#we have had the exact same fucking debate for so many years leave us alone man

[zanderbobs]

Born to eat my beans on a baked potato in peace. Forced to watch otherwise very progressive Americans on the internet cry and throw up about how disgusting it looks

#we have had the exact same fucking debate for so many years leave us alone man #at least come for the foods that arent simple slapdash meals that never claimed to be high cuisine #*cough* shepherds pie please just cry about shepherds pie it does actually suck

[cblgblog]

Sorry I’m advance but one of my other favorite accounts just reblogged a Tony scene and people are talking about Civil War and how it made them Stan Tony, and how when they watch that movie they hate team cap👀 Then someone was all about how he was sleep deprived and how much pressure he was under and couldn’t understand how people didn’t like Tony because. Someone literally said that when someone says they don’t like Tony in Civil War they say “did you watch the same movie as me.” I’m baffled. Oddly enough someone else said, “he just wants to help everyone.” Sorry for the rant but I think people forget about what the accords are and what it would mean for people. Side note, I hope you’re having a great day/night 😀

No sorry needed!

I feel you man, I do. Honestly, I’ve unfollowed people based on similar posts when I was in especially Done moods, so.

Look on the one hand, the movie would’ve been a narrative failure if everyone was in favor of one side or the other, right? The whole point of the damn thing—besides giving the Mouse overlords more money—was to spark discussion, debate. Which, yeah, we’ll call that the tame description for what actually happened. But just, the thing was meant to split the fanbase so in that regard…winning? Thanks, I guess?

Film is also very obviously subjective, different strokes for different folks, so yeah, ten people can watch a movie and none of them are gonna see the exact same film. Let’s try to remember that this is, in theory anyway, a good thing. I just read a professional film review yesterday where I had the same reaction. What film were you watching, dude? Incidentally his reviewing partner said the same thing.

So honestly, no, they weren’t watching the same film as you or I or anyone else, because everyone brings their own biases and experiences and knowledge and interests into a thing, and that’s always going to flavor how it’s viewed. Again, let’s try to remember that this is good. In theory. Heavy on the theory.

That out of the way? Let’s get into Tony specifically so his uber stans can find this and scream at me on anon as though I just shot RDJ with a nuke.

Oh yeah, he was stressed. Oh, he was sleep deprived. Yeah, I’ve heard that. And that it’s Pepper’s fault, if she hadn’t left the poor baby, if she was there to rein him in, he’d be fine dammit, leave the baby alone!

Here’s the thing. You know who gets a pass on their shit behavior when they’re upset or tired? Actual babies. Actual babies and toddlers, and children, up to a point. Because they actually cannot always help themselves. Their bodies and brains are different, they have not learned better.

When you’re a 50-year-old man who’s supposedly the world’s bestest superhero, who wants, wants to be in charge of protecting the whole world? You need a little more self-control than that. The sleep deprived excuse works if you snap at someone before you’ve had your coffee, not for this. Roseanne Barr didn’t get to blame Ambien for her racism, Tony doesn’t get to handwave CW away because oops, I was tired.

Really? You’re a superhero, dude. Most of your teammates are tired too, that’s part of the gig. If you crash and burn this badly without your afternoon nap, fucking hang up the armor and go back to your billionaire playboy lifestyle.

Speaking of that, sure, right. It’s Pepper’s fault because she left him. Put aside the argument on whether that was justified or not (cough, it was and she should’ve stayed away even though they are adorable together). It’s not Pepper’s job to keep Tony sane. It’s not any partner’s job to do that for anyone. If she wants out, she has a right to that, without Tony going off the rails and blaming it on her. Seriously, he says part of the reason he backed the Accords was to “split the difference” with Pepper.

Dude. You were an asshole and you lost your girl. You destroyed all your suits, turned an emotional and mental corner in IM 3…and then relapsed 4 minutes later I guess because Whedon. Either way, Tony admits himself that he does not want to stop. So instead of doing that, or finding another partner who can accept that, you back an unjust international law that pits you against your team, your supposed friends? Go to therapy, have a pint of ice cream, cry into your pillow, send her more of those strawberries you sent her in IM 2 that she’s allergic to. You don’t go trying to change international law in ways that could ultimately affect millions of people because your girl left you.

Honestly—and thank God they didn’t do this but—the only way the Pepper excuse works in excusing his behavior in any way is if she’d died. Or been severely injured like Happy in IM 3. Still wouldn’t be okay, but, like Quill messing up their chance to stop Thanos because Gamora died, it would’ve been more understandable. Understandable, not excusable, and the way the MCU treats their women as manpain fodder, we’re probably legit lucky we didn’t get this.

As for him wanting to help everyone. He does in fact want that, I think. The problem is that his need to feel like he’s doing that is stronger than his rational mind, or his want to actually help in a constructive way.

Tony is too smart. He’s dumb as hell in many instances, mostly involving people and relationships, but he’s also too smart, and he’s been told for too long that he’s smart, and he’s bought into it. Ultron. Suit of armor around the world, protects the world, no more alien threats. It’s a simple concept on paper that fails in execution. So there are people with dangerous powers. Okay, we’ll make a set of laws to keep them from being dangerous, problem solved. But again, it isn’t.

Tony is not used to problems he cannot solve. He’s a genius, right? He can fix anything. He should be able to fix anything. That’s how he feels. But not everything is zeros and ones and circuits, things that can be fixed mechanically like his armors can. The people he wants to protect are not built that way. But he needs to feel like he’s doing something, because he’s terrified of what happens to the world if he doesn’t. So he creates these simple solutions to complex problems. The suit of armor, the Accords. They sound good in theory, but the problems they’re trying to solve are bigger than they are. And Tony, way back in IM 1, he sat back for years, clueless that his weapons were being used for bad things. He says it to Cap in CW. When he found out what his weapons were being used for, he went in and stopped it. Whether or not he should’ve known that already is a separate issue here. The point here is that when he found out, too late or not, he went in and did something about it.

Tony needs to do something about it. Again, go back to Cap in AoU, Tony’s nightmare sequence. Steve asks Tony why he didn’t save them. Tony’s ultimate nightmare is that he sits back and does nothing, and his inaction causes everyone to die. Which is where you get Ultron. Something he came up with because of what he saw in space in Avengers 1, then doubled down on in AoU. It’s where you get the Accords. Oops, he caused someone to die, he killed Charles Spencer. Must do something about that right now so it doesn’t happen again, and he won’t have to feel this guilt. He should be collaborating with others to come up with solutions (no Bruce in AoU doesn’t count because Bruce was dumb there), or at the very least, taking more time to think through the repercussions of the things he puts out there. But he doesn’t, because he’s got his savior complex that tells him that he alone can and must fix this, and because he’s too dumb to realize how not-smart he is in certain areas.

“We need to be put in check. Whatever form that takes, I’m game.”

Isn’t that what he says in CW, or something very close to it? Whatever form that takes. That’s the issue, right there, whatever form that takes. Realistically, yes, there should be laws regarding people with powers, the same way there are special laws pertaining to people who carry guns, or people who are licensed to fly planes. You have a thing/can do a thing that not everyone else does, so there are regulations pertaining to that thing. Laws change with the times, they always have. Some new technology comes up, eventually there will be laws that regulate it. As there should be, honestly. The issue with the Accords, Steve’s issue with the Accords, was not the basic idea. He says as much. He says that it could work, but there would have to be safeguards. Safeguards that are not in the Accords that Tony wants him to sign.

It's not a matter of oh, fuck the law, there should be no law governing these people, they’re above it. The problem is that the law as it’s presented here is unjust. There’s what, a month between Lagos and Ross coming by to tell them about the Accords? A month is not enough time to properly analyze such a big issue, Especially when you’re reacting out of fear, which is what happened with Lagos. People died because of an Enhanced person, an Avenger, in this case. Lawmakers don’t want that to happen again, they especially don’t want the political shit storm that comes with it. Damn, we look like we were asleep at the switch here, not having anything to throw at this problem earlier. Quick, let’s throw together this thing so no one can say we’re not addressing the problem.

Patriot Act of 2001, anyone? 9/11 happened, the public were rightfully terrified, the US said oh man, these are unprecedented circumstances, we’ve never had this before. Don’t worry though, we’re on this, we’re protecting you. The reality being that that bill simply gave the government too much power, most of it being used against people who were not actually threats, and it’s debatable, to say the very least, whether or not that law helped more than it hurt.

No law is perfect. No law ever will be. It’s not possible. We still have to strive for perfection though, have to aim there so that the laws we get are as close to fair as possible. Tony’s a big deal. If not for his “whatever form that takes” attitude, he might’ve been able to use his influence to pressure lawmakers into coming up with a fairer bill. Hey, I’m me, the public loves me, I will endorse this bill publicly and work on getting the rest of the team to sign, but you need to change this and this and this first, or no deal. Instead, he took the easy way out, the quickest, easiest way for him to feel like he’s atoned for his sins without actually doing anything. Whatever form that takes.

Tony’s not wrong because he backs the creation of a law that addresses these things. He’s wrong because he says himself that he does not care what that law does, specifically, so long as it exists. He’s wrong because he violates said law upteen times during the movie, while preaching to team Cap about what assholes they are for not backing it. He’s wrong because he cares more about feeling as though he’s tackled a problem than he does about taking the time to make sure that the thing he’s proposing is actually a good idea. He’s wrong because of what he does with Bucky, though that’s honestly a separate issue, for the purposes of this discussion.

Anyway, that was longer than I ever wanted it to be. Damn. Next time you see a comment about CW being the reason people stan Tony, just remember there are other people out there who stopped stanning Tony because of that movie. Everyone’s entitled to see a piece of media however they see it, and although the Tony stans are often the loudest, there are plenty of like-minded people out there who share your take on events. Block who you need to, unfollow who you need to, blacklist what you need to, and don’t let them get you down.

Hang in there, and have an awesome day :)

#pro steve rogers #pro team cap #anti tony stark #anti tony stans #anti iron man #anti team iron man

[buck-nialled]

All Shook Up - T. Holland (01)

NOTE: fuck it, let’s start a new series! a fifties au featuring poindexter!tom x cheerleader!reader, and also a meanie harrison. let me know if i should continue this!

TAGLIST: @niallberry @swiftmendeshoran​ @theshyspy @clarabsevero @golden-hoax @dudethisiswhyyoudonthavefriends @organicpurplepants @wowitsel @sunwardsss

CH I. LONELY BOY

“Hey Poindexter,” the brunette turns away from his locker, eyes scanning over all of the gelled haircuts and letterman jackets for the nasally voice no doubt summoning his attention. “Where’d ya get those glasses? Geeks “R” Us?” Tom only groans quietly to himself before facing his small cubicle once more. As he tried drowning out the shrill laughs coming from the clan of girls adorning poodle skirts congesting the tiled corridor, the boy takes a sharp inhale through the nose at the sight of a hand slamming the door to his locker closed.

“How goes it, Poindexter?” Tom had suffered enough regular visits from Harrison to know two things. One was to never make eye contact in fear of earning a shiner and a broken pair of specs to trash, and the second was how to ensure he would live another day. “I’m here for my fee.” The proximity between the two allowed Tom a deep whiff of the tobacco Harrison was chewing that morning. Pushing a gag back down his throat, Tom nodded and hastily swung his knapsack around to sift through it. A few moments of silence pass when Tom’s hand zips the first pocket to his bag back up and tries the next one.

“Don’t tell me you forgot,” Harrison tilts his head in a taunting manner, adding “you know what happens when you don’t have my fee.” Tom curls his toes as Harrison’s fist collides with the door of Tom’s locker a couple of times. The boy shivers at the memory of the last time his lanky body was crammed mercilessly and without regard into the small space. He missed three periods and was forced to wait for the janitor to pass by and hear him pleading for somebody--anybody--to set him free.

“I-I have it...I know I put it somewhere in here…” his trembling hands reached the zipper to the smallest pocket, which thankfully held enough for his lunch. Or, in this case, Harrison’s lunch.

“Ah, thanks, Poindexter.” Tom eyes the hand attached to the leather-clad arm snatch the bills from his scrawnier one. “Try to be quicker tomorrow, eh?” He can only nod in response, feeling the bell to first period vibrate his core. He trudges to first period with his head hung low, already suffering a sinking feeling in the pit of his gut that today would be no good. No day at school ever was for Tom. He accepted that from the very first day he stepped into class lacking a proper haircut and twenty-twenty vision, he would be the pet of every teacher and the butt of every joke, whether he liked it or not.

“I never liked fish stick Friday, anyway.” He says to himself before approaching his usual seat towards the front of the classroom. It was the desk every student feared; apparently, the wooden seat had a stigma for sticking out to the teacher, who would call on whoever sat in it. More recently, it had grown attractive to his peers’ eyes for being infected with “nerd germs”. Truthfully, Tom didn’t think himself all that smart compared to his classmates. The only difference he could academically between himself and those occupying the desks around him was that he put forth real effort into his assignments, especially those which excited him. Sometimes he becomes certain he missed a memo about only being excited over last night’s football game or the malt shop’s new jukebox.

On the way to his desk, Tom couldn’t focus his eyes anywhere except the bright red lipstick complementing Y/N Y/L/N’s lips. He supposes admiring her was an activity he and the rest of the school did enjoy together. And Tom could not blame anybody for their disposition towards the girl. Being head cheerleader with the niftiest poodle skirts in Midtown history were perks that drew eyes and fished for compliments, unlike Tom and his four-eyed, shaggy hair appearance. Tom’s quirked lips fell as he witnessed the sight of Y/N’s opening to chat with Harrison, who claimed the seat beside hers. He tried to pull himself away from the sight by finally sitting his rump down in the chair and reading the list of assignments written on the chalkboard by the teacher, but his ears refused to leave the conversation alone.

Amidst her melodious giggles, Tom heard Y/N and Harrison discussing the big football game tonight. “It’s gonna be bitchin’,” he caught Harrison’s deep voice poking through the rest of the pre-class chatter, “especially since I’ll have you cheering for me.”

“Alright class,” the instructor starts, before taking the roll of the class. Afterward, she sets her clipboard down and clasps her hands together. “Let’s get down to it. It’s time for the annual science fair!” A chorus of groans echoes throughout the concrete walls, but Tom straightens himself up in his seat. This assignment was his favorite of all his classes for many reasons. It was no surprise that each year he wins by a landslide in comparison to the other projects, but he also has the freedom to do it completely by himself.

“This year will be different from the last years, however, because you all will be partnering up with somebody else from this class.” Tom’s shoulders slump, his lips parting in surprise. He was preparing himself to be the last choice of everybody in the classroom. Though it was guaranteed that he would lead himself and his partner to a blue ribbon, nobody would risk social suicide to willingly choose him. “And, before you all flip your lid about who you want to partner with, I will be choosing them for you.” Another series of whines leaves many of the students, leaving the teacher to hush their protests and reach the jar of popsicle sticks located on her desk.

Her voice calling out a succession of names becomes muffled to Tom’s ears. He crosses his fingers beside his legs, scrunching his eyes closed and silently praying for somebody feasible to work with--or really, somebody who isn’t Harrison.

“Harrison Osterfield and…” Her fingers dip back into the jar, stirring the wooden sticks around in a manner Tom is sure is meant to torture him. “Jacob Batalon.” The brunette allows a relieved breath to seep past his lips and hears the two teammates celebrating behind him. Little did they know, Tom was having an internal celebration of his own.

“Y/N Y/LN…” All of the unsaid names in the class, Tom included, held their breath for the lucky person to be drawn. Tom eyes the instructor’s manicured fingers dive back down, swirling all of the possible partners around. Tom shuts his eyes and debates the possibility of his name being drawn. Would it be nice to work with a paper shaker who—more or less—presents herself as an airhead? Yes. But is it worth enduring a possible beating from Harrison if he stole his favorite cheerleader from him? Tom isn’t sure.

Luckily, he didn’t have to debate any further as the teacher drew the next stick, proclaiming, “Diana Ross.” Tom’s eyes darted around the classroom trying to spot Diana Ross in one of the desks, but only found other puzzled stares in return.

“Um,” a friend of Y/N’s who sat on the other side of her in the back of the classroom raised her hand, “I don’t think she’s in this class, Mrs. Weatherby.”

“Oh, my!” Mrs. W giggles to herself. “Her name must have gotten mixed up with your class by mistake. Thank you for correcting me, Barbara. Miss Y/L/N, your actual partner will be...Tom Holland.” Tom nearly gets whiplash from his neck shooting up at such a fast rate. The boy feels his cheeks go red as he turns around in his seat to send his partner a shy wave.

Barbara leans over to Y/N, her mouth agape. “Oh, my stars. You have to be partners with Poindexter?!”

Science class came to an end before Tom could even muster the courage to properly introduce himself to Y/N. In the classes that followed after, he was imagining every possible scenario of how working with the school’s queen would play out. She could leave him to do all of the work. Maybe she would actually give her input on parts of the project too. The worst scenario that came to mind featured Y/N hating anything Tom brought to the table and ultimately earning the two of them a big fat ‘F’ in Mrs. Weatherby’s grade book. By lunchtime, Tom felt sick to his stomach from the smell of lukewarm fish sticks and these various figments.

He approaches the table Y/N is sitting at with her fellow cheerleaders and leather jacket clan, clearing his throat before speaking. “Hey, Y/N.” The clatter of silverware on plastic trays halts as all eyes turn to scan Tom’s frame up and down in dislike. Y/N studies all of the expressions being delivered to her partner and scoffs.

“Hey, poindexter. What are you doin’ over here?” Her voice saying his—unofficial—name still cues him to gulp down his nerves.

“I came to talk to you about the project, so we can figure out what we’re gonna do.” Her friends kept glancing between the two, absorbing every detail of the conversation.

“Uh...okay…” Y/N concedes, standing from her seat at the lunch table. She wipes her hand down the front of her pink, poodle skirt before grabbing hold of her lunch sack and following Peter to an empty table nearby. He tries not to train his eyes on how her hands reach around toward her backside to smooth the skirt down again before taking a seat.

“So what do you want to do?”

She shrugs her shoulders. “What do you usually do?” Peter eyes her hands as they open the brown lunch bag, removing a sandwich and an apple.

“Well, last year I did a study on kinetic energy--”

“Cool, let’s just do that.” She decides, taking a bite from her sandwich.

“What? No. I just said I did that last year.” She rolls her eyes.

“Do you really think they’d notice if you did it again?” Considering he won with his presentation last year, Tom wouldn’t bet on sneaking past the teacher with the same exact concept.

“Yes.” The boy nods his head furiously. “Look, why don’t we just meet up later?” He suggests, only to receive a head shake.

“No can do. The cheerleading captain needs to be present for practice and the game tonight. Unless you want to show up and talk during the game.” She snorts, meeting Tom’s stoic expression.

“What’s so funny?”

“No offense, Poindexter--”

“Tom. My name’s Tom.” He interjects sharply.

“Right. Let’s be honest, you would never show up to a football game for enjoyment. You haven’t even been to one of ours.”

“You don’t know that!” The boy argues but slumps down in his seat as Y/N lifts an eyebrow.

“Really...do you even know our school’s mascot?”

“I...that’s irrelevant.” Tom disputes, face heating underneath her hypnotizing stare. “And for all you know, I could have come to a game to watch.”

“Nope. You haven’t.”

“Really, and how would you know?”

“Because I…” Y/N pauses spewing her argument. Tom sits patiently, eyeing the paper shaker whose mouth remained agape.

“Well?”

“B-because it’s my job as a head cheerleader to keep the crowd entertained at all times. That also includes knowing who’s in the crowd. And I’ve never seen you on our bleachers.”

“Well, you will tonight. Because I’ll be there. And we can figure out what to do then.” From what Y/N had heard of Tom around school, the boy didn’t have a dishonest bone in his body. But something about keeping his word to this level seemed fanatical. Even picturing the lanky boy in his plaid shirt and specs slouching on the cool metal seats proved to be difficult for Y/N.

She narrowed her eyes, skeptical. “Whatever you say, Tom.” His name sounded foreign falling from anybody’s tongue except his parents. But he won’t lie, it made his insides flutter from her acknowledgment. He gazed at Y/N grabbing her lunch sack and departing from the conversation until she reached her original seat near her friends. She smoothed out her skirt once again before plopping down in between Harrison and Barbara and flickered her eyes up to meet Tom’s.

Immediately, both looked away. Y/N, to her lunch sack which she was now ripping open to occupy her eyes, and Tom down to his fingers. Seconds pass before Y/N slyly peeks up again, and notices now that the boy is sitting alone and without a tray or bag of food.

She leans next to Barbara’s ear, murmuring. “H-hey, does Poindexter always go without eating?” Maybe that’s why his arms never properly fill out the sleeves of his sweaters, or why his belt always needs extra notches from a pocket knife, she thinks to herself.

“Who cares?” Barbara inquires between obnoxious chews of her pink bubblegum. “Maybe it’s a new nerd diet or something.” Y/N only hums but feels her eyes narrowing down in suspicion yet again. Harrison nudges her shoulder, breaking her from her thoughts.

“Will you wear my jacket tonight at the game? It’d only feel right to leave it in your hands.” The boy smirked, trailing his eyes up and down her figure.

“Absolutely.” A smile crawls onto her lips as she stares at his wandering eyes. She cannot fight the fact that hers want to do the same, and they flicker back over to where Tom was sitting, only to find the table clear.

She wonders if tonight will be the night she looks for his face in the crowd and finally finds it.

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagines #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #tom holland one shot #tom holland au #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n

[serenasoutherlyns]

Not a Summer Crush Part Six

a/n: OH MY GOD I CAN'T BELIEVE I FINISHED A CHAPTER! This will probably be the second or third to last one? Anyways, this is The Chapter where it happens so. Enjoy!! Any feedback is appreciated, it feels so good to have written something :).

Part Six

Serena quickly counted the number of drinks she’d had in her head. She felt more sober by far than you, Casey, or Alex seemed; everything was going according to plan. You were dancing with one of your friends from the studio, leaving Casey and Alex to dance together; Serena noticed-- looking towards you as much as one another. Serena had been dancing with one of your friends. At the next break the band took, Mariana followed the four of you back to your table, kissed Serena on the cheek and started pulling her away from you, with a look in her eyes that, you recognized from personal experience, meant she had every intention of taking her in the restroom. You winked at the two of them, expecting Serena to follow her lead, but she didn’t instead electing to give her hip a squeeze before whispering something in her ear and sitting down beside Casey while you slid in next to Alex again.

“You two are really getting the hang of this,” you said, your head resting in your hands, your elbows propped up on the table. You didn’t like to get too drunk when you went dancing, mainly because the diminished coordination bothered you, but you’d made an exception tonight, and you were feeling pleasantly buzzed, enough to push your flirting out of the territory of subtle. You leaned your head against Alex’s shoulder, smiling as she said something you weren’t quite listening to. You tended to “check out” when you were drunk, turning into a bit of a passive observer, letting the big picture of the space wash over you rather than noticing every little piece of conversation.

Serena held out her phone to snap a picture of the group, and as she did so, you tilted your head up the slightest bit to bring your lips to rest incredibly lightly on Alex’s cheek. Testing the waters again, you lifted your head up further and turned across the table to see Casey, not jealous but happy, the smile on her lips full of desire, her pupils wide. Alex was blushing, her gaze averted from your own. You no longer had any more doubt: this was going to happen. It was all a question of when

“Serena,” you said, “what do you think of Mariana?” It was a plot to get her to leave the three of you alone, and you were sure you weren’t being delicate enough for her not to notice. You didn’t much care.

“She’s beautiful, talented,” Serena said with a suggestive wink. “I’m sure you know that, though,” she said.

You choked on your drink, coughing. “You act like I’ve slept with everyone in here,” you said, hoping Serena would take you up on the door you were opening.

Nobody was better than her at picking up the hidden question underneath someone’s statements. “Almost,” she said, low and playful. Casey swatted Serena’s shoulder (to which Serena reacted with an indignant “ow!”) while Alex took another long sip of her drink.

Mariana walked back by your table, grabbing Serena’s hand before she could object too strongly to your reactions, and Serena followed, leaving the three of you alone.

“Mariana is--”

“A friend of mine,” you cut Casey off before she could insinuate that you were in any kind of relationship that didn’t boil down to head over heels for the two of you. “I think she’s about to eat Serena alive, though,” you continued. That got the three of you laughing, Casey letting her head fall back, her soft red waves grazing over the tops of her shoulders. Alex pressed herself closer to you. If you turned towards her right then, just the slightest bit, you’d be touching in all kinds of important places. You felt your skin heat at the thought. She was close enough that you could feel her chest rise and fall from her side, that the scent of her shampoo and tequila filled your senses and suddenly it was all too much: the sounds, music, chatter, clinking glasses, the smells, the warmth and humidity of the space not to mention the same look on Casey’s face and your mildly drunk state. Your head was spinning. You coughed, overwhelmed. “Excuse me,” you said as you rose and walked to the bathroom, hoping you hadn’t sounded upset.

At the table, Alex looked at Casey with panic. Casey’s eyes were similarly wide and scared. “Alex, what did you do?”

---

When you made it to the bathroom, you realized what you’d done. You blew it, you panicked in a moment you could’ve taken advantage of and now all of your chances were out the window. Fuck. You leaned over the sink, breathing heavily, swallowing what could become tears. These feelings were getting excessive. You’d spent all night close to one or both of them, elegantly spinning Casey’s athletic form across the floor, gently guiding Alex’s uncoordinated self through the movements, watching the two of them fit perfectly in each other’s arms; and it had felt perfect: holding, watching, spinning, then Alex had come in close and you’d freaked out. You started coughing again from breathing hard. You heard a noise behind you, the unlocking of one of the stalls. Great, you thought, someone else was there to witness your hysterics.

That someone else was Serena Southerlyn, who carefully walked up beside you in what was

not exactly a comforting gesture. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked huffing, having spent her patience by this point. Mariana walked out of the stall and out of the bathroom doors, rolling her eyes at your plight (which was fair enough, considering that you’d failed to text her back after you slept together not once but three times before).

“Thanks,” you said, pushing yourself back from the sink to face her. You debated whether to tell her the truth, but you’d realized, at this point, how many of your rules regarding romance Casey and Alex had broken for you. You leaned back against the wall, crossing your arms in front of you. “We were talking,” you said, the nervousness still in your voice, “And Alex was so close and Casey was too, and I just, I freaked, Serena and I think I ruined it if there was an it to ruin and I don’t know what to do!” you said, all in one breath.

Serena took a breath, rubbing her eyes, then turned and begun to leave the room.

“Where are you going?” you said, “I just bore my soul to you, Southerlyn!”

“I’m going to fix this,” she said. “And you owe me one for driving Mariana away. Seriously, what did you do to her?” she asked. You started to answer, but she cut you off, “Don’t tell me.” She waved her hand at you and was gone, leaving you stunned.

---

Serena took a second to slow down the pace she was walking at so that when she arrived at the table, she wouldn’t have to slide to a halt. It wasn’t a pretty sight: Alex and Casey hadn’t moved at all, and they both looked very confused and anxious; Casey with her bottom lip between her teeth, Alex looking into her mostly empty glass like the ice cubes could tell her fortune. It was pathetic, in Serena’s opinion.

“What did you do, Alex?” Serena asked as she sat down.

Alex let out an unamused chuckle. “Why does everyone assume it’s my fault?” she replied, but gave up being defensive. “I don’t know. I thought things were going so well, but I must’ve misread her because…” she trailed off. Casey had a forlorn look in her eyes, one that Serena had seen before, years ago at a party when she and Alex had been trying to stay just friends. That night, Serena had asked her if she really was ready to let her go. Casey had looked at her with those same eyes and said, “no, I’m not,” taken a sip of her beer, “but I’m going to have to be, won’t I?” And that night, Serena pulled Alex aside and told her, and she remembered the exact words, “You can’t do this to her, Lex.” Alex had turned her eyes towards the ground, but hadn’t replied, and Serena had finished, “You can’t do this to yourself.” Those same looks and those same feelings, and Serena wasn’t going to let the two of them screw up this time either. The things she did for friendship!

“Well,” Serena said, “She’s in the bathroom hyperventilating because she thinks she ruined her chances with you. So I would advise that the two of you go fix that. Apologize or explain or whatever.” She didn’t give them time to argue. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go try to finish what I started,” she rose from the table. “You’re all grownups, talk to each other.”

They looked at one another for a moment, communicating without words, reading one another in the same way they’d learned to over the years of being in love. “So, I guess I’ll go talk to her?” Casey said, eliciting a sigh of relief from her wife. She always was better with uncertainty.

“That would be amazing of you, baby,” Alex said, squeezing Casey’s hand and leaning over the table to kiss her, before they both stood from the table at the same time, and walked away in opposite directions.

---

You hardly dared to move from where you were parked against the wall as you waited for something to happen. You weren’t exactly sure what Serena meant by “fixing” this, but it turned out that the outcome you’d most hoped for was the one you got. There was a hesitant initial push on the door, then one more insistent. Casey’d left you breathless multiple times tonight, her dress, her hair, the way her lipstick clung to the straw in her cocktail, but this, you thought, was going to win out as the most striking image of her you’d gotten: tall, confident, her dress clinging to her figure, and most importantly, blue-green eyes, taking you in.

“Hi,” you said, more quietly than you intended, questioning her.

“Hi,” she replied.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve rushed out of there like that, I,” you started to say, but Casey stopped you, shaking her head and moving closer. She took your hand and pushed a curl behind your ear.

“I don’t think any of us know exactly what we’re doing,” she said, laughing a little into the words, “But I know I want to do it. Alex, too,” she said.

You nodded, swallowing, her reassurance bringing back some of your confidence. “Yeah,” you said, choosing not to dwell on coming up with the right words. She was standing so close to you that there was barely any space to close; but you closed it anyway. You pulled her in, your arms wrapped around her waist like they had been many times that night. Your lips touched, finally kissing her, in a way that felt inevitable but still surprising. It was a light, innocent, careful kiss, pleasant that way. You felt so many ways that you couldn’t quite sort them out-- excited, terrified, gratified. But most of all you wanted more. You broke the kiss for just enough time to start to catch your breath, then pulled her somehow closer, kissing her with more insistence, and there was nothing innocent about this one. You parted your lips, deepening the kiss, ready to give her whatever she would take. You sighed when she pulled away, looking up at her with eyes that you were sure must be dark with desire.

“Would you want to come home with me?” She asked, with an endearing uncertainty that you marveled at, knowing how impossible it would’ve been for you to refuse after that kiss.

You nodded, biting your lip. “Of course,” you breathed out, “but Alex…”

“She left a few minutes ago, I told her we’d meet her there.”

“Sure of yourself there, Novak?” you teased, already heading for the bathroom door.

Casey wrapped an arm around your waist as the two of you made your way towards the exit and a cab and the promise of even more closeness. “Maybe. But I was right, wasn’t I?”

Your reply was a smile and a bite of your lip.

---

You woke up to the smell of coffee and a borderline offensive amount of sunlight invading your foggy brain. You began to claw your way through the morning confusion, the suggestion of a hangover building in your temples. Three things were different about the scene. First, you always slept with your blinds closed. Second, someone else had made coffee. Third, when you stretched slightly forward you felt another body respond, pressing herself into you. You felt a rush of elation run from your forehead to your toes. While you were still sleepy, you couldn’t resist the urge to hug her tighter, thinking about last night, how you’d finally gotten what you’d been wanting for months. You thought about pinching yourself.

“Good morning,” Alex said, her voice raspy and full, you thought, of the same excited happiness you were feeling. You pushed yourself up on your side, reaching over to tuck Alex’s mussed hair behind her ear, then to kiss her temple. She hummed in appreciation, and as you pressed your lips to her neck, traced where your lips had been only a few hours ago, gentler, she breathed deeply, turning onto her back so you could kiss her properly. You did so, lazily shifting to sit with your legs tucked to the side. “Quite a wake-up call,” she said, giving you a satisfied smile.

“I’m not surprised Casey’s an early riser,” you said, in a teasing, loud whisper, “and I’m not surprised that you aren’t. I guess I’ll have to split the difference. I could stand to build better habits anyway.” Alex felt a flutter of excitement when you said that, implying this would happen enough to build a habit. You’d each shared a few hopes with one another last night, but part of her was going to be looking for reassurance for a little while yet.

Your phone rang, buzzing from your bag. Through some kind of miracle, it was Gillian’s turn to catch cases that day, so you thought it was probably spam and clicked it off without looking as you slid your feet off the side of the (very comfortable) bed to dangle above the floor. Alex made a noise of protest, placing a hand on your lower back. “Warm,” she said, when you laughed lightly.

“I’ll bring you coffee,” you said, your feet meeting the rug without a sound.

You were wearing a pair of Casey’s old terry shorts and one of Alex’s college shirts, that had a black line on the bottom where a bouncer had missed her hand. While that was all you’d heard of the story, you were now very eager to find out what kind of shows Alex Cabot had gone to in college. The shorts were fraying, especially one point on the right side (below the pocket) and you now had an image of Casey idly playing with the fabric while reading something dense so clear in your mind you may as well have seen it.

As you padded into the kitchen through the living room, you took notice of things you’d been too busy to see the night before: the extensive amount of poetry mixed in with the law books on the shelf, photos of Alex and Casey through the years, a few pieces of carefully chosen artwork. It was very put together and nothing like your place, but it felt right for the two of them. You had an idea, then, when you remembered the abundance of knickknacks that made their way into your tiny bag. You pulled out the first one your fingers found: a tiny duck carved out of rose quartz you’d picked up from a vendor and never found a place for in your apartment or office. Yes, it was silly and it stuck out, but despite all that, as you placed it on the large bookshelf, it fit.

“What’s his name?” Casey said, leaning in the door frame.

“How long have you been there,” you said, turning around and walking to meet her. “And good morning, I promised Alex coffee, so there better be some left.” Casey reached behind herself and handed you two mugs. “And his name is Apollo.”

“Of course,” she said, smiling. You then headed back to the bedroom, Casey walking behind you.

---

Your phone rang again almost immediately after the three of you got cozy in bed again. You didn’t usually get two spam calls in the same morning, so you motioned for Casey to hand your phone to you (as it was on her end table) and, seeing it was Ashley, you answered it, remembering that he was back from his trip that day and probably wondered why you weren’t there for breakfast. Casey and Alex could overhear the conversation, sharing charmed looks over the top of your head.

“Hey, are you alive?”

“I am alive, yes,” you replied, laughing.

“Ooooh, I know that tone!” he said excitedly. “Are you at their place?”

“I am, in fact,” you said, leaning into the hand Casey had placed on your thigh.

“Oh OK, details later,” he said, and when Alex gave you an over-the-glasses look you shrugged. “I’ll tell the girl that the mock trial rehash can wait,” he said.

You heard Ophélie begin to argue with him in the background of the call, and since you knew that meant she would want a complete explanation later (and because you really did want to know how her case went), you replied, “No, no, put her on, it’s OK.”

“Hmm,” he said, “It’s your ear.”

He wasn’t kidding. Your niece took the phone and shrieked into the microphone. You pulled it away from your head until she started saying words. Alex laughed as she blew on her hot coffee, making ripples. “I won!” she exclaimed, talking fast in the particular cadence of a preteen girl. “First, I presented a motion to exclude the evidence that Izzy, sorry, my client, was in the car because I found something in the packet that showed that it wasn’t admit-able,

“Admissible,”

“Admissible, and then I--”

“OK,” you said, “I am so proud of you, kiddo, but can we save the motion by motion for dinner?” mentioning the dinner you’d promised her for victory was enough to get her on a different track, half talking to you and half to her parents and sisters. “Alright bug, I’m hanging up now,” you said. “Bye!” you insisted when she didn’t respond.

“Bye!” came her distracted reply. You turned the phone off and set it aside, seeing the grins on both of the women beside you’s faces.

“What?” you said, your voice going up at the end of the word.

“I can see your influence,” Alex said.

“She’s going to start pulling case law on me in a few years, isn’t she?” you said.

“She can read our books,” Casey said. The way she offered something like that, comfortably, to your family, not scared off by them, struck something deep in you, that wasn’t infatuation or friendship, but the start of something else. “That is, if you’re comfortable with it, and not that you don’t have any,” she said, a hint of worry in her voice.

“That seems dangerous for my sanity, but she’d love that,” you said, assuaging any fear. Satisfied, Casey smiled and sipped her coffee. Another phone buzz came, this time from Alex’s side of the bed.

“It’s from Serena,” she said, reading the text aloud. “‘Congrats!!!!’ with four exclamation points, which feels like overkill.”

“I don’t know,” you said, “It feels appropriate to me.” Alex nodded, conceding, as you drank your coffee, looking at her over your mug.

---

On Monday, there was a café miel on your desk again. There was a note beside it, largely the same as all the other ones, except, it ended with a smudge of lipstick that you’d recognize anywhere. You tucked it into the box where you kept all the notes and you sat down at your desk. You felt like you’d never had a sweeter drink in your life.

---

taglist: @addictedtodinosaurs, @nocreditinthestraightworld, @cmmndrwidw, @hi-i-1, @lesbianologist, @alexlivdoncas, @laezzzi

#thank you for reading #fanfiction #calex fanfiction #casey novak x alex cabot #calex #calex x reader #Law & order: svu #serena southerlyn #Law & order fanfiction #forgive typos and please be gentle #I’m going to create a family that is so found #so much coffee in this on folks #so fluffy it feels vulgar a bit

[myhockeyworld87]

Ruined - Jamie Benn - Part 1

Word Count: 3,332

POV: Reader

Warnings: Language, smut, NSFW

Notes: So here we go with this new story that’s been stuck in my head and finally worked it’s way onto here. Please see the Masterlist for the synopsis. The first two parts should really be one, but I broke it into 2 because well sometimes I don’t have time to read long fics and then I lose my place, so I tried to make this a bit easier for anyone else that has this problem. So, Part 2 is coming out tonight as well. As always feedback is greatly appreciated. Happy Reading!

You sat there staring at the piece of paper in your hand, debating back in forth in your mind about what you wanted to do. This was your dream offer, just not in your dream city. In fact, if you were being honest this was the last place you saw yourself moving, but could you or would you turn it down because of him. He’d dictated most of your high school life, and some of college, to give him that kind of power over your career now would be so stupid. Especially, when you literally hadn’t seen him in almost twelve years. He probably wouldn’t even remember you, but there was no way that you could ever forget Jamie Benn.

 It was your freshman year in high school when you’d met him. He was slightly older and had just come to your secondary school to play hockey. Jamie was quiet, which seemed kind of funny for a jock. They were always loud and boisterous, but maybe you were just going by the ones in your family. By default, he was thrown in with all the other hockey players and one so happened to be your older brother, who was also friends with Jamie’s brother Jordie. The three of them ended up being thick as thieves and drove you half insane at times. Well, maybe not Jamie. When he was at your house the two of you always ended up having some random conversation about god only knew what, but it was always entertaining. You easily got a crush on him after about the seventh or eighth time you were around him but kept that to yourself. Oh, it wasn’t like you weren’t pretty or anything. It was the opposite really. Cheerleader, as well as on the track team; you were one of the more popular freshmen in school, but you were also terribly shy and inexperienced when it came to boys. You always felt, well, awkward around them, not knowing if you would say the right thing or do something embarrassing. With Jamie though, it was different. He made you feel so at ease, but then maybe part of that was because he shared the same awkwardness that you did.

 You distinctly remember one night early your sophomore year, when your brother, Justin, and Jordie decided to take both you and Jamie to a party. They practically had the school slut, throwing herself at Jamie, but it was clear the boy had no clue what to do, as his hands awkwardly fumbled her advances. Which was fine with the jealous streak that suddenly went through your entire body. She attempted to kiss him, and with all eyes focused on him, he went to return it, only to completely miss her and end up bonking her on the head. In end, he’d laughed things off saying he was too drunk, but you knew that he’d only had one beer. He somehow slipped out of the cabin you’d been partying at, and back to the woods, after the incident. Of course, you’d followed him. “Hey Jame, you ok?” He simply shrugged as you sat down on the log beside him. “Justin and Jordie can be dickheads sometimes, you know?”

 “Tell me about it.”

 “I’m sure you’re a better kisser.” Oh my god, did those words really leave your mouth? Fuck. “I mean…like…” Jamie just sort of smiled over at you as you stumbled through words that seemed to be regurgitating out of your mouth. 

 “Maybe,” he finally said, staring off into the woods, then very quietly added. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

 You had to strain your ears to catch that last part, but you were definitely sure he said he’d never had a first kiss. “Oh,” you answered softly, with a hint of surprise in your voice, though inside you were giddy. Somehow, you’d just assumed that someone like Jamie, who was athletic and good looking had definitely been kissed before. It was surprising that he admitted it to you, and before you knew what was happening that same word vomit from before was making an appearance. “Me either.”

 “Really?” His question came almost as soon as you spit out the words. Why he found that hard to believe was beyond you.

 “Yes really.”

 “I just thought….well…” This time it was Jamie stumbling through a sentence instead of you. “I know that you and David have been hanging out a lot.” 

 “David?” While it was true, you’d been hanging out with one of the school’s top soccer players, it was for a completely different reason then stolen kisses. “I’m tutoring him in biology. If he fails, he’s off the team.” The words fell from your lips before you had time to fully think them through. “Please don’t say anything. He doesn’t want anyone to know.”

 “I won’t,” Jamie told you and you knew that you could trust him with this or any secret that you had. He turned toward you then, his eyes locking with yours. “I’m glad you’re only tutoring him.”

 “Oh, why? He seems like a nice guy or have you heard different…” you trailed off not quite sure of what or why you were even asking.

 “Oh, he seems nice. I don’t really know him.” Jamie ran his fingers through his hair then. A telltale sign he was searching for the right words. “I mean…I’m glad you’re not dating him, you know…because…well I thought….” He blew out a breath and you held yours. “Maybe you’d want to date me.” Goose pimples rose on your flesh at his words. This was the moment you dreamed about, and now, here it finally was. When you didn’t answer right away Jamie added, “That is…did you want to go on a date?”

 The corners of your lips pulled up into a smile and Jamie’s did as well. “I’d like that.”

 “Me too.” He adjusted himself so that he was sitting closer to you on the log you shared. Now only an inch or two separated the two of you as he hesitantly made a move to hold your hand. It hovered just above yours for a few seconds, both of your eyes shifting down to watch as he finally clasped your hands together, and then you were both shared a stupid grin. “Can I…kiss you?”

 You were speechless at all that had transpired in the last couple of moments, and so you just nodded, both excited and afraid to share your first kiss with Jamie. You moved in closer, while Jamie did the same. Your eyes slowly going shut as your lips drew near. Jamie’s lips ghosted over yours, just barely a brush against your skin as first, but then he added a bit more pressure and it was both awkward and wonderful at the same time. You both stayed that way for several heartbeats neither of you moving, both unsure what the next move was. His free hand, the one that wasn’t tightly laced with yours, came up to caress your cheeks, and then your lips were moving together and it was one kiss simply melting into a million more. Unconsciously, you sighed. Your lips parting open for him and his tongue darted into your mouth. Eyes flying open at the contact, you weren’t sure how to react. Of course, you knew what a French kiss was, had seen it on television a million times, but to experience it was quite different. You realized you could taste the beer he’d drunk earlier and something else, though you couldn’t put your finger on it. Tentatively, you let your tongue mingle with his, letting your eyes flutter shut once again so you could savor the feel of this kiss; your first kiss with Jamie Benn. 

 It was one of many that you shared with Jamie over the next few months. He took you out on several dates, mostly to the movies or to the little pizza shop you both loved, but most nights were either spent on your couch or his, where you’d watch hockey and then makeout until it was time for curfew. Your relationship progressed about as much as any fifteen going on sixteen-year-olds did; there was a lot of holding hands and quiet kisses. On night’s that one of your parents would go out and leave you both alone, it definitely went from first to second base rather quickly, and you learned that Jamie was definitely a boob man. He became an expert at unclasp your bra in record time, of course, there was a learning curve that involved a lot of fumbling around. 

 It was Jamie’s birthday, that you decided to give him a present he’d never forget. For the life of you at the age of fifteen, you couldn’t figure out why it was called a blowjob when you were definitely supposed to suck on his cock. Thankfully, you’d seen enough of your brother’s porn stash to know how to give a proper one and not look completely stupid. Though you didn’t expect to gag when Jamie thrust his hips into your face uncontrollably. At least you recovered quickly and were able to swallow most of his cum when it shot down the back of your throat. It was two weeks later that he finally reciprocated, by going down on you in the backseat of his car. While not the most romantic place in the world, his tongue flicking across your clit made up for the cliché atmosphere. 

 By the end of summer, you’d rounded all the bases but hadn’t hit a home run yet. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to sleep with Jamie; it was the exact opposite. However, there just wasn’t a time or place for the deed to get done. The two of you had discussed and decided that you wanted to make it special and not just make it some little box that you could check off in your relationship. This would be the first time for both of you, so while it was going to be memorable, you also wanted to savor it. As neither of you were eighteen yet, it wasn’t like you could go and get a hotel, for you’d thought about that option, and you’d already ruled at the car. With limited options in Victoria, you had no choice but to travel to your parents' second house on the outskirts of Vancouver. It was rarely used, as your dad only stayed there on business trips which had become less frequent over the last couple of years. Even though the house was rarely occupied, you came up with an elaborate plan for your parents to let you not only stay there overnight but travel there by yourself. Well, technically it wasn’t by yourself as you said you were going with your best friend Emma. Who covered for you, god love her.

 You weren’t sure what excuse Jamie had told his parents, but he picked you up at Emma’s house one Saturday morning and the two of you made the trip in less than three hours. It was a nerve-wracking drive, though Jamie held your hand most of the time. It wasn’t really the thought of having sex with Jamie that made you uneasy. It was the thought of having sex period. You were afraid it was going to hurt, but you kept trying to push past that thought, knowing that you wanted to do this, more so that you wanted to do this with Jamie. 

 It was awkward, just like all your firsts with Jamie were, but eventually, you two were able to move past that, and in the end, it was actually kind of amazing. Though the most wonderful part had to be falling asleep in Jamie’s arms. He’d made you felt so loved and cherished, and you’d known right then and there that you’d made the right decision to give you virginity away to this man. It felt like the two of you would be together forever.

 That was until the following Tuesday at school came around. There were stares and whispers everywhere you looked, or so it seemed. It wasn’t until lunchtime, that you finally found out what was going on, and then it was only from Emma. “Em, what is going on with everyone? I feel like half these guys are staring at me.”

 She closed her eyes as if mustering up the courage to tell you something she didn’t want to. “Jamie told everyone that you two slept together.” You gasped, then quickly covered up both your mouth and the hurt that came along with it. “That’s not the worst of it,” Emma said and it felt like your heart just sank into your stomach. “I also heard that he told people you two have been fucking for months.” There were so many ‘whys’ and ‘how could he’ running around in your head you couldn’t make heads or tails of them. Jamie wouldn’t do this, there had to be some explanation. Your eyes scanned the cafeteria looking for him, but he was nowhere to be found. You were just about to get up and look for him when Emma’s hand came down on yours. “There’s more. He said the only reason he was dating you was because you were easy.” Bile rose in the back of your throat and you wanted to just run to the girls' bathroom and cry, but Emma stopped you. “Don’t,” she said simply. “If you go, it will just feed more gossip. Act like nothing is wrong and that nothing happened. Like you don’t care.” Easy for her to say when it felt like your heart was being ripped out of your chest along with your reputation. “Breathe.” You hadn’t realized you’d stopped until she said the word. 

 The rest of the day was a complete blur. You couldn’t find Jamie anywhere. As soon as you could make it home after practice, you were dialing his number. His mom answered, “I’m sorry (Y/N), Jamie’s not feeling well. I’ll have him call you when he’s feeling better.” The next day passed and still the lingering stares, mostly from the guys, continued. You’d even had a few ask you out, to which you simply rolled your eyes and told them it would only happen in their dreams. Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say and just added fuel to the fire, making it seem like everything that Jamie had said true. He avoided you yet another day and you were beginning to wonder if he was going to pretend to be sick the entire school year just so he didn’t have to face you. By the third day that you hadn’t heard from him, you knew it was done. No matter what excuse he could give you, it would never make up for not only what he said but the way he’d treated you afterward. You simply needed to move on. So, when you saw him at school the following day, you completely ignored him. He attempted to talk to you several times, but you weren’t having it. “Come on (Y/N), please just talk to me.”

 “I think you’ve done enough talking for the both of us Jamie. We’re through.” There was hurt in his eyes and you wanted to break down and cry right then and there, but you held your head up high and continued down the hall to your next class. It was two periods later that Emma was handing you a note. You unfolded it, seeing Jamie’s writing on the top.

 (Y/N),

I’m sorry. Please let me explain….

 That’s all you read before tearing the letter up and tossing it in the garbage can in front of Jamie, hoping he would get the point and leave you alone. He didn’t. As soon as you walked in the door of your house, your mom told you he’d called three times already. After explaining that the two of you broke up, and crying on your mom’s shoulder for a half-hour, though not mentioning the details of your breakup; she told Jamie not to call back when the phone rang again. Ever persistent, Jamie came banging on the door after dinner. This time it was your dad that told him he wasn’t wanted in your home, even though Jamie was practically begging him to let you in, while you sobbed in the background. He kept up the same routine over the next week, all with the same result until eventually, he gave up.

 Over the next two weeks, you could hear the whispers as you walked down the hall. Girls muttering that you were slut, while the boys were trying to figure out which one of them would get to sample you next; now that it was clear you were no longer with Jamie. The icing on the cake was when David, the soccer player you’d been tutoring told everyone that you hadn’t been studying at all; that he’d been sleeping with you for the last month. No matter how many times you said it was a lie, no one believed you. Your reputation was simply shredded apart all by a few words Jamie had uttered. So, after a couple months of being talked about, there was only one thing left to do, and that was to become that girl that they whispered about. If they were going to condemn you, you might as well earn it.

 Your junior and senior year, you became the girl that gave the star point guard a blow job behind the bleachers after the game, as well as giving one to the goalie, the wide receiver, and the captain of the debate team, and a few more as well. Jamie seemed to take out his aggression on the ice, dropping the gloves with opponents left and right, but you tried to pay him no mind. Until he finally went to play for the Grizzlies and you didn’t have to see him all the time. By then end of high school, you truly had earned the reputation that he’d given you, but you were sick of it. Tired of being looked at for only sex, you applied to schools in the US. Thankfully, while you’d jumping from penis to penis, you’d still kept up your studies and were accepted at every school you’d applied to. 

 When you received your acceptance letter from Georgetown, along with a scholarship, you jumped at the chance to put yourself all the way across the continent from not only Jamie but what you’d become. At University, you put your head to the books instead of on some unknown guy’s cock, studying constantly which earned you a 4.0 in undergrad, and basically allowed you have your pick at the top medical schools in both Canada and the United States. It was a no brainer when John Hopkins wanted you and during your time there, you were able to work with not only the Baltimore Ravens but the Orioles as well, all within your first year. Which had you taking up orthopedics and sports medicine as your specialty. 

 All of this led you to today and the offer you were currently mulling over. It was literally everything you’d ever wanted and allowed you to work with not only the NFL but the NBA and the NHL as well. It was the last one that had you rethinking it though. The pros well outweighed the only one con that you could think of and that was Jamie Benn. Who’s to say if he’d even remember you though? It wasn’t like you could forget him after what he’d done, but you let him dictate enough of your life; you weren’t about to let him continue. So, you typed up your written acceptance, then called Dr. Ellis to let him know you were taking the job. You’d made a new reputation for yourself this time around and you weren’t about to let Jamie Benn ruin this one. 

#ruined the series #jamie benn #jamie benn smut #jamie benn imagine #jamie benn imagines #jamie benn fanfic #dallas stars #dallas stars imagine #dallas stars imagines #dallas stars fanfic #nhl smut #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fanfic #hockey smut #hockey imagine #hockey imagines

[spencers-renaissance]

Vivaldi on Full Volume

Summary: Spencer's done enough pining, so he decides to write a letter for Aaron telling him exactly how he feels and gives it to him on the jet. He cannot be held responsible for what happens when they land.

Tags: Love Confessions, Fluff, Getting Together, Insecurity, My Typical CM Characterisation: Protective Aaron, Shy Spencer oops

Pairing: Hotch/Reid

Word Count: 5.2k

Read on Ao3

The Love Letter, Uninterrupted

Spencer’s hands are shaking as he gets up from his seat in the corner of the jet. They’re 40 minutes away from landing, deliberately planned well in advance: everyone’s well and truly settled, there isn’t long to wait for a private conversation and people haven’t woken up to prepare for landing yet. This is well thought out, he tells himself, trying to be convincing. There isn’t much that can go wrong.

Except there absolutely is. He’s run all the possible outcomes over and over in his head, at night, on the jet, spare moments in cases; he knows pretty much every possibility in and out. The worst case scenario, of course, is Aaron flips and hurts him or never talks to him again, but he knows logically that this is unlikely. No, the most likely situation is a polite rejection and a rift in their relationship, but it’s a risk he has to take. This limbo is too painful to exist in forever: he has to give himself a chance at happiness, and if that doesn’t happen he needs a chance to get over him. 

Aaron is, predictably, sitting on his own at the other end of the jet, getting a head start on his paperwork. He’d shot Spencer a questioning look when he’d opted to sit on his own instead of opposite or next to him, but everyone knows that Spencer sometimes needs a moment to himself and after he’d responded with a reassuring smile, Aaron had smiled back and looked down. 

“Reid,” he greets him as he looks up from the plethora of forms and files and reports littering the table in front of him, that questioning look returning and bleeding into his voice. “Is there anything I can do for you?” he asks after Spencer stands there frozen for a moment, shaking him out of his head and reminding him of his mission. 

“Yeah, sorry,” he says softly, chuckling a little. “Here. Can you do me a favour and… read this for me? All the way to the end? Leave your questions for the end, and we can talk once we land.” He hands him the pretty stationery wrapped in a tissue paper envelope. The seal is a deep navy that had reminded Spencer of Aaron the moment he saw it in the shop, and he used it even though he knew it would tear the tissue and was utterly pointless. His hands still shake a little as he passes it over, but he doesn’t blame himself. Anyone would be nervous. This isn’t just a Spencer thing.

Once Aaron has the letter in his hands he turns it, looking it over, before meeting Spencer’s anxious gaze with his own steady one, now filled with growing curiosity. “Of course,” he says, indulgently. It’s one of Spencer’s favourite things about him, his stoicism in the face of a surprise. He doesn’t react in a way that might further upset somebody when they share something with him, and it makes him an excellent leader. 

Spencer shoots him another nervous but meaningful smile, the kind he uses with his friends, with Henry, with people he cares about. People he’s been in love with for five years. Whatever. 

He turns away and doesn’t look back.

★

Aaron struggles to contain his curiosity long enough to wait until Spencer is settled back in his seat on the other side of the plane. This must be why he’d chosen to sit somewhere other than next to him on this flight which had admittedly confused him a little, Spencer usually liked the familiarity and comfort of sitting next to him. He’d suspected he needed space but now it seems as though he was psyching himself up to hand this letter to him. 

It’s not a resignation letter, Aaron is fairly certain of that, Spencer would never use such beautiful stationery and a seal in his favourite colour for something so straightforward and professional. He’d also given him one of those heart-warmingly open and trusting smiles before turning back, even if it was a little anxious. This is something personal. 

Finally giving into his curiosity, he carefully opens the handmade envelope and pulls out the letter written on high-quality paper in Spencer’s delicate script. 

Aaron,

I have debated sitting down and putting pen to paper to write this letter for a long time, much less handing it to you to read. This is perhaps the most forward thing I have ever done, and you will understand that it is also the bravest. I know I am crossing a line in writing this. I have never been one to break the rules, it's something we have in common, isn't it? We're both straight arrows. Perhaps I am hoping for too much. I am not the object of many's desire and maybe it is foolish to hope that someone as amazing as you could possibly be the exception, but if I don't get it out of my system I'm afraid this secret may bubble up and swallow me whole, its acidic aftertaste never quite leaving my mouth.

Immediately, Aaron’s heart starts beating out of his chest. Spencer rarely calls him Aaron -- the whole team operates on a largely last-name only basis -- but he’d be lying if those infrequent times when his first name leaves Spencer’s lips don’t make his heart flutter and insides warm. His face betrays him, he knows, but this might just be everything he’s been hoping to hear for the last four years and the team is asleep or preoccupied right now, thanks to Spencer’s clearly well-planned timing. He can afford to let his guard down a little.

His stomach clenches, though, when he sees Spencer’s insecurity bleeding into his writing, the ink revealing his painful self-doubt where his lips keep them tightly sealed away. He’s absolutely everything Aaron is craving, and if others can’t see that then it’s their own loss. He knows, though, that Spencer is too oblivious for his own good: the rest of the team don’t miss the looks he gets when they go out for drinks, but Spencer does. Spencer could get anyone he wants, even if he doesn’t realise it, and the honour of being the chosen person isn’t lost on him.

The truth of the matter is we live dangerous lives. This plane could crash, one of us could get shot, stabbed, blown up and not survive it next time. I need to take advantage of the fact that right now we are alive, and if there is any chance that I could live my life alongside yours then I must take it.

That makes Aaron let out a small, breathy laugh. He’d thought the same exact thing so many times, but Spencer was a lot braver than he was. Even if it didn’t have the potential for a sexual harrassment suit and the loss of his job, he’s not sure he’d have the bravery to tell Spencer just how in love with him he is. Not in a letter written with a fountain pen on pretty stationery, not to his face, not in front of others, not alone. Spencer has guts he’d lost a long time ago. A risky job had led to a tightly controlled personal life. He plays it safe. Spencer doesn’t.

Here is what I want:

I want to throw caution to the wind and live vicariously with you. Let's eat pancakes for dinner, drive down the interstate with the windows down and listen to Vivaldi on full volume, let's hold hands in the street in Virginia and say fuck it to anybody who has a problem with it. I want to get stuck in your head the way you're stuck in mine: when you're doing paperwork, I want to be in the back of your head. I want to excite you when you think of me naked, when you think of me spread out beneath you. Not a moment goes by where I don't think of you, Aaron. I wish I was on your mind in the same way.

Aaron’s face breaks out into a much wider smile. Oh, God, Spencer, he thinks, sending his eyes to the ceiling of the jet. You have no idea. Spencer doesn’t have to wish for this, to crave such a thing, it’s already happening. It feels like paperwork takes twice as long as it used to do before he fell in love with Spencer. It’s not even limited to his job: doing laundry, washing the dishes, cooking dinner, driving Jack to a soccer match, watching TV -- everything he does is consumed by thoughts of Spencer.

And Jesus Christ have mercy, the thought of Spencer spread out naked beneath him, what he looks like under those conservative button ups and cardigans, plays out behind his eyelids far too often. It’s made him feel like a pervert for years, fantasising about his much younger coworker and wondering what he likes in bed, how he could make him feel good. The idea that the same thoughts about him fill Spencer’s brain has him weak at the knees and hot under the collar. Of course he chose the jet to do this, he thinks amusedly. 

Let's find new TV shows and movies together! There's nothing I'd like more than to cuddle up against your chest after a hard case and watch something that we both enjoy, that gives us a sense of comfort and familiarity. On the weekends, let's get dressed up and visit fancy restaurants only to have a cheap crepe at the end of the night before rushing back home to get undressed again. I want to be yours, and I want you to prove that to the world.

Aaron’s heart is melting slowly, dripping down the inside of his chest, he’s sure of it. He’s walked into his apartment after a hard case feeling empty and defeated, wishing Spencer was there to give him a hug and take away the pain far too many times. It only ever made him feel worse, the belief that that would never happen, it never could happen, only now he’s being proved wrong. 

He already knows the first place he’ll take Spencer. Rossi had treated him to dinner there once after Haley passed away, and the ambience and seafood paella had wedged itself firmly into his mind. He’d fantasised many times about how Spencer’s eyes would look in the soft lighting, how he’d laugh in the relaxed setting, how he’d feel spoiled and loved when Aaron footed the bill, ignoring his protests. His heart feels full and bursting at the thought that soon these ideas might not be as far-fetched as he’d convinced himself for so long. He wishes he could see Spencer right now, but he knows he’s probably panicking quietly in the corner, and he was told to save his questions for the end. He’ll play on his terms, especially since it was Spencer who’d had the bravery to do this in the first place.

My biggest fear in writing this letter, though, may not be that you simply won't return my affections, but that you're still in love with Haley. I could never seek to replace her, but I know how deeply you loved her and how painful the wounds of your grief still are. I hope you know, Aaron, that if you do love me back, I'm not jealous of Haley. Not at all. I respect her and I respect your grief.

He can’t help the stab of pain in his gut at the mention of Haley. He’d loved her so deeply and he knew the team was acutely aware of that, Spencer probably more than anybody else if this letter was anything to go by. It strikes him then, just how kind Spencer is. He’s always known it on some level, of course, but the selfless compassion and love for the people around him is so overwhelming when he takes a moment to properly comprehend it. He could have glossed over his late wife in such a letter, but instead he chose to promise Aaron that he could share his heart with Haley. He knows Spencer will keep such a promise. 

I've tried for years to hide the way I feel, Aaron. I went on dates to try and get over you, I dodged you in the break room and bullpen to avoid conversing with you which only made my infatuation worse each time, I feigned plans to get out of family nights because seeing you in a casual setting is so cuttingly painful. I can't hide it anymore, though. I'd rather transfer out of the BAU than continue in this limbo of awkward pining. If you hate me, that's okay, I can deal with that. But there isn't much I don't know, and not knowing this? It's agonising.

Aaron’s stomach clenches again. He wishes they hadn’t been pining all these years so Spencer didn’t have to exist in the parallel of his own realm of wistful agony. The thought of him avoiding him in the break room with the empty ache of unrequited love filling his insides, believing he could never have him when Aaron had been doing the same thing is almost laughable: they were both so oblivious.

Seeing Spencer dressed in jeans and a t-shirt last year when Morgan had invited them all to one of his renovation projects had tortured him for weeks afterwards, and now he was being told that he’d done the same to him; Spencer had gone home after those gatherings and thought about him casual and relaxed, unbuttoned polo shirts and all. It’s almost unbearable. 

It’s reassuring, though, to know Spencer is as committed to this hypothetical as he is. Aaron would leave the BAU, too, if it came to it. If it meant he got to come home to Spencer and cuddle him on the sofa with history documentaries playing on the TV that Spencer was subconsciously memorising and would repeat the next time it was even slightly relevant in conversation. If it meant he could smile knowingly, and wrap an arm around his oblivious boyfriend’s waist, proving to the world that Spencer was his, just like he asked. 

The only way to end this letter is with hope. Any answer you give me I will respect, but I am holding out hope that you will say all this back to me, that you will write your own love letter or profess your own love. That you have similar fantasies and daydreams about me, that you've thought of all these things, too. Thank you for reading this all the way through, Aaron. All that's left to say are five simple words:

I'm in love with you.

Spencer.

Aaron reads the letter over once more before folding it carefully and placing it back in the envelope. He’s completely floored, to be honest. The last thing he expected after a fairly straight-forward case in Seattle was a love confession from the man he’d been in love with since before Haley even passed away, but he’s going to take it and run with it, consequences be damned. 

The plane starts to descend and the rest of the team begin rousing from their naps or putting their books down as chatter starts to rise. “Right,” Aaron says, grabbing everyone’s attention, though Spencer keeps himself carefully tucked away in the corner. “We should have the next few days off though we are on standby, okay? Everyone get some rest, make sure you come back refreshed and ready to tackle the next case. Don’t forget your reports though, have them emailed to me or on my desk by Monday.” He gives everyone a tight smile before turning away as conversations resumed. 

He knows Spencer is tormenting himself by analysing every cadence in his voice, trying to gauge his reaction and he longs to walk over to him and kiss his anxieties away, but he can’t. Spencer specifically asked him to wait until they landed, and he can’t reveal anything to the team so early, certainly not without discussing it first. Instead, he sits back in his seat, abandoning the paperwork in front of him in favour of fighting the fond, excited smile off his face and imagining his first kiss with Spencer, the anticipation making it so much more intense now that it’s actually real.

Time, as it always does, passes, however slowly. They eventually land and Aaron schools his face as the rest of the team pour out onto the tarmac. “Right everyone, I’ll see you in a few days but keep your phones on in case we get called up,” he calls once they’re all off the plane. As everyone starts to peel off to the garage or the office, he turns to Spencer, still keeping his face straight for the sake of others around them. “How about we go to my place and talk.”

“That sounds good,” Spencer says, small smile taking the edge off the anxiety on his face. 

★

The car ride back to Aaron’s apartment is quiet. “I don’t need to pick Jack up until the morning, so it’s just us tonight,” he explains, and Spencer is relieved to see his face soften significantly now they’re alone. He allows a dash of hope to flare in his chest before forcing himself to temper his expectations. You don’t know anything yet. He could be letting you down easy, this could be a pity thing. His fingers drum anxiously against his thigh as Aaron drives, eyes focused straight on the road, his face still unreadable. God, does he have to be so sexy when he drives? 

Just like the time on the plane, though, the time in the car eventually passes, the tension thick between them by the time Aaron pulls into his apartment complex. He smiles gently at Spencer as he takes the key out of the ignition. “Shall we head up?” he asks, and Spencer’s floored at what he sees in his face: he’s wearing the expression he only pulls when he looks at Jack or the team as a whole on a relaxed evening out. To see it directed at him exclusively is a kind of intensity he isn’t prepared for and it bowls him over for a second. 

“Yeah,” Spencer laughs breathily. “Sorry, yeah. Let’s go up.” 

The apartment door closing behind them sounds way too loud to Spencer and, sick of the tension, he decides to try and clear the air. “Look, Aaron, Hotch, can you just tell me--”

He’s cut off by Aaron’s lips pressing firmly against his own, a hand coming to rest on his waist while another grips his face gently. It takes him a second to catch up before he’s kissing back, overwhelmed by the feeling of Aaron’s hands on his body, the very hands he’s admired for years, the hands he’s fantasised about, the hands that make him feel things. He reaches up to place his own on Aaron’s chest, feeling the broadness there, the strength in the body against his making him weak at the knees. 

Aaron pulls away eventually. “God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he says, voice as breathless as Spencer feels. 

“Me too,” he replies, chest heaving as he catches his breath. “Maybe… maybe we should do it again.” He smiles shyly at Aaron before leaning in again, this time gasping a little as Aaron pushes him back against the door for leverage, tracing his hand up and down Spencer’s sides, making him tremble in his grip.

“God, Spencer, you’re so damn breathtaking,” Aaron says in between fervent kisses. “Literally.” They both giggle into each others’ mouths at that, relief filling both of them up to the brim as the knowledge that finally, finally, their pining is over sets in. This could be it, they could build something real. 

“Aaron,” Spencer moans, trembling more as Aaron presses himself closer, right hand moving to grip the back of his neck gently, holding him firmly against his body. It overwhelms Spencer a bit, feeling completely surrounded by a man who was so unattainable for so long, by the person he’s been in love with for years. 

It was completely involuntary, but it makes Aaron pull away, resting his forehead against Spencer’s as they both breathe deeply. “We should talk,” he says softly, pressing a final chaste kiss to Spencer’s lips before pulling back completely and taking his hand, leading him to the sofa. 

“Could I have a blanket or something?” Spencer asks shyly, looking sheepish. “I’m a bit chilly.”

He sees realisation dawn on Aaron’s face along with a little bit of guilt. “Of course, Spencer,” he says. “Sorry this is so backwards. Do you want anything else? Something to eat or drink?”

“No, I’m fine,” Spencer says lightly. “Let’s talk and then we could order some dinner?” 

“Sounds perfect,” he smiles, reaching over into a cupboard and bringing out a thick, fluffy blanket. He drapes it over Spencer and makes sure he’s completely comfortable before sitting down opposite him on the sofa himself. “So. Your letter.”

Spencer ducks his head, a light flush tinting his cheeks. “Yeah, I guess I didn’t know how else to say it?” he says, a question colouring his voice. 

“No, I’m not criticising you,” Aaron rushes to clarify. “It’s possibly the most romantic, beautiful thing anyone’s ever done for me, and the truth is, Spencer, I’m in love with you, too.”

Spencer’s head darts up, wide, earnest eyes meeting Aaron’s serious gaze. “You are?” he asks, voice filled with the surprised sort of wonderment that always betrays him whenever any sort of love or affection is revealed to him.

“I am,” Hotch chuckles fondly. “Very much so. I’ve loved you since before Haley passed, to be honest. I’ve done all the things you wrote in your letter, too; I want all the same things you do.”

Spencer’s blush darkens a bit at that, remembering… certain parts… of his letter that he hopes Aaron includes in that statement. “All of it?” His voice is a little squeaky, almost cracking as he clears his throat at the awkwardness. 

“Yeah,” Aaron grins cheekily, loving that he can appreciate the blush on Spencer’s cheeks openly now. There’s no more room for hiding. “All of it.” 

Spencer clears his throat again. “So, is this what you want? Me? A relationship?” he asks, still a little uncertain, not quite secure in the fact that Aaron won’t back off and say this was an experiment, he’s not really committed in the same way Spencer is. 

“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away,” Aaron says earnestly. “I want you. I want everything that comes with you, I want the highs and lows of a relationship, I want commitment, I want fun, I want seriousness. Spencer, will you be my boyfriend?” 

Spencer’s brain short circuits for a second before he looks up with the widest smile, one usually reserved for Henry, the kind that reveals unadulterated, unconditional love. “Yes,” he whispers as he launches himself across the sofa and into Aaron’s arms, resting his head on his chest as he revels in the comfort of that exact moment. Finally, though, the extreme emotions of the evening catch up with him and he can’t quite fight them off anymore, maybe his brain is finally convinced that he doesn’t have to, that he’s safe here. Whatever the reason, he can’t help the tears that start to leak from his eyes, or the sobs that softly wrack his shoulders. 

“Spencer,” Aaron whispers back, voice dripping in concern. “Spencer, what’s wrong?” 

“It’s just… it happened,” he tries to explain through his snivelling. “What I hoped for… at the end of my letter. I wrote ‘I am holding out hope that you will say all this back to me, that you will write your own love letter or profess your own love. That you have similar fantasies and daydreams about me, that you've thought of all these things, too.’ And you did. You do.”

“Yeah,” Aaron says, struck with awe, too. “It’s pretty overwhelming for me, too.”

They lie like that for a while longer, finding comfort in one another’s arms, the weight of Spencer weighing Aaron down in a way that feels like security and Aaron’s arms wrapping around him in a way that gives him all the comfort and protection he craves.

Eventually, Spencer picks his head up and meets Aaron’s tired eyes. It had been a long case and an emotionally exhausting evening, and it was nearing midnight. “Shall I order some pizza?” he asks, playing with the tie Aaron was still wearing, slightly loosened but still sexy enough for Spencer to very much appreciate. 

“Please,” he says, leaning forward to press a kiss to Spencer’s lips. “I can’t believe I just get to do that now.”

Spencer hums in content. “Well, by all means, Mr Hotchner, do it again,” he says in a sultry tone.

Aaron groans. “You’d better not talk like that, Spencer, or we’ll never get our pizza.” 

“Sorry, sorry,” he chuckles. “You get us some drinks and get the telly set up. I’ll be right back.” 

Aaron closes the curtains, turns off the overhead light and turns on some lamps and lights some candles. Spencer raises an eyebrow at that and he puts his hands up defensively. “What? They’re cosy!” Spencer giggles at that, kissing him again. 

“Can we put the history channel on?” Spencer asks while Aaron turns the TV on and fiddles with the volume. 

“Wouldn’t expect anything less, sweetheart.” Spencer ducks his head and blushes, insides warming and tingling at the affection. He’s still not entirely sure this isn’t a dream. Aaron, unfortunately, doesn’t miss it. “Aw, are you blushing? Do you like that, you like it when I call you sweetheart?” he teases, smiling warmly at Spencer, clearly relishing in the deep red colour of his face. “Or is it just any pet name? You like it when I call you pretty names, baby?”

Spencer nearly outright moans at that but manages to stifle it, not that it makes much of a difference in Aaron’s delighted expression. “Stop, Aaron,” he whines in a manner that conveys he would very much not like Aaron to stop. 

“God, baby, you are too much to handle,” he groans, leaning across the sofa to pull Spencer away from his perch against the corner and into his chest. They lay quietly like that for a few minutes while the history channel plays a documentary about the Battle of Trafalger, breathing deep and slow as they appreciate this little slice of serenity while they wait for their dinner to arrive.

Once their pizza boxes are empty and they’ve finally had something to eat, Aaron turns to Spencer who’s meticulously wiping the pizza grease on his fingers away with a napkin, making him smile fondly. “Hey, Spence?” he asks, grabbing the attention of the younger man. “I wanted to talk to you about something you wrote in your letter.” 

Spencer looks a little bit like a rabbit caught in the headlights, hesitant as to what Aaron is about to say. What if he was mortally offended by something, or he didn’t like something I wrote? Was I too forward?

“First of all, I’ll always love Haley, but in a distant, wistful kind of way that I can’t quite explain. She’s been gone for a while now and I’ve moved on,” he explains, and Spencer’s flush returns. It’s one thing to write the letter, hell, it’s one thing to hand it to Aaron, but it’s another thing entirely to discuss the ins and outs of his heart in such graphic detail. “I fell in love with you very slowly, but I’d realised it around four months before Haley died. I’ll grant you that in the following year I didn’t really have much time or emotional capacity to dwell on it but it was always there in the back of my mind, and it’s only intensified over the last two years.”

“Really?” The flush is still firmly rooted to Spencer’s face, but his eyes are wide now, staring into Aaron’s with an earnest sort of intensity. “I had no idea.”

“Well I had no idea that you wanted everything I did, either,” Aaron chuckles. “Instead we’ve just been existing in a state of perpetual mutual pining and if you hadn’t had the bravery to do what you did, maybe we never would have known.”

“It was rather brave,” Spencer smiles, joking a bit, but they both know it’s the truth. “I’ve been in love with you since the Tobias Hankel situation. After you understood me and knew how to find me, how you saved my life. It spiralled from there and no effort to try and get over you has succeeded.”

“Mmm you mentioned,” Aaron hums. “I must say, I’m a bit jealous of these other dates you speak of.”

“Well you shouldn’t be,” Spencer says. “They didn’t hold a candle to you, and the few that made it past the first couple of dates knew that all too well.”

Aaron chuckles lightly at that before they settle into a comfortable silence, the TV still playing the background. “Do you want to stay here tonight?” he asks, voice low and a bit unsure. “No funny business, I just… don’t want to let you go yet.”

“Me neither,” Spencer says honestly. “Of course I’ll stay.” He can hear his voice still sounds a little squeaky, still vulnerable in this new situation. 

Aaron smiles back and turns the lights and TV off, blowing out the candles before offering a hand to Spencer as they make their way to his room. 

“Oh,” Spencer says, stopping in his tracks as soon as they step into Aaron’s bedroom. “I left my go bag in the car.”

“I’m sure we can find a solution to that,” Aaron smirks, pushing the bedroom door closed with his left hand and crowding him up against it with his right, diving for his neck. Spencer moans high in his throat, pressing forward further into Aaron’s hold. “You can wear one of my shirts. God, I’ve fantasised about you in my clothes for years, baby.” 

“So… so possessive,” Spencer teases through Aaron’s kisses.

“Yeah, you love it.”

“I do. I love you.”

That gets Aaron to pull away, looking deep into Spencer’s eyes, awe filling his gaze. “I love you, too. Fuck it feels so good to hear that, to finally say that.”

“I know.” Spencer’s blushing slightly, the forwardness of his remark embarrassing him slightly. 

“Come on,” Aaron says, pressing one final kiss to Spencer’s lips. “Let’s get ready for bed. I’ll find you a top and I know I have a spare toothbrush around here somewhere…”

Spencer smiles, sitting on the bed as he watches Aaron bustle around the room, finding the stuff he needs for the night. This could be it, he thinks. This could be my life now. Domesticity had never much appealed to Spencer, but sitting there now as Aaron chatters away about the visit to the shopping centre that has resulted in buying the top he tosses Spencer’s way, he knows he was right to change his mind. He was right to crave this, to crave pancakes for dinner and new TV shows and lazy mornings.

And when they’re finally cuddled up in bed, warm under the covers and safe in one another’s arms, he knows he was right to share that craving with Aaron. 

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds writing #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #hotchreid #hotch x reid

[fandomlurker]

A Ponderous Rewatch: Jockey For Position

Now that we’re done with that long cameo, it’s time for our feature presentation for tonight, and it’s a doozy!:

We open with Pinky frantically running on a spinning globe while Brain stands above him on the…globe holder? I don’t know if that part has a name or not.

“[winded gasps] Can I stop now, Brain?”

“Not until I finish my demonstration.”

Brain, that’s just… Well I was about to say it was mean, but given that Pinky understands the details of his plans better when Brain demonstrates it or draws elaborate diagrams, maybe it’s for the best? I doubt Brain could make that large globe spin just by using his hands, and Pinky’s been seen a lot of times running on the mouse wheel in their cage so he’s gotta be pretty in shape. Still, it feels like Pinky’s been running for a lot longer than he needed to…

You know what? I change my mind. It is a bit mean, Brain.

“When I build my reverse geotropic arrestor, Pinky, and throw it from the North Pole like this…”

The word “geotropic” doesn’t quite sound right. I wonder…

…Okay, yeah, Brain’s getting worse at naming things.

“…In a matter of seconds the cable will become taut, gravity will cease, and everyone will fly off the face of the Earth!”

Oh my GOD, Brain. This has got to be the stupidest plan you have come up with yet! Nothing about this will work.

Well, there goes poor Pinky.

“Leaving us alone to assume control.”

It’s still “us”, huh? Noted.

Long Pinky.

“Egad, Brain, brilliant! Haha hehe heh—!”

Pinky, sweetheart, I know praising Brain is kind of your thing but this is one time I’m going to have to call you out on your bias because this is super not brilliant and I’m actually a little worried for Brain’s mental state.

“—Oh wait, no, no. What’s going to keep us from flying off the Earth?”

That’s one flaw of many, Pinky, but I guess it’s as good a start as any.

“We will duct tape ourselves to a tree.”

Because the tree will totally stay in the ground when the Earth abruptly stops spinning. Not that it will stop spinning, because none of this makes any sense.

Brain, did this idea come from, like, a dream you had or something? Is that why the plan is working on dream logic?

I know this is a comedy cartoon and this is all a joke but sometimes Brain’s plans are so fucking out-there I just have to roast him for it.

“Unfortunately we still need to raise money to buy a one billion ton magnet. But I have a solution!”

Oh boy, can’t wait to hear the solution to this one. It’s gonna be stellar if the whole plan today is anything to go by.

Oh nice, Brain’s the one sewing for a change! Usually this is Pinky’s area of expertise, but it’s always nice to see that Brain can do some classically domestic things too.

“Tomorrow is the running of the Kentucky Derby. Do you know what that is?”

Most of my knowledge on it comes from “My Brother, My Brother, and Me” goofs, so my mind keeps autocorrecting it to “Kenfucky Derby”, but go on.

“Umm… Oh! A very large hat?”

“Promise me something, Pinky. Never breed.”

“I’ll try.”

Well, that’s going to come back to haunt them.

“The Kentucky Derby is the biggest horse race of the year. There’s a one million dollar purse going to the jockey riding the winning horse.”

“And I am going to win that purse!”

Okay, first off: Pinky, are you just going to stand there and stare at Brain as he gets changed? Like, I understand they’re naked normally and this is the exact opposite of stripping but umm…

Secondly: Brain, did you really have to get that up close to tell Pinky this? You two are making this too easy for me.

“Zort, Brain! A million dollar purse?!? Ooooh!~ You’re going to need matching pumps and earrings for that!”

Pinky’s got his priorities in order.

“Focus, Pinky, focus!”

“Now watch.”

And now Brain’s ordering Pinky to watch him dress and I just…I have no words. This is all so suspect. Why do you two even need a dressing screen if you’re usually naked anyway? And it shouldn’t matter if anyone sees you get dressed unless this is some weird reverse nudity taboo you two have developed and if that’s the case, why are you allowing Pinky to watch? And if it’s for a dramatic reveal WHY ARE YOU ORDERING HIM TO WATCH YOU CHANGE???

This episode is already so goddamn wild.

I am really not sure how I feel about that pan-up of Brain when he’s thrust his pelvis forward. At least the outfit is cute, though.

“Narf! Oh, Brain, I get it! You’re a beautiful lawn ornament!”

“Beautiful”, huh? Also noted.

“Look at me, narf, I’m a pink flamingo! Ahahaheh!”

Oh LORD, Pinky, how are you—?!?

“I’m a cement deer! Ah hah!”

PINKY, STOP, YOU’RE SCARING ME! D:

“Oh, I’m one of the seven dwarves, Brain!”

That’s more acceptable but Pinky, sweetie, warn me if you’re going to nightmarishly shapeshift again, okay?!

I guess we can add that to the list of random abilities Pinky has.

“Stop it, Pinky, or I shall have to hurt you.”

You are much calmer about this than I would be if this happened in front of me, Brain.

“Oh. Right-o, Brain. Narf.”

“Now let us make haste, for we have much to do before the race begins.”

“Poit.”

So then we cut to Churchill Downs, and I can only assume another roadtrip adventure was had off-screen.

“First, Pinky, we must visit the stables.”

“Inside, we will find the winning horse.”

“Err… How are we gonna do that, Brain?”

“The racing form, Pinky.”

My bet’s on... [squints] hLUUNO the horse.

“By analysing the velocity-based pace line, mile turf win and bayer speed figures, we’ll find a grade one stakes claimer who’ll give us a key horse situation.”

“Key Horse Situation” would be a great band name. Also, whoops, little bit of an error on the name plaques, background artists.

What do your mouse eyes see, Pinky?

“Err, can’t we just ride the pretty one?”

SHE!

So here she is, one of the few characters debuting in the Animaniacs run that will matter to PatB lore going forward aside from our main duo.

A fun fact for you all: Phar Fignewton’s name is a triple reference joke. “Phar Lap” was a champion thoroughbred race horse in the late 1920s and early 1930s. Fig Newtons are small pastries filled with fig paste. Lastly, “Fahrvergnügen” was a slogan for Volkswagon starting in 1990. Translated, it means “driving enjoyment”.

Phar Fignewton makes a whinnying noise and ends it off with a goofy laugh.

Brain is not impressed.

“Heavens, they’re multiplying…”

Pinky is instantly smitten with her.

BONK!

“This is a business trip, Pinky!”

“Oh. Right. Sorry, Brain.”

“Here is our horse.”

“’Daddy’s Little Angel’…”

I guess it’s an ironic nickname.

“Pinky… Are you pondering what I’m pondering?”

“Whu… I think so, Brain, isn’t Regis Philbin already married?”

…

Now I’m wondering if Pinky is suggesting that one of them marry Regis or if he’s suggesting that Regis marries the horse. Either way, what the fuck?

Yeah, same.

“The race, Pinky. By combining the statistics and my low body weight, this horse cannot lose! The prize money will be ours!”

GAH! Brain, I’ve had enough minor heart attacks from this episode because of Pinky’s eldritch morphing ability, I don’t need another one of your bizarre close-ups to do the same!

“Now I must take the place of the real jockey.”

“Hello?”

“Is this the Jockey who’s going to ride ‘Daddy’s Little Angel’?”

“Yeah.”

“This is Ed Mcmahon from Publisher’s Smearing House. You’ve just won ten million dollars.”

Pinky delightedly and silently listening in and chuckling in the back is precious.

And honestly, Brain, I don’t know why you’re crouching here, but it’s also cute.

“I won ten million dollars… I WON TEN MILLION DOLLARS! I am outta here! Later!”

The mice are lucky that he’s so excited about winning all that money that he forgets to do basic things like ask when and how he’ll get the money.

“Louie! Louie!”

“Later!”

“Who’s gonna ride my horse? I mean, Louie is the smallest, lightest jockey in the entire world!”

Did you know that there’s a weight requirement for jockeys, but no height requirement?

“Not anymore!”

“[GASP]”

Whoops, I just noticed another error, though it’s minor: Brain’s jockey outfit throughout this scene is light tan and purple instead of the pea green and purple that it’s supposed to be.

“You’re a jockey?!”

“Actually, I am a mouse in the early stages of an elaborate scheme to take over the world.”

The more this happens, the more I’m starting to think that Brain does this shtick on purpose to emotionally and mentally disarm people who would otherwise suspect that he’s not human. The fact that it works shows you just how idiotic the human beings of this world are.

“Well, fine, we all need a hobby but…will you ride my horse?”

Oh, sir, I think it’s much more than a hobby at this point. If only you knew…

“I shall ride! And win!”

His design is a little odd here, but it’s still a good pose.

So Brain next has to be weighed to make sure he meets the requirements.

“Saddle: Seven pounds. Saddle and rider: Seven pounds 3 ounces.”

So if you can recall from the previous rewatch post, a house mouse on average weighs 19g, and a common wood mouse weighs 23g (it can be up for debate which type of mouse Brain is).  Converting Brain’s 3 ounces of weight to grams would result in him weighing 85.0486g.

Brain does have a bit of a cute little potbelly thing going on, but he’s also consistently much smaller in height and width than the average adult mouse in the series. I think the incredible difference in weight is mostly coming from the heft of Brain’s, well, brain and skull…and the muscle mass packed into that tiny body to help keep him upright.

“A genetically perfect jockey! This is fantastic!”

Please don’t phrase it like that.

“…Let’s look into early retirement.”

That jockey on the left is going through some shit, man. He looks like how I feel after working an eight hour shift on the holidays.

And so we skip to the beginning of the race!

That poor, poor jockey…who changed colour schemes for some reason.

There’s Phar Fignewton with a jockey who honestly looks like he’s high.

And here’s our little mousey fella, who has somehow managed to make this aggressive horse obedient.

“Camptown race is five miles long, do-dah, do-dah.~”

He’s so happy he’s singing to himself! This is honestly so precious that I completely forgive him for not getting the lyrics correct.

Coincidentally, Daddy’s Little Angel is positioned next to Phar Fignewton.

“Ooh, isn’t this exciting, Brain?”

Uh oh.

“Pinky, what are you doing here? Your weight will disrupt my winning calculations!”

I don’t know if it’d be that off, Brain. The combined weight of two mice is still much less than that of a human jockey.

“But Brain, it’s too exciting! I—“

[TARGET LOCKED]

“Oooh! Heh. Hello.~”

I think I’m going to save my thoughts on this whole…thing until the end. Right now I will say, however, that I wasn’t quite expecting the tongue-hanging-out-of-gaping-mouth lovestruck/horny??? reaction.

“Pinky, the race is starting!”

Too late, Brain.

And we’re off!

Bye, Pinky.

“There’s baloney in our slacks…~”

Pfft.

So as the race goes on, we get to know a few more of the horses’ names: Isle of Yap (a nice callback to the first PatB short), Flamiel (which is apparently the WB writers’ favourite word?), and Leggo-my-Egoiste (a double reference to an old Eggo slogan and the name of a cologne).

The other jockeys are more than a little surprised by Brain and his steed taking the lead early in the race.

Phar Fignewton is trailing way behind.

Meanwhile, Pinky’s woken up from fainting, seeing the oncoming horses—

--and promptly freaks out and stumbles back down again.

“Victory, she waits for me! Oh, the do-dah-day!”

You really have to stop tempting fate like this, Brain.

Phar Fignewton’s very tired, but what’s this?

Is that…Pinky in harm’s way?

ThePowerOfLove.mp3

Determined and fueled by her inexplicable crush, Phar Fignewton starts gaining ground on the other horses.

Brain didn’t calculate for this!

…Oh! Hi, Warners! Looks like they’re cheering Phar on.

“Oh no! Yah! Yah! Yah!”

I didn’t think whips were allowed in races like the Kentucky Derby, but apparently they are. Their use was only restricted—not banned—in the summer of 2020, which is alarming to say the least.

On a different note, I know some of you folks are now jotting down the fact that Brain knows how to use a whip. I see you.

She makes the save!

And she also wins the race! Way to go, Phar Fignewton!

“In the words of the great Willie Shoemaker: ‘Nuts!’”

It was a good try, Brain, but honestly I’m glad you failed this time if only so that you wouldn’t embarrass yourself with your actual world domination plan’s failure later. Maybe take a couple nights off to rest up a bit and formulate plans that aren’t totally bonkers, hmm?

I might as well go ahead and talk about this now. I…am conflicted on this whole Phar Fignewton thing. It makes for a very strange one-off joke about Pinky instantly falling in love with a distaff counterpart of his that’s a horse for whatever reason…but the fact that she’s not a one-off character is baffling in and of itself. Like I’ve said before, she’s mentioned a couple of times going forward as being Pinky’s girlfriend, or as a bizarre joke at Pinky’s expense about him being in/having been in a relationship with a horse. There’s even a small running gag about Pinky’s reaction to people’s disgust about it: “People can be so intolerant!”. I don’t know if the joke is supposed to be one about racial segregation or a wink and nod to queer folks in the only way that the writers could get away with in a cartoon at the time (in a “see, Pinky’s down for a relationship with anyone, even outside of his species!” type of way).

Phar Fignewton herself is a sweetie but besides that she has no personality to speak of and we’re just meant to assume based on physical appearance that she is equivalent to Pinky. And like, she hasn’t been uplifted to human levels of intelligence and sapience like Pinky has because of Acme Labs, but she seems to be naturally sapient for some unknown reason and just simply unable to speak English.

On top of all this, the relationship is very shallow and the only reason we’re given as to why Pinky likes her is because he finds her pretty. It’s perfectly in character for Pinky to easily fall in love, as he does so with other animals a couple more times in the spin-offs, but it just feels weird that this is the one that sticks around purely to become a running gag that gets mentions that are sometimes literal years apart from one another.

And listen, I know the writers most likely made this a thing just because they thought it was a funny joke and a few of them managed to remember about Phar and would use Pinky dating her as a gag. I know this. But it doesn’t make it any less confusing and weird. I remember the jokes about Pinky and horses from way back when I first watched Animaniacs and the PatB spin-off when I was a kid and I never had any context for it because I don’t think I ever saw this specific episode. Coming back as an adult and seeing all these episodes in order and watching this one in particular and finding out the context is “Pinky thinks a horse is pretty and the horse and him are in love and long-distance dating now” is both underwhelming and leaves me with more questions than answers.

…Also, if my earlier theories on why the writers made this joke are correct, does this mean Phar Fignewton is metatextually a beard for Pinky?

I just don’t know, folks. You’re welcome to leave your thoughts on this in comments.

Let’s wrap this up.

So as we can see, Brain is, as usual, back to work on another plan that involves—

—a goddamn cannon, holy shit! What is he using the glue for? That’s a little ominous, given what’s been involved in this episode.

There’s a hammering noise in the background and we see Pinky putting up a photo of Phar Fignewton.

“Pinky, will you please stop that? I’m trying to concentrate on tomorrow night!”

Wow, you’re more irritable than usual, Brain. I didn’t think some delicate hammering would annoy you that much.

“Mwah!~”

…Despite my ramblings earlier, that’s very cute of you, Pinky. I’m sure you could’ve gotten a better photo, though.

“Why, Brain, what’re we gonna do tomorrow night?”

Try to take over the world, of course! Right, Brain?

“Guess.”

…

Umm, wow. That’s a first. You look like you’re absolutely enraged, Brain. All this over some hammering sounds?

This had me taken aback a bit when I watched it the first time, not gonna lie. We’ve seen Brain after a plan’s failure plenty of times before. He’s been frustrated, sure. Humiliated at times, or maybe he just sighs in resignation and walks off into the sunset. It always ends with him simply using these feelings to fuel the fire in him to do better tomorrow night.

This is the very first time we’ve seen him jumpy and irritated at the most minor of things and so angry that he literally refuses to participate normally in his and Pinky’s shared catchphrase. And this was for a plan that was just to fund the real plan! So why is this time any different?

Oh.

OH.

Okay, that’s… That makes a lot of sense, actually. Damn.

Hey, fanfic writers? Ya’ll ever use this as the very first time Brain experiences romantic jealousy? Let me know.

“Oh yeah, try to take over the world. Right.”

I think even Pinky’s put off by this development, if his hesitant and quiet finishing of the saying is anything to go by.

And that’s what we end off with.

All in all, this episode is a wild ride of strangeness in small moments and bizarre additions to lore and ends on the first subversion of the long-running closing gag of the series. It’s not exactly a great episode, but that ending is intriguing enough for one of the main purposes of this rewatch. In short, I’m just baffled.

Luckily the next episode is much better. Next time, the mice head on down to Tennessee to seek world domination via country music.

See you then!

#Pinky and the Brain #PatB #Jockey For Position

[tiffdawg]

Curriculum Vitae: Chapter Three

Gif: @javier-pena

curriculum vitae noun cur·ric·u·la vi·tae Latin. the course of one's life.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 3.1k

Rated: M  | Warnings: Intense gazing. Mild language.

Chapter Summary: In this chapter, you start to see a different side to Javier Peña as he struggles to adjust to academia.

A/N: Thank you for your comments and support on the last chapter! I'm so excited that someone is actually enjoying this story and I hope you know that literally every comment takes me out for twenty minutes because they make me so stupidly happy. I love you all!

Read on AO3

CV Masterlist | My Masterlist

… . …

Chapter Three

When you entered your lecture hall on Wednesday morning, once again affording Peña plenty of time to clear out, the scene from Monday repeated itself almost verbatim. He was at the podium, shoulders slightly hunched and hands grasping either side of the cherry wood, surrounded by an excited crowd of students. You’d hoped you would miss him entirely – especially after what had happened in the library – but it seemed luck was not on your side. So, you sipped idly at the lukewarm remnants in your cardboard coffee cup, figuring you might as well watch the show. Speaking sure as hell never seemed to work well for the two of you.

The only difference was that this time, he noticed you right away. You suddenly felt self-conscious in your simple black trousers and modest blouse under his intense scrutiny, and you wondered what he was looking for as he stared at you for just a moment too long. You half-expected him to make some caustic remark. While neither of you had been particularly kind to the other the night before, you probably would’ve deserved it. His words had stung, but it was nothing you hadn’t heard a hundred times before. While you didn’t exactly regret anything you had said, you did wonder if you might’ve struck too deep a nerve. Instead, he turned to his students and told them to talk to him during his office hours.

“When are your office hours, sir?” a young man asked, the same overeager student from Monday.

“I’ll let you know as soon as I know,” he said dismissively, scratching his brow. With that, the students started to wander off and you parted the sea of stragglers to get to the chalkboard. You intended to use it for your lecture and there was a scrawling mess of some Cyrillic language, no doubt not from Peña’s class. However, he beat you to the eraser.

“I’ve got this, doctora.”

You actually felt your head tilt to the side and it strangely reminded you of the way Sunny cocked her head when you spoke to her. Like she recognized your voice, heard your words, but didn’t understand the language. His kindness surprised you and you weren’t sure if he was taunting you with his new diminutive of choice or attempting to apologize in his own strange way. At least doctora was accurate, and it was a hell of a lot better than sweetheart. “Thanks,” you offered hesitantly, “I think.”

When he finished erasing the first panel and moved to the second, you picked up a scrap of chalk and started writing a list of key terms and important names you didn’t want to have to bother with during your lecture. All the while, you hated the way your eyes kept casting to the side, stealing unintentional glances at Peña. Your hand idled as you lost your focus in favor examining the way he moved even as he did something as simple and mundane as clear a chalkboard. But, as ridiculous as it was, you found that you were unable to stop yourself from watching the pull of his light gray suit jacket around his body or the clap of his hands as he attempted to remove the chalk dust.

And in your folly, he caught you.

He smirked at you as he adjusted his boldly pattern tie that should’ve been left in the previous decade and you turned back to your vocabulary list with warm cheeks and added the last few letters to the word you’d abandoned. Then, just as you thought he was about to leave, he took a seat in the last row.

To say you were confused would’ve been an understatement. Bewildered or baffled might’ve been more apt descriptors, but even those words seemed lacking. Deciding not to let Javier Peña distract you from your job any more than he already had that morning, you pulled out your lecture notes and focused on what really mattered: your class and your students. Not the man intently watching your every move.

… . …

Apparently, even visiting lecturers had to attend the weekly Thursday morning faculty meeting.

As Javier sat at the furthest end of the conference room table, only half listening to the department chair drone on about the new graduation requirements for undergraduate sociology majors and minors, he seriously debated the necessity of his presence. Dr. Campbell, as he’d quickly learned the first time that he spoke with the man over the phone a few weeks ago, had a preference for five-dollar words and loved the sound of his own voice. It was amazing he was as long-winded as he was considering the tightness of the obnoxious canary yellow bow tie around his neck. Javier pulled at his own tie, already loose and askew, suddenly feeling constricted by it. Aside from the fact that Campbell’s rundown on the new procedures seemed unnecessary –the regular faculty looked like they’d heard this news a thousand times already – Javier knew he had very little function beyond drawing attention to the school of social sciences. Sure, he technically had to teach a handful of classes this year, which was itself a task proving even more difficult than he’d originally anticipated. But, at the end of the day, he was only there because of his reputation and to lend his name to the university. He only hoped that no one expected much more than that from him.

They’d only be disappointed.

He glanced down the table to where you sat taking occasional notes in between drawing something in the corner of your notebook. He wasn’t sure how, but you’d taken one look at him and figured him out. 

You don’t deserve to be here.

Your words from the other night echoed in his mind. While everyone else seemed intent on showering him with empty flattery and undue praise, you saw him for what he really was. And you were right. He definitely didn’t feel like he deserved to teach classes at a prestigious university, to hold any sort of position of prominence or power at an institution like this. He’d retired from the DEA, given up the only job he knew how to do, without any inclination of what he would do next. Accepting this job was nothing short of an unhappy accident that was the result of some sort of second-career-meets-midlife-crisis impasse. Come to think of it, he might’ve been drinking when he called Dr. Campbell and accepted his offer.

“I’ve but one final announcement before I release you all for the day. As is tradition, the planning this year’s student conference will fall to two of our youngest and brightest professors, so it should be no surprise which of you will assume the responsibility.” Campbell finally caught Javier’s attention when he gestured down the length of the table to you. You smiled brightly at the department chair and the rest of your coworkers. “You, my dear, have done a brilliant job in the past and I expect nothing less this year. And I’m sure our newest appointed professor, Dr. Sheffield, will be more than happy to assist and learn from you.”

“Fucking ecstatic,” the man next to him grumbled under his breath. He followed the man’s gaze back to you and watched your smile vanish. Looking back at Sheffield, he noted that he was younger than Javier, although not by much, and sturdily built but soft around the middle. His belt seemed to be cinched one notch too many. Definitely a beer drinker. There was something inherently boorish about the man and although he hadn’t noticed him until that exact moment, Javier decided that he didn’t like him.

“I’ll have Debra set up a meeting for the three of us sometime next week to discuss the issue further,” Campbell added, “And with that said I think we can consider this meeting adjourned. I do believe the Anthropology department has reserved the room for the upcoming hour, so we best leave them to it.” 

The other faculty and staff started filing out of the conference room, but evidently Sheffield felt Javier’s stare. He turned to him and offered a hand.

“Javier Peña, I presume.” The way he mispronounced his name was almost embarrassing. “Been looking forward to meeting you all week.”

“What an honor,” Javier drawled, shaking the sweaty proffered hand. 

“I’m Andrew Sheffield.” 

“I gathered that.”

Seemingly oblivious to his curt responses, Sheffield continued. “Let me know if you ever need anything, man. And, if you’re into it, a couple of buddies of mine from the other departments golf on Sundays. You’re always welcome.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” Javier responded, knowing he’d wouldn’t go golfing if his life depended on it, let alone with this guy.

“Cool, and like I said, happy to help.”

“You didn’t seem so happy to help your other colleague a minute ago.” He couldn’t stop himself. He’d been talking to Sheffield for all of a minute and he was already on his last nerve.

“Well, I, uh– I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sheffield stumbled, clearly flustered, “Besides, that’s different. She’s, well, you’ll see.”

“I’m sure,” Javier said, gathering his things and pushing back his chair. He slapped Sheffield’s shoulder, maybe a little harder than strictly necessary. “See you around, bud.”

… . …

By Friday, your hectic first week of the quarter had caught up to you. You were more than a little tired and couldn’t wait for the weekend. Still, you put on a smile as you prepared to start your lecture. You’d made a vow to yourself years ago that you would never become that jaded, joyless professor that made student’s lives miserable. It was for your own benefit as much as theirs.

You knew Peña didn’t have a class on Fridays – the lecture hall had been empty when you arrived that morning – so you were more than a little surprised when he showed up for your class. Just when you thought you weren’t going to have to deal with him that day, he quietly slipped into the back row.

You couldn’t escape the man.

At the same time, as much as you hated to admit it, you’d been looking for him everywhere you went on campus ever since your Wednesday lecture. His actions confounded you – you were sure he hated you after that night in the library, but yet, here he was attending your class again. For what reason? You had no clue.

Deciding it would be best to simply overlook Javier’s presence in your classroom, you started your lecture. However, you quickly discovered he was impossible to ignore. Especially considering the way his dark eyes trailed you, followed your every movement. It didn’t matter that he was sitting in the back of the room. You could feel him watching you.

It should’ve been annoying. Aggravating, even. 

But it was something else entirely. Something that ignited a slow, steady heat inside of you. Something you steadfastly refused to name.

Once again, he didn’t wait for you after your lecture, and you weren’t sure why that disappointed you.

… . …

“How was your anniversary?”

“It was actually really fun. We got a sitter and Henry took me to this fancy restaurant downtown he’d been to on business lunches. He’d mentioned wanting to take me before, but I was still surprised that he’d actually made a reservation on his own,” Beverly explained, forgetting all about her chicken salad, “I’m sure you can understand why – you’ve met my husband.”

The two of you were sitting at your usual bench near an especially green spot on campus. The shade of a beautifully overgrown Moreton bay fig tree shielded you from the bright sun and your feet rested against a sprawling root creeping under the bench. “That’s so romantic of him,” you gushed. You sighed dreamily, playing it up for her benefit.

“I know! I don’t think we’ve had a night out like that since our youngest was born. So, what? Two years ago!” She made an exaggerated exasperated expression and you snickered at her. “I didn’t know the man had it in him. But it was very swanky, and they had these little chocolate cakes that, like, oozed more chocolate when you cut into them. Apparently, that’s the new thing but I never get out so I’m behind on the times.” 

“Don’t feel bad,” you said as you stabbed at your container of sliced fruit, “I haven’t been on a date in months so I’m right there with you on that one.”

“We gotta fix that.” Bev nudged you playfully.

You made a discouraging face and shook your head. “No, thank you. I’ve got plenty to worry about right now without having to deal with a relationship.”

“Doesn’t have to be a relationship,” she countered in a singsong voice. 

“You really can’t be stopped, can you?” you asked with an amused laugh. She shook her head and took another bite of her lunch. “Relationship or not, dating is just too complicated. It’s too distracting.” 

“Maybe,” Bev conceded, “But there’s more to life than work, sweetie. As much as I complain about Henry, I really do love the man. And he loves me. That’s something special. I can’t help but want something like that for you too.” You loved Beverly, but sometimes you hated how perceptive she was. Without ever having to voice your own thoughts or desires – sometimes without even admitting them to yourself – she always saw the truth to your words. Work always came first for you. Often at the disadvantage of the rest of your life. When you were quiet for longer than she would’ve liked, she lightened the conversation. “Of course, whoever your person is, would have to be someone as equally spectacular as you, so it might take a while to find them. But we’ll work on it.”

You returned her soft smile with one of your own. “We’ll see. But I’m not sure that person is out there, so don’t hold your breath.” You held out your plastic container. “Cantaloupe?”

“You know that’s my favorite,” she laughed as she skewered a few slices for herself.

… . …

After your lecture and lunch with Bev, you walked home to pick up Sunny before returning to your office. Friday afternoons were usually quiet on campus as students and professors alike preferred not to schedule classes that day of the week, for obvious reasons. You still had quite a bit of work to do before you were free to enjoy the weekend and your dog made for good company. Sunny was small and quiet enough that no one ever noticed her when you snuck her into the office. She was a mild-mannered dog, and that day she alternated between sleeping on your lap and watching birds and students alike from the window while you made a decent dent in the pile of work you had to get through. 

She was as well behaved as always, but, unsurprisingly, a couple hours later she started to get restless and you took that as your cue to call it a night.

“Alright, let’s go home, girl,” you said to her as you gathered your things. You piled a few books into your tote, wavering for a moment on one particularly heavy tome you weren’t sure you wanted to haul back to your apartment before you tossed that one in too. You slide your flats back on, having had kicked them off while you worked, and reached for the door. As soon as it was open wide enough for Sunny to fit through, she sprinted out ahead of you.

“Shit!” you hissed taking off after her. She’d never done that before. “Get back here!”

Your eyes practically popped out of your head as she darted into an open office.

You burst into your colleague’s office, intent on dragging her out of there while apologizing profusely. Instead you froze at the sight before you. Sunny was perched on Javier Peña’s lap. To make matters worse, the devious little traitor was excitedly licking his face as he petted her, soothing her fur with a gentle hand. What was even more surprising than her wagging tail, was the goofy grin on his face. It was the kind of unrestrained smile that crinkled his eyes and made him look younger than his years. It was, for lack of a better word, charming.

“I take it this is your dog?” he asked, breaking you from your trance.

“Yeah,” you answered, shaking your head at the scene, “She– She really seems to like you,” you observed, not bothering to hide your confoundment.

“I can tell.” Sunny calmed down, panting happily as Peña scratched behind her perky ears. “At least one of you does,” he said, finally training his brown eyes on you.

“Eh, she likes everyone. Don’t read too much into it,” you said, shrugging off his insinuation. And it was true for the most part. Sunny was a friendly dog, but she did have a strong intuition when it came to people’s sense of character and she always knew who she didn’t like. Even you had to admit she was quite taken with Peña.

“What kind of dog is she?” he asked, turning his attention back to the dog on his lap.

“My best guess is some kind of border collie mix. All I know is Sunny is not a purebred and a bit of a runt, which is probably how she ended up on the street in the first place.”

“Sunny?” he said, cocking his head at you.

You huffed out a small laugh. “I found her on Sunset Boulevard. So, in a moment of sheer genius I called her Sunny as a temporary name before I found her owners or a new family to take her in,” you explained, “Turned out I was her new family and the next thing I knew she was responding to the name. It stuck.”

“She’s sweet. I’ve always liked dogs,” he said, quirking his brow as he looked up at you again, “You can trust their judgement.”

Pursing your lips, you made a noncommittal noise, not wanting to agree despite feeling the same way. With a final wet kiss to his cheek, Sunny hopped down from his lap and trotted over to your side, acting the part of the loyal pet. You glared at her as you quickly attached her lead to her collar, ensuring she wouldn’t cause any more trouble. She’d already provoked the first civil conversation between you and Peña – who knew what else she was capable of. You decided it was best if you took your leave before she caused another miracle. “Have a nice weekend, Peña.”

“You too, doctora,” he said with a smirk and a wink.

 ... . ...

Thank you for reading!

... . ...

Forever Tags: @leo-moon​ @readsalot73​ @frietiemeloen​ @huliabitch​

Curriculum Vitae Tags: @softpedropascal​ @roxypeanut​

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier pena x you #javier peña imagines #narcos #narcos fanfic #fic: curriculum vitae #hey look! they're actually being nice to each other for once

[littlesliceofmarvel]

Manipulating a God | chpt. four

Synopsis: Trying to break the information out of Loki during the attack of 2012 wasn’t exactly the easiest task, but it was a challenge you were willing to take head on. So, what happened when a master manipulator tried to get information from the God of Mischief?

Series warnings: Swearing, mentions of violence, blood and gore

Pairings: Stark!Reader x Loki

A/N: sooooo. i am sooooo sorry it has been so long. there have been many personal/school/work issues the past few weeks and i have neglected this. :( But, I am back and very excited to continue. So, i hope you all enjoy and thanks sososo much for you patience i love you all. xoxoxoxoxo

-

Since agreeing to the case of investigating Loki, the entire team had been throwing tidbits and important information your way any chance they could get.  You told them you were listening, jotting down everything in your mental notepad, but honestly, you were more confident about the whole thing than they thought. Thor was the only one who seemed to believe you could handle it yourself. Of course, he didn’t view Loki as a murderer the same way everyone else did, but he was also the one who really knew what Loki was capable of.

Thor told you a lot about Loki’s history and childhood; a frost giant, taken in by Odin, given the impression that he could eventually rule, living in incredible self-doubt, all that jazz. Small, personal things you hadn’t found on Google. You debated questioning him about the whole ‘Loki fucking a giant wolf’ thing but figured that that wasn’t information you needed - nor wanted - to know.

Tony on the other hand wanted to stop you as best as he could. He even tried locking you in your room once or twice (or five times.) Of course, he was fully on board with dragging Loki through verbal (and probably physical) Hell to get information that was desired, but he was worried you would fall victim to his lies and lose your mind, and in his words ‘have a Joker-like descent into madness.’

You couldn’t say you had the same vision, but we all know Tony can be quite the drama queen.

Steve, who you now trusted more than you thought you could, told you he’d be there for you if ever you needed help. Apparently being a part of the second World War could help this situation, so he offered you some strange advice on how to hold your ground. Your favorite, for example, was; “if ever he tells you he’s going to be a wonderful ruler, don’t trust him, Hitler said the same.” Steve had good intentions, sure, but his constant reminiscing made you feel as if you were a child listening to their grandfather speak about how ‘getting to school was so much harder in my day.’

Natasha, who was quite trained in the field of manipulation as well, gave you some tips she learnt in her mysterious past - some of which you already knew. Always form a connection. Listen to them. Don’t put them down if you want them to trust you. Simple things that worked wonders. Things you had used before, mostly on Tony, but they worked either way. 

Sure, Loki was of another world, and he was the infamous God of Mischief. So, he had an obvious advantage over you, and you’d admit, a part of you was worried that he wouldn’t fall for you tactics and eventually be the one to drag you down to the deep dark depths. But, you were willing to take this challenge head on and nothing was going to stop you. For now, at least. If ever Loki dug his claws into your lungs to the point where you were gasping for breath and surrender was the only option, you’d opt out. But your goal was to not let it get to that point.

You hadn’t actually gotten the chance to speak one on one with Loki since his capturing, but Fury gave you a rundown of his so-called ‘prison’ chamber to ensure your safety. Which button to press if Loki went ballistic, where the security cameras were hidden out, which button to press to drop the cage - the basics. He also told you there’d always be someone listening in at all times, so if ever there was danger and you somehow didn’t sense it, you wouldn’t be alone.

But finally, today was your first day in getting to start breaking him down, and a part of you was slightly looking forward to it. On the countless times you had used your manipulative tactics to gain information from people in order to save your slightly self-sacrifical brother, none of it felt like it was up to the standard of actually being of worldly, even grave importance. The information you were trying to get from this guy was going to be do-or-die, and the sadistic side of you was slightly exhilarated at the thought.

“Alright, Y/N, are you ready to start? Remember, I’ll be watching everything,” Fury warned as if you were his daughter and about to go hang out with someone of the opposite sex for the first time.

“Yes, dad, I know you’ll be watching,” you reassured him, following him into the room where Loki was being kept, the loud thud of your overly-eager footsteps startling the man at the computer when you entered the room.

The dark, circular room was surrounding by computers, machines, pipes, wires, anything technological that you could think of. The only light source, though, seemed to be coming from the glowing white cage in the center of the room. The overwhelming scent of metal was almost aggressively jabbing at your nostrils, but you weren’t too affected - this is what Tony usually smells like after his Iron Man expeditions. You eventually turned your attention to the man standing in the center of the room.

When your eyes landed on him, you ended up staring more than you wanted. He looked so much worse than the first time you saw him. His pale, white complexion looked almost green, the deep indent of his eyes and cheekbones resembled the deepest craters and the pale blue of his eyes dulled down to a lifeless grey. His hair was messier, the little points at the end no longer bouncy, almost looking discouraged. You know, if it were possible for hair to have that emotion.

Fury had dismissed himself quietly and walked back out the same door, leaving you and Loki glaring at each other. You could tell he was reading you the same way you were him. His long cloak stayed put on his shoulders, but somehow, it looked just as dead as the rest of him. 

“So, is this the best Fury has to offer?” His sultry voice spiked your ears, and you almost forgot you were here to actually speak to him, the staring contest feeling like it had lasted eight years. 

“If anything, I think I’m the best Fury has. Period.” You shrugged, eyeing the small metal chair placed in front of his cell. You slowly walked over to it, fully aware of the God’s undivided attention following your every move. 

He chuckled lowly at your comment as you sat down, “So, to what do I owe this insufferable thrill?” 

Insufferable thrill?

“I’d like to think of myself as an angelic pleasure, but whatever suits your fancy,” you replied, crossing your legs and leaning back against the cold metallic chair, brushing past Loki’s insult. 

Remember: don’t let him affect you.

“Why are you here?” He quipped, the teasing tone of his voice gone as he sat down in his cell, eyes boring into you as he searched for his answers.

Your mind thought up of something to justify your presence, “Uh - is it true you fucked a giant wolf?”

Smooth. Real smooth. 

“Where did you hear this?” He asked, slightly more amused than he had previously been. His lips formed upwards into a subtle smirk, slightly confirming your question which once again, you didn’t really want an answer to. 

“Never mind, uh, I actually have something serious I want to ask you,” you brushed past your initial awkward question, trying to set the tone that you were going to ask the questions around here and not the other way around. 

He raised his hand as if to say ‘go ahead,’ leading you to proceed with your so-called interrogation.

“What’s the interest in Earth?” You found yourself asking, out of both curiosity and in following with Fury’s plan. Loki leaned back against the glass, crossing his arms as he took in your question.

He seemed to ponder, “Have we not gone over the cockroach metaphor--”

“Yeah, yeah, we have,” you rolled your eyes, “but seriously, out of all the galaxies and planets that have life and resources, what is it with out little home that’s caught your specific attention?”

His face seemed to drop slightly as you said ‘your’ - almost as if referring to the attack as ‘his’ had somehow upset him. He looked down to the ground, uncrossing his arms before making eye contact once more.

“Earth has something - something very valuable, priceless, something we’ve been looking for.” 

If you didn’t know better, you’d think his tone was somewhat luring - as if he wanted you to ask for more information, but at the same time, wanted you to stay away from the details. It didn’t really make senseYou scanned him with your eyes once more. His body was slouched, showing vulnerability. If anything, this was way too easy. He had to be playing you somehow.

“What have we got that you want? Obama? Maybe some chicken wings?” 

Loki scoffed, “No, you dim-wit. Something much more valuable than some Earthling. Or  cheap food. Besides, your puny human brain wouldn’t be able to comprehend the power that I could find here.”

You made a mental note to bring that exact quote up to Fury later - the tone of Loki’s voice led you to believe there was subtext or some sort of hidden meaning that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. 

“And what is this ‘power’ you speak of? Spill the tea, Loki,” you responded, leaning forward in your chair to listen better. Sure, you could hear just fine from the previous position you were in, but your subconscious says otherwise.

“As if I’d tell you,” he rolled his eyes once more, “I know Fury’s sent you here just to get information from me, but it won’t work that easy, I know they’re all listening in.” A smirk made its way onto his lips as he caught onto your act.

You knew Loki would catch on to what you were doing eventually - I mean, you were here to get information, and that was obvious, but a part of you felt as if you had already failed your little quest and it hadn’t even been ten minutes. But honestly, what else was he supposed to think with you coming in here and asking questions? You were here to get information.

Struggling to find your next words, you started laughing. Loki raised an eyebrow in confusion, looking around to check if there was some sort of joke he hadn’t seen.

“Ha, you think that’s why I’m here? To just wait around and work with what you’ve got at your pace?” you toned down the laughter slightly, regaining your breath, “Please, we wouldn’t go through that much trouble, we just want you dead. Or gone. Fury’s already planned the ten thousand ways he could behead you. No, no, we’re not that desperate, nor are you that important. I’m here because once I get framed with murder for ripping you apart, I’ll be able to justify it.”

Loki’s smirk dropped, the amusement disappearing from his eyes, “What did you just say to me?”

Chuckling once more, you raised an eyebrow at him, “What? Don’t like it when someone talks back to you, Mister Hot-Shot?” you leaned back in the chair, “Get used to it.”

Loki let out a sassed-filled sigh, dropping his shoulders as if he had been scolded, and started to mumble what sounded like, “No, it was just unnecessary.”

Now it was your turn to scoff as Loki took offence, looking like a small child who had been denied cookies before dinner. Your amusement spiked at his behaviour, his avoidance of eye contact being the cherry on top. 

“You’re such a child,” you remarked, the unmissable pout disappearing from his lips, his eyes snapped back up to you as he stood up to defend himself.

“A child? Please, I’m over a thousand years old, have experienced wars, loss, have wrecked havoc - I have seen things your eyes can’t even begin to comprehend, and I am a God,” he was now right in front of you, of course separated by glass, but intimidating nonetheless, “Do not refer to me as a child--”

“You don’t have to be so touchy,” you smirked, standing up as well, “Sit down.”

Not used to taking commands, Loki blinked multiple times as he registered your words, practically discarding everything he just said about himself. Silently, he sat back down, leaving you to mentally swim around in victory.

“Now, here’s what’s going to happen, Loki,” you placed your hands behind your back (you felt like Fury) as you started to walk around the circular cell, Loki’s eyes glued to you, “You are going to tell me what’s going on. I don’t care how much you think your honour and God-liness is going to prevent that - I will eventually get the answers I’m looking for. Now, you can either cooperate and get yourself sent safely back to Asgard - or we can do this the hard way - and believe me, with a team of enhanced superheroes who have a lot of fucking built-up anger and long-lasting unresolved issues, I can’t see that as being fun for you. Unless, of course, you’ve got some sort of dark sadistic torture kink, that is.”

You had made your way around the whole cell by now and were standing by the door, Loki’s eyes still stuck on you like flex tape, his mouth slightly open. To say you were basking like a champion would be an understatement. You felt over the fucking moon right now, having left the God of Mischief speechless on your first day of your mission. His lips formed into a smirk once he caught up to what you had said. 

A small smirk formed on your lips too as you turned away, “Anyways, I need to go eat, my stomach’s been gurgling for a while now, so whenever I return, you can feel free to give me what I’m looking for. Have a lovely evening, Loki.”

You swayed in pride as you walked out of the room, Loki not uttering another word as you disappeared from his sight. Part of you felt as if you could have stuck around a little more to apply a bit more pressure, but at the same time, you didn’t want him thinking you were giving him all of your attention. He’d probably love that too much. 

Making your way back into the main control room, you noticed Tony, Steve, and Thor huddled around the table, probably having watched your encounter with the dark-haired man. Fury stood not far away, hands clasped behind his back, his eye on you as you entered the room.

“How’d I do on my first day, boss?” You asked, a small smile playing at your lips. Fury sighed, looking over to Tony who had now stood up.

“Well, you were only in there for twenty minutes, so it was short--” Fury began speaking until he was cut off by Tony’s obnoxiously loud voice.

“I didn’t realize how much of a badass you were, lil sis,” he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, leaning in to say the last part to you instead of yelling it to the whole room, “You make me proud.”

You chuckled, leaning in to his touch, “Gee, thanks big brother.”

“As I was saying,” Fury regained your attention, “It was short, but effective. You’ve left him thinking.”

Fury pointed to the screen which displayed the room you were just in. Loki was sitting in the same position, his eyes still glued to the door that you walked out of not five minutes ago, that damed smirk still on his lips.

“What can I say? I have that effect on men,” you smirked, a strange wave of confidence coming over you from who knows where. Fury groaned slightly, ignoring your comment. Tony played the exact same reaction.

“You’ve messed with his mind, that’s a good first step. But, you’re going to have to be more logical than emotional from now on. You got this.”

You grinned, patting Fury on the shoulder as you made your way to the small array of snacks on the table. You couldn’t lie, a part of you was left thinking about Loki too. You didn’t really like it, but at the same time, it helped you process what had just happened. You remembered the mental note you had made to yourself while talking to Loki, but figured you’d bring it up once your stomach got food. Fury’s ears were probably dealing with a lot right now since Maria just dragged him away, blabbing about some computer errors.

Thankfully, someone had brought out some food (finally) and you were grabbing just about everything you could - salad, crackers, cheese, whatever was in front of you. If this was what being aboard the helicarrier brought you, maybe you could live with it. 

For now, you continued to think about what you were going to go over with Loki tomorrow, and hoping that things would work out much better now that you stood your ground. 

You were proud of yourself too, in all honesty. Loki’s shock to your statement might have just been some sort of game, but at the same time, you had the guts to say it. That’s what mattered, and that’s what was important. 

Fury’s words echoed into your head as Tony started a conversation with Thor about how hotdogs weren’t sandwiches. 

You got this.

Damn right, you did.

Taglist 

[Message me to be added - if you’re in bold it means I somehow wasn’t able to tag you, apologies!]

@appleappleton @what-a-fantasy @the-girl-of-many-fandoms1414 @brighteyedmichelle @leasly @cassiopeia-barrow @jay-the-mothafuckin-gay @themusingsofmany @bambamwolf87 @thefandomzoneisdangerous @cyberskeletonhandsbat @ultracarpediemfan @vgirl-10123 @bangvateez @leximills666​ @littleredstarfish​ @blue-spider-official​ @what-a-fantasy​ @hello-lemons​ @yandereforyou​ @hippityhopitygetoffmyproperty​ @godhateskyleigh​

#loki #loki imagine #loki imagines #loki series #loki fanfic #loki fanfics #loki fanfiction #loki fanfictions #avengers imagine #avengers imagines #avengers fanfiction #avengers fanfic #avengers fanfictions #avengers fanfics #avengers series #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfics #loki x reader #loki one shot #loki one shots #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston imagines

[spacehologramcollection]

Request; The Kombat Krew and Pop Culture.

This is the fluff post for tonight. I am so tired, but I want to upload! This week has been really hard on me. But here we are. Some trash. A little NSFW in places, so to be sure. I’ve added a cut! 18+ under the cut.  GIFS do not belong to me. 

Kabal;

·         Vape nation represent. Kaballin. Got the spins? Ninja Mime 4 was bullshit!

·         Pop Culture is something he’s well versed in. He’s a fucking meme spouting shit lord. To be fair.

·         He’s seen Johnny’s movies. He invented the fucking drinking game for it. He’s fucking down to rip the shit out of them. Unless Tremor is about. Then he keeps his mouth shut.

·         If you like them, he will tease you about them. But not too much.

·         He doesn’t let on how much he’s into geek culture. Not to you straight away anyway. You kind of guess when you finally end up back at his apartment.

·         First time you go there, everything’s getting hot and heated, he’s got you up against the hallway wall. Before you stumble into the living room and see everything.

·         Neatest part of his apartment is his games and comic shelves.

·         He goes fucking red. Pretends its not his. He certainly doesn’t play WoW and troll people till 2 in the morning, in nothing but his underwear eating pizza. Those glasses aren’t his either.

·         He loves his geeky stuff. And hopes you’ll accept it.

·         When you start smiling and rifling through his collection, noting how its impressive, most impressive. He’ll start to smile and relax.

·         He explains his love for pop culture came from a need. He always wanted some of it growing up, but his family was poor. So, when he started earning money, he just bought everything his heart ever yearned for.

·         He’ll live for movie nights in as well. Like, bad movie night just consists of all of Johnny’s films. You both made a drinking game out of them, take a shot for every explosion that wasn’t needed, when there’s overacting, underacting, just some bullshittery. You both end up on your arse. Fucking slaughtered.

·         He loves music too. Like he loves indie music, but not the Smiths. He fucking cannot stand the smiths.

·         Oh yeah two words. Trashy Emo music. He knows the lyrics to ‘Check Yes Juliet’ and you cannot tell me otherwise.

·         Blurting out ‘Allstar’ whilst on a late-night drive. You trying not to laugh and also grabbing the wheel, as he does all the actions. You love it.

·         Reading comics in your pjs/underwear, laid out on his bed, at 2 Am in the morning. Discussing the latest theories, directions for the movies and debating who’s the best hero/ villain.

·         Is the type of dick to choose Rainbow Road on Mario Kart all the time.

·         Is actually good at the course.

·         Is loves vines as well. Whenever its time for him to tell a story, he will always start with some shit like, “There I was, BBQ Sauce on my tiddies”

·         Walking meme lord.

Sub Zero (Kuai Liang);

·         I’ve touched on this in his full smut fic but here we go.

·         He doesn’t have time to himself, and the rare time he gets, he does not wish to devote it to Popular Culture.

·         Kuai hasn’t had much exposure to popular culture, as he calls it. He will not refer to it as pop culture. I mean he calls movies, motion pictures in game. So yeah, the man is deprived.

·         The brief exposure has had, mainly stems from Johnny and Cassie. Cassie with her memes, snark and references. And the fact Johnny made him watch a few of his films.

·         That put him off pop culture for life… well sort of.

·         He does love reading fiction, so he has read Game of Thrones, The Witcher and Lord of The Rings. He loves fantasy. It allows him to be transported somewhere other than the temple.

·         Fiction was a crutch he used, though he won’t admit it’s a weakness. When he felt alone, isolated and just generally out of synch. He would read.

·         He claims its for relaxation purposes, because a good warrior is well rested and in the right mindset.

·         When he gets with you though, you’ll have to introduce him to stuff slowly. You don’t want to over-ride his system.

·         He ends up watching Lord of the Rings and he does enjoy it. Does not enjoy the Hobbit films though. He does love it.

·         He more loves watching a film, because you’ll always end up falling asleep on his chest. Your limbs tangled with his. And you looking so content.

·         He doesn’t get a lot of time to himself. But he does love to spend it with you. If you’re really into pop culture, then he will try and devote some time to it. He wants to share your interests after all.

·         Is an amazing Dungeon Master when it comes to sticking to the rules. He has a pretty decent campaign, but it takes him ages to craft it. His imagination has its limitations, because he’s trained it that way.

·         Comics and Games do not interest him overly. He’s not into them.

·         But he loves watching your eyes light up when you play/ talk about them. He loves the passion you have for them. It’s cute.

Scorpion (Hanzo Hasashi);

·         Like Kuai, the only exposure he’s ever had to pop culture is from Johnny, Cassie and Takeda. Takeda comes out with some absurd nonsense. Which leaves him staring at him. Shocked, confused and a little grumpy.

·         Johnny has made him watch some of his films, read screenplays and storyboards, in an attempt to turn the Shira Ryu into a fucking franchise.

·         All starring Grandmaster Grumpy face himself. But there’s a lot more nudity, can you fucking believe it, and there’s a mystical opossum that spreads wisdom.

·         Him and Kuai are very similar, in the fact they’ve both been put off it, but are willing to indulge in it. Because of you.

·         He’s more into movies. He actually would love some Inception, Shutter Island type bullshit. Complex plots that thrill. He wants to be kept occupied or he’ll get bored.

·         He’ll actually enjoy discussions at the end. What he liked, what he didn’t. What he thought he was stupid and if he’d watch it again or something similar.

·         Exploration into pop culture.

·         If you mention that a particular movies is your favourite, he cannot bring himself to say a bad word about it. So, he ends up growing to love it as much as you do.

·         He’ll love to joint read a book together. Then spend hours talking about it. Sleep often eludes him, so its nice that you’re awake with him.

·         Music is something he does enjoy, whilst he can see it as distracting, he also views it as a tool for relaxation. Just nothing too trashy. Do not expect him to serenade you with a rendition of ‘Tik Tok’ it’s not happening.

·         He prefers slower music, more chilled out, things to relax and unwind to.

·         He’ll on occasion, wrap his arms around your waist, holding you from behind. Before swaying gently to the music with you. Whispering sweet nothings in your ear. He loves it.

·         He’s not overly into Comics or videogames. BUT, he does have a soft spot for Star Wars. He doesn’t know why he likes it. But he loves him some Space-Bullshit. Happy the family drama isn’t about him. Loves it. Just don’t tell anyone yeah?

Raiden;

·         He’s very curious and willing to indulge in it. He knows of Popular Culture, he has seen many a Mortal enjoying it, using it as an escape mechanism. This is totally a dig at myself.

·         He’s never understood nor experienced it. But he is very curious, and his eyes are filled with wonder.

·         He’s read comics, played some games, watched some movies and read some fiction. He attributes all this exposure to you. You’ve really helped him explore it.

·         He loves to read comics however. He enjoys the art style, the worlds created and how much artistry goes into them.

·         He won’t admit the plots sometimes get him.

·         He loves to explore anything to do with Mortals and their customs. He thinks of it as educating himself.

·         He has seen some of Jonny’s movies, reluctantly. Once Johnny found out that you were introducing him to Pop Culture; he insisted on having some of his stuff in there.

·         Raiden is not impressed at all. He’s confused by Johnny’s films, he’ll sigh, and comment on how it explains a lot. It explains how one man can be such an idiot.

·         Imagine introducing Raiden to Mario Kart. He is so confused. You say its like driving a car, and he’s just like, what?

·         Once he gets the hang of it, he really gets into it. He’s fascinated and amazed at technology. He picks it up really quickly.

·         As far as music goes, he’s really open to listening to anything and everything. He would prefer more classical music. Anything that can help him relax.

Erron Black;

·         Before he went to Outworld, there wasn’t a lot in terms of Popular Culture. It was like 150 years ago.

·         So, when he finds out how much the world has changed, he has to admit he is very curious and is willing to explore it with you.

·         He would love to binge watch movies with you. Watching Westerns with him is always interesting. With him scoffing and pointing out inaccuracies or stating how fake their accents sound… even though they sound the exact same as his.

·         If you make a comment on Harrison Ford as Han, whilst watching Star Wars, he’ll raise an eyebrow and be smug. Because he knows damn well he has a resemblance to him. You cannot deny it. Do not @ me for this trash opinion.

·         ‘I wouldn’t be caught dead in that outift’ Of course you wouldn’t Erron, of course you fucking wouldn’t.

·         Tremor loves Johnny’s movies, and when its his turn for movie night, he always puts one on. Nobody is going to argue with him. So yeah, he’s seen a fuck ton of his movies. Kabal is always bored on his phone. Tremor is really excited and pointing out his favirote bits. Kira is not present, she’s got a date, and the sausage fest that is the Black Dragon rec room, is not on her list of things to do. Kano is probably passed out in a puddle of his own Piss I don’t know.

·         So, when you suggest watching Ninja Mime, he shudders and shakes his head. He’d do anything for you, but not that. Until you reveal that there’s a drinking game for it. Then he’s down.

·         He would love playing Red Dead Redemption. He fucking loves it. Brings back some memories. He’s impressed by it so much he can overlook some of the inaccuracies.

·         Looks after his Horse in RDR. Because he actually misses having a horse.

#Mortal Kombat #Mortal Kombat x reader #Kabal #Scorpion #Sub Zero #Erron #Raiden #Kuai Liang #Hanzo Hasashi #Kabal x reader #Scorpion x reader #Sub Zero x reader #Erron Black x reader #Raiden x reader #Kuai Liang x reader #Hanzo Hasashi x reader #Mortal Kombat 11 #Mk #Mk 11 #Mortal Kombat 11 x reader #Mk x reader #mk 11 x reader

[bangchanshehe]

The Orphanage pt.7

Growing up in an orphanage was hard, but when three men kidnap you as collateral, you find out that your life prior to being trapped in a house with twelve men was a piece of cake. Your loved ones were more corrupt than you thought and your enemies are closer than ever.

OT12 X OC

word count: 2.6k

The footsteps became closer and closer and in a moment of panic you quickly hid in the back of the tent in a place that was a little more unopen and covered by the marijuana. You knew that it was a long shot that someone wouldn’t notice you if they happened to take a good look around, but for now it was the only hope you had.

“yah! What the fuck are you fighting about?” a man walked in yelling

You peeked around and looked over his figure, but he was someone who you didn’t recognize. He seemed to be older than the two boys just based on his more mature manners and looks.

The boys immediately quit bickering and turned to face him with wide eyes, in complete horror and shock. Luhan turned his head slowly and scanned the place to look for you and make sure that you were somewhere safe.

“sorry, chen. We were just arguing about y/n. we both want her to sleep with us tonight” Luhan quickly explained

Chen scoffed at the two men and put a hand on his hip “why is everyone so fascinated with this chick?” he said mostly to himself “what is she like super hot or something?” he asked the two guys looking back and forth at them

Chanyeol too scared to talk just nodded his head really fast and luhan replied “something like that”

“god damn, it’s like another SeRa is here again.” Chen complained “if she ends up being anything like that slut was she’ll be gone in a two weeks tops”

You covered your mouth with your hand to stop yourself from making any noises that could be heard. Your mind went racing… who is SeRa? And what the fuck happened to her?

The boys chuckled at chen’s remark, playing along like everything was fine. Although everyone knew that things were going the exact opposite of fine.

“I don’t think she’s going to be another Sera” luhan said with a serious tone and yet a small smile on his face to make light of the awful situation

“I sure fucking hope so…” chen said shaking his head “otherwise she’ll be buried in the plot right next to that bitch’s tomb marker”

Chanyeol and Luhan both stayed quiet as chen laughed to himself. They didn’t know what to do or say anymore, because the worst that could be said was already out. Luhan grit his teeth and glared at the floor, he didn’t know how he was going to explain things to you to make things okay again.

He felt like he had finally established a level of safety with you so that you could trust him, and yet it was all shut down by this dumb fuck in the matter of a minute. He knew that you were very weary and skeptical already and just after you had seemed to have calmed down it was all blown away. But know you surely had millions of questions about what this whole conversation was about and you had a right to be curious and scared. Because honestly…. It was an awful story and he still had nightmares about what happened to her.

“alright, well you guys figure out what the hell you want to do but quit yelling! Some of us are actually trying to chill out and enjoy their day” chen said before he glared at the men and then made his exit out of the tent.

You let go of a heavy breath at the sound of the man leaving but you didn’t dare make a sound or move anymore. You had so many thoughts and concerns swarming through your mind but you didn’t know how to bring them up or validate any of your suspicions without possibly bringing up something that could get you into trouble. Your fear and worries had paralyzed you in the exact spot that you were in.

Chanyeol waited a moment to make sure that chen was really gone before he decided to approach you. But as soon as he saw you he knew that you were probably a little scared.

“Hey” he said softly as he got down on his knees to see eye to eye with you “its okay he’s gone now.”

Luhan watched from the sides as you brought your eyes up to meet Chanyeol’s and he felt a pang of guilt and jealousy. He knew that he needed to explain things to you before you had heard from anyone else what happened with SeRa. It was his fault that what had happened with her had become so extreme. But he was heart broken that he would possibly dissolve all trust and affections that you possibly had for him.

“I’m-… I’m… can we go back now?” you asked under your breath worried that your unease was peaking its head through your shaky voice

Chanyeol nodded his head and gave you an apologetic look. “lets go sweetheart”  

He held out his hand to you and you took it lightly, supporting most of your own weight up. Luhan stepped forward trying to help you up, but when your eyes met his, he paused in his place. He felt a chill go up his arms and he fell back on his weight. He knew that you were probably worried and the less contact was the best for now. So instead he watched silently, out of the way, as Chanyeol walked you out of the tent and snuck you back into the house.

Luhan didn’t want to follow because he didn’t want to have to explain to you what you had just witnessed. But his blood also went cold when he thought of someone else telling you about something that he knew would make you frightened. Especially since it had something to do with himself.

He sat down on the hard ground and looked up at the sky as he recalled what happened to SeRa so many years ago.

  Luhan always woke up to the smell of breakfast cooked every morning, with a smile on his face. He would get up and go downstairs like a hungry dog, following the smell with his nose, and smile when he finally found her frame wrapped up In an apron serving food to all of the boys. They would eat with messy hair and swollen faces, half-awake, but up to get a plate of food while it was still hot.

Luhan slid behind her and wrapped his arms around her torso, pecking the side of her neck and smiling as she giggled.

“good morning daddy lu” she cooed, making luhan inwardly groan at the name daddy

“good morning beautiful” he whispered back to her seductively

He didn’t know it at the time but Luhan and SeRa’s affections for one another were watched and envied by a few members. Some of them didn’t share the same affections with her and it stung when she didn’t reciprocate the same energy or feelings. Some found that as a challenge to treat her better to win the same love and some absolutely found it disgusting that she had favorites.

SeRa handed him a plate of breakfast and he sat down at the table and ate every grain of rice and every drop of soup. And she watched him with a content smile, like a proud mother.

 Looking back now luhan wished that he didn’t have those fond memories of her, or the shared smiles and jokes. They were precious memories and it only made her betrayal hurt even worse. If only he had never gotten close to her in the first place, then none of the troubles would have arose.

He didn’t know when it was exactly that she started to betray the boys. Maybe it was from the very beginning? He had asked himself time and time again. It was something that he hoped was the case. There was no way he could convince himself that she had betrayed them after she had become so close to them all.  

He could remember how her soft smile made her eyes shrink and the way her nose wrinkled up as she laughed.

“Was that only a few years ago?” he asked no one in particular

He hung his head low and sighed. He of course knew that what happened to her had to happen. Anyone who betrayed their brotherhood would get punished. Fortunately for her there was still some lingering affection left in the boys as they looked at her with anger in her final moments. Luckily she got somewhat of an easier and less painful death.

And thankfully for luhan he was too trashed and drugged to be able to hold is own during that time. He didn’t know what year or day it was let alone how to take care of himself, so how the fuck could he be preoccupied with worrying about SeRa.

All he did for six months straight afterwards was drink, smoke, do drugs, and beat the living shit out of people for fun. He wasn’t in his right mind and when he finally got himself sick enough that he was forced to get clean he didn’t want to know about what happened to SeRa or where she was buried. It was the only thing he could do for himself to keep him from visiting everyday and getting himself lost in the drugs again.

He picked his head up and looked at the entrance of the green house, debating if he wanted to go out and find you to tell you or wait for you to ask about it on your own time. He knew that he would need to be honest about it because it served not only as a warning for you but a warning for him as well. This time he couldn’t mess up and he would let himself fall for someone who is bound to be let go of in the long run.

He didn’t want to admit it to himself earlier, thinking that this time maybe he could make something work. But how long could you stay in a house with 12 men who were brutal, cold-blooded mafia men? How long would it take until someone got tired of having you around? How long would it be until the men fought with each other for your attention like they did with SeRa?

Surely the only ending to your being here would end up being the same way that all people come and go. You would have to be murdered. No one would let you outside of this house on your own after what you had seen and know.

  Chanyeol and you had finally made it into the house again and you shut the door just in time for Chen to come face to face with you. He eyed you up and down as he assessed your figure and looks.

“mmm, not bad” he said to himself, but loud enough that you could hear

Chanyeol scoffed and rolled his eyes, pulling you into the kitchen to get a bottle of water. He opened the fridge and handed one to you before pulling one out for himself.

“thanks” you said softly giving him a not so convincing smile

“look, about what you heard, it can very easily be explained. You have nothing to worry about.” Chanyeol tried to calm you down

You nodded your head and gave him a bit brighter smile. Chanyeol smiled back to you  before walking around you and sitting at the near counter top on a barstool. He took a swig of his water and then pat the seat next to himself. You quickly obliged and repeated his same actions by taking a drink of your own water.

“I have a request for you…” Chanyeol said in a nervous tone

You eyed him and creased your brows at how serious he had suddenly become. “okay…”

“if I give you some paint supplies can you paint something for me?” he asked

You eyed him for a moment and then smiled. He was being so serious over such a trivial request. You chuckled to yourself and then lightly smacked his arm. Chanyeol slightly jumped at your unexpected abuse and clutched his arm as if you had an iron fist.

“I thought it was something more serious!” you said through a laugh “I was scared for a moment!”

“You’re scared of me?!” Chanyeol said with shock and disbelief “I should be scared of you! You’re really hitting people now!”

“oh don’t pretend like it hurt!” you rolled your eyes with a smile

“but the others don’t know that!” he said wiggling his eyebrows “Sleep with me tonight or ill tell the hyungs that you were mean to me today” he compromised

Your jaw dropped and you looked at him in disbelief for a moment. You couldn’t believe that he would be using that as a joke right now.

“are you really using that against me right now?” you asked with a fake scowl and a small smile

Chanyeol didn’t respond verbally, but nodded his head instead. You looked at him for a moment and your eyes dropped to your hands. Two could play chanyeol’s little game.

“how about…. I sleep by myself tonight or I’ll tell minseok that you snuck me out of the house today” you said with a mischievous grin

It was chanyeol’s turn to drop his jaw and stare at you in amusement. He moved his mouth as if he wanted to protest, but then he closed his mouth. He repeated this process until he completely admit defeat and dropped the subject all together.

“but you’ve already slept with suho, minseok and napped with some of the others….” He pouted to himself

“ill do it” you said with a small smile and laughed when you saw Chanyeol immediately perk up and look at you with a large grin and wide eyes

“really?” he asked

You nodded your head and smiled when Chanyeol pumped his fist in victory

“but only on one condition…” you said as a sidebar

Chanyeol immediately deflated and turned to you with a sad look “you already said that you would do it, you can’t take it back now”

You shook your head and held up a finger “you have to do something for me first”

Chanyeol nodded his head quickly, agreeing to helping you despite not knowing what your condition was.

“I need to borrow some clothes. Mine are dirty and I would like to be a little more comfortable” you said

The boy smiled at how simple your request was and a moment later chuckled to himself with a blush dusted across his round cheeks. You eyed him confused as to why he was behaving this way.

“what?” you asked with a smile

“nothing, nothing” Chanyeol said brushing your inquiry off

“tell me” you said, tugging on the sleeves of this oversized shirt

He looked down at your small hands on his shirt and then up to you “I was just thinking about how huge my clothes would look on you” he said averting his eyes “it’d be like a dress”

You paused for a moment and thought about it. “you’re right, I’ll ask Luhan when he gets in”

Chanyeol immediately dropped his shy grin and gave you a dirty scowl “you can’t wear another man’s clothes in my bed. I wont allow it”

You gave him a side smile and nodded your head “okay, then I guess that yours will do”

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop angst #kpop mafia #kpop fanfic #kpop fan fiction #kpop mafia au #mafia aesthetic #exo #exo smut #exo scenario #exo mafia au #exo fan fic #exo fanfiction #suho #junmyeon #kai #chanyeol #chen #d.o. #lay #LuHan #kris #tao #xiumin fanfiction #sehun #EXO baekhyun #exo mafia #exo ot12

[ablamarka]

A fic where instead of Gretchen telling cady Reginas cheating on Aaron with Shane she reveals Reginas cheating with Janis

Hi, this was really fun to write, hope you enjoy!

Again, I *really* don’t know how the “read more” buttom work, sorry in advance.

“Every thursday she saysshe has SAT prep, but really, she’s hooking up with Janis Sarkisianin the North Shone Lion’s Costume.”

Gretchen revealed out ofbreath.

Cady’s eyes almost fell outof her face.

“She… She makes she wearthe costume?” Cady asked the first thing that came to her mind.

“No! They’re both in thecostume!”

Cady still couldn’t show anyreaction, how could the girl that has been guiding her through theperfect revenge is just hooking up with the Queen Bee? And how is theopenly homophobic Regina George hooking up with her former bestfriend and current enemy?

“HOW?”

“I still don’t understandthe logistics of it…” Gretchen said looking at the distance withpensive eyes.

“NO!” Cady squealed andgrabbed Gretchen by the arm bringing her to the closest girlbathroom, she asked for explanations but apparently the girl didn’treally cared about the subject. It was the weight of the gossip thatmatters, not really its content.

“I mean, you two are bestfriends now so it’s about time you know about this.” Gretchen justshrugged and re applied her lipstick to the mirror.

Cady’s mind went a thousandmiles per hour, and she couldn’t wait to see Janis after school andask her about this.

“You’ve been staring at mefor half an hour, are you having a stroke or something?” Janissuddenly asked stoping Damien’s rant about Gucci’s new pigcollection.

“Sorry.” she instantlyregretted apologizing, -she- wasn’t the one hiding a secret. At leastnot from Janis. “I just figured out how we’re getting rid ofAaron.” Janis and Damien immediately raised their eyebrows,interested.

“Oh, what did you findout?” Damien had a devious smile, but Cady’s eyes went straight toJanis, that suddenly looked a bit uncertain.

Cady wondered if it was theright thing to do, expose Janis like this. Like Regina had done toher before, but the needed to know. At the end, it could be just agossip Gretchen told her.

“Regina is cheating onShane.”

“What?” Damien lookedlike a child on Christmas. “This is everything! We just have to letAaron know about this and I’m sure they’ll break up.”

“Yeah… But, how did youfind out about this?” Janis asked carefully. “Regina told you?”her eyes narrowed.

“No… Gretchen did.”Cady said and, from the way they looked at each other, she knew itwas true. Janis look instantly fell and she took a deep breath.

Damien promptly started toplan their next step, he was more than excited that their revengewould finally be complete. First, because he would finally mess withRegina after she messed with Janis in middle school, but also becausehe just wanted this to be over and go back to spend his free timewatching rom-coms with Jan (even though she would never admit it).

Later that same night, asCady and Janis were walking home together, they couldn’t help buttalk about the tension between them.

“So… Are you okay withexposing Regina?” Cady asked already feeling the guilty of gettinginvolved in their lives.

“Sure.” Janis didn’t evenlooked at Cady, just threw the words at the air with a blank stare.

“I know it’s you.” Cadysaid in a low voice.

“I know.” Janis respondedin the same way.

“I just…” Cady stoppedwalking and Janis turned around just a couple steps in front of her.“How?” she asked honestly “Why?”

Janis gave shoulders.

“Have you seen her?” Hersmile didn’t reach her eyes.

“Janis…”

“One day we were alone inthe bathroom and ended up arguing – as usual.”Janis rolled hereyes and threw her head back. “Out of nowhere she jumped and kissedme. We were so caught up in the argument that out energy shiftedfocus completely and just…”

“When was that?”

“Last year.”

“What? It has been going onfor a year?”

“We’re not together oranything, okay? We just call each other whenever we want to fuck.”

“Sure…” Cady coughed.

“Trust me. The only feelinginvolved is anger.”

Cady knew it wasn’t true, butknew Janis would never admit it.

“How long Gretchen knows?”

“She found out lastsummer.” The girl closed her eyes remembering the exact scene “Sheopened the door of Regina’s room and found us in bed together. Ithought they would both freak out but turns out Regina just shruggedand Gretchen left like a scared dog.”

Cady stopped for a second,she could really see that happening, of course Gretchen wouldn’t sayanything, she worshiped Regina.

“It doesn’t change anythingin our plans.” Janis said with a conclusive expression and startedwalking again, Cady soon followed her.

“We have to see eachother tomorrow.”Janis, 23:16.

“Come to my place at3pm.” George, 23:20.

Janis walked to the door ofthe George’s house and, before she could knock, Regina opened thedoor wearing a white tank top, light pink velvet pajama shorts and aconfident smile.

“Hey.” she saidinnocently.

Janis didn’t even greetedRegina. She just went in her direction and kissed her lips roughly,her arms went straight to the girl’s waist and held her up. Reginasquealed with excitement and threw her legs around Janis, as she felther back fiercely reach the wall. The door slammed loudly but thatdidn’t stop them, their lips were still ferociously moving againsteach other in a long established battle. The touch was sloppy andtheir teeth collided against each other, making the two girls smilesoftly against each other’s mouth. Regina held Janis’ hair andentangled her fingers between them, smoothly pulling it, gettingmuffled moans from the girl.

As if this was their lastencounter, Janis’ mouth hungrily lowered to the girl’s neck, thetrace of bites and wet kisses fastly left marks on her skin.

“Don’t leave a mark.”

Janis laughed on her skin,intentionally biting her shoulder and softly pressing her teeth,followed by her tongue racing from the shoulders to her lower neck.The feeling of Regina’s nails tracing on her back felt a lot likerevenge. She reached for the blonde’s lips again with an amused smileand the girl tried her hard to keep a steady face.

“Don’t you dare leave amark.” Regina whispered against the girl’s lips.

“Or what?” Janis raisedan eyebrow and softly released her hold on Regina’s hips.

“Or we’re done.” She lether legs meet the ground, freeing herself from the girl’s touch,tilted her head to the side and crossed her arms in her chest.

Janis was trying really hardnot to laugh. Oh, boy, one of these days they would actually be done,and she would actually miss moments like these.

“Whatever.” She turnedaround and before reaching for the door Regina’s hand grabbed hers.

“Ugh.” Regina rolled hereyes. “Let’s go to my room.”

Fuck, Sometimes it felt tooreal.

They walked through the housestill holding hands, and she couldn’t stop thinking about her secretrevenge plan, about her secret friendship with Cady, about Cady’srecent discovery of their affair.

Before she could realizewhere they were, Regina pushed her against the door and already heldher shirt sliding it up and kissing the exposed parts of her stomach,she smiled at the vision of Regina on her knees devotedly kissing andscratching her skin. Her hands instinctively grabbed Regina’s hairand caressed her scalp, enjoying the enthusiasm the girl was givingher.

As Regina reached for herzipper Janis felt the guilt striking in her head. She pushed Regina’shead by her hair and met beautiful blue eyes lustfully staring ather.

“What’s wrong?”

“We have to talk.”

Regina’s eyebrow furrowed asshe stood up and tried to fix her hair.

“Is it serious?”

“Yeah…” Janis scratchedthe back of her head pondering her thoughts.

“Put your shirt on then, orelse I won’t focus.” She smiled softly and seated on the bed.Behind her smile, she was deeply worried. Janis has been the moststable part of her life for a while now and, she would never admit itin a million years, but only with her Regina felt like herself.

She watched Janis reach herblack t-shirt on the ground and awkwardly put it on.

“We can’t do this anymore.”

It was like Regina could hearthe words before they came out of Janis’ mouth. She knew it wascoming. Knew it wasn’t forever and that Janis wouldn’t take her crapfor much longer. Hell, she knew Janis deserved best. She deservedsomeone that would take her to parties and introduce her to theirfriends, someone that would save her contact on their phones with aheart next to it without feeling embarrassed of what it might mean.Someone that could actually admit they were in love with her.

She deserved someone thatoffered everything Regina couldn’t.

Regina wanted to be withJanis.

Only at this moment she couldadmit it to herself, a thought she avoided for so long. She wanted totake Janis out, show her off on instagram, be the first person sheshowed her painting to, wanted to spend the night with her and cuddlewithout feeling guilty. More than anything, she wanted to acceptthese things were what she wanted.

She wanted to ask Janis thereason.

“Why can’t we do thisanymore? Am I not good enough for you?” She had so many questionsbut none of them came up, she knew the answer for them.

They stared at each other forwhat felt like hours and -somehow- Janis knew the debate going oninside Regina’s head. She could feel the tension rising and fallingon the girl’s shoulders and the tears that formed and were gone witha brush of Regina’s hand.

“Whatever.”

From all the things she couldhave said, from all the words that expressed just how broke Janis’would leave her, she chose the one that didn’t said anything.

“Whatever.” The wordsunsaid flew around them in the room, their eyes met and held the sameremorse. There was no turning back now – and they both knew this.

#rejanis #regina/janis #writing #mean girls

[i-am-parsec]

Page 4

Henrik has gone from ignoring me for weeks to monitoring my every move 24/7. Stacy goes around the house making jokes about the benefits of having an live-in doctor since she may go into labour any minute now but I can't tell she's just as worried as me about the Doc. Worried because he's not explaining himself. Worried because he won't tell what's in the goddamn book. Worried because of his reaction when she "dared" to use Google to translate the first page. Henrik claims it's ancient German, too hard for him to understand, "after all, Chase, I only lived in Berlin for a few years as a kid, I barely speak modern German!, but you can't bullshit the bullshiter, Schneeplestein.

He's scared, and while I keep telling myself I don't what of, I think it's time to face up to the facts. It's time to call mom and ask what the fuck happened the night Charles broke his arm and I met my wife.

***

I have two uncles. Both of them in prison. One of them for murder, the other for rape and murder. I had no idea they were in prison or that they existed at all. My mother told me as that trying to contact them was pointless, she swore to my father I would never meet them. Apparently delivering that fucking book wasn't his only deathbed wish, knowing him, the fucker probably made a list. I want to be mad at him, I really do, but I can't, right now I can't feel anything. There's so much going on inside my head and at the same time, it's blank. It reminds me of our time working in Arizona, the attempted robbery - when Stacy shot at that guy with the gun so close to my head, I felt the whole world going completely mute while simultaneously exploding. The ringing right after, that's how I feel now. Silenced terror.

I go back to how mom greeted me and it makes me want to scream.

"I'm glad you called, dear. You have no time to waste; now, listen carefully and everything will be alright, you are the one who's gonna get it right, son."

Reassuring words as she holds me in the monster's den. Nothing but lies, that's all this family is. She asked me to record the conversation. I should have hung up right then and there

Triplets. Dad was born first, then Lucas, then Matthew. The three of them seemed like healthy, happy boys despite their father's distant behavior. If what my mother says it's true, that grandfather I never got to meet only held his children once for a picture after they were born and never again touched them, not a hug, not a caress, not even pat on the back. Their mother tried really hard to make up for their father's lack of affectionate gestures, in other words, she spoiled them. That alone could explained my father's addictions and his brothers' criminal tendencies but mom insists there's more. She insists there is a curse.

I am going insane, aren't I? A sane person would suggest their mother to get herself checked after listening to what I did, yet here I am writing it all down, going over the recording again and again, afraid I might miss some details. This is ridiculous...

A curse has followed the Brody men for at least 6 generations. Someone, somewhere made a pact and apparently screw all of us up; with who or what is up to debate but what my family has deduced over the years is that this entity preys on all of the males who descend from that poor fucker and that it feeds off our pain (either emotional or physical) while working its way into the brain of its victims. Once it achieves this, it starts controlling the victim's body until it completely destroys it and then proceeds to start the same process with the next generation, i.e. It drives you insane and, after killing you, it starts torturing your son.

I've always doubted my mother’s sanity but this certainly sounds like reason enough to lock her up in an asylum - although, given the fact that I might go crazy myself in a matter of months, maybe that's a not a good idea; last thing I need is to end up trapped in a mental institution with her. That could totally happen, I'm unlucky like that, as time has proven more than once.

From here on, I'll just write down her exact words, I'm done with trying to process all this crap, it's obviously not happening. 

"Your father loved you and me more than anyone has ever loved anyone in this world. He made the biggest sacrifices so you and every other man with Brody blood on their veins could get an actual fighting chance, a shot at happiness. He went through Hell, and back for us, my love, and maybe you think ‘no, that's not right, he put us through Hell, he was the devil himself’, but that's just not true and you know it. Maybe that thing managed to slip away from your memory but it’s not an easy sight to forget, once you see it, it sticks with you forever, and you saw it, son, many times. Every time your father pinned you down on the floor, every time he burned your skin with a cigarette, every time he threaten you or me to kill us, there it was, relishing in our fear. You have to understand, Chase, that while all of us could see it, no one knew how to stop it, no one was brave enough to find out, except your father and his brothers. He wasn't the horrible man everyone saw from the outside, he was and will always be the tender boy I fell in love with so many years ago.

He didn't know what was going to happen to him as he grew older, his father never warned him - you see, that was your grandfather’s strategy. This thing needs the victims to love and be loved, to have hope and dreams, it needs them to be happy, so he can rip their happiness apart. Your grandfather learned this from the old book I sent you and he concluded that if he stayed away from his sons and never allowed himself to love anyone, he would be safe, he could starve the demon and maybe even destroy it. But there's no escape from love, no matter how bad it hurts. He suffered just as much as your dad did, but got nothing out of it. When your dad and uncles found out about this curse of sorts, they realized there was no point in trying to fight it, so they didn't. They let it consume them completely, so they could learned as much as possible from it, what it was, how it behaved and especially, how to kill it.

I knew your uncles. They were good men, and they loved your father very much. By the time your grandfather died and the truth came out, Matthew was engaged, Lucas was a successful singer (you won't find his songs on the internet but trust me, he was gifted, just like you, dear) and your father, well, he and I had just moved in together and I was pregnant with you. It is truly a shame you never got to meet Matt and Luke because they would have been the most wonderful uncles any kid could ever have. In a way, they are. They decided your dad was the one who had the most to lose, so they sacrificed themselves, hoping it would prevent the monster from attacking him too. That's how they ended up in jail. They were the kindest people I had the honor to meet, they would have never hurt anyone, but they thought if they became the evil puppets this thing wanted them to be, it would leave your father and his new family alone. They loved you a lot, Chase, if your father made me promise you will never to see them, it's because they are no longer the lovely men they once were. This thing consumed them. You must remember them as the smiling kids in the pictures I'm sending you. You should be getting them soon. That's who you uncles are, not the emotionless shells who are in prison now.

Just like them, your father was not the beast you sadly had to grow up with, he was kind and creative and he would have let this thing eat him up alive if it meant finding a way out for you, son, and I think he did. The book is mostly notes from your great grandfather, the first one to "investigate" this thing, but on the back there are your father's own findings. Read them, dear, prepare yourself but most importantly, don't make your elders' mistakes. Don't try to ignore it or hide it, this is a fight you can't avoid or win alone. I'm glad you married the Walter girl, she always seemed so strong and determined, I know that if you tell her the truth, like your father did with me, she will stick with you.

I'm sorry it took me so long to tell why we could never leave, my love, I really am. I hope, one day, you can forgive us all.”

I want to tell my mother to fuck off, to stop making shit up and accept the fact she married an abusive drunk worthless piece of shit who happens to be brother of two equally fucked up pieces of shit and that maybe now that he's dead she can finally get some professional help to deal with it, but I can't. I want to put this pen down and go to bed and hold my beautiful wife, tell her everything is alright, but I can't. I want to call Henrik and tell my friend there's no need to lie because whatever is written is that book is nothing but some drug-induced crap my great-grandfather wrote many years ago, but I can't.

Because I know it's not true. Because I remember my father's true voice. Because I can see the void in the window's reflection, hovering over my shoulder, reading these rushed words. Taller than a human, wider than my desk, I can feel its freezing breath against my back. I don't want to turn around. I don't want to stare at it and listen to its heinous scream. I don't want to tell the truth. I don't want to admit my father was a good man controlled by a fucking demon because then that means my monster is not gone and I'm still not free.

It means my monster is standing right here with me and this time there's no one to hold it behind a shut door. This time, I have a son on the way, and it's my turn to hold it shut.

4 pages left. Page 3 // Page 5

❤️Tag list❤️: @amyxmiaplay @awkward-bullshit @beck-pma @closedworldofmathiel @darktrash-drash @fanfictionrecommendations-com @flyingfishflopsthings @fruitycasket @happysingingturtles @hiimizzyxoxo @hishex @kitnkas @mcomegalletas @mijako98 @mjjau @mysterious-cupcake-ninja @mysticalanimallover @novasingalaxies @plutoandpolaris @probablyghosting @randomartdudette @saltyweirdbi @sassy-in-glasses @scarlet--raven @septicuniverse @skyewardlight @thevampireauthoress @youllnevertaketheskyfromme

#Unaddressed Letters #Chase Brody #His letters

[lookwhatilost]

24

i. i must’ve passed out unintentionally at some point. im not happy abt it. I didn’t take my makeup off yet. my teeth aren’t brushed. I do this a lot and I worry abt how damaged they must be getting, jst bc I’m stupid and drink too much. I dnt think I drink that much, I mean maybe in general, but not last night. I had, what? the flights at area two, the spiked seltzer and Moscow mule at cityside, the two beers when I got back to the apartment—wait, no, that actually is kind of a lot. im not sure when I got so desensitized. I check the clock—2AM—so i actually haven’t been knocked out for as long as I thought. two hours, probably. it could be worse. the cat is still awake and still being credulous with me. he’s warming up to me again, but it’s a little disheartening to redo this dance with him each time I see him. remember me, dammit. i remember you. I dnt think I’m being entirely fair to him, though. he’s a cat. i can’t rly apply my human understanding of anything to his behavior. either way, he’s waiting outside the bathroom for me when I go in to attend to my teeth and makeup. he follows me. he falls asleep next to me. i feel a little bit validated. part of me thinks being the kind of person that animals like effortlessly is the mark of some inherent goodness, but I know it’s illogical and this took effort. i want to jst believe there’s goodness here, and in my absence of any real examples, I’ll assign depth to something like this. sometimes it’s all you can do.

ii. the sun doesn’t have any business being up at five-something, but it is, and I dnt think there are shades in this room. well, I’m not sure, maybe there are, but I didn’t have the foresight to look for them or close them. llewyn has moved, he’s in his actual bed now, but he seems to have taken notice of the fact that I’m awake. I try to rest my eyes a little bit. i know i won’t be able to sleep with the sun in my eyes, but it’s restful anyway. I have a long day ahead of me and i want to ease into the morning. i think i drifted back off but I can’t tell. llewyn has moved again. it seems like he wants to cuddle now. impeccable timing, as always. ive heard ian’s alarm go off a few times in the other room but they’ve still not come out of it. i have to leave soon. i wanna actually physically say goodbye but I’m worried they’re avoiding me. the last time we had a goodbye moment, i kissed them on the cheek and that probably made them rly uncomfortable. I’m not even sure why I did that. i think they’re the only person im comfortable showing any kind of affection towards but that doesn’t make that action any less weird. especially given... i dnt want to think abt that shit anymore, actually. i can’t without feeling ashamed and very, very stupid. it’s not like that anymore, but i wonder how much has to happen and how much time has to elapse for something like that to not actually matter anymore. i wonder if it ever won’t. it’s probably not personal. not everything that affects me is abt me, sheesh.

iii. the iced coffee at cumberland farms tastes the same as the iced coffee everywhere else, but i can’t get it here often, and it’s very inexpensive. it can’t help but occur to me that 24 ounces of coffee is 7 calories, and the calorie counts are printed on the packages of the food I got—250 for the sandwich, 150 for the hash browns. i marinade on the thought for a little bit before deciding what to do with it. I eat my food and drink the coffee and try not to remember. I do anyway. I’m trying to think of different numbers. this is a pretty substantial takeaway breakfast for $3 and change. better than what i probably could have got at mcdonalds. the sandwich is kind of soggy but it’s not bad. the hash browns are better.

iv. five hours in the car fly by my nose and im back home, kind of. i think I’m still trying to figure out what “home” means. this place is familiar. it’s where i live. my roommate’s dirty dishes from yesterday morning are still in the sink. mail that the cat knocked off the counter on my way out is still sitting on the floor. 24 hours have passed since I was last here, but it looks like nothing has been touched. I may as well have just stepped out for a cigarette.

v. very rarely does anything change in a days time, but when enough of them pass, everything is suddenly different. i slept on this couch more times than I could count before i was even on the lease, like I’d known I’d someday live here and wanted to warm myself up to it. and I’ve lived here for a while now, going on 8 months to be exact, but it simultaneously feels much longer than that, and as though it hasn’t actually been that long. a lot has happened in that time, but mainly to evan. ive witnessed many things that he’s done but have branched out very little myself. i transferred at my job abt a year ago but im still doing the same work I’ve been doing since i was 19. i still have the same friends but i see increasingly less of them. i get into the same car and travel the same roads that take me the same places. i still drink jst as much.

vi. my body has changed a lot, but the things I’ve always hated abt it are still there and the changes have jst given me more to resent. i look in the mirror when I get out of the shower and it’s all the same. the face with the perpetually stupid, bovine look plastered on it, the same masculine jaw, broad shoulders, breasts that are too far apart, more noticeably so since they’ve gotten smaller, the laparoscopy scar on my navel, the clusters of freckles that are jst pigmented enough to make my skin look blotchy, the perpetually inflamed hair follicles on my thighs, the knobby knees, always covered in bruises, the leg that’s slightly shorter than the other. the counter in the bathroom is high enough that I can’t see my labia but I know they’re there. I want to go a day without debating whether to cut them off with the sharpest knife I can find. it’s not today. the weight loss did little to make me feel better abt the way it all looks—the size of my jaw and shoulders is more apparent now that they are less hidden, my eyes bug out, it’s hard to contort so that my ribs aren’t visible somewhere, my hipbones poke through my clothing. I dnt think I’ve ever looked so bad in my life. Im going to cover up.

vii. I look at the date on my phone and saw that it was the 24th and for some reason identified that this was the last time I’d see that number on a calendar before I turned 24 myself. It doesn’t seem to make sense that I’m that old now. I know it’s not old, too, but it doesn’t seem like that should be me. I still think I behave like a child in a lot of respects, and the thought conjures a memory of my old therapist insulting me, saying that I had the mental tendencies of a child in grammar school. when she told me this initially, I replied to her sarcastically: “well, shit. maybe I should see a therapist abt that” and she told me not to come back to her practice. I cried on the way home despite how cognizant I was of the absurdity of the situation. “grammar school”—who even calls it that? it stuck with me nonetheless. it’s hard to have a therapist fire you, even with the knowledge that the therapist in question was not very good, without wondering if you’re a basket case, if help will always be lost on you.

viii. my job isn’t the worst but the labor feels pointless and it rly intensifies my feelings that I’m fighting never ending monotony to wring out very little in the way of satisfaction. i think you rly have to love this job to do it as a career, or maybe you need to have a specific personality type that makes it easier to engage w. im not very good at socializing and i think im getting too old to keep making excuses for myself abt that. meg and ash are always nagging me to sell more but i dnt feel comfortable enough to make small talk w these people, let alone sell them stuff. i feel like i sound so stupid when I speak aloud. i use a lot of fillers in my speech and it’s rly hard to talk abt hair without sounding like a bullshitter. something is very insincere abt the language that’s involved. i know i know what im talking abt but I dnt know how to sound like i know what I’m talking abt, and it’s hard bc the latter is a lot more important.

ix. I can’t tell if people sincerely aren’t making sense today or if im foggy bc i kept waking up and going back to sleep. this guy keeps saying that the last woman who cut his hair used a 5 on the sides and a 9 on the top but she cut it all w scissors. that definitely doesn’t make sense. i dnt think they even make a 9. why would she be using clipper settings to describe a scissor cut? the top here is at least 3 times as long as the sides and back are. im not going—oh my god, i can’t deal w kids who scream during their haircuts—insane, right? stuff like this makes me rly doubt myself, too, like there are bigger gaps in my knowledge than—wow he rly jst is not tiring himself out w this screaming, huh—i feel there are. what if this actually is a coherent way to describe a haircut? maybe he rly is jst stupid, but I also think that when you write people off as “stupid” all the time, it reflects—god, why is his baby sister screaming now too? nothing is even fucking happening to her—worse on you than it does on them. it’s always the biggest idiots who are so self-satisfied to think that. but im not self-satisfied at all, im very insecure and it’s constantly apparent, but everyone is insecure abt a lot, and that doesn’t doesn’t equal intelligence. I wish I had a sounding board. and i rly wish that kid in Niya’s chair would stop crying.

x. everyone in the salon today seems like they’re in a bit of a weird mood, it’s not jst me for once. the phone is annoying me a lot more than usual today. i feel like it’s ringing every 20 minutes. niya is always very avoidant when it comes to taking haircuts, but meg is lagging today which is unusual. it was busy, too, but i keep getting shafted where tips are concerned. most of my regulars who were due to come in around this time came earlier this week, and usually they’re the ones who tip me the best. the radio station that’s on is very weird too, distractingly so—it’s gone from bowie, to panic at the disco, to nirvana, the police, florence and the machine, neil young, lord huron, rhcp, crowded house. it’s not intolerable, but i can’t seem to follow any sort of genre or time period theme and im paying more attention to figuring this out than i am what im supposed to be doing. it’s that point in the night where people generally stop coming in and I know I haven’t made very much. I’ve counted... $24. weird. are they playing “brick”? that’s a throwback.

xi. i remember my ex being rly into mystics despite not understanding them very well. i forget what he was doing w my natal chart, but he told me once that 24 would be a rly significant year for me. i asked him why and he said that’s all he could figure, there was nothing in the way of further details that he provided. i know I said something back to him abt hoping that id be married by 24—so stupid. granted, i would have been 18 or so at the time and 24 seemed very distant at the time. but that was 6 years at the time, now it’s less than 3 weeks. ive changed a lot, mentally at least, but my circumstances haven’t rly. maybe on superficial levels. yeah, i support myself financially and i have a job in a field i could realistically work in for the rest of my life if I wanted to do that. but im still jst as unsure abt what I want and what’s going to happen to me. i feel like I’m more “sought after” in a few ways, but my phone is jst as dry as it’s always been. i was hoping the move would have been good for me but im very scared abt doing it alone. and i might still do it, i jst dnt know what the timeline is going to look like and there’s no promise of me turning over a new leaf for real and finding my inspiration jst bc my scenery has changed. every time ive moved when I was younger, it jst dug me deeper into loneliness. but i was a child and it wasn’t my choice. but there’s no way for me to rationalize asking my actual lived experiences. maybe that’s the big thing that’ll happen to me at 24? or maybe instead of getting married, I’ll break a marriage up. i know that’s not going to get that far, you know, w kenny. i probably shouldn’t joke abt it, though.

xii. it looks like Evan is home from friday’s already and i rly dnt want to be around him right now. im still feeling rly hurt abt him pulling the plug on the massachusetts move without making any effort at all to sort his finances out or secure some additional income that wasn’t the precarious extra dollars he’s been getting from porn. he keeps sinking all of his money into bar tabs and impulse purchases and takeaway food. and his cars. i wish he would jst be honest w himself abt the cars already. he needs to sell the honda and be done w it before he has to replace the engine and drop another two grand on repairs. i dnt know why he never listens to me. im rly growing to dislike him, but we’re in this together whether i like it or not, and im not going to lead him astray when his financial problems are dragging me down w him. i think i am going to be a hypocrite and go out alone tonight. kenny’s bar is doing that bottle opening thing tonight, right? but i dnt rly want to be around kenny right now. but he might not be there. but i also get a weird satisfaction from being around him I’ll bet it’s going to be a madhouse there, too, and i rly hate crowded bars. but it’s something to do. maybe i will get lucky and someone will talk to me and we’ll have a decent conversation and I’ll never see them again after. why is that my ideal?

xiii. god, running out the last hour on the clock is always hell. no one ever seems to come in, so it feels like a huge waste of time, but when people do come in, i get very irritated. so I’m not sure what i actually want from my time here. i think im jst too fixated on how being stuck here until close almost every night is hurting my ability to expand myself socially. but what would i even be doing if i wasn’t here? i think i would jst be finding a way to waste time. id be sinking hours into doing nothing like I do all the time. i have a lot of time on my hands, in the grand scheme of things. i have literally no idea where it all goes. i drink a lot of it away bc i am generally too uninspired to participate in my hobbies, and i think that feeds the darkness bc they make me very happy. at least w cooking, yknow, i have to eat. i have an organic need to engage w that one. all else has been falling through the cracks, though. i dnt think ive picked my bass up in 3 weeks.

xiv. Kenny’s bar looks like it’s absolutely mobbed and I’d be upset if I went all the way out there only for me not to be able to sit down anywhere. it looks like Evan went back out. that works. i have beer at home. I’d be smarter to save the money anyway. i want to support kenny and the rest of the guys, even though I dnt have a lot of nice things to say abt him. his brewery is cool. it’s cool to have something with so much potential come out of your home town, even if i dnt entirely identify w that place as being my home town. but it’s better than saying that im from alabama, even though i feel like my childhood is more tethered to mobile. i think people would make weird assumptions abt me if I said that. people are rly unfair to what the south is actually like. i dnt know. but their growth has been nice to watch. seeing something you’ve supported since the beginning grow to the degree it has makes you feel pride even if it has nothing to do with you personally. and ive had so many good moments there, w ian, w my family, in general. i met justin there and im happy abt that, even though i dnt know what’s going on w justin. i dnt think justin knows what’s going on w justin. 

xv. looking at my shelf of ian souvenirs is making me miss ian, even though we were jst together, even though we’re seeing one another again in 2 weeks. I wish I could engage w them in a more stable way. seeing them reminds me of being a teenager and breaking into the apartment i used to live in on governor’s island. and since the base went out of commission not long after we moved, i was the last person to live in that apartment. i went back into my first bedroom and the evidence that it used to belong to me was still apparent, but the floorboards had been warped and the wallpaper was very faded out. i felt weird being back, nostalgia and warmth pitted against the instinct that i wasn’t supposed to be there. i wasn’t supposed to see it—a rosy memory colliding w irrefutable proof of the passage of time. ive been very unfair to them, ian, in so many respects but it’s all very mixed and complicated. i look at this person, and i see so many years worth of history, but the familiar messy gold hair is framing a slightly different, slightly fuller face. they talk abt people i dnt know very well, stories set in a city ive spent very little time in. it’s disorienting. i feel like when im here alone, im always confronting their ghost, in places we used to go together, in things we used to talk abt doing but never did—a final hike on a trail that closed before we got the chance to go together, their name scratched in the wall of a dive bar, things they’d always point out on the side of the road, small pieces of their essence scattered across a place they are no longer a part of. i wonder what I did to deserve any preservation, too. i see this person who I truly am proud of, who i rly do think is going places, and that respect gets interpreted into feelings of inadequacy. that there’s no way someone like this can look at me and see anything other than an unstable failure. i dnt think any other person knows me more fully, for better or for worse. worse is dominant. i know it is. my intuition is always screaming at me that they hate me, that they left bc they wanted to get away from me. literally none of that makes sense. i know they dnt lie to spare my feelings, but i feel like they almost have to be. i wonder why i can’t trust that im cared for. i wonder why I can’t have an evaluation of another person that i dnt immediately relate back to myself.

xvi. it took two beers for me to realize that I haven’t eaten anything since i was in boston. i need to stop doing this shit, but im still getting my calories if im drinking them, right? i feel like it doesn’t make sense for recovery to be as difficult as it is, but my emotions have always interfered w my hunger cues, and my body is so accustomed to constantly being hungry that it’s not something i even notice that much anymore. I’ve been getting weird pins and needles feelings in what I’m assuming are my intestines as I’ve upped my intake and I’m afraid of them rupturing and me bleeding out internally when I’m home alone. such a pathetic way to die—having your own blood and bile and shit poison you. I doubt I’m on my deathbed, i think my system is jst on the slow path to returning to normal, but i wasn’t expecting physical symptoms aside from weight gain, which on its own, i could live w. my ednos was never as restrictive as it was until somewhat recently. my problem was generally concerned w binge eating and compensatory behavior, usually fasting or short periods of restriction or exercise. all punishment based. i can’t help but find it ridiculous that i ended up w an eating disorder despite never caring abt my weight. even when I was a high school freshman and overweight, i didn’t care. i think it’s because i dnt outwardly self harm anymore, and that self-destructive need has translated into other conduits. the scars this leaves are much more socially acceptable than what I was left w when I was younger and carved “dumb whore” into my thigh. i can’t believe i did something so stupid. im glad that finally isn’t visible anymore. i can’t believe that i’m almost 24 and still, to some extent, do shit like that.

xvii. i still have that vacation time that I took to look at apartments in massachusetts, and since that isn’t going to happen, i want to take a poorly planned solo vacation. i looked at places to stay in DC, in chicago, in nashville, but i left discouraged. nashville is too far, Chicago is too expensive, DC seems too dangerous. i think my perpetual anxiety prevents me from taking full advantage of my freedom. and I can be free. 24 hours ago, I was in Boston and I didn’t have to tell anyone I was doing that. I’ve navigated a strange place on my own. I lived to tell the tale, but I also wonder what the point is of stuff like this if I have no one to share it w. No one to reminisce w. it feels like a waste of money. almost nothing feels worth what I spend on it––time, money, calories, stop thinking abt calories.

xviii. i open another beer, basically on an empty stomach. i need to stop drinking like this, it’s not even negotiable anymore. i know this is a problem. i need to stop. i dnt know if I want to stop. i want to drown in bliss but I feel none. alcohol amplifies everything I feel, and when I’m feeling good, it’s generally very good, but when it’s bad, it gets very bad. i feel weird now so it’s amplifying the negatives. they do not need that. no, i dnt need that. i know this is an addiction. im scared, but not scared enough to do anything abt it.

xix. i still have Rebecca on social media despite everything. she’s moved, she’s no longer in my proximity, but i still have her on things even though I have no motivation to keep any sort of peace with her. I remember when things happened, when i was too drunk to stand up and she insisted on forcing herself on me anyway, after the fact she kept saying all this stuff to me abt how she wanted me to be her girlfriend and i jst sort of laid there and said nothing. i had nothing to say. i wasn’t processing what’s happened, i jst kept thinking “this is bad. that was bad” to myself. and then she never rly follows up, a small acknowledgment of culpability, maybe, but she’s moved in w some boyfriend now. it’s weird that people can do awful things to you and move on like nothing happened, and you have those moments stuck in your head, keeping you stunted, keeping you away from living uncorrupted, uninhibited, the way you should engage w it. i think of how demoralizing it is to have your perception shattered by a 30-something woman who still laughs at nyan cat shit. i think of how most discussions of sexual assault in the mainstream act as though only men are capable of it, as though it’s only ever happening in heterosexual contexts. i think of how everyone who bullied me in high school probably does not even remember it. i think it’s absurd to compare the two things but I dnt laugh.

xx. i want to talk to Justin but i have nothing to say. i dnt know what I should talk to him abt. i dnt know how you’re supposed to do this stuff. im comforted by the fact that, since he was w someone for 10 years, he’s rly out of the dating loop, and he have no idea what he’s doing either. but it’s a red flag, you know. I think we’re jst friendly. and I’m okay w that, I need friends. i want friends. i never see fati anymore these days. things w evan are polluted. ian is very far away. it occurred to me that i know very little abt him, aside from us getting along, but do we actually? how would I know? it’s not uncommon to have good conversations, for most people. but he knows more abt me than I do abt him. i dnt think i could name a single one of his interests if prompted. he probably couldn’t name one of mine that isn’t “drinking”. I’m not sure if I’m willfully ignorant of reality or if im jst assigning negativity to something without a lot of basis. i wonder why im incapable of living in the moment and not thinking too deeply abt what happens to me. i figured out what I’m doing w all the time on my hands.

xxi. everyone has been telling me lately that i should try to monetize my cooking and I dnt know if I believe them. i can’t imagine I’m as good at it as people say. i dnt trust it. im not even sure if it’s a passion, rly, i think my eating disorder has corrupted my relationship w food and i have to push harder to be interested in it normally, and this is how i cope. i might jst be on a kick. and if it actually is a passion, do i want to ruin it by making it into a living? i didn’t feel one way or the other abt hair when I went into it. it was a neutral activity. to grow to hate it is not a loss. i only care abt being good at it bc directly dealing w people makes my failures feel very personal when they happen. i know good food is something you can’t fake. i made ian spring rolls yesterday and they insisted I not watch them eat. i respected the request, but i needed to see the look on their face. I’m annoyed I didn’t. everything was eaten, I know they wouldn’t have done that if they hated them. but I only have my family to go off otherwise, and they would definitely lie to me. so i dnt know. i feel like support is untrustworthy. i know the people who won’t be honest w me, i dnt entirely trust praise from the people who I know who aren’t shy to say “it’s not my thing, I’m not crazy abt it”. i dnt know why i can’t accept that I’m good at anything.

xxii. there’s no reason for my scale to be out when i’m “trying” to “recover” but i will not put it away. i step on it anyway, and it looks like i’m 103lbs, fully clothed, stomach full of beer. i know it’s bad, but i get a weird amount of gratification from seeing it. it’s very hard to maintain a weight that low, so it feels like an accomplishment, even though it isn’t one. it’s been months since i had a period, and that adds to the sense of satisfaction. but it’s not good. obviously. it’s really getting in the way of me wanting to work out and actually improve my body. i’m fatigued. i’m foggy. i know the fact that i’m depriving myself is partially responsible for my terrible mood. i know i already had a heart problem, why on earth would i make that worse for myself? i’ve been having a few normal eating days, so i still won’t admit to myself that i’ve relapsed. i had a lava cake 5 days ago! there’s a quarter stick of butter in that! and an ounce of chocolate! i didn’t care, so obviously i’m doing something right. i know i’m not, entirely, but i’m staying positive. either that, or i’m extremely in denial. there’s still chocolate in the cabinet. no, of course i am not going to eat it.

xxiii. meg scheduled 6 people on tomorrow, so it looks like i’m not going to make any goddamn money again. my aunt is coming in, so i’ll get a little more from her, but the cash i take home there is so very inconsistent. i feel like the more money i save, the more i worry abt it, like i should have more by now. like i’m going to struggle forever. the stuff i’m buying now won’t matter in a few days, but that anxiety is always going to be over my head. i need a career change. i know that. i keep forgetting that pete gave me money for college, so my “i dnt want to be in debt” excuse is a lie. i keep telling people i’m considering going to college again but i know i never will bc i haven’t actually gotten any better at managing my time and being disciplined. i think i’m better at pretending i am, but i’m not. even if i seriously wanted to, i wouldn’t be motivated enough to actually take the steps required to re-enroll. it’s all too overwhelming. i feel like that feeling alone is a sign i’d fail.

xxiv. I’ve been saying this thing to myself a lot lately to self-soothe: “god’s in his heaven” and i dnt rly know what I mean by that. i dnt know if i believe in stuff like that, I dnt have any reason to believe that there’s any kind of order or force that presides over anything. is that what I’m talking abt? we’re all preoccupied w our own things, attending to our own futures, making our own peace to the best of our abilities? maybe? am i saying that we’ve all been abandoned, ignored? then why do I find it comforting? i dnt think my inner monologue makes a lot of sense, but i only ever talk to myself these days. maybe I’m talking abt myself in an idealized way, but I look back on the past 24 hours and see my good mood i woke up w descend, the 900 calories I’ve consumed today, the $24 I’ve made, the singular text thread I have w ian, the nothing I’ve done in the handful of hours I’ve been home, the three empty beer cans. i know i’m constantly in my own head, constantly picking myself apart, picking everything else apart. it accomplishes nothing. it’s useless self-flagellation. i’m constantly raking myself over the coals for shit that doesn’t matter, constantly agonizing over situations that aren’t actually that deep. i think that’s a way in which i lie to myself. i spend all day beating myself up over the inconsequential while never giving due attention to my actual flaws. even if i was, saying that i’m useless and stupid all the time still does nothing. it’s abt meaningful action, and i’m so bad at that, and i’m doing this exact thing again. i think i do it so i have something to point to, to say “i’m working on myself” when i’m jst being mean and self-righteous abt it. where has it gotten me? what do i want from it? do i think i can bully myself into change? do i rly think it will make me do anything other than resign to complacency? 24 hours, and a lot has happened, but i’ve still gotten nothing done. another will pass, and nothing will change. then enough days will pass, and i’ll notice everything is different, and i’ll still feel jst as stuck. i will be meaner to myself abt it. and that’s what i’ll do. over and over, until the end of time. Evan jst got home. he said something abt how sad i looked. he asked me what was wrong. i wish i had the guts to say any of it to anyone’s face, let alone his. it’s fine, it’s fine, i tell him, God’s in his heaven. whatever it is i actually mean by that.

#blog #literally do not feel obligated to read this. It is very VERY long #like my complete stream of consciousness from the past day #the stupid piece of shit bojack episode super extended directors cut #an essay in which i talk abt literally everything thats eating me and provide no solutions #the most disgustingly honest ive ever been on main #god's in his heaven

[elizabethrobertajones]

Comparing Season 6 and Season 10 - which one do you think makes more sense as a whole, which one better pulls of seeming like what happened/was revealed at the end of the season is what was supposed to happen/was planned all along?

I may be biased, but for me, season 6 by miles. And almost all of that is Edlund desperately cramming everything that had happened so far into something that either made sense or handwaved why it didn’t make sense in an effectively emotional enough episode that by the end of TMWWBK you sort of feel like you’ve actually got your answers and Cas has been completely honest and open with YOU at least, making it that much easier to handle what was going on. 

I think for me season 10 was poorly handled in ways that weren’t particularly well addressed and the only offered explanation ever was “oh it was Amara after all” which in the context of season 11 gives us some more characterisation to begin to pull things together, though without addressing everything. Still if we’re dealing with things as a whole, season 10 doesn’t have an episode that scrapes everything together in the post-Edlund era and what we get only within the confines of season 10 is extremely unsatisfactory, even if later canon eases it a little bit, along with just… not being actively in SPN season 10 as it airs :P 

Going off my memories of being in the fandom at the time, we had a lot of issues with things like 

Dean’s incomplete demon reversal (so far as in 10x02, written by Dabb who invented the cure repeating the correct steps, then in 10x03 Buckleming not following through with them)

“the river ends at the source” “never mind I was screwing with you”

Did Cain still have the Mark after 9x11? lasting drama until 10x14, and still debated afterwards especially by people who had thought he didn’t have the Mark and had passed it entirely to Dean now being very confused  

What the fuck was this about Lucifer having the Mark and how did that last minute addition affect everything? 

the Colette parallel being wildly mis-applied by fandom but also issues with the show’s fear to explore it leading to “we are all the colette” episodes with lasting drama until 10x22, where Charlie, Sam and Cas all variously and persistently seemed to be suggested to be capable of being a team effort to pull Dean out of the darkness. 10x22 also wasn’t enough to stop Dean, and the final confrontation was with Sam, I think a general consensus was - especially again with season 11′s help - that the memory of Mary drew him back/unleashed Amara metaphorically who unleashed Mary literally - it wasn’t a great note to end on without season 11 context (as a whole, so, like, a whole YEAR later) that Sam had “won” the battle to bring Dean back from himself where Cas had failed, and the subtext and show and fandom most of all had made SUCH a huge deal out of Colette, after 9x11 over-told her story instead of retelling Cain & Abel, that it was set up with the expectation that saving Dean was a romantic quest, not a brotherly one. 10x14 sort of helped set things to rights with the list, but the fighting about what it all meant at the time was AWFUL, and though I think I was right and the show bore that out and these days I type it all with confidence, I’m pretty sure there’s a ton of buried wank about it that could be dragged out if we want >.>

the fact there wasn’t really an overarcing Mark of Cain plot except “Dean is suffering” with the only 3 actual plot points they could do with it being demon!Dean, kill Cain, and remove Mark. Because of that, everything else is literally set-dressing to fill the time and add drama in between, but these were played with poorly and there wasn’t any subterfuge we weren’t in on (i.e. sam stealing the book) vs Cas betraying both the Winchesters and US. The only retcon offered in the end was Death’s exposition about the Darkness.

people literally forgetting which order episodes came out in and being very confused about why Amara wasn’t released when Dean was 14 in 10x12 even though he didn’t kill Cain for 2 more episodes (like, within weeks of 10x14 airing, I swear)

the understandable disappearance of Cole but bizarre application of that hunter called Rudy who popped up in his place and featured in 10x23 along with Cas for Dean’s guilt trip. Even if Cole and TAW sucked ass, it’s much easier to understand the emotional impact of what happened to Rudy if you assume he has the exact same backstory as Cole and the same nonsense happened to Dean twice in the same year :P 

Pre-season hype about Rowena made a huge deal out of the Grand Coven, and for a brief moment it seemed like there might be a witch plotline, including new lore dumps about different types of witches in 10x07, characters like Olivette the Hamster, etc, but they squandered her first season and 10x19 was as close as we got to any pay off to her actual storyline

Then Oskaar happened and that was like ??? Okay just introduce him in the second to last episode and throw us into that emotional situation 

the entire cure coming out of nowhere as a random last minute macguffin instead of having been anything they put together over the season - even though the book of the damned thing showed up in 10x11 it changed substantially from the clue Charlie left with (a less than 100 year old book with a library reference number found on an antique rare book website, based on a real book, which we all picked over and were left wondering if the plot was to be about some sort of occultism thing as a result) to a much different lore. Then there were a few episodes dealing with it and the codex, the actual spell had no real struggle, and Crowley delivered all the pieces while Cas stood around scowling and Rowena stood around in chains eye-rolling. Compare season 13′s pacing with Sam and Dean cobbling together what they needed from halfway through the season, and being on the mission to get to the AU from episode 9, with relatively little of the endless sitting around googling and being frustrated of past seasons but ESPECIALLY season 10 where Sam was futilely trawling the results of googling “mark of cain” from mid-late season 9 through to like, 10x18 when an actual brief plot appeared around it directly. 

I think all of it points to a problem of working forwards from where they were instead of backwards to tidy up what was left. In season 6 Edlund took as many loose plot threads, from how Sam lost his soul, what was up with Crowley and Cas, the angel war, explanations for Sam and Samuel working together, why eve happened, everything, and put it all together to explain the elements of the season so far in a new light. Despite how disastrous that season was, PRETENDING you knew like you meant to do it all along glosses over inconsistencies in Samuel’s story or Cas and Crowley’s 6x10 interactions, and makes them relatively inconsequential when most of the details add up. 

The same thing works with the Lucifer as Sam’s vessel storyline, in the sense that while Azazel’s plan is fucking ridiculous in its over-complex bizarre attempt to find a worthy true vessel that Heaven had fated, comparing season 1-2 to season 5 head on is bad, each season explains itself from the last in enough of a way and with enough knowledge of what already happened that really despite vast inconsistencies in the lore, by 5x22 we are pretty much all on board to accept the way it all played out because they use what was previously written to build up Sam’s arc, and little details thrown in towards the end like Brady and then Lucifer revealing ALL of Sam’s closer rando peeps had been demons, tidy up more and more loose ends and there’s left with plausible deniability about a lot of the issues.

In season 10 they kept on introducing elements instead of working with what they had already established, and also discarded what seemed like major plot hooks for Rowena and Cole, one annoyingly, one completely metatextually understandably and fuck TAW, I’m glad the show never brought Cole back as soon as rumours of him groping fans appeared, and it makes me genuinely trust that the SPN set is a safe place. But yeah. 

Things they set up and could have worked with, were the Cas’s grace arc, which was resolved to a small personal satisfaction to Cas without any major plot impact except we could stop worrying about when Cas would get sick and die from bad grace, or steal more. 

The demon!Dean issue was bad writing from Buckleming re: was he still a demon or not, but given Dean was supposed to be struggling with succumbing to darkness the season actually kept him almost completely level without any significant relapses, even after killing Cain. The sense of needing a functional Dean Winchester to keep hunting monsters and prop up the show as both the carrier of the mytharc, the emotional core, and the go-between between Sam and Cas even when the show was trying to figure out if Sam and Cas could function without Dean, it was all still so much about Dean that in 10x21 when they’re doing the cringeworthy “for Dean” thing and Rowena rolls her eyes like “I barely know the man”, I was actually applauding Buckleming snark thinking they maybe briefly had a handle on how ridiculous Dean’s position in the narrative was. (Listen, this was the last 10 minutes of my innocence about how awful Buckleming could be, leave past!me alone. She’s sweet and precious and not bitter :P) In any case, a more effective season would have utilised him more to slip and slide between light and dark and explore it in much deeper detail, but balancing that with a procedural formula doesn’t work as well and they were lacking enough philosophers on staff. I think the Dabb era writing team could handle it, because Yockey, Perez, and Glynn especially, who seems to have a psychology background based on her writing, all have a sharp attention to the exact things in emotional arcs that would have made it work better, even just as it was. Since this was a weaker writing team where Robbie, Bobo and Dabb episodes were little islands of excellence and the motw were fun but more shallow even with strong foreshadowing themes, it just didn’t pay off. 

I think the biggest waste of time was “the river ends at the source” which was either Buckleming trying to introduce a concept and hoping someone else dealt with it, or an agreed plot hook which never materialised, or Metatron literally spoke the truth, that the line had only ever been written to mess with us. However 10x23 could have actually included more of a “river ends at the source” sort of slant and had Death confirm it in so many words because Amara really did sort of seem to be the answer to the question. In 10x10 it seemed like they knew where the season was going, but by 10x17 it was obvious they DIDN’T, and it was during 10x18 that the plot actually got hashed out and Robbie was handed heavy revisions to make to change the Stynes to end of season villains and the Book of the Damned was going to be used how it was. I think this is really weak plotting, as someone who always puts in fun lines and then attempts like crazy to pay off on them. My first novel has the line “you can’t talk to me yet” and I play through that the whole book until they CAN talk and make it a major motif, goal and in the end try to explain it as best I can about how it’s all plot relevant and why using that for tension to put off the explanations and such was a valid thing to throw at my main character, and then the springboard to more adventure when she was ready for it. I literally do not understand putting a portentous line into your story, and not becoming desperately eager to answer it or twist something into revealing how it all fits at the end, if not basing your entire story off of it. Sam and Dean seemed wildly uncurious about how to apply that or what it means. 

In season 6 one of the more frustrating things is the “it’s all about the souls” line because Dean fails to investigate until someone or other rolls their eyes and makes it all clear to him. But we get a few more reminders in Cas’s presence, until we find out his plan, and Crowley repeats that line in 6x20 when making his sales pitch to Cas, if I’m remembering rightly (I hope so :/) and so despite Dean’s infuriating lack of investigation (not that he had a great deal of leads, but still - you could build a plot around it by GIVING him a lead, he’s the fictional character and you’re the writer :P) at the very least they repeat the motif in at least 6x17 and 6x20 to my memory, before the souls thing becomes a lot more obvious about Cas taking the purgatory souls and we’re allowed to actually discuss what he’s up to instead of the vague hints Atropos and Rachel give that they know his plans. 6x07 also hints early on that Purgatory is full of monster souls if you add it all up - the writers knew they were doing SOMETHING with this even if it took to the end of the season for it to all come together. (And that’s something that’s clearly and overarcing plot that Gamble oversaw because she wrote 6x11 and the line then appears in multiple episodes around the place, so that’s not just something Edlund tidied up but an actual effort to write the season well.)

Throwing aside the “river ends at the source” line is wildly frustrating because it wouldn’t have been too hard to apply it thematically and even keep Metatron being a douche while giving the viewer a pay off anyway for our own satisfaction, by showing it had been a theme all along anyway. You CAN squint at season 10 and analyse it through that lens but it’s exhausting when the show doesn’t give us the themes on a platter. It also shows that the plotting is careless and they’re experimenting, and rather than working with what they have, this is in a path of episodes where they’re discarding some plotlines, and we’re beginning to have end of season plotlines hastily pasted onto the end of the season, but they make very little of any of the work already done to build up the season as we’d seen it so far.

Add onto that Charlie being murdered for manpain to motivate some things into action and all the random elements being used, and the sense that Crowley, Cas and Rowena all abruptly ran out of a plotline that had been intended to utilise them and put on a side character duty away from Sam and Dean, the season is extremely messily and carelessly written, and without any real attention to detail to its own themes and characters and plotlines. Even if they’d gone into the season not particularly expecting where to go, they brought a lot to the table early on but then quickly wiped a lot of it off, and brought a lot more stuff to the table instead, which makes season 10 a really wonky, unfinished feeling product as a thing on its own, and the overall story is scrappy and carelessly plotted.

And that is speaking just about the easy plot stuff without getting into the absolute mess of speculation from the Destiel side of fandom wondering wtf was going on with the seeming build up to crypt scenes, colette, the grace cure, etc, that made up the bulk of the speculation but makes actually analysing expectations vs presented product completely impossible to evaluate on that side of things because as always Destiel speculation really overshoots what is expected and was really running wild at that point. I mean, not being judgemental because that was the year I was right in the thick of it. 3 years clear of it now, some of it seems really silly, but those 3 things all seemed clearly built up to our eyes, and we got the reverse crypt scene we’d been expecting since before the season started, and we got the Colette reference which slotted Cas firmly into place as a reminder of how Cain’s peeps lined up against Dean’s, as well as Cas asking Dean to stop, which satisfied the terms and conditions of Dean resisting walking in Cain’s footsteps with the overall set up of the scene. With the way Cas got his grace back and then some other rando cure popped up where Rowena of all people made the sacrifice, I really can’t help feeling like the conspiracy theorist who knows they were right but with the way it all shook out, only people who knew the conspiracy would understand how it didn’t happen and it’s very hard for me to look at that and say that some non-Cas-related cure was coming all along, given the conspicuous dropping of one plotline sort of day of picking up the next >.> But I’ll cede that from my position I might be a bit compromised on that one. 

Anyways. To me season 10 is a disaster that only season 11 really justifies, while season 6 has some truly low points but in the end the actual writing skill hauls it through so that it creates the illusion that there was consistency, if you ignore everything outside of the text suggesting it may have been as poorly planned as season 10. Planning isn’t everything - it’s what you do when confronted with the unplanned wire tangle in front of you that really marks how well they were written, and just shoving it under the table and putting a new wire tangle down vs actually unpicking it and making them as neat as possible? Gamble slam dunks Carver :P

#Asks #season 10 #we don't talk about season 6

[astereaholloway]

- ̗̀ * ( sophie turner + cisfemale + she/her ) have you seen ( aster holloway ) walking around campus ? they are a ( twenty-one ) year old, studying ( botany + entomology ). we hear they are in ( theta sigma eta ), and can be ( opinionated & daunting ), maybe it’s because they are an ( aries ). they sort of remind us of ( abandoned greenhouses, spinning bike wheels , iridescent pocket knives ), maybe we can find out more ! *  ̖́-  + habitat

i yeet’d holliday for this child o’ mine pls love her bc i love her sm i’ll prolly change her fc to sophie turner as soon as i get tired of cropping gifs of saoirse but enjoy her face for now sksksk. like this n i’ll come to u!!

tw: fire, death, cancer, etc. etc.

gen. info

full name: aster holloway

nickname(s): n/a, give her one n she’ll cut you probably

b.o.d. - april 1st.

label(s): the hellcat, the minefield, the connard, etc. etc.

height: probably like 5′7″ or 5′8″ tbh

hometown: inglewood, california

sexuality: chaotic. lesbian.

bio. info

hasn’t had the most......stable, life

born to dahlia verbeck, a botanist, wildlife conservationist, and volunteer firefighter whose presence was very well known in south california’s environmental scene

to keep a long story short, she married maverick holloway; a sleazy low-rank cop with a smoking problem and an obnoxious personality when she was 19. he was nearly twice her age. nobody knows why she married him, or why she tolerated him

the relationship was by no means abusive, but it was lackluster

this led to dahlia having a one night stand, and baba boom baba bing, aster was conceived

 the only one who knew that the child wasn’t maverick’s was dahlia’s twin brother, donovan, whose career was p much the exact same as dahlia’s

they were basically both mad scientists; when dahlia started slacking because of her pregnancy, donovan would kick it up

like ykno the twin scientists in bioshock infinite ?? that them like they were eerily alike, always finishing each other’s sentences. nightmare fuel.

the only difference was that donovan was considerably less intense than dahlia b/c dahlia was the kinda lass who would set fire to your car

anywAYs so aster was born and everything was fine n dandy until she got a lil older and it suddenly became clear that this child was absolutely not maverick’s at all because they looked. nothing alike. like u know when u can just tell ?? yeah. yeah u could tell

maverick left dahlia afterwards and it was essentially up to her to raise aster alone. donovan had his own wife and kid to take care of and sort of backed down from his career to do so. house dads ftw

aster grew up knowing her dad as some ‘deadbeat no good’ simply bc dahlia was bitter

also grew up as the kid who would hold worms over another kid’s face and taunt them w/ it. so like, playground bully. that was aster. she’s not ashamed of it

she was often left on her own to do her own kinda shit b/c her mom was always busy out in nature n’ shit but aster never minded; loved her mom a Lot

aster’s life changed when she was nine

her mother had been doing research out in the ~wilderness~ with donovan, after months of convincing him of doing this one last project with her~ when the wildfires started

it spread so fast, and they were already too far away from the road

it took them two months to confirm that the twins were dead

rather than leave aster to maverick, elaine--donovan’s wife--took her under her wing and moved across the country to boston alongside myra, her daughter

elaine always held a resentment towards aster because of her mother, but never did anything about it--it was just always, sorta, implied ?

but myra and aster got along swimmingly despite being polar opposites

aster was p much a feral child, and myra had been receiving etiquette lessons since birth, practically--like, literally

elaine put them in the same hobbies but aster always found ways to be wildly different from the ~standard~

myra learned cello and flute, aster started up on bass and drums (breaking both instruments, repeatedly, for many years)

elaine forced dance onto the both of them, and whilst they both excelled at ballet--aster switched over to a more free-flowing dance as soon as she was able to

(that and when elaine tried to put aster in sports instead of dance--figuring her fiery nature would be put to good use--aster managed to get kicked off of every single team of every single sport she tried b/c of her aggression. theyve had to fight a few lawsuits after aster’s broken a number of noses and sporting equipments)

myra was learning two languages, aster? dyslexic and could barely read english as it was; science made sense to her, however. plants? especially.

people confused myra and aster for twins nearly all the damn time, despite only being cousins, they were so alike and yet so opposite

that was, of course, until they got into a nasty spat when they were seventeen

it was something about dead parents and resentments and yadda yadda; it didn’t end well

aster wound up running away......all the way back to los angeles.

n i mean like......homegirl literally managed to run away across the gd country w/o getting caught or murdered

by the time she arrived in los angeles her aunt was sort of like ‘fuck it ur almost 18′ b/c....aster was nearly 18 by the time she arrived in the city, and elaine contacted maverick who in which found aster

aster did not want to go with him, after hearing stories about him just being no-good

but at that point, maverick was one of los angeles’ head detectives with a beautiful apartment and a beautiful wife and a beautiful dog and just kind of living his best life ?? after dahlia’s death he had really cleaned himself up y’kno

aster still kind of resented him but that was more of an inner thing

anyways she started attending ucla b/c her mother attended ucla, but her mother wasn’t a part of a sorority

it was one of those spur of the moment decisions and like nobody knows how aster ended up in theta sigma eta b/c she’s like a grumpy grandmother

but like she dun’ did that

we stan

a year ago maverick was diagnosed w cancer and has been in the hospital battling it ever since, aster is admittedly effected by it but like would never tell anybody ever

she doesn’t really tell anybody anything about her life, like, it’s a gd mystery

uuuuuuuuh aster works in a floral shop as a florist and grows her own shit ranging from fruits, vegetables, weed, shrooms, uh opium poppies yeah she Does that

it’s organic n fresh n shit like the devil works hard but aster works harder

she doesn’t really ~sell~ too often b/c she’s kinda selfish w her stash but it’s some top notch shit when she does 

no she doesn’t grow in the floral shop she’s not Stupid

aster inherited some of her mother’s properties Out There so she drives up almost everyday to take care of her plants

uuuhh fun fact, aster’s part of a dance like...company, kind of? but not really ? outside of ucla b/c she hates being involved in school shit besides habitat for humanity

personality

v v v harsh tbh

she won’t beat around the bush, usually...brutally honest, tbh?

like lbr she’s kind of a bitch too

just v offputting at first b/c she tells it like how it is n doesn’t rly care abt ur problems

doesn’t go around lookin’ for new friends but if you’re tight w her then she’ll probably die for u like she’s v loyal

but if u wrong her like even once she’ll drop u and treat u like right shit

she either feels intensely or nothing at all n that’s like. smth u have to deal w/

she’s v v v chaotic neutral, bordering evil--really works in her own favors

became a botanist after her mother bc she admired her mother more than anybody else

not saying that being vegan is a personality trait

but

aster’s a vegan

n just super hardcore into saving the earth n shit?

litter and she’ll break ur nose, basically

v into sustainable living n shit. rides her bicycle everywhere if she can, rly rarely drives, doesn’t do fast fashion at ALL

v v passionate, will argue w/ u until u admit she’s right even if she’s painfully wrong

like super stubborn, v opinionated, assumes the worst of u immediately

a lil cynical, but is more realist than pessimist

BIG FUCKING GAY

like so gay

she’s not Out-Out but she definitely doesn’t hide it, just doesn’t think it’s necessary to be like ‘im gay’ every 5 minutes n doesn’t think it’s necessary to let ppl kno she’s gay b/c shes just like....its my business

kinda bitch to flirt w dudes for fun in order to lead them on, get them to do things for her, etc. etc. just to disappoint in the end

this is big dumbass energy b/c that’s how u get stabbed

unless aster stabs u first

kinda gal who’ll key ur car if u piss her off during a class debate, but will also stick thumb tacks into ur wheels n shit too

like.....i said she’s spiteful, right? b/c she can b so spiteful

really, genuinely, has no regard for other ppl’s feelings

her music taste is either heavy rock or straight up like grimes/die antwoord there is no in between (prolly listens to billie eilish tho)

owns a pet tarantula n yes she has it in her dorm n Yes she brings it out n plays w it n shit her name is stevie nicks n u better respect her

big slut

would never cheat on u but also probably wouldn’t date u in the first place bc she’s scared of like....being in a relationship b/c all of hers are p much on the rocks

probably carries around a pocket knife at all times

probably bought said pocket knife from a dude in an alleyway for like $5 

myra also goes to ucla and theyre 100% still not speaking but that’s bc they’re both too stubborn to go to each other but like lbr aster misses her cousin

v unruly, nvr brushes her hair, usually got dirt on her clothes bc she’s prolly been digging in gardens or stealing flowers or some shit

bright side is tht she always smells like flowers

theta sigma eta is lucky b/c she cooks her own meals w her own fresh veggies n shit n she always makes too much food n like ? so good

but anyways she’s also got like no manners okay she’s so impolite

uuuuuuh god i dunno what else

wanted connections

ride or die

other friends of varying closeness

ex-friends ???

...like somebody she’s into but also...not into? v conflicted feelings

on-and-off-agains bc their relationship is awful n probably toxic but it just. hurt so good

ex-gfs

ex-hookups

boys she’s led on

boys she’s currently leading on

flirtatious encounter gone wrong [not clickbait] ??

enemies

enemies but gone sexual [not clickbait]

buyers of her products - either weed, shrooms, or opium teehee

roommate

give her somebody she was a uwu soft crush on but would nvr do anything abt bc gross romance !!

alternately, unrequited crushes of any sorts

fellow gays b/c gays always end up knowing each other

party pals

frenemies ??

sdfgh give me her dad’s trophy wife pleathe....it’d be so funny

childhood friends tht knew her b4 she moved to boston so like...ages 0-9

childhood friends tht knew her after she moved to boston so like...ages 9-17

or acquaintances bc she was....a mean one

A TUTOR just b/c she can rly struggle w her dyslexia

#uclas:intro