirt and black pants, add in the fact that there’s a high chance any given day of him ending up covered in blood spatter and he’ll be the living embodiment of the character.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he says as he pulls the zipper all the way up to his neck.

“It is for me,” she says unzipping it immediately. No disrespect to Simon Pegg but she doesn’t need to hear movie quote quips while they’re out fighting for their lives on top of his usual snark.

John huffs but concedes moving on to the next jacket. A bit later she gets him in a long purple coat with the collar turned up.

“I look like Harry Potter,” he says scrunching up his nose.

Zatanna snorts, “I don’t think you know what Harry Potter looks like.”

Personally she thinks it looks good on him, even if it clashes with the tie, but she can tell from the displeased look on his face there’s no way he’s going to budge.

The yellow leather jacket he tries on next has extreme Freddie Mercury vibes, but this particular bisexual man isn’t pulling it off quite as well and the green fur one that comes after that, well Zatanna just wanted to laugh and point and call him Oscar the Grouch she didn’t actually think it would look good.

“If you get this one, it’ll definitely distract from your personality,” Zatanna jokes with a big smile looking at John in the mirror when they move on to the next possibility. He turns in the horrendously loud jacket and glares at her.

The coat lands at a bit below waist high, it’s technically black but there’s so many rhinestones, random neon numbers and a large patch of a gold and silver tiger on the back that any subtlety it could have flies right out the window instantly. It’s hilarious and tacky and it’s Zatanna’s favorite jacket she’s ever seen.

“I am a fucking delight,” he says a little loudly, catching the startled attention of the poor shop girl who’s been putting up with them. She’s seemingly not asked them to leave yet because she genuinely believes they intend to make a purchase. Which they will theoretically after Zatanna’s had her share of laughs that is.

Zatanna snorts which quickly turns into giggles as she continues facing on John’s glare in the mirror. He rips the jacket off tossing it into the chair Zatanna has been occupying for most of this fashion show and reaches into his pants pocket. He gets the cigarette barely halfway to his mouth before the shopgirl is rushing over and snatching it from his hand.

“No smoking in here, sir,” she says sternly handing the cigarette to Zatanna who it seems she has determined is the logical one between the two of them. Which is a great and accurate observation. “Also please do not throw the merchandise.”

She huffs and walks away from them grabbing the hideous jacket from the chair as she goes.

“Alright we gotta wrap this up before that girl kills us,” Zatanna says pocketing the cigarette and trying not to laugh some more.

“I just need something simple,” John says wandering over to the wall in the back that houses the shops normal everyday looking coats. “Something easy to clean and easy to replace, cause fuck knows I get dirty.” He says looking back and winking at Zatanna, she just rolls her eyes.

John shifts through a few more hangers before he makes a triumphant sound pulling a knee length tan jacket from the rack. It’s a trench coat of all things, he slips it on easily as he walks back over to the mirror.

“Whaddya think?” he asks flipping up the collar. Zatanna steps up behind him looking him over. He looks pretty good, definitely better than most men would look in one. She thinks he might be pulling it off in a completely non-creepy way which Zatanna has never seen a man do.

She walks around him a couple times surveying as he tugs at the wrists smoothing them out.

“I think,” she says as she stops behind him lifting up to rest her chin on his shoulder and meet his eyes in the mirror. “You are the first man in history to successfully not look like a creepy flasher in a trench coat.”

John meets her eyes in the mirror and gives her that flirtatious smirk she’s so used to.

“Thanks love,” he says twisting the price tag. “This one’s actually in my price range too.”

John turns around jostling her from her comfortable position on his shoulder and threads their fingers together walking over to the main counter. The shop girl looks beyond relieved when they check out happily taking John’s money and more or less stressing in her fake chipper goodbye that they never come back to this particular store.

Zatanna feels a little bad, she wishes stores had tip jars to at least pay the girl a bit extra for her troubles. They step outside finding that during their shopping not so spree the far away clouds from earlier have turned the pleasant weather into rain. John pushes the door open holding it for her. He steps out behind her ripping the tag from the coat and tossing it into a puddle.

They huddle together and move down a bit out of the eyeline of the shop girl while still staying dry under the awning.

“It’s a good thing I got the new coat,” he says reaching into Zatanna’s pocket and grabbing the cigarette she’d been handed by the shop girl. He holds out his hand to her. “Make a run for the pub?” he says gesturing in the general vicinity of where a pub they’ve taken to frequenting sits a few streets over.

“One second,” she says standing in front of him. She grips the lapels of his coat and closes her eyes.

“What’re you doing?” he asks the unlit cigarette muffling his words just a bit.

“Hush,” she says refocusing on the task at hand. She mumbles a few backwards words of protection and luck under her breath feeling the crackle of magic at her fingers as it seeps into the coat. She opens her eyes just as it glows for a second the magic settling in.

“It’s not bulletproofed or anything, but it should keep you a little safer, maybe even bring you a little more luck now,” she says with a smile looking up at him. John just shakes his head a little look of disbelief moving across his face. He pulls the cigarette from his lips and puts his hands on each side of her face gently.

“I’m already more bloody lucky than I deserve,” he says. He leans in kissing her soundly not giving her a chance to say anything in defense of himself. She gets lost in it, in him, like she does so often these days, not feeling a thing except for the warmth of his body against her and that constant taste of smoke that lingers on his lips that she’s grown to love. The moment is broken however when a large bang on the glass behind them tears them apart. The girl from the shop is on the other side her hand still pressed to the glass a frustrated look on her face.

John starts laughing putting the cigarette back between his lips and Zatanna follows suit not being able to hide her amusement. She grabs his hand and tugs him out into the rain. They rush down a bit before they find another awning to huddle under. It’s much smaller than the one in front of the shop the rain still whipping in and hitting them. John tugs his jacket off and lifts it over top of them as a makeshift umbrella fighting off the rain that’s sneaking in.

He tilts his head gesturing for Zatanna to move in closer and she does, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Want to see if we can wait it out?” she says speaking a little louder so he can hear her over the bouncing of rain on the awning above.

“Yeah, I’m perfectly fine right here,” he says putting his arm around her as best as he can while still holding up the jacket. He seems to remember the cigarette still between his teeth then looking down at it.

Zatanna snaps her fingers saying a quiet ‘erif’ under her breath. An orange flame comes to life at the tip of her index finger and she lifts it up lighting the cigarette for him, he smiles in thanks taking a deep inhale. She pulls it from his lips taking a rare drag of her own as well blowing it out into the rain.

“The jacket really does suit you,” she says looking up at the piece of clothing and putting the cigarette back between his lips. “I think you’ve found your signature look.”

“It’s no fishnet and corset, but I think I can make it work,” he says with a smirk forming around his cigarette looking her up and down hungrily.

Zatanna just huffs a bit snuggling in closer against him and under the trench coat watching the rain fall steady around them.

#my fic #john constantine #zatanna zatara #johnzee

[sugarandspice-games]

I guess this is becoming a trend... I’m popping in before the actual intro to clarify-- if the text is in italic, it is me (Sugar) talking and regular is Spice. Alright? Cool. And so--

So, one night I’m going through youtube and I come upon this one shitposty video about some random anime that I’ve never even heard of. After doing some research, I discover that it’s actually based on a dating sim that I’ve also never heard of. As a joke I was like “Hey Sugar wanna watch this as a joke, it might be funny” and so we did. And uhm. Well.

Today we’re gonna be reviewing Brothers Conflict, aka Sweet Home Alabama 2: Electric Anime Boogaloo aka the anime that ruined our lives. [Again, disclaimer: neither Sugar nor I condone incest and/or pedophilia, two themes which are uh, very rampant in this anime which is why I cannot recommend it in good faith. It’s not good, don’t get me wrong. I can’t really say that I liked it even if watching it and ragging on it was kind of enjoyable, and I did get attached to some of the characters because that’s the kind of idiot I am. Also, we’re not shirking our duties to write I swear please don’t kill me--] Anyway, an obligatory SPOILER WARNING though this probably isn’t going in the main tag bc I do not want the fans to publicly stone me. Why are we reviewing this? Bc we need to talk about it somewhere. Though I say review lightly bc this... is really more of a critique.

ALSO we only watched the anime, idk if things are different in the game. There is no full english translation for the games and most of the LP channels have been copyright striked, so please don’t come at us for not knowing anything. I also know that otome games and dating sims don’t tend to translate well to anime, and I will be addressing this later.

So, dear god, where do I begin.

Where do we begin indeed? How about the fact that her name is Ema and I had to google to remember the heroine’s name? Also, she is seventeen.

Our plot, or well... what you COULD call a plot, I guess, if you REALLY wanted to give this anime that much credit, focuses on the aforementioned seventeen year old Hinata Ema, who has an absent father who apparently FOUND THE TIME TO FALL IN LOVE AND GET MARRIED BUT NEVER HAS A SECOND TO SPARE FOR HIS ONLY CHILD, RINTARO I SWEAR TO GOD I AM TAKING CUSTODY OF YOUR CHILD. HAND HER OVER-- Anyway. He’s getting married to a woman who has 13 sons (jesus christ ma’am have you ever heard of a condom?) and he decides to move her in with them because... I guess he has less braincells than I have balls, which is to say, zero. Hi, I’m trans.

So, Ema moves in with them... along with her talking grey squirrel, Juli. Juli is... interesting and by interesting, I mean-- ABSOLUTELY PUZZLING. He, apparently, has seen the majority of Ema’s life from babyhood to teenagerhood and can talk but is only understood by Ema (who he calls Chii) and Louis, the eighth son in the Asahina family. It is never explained why, or how Chii came across him or how in an episode, a single episode, he becomes human because why the hell not, I guess??? (Also, he is pretty. YES. I said it. Fight me.) [Quick Spice intervention, this squirrel can talk to people, transform into a human, enter dreams, and live way longer than a squirrel should since the average lifespan of a squirrel is like 6 years in the wild. Juli is apparently a god as none of this is EVER explained.]

And when she meets the Asahina family, it’s pretty much immediately chaos because these heterosexual (I guess? They look like a bunch of twinks to me but there goes anime trying to convince me that straight people are real and not a lie made up by Trump) men have NEVER and I mean NEVER known a woman in their entire lives, since they seem to want to bang their stepsister immediately. And most of them are GROWN ASS ADULTS. Only three of them are actually minors (though Iori is 18 and only one year older so I guess??? It’s okay??? But still weird) and one of them is a 13 year old who looks and acts like he’s 8.

Oh, and did I mention that out of these boys, only the adult triplets and the abusive asshole 16 year old get any kind of characterization AND character development? I mean, Subaru gets an “arc” if you can call it that, but really, they don’t give him much... personality. You could replace him with a cardboard cutout and it’d be the same. I feel bad for him (but not really because dude you are 20 and she is your sister, what the fuck--)

But if there’s anything good about this anime, it is the characters themselves. Several of the boys have redeeming qualities and interesting personalities and quirks, as well as interesting relationships and dynamics with each other. Yes, some of them are lacking in the plotline department while others may have decent plotlines and lack personality, and then some of them are just given absolutely nothing (COUGH Masaomi COUGH Ukyo COUGHCOUGHCOUGH Iori, and by the way, what the fuck is that game plotline bc I read the wiki since I wanted to know more about him. We don’t have time to unpack the mento illness luv. But you’re telling me they had all this meat to work with and they threw it in the trash and gave him nothing? What the hell?) And if anything, I feel as if the characters themselves are crippled by the plotline. If given a different story, perhaps, they may have room to shine, because a lot of them are compelling if not lovable (though some may not be... lovable. COUGHFuuto, at least not for me.) If you want to see our review on the characters, we’ll put out another post.

Iori... Iori has a hell of a plot in the game, according to the Wiki but I can’t blame the writers for not exploring all of it because whoa. It is dark and not in a good way. But back to the subject at hand... I agree with Spice. I do/did like quite a lot of the characters... provided the entire romantic plot is taken away but we will go into more of why the plot is problematic below. All I can really add is: There is a baby in this dumpster and canon has been taken out back to be shot like a lame horse.

This brings me to a point in which I would like to pause the character discussion and bring up a glaring flaw with this anime in general (aside from the... plot. Look, I’m not a huge fan of weird stepsibling stuff but I think that if you want to do something like that, there are ways to do it and ways not to do it. This was the way not to do it, which I’m getting to). The biggest thing that made this anime so uncomfortable was the imbalance of power dynamics. Why is the protagonist 17 when most of the love interests are 18 and older, and I mean much, much older? And she’s not any 17 year old... she’s a lonely, neglected girl who is starved for the love of a family. This makes her easily manipulated by the brothers, who clearly desire her for less than wholesome reasons, and that makes it skeevy. I’m not sure why there’s such a fetishization of nonconsent in media, as if it’s fine for as many men to lust after female protagonists as the writer desires BUT the woman can’t want a single one of them in return. It’s creepy, and quite frankly, I am very much over it. I also get that the age thing is probably a product of the protagonist of a teenager oriented dating sim not translating well to an anime (because really, all otome game MCs are meant to be a neat little pair of shoes for the player to imagine themselves in), but why are we fetishizing a teenager being groomed by adults anyway? Especially adults who have this much power over her to begin with? The power dynamics bring this plot from “Oh, this might be kinda trashy but it could be entertaining” to “This is extremely creepy and rapey and kind of a dumpster fire.”

This is also true. If we were to take age into consideration, Fuuto, Yusuke, and Iori would be the three candidates left for Chii. This is taking out the youngest as well, who is... thirteen, I think? But anyway, (I know I am probably going to get some hate for this but go for it), I am into stories that explore the stepsibling thing and it can make a good narrative-- but before everyone gets uppity: There is a line between FICTION and REALITY and I do not condone real life incest but a story is a story and there are ways to frame it that make it clear that it is not a romantic thing, or acceptable. This anime does not do that in it’s dynamics because some of the brothers do start off in that very firm caregiving, family role and it is a sharp turn into romance that makes you go, “?” or in Fuuto case, a blending that does lean into fetishization.

All in all I think the plot maybe could have been okay? I’m not saying it isn’t problematic, because we all know it is, who are we kidding? But I don’t think it’s wrong per se to explore family dynamics with romance and to understand where the line should be drawn, and maybe exploring the definition of family itself. I have seen fanfictions with similar tropes ask those questions and explore the concept beautifully without romanticizing or fetishizing incest and unhealthy power dynamics. It could have been good, and I get that perhaps I’m barking up the wrong tree by expecting mature themes in an anime based on an otome game, but it also could have been a lot less... creepy (I have used that word so much that it looks wrong now) even if it wasn’t the greatest thing ever. But again, what was I expecting? I watched this whole thing as a joke and ended up attached to the characters like a fool... That tends to be a trend here, and this is why we are so salty all the time. So anyway, stay tuned for our review of the characters! We may not cover all of them since some of them don’t really get anything, but we’ll cover what we found interesting.

#spice talks #sugar speaks #anime and game reviews #sweet home alabama: the anime #not putting this in main tag

[laraslandlockedblues]

I have something I’ve been thinking about, especially now that I’m back over on Twitter (admittedly with a new account than I’d had before) and have been trying to reconcile how I utilize different platforms and why.

Long rambles so I’ll be sure to tag this long post and put under a read more.

TL;DR - I essentially traumatized myself for a political group doing research after the 2016 election, and while I thought I could handle it I found out I could not. I walked away from politics and at the same time discovered that fandom/fanfic writing was alive and well and I lost myself into writing for DA. I literally did actively avoid politics through tumblr and fandom because it was what I needed to heal. It’s why I’ve been such a shitty ally, and while I know that doesn’t excuse my inaction and silence, it hopefully explains why I hid behind privilege and often didn’t speak up. However, moving forward, that will be different.

I can no longer stay silent.

Almost four years ago, after crying my eyes out on election night, I became part of a group that was trying to decide what the fuck we could do moving forward. We all took up roles and duties we were suited for, and at the start mine was to delve into research. I was good at it, and at the time I assured them that I was able to read things that could make your skin crawl and walk away unscathed. It was a skill we needed.

And so, I set to work. I dove into the world of pro-Trumpers, the alt-right, the radicalization of young white men through the internet, and I worked on learning. I would spend my days reading reddit, 4chan, wherever I could find them gathering and sharing their ideas and plans. I took notes. I studied their lexicon and wrote it down. I figured out how they dog whistled and what terms they used around “normies” to try to bring them into the alt-right. I studied how they were trying to “red pill” people. I studied the way they actively were trying to push the Overton Window so that their ideas could be enacted further down the road.

For weeks this was all I did.

At first I was fueled by my rage and disbelief at the election, and I was hopeful we could figure it out soon and overcome. As time went on, though, I lost that hope. I couldn’t walk away from the research unscathed. I carried it around with me, crying over what I was reading, what I was discovering. The depths of hatred in people shook me to my core, as well as the realization that I had been blind to it and even a part of it at one point. 

I was raised by conservatives who admire Ayn Rand, after all. It took me living out on my own and speaking to people from all walks of life that I finally began to shed both religion and my formerly held political views. Two of my closest friends are the children of illegal immigrants. They were the first of their families to graduate from college. Going to their graduation party (as well as others for their families) changed my whole world. Being the only white, English speaker in a room was exactly the kind of experience a lot of people in our country need to have.

And now I was having to research people who actively hated some of the best people I’ve ever met, and also actively worked to never be in the sort of situations I had found had changed me so completely as a person.

I gave up. I sank into such a deep depression I took to drinking more, drinking so that I could sleep instead of staying up until 5am, until I had to go seek a counselor. I was in a red state, in military healthcare, and my counselor only saw the symptoms and side effects of my depression, not the cause. I didn’t feel safe telling her that I was thoroughly depressed because of what I saw happening to my country. Because of the election.

So instead I was treated as an alcoholic, as if that was not a symptom and was in fact the main cause (don’t @ me, I know it makes it worse. But it was not the cause.)

Then I discovered Mass Effect for the first time. And I replayed Dragon Age. I fell in love with Garrus and once more with Alistair and Fenris and Cullen. Late at night, a little tipsy and wishing Garrus had had more of a romance, I googled him and discovered Ao3. And I began devouring fic. And then I had an idea for my own (Goose Bumps).

The rest is well-documented history, here.

I sought refuge in fandom and fanfic. I sought refuge in telling stories. I admittedly used some problematic tropes when I first started out, so enthralled by just finally *writing* again that I didn’t pay attention to how I was consuming the media. I hadn’t written in so long, having hit writer’s block with a mystery I’d been working on (inspired by the “sundown” town I had to visit in-laws in in Illinois), and the act of just writing anything was so liberating for me I gave little thought to anything else.

Never mind the fact that my first real interaction with someone in fandom led to me being manipulated, gaslit, and abused. We’ll gloss over that part.

But these things all compiled into a me who was no longer vocal when I saw things that were more than just concerning and needed to be addressed. I ignored things that made me angry. I saw mutuals sharing important political messages and my heart would start racing and I would log out for the day. I couldn’t see the content without having an adverse reaction to it. I also didn’t want to make myself a target by saying anything - after all, I had written fics and been targeted by an abuser simply for that. What sort of reaction would I get if I helped to call out problematic art and artists?

I was frozen by fear.

I let myself be silent. I let myself take refuge in my privilege as a white cis woman. I let myself only write and block anyone who was racist/sexist/ableist/terfs/you name it. I blocked and moved on.

Because I could.

I had that luxury.

I am no longer frozen by my fear. I am now emboldened by it. I understand wanting to seek refuge in fandom. I do. If moving forward me being political here on this platform causes you distress and you have to unfollow me, trust me.

I get it.

But I can no longer allow my silence to enable those who seek to cause harm. I can no longer stay silent in the face of what is happening in the world, in my country, in my backyard - in my fandom.

This is not in response to anything more than my determination to be better than I was. For three years I’ve allowed myself to seek shelter, while not allowing others the same decency or courtesy by creating a safe space free of racism or other harmful ideologies. I’m not the only one who deserves to seek shelter in fandom. White women are not the only ones who deserve to seek shelter in fandom.

If those statements seem radical or uncomfortable to you, feel free to show yourself the door.

This is not an attempt to explain away my past (in)actions. I don’t need pats on the back. I don’t need reaffirmation. These thoughts have just been circling in my head now that I’ve finally reconnected with that group and have been politically active on Twitter and my personal Facebook again. This blog is still mostly fandom and shitposts. But I also want to be better in how I participate here, instead of keeping it just to my Twitter.

Racists, TERFs, homophobes, sexists, fascists (yes, you’re a fascist if you’re “anti-antifa” get fucked), nazis, etc - none of your like are welcome here. My art is not for you.

#long post #personal #needed to ramble this out of my system #tw racism #tw alt-right #i'm determined to be better #and i will no longer be silent #this is not an excuse #i just needed to conquer my own trauma and now even if it still causes me distress #i have to act #tw: alcholism #tw: alchohol mention #forgot those two

[sebseyesandbuckysthighs]

Three Soldiers and a Baby | Part Five

summary: Three handsome bachelors find their day to day operations disrupted when an unexpected new roommate (who comes complete with a diaper and a pacifier) shows up at their doorstep. How will they deal with this new and baffling responsibility without losing their minds or killing each other in the process?

pairings: Bucky x Reader (eventual) featuring Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson

warnings: none

a/n: It’s been a minute, but here’s part five! Sorry for the shorter chapter, but things are still moving along. Getting there slowly, but surely! I’ve actually been thinking about changing the posting schedule to twice a week, but work has been a little chaotic lately so I’m not sure what to do just yet. Also, sorry for not posting/responding to comment feedback this past week like I usually do. Like I said, chaos reigns! But I appreciate everyone who’s been keeping up with the story and leaving some nice little feedback for me. You’re all amazing and I appreciate you! Oh and Happy Canada D’eh! 💖

*warning to mobile users, the “keep reading” tab may not work so apologies in advance*

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 |

| previously |

After another minute passed, Steve’s impatience was really kicking in. He placed pillows on either side of Ellie to make sure she didn’t roll around and then turned to help Sam. “Just open the damn container.” He reached out to grab the bottle from him, but Sam pulled it away.

“I’m trying to for fucks sake!” Sam exclaimed, slamming the bottle down on the table in his frustration. A thick cloud erupted from the bottle covering both men in the soft white powder. Loud peals of laughter sounded behind them as both men slowly turned to face Ellie, who was clearly in hysterics over the mess they made.

Sam’s tired sigh turned into a low growl. “Barnes owes me so bad after all this and I plan to collect large.”

“You and me both, pal.” Steve agreed before they both broke out into a fit of coughs.

———————————————————————

Steve would be the first to admit that things may have started off a little rocky, but he felt like they were on a good track now. The fact that Ellie soiled her clean diaper almost as soon as they changed her was just another little speed bump. The little insect was just waiting for it. The two men were still covered in a light dusting of baby powder even though they did manage to shake themselves free of most of it. Unfortunately they would each have to wait for a shower until they figured out what to do with the child.

The pages from the letter they found were starting to crinkle with the amount of times Steve went back to read it. They'd have to have it laminated the way they were going. Ellie wasn't due for a feeding for a couple hours and now that she was clean, they really didn't know what to do with her. How were two grown men - whose main priority was to fight against the evils of the world - supposed to entertain a little baby? Of course, it was Steve that started strategizing because, well, that's what he does. 

“Okay, what we need to do is figure out how all of this is going to work and what we're supposed to expect. Sam, can you hold onto Ellie so I can go grab my laptop?” He lifted Ellie off the couch cushion and turned towards Sam who kept looking back and forth between the baby and Steve.

“How about you hold onto the kid and I go grab your stuff. You two already have a little thing going on. I'd hate to get in the middle of that.” He crossed his arms over his chest as though that would protect him from having to do anything.

“Sam, there's no way I'm doing this alone. Sooner or later you're going to have to hold her and right now is as good a time as any.” Steve held her out a little more expectantly. 

There was no doubt that the Captain was right and Sam knew that, but it really did nothing to calm his nerves. To share the responsibilities and duties of caring for a child that wasn't your own was not something Sam thought he would ever have to do. Barnes really would be in a world of trouble the moment he walked through the front door.

Reluctantly, Sam agreed but not before pumping himself up a little bit first. After a few sets of lunges, a couple jumping jacks, and some light jabs into thin air, Sam was as ready as he'd ever be. He craned his neck to the side, outstretched his arms, and let Steve place the small bundle in his hands. While Steve had been watching unimpressed by the spectacle his roommate was putting on, Ellie was just staring up at him in wonder. Maybe she was still too young to think he was being ridiculous, like Steve thought he was. 

After a few seconds passed with Sam holding out the baby like a sacrificial offering, he dared to open his eyes and get a good look at her. To his surprise, she wasn't crying and didn't even seem upset. She just kept staring up at him with her big blue eyes and her little fingers in her mouth, drooling all over her hand.

Once he loosened up a little bit he gently started rocking back and forth. “Alright this isn't so bad. Yeah. We can do this.”

Confident that he could leave the two on their own, Steve went off in search of his laptop so they could do some serious baby research. Whether they wanted to or not, this was happening and they needed as much information as possible. Over the next hour, they did as much research as they could. Visiting websites and blogs, even watching videos and ordering a couple books online. The mother didn't specify how long this little arrangement would last so they thought the more prepared they were, the better off they'd be. 

During that time, Sam and Steve would take turns entertaining Ellie while the other worked at the laptop and read everything out loud. Steve enjoyed talking to her. Just pointing out little things around the apartment and asking her questions she couldn't answer. When it was Sam's turn he would do much of the same except there was a little bit more movement. He would get up and waltz around the room with her in his arms, singing to her while she mumbled back. He even took her into Bucky's room and started telling her things about him. For the most part he only mentioned the negative traits.

“Sam, don't say those kind of things to her.”

“It's alright, man. It's all in the tone of voice you use.” Sam said sweetly. “As long as it sounds pleasant she doesn't care what I'm saying. Even if I'm telling her that her daddy's a tool, she's still all smiles. See, look at that.” He turned Ellie to face Steve and he was right. She was smiling up at Sam as though he wasn't just shit-talking her father.

When it finally came time to feed her Sam was the one to prepare the bottle since according to him, Steve was more likely to burn it. Sam even made sure to check that the milk wasn’t too hot by dabbing some on his wrist before handing the bottle to Steve who was still holding Ellie. She was starting to get fussy, but Steve was stuck admiring the way Sam seemed to be getting a grip on their new and strange situation.

“Don’t act so shocked, Steve.” Sam said, urging him to give the kid the bottle. “They do that kind of thing all the time in movies with little kids in them.”

Steve was about to ask what kind of kid friendly movies Sam had been talking about, but Ellie was starting to fuss in his arms. He shushed her gently and gave her the bottle, surprised to see how eager she was for the formula. Once her belly was full and she was properly burped, they settled her back into the bassinet to see if maybe she would be ready for a nap. It only took a few more moments of cute little babbling before she started to drift off to a peaceful slumber. One that they hoped would last until dinner time.

“Huh,” said Sam quizzically. “So that’s all she’s gonna do then? Eat, sleep, and shit?” That doesn’t seem so bad.” He turned to look at Steve who had already plopped down on the recliner and was emitting soft sounds from his partially opened lips. The super soldier was exhausted and they had only spent half a day with the kid. This was definitely going to be a lot harder than they thought.

Sam smiled down at his slumbering friend, taking pity on him for having done his fair share of the work with little Ellie. After a handful of seconds he was done taking pity on him, though, and moved to grab Steve by the shoulders and shake him awake.

“Wake your ass up. We’ve still got work to do if this kid is gonna be interrupting our typical daily operations.”

“Thanks, Sam.” Steve said with an unappreciative groan, wiping his hands down his tired face. “Okay, what’s first.”

Sam looked down at his friend then to the cute sleeping baby. He noticed the letter was still open on the coffee table and grabbed it.

“First,” he said. “We gotta find out who the baby mama is and what kind of trouble she’s in.”

———————————————————————

Feedback is always appreciated, leave it here!

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part four << part five >> part six

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Series Masterlist

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tags:

@avengerofyourheart | @aboveordinarymusicgal | @absolukeyrh | @ashlieadelia | @a-timeheist | @avengerskeeper | @buckys-other-punk | @captainwinterfalcon | @crazinessgraveyardsandcartoons | @curvybihufflepuff | @depressedpolishgirl | @desigirlworld | @divinediego | @dumblani | @fab-notfat | @feelmyroarrrr | @hiken-no-stark | @hv-chw3 | @igotkatiepowers | @izzys-addiction-for-fiction | @jesusbriskets | @kindnesswins | @kingcarterprince | @lbouvet | @mcuwillbethedeathofme | @meanerface | @mileysebschmidt | @miss2001babe | @mizzzpink | @rachelle-on-the-run | @rainbowkisses31 | @redqueen1221 | @rraise-a-glass-to-freedom | @rumoured-whispers | @sassylittlesamoan | @scarlettsoldier | @sexyvixen7 | @sgtbxckybxrnes | @sunmoonandbucky | @tanelle83 | @thefridgeismybestie | @this-is-mycrisis | @unlikelygalaxygiver | @verymuchclosetedfangirl | @xxloki81xx | @yallneedtrek | @yknott81 | @yourpotatotwiceremooved | @3dsaunt

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers #sam wilson #bucky barnes fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #three soldiers and a baby #my writing

[uninterestiing]

i liked your post on matteo taking his time to process things, so i'd love to know what your thoughts are on david being outed?

hhhhhhhhh well from what i’ve seen in the tag, i disagree with like 90% of youse and was gonna hold my thoughts till later… but since you asked… yeah i reckon its good writing actually.

(beware under the cut, this is long)

so disclaimers before people get big mad: i’ve actually been in the situation depicted. i’m a gay trans guy who came out in year 12 & to me, it’s extremely realistic. teachers in my last year of high school pulled me aside to say all kinds of nasty shit and the rumour of my transness spread around pretty fuckin quickly. it was a fucked time in my life but i didn’t have any issues watching the last clip, i enjoyed it and found it pretty relatable honestly, especially the teacher bit because its a really common thing trans kids go through to be harassed more by staff than students, but i’ve never actually seen it be depicted before… but i’ll also say, im really not easy to upset and almost impossible to offend when it comes to trans stuff. i work as an openly trans person in the media and my skin is very thick, 17 year old me who was experiencing it real-time would have probably been shaken up a bit.

that said, like i discussed in my other post about this, realism doesn’t automatically equal good storytelling! so what is good storytelling?

big subject obviously, but rn i’m gonna define it as a consistency of theme, tone, and character. (its also how well you tie all those things up at the end but i wont comment on that because… druck ain’t finished yet and we need to remember that!) plus, of course, it’s just… whether you like it? which is completely subjective, and something i can only comment on for myself!

so i think the main issue here is that people expect things from druck it never promised them, and from the very beginning was never going to be.

take the perspective issue for example, which effects tone & character immensely. i’ve seen numerous complaints that the show isn’t depicting the trans issues from an internal perspective. which is interesting, since from the very start, we’ve known that was the case. we knew it was matteo’s season, and we knew how very, very closely skam shows follow their protagonists. everything is from their perspective. so i knew it was never gonna be about trans issues from a trans perspective because david was not the main character, he’s the love interest. that was evident from day one ya’ll it’s how the show is structured. and that is Not Inherently A Bad Thing, it’s just not what some of you wanted.

however… druck has stretched the limits of perspective more than any other version. the texts, for instance, are not just the main’s, and do a lot for fleshing out the background characters. also (and this is thematically important) it showed the way outing / spreading of rumours actually happens irl. re-watching the last clip i noticed that they leave matteo’s POV for a second, and “switch” to david as he’s coming down the stairs, realising what’s happening. not so much as to break the consistency of the show’s structure, but enough to make the audience really understand the gravity of what’s happening. it’s done really fluidly and i thought it was a genius way to both keep it matteo’s story, but also, give that moment a much needed trans perspective, because i really don’t think all that ringing distortion sound was matteo’s panic. 

and really, i just don’t think a trans person needs to be the main character of the show for it to be good representation. i think they have done an exceptional job of not tokenizing david by making sure to establish his whole character & his relationship with matteo before his trans identity was confirmed on the show, in the exact same way they do with the other evens and their mental illnesses in every other version. and honestly, when it comes to trans men, there’s very little media stereotypes or negative tropes that they could have conformed to because there’s not enough representation yet for those to have actually formed. like, we know druck won’t kill david off, and i don’t really know any other tropes that exists for trans men in storytelling at the moment. a lot of the show is covering new ground subject wise, they don’t have a script to follow, so some minor blunders are to be expected.

over all, the fandom jumps the gun every damn time. the show decides to have conflict or deal with a social problem and everyone looses it, as if that’s not been the entire ethos of skam since the OG. skam / druck is a teen show that deals with identity issues. every season picks topics to educate on through the story, and they do it with a lot of care and research.that’s the whole deal, it’s why the show exists, fucking of course they aren’t going to brush over trans issues, it amazes me that people thought they would, and that there would be no conflict and it’d play out like fanfiction fluff. here’s another really good post about it.

so obviously, this season is about about being gay and being trans, but specifically about outing, and has stressed this theme all the way through, way more than any other version. so friday’s clip is what i’d call a natural culmination of theme and narrative. in terms of the queer experience, and the trans experience, i think it was a very good idea to take on coming out / outing as a central thematic and narrative through-line, because it’s one of the central things gay and trans people have in common. and then analyzing them both in comparison and contrast throughout the story, really works and makes for good fucking writing, pacing and - yup, you guessed it - consistency.

i find the choice to situate a trans man as the love interest, and therefore, an object of desire, incredibly subversive. and though yes, stories with trans protagonists are lacking, literally any form of story where trans people exist is lacking, and the creators of druck wanting to tell a story about what it means to love & be in a relationship with a trans person is just as important a story to tell as any other, and complaining about what “type” of trans story is more important to tell first, or which aspect of trans existence to highlight more, is ridiculous. at the end of the day, one story cannot cover everything, and the writers had to make choices as to where their focus would lie. and there’s literally nothing wrong with their specific choices in subject matter (being trans in the context of relationship & outing, mainly), other than personal preference.

so like i said in my previous post: wanting a comfort show where trans characters exist, but the trans experience is not plot-relevant, is fine & cool. i really want that too, but not here. getting angry or upset that druck did… exactly what skam shows do… is stupid. and then turning around and blaming your dislike, which is born out of judging a show by the wrong genre standards, on “bad writing”, is just plain wrong. this show is amazingly produced. just… c’mon guys. chill.

(also @ every weird cis person in the tag giving fuckin condolences & saying their askbox is open if someone needs to talk…… stop. literally nobody asked. its so weird. we didn’t put a call out for you to be upset on our behalf. its just a tv show. like its super important rep for us… but its also just a tv show that people can just not watch if its not your cup of tea.)

tl;dr the friday clip was fucking good and made sense because druck is well written, acted, researched and produced, is really not transphobic (in fact i’d say it’s pretty subversive), and it’s also not the creators fault when you’re disappointed by the direction taken in a show that was crystal clear what direction it was headed into!

#druck #ask #well fuck me this was long #please don't @ me i'm tired #mammamiau

[mere-mortifer-writing]

Dean Winchester/Reader ❧ Sweet Apology

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Dean Winchester/Reader; Dean Winchester/OFC Word count: 3250 | Chapter 2 of 3 Warnings: None for this chapter Tags: Fluff & Smut, a smidge of Angst; Misunderstandings; Porn with Feelings; Arguing; Reader has a crush on Dean Summary: The plan was to watch a movie in Dean’s room, but without Sam to help her feel less awkward, it’s no surprise that she ends up saying something stupid - and make Dean think she dislikes him, of all things, when she has a gigantic crush on the guy. They start yelling at each other, soon enough they’re kissing, and then - well, Dean’s bed gets put to good use. It kind of sucks, though, that as soon as they’re done Dean puts his clothes back on leaves her like nothing happened. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am. Well, not really. He’s just absolutely clueless. I swear, if these two don’t open their mouths and talk…

Beta’d by @mostly-shawn - Thank you so much for the help and the brainstorming session

Read on Ao3 | Chapter One | Chapter Three coming soon! 

It’s been two days, and she still can’t stop feeling…used.

She loathes using that term for something like this. Having incredible sex with the man that she loves shouldn’t, in any circumstance, make her feel so empty and cold – and yet, here she is. Rationally, she knew from the start that Dean isn’t in love with her; it’s not like she was living in a fairytale land where they would fall in bed together and never leave each other. It doesn’t sound much like the Dean she knows, anyway.

She angrily pours some sugar into her teacup, stirring the honey–brown liquid for far too long, trying to distract herself from her line of thought. She fails miserably. It’s just – the sex was not the problem, she wants to make that clear: it was good, it was with Dean, it probably ruined her for any other man. But he left. He left her immediately, when her emotions were still so raw and close to the surface she just wanted to curl under his weight to hide. She drinks down a scalding sip of tea, reminding herself not to be so stupid. Jody needed help, of course he had to go! So… where’s the problem, then? What has left her shaky and feeling ill at ease in her own skin? “He seemed happy”, she answers herself. Dean put his clothes back on, winked at her and walked out of the room, all with a smile on his face. He didn’t even kiss her goodbye, which she’s pretty sure is common courtesy even between strangers who hooked up. How? How could Dean have had such a drastically different experience that he was happy he could immediately hop off the bed and go, no problem?

Hell, she’s heard from other women how damn sweet he is in bed! A barista from a pub close to the bunker saw her looking with moon eyes at Dean and encouraged her to shoot her shot with him ‘cause, and she quotes, “I know he looks all mean and rough, but he’ll treat you like you’re the only woman he has ever wanted.” Another girl, a hunter she spent some time with researching for a case, confessed that the sex was awesome – but the way he couldn’t stop touching her everywhere, for the entire night, was even better.

So, yeah, had Dean been pissed off that he needed to leave immediately, she would have been fine. Some longing in his eyes, a “fucking werewolves” muttered under his breath… anything, really, and right now she wouldn’t feel like a toy he played with and then threw in the trash. And that thing he said, about how he “missed the feeling”, and how he “always forgets how good it is”: very nice words to hear in the heat of the moment, and she admits she found them very fluttering when he murmured them with his lips pressed on her skin.   But now, in the cold of the bunker’s kitchen, they are just points added to the ‘He Wanted To Get Laid And You Were Conveniently There’ list.

Well, there’s at least one silver lining.   She passes a hand to her neck and feels the familiar ache of pressing on a bruise – Dean left some marks. Hickeys, from under her jaw down to her breasts, an angry purple that is slowly fading away. Sometimes she runs to the bathroom just to see herself in the mirror – and some may call them ugly and trashy, some would even be pissed he left them there in the first place…but she honestly doesn’t give a fuck. They’re a physical reminder of what happened, a proof that Dean wanted her and was as carried away as she felt.   She loves them. They’re helping her feel a bit less lonely.

Which is, in her opinion, why what’s about to happen happens. Just to add insult to injury.

Hours after she’s done with her tea, she hears the main door to the bunker open and someone who’s by far too silent to be the Winchesters come down the stairs. Sure enough, it’s Castiel.   (And she’s still struggling with the whole “angels are real” concept, by the way, but that’s neither here nor there.)

“Castiel? Hi, Sam and Dean are not here”, she says when he arrives to the war room. His whole existence is so baffling to her, her brain kind of forgets that she’s usually awkward as fuck around men. She can almost have a normal conversation with the guy. “I know”, he replies, voice gruff but kind. “I’m here to retrieve some ingredients for a spell, Dean informed me you would be home. He said to, uh, ‘check how you’re doin’.” She smiles at how squinty Cas gets as he repeats Dean’s words. “I’m doing great, thank you”, she says. You know, like a liar, pops up in her brain in John Mulaney’s voice. “You okay?” “Yes, I’m well, thank you – but you have some bruises on your neck, do you want me to heal them?” Uh oh. “Mh? No, no, I mean–” Can’t he recognize they’re hickeys? “They’re nothing, you don’t need to waste, uh, energy or whatever.” "It’s only going to take a second, it’ll be painless”, Castiel explains, and before she can find some valid excuse he’s already put two fingers on her forehead. A pleasant tingling down her spine later, aches she didn’t even know she had are gone. She’s sure she doesn’t even have a chipped nail anymore, let alone hickeys on her neck – which shouldn’t be so damn sad to think about, and yet.

“There, all done”, Castiel says with a small smile tugging at his lips. And because she like him, and it was objectively a very nice thing of him to do, she smiles back warmly. “Thank you, Cas. I feel better.” She said, you know, like a li- yes, okay, thank you brain, we get it. “You’re welcome”, and he’s off to take the bone of a virgin nun or something from the basement. Man, spells are weird.  

And she misses Dean. What else is new?

❧ ☙

“Sammy, get on with it–”

Sam slaps him on the arm, still fumbling with the bunker’s key. “Dude, we slept like four hours, give me a break – ok, there you go, it’s open.” Dean wrestles his way through the door first, more to annoy his brother than anything. He’s actually feeling pretty good all things considered: the case went well and nobody got hurt, which is all he asks for. He’s just excited to be back home, is all.

Okay, yeah, and he’s excited to see her again.

Both Jody and Sam teased him for three days straight because his eyes kept glazing over every time her name came up in conversation. Dean had made the mistake of admitting to Sam how exactly the “movie marathon” was going when he picked him up to go to Jody – queue the continuous Dean–has–a–crush jokes. Thank fuck Claire wasn’t on the hunt with them, or he wouldn’t have survived her added teenage snark.

He realizes that Sam was just happy that he stopped moping after her, but still – leave the guy some dignity.

“Sam, it’s your turn to unpack this stuff” – he pats the bag he just put on  the war room table – “and clean the weapons.” His brother stifles a yawn just to shoot a heartfelt “...dude” in his direction. “It’s so your turn, Dean”. “Yes, but I’m still pissed you cockblocked me the other day.” “You said you guys were already done!” Dean scoffs. “What, you think I would have stopped at one round?” “Okay, no,” Sam says, noise scrunched up while he shrugs off his jacket. “TMI, Dean, come on.”

He’d deserved a too–graphic retelling, to be honest, but she’s also Sam’s friend and he doesn’t want to embarrass her just to get back to his brother. Also, it was, you know…kind of special for him, too, and he’s not one to kiss and tell.

Well. Not this time, at least.

Dean has had a soft spot for that girl for a while. She’s unlike any other woman he got to know during the years – the hunter life makes for a completely different personality, more brass and outgoing; and apart from various female hunters he’s met in his life, the other women have been mostly one night stands. It’s not like he knew them, not for real. Meanwhile, she’s more on the shy side (which by the way he finds adorable, especially when she’s doing research for a hunt and stays huddled up with her books for hours. Very sexy librarian of her); a calming presence, level–headed and serene when a lot of things in his life keep falling apart. She reminds him of Charlie, sometimes, especially when she shows what she’s truly passionate about and gets a bit nerdy. He thought the similarities would make for a painful reminder that Charlie is gone, but with time it just made him more fond of her.

He wishes, though, that he didn’t need Sam as a constant buffer between the two of them when they hang out. Dean has learned more about her by listening in to her conversation with his brother than any time it was only the two of them. He’ll admit that was starting to be bitter about it, and that’s why he snapped at her the other day – but thankfully things worked out great. Really great. Like, super great. He’s still riding that high.   Admittedly, the fact that they got interrupted before a much-deserved cuddle session (and he’ll shoot you if you go around telling people he’s a cuddler) sucked, but he left happy knowing that they could make up for lost time when he came back.

God, she’s smoking hot. The moment when he slid off her panties down the curve of her ass played in his mind in repeat often during the hunt, keeping him distracted during the boring witnesses’ interviews.   Jesus Christ, he swears the way she arched her back when she was finally naked was the hottest part…Oh, perfect, now he’s getting hard in his jeans just thinking about it–

“Dean.” Sam throws to his face one of his dirty flannel shirts taken from their bag. “You’re done for, man. Gross. Go say hi to her!”

Yeah, he’s gonna do just that. She’s probably in the library, that’s her favorite spot.

And while he appreciates Sam’s support, he flips him off anyway while he leaves the room.

❧ ☙  

Dean enters the library and immediately spots her on an overstuffed armchair, wearing headphones and scrolling on her phone. The bobbing of her head in time with the music explains why she hadn’t heard them arrive.

He takes a moment to observe her from afar, his eyes falling on the curves of her bare legs. It runs hotter in this area of the bunker, and she’s down to shorts and a tank top. Fuck, he’s missed her.

Dean decides to sneak up on her from behind, 'cause he’s a bit of an asshole and he wants to scare her, and when he’s close enough he sneaks an arm around her shoulders. She immediately jumps up with a yelp, and he takes one of her headphones out before planting a wet kiss on her neck. “Dean, holy shit”, she pants when she recognizes him, “what the hell?” He laughs while he goes to stand in front of the armchair. “We just got back. Sorry, it was the perfect opportunity to do that.” “Sam would never.” It’s obviously supposed to be a joke, but there’s an edge to her voice that makes him frown. “Yeah, well, Sam’s boring like that. Is – is everything okay?” She gives him a tight-lipped smile, so very different from the warm, inviting one she usually reserves for him.

Dean’s confused, to stay the least. He thought she let go of the awkwardness around him somewhere between kissing and telling him a detailed fantasy of how she wanted to fuck him in a diner’s bathroom. I mean, there’s no coming back from that…right?

Maybe she doesn’t know where we stand now, Dean thinks. It’s not like we had time to talk about it. And actions speak louder than words, in his opinion, so he ducks down to kiss her. She stays frozen for a second, the leather of the chair creaking under her grip. Dean cups her jaw to angle her face better, and she kind of…melts into him, warm lips moving on his. Dean’s heartbeat quickens the more she responds to him – he can feel it shaking his chest under the layers of cotton and flannel.   He sinks to his knees in front of her, tugging on her legs until she’s sitting on the edge of the chair, caging him between her knees. He breaks off the kiss to attach his lips to her neck – and, wait, didn’t he leave some marks there? He remembers getting, uh, a bit carried away, last time. She didn’t seem to mind, though… Maybe they already healed. Whatever, he has other things to focus on.

“Dean”, she says, and sinks her hands in hair. He sighs at the feeling of her fingertips on his scalp, and he loses focus of what he’s doing. “Dean, wait a second–” Her grip turns less kind, and he gets the hint. He sits back on his haunches but leaves his hands on her thighs. “Yeah?” “I– Dean, I can’t do this again.” He blinks, surprised at the sudden shift in mood. She looks so damn uncomfortable he has the urge to hug her, but he sets his hands on his lap instead. Did he do something wrong? He knew he would fuck things up eventually, but not so soon. “We don’t have to do anything now, sweetheart,” he reassures her. Maybe he came off too strong. “You’re not feeling okay?” "That’s not really the problem. Last time” – she avoids his gaze, looking down at her hands – “last time wasn’t good for me.”

It’s like she dumped freezing water on his head. He thought – he thought the sex had been awesome, and now she tells him she didn’t enjoy it? But she came, he thinks, immediately followed by maybe she faked it – which, ugh. Oh God. He’ll drive straight into the ocean. “I thought–” he starts, face burning up in mortification. He even told Sam they were amazing together, and that he couldn’t wait to do more – earning a “spare me the details” from his brother.  "Well, nevermind. I’ll leave you to your music”, he grumbles.

He’s not making this any better, is he? It’s just – what the fuck is he supposed to say? Something mature, probably. Not his forte.

She opens her mouth, but Dean stands up before she can say anything – he doesn’t want to hear her soften the blow with some excuse. “I’ll see you at dinner”, he quickly adds while he dusts off his pants. And then, bruised ego in tow, he leaves the room.

As he hurries down the hall, he can’t help thinking back to what he did differently, with her, that didn’t work like it always has on other women.

Of course, he knows that everyone is different, that there isn’t a universal how-to guide for pleasing a woman in bed…but still, he did pick up a thing or two during the years. Dean would like to think that he got way better than his first time stumbling in bed with a girl, back when he was seventeen, arrogant but unbearably self–conscious under all the bravado.

He did the things that he usually does, warming her up before the main event, going at her pace 'cause he knows that it takes girls longer to really get into it. And he likes drawing things out – the undressing, the exploring of each other’s body; letting the desire turn desperate and all-encompassing. So? What was the problem?

He thinks about it some more, losing himself in the memories from time to time, but then his steps falter as he remembers something. Which is that he did, in fact, skip one of his favorite steps: he didn’t eat her out. He forgot, alright? He was worked up because of all the arguing and the kissing and the weeks of tension between them before that…and she was so wet and responsive, he let it get to his head, and then…then…

Arrived to his room, Dean glares at the door like it stole his money and scratched his car. When he yanks it opens it creaks, offended at the rough treatment. As he face-plants into his bed, he wishes he could make a similar sound that to properly express what he’s feeling at the moment. He’s so fucking embarrassed that he gave this girl – that he’s genuinely interested in, that has always been kind to him, that he lives with and has to see every day – less attention than he would a one-night stand.

But the problem, he reasons, can’t possibly be only his lack of cunning linguistics – as his smartass, clever-world-play lover of a brother once called it – even though he’s sure it helped lessen the overall experience for her.

Well, there was also a moment where he accidentally hurt her – but it was just the position, he probably went too deep, and he knows damn well that the first time with someone you’re bound to fumble, to have some awkward moments. That’s why he was excited to be with her again: he doesn’t have the opportunity to try a second time very often. They could get better, fall in tune with each other until it all becomes natural and effortless and good.

Yes, the thrill of the first time, of something new, is amazing – but the times that he got to feel the familiarity seep in, to see that sense of performing instead of just enjoying disappear…? God, he wants that again. He hoped– Well, nevermind what he hoped. If she doesn’t want him anymore, good riddance. The only thing he prays for is that things won’t be oh so terribly tense between them. If nothing else, because Sam would get caught in the middle.

Then he remembers he left her with a “see you at dinner” –   which means he only has a few hours to decide if he wants to face this whole thing like a man, or just drive into the ocean like he was thinking about earlier.

He loves Baby too much to let her rot in the Atlantic, and that’s all that’s stopping him.

He groans in his pillow, defeated – give him a nest of vampires, and he’ll know how to deal with it. This whole mess? Not so much.

Taking a deep breath, he realizes the fabric still faintly smells of her – that flowery shampoo that she uses; the natural scent of her skin. Predictably, snapshots of how she looked tangled in his sheets flash behind his closed eyes, details soft and hazy in his memory. Despite everything, it makes him smile and snuggle deeper into the pillow.

“Oh my God. I have feelings for her”, Dean mumbles with his face still squished in the fabric. “Fuck my life.”

❧ ☙ 

Every comment is cherished and/or framed and put on a wall to read when I’m sad

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[kdramalands]

Binge Craze September

This month has been quite busy for me regarding my kdrama addiction, and I thought that a little update on what has been going in my life would be nice... I haven’t had a good sleep in a while, and my health-sleep tracking app is acting accordingly to prepare for my soon-to-take-place funeral.

I’m going to include a rating for the dramas regarding their bingeability according to my fucked up sleep schedule, which is very accurate and just rating system, excuse you.

REM? More like RAM one more episode in the 3 a.m. time slot.

Do not try at home.

Her Private Life (2019) [10/10]

🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁

The source of the paintings and the source of Kim Jae Wook’s handsomeness kept me from closing my eyes till 6 a.m. Dramas that light and effortless will be the death of me. It was a nice romantic drama, but it had some heavy emotional moments as well. My friend who also got around to finally watching this drama actually thought we’re going to enjoy it together for a while and discuss every detail. YOU FOOL. I’m a heartless binger, and once I finished this one, I didn’t even blink before I started watching another.

The Guest (2018) [8/10]

🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂

I had it on my “golden dramas” list for a long while. I noticed I have tendency to leave out the best dramas for later as safe bets. I have no idea what happened, maybe I was worn off after Her Private Life, but I only stayed up till 3 a.m. to watch it. And it kinda wasn’t the best idea to watch it at night... I mean, I guess it has a horror tag for a reason. However, this one was truly a mild one, so no harm done. Whatever was left of my sanity is still intact. And I got my stolen watch time back during the day. I couldn’t possibly be stopped with that little nap, especially when actors did such a great job and the plot was very unique.

Signal (2016) [9/10]

🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁

I really went all the way with treating myself this month with good dramas. I’m sure you can understand why it got rating this high. The secrets in this one are laid in a thick layer, so I was watching it without blinking, not to mention sleeping. I finally got my beauty sleep at 5 a.m. Yay health. The best part of Signal was definitely Lee Jae Han fighting workplace discrimination single-handedly. Woke men are sexy. Signal is also a brilliant commentary on the biggest cold cases in Korea. It is clear the research that went into making this drama was intense, and you can really learn a lot from it.

P.S. Where is the second season?????

Life on Mars (2018) [7/10]

🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂

We didn’t have a good start. Life on Mars isn’t that fast paced at the beginning, and my WiFi connection started acting up at that time. I’m pretty sure it was a serious case of an assassination of my internet provider on the binge status of these series. My mood went down, and honestly, the action at that point didn’t pick up the pace, so we had a hard time. The biggest mystery wasn’t actually a mystery, and the writers put all important cards on the table indicating where the plot is going. But all things worthy sometimes need that effort, and I’m glad I found my pace again. Life on Mars hit me hard, and like the big masochist I am, I really enjoyed the ending.

The Undateables/ Handsome Guy and Jung Eum (2018) [6/10]

🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁

I got hooked within the first 10 minutes of this drama. It was very smooth and easy to watch. I enjoyed these little gestures and facial expressions that appeared here and there, making it 10 times more silly and 10 times more bubbly. It was very addictive and very much appreciated after that row of brilliant, but heavy dramas I went through on my own accord. It’s not a big piece of art, but I searched for some sweet sweet couple moments and I got them, so the winner is probably still me. I took it easy with this one though. It wasn’t action packed or that gripping to pull an all-nighter, but definitely a good way to spend my time.

When The Devil Calls Your Name (2019) [7/10]

🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂

I added this title to the list, but it was actually binged in 75%. Math queen right here! Staying up all night doesn’t fry all of your cells, see? From the day episode 1 was uploaded I did a serious stake out on this title. Observing and calculating. I knew I wanted to binge it all, but it took sooooo long to end. I snapped right before episodes 13 & 14 came out. This drama is a gold mine of really good OST songs. The plot was literally flowing, and I didn’t even notice how I got from episode 1 to episode 12. I agree that it became a little draggy around episode 13, that’s why I lowered the rating a little bit. However, the ending totally got me, and I still can’t get it out of my head, it was so wholesome.

Bring It On, Ghost/ Hey Ghost, Let’s Fight (2016) [5/10]

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This drama could be described as a “classic beauty”. It definitely follows the basic form of a good drama, and it is addictive to the point of no return. It was fun, but took me a while to finish, I have no idea why. I noticed that even though I lost my pace after 5th episode, I picked it up back again when I got neat the end. Bring It On, Ghost is full of action scenes, and it has a very consistent and interesting plot, and supernatural elements in it, so I’m very surprised I didn’t finish it faster. Guess it wasn’t the right time and place.

Queen In Hyun’s Man/ Queen and I (2012) [10/10]

🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂

I went full old-school with this drama, didn’t I? It was overloaded with typical couple drama like amnesia, big inheritance, and politics. Do you smell that? It’s the good stuff. I was smitten with the chemistry of the main couple here, I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. Very thick chemistry, very nice to look at. We can fawn over how good Yoo In Na and Lee Dong Wook look together in Goblin, but Yoo In Na and Ji Hyun Woo were the OG couple back in the day. I just couldn’t wait till Kim Boong Do finally admits that he, in fact, is a player so I barely stopped to drink and eat. I have no idea how long did I stay up, but the morning sun greeted me through the window alongside In Na’s bright smile through my computer screen.

Laughter In Waikiki 2/ Welcome to Waikiki 2 (2018) [6/10]

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It is a tricky one, because one does not simply laugh at 4 a.m. in a house full of sleeping fussy people.The beginning and ending kept the class of the first Waikiki, but I guess the A-class humour got lost in the middle. Don’t get me wrong, it was really funny, but I found myself laugh out loud less than I did during the first one. However, the romantic aspect got me good. If I were to mention one big reason why you should watch it, it’s the Romance in Waikiki. The romantic element of the plot was written well, and it was very neat that they referenced past characters too. The episodic skit format is not perfect to binge, it’s more of a watch two episodes this week, and next two probably next week. At least for me.

Be Melodramatic/ Melo Suits Me (2019) [9/10]

🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂

There was no way for me to stop watching this after I hit a play button. Not only the drama is damn interesting, taking the form of an ultimate meta-drama, it has some nice winks to all kdrama manias like me. You can see them in small things, e.g. when Reply series were mentioned, PDs added the goat sound effect, or when Jin Joo said that Director Son kind of reminds her of Jung Bong from Reply 88, and bigger ones, when a lot of kdrama hits were put as a background music, e.g. ALMOST PAAAAARAAAAADISE from BOF, She is from My name is Kim Sam Soon or Appear from Secret Garden. It took me by surprise that even though the general atmosphere of Be Melo is kind of serious, they easily went over that fourth wall with light steps, and overall this drama keeps a nice balance between humour and sadness. And that song... every time I wash my hair... among the swaying flowers I can smell your shampoo’s scent... Play it at my funeral, I beg you.

It was a fun month of escapism and running away from my responsibilities. I had a little break at the beginning of this year, so I’m glad I caught up with some dramas I’ve been planning on watching for a while now and new ones I couldn’t wait to watch. I feel happy with the outcome. I hope you’re happy with my rating as well. See you in the next one.

#her private life #the guest #ocn the guest #signal #life on mars #ocn life on mars #the undateables #handsome guy and jung eum #when the devil calls your name #bring it on ghost #hey ghost let's fight #queen in hyun's man #queen and i #laughter in waikiki 2 #welcome to waikiki 2 #be melodramatic #melo suits me #korean drama #kdrama #drama #binge watching #binge craze september #kdrama recommendations #kdrama review