#//was too much of a hassle to try and get that tv filter on in that clip so pretend the perspective is from sam's side idk
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I'm not supposed to return, but I've been catching stray answers you've been giving. Don't want to give much away but let it be known, I am eager to hear more about "Jade" and the "mysterious dissaperances that made headlines". From your perspective, how did everything play out? Any comments on "Sonny" and their actions?
-🦋Interloper
"..."
"well..."
"i guess you have a right to know what went down that led me to how i am now. and how sonny got here, too..."
"i think he thought it was gonna be a standard procedure. he'd already done it successfully two whole times before, so..."
"yeah... i, uh... didn't take very well to the process."
"don't know if he got careless, o-or if i was more difficult to patch than he thought i'd be, but after everything that made me, me, was gone, and 'sam' was crammed in..."
"my brain rejected it like a virus. hurt like hell. two sets of personalities, two sets of memories, one synthetic, one biological, forcefully mashed into one..."
"it's that dissonance that hurts so bad. feels like your skull is being split in two."
"i gave him hell..."
"...and then some."
"don't know exactly how i did it, but somehow... i dragged that furry fucker in with me. my working theory is that i overloaded his soul-sucking piece of shit rra equipment and made it go haywire, and he was just a smidge too close to it all. serves him right..."
#interloper.user#weirdsil.user#01000110001000000100111100100000010101010010000001001110001000000100010000100000001000000101100100100000010011110010000001010101#look.again#truthhurts//#//was too much of a hassle to try and get that tv filter on in that clip so pretend the perspective is from sam's side idk
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Spooks
Raymond Wadsworth X Female Reader
Summary: Raymond starts sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong at the next haunting he’s investigating.
A/N: Hey heyyy- here’s my second fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April 2021!!! I had this spur of the moment idea in the middle of the night and ended up writing a pretty long fic for it (at least long for me lol) I had a lot of fun writing it and really liked the idea- I hope you all enjoy it too! Drop something in my ask box here if you’d like!! I’m always looking for feedback and my requests are open as well! Thanks for reading!!!
Warnings: 18+, Ghosts & poltergeists, Smut, Sub Raymond, Unprotected sex, Sex in a car, Slight cum play
Main Masterlist Word count: 3.2k
Your job description wasn’t an easy one to describe, you could say Mulder and Scully would be the most accurate equivalent. Though as with all tv shows it was portrayed with a set of rose tinted glasses, giving a filter to any realities you faced on the job.
You and your department preferred to call yourselves spooks, truthfully only because the pun was funny. In reality your 8 person department were called agents just like the rest of the FBI, you guys were just more secretive than the others.
Most of the time you ended up getting handed the short straw when getting new cases as you were still the newest on the team, despite being there for several years already. Unlike most professionals in law enforcement you did not have a partner, it only slowed you down. Every place that you were scheduled to decontaminate was an in and out procedure streamlined for effectiveness, adding another body to be hyper vigilant about was a hassle. You operated alone.
Any type of paranormal phenomena that you could think of was thrown in front of you. In your opinion the cases you had the most fun on were the ones that dealt with aliens, though some ghosts could be fun on occasion. The most recent case I had to deal with was a nasty poltergeist, the worst type of ghost. They always wreaked the most havoc on whatever house or place they occupied.
The family in this house had moved out a while ago, the request to decontaminate the home had been sitting on one of your supervisors for a while. It was an old house, built around the late 1800s. Old enough that it had a bunch of unnecessary rooms, like the parlor room that you found yourself trapped in.
And, you weren’t on your own either. Trapped with you was a man with fluffy brown hair flying in any direction, his eyes a darker shade of brown that were filled with fear- yet also curiosity. He was wearing a blue romper, it looked good on him, from what you had seen while you were frantic. But, you highly doubted that it would be effective clothes for a paranormal investigation, maybe he had just stumbled across this place out of curiosity. Either that or he was the type of an inexperienced investigator who had probably had one encounter with a ghost. It did not change that he was cute though.
“I’m a paranormal investigator- uhh technically a supernatural detective! My name’s Raymond! Who are you?!” He sputtered out, ranting probably to try to push aside his fear. You were standing side by side holding the double doors of the entrance to the parlor room, pushing them down to prevent the poltergeist from ramming it down and attacking us.
“Not important!” You snapped back at him, throwing a glare at him. Even if it wasn’t such a tense situation, you weren’t supposed to give away your identity or your job description to just anyone.
With another gasping breath he asked another question, even though you hadn’t answered his first inquiry, “I came with a girl, her name’s Becca- did you see her?”
This one you would bother to answer as he was quite obviously worried about the well being of his companion, “I may have seen her speed away in a red car after she was thrown out of the house. Was that your car she took?”
Not that you really cared all that much, but if he had been stripped of his transportation by his partner you’d have to take him in your own car. Not that you really wanted to, you still would have to help him even though he was seriously hindering your decontamination. “No, I came in my own car.” He answered which made you breathe a sigh of relief, you wouldn’t have to deal with another issue after you escaped, “I don’t blame her honestly, if I could leave I would.”
You were about to answer when your pressure on the doors wasn’t enough, making you both stumble forward. When you stumbled forward your keys, along with your badge, fell out of your pocket. Your badge flipped open front and center to reveal your name, plus the exact agency you worked for in a bold logo.
“You’re an FBI agent?!” You could not confirm or deny what he had asked, you were firmly focused on scrambling to get your things and avoid the ghost that was now throwing furniture at the two of you.
When Raymond finally took notice of the being that was pelting heavy objects around you, a ghostly shape in the form of a woman with a tortured look on her face, he screamed bloody murder. It was not unlike that of a scooby doo cartoon, him obviously resembling Shaggy almost perfectly. If only he had a dog to jump into his arms before he comically zoomed away while remarking “zoinks!”
His frazzled response to the ghosts giving a rather mediocre jump scare made you wonder whether he had the credentials to back up his job title as a paranormal investigator- or as he called it a supernatural detective. You racked your brain to try and recall anytime you had seen a Raymond or a Becca on the long lists of people that were being monitored for potential involvement, coming up with nothing. Well, maybe they were new, as his reaction seemed to indicate.
Your own reaction was stoic as usual, your nerves no longer jumped and your heart no longer quickened to the visage of a ghost trying to spook you. It was in no doubt for some arcane reason probably linked to revenge towards people that no longer existed. One would normally say don’t assume anything about people, that it might offend them to assume, but dead people in your view also had dead opinions- plus relying on precedent was usually a good option when a ghost might be trying to kill you. Despite the absence of fear from you there would be no call out of “Let’s split up gang!” either. It was you mostly not wanting to explain to your employer how you lost a citizen in the middle of this place and- besides that you couldn’t deny that you didn’t want him to die no matter how much undeniable extra trouble he was causing.
“Let’s go.” Your voice was firm, no discernible room for argument or questions.
Raymond somehow found a way to wriggle in to asking yet another question, “Where are we going?”
You yanked his hand out of the room that you think might’ve been a parlor room back in it’s day. You shouldn’t have bothered to answer as it would breed more questions from him, you already gave away too much about who you are and what you do. Any extra questions you answer from him was just creating a bigger breach in your security. Yet you found yourself justifying an answer, his eyes that were probably pulled into an adorable curious look laced with fear bored into the back of your skull as you dragged him out of the room and to the nearest exit. It was only a harmless question, it didn’t even have a satisfying answer, “Anywhere but here!”
Weaving my way through the house that was better characterized as a maze was hard to navigate through. At every turn some sort of iteration of the poltergeist tried to capture us, to pull us into death with it.
The two of us did eventually find the front door, only to find that we could not pull it open, the handle was stuck.
“Step back!” You shouted at Raymond to get him to move out of the way while you prepared to kick the door down. He skittered over to be right behind you, looking over his shoulder in paranoia. You used your right foot to kick the door, using all the leg strength you could muster. After three kicks, the door burst open, letting you both free.
Scurrying quickly to your government given work vehicle, looking back for a second to make sure that Raymond was following you. You couldn’t let a civilian die here, no matter how much of a nuisance he was, and he was cute of course.
Pulling out the last resort from the trunk of your car, gasoline, you then shoved a container of it to your unexpected companion.
“Cover as much of the house as you can!” He made no argument with your plan, running right behind you back up to the house to cover it all in gasoline. Once you had both covered it as much as possible you made sure Raymond was standing back before you lit your lighter and chucked it into the wood wet with the accelerant.
As soon as you could confirm with your eyes that the house had sparked with fire, you grabbed Raymond’s arm again to drag him to your car, not even caring about the one he had come here in. You basically threw yourself into the driver's seat, starting to drive away immediately after Raymond had sat down, before he had even shut the side door.
Adrenaline was coursing through your veins, causing your heart to pound hard enough that it felt like it could burst out of your chest. It was not unusual in your field of work, to feel death brush right by you.
“My car?!” Raymond screamed, his body turned so he was looking out of your back window.
“Sorry no time to go back! The U.S government will reimburse you for that- maybe…” You said quickly, while trying to step harder down on the gas pedal to speed away.
The house behind you was burning so bright from you could hear the crackling from the house turning to ash. You imagined that the flames and smoke were big enough to be seen for miles, considering how much accelerant you poured on it. So much for being subtle, your boss was definitely going to chew you out for that.
When you had gained a sufficient enough distance away from the flames you pulled off into a parking lot adjacent to a park. Pulling into the parking space fast you then hit the brakes hard, jostling you two a bit.
Taking a deep breath you slumped forward to rest your head on your steering wheel, just for a moment of relaxation.
“You know burning it down won’t necessarily get rid of it.” You only grunted in response to his matter of fact statement. Your lack of response seemed to make him even more anxious, tapping his fingers on any surface that was around him to preoccupy his mind while you took your breather. He tried to fill the silence that was making him uncomfortable, “So what do you actually do?”
You sighed deeply against the steering wheel one last time, then leaning off of it to sit back in the seat. You decided that you might as well give him a small morsel of information that may satiate his curiosity, “That’s highly classified, but you could probably figure it out.”
His insistence to bring up what your job is was making your insides twist with anxiety. You were already dreading what would happen when you got back to the office. It would be a lot of paperwork to explain everything that happened, plus you’d have to submit an application on behalf of Raymond to get his car reimbursed.
The adrenaline that had spiked in your veins born out of fear was still present. It was overwhelming, and you felt the need to use it for something different than wallowing in your fear.
You redirected your gaze to fixate on Raymond, who could surely help you redirect your adrenaline. He was an attractive man, who’s personality did help make him even more desirable. Even though he was a pain in your ass, he was a cute and funny one.
His own eyes were fixated on yours as well, with a different look than what you had seen earlier. His eyes were deepened with lust, not fear, though there was still an ounce of curiosity in them- probably still wondering who exactly I was.
Grabbing the hairs at the back of his neck you then pulled him forward to crush your lips onto his. He reciprocated immediately, though did not try to challenge your dominance over the kiss. He let you slip your tongue into his mouth, exploring him with diligence.
You wanted him closer to you, feeling every inch of him. So you swung your legs over his lap as best you could with the space you had to straddle him. When you did so you barely let his lips come off your own, too greedy to let them separate from yours.
A thought however was nagging you in the back of your head as you continued to melt yourself into the kiss, he had mentioned a companion that he had been worried about earlier. You did not want to step on any toes, nor endorse any type of cheating. You separated your lips from his own, even though you wanted nothing more than to envelop him in another kiss.
“This ok with you?” Your words were said right into his lips, mingling your breath with his, “You’re not with that Becca girl are you?”
“Not anymore- and yes I’m totally ok with this.” He confirmed before surging up to meet his lips with your own again. You wasted no time in starting to grind your hips onto his cock that was swiftly growing underneath his shorts. Just from grinding you could feel how large he was, even through a couple of layers.
He moved his hands to the button of your pants when you moved your lips to start nipping and sucking on his neck and jaw. You tried to kick off the articles of clothing on your lower half, panties included, without removing your lips from him. Unfortunately you had to do so because of the amount of space. You cursed under your breath, wishing that the government had paid to give you a larger vehicle.
You were already slick with arousal, also aided by sticking your fingers into his mouth to get them sufficiently wet. He bobbed his head up and down on them eagerly until you were satisfied. Removing them from his mouth you ran them up and down along your slit, getting you even more wet.
You guided his length to your entrance, not sinking down immediately. You undulated your hips so his length was coated with your arousal as well. When he bucked his hips in impatience you just pushed them down back into the seat. Then you leaned down to whisper into the shell of his ear to be patient- he’d get what he wanted.
“Fuck me.” Was all Raymond could muster up to whimper when you sunk down onto his cock, his head falling back to hit the headrest. You wasted no time in starting a fast pace, bouncing up and down on him with vigor. Raymond grabbed onto your hips when he couldn’t find anything else to hold onto, digging his fingers into your hips hard enough to leave bruises.
His large cock bumped up against your cervix in the most pleasurable way possible as you swivel your hips over him. Your own head tilted back, your mouth opened wide to let out a loud moan when his cock hit a particularly pleasurable spot inside you. You also felt the need to hold onto something as your release began to build inside you, getting ready to snap. So you grabbed onto the best thing you could find, running your hands through his hair and pulling on his strands.
One of his hands then moved to toy with your clit,his movements were a bit fumbled, but it swiftly made your orgasm start to crest. You were almost disappointed about how quickly this was going to be over, you however couldn’t deny that it felt amazing even with the frantic pace. In the back of your mind you couldn’t help but imagine all the other things you could do to Raymond if you were given the chance.
You fell apart above him, your eyes rolling back into your head. The adrenaline still coursed through your veins, and it felt good to have it redirected to a pleasurable experience instead of fear. You kept yourself impaled on his cock for a bit after your orgasm had finished, relishing at the feeling of him inside you.
Slipping out of him was a little bit awkward because of how cramped the space was. Once his cock slipped out of you, both of you groaning at the loss of him inside of you, you wrapped your hand around his length. You started to pump him slowly in your hands, taking your time compared to earlier. Your adrenaline had abated a bit and now you wanted to see how long you could drag this out, in case you never got the chance to again.
However, It still didn’t take much movement from your hands for him to get close, he was already close to the edge from being inside you. His hips bucked up into your hands a bit before he begged, “C-can you put- your hands- around my throat?”
“Should’ve known you’d be into that.” You snarked back a bit in response to his plea. Your tone had no sympathy for him, making him obviously think that you weren’t going to oblige him by the look in his eyes. That look of pure desperation in his eyes, with his kiss swollen lips, and his curls disheveled made you buckle. He groaned loudly when you put your free hand around his neck. You only applied a small amount of pressure, but that was all Raymond needed for him to cum all over your hand.
Once you had helped him ride out his own orgasm you removed your hand from his neck and his cock. You did need to clean up the hand that was covered in his thick ropes of cum, so you brought it up to your mouth to lick it clean.
“Fuck me…” Echoing his previous words, this time with an even bigger whimper. After you had cleaned yourself and him up enough to be decent you flung yourself back to sit in the driver’s seat again.
Raymond was silent for a minute, which seemed odd if you were going off of what little experience you had with him so far. Though maybe he was still going through his post orgasm relaxation just as you were. He then broke the silence, by asking the same question again, even though you had wanted to answer it just about 30 minutes ago. You’d bet money on the reason that he kept asking, being that each time that you answered you gave him a small hint, “Will you tell me now what you actually do?”
“Maybe- if you get to know me better.” You turned the key to start the engine again then asking with another hint as to what your job was, “Consider this your lucky day, you’ve got a spook as your chauffeur. Now, where next Raymond?”
—-
Tag lists (message me if you want to be added):
All works: @shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith
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#raymond wadsworth x reader#raymond wadsworth#matthew gray gubler x reader#suburban gothic fanfic#matthew gray gubler#suburban gothic#raymond wadsworth smut#matthew gray gubler smut#mgg#mgg x reader#30 fics in 30 days
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63 with Wilbur and Techno. Bonus if it's a flashback to their childhood after wilbur's death.
Hi yes I write things I swear
So the second part of the request is more directly implied than outright stated so oops but yeah! Also this takes place in some modern AU because the SMP is tiring me
all that’s dead and gone and passed tonight
TW: swearing, major character death (already dead not- they are just grieving)
Techno felt like he was watching himself in a painting, a shitty, hazy painting. One where the artist got frustrated and gave up halfway through, smearing the paint up and down and across the canvas in rage.
He couldn’t focus- the smudges on his glasses were distracting and unwanted tears building up in his eyes were blurring the words on his assignments together.
The sky was screaming, the wind whipped at the trees and slapped at the house, thunder shook the clouds and lightning slipped through the cracks. It was raining so hard Techno couldn’t see out his window.
Sharp and painful feelings that he tried so hard to crush were bubbling up along with tears in his eyes- he couldn’t do this. He had at least 3 assignments due at midnight and 2 missing ones that he couldn’t find the motivation to do, he should probably shower, he felt gross- and the rain made him think of Wilbur-
Oh god Wilbur.
If Wilbur were here he’d make Techno take a break after teasing him for awhile, hanging upside down on Techno’s bed and commenting on his fantastic posture.
He jammed his hands in his hair, nails getting caught on the tangles and coating his hands with grease, pulling and digging his fingers into his scalp. This was the last thing he wanted to think about was Wilbur- fuck- his stupid fucking hair was getting in the way.
Phil had tried to get him to take care of it again but even brushing his hair felt like a hassle and Wilbur wasn’t there to braid it. Techno knew how to braid and care for his own hair- but Wilbur would always do it- he used to.
His chest was tight- ribs mending together and crushing his lungs- no he had to focus- just get these assignments done- the thunder cracked outside again.
Tears burned his face, he was tired, so tired, he knew he didn’t have the right to be but he was- he went to grab his pencil only to accidentally jerk at his hair again.
He snapped, shoving his papers and books off the desk, jumping up so fast his chair fell over.
Techno pushed his door open and stomped into the bathroom, rummaging through the drawers in the dark like a mad man, washcloths and toothbrushes and bandaids being shoved aside until he found the scissors.
He grabbed a chunk of his hair- yanking it so he could see it better- and lined the scissors up. He paused, tears clouding his vision to the point where he could barely see himself- did he really want to get rid of it? Of something that took so long to grow- something Wilbur liked so much?
His eyes flickered to the small nightlight on the wall.
He bit his tongue and sliced through his hair.
Iron filled his mouth as he threw his hair on the floor, snipping wildly at the other parts, ripping them away, feeling the jagged ends brush against his face and neck.
Techno dropped the scissors, he stumbled out of the bathroom and back towards his room- it felt unfamiliar but homey at the same time- it smelled like dust and ink.
He collapsed on the already made bed, it was soft and enveloped in him in a cool but familiar sheet of grief.
He wrapped his arms around the pillow, that smelled like the shampoo that Wilbur had insisted on using, holding it to his chest, and somehow fell asleep.
“You’ve been sitting there for the last 3 hours, I thought you’d be finished by now.” Wilbur commented, flopping down on Techno’s bed.
“Shut up.”
Wilbur snorted, “You’re in a mood.”
Techno gripped his pencil tighter, “Go away- I’m busy.”
“You’ve said that a lot recently-”
“Cause I’ve been busy so fuck off!”
Wilbur rolled off the bed, setting his hand on Techno’s shoulder, “You need a break-”
“I need to finish this project-”
“It’s due on Monday, you’ll still have the rest of the weekend to finish it, now come on, we’re going on a walk.”
“But it’s raining,”
“So? That’s what makes it fun, besides it's basically summer so it’s warm.”
Techno let Wilbur drag him out of his room, past Tommy who was passed out on the couch with the TV blaring, and through the kitchen towards the garage.
“Leave your shoes.”
“What?”
“Walking barefoot in the rain feels much better than with shoes, now come on! You’re so slow!”
They walked out of the garage and were immediately pelted with fat drops of water as the sky dumped buckets on them. Wilbur grinned and they continued down the driveway and down the sidewalk.
Techno felt like an idiot, walking in the rain in shorts and a t-shirt with his twin, but strangely, he didn’t mind it. Wilbur closed his eyes and put his head back, smiling widely, letting the rain hit his face and drench his hair.
Barely anybody was out, Techno could see faint light filtering from other peoples windows but the streets were clear, he watched leaves and twigs get swept down the little rivers that ran down the curb every time it rained.
Wilbur grabbed his hands suddenly, spinning them around, Techno was barely able to stop himself from falling.
“What-”
“Come on Tech! Move your feet, get your blood flowing!” Wilbur twisted them around again, laughing. His laugh was like little drops of sunlight in the sea.
Techno snorted, trying to keep up with Wilbur’s rapid pace.
They spun themselves at a shitty old field by the middle school, where the buses would park over the summer and the people would let their dogs run. The asphalt was gray and cracked, huge potholes filled with water and pebbles.
Wilbur pulled him along, urging him to go faster, until they were running. They ran through the puddles, splashing muddy water on their legs. Techno ran and ran, feeling the wind in his hair that was simultaneously sticking to his forehead, his feet hit the ground so hard he thought they might bleed but he finally felt like he wasn’t wrapped in a foggy haze.
Wilbur nearly tripped twice and Techno couldn’t see out of his glasses but for the first time in months he felt like he could breathe.
Eventually they went back home, creeping through the house Techno went to get changed and dry himself off, once he did he sat back down to work on his project again. Only for Wilbur to poke his head through the door, droplets of water still clinging to his hair.
“Oh no you don’t, I just got you to loosen up, you gotta stay loose. Come here,”
“I really should be working-”
“Shut up and let me braid your hair.”
Techno found himself in Wilbur’s room sipping a cup of hot chocolate, curled up on the bed with Wilbur running his fingers through his hair, sectioning it off for braids.
It was still pouring outside, rain pattering against the window, the ceiling fan creaked and rattled mixing in with the TV’s soft melody of a cheesy old show Techno hadn’t seen in years. The multicolored Christmas lights Wilbur had taped to the wall were glowing softly but still brighten the room.
When Wilbur finished the last braid he leaned against his twin, his hot chocolate forgotten on the desk, “Stay the night with me?” He asked quietly, “It’ll be just like old times.”
Techno nodded and Wilbur laid his head on his shoulder, just like old times.
Phil had been worried when he woke muffled thumps and bangs coming from the hall but after quickly investigating found that they were safe.
He felt the panic flare up again for a moment when he peered in and saw Techno wasn’t in his room and it was in complete disarray but relaxed when he found him in Wilbur’s room, curled up, fast asleep.
He wondered if he should wake him and ask if he was alright but ultimately stopped himself, he couldn’t do that to him, even in the dim light Techno looked more at peace then he had in months.
It had been months since Wilbur died and Phil’s chest burned everyday, there was a piece missing from his home, his heart, his family, he lost his songbird.
He knew it affected his other sons too, Tommy flipped between loud fits of rage and sadness, screaming or sobbing softly, while Techno was barely managing to scrape by as human.
Wilbur and Tommy were close but Wilbur and Techno had been by each other's sides since birth.
He remembered Wilbur refusing to leave Techno’s side when he was sick and how Techno never missed one of his concerts. The paper crowns and crudely made flags and swords as they decided they were the most fearsome duo that would conquer the land one day.
They never got that far.
Phil knew Techno tried to put on a brave front but it was cracking, piece by piece, baggy eyes, slipping grades, and forgetting to eat. He had tried to help but nothing seemed to be working, Techno was slipping into a husk of himself.
Wilbur may have been in a casket but any fool could see Techno was the dead one.
#owo got sad and wrote some fluff and some pain#twin Wilbur and techno has my heart#mcyt#wilbur soot#philza#technoblade#fanfiction#fanfic#Apples Writing#hurt no comfort#fluff#dreams#asks#answered#sleepyblr#sleepyboysinc#family AU#family dynamic#family feels
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Missing Home
I’m re-posting in hopes to fix the format issue I have with the last one.
Connor missed you. There was no easy way to put it. He wanted to hold you in his arms, hear your voice, taste your lips. He wanted you to explain some of the jokes the other human detectives told. Hank finds the constant barrage of questions exhausting, but you never tired. A new exhibit had opened up at the zoo, featuring mythical animals. He wanted to see it with you.
But you weren't here.
"I have to go. I match what they're looking for and it's their best lead."
You both were sitting in the meeting room, an hour after you had been asked to go undercover in another precinct for a human/android trafficking ring. You would be working at a seedy strip club, as a bartender. Everything about this was terrible to Connor. Putting your life in peril while lecherous men tried to touch you? If he had any say, he would adamantly reject the idea, but... It was your choice. It tore him apart, wanting to support and protect, conflicting with each other.
You kept trying to reassure him, that you had back-up, that your outfit had a tracker in it, that you would not be stripping. Then one of the officers you would be working with handed you your uniform, a skimpy two-piece that only covered the essentials, then had the audacity to check you out, a wolfish grin on his face. Rage threatened to boil over. Noticing, you grabbed Connor's tie, reeling him in and kissing him hard. The officer's smile fell, and he quickly exited. You pulled back, smiling up at the android, bringing your hand up to his face and stroking his cheek with your thumb.
"I don't want you to think I want to do this. According to their data, the ring is getting bigger. It needs to be shut down." He knew you were right, that innocent lives were at stake, but that doesn't mean he has to like it. "I have to leave for debriefing tomorrow, but why don't we have some fun tonight? We can do whatever you like." You ran your hands up his stomach and over his chest, resting them on his shoulders under his jacket. His eyes fluttered, and for a second, he forgot everything. You were... And he was...
You took hold of his tie again, pulling him to follow.
"Let's go, lover boy."
..............
That was over three weeks ago. They had spent the whole night tangled together, relishing in the closeness. All too soon, you had to pack up and leave. You kissed him one last time, told him you love him, promised to be careful, and then you were gone.
To protect your cover, he wasn't allowed to contact you, only receiving updates through the department. Apparently, you were fine and they were getting a lot of Intel. It should only be a matter of time before they have enough evidence to raid the location. He hopes so. You'll be free to come home then.
To think, at this very moment, some drunken idiot could be hassling you, trying to grab you. You were capable of course, but how much could you do without blowing your cover? It burned him up to think you might have to 'tolerate' any of it, for the good of the mission.
He was walking home after another shift. Without any outstanding investigations, he wasn't allowed to stay after anymore. Apparently, not everyone appreciated his help, though he doesn't understand why. He only pointed out details they were missing or errors in their assessment. He wasn't rude about it, just factual. Hank gets tired of it too, though he has far more patience with him. He knows Connor isn't doing it to show him up, it's just how he was programmed. Deviancy can't fix everything.
The car has been sitting in the driveway for weeks. He just doesn't see the point in rushing home. All he does is stare at his fish or at the tv. He tries going over casework, but it just all leads to him worrying about you. Were they treating you alright at the other precinct? Were you getting enough sleep? Eating properly? Dragging his feet, he looks to the ground. This city always seems filthier without you, trash and cigarette buds littering the walkway.
This is ridiculous. He had a life before you. He had hobbies and did things... Didn't he? He put in a lot of hours at the department, that's for sure. He went home to Hank's house and took care of Sumo, listened to music and read some of Hank's old paperback novels. Everything seemed so dull then. It wasn't that he was unhappy, in fact, some of those days were the best of his life, but then you showed him he could be happier, that every day could be like the best day of his life, opening doors he didn't even know were there. He sighs, kicking an empty can.
The epitome of scientific artificial intelligence can't be left alone for five minutes.
A call flashes on his HUD, bringing his attention away from his self-pity. It was Markus.
"Hey, Connor. Are you free tonight?"
"Yes. Why?" Did they need some help at New Jericho? Or a meeting for the leaders? Maybe some legal advice?
"Wanna hang out?"
...hang out? He didn't even consider that. It's been a while since the last time they met up that wasn't on professional terms. Between his work at the DPD and Markus being the ambassador for androids, free time hasn't exactly been on the table. Still, wasn't he just griping about not being able to be left on his own? Wouldn't this just solidify that? He must have taken too long to answer, as Markus reiterated.
"There's a bar downtown that is offering drinks tailored to androids. Simon believes it would be a good way to unwind." So, Simon is going? He has no issues with Simon, but it makes him wonder.
"Who all will be attending?"
"Just the leaders."
Which means North will be there.
"I think I'll just stay at home." Markus knows his issues with the psychotic woman. Staring at fish for several hours sounds like the better option.
"North will be meeting up with a few of her friends."
"What about your image? You represent our people. It won't look good if someone were to see you acting intoxicated." Connor made it to the front of his house, sitting down on the porch steps.
"The club is for androids only. The owner has already made arrangements for us. Everything will be fine."
"Android only? I thought we were against segregation."
"Are you being difficult on purpose?"
"No." Maybe. He doesn't really feel like going out.
"Connor, I think you need this. You can't live your life working all the time. Come out with us. It'll be fun."
"I'll think about it."
"Great! We'll be there to pick you up in half an hour!"
Connor sighed, running his hand down his face. I guess he was going out tonight. He should probably feed the fish before he goes.
........
Markus showed up and eyed Connor's outfit.
"Do you own other outfits?" The RK800 was wearing his usual button-up and tie, though rather than his labeled blazer, he was wearing a brown jacket.
"Is there a problem with my attire?" It seemed adequate, just a bit casual. He adjusted his tie, to which Markus took it and pulled it off. The leader knew of Connor's ticks, and he wasn't about to spend the whole night watching him play with his tie. Connor said nothing, though he pouted a little. You bought him that tie. Still, he left it off. When it came to fashion, it seems that Markus knew best.
"I think we should go clothes shopping sometime. Are you ready?" Connor nodded, giving his friend a half-smile.
In the car, Markus and Simon sat upfront while North, Josh, and Connor sat in the back. Josh was brave enough to be the barrier between North and Connor. She still hasn't forgiven him for hunting his own people, or Jericho, or pointing a gun at Markus on stage at Hart Plaza. Connor, on the other hand, does not understand her desire for senseless violence or her hatred for all humans. Some resentment was understandable, considering her background, but she takes it to the extreme.
"So, where's Y/n? I didn't see her inside. Is she at work?" Markus asked. He met you on several occasions, watching Connor light up when you were in the vicinity. This time, however, Connor's expression darkened.
"I don't know. She's working a case. I'm not allowed to know where."
"I'm sorry to hear that, " Markus internally cringed. Not a good start to the night.
"Do you know when she'll be back?" Simon looked at Connor through the rearview mirror, seeing him cross his arms as he curled into himself.
"No."
"Well, hopefully soon."
"Way to go, killing the mood, Connor, " North smirked. It was apparent she didn't want him there any more than he did her.
"Nothing a few drinks can't fix. Let's just enjoy tonight, " Josh placated.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Connor knows how Hank struggles with his addiction. He has personally had to deal with some of the lieutenant's worst days, spewing insults one moment then adamantly apologizing for the next. With his help, Hank had cut down significantly, but he still occasionally has his bad days, like on anniversaries.
"From what I understand, it's perfectly safe. It's thirium-based with several chemicals that affect androids in a way similar to alcohol in humans. It all gets worked out through the filter, though if you drink too much, you need a way to remove the excess fluids." Simon explained.
In other words, unless an android planned on purging his system, they needed functioning genitalia. In this aspect, Connor was fortunate, as he was actually built with such a thing. It was the easiest way to remove evidence that he samples. It's all collected in his filter where it gets broken down in a specialized, biodegradable cleanser, and once a month he drains it and has to drink a bottle of said cleanser to replenish his system. When he started dating you, he upgraded so his component could have "other" functions.
It still sounded like a bad idea, but he didn't want to dampen the mood any more than he already has.
.........
The bar had reserved a private table for them in the back. North was quick to break off from the group, leaving the men to gather at the table. The music was pumping out deep bass, androids dancing together and having fun. Connor just felt out of his element. The owner, upon seeing them, sent over a round of blue liquid in shot glasses.
"Let's loosen you up!" Markus handed Connor one of the drinks, then held his shot glass up, prompting everyone else to do the same.
"To freedom!" He cheered.
"To freedom!" Simon and Josh agreed, downing their drinks. Connor hesitated. He dipped his tongue into his glass, wincing at the flavor. This seemed more like poison than a drink.
"Are you aware that some of the elements in this drink can be quite harmful to us if consumed in large quantities?" Connor asked, incredulous that they would be so willing to put that in their systems.
"Yes, but so is alcohol in humans." Markus set his glass down and a female android wearing a tight-fitting black dress took the glass and replaced it with a full one. "You don't have to, but you should try it. Live a little!"
Connor regarded the drink once more. Maybe he's being a bit over-cautious. He downed the drink, coughing as it burned down his throat. The table cheered again, patting Connor on the back. It seemed safe enough. His system didn't immediately try to purge it. He didn't feel any different either. When the next round of shots was set, he drank it down. Then, another. And another.
.........
"Have you ever met him? He's an asshole." Connor shook his head.
"But it was he who created the basis for all androids." Simon intervened.
"So, because he's the reason we exist, he's not an asshole?" The RK800 scoffed.
"According to ancient mythology, that should make him even more of an asshole," Josh added.
"What are you talking about?" Markus was walking back, or rather, stumbling back. Apparently, intoxicated Markus likes to dance.
"Kamski," Simon answered.
"Assholes." Connor and Josh answered at the same time. They all shared a laugh.
Connor drank down another shot. Was this his eighth or twelfth? He didn't know and, for the first time, he didn't care. He felt pretty good. Loose. Like his body was made of jello. He tried to join Markus on the dance floor, but when he went to stand, his gyroscope was malfunctioning and before he realized it, he was on the floor, joining in with his friends laughing as they attempted to help him back to his seat, dropping him twice and Josh fell down himself. Instead, they started talking about how much has changed in the last two years, what they hope to do in the future, and now, they were talking about when Kamski returned to Cyberlife. It might have been a good move for the company, but that didn't mean Connor trusted the man. Still, it was fun, just talking and joking.
If only the other patrons at the bar would leave him alone with his friends. There must have been a dozen women who tried to get him to dance with them or buy them a drink. Even after he explained he was in a relationship, they didn't seem to care. One even sat on his lap, which he instinctively pushed her off. She did not appreciate that.
Despite it all, the atmosphere was light and jovial. Connor was glad he went out. This was significantly better than sitting and waiting. Maybe, when you get back, he'll invite you...
"Why can't humans come here?"
"Because most of them are assholes, " Simon joked, taking another shot.
"Not all of them." You weren't.
"Aww, does the detective miss his master?" North chided. She rejoined the table. She was with two other women, one of which he recognized as the woman he shoved to the ground.
"She's not my master, she's my lover, and she's far better company than you or your friends, " Connor sneered. The air did a sudden 180°, filled with hostility.
"Okay, let's calm down, " Markus tried to come between them, to keep the peace, but for North, peace was never an option.
"What? Too good for your own kind?"
"Too good for this conversation, " Connor smirked, taking another shot. North, not the type to take being dismissed, knew exactly what to say to rile him up.
"I bet you think you mean something to your "lover". Your little human would fuck any android that asks. Probably what she's doing now."
That did it. Connor was on his feet in seconds, though he stumbled slightly as the world turned.
"Listen here, you conniving bitch! You can talk shit about me all you want, but you leave her out of your goddamn mouth. Because you had a tough start to life, everyone else has to suffer? At least you didn't have a psychotic, murderous AI controlling all your actions, though, you two probably would have had a lot in common." Connor got in her face, next venomous words leaving his lips as a growl, "It's a shame you had to kill someone before the new laws. I would have loved seeing you carried to prison, kicking and screaming."
She punched him in the face. It threw him off balance and he fell back, catching himself on Josh. She stormed off before anything more could be said, her friends laughing. Connor got back to his feet, about ready to go after her when Markus took his shoulder.
"Why don't we call it a night?"
.............
Connor sat in the passenger side of Markus' self-driving car, poking at his cheek. A ring she had been wearing had cut into the syn-skin, making it leak. It was already sealed and healing, but he was still pissed off. To avoid conflict, North caught a ride with one of her friends.
"I just don't understand her problem with humans. Not all of them used her for sex. Y/n definitely wouldn't! She loves me, not that sour... Tart. If she was there, she would have kicked North's ass!" He was ranting, and Markus had to keep himself from laughing.
"I know, Connor, I know."
"Who's that on your porch?" Simon asked. There was someone in a gray hoodie curled up on the front step. When Connor saw, he jumped out of the car before it stopped moving, falling to the ground. He quickly made it back to his feet while scrambling to get closer. The commotion awoke the person sleeping there, looking up to see what's going on.
"Y/n!" Connor bowled into you, knocking you back onto the porch. "I've missed you!" He nuzzled against you, making no moves to get up.
"I've... I've missed you... God, you're heavy! I've missed you, too." Markus came up, trying to pull him off you, but Connor's iron clasp brought you up with him. He was still snuggling against you, swaying on his feet.
"Markus, what's going on?" You asked, noticing he wasn't exactly the portrait of perfection either, over-correcting his steps and laughing.
"Have you heard of the new drinks for androids?" Markus smiled. "It looks like you can handle it from here. See you later, Connor!"
"Wait, Markus! What..." But the man sped off to his car, tripping on the front bumper, and you were certain you heard laughter coming from inside. You stood, six feet of drunken android hanging off your shoulders.
"Do you have your keys?" You asked.
Connor pulled back, checking each pocket thoroughly. After a few minutes, he smiled in triumph, pulling out his keychain. You took it from him and unlocked the door.
"Well, this explains why you weren't answering my calls."
"You called me?" He was baffled. He tried to pull up his call log on his HUD, but it glitched out and closed on its own.
"Yep. At least ten times. I lost my keys. I knew you weren't at work, and Hank has his phone turned off again, so I couldn't ask for his copy. I figured you were at Jericho, so I'd just wait for you." Connor won't answer calls if he's in a meeting. He has a number for emergencies, but it's not like the two of you lived in a bad neighborhood, and it was a nice night, if not just a tad chilly.
"I'm sorry, " he sounded so sad, you made the mistake of turning and looking at him. Eyes doleful, wet with unshed tears, lips pouted. No human or android should be able to pull off the sad puppy look so well!
"It's fine! You should hang with your friends more!"
"I'm sorry."
"It was only ten minutes, tops." Actually, over an hour.
"I'm sorry." A tear escaped one of his eyes.
"No! It's fine! Don't cry!" You pulled him into a hug, which he immediately sank in to. "Come on, let's get you to the couch." You more carried him to it, tripping on the end table in the dark. You finally got him down, breathing a sigh of relief. You went to walk away, but he grabbed your wrist.
"Where are you going? You just got home!"
"To turn on the lights and get a glass of water." You kissed his forehead, "I'm not going anywhere."
He reluctantly released your arm. Still pouting as he leaned back.
You went about turning on the lights.
"How did everything go?"
"Professionally? Very well. Personally? Worst time of my life." You came back, setting your drink on the counter. With the lights on, he had a clear view of your face. Your left eye was bruised, and you had a split lip. Your neck was also discolored, as if someone had tried to choke you.
"Who did this to you?" He cupped your cheek, trying to get a better view, but his damn vision kept swimming. Who would dare to hurt you? Death will be a blessing when he gets his hands on them.
"Connor, I'm fine. They're already behind bars anyway. Some guy was plastered and wouldn't take no for an answer."
"Where was your back-up?" You didn't answer him. They didn't want to 'risk the investigation' over something you should be able to handle. Just because they were right, doesn't make it right.
"I don't want you going undercover again. I don't care how many lives are at stake!"
"Calm down, " you took hold of his hand, but he pulled out of your grasp, taking your upper arms as he pleaded with you.
"No! I want you to promise me you won't do this again! I can't lose you! I didn't want you to do it before, and now you're injured! Next time, it could be worse! Just, please... I can't control your life, but please don't do this again." He leaned his head forward, resting against your stomach. "Please."
"Okay, " your hands went to stroke along the back of his neck, "I promise." You lifted his head, gazing into his eyes. "I promise, okay?" He closes his eyes, savoring the words, knowing you will be safe, that he can help keep you safe.
He felt your lips on his, your hands running along his scalp. He was quick to respond. In this moment, he was no longer sitting in a house.
This was what home felt like.
When you pulled away, his eyes remained closed for a moment, lips curling into a smile. You giggled as he opened his eyes and you weren't sure if he was dazed from drinking or from the kiss. It was a perfect moment...
Ruined when your stomach started to grumble.
"Sometimes, it really sucks to be human. All I wanna do is love on my man after not seeing him for almost a month, but my stomach can't go twelve hours without making a fuss." You gave him a final peck on the forehead before heading to the kitchen. Unwilling to leave you alone for a second, Connor stumbled after you.
Opening the fridge, you were met with bottles of condiments and nothing else.
"I cleaned out the fridge last week. I didn't know when you'd be back." Connor found himself staring at your ass when you bent down to look in the crisper, as if food will magically manifest in the little drawers. He found the way it moved to be quite hypnotic, swaying back and forth.
"Guess I'm on frozen dinner." You grabbed one, fiddling with the package before chucking it into the microwave. In that time, Connor had moved behind you.
"You're very pretty, " he spoke, pressing up against you and hugging you.
"And you're very drunk, " you giggled. He started to sway back and forth, dancing to music only he could hear.
"Wanna go to the zoo?" He mumbled in your ear.
"I'm pretty sure they're closed right now."
"They have an android dragon, now."
"That's cool but they're still closed."
"And a mermaid."
"And despite that, they are still closed!" You exclaimed.
"But... I wanna go..." Came his whine.
You turned in his arms, putting your hands on his shoulders as you both continued to sway. Connor was pouting again. So cute.
"We can go tomorrow, when they are open, okay?"
"...fine." He smiled down at you, happy to have you home. He wants to hold you close for the next month to make up for lost time. You rested your head against him as he pulled you closer. "I've missed you, " he whispered, closing his eyes as he rested against your head.
"I've missed you, too. Not one minute went by that I didn't wish I was curled up next to you, " you murmured, listening to the thrums of his thirium pump. You didn't even hear the microwave go off, nor did you care at this moment.
Connor's hands slowly started roaming, creeping from their place on your hips to your ass, gently kneading it. You would be lying if you said it didn't feel nice. Three weeks of running around a bar wearing high heels can really put a strain on your body. Your soft moan encouraged him to grab just a little harder, pushing you flush against his pelvis, getting a good idea of just how much he missed you.
"Someone's feeling frisky, " you chuckled.
"I think I have an addictive personality. I just can't get enough of you. Will you enable me?" He punctuated the last sentence by grinding against you.
"You must be drunk to think you need pick-up lines to get to me, " your own hands started to wander from his shoulders, sliding across his pecs to his waist, then his hips where you traced along his pelvic "bone" before pulling away, just as your stomach decided to make you aware of your food cooling in the microwave. "Human needs overpower human desires. You have to wait."
Once again, Connor pouted, but he agreed. As you ate, you both sat on the couch, tv on but at a low volume. You asked about what he's been up to and if he had fun tonight. He told you about North being a bitch and how you should kick her ass if you ever meet her, earning a laugh from you. When you finished your food, you got up to put your dish in the sink. On the way back, you started undoing your shirt buttons for what is to come.
Or rather, what was to come. Connor had laid down and must have found it so comfortable, he entered sleep mode. His LED spun a lazy blue. He looked so relaxed. You turned off the lights and grabbed a blanket. Then, you took off your jeans and laid down on top of him. Other than his LED flickering a little faster for a moment, he didn't react. Lastly, you tossed the blanket over you both, laying your head down and letting his artificial heart be your lullaby.
.........
The next morning, Connor woke up in a daze. The sunlight seemed too bright from the blinds, prompting him to close his eyes as he connected to the house system and closed them. There was a pressure in his lower abdomen. A warning was flashing on his HUD informing him of his need to remove excess fluids. He went to sit up, only to realize there was another weight on top of him. He opened his eyes, finding you laying across his body. You looked so peaceful, eyes closed, mouth slightly open as you lightly snored. He could lay here forever, but the warnings kept flashing, and the pressure in his groin felt so uncomfortable. Why did he have to drink so much?
He fought with himself, trying not to move until it was getting to be too much. Gently, he rolled over, trying to ease you onto the couch. He did not notice how your arms wrapped around his neck, locked together. When he stood up, your weight pulled him back down. You whined out a protest to being moved, making him freeze as he tried to get you to let go.
"Love? Could you let go, please?" He whispered into your ear. Your lips curled as you kept your eyes closed.
"I could, " you mumbled. He sighed.
"Would you please release me? I need to use the restroom."
"No, I don't really want to." The warnings started flashing brighter, making his head throb.
"Please, love? Sweetheart? I really need to go, " he spoke, borderline desperate. When you didn't answer, he stood, once again bringing you up, practically carrying you towards the bathroom, all the while you were giggling. The blanket tangled around his feet and he fell backwards to the ground.
"Please, Y/n, let me go! I'll do anything!"
"Say, 'Y/n is the nicest, most beautiful woman in the world and it is an honor for me to be graced by her presence'!"
"Y/n is the nicest, most beautif-" you cut him off with a kiss. It was so brief, he chased after your lips when you pulled back.
"Close enough, " you snickered, releasing him and pushing off from his chest. You offered your hand to him to help him up, which he took, laughing as you struggled to haul him up.
Quickly, he pulled you close and kissed you.
"When I'm finished, we're picking up where we left off, " he smirked before dashing off, leaving you shook for a moment.
"I'll hold you to that!" You called after him, looking forward to a proper 'Welcome Home'.
#Cute Girls and Hot Androids#Connor#Connor fanfiction#connor x reader#rk800 connor reader#rk800#DBH#Detroit Become Human
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survey by tickticktmr
Do you have a digital camera? What color is it? No, haven’t held one in years. The last digital camera we had was a bit of a magenta shade; it actually belonged to my sister but I borrowed it occasionally.
Did you like the movie Juno? It was ok, though to be honest I’ve mostly forgotten what it’s about. I remember fairly liking it but it’s not the type of movie or genre I’d rewatch.
Name something you think is way over-rated: Big Macs, which I’ve never found tasty.
Do you remember your first friend? Yes, it was a girl named Kaye that I sat with in preschool. She didn’t stay too long in my school, so I haven’t been able to reconnect.
Would you rather live with your mom, dad, a friend or on your own? On my own.
Name something your pet(s) like: Walks.
Do you listen to country music? No, I don’t.
What does the color white remind you of? Peace, serenity, doves, minimalist homes.
What show/movie/song makes you cry every time? Show: From Brooklyn Nine-Nine - either the episode where Rosa Diaz comes out as bisexual or the episode where Terry gets racially profiled.
Movie: La vita e bella.
Song: There isn’t one song that makes me cry 100% of the time, but I suppose Why We Ever by Hayley Williams had this effect on me for a time.
What was your last fight about? I spilled a drop of our dinner’s soup on the dinner table last Thursday and my mom did a sufficient job making me feel incompetent and a dumbass about it, so I was hurt by it and didn’t speak a word for the rest of the evening. Not really a fight, but y’know.
Do you text a lot? I used to not but anymore. I usually get prepaid for LTE now, not to have credits for texts.
Have you ever been screamed at by a teacher? Many times. A number of them didn’t like me for whatever reason...
Do you smile or scowl more? I definitely try to smile more, but idk for sure if that’s what I do more frequently.
Obama or Bush? Idk, maybe Obama? Considering we were colonized by the US at one point and imperialism remains to linger in my country, I generally don’t take kindly to any US president, though.
Batman or Superman? I don’t like comic books.
Are you excited about Blink 182 getting back together? I don’t follow the band so I’m not sure how recent or relevant this news is, but generally speaking I don’t remember ever being stoked for a Blink-182 comeback in particular.
Would you rather be a teacher, a stripper or a hairdresser? I’d go with teacher, and preferably of history, so that I at least can have an hour or so to talk about my passion with other people lol.
The last person you spoke to: how many times have they made you cry? Just once.
What's your favorite kind of gum? The classic bubblegum flavor is fine with me.
Have you ever failed a class in school? Just exams, but never altogether an entire class that required me to retake.
Are you even in school? No, not anymore.
Are you taller then your best friend? No haha, I’m slightly tinier than both of them.
Are you scared of spiders? I’d be scared probably of the larger kinds, but all we get here are the super small spiders so this isn’t an issue for me for the most part.
You can't eat anything ever again except for jello or apples: which one? Probably apples. I cannot stand the texture of jelly/Jell-O, and I guess I can move past my dislike of fruits for this situation since apple is kinda decent anyway.
Have you ever cheated on anyone? No, never man.
If you answered yes to the last question, do they know about it?
Do you paint your nails often? I never do and I never have them done either.
Mascara or lipgloss? Er lipgloss I guess, since I literally don’t care how my eyelashes look.
Who’s the last person you called? I think it had been Denise, a co-worker.
Describe the last person who sent you a text: It was just the delivery guy who brought Ysa’s gift to my place, so I don’t know enough about him to be able to give a sufficient description.
Do you ever watch TV shows or movies on YouTube? No, because for the most part they would be high- or low-pitched, in a tiny screen, sped up, zoomed in, or altogether fake. I also don’t understand why buying movies individually on YouTube is still a thing when Netflix exists for literally cheaper.
Myspace or facebook? Uh Facebook, I guess.
How old were you when you lost your first tooth? I was around 5 or 6, I think.
Have you ever embarassed yourself in front of someone you like? Yeah. But when I started dating them, fucking up in front of them became less embarrassing, of course.
Describe your hair right now: Wet and slightly dripping since I just stepped out of the shower.
Do you like it when it rains? Yes, it’s my favorite weather.
Does anyone miss you right now? I hope my friends do...but I can’t say for sure.
How many funerals have you been to? None. Just wakes.
Where's your favorite place to hang out? Depends on the vibe I’m feeling for the day and the company I’ve got.
Have you ever laughed so hard you peed in your pants? Oh gee, never.
Do you like video games? What's your favorite one? I was raised around video games and so much of my childhood was watching my kuya, dad, and a number of my uncles completing games, so I definitely hold a big appreciation and fondness for them. I never inherited any skills of my own though lmao, so I mostly watch walkthroughs; and the only video games I’ve ever met considerable progress on are Nintendo games marketed for all audiences HAHAHA.
Have you ever worn something your parents wouldn't approve of? Yeah I’ve gotten chided by my mom a handful of times, telling me to cover up with a jacket or something. But her reasoning was always men, so I’m usually able to defend myself and say that that’s not my problem and that’s something fucking men have to deal with themselves. We both know I’m right so she ends up begrudgingly letting me go out with whatever outfit I choose on that given day.
Where are your sibling(s)? They are in their respective bedrooms.
When's the last time a friend got dumped/dumped someone? September. That friend was Gabie and the dumpee was me hahahah, does that count?
Do you celebrate Valentine's day? If I have a significant other, yeah. I like keeping our activities lowkey though because from all my past experiences, malls and restaurants tend to get fully booked on February 14 and it ends up being more of a (very crowded) hassle than a celebration.
Do you celebrate Christmas? Yep.
Does it snow where you live? Never.
Have you ever wanted a pet unicorn? I never did, actually.
Would you like to work to earn money, or simply have money given to you? The latter is obviously the ideal situation, but I recognize the importance of hard work too and constantly working on my skills.
If you could be on any game show, what one would it be? Jeopardy or Family Feud.
Do you know anyone whose famous? Yes, at least locally.
Do you read those gossip magazines? I used to, lol those were my guilty pleasures back then. I still keep up with celebrity updates, but I’ve moved to social media now. I also filter which publications I consume and avoid the tabloid-y ones like Daily Mail.
Summer or winter? I’d go with winter so that I can actually experience it for once.
What do you hear right now? I’m watching an archived Facebook livestream of a senior citizen who had held a virtual piano concert to raise funds to afford his maintenance medicine. The media ate it up like crazy and it’s since gone viral, so I was able to I read about him earlier tonight. He reminds me so much of my late grandpa so I quickly searched for the finished concert on Facebook and now I have it on :)
When's the last time you saw a cousin? Around two weeks ago.
Where were you the last time you left your house? I can’t remember exactly. I think I went to Feliz...OH OK I remember now - I originally went to the nearby SM to handle an LBC delivery for work, and to stay at Starbucks for a few hours also to work. After that I went to their vape stall to buy new pods but they didn’t have any for the vape brand I use, so I went to Feliz as well to try my chances there. They ended up having a few flavors but not what I usually get, so I decided to try a new one - grape lol.
Describe the room you are in: Dark, filled with the lovely sounds of piano music, and the faint smell coming from my scented candle. Overall, light and peaceful.
What shoes did you wear today? I wore my Onitsukas when I walked Cooper this morning.
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chapter: 31/? summary: Dan’s body has been broken for as long as he can remember, and he’s long since learned to deal with it. Sort of. But when his symptoms force him to leave uni and move into a new flat with a stranger named Phil, he finds that ignoring the pain isn’t the way to make himself happy. word count: 4k (103k total) rating: mature warnings: chronic illness, chronic pain, medicine a/n: As always, immense thanks to @obsessivelymoody for beta’ing!
Ao3 link || read from beginning
They settle into bed that night with no intention of going to sleep.
Dan’s laptop is open, resting on his thighs. Phil propped up two pillows against the wall for him to lean against, his back and neck still tender from the pressure point test Dr. Kissel performed. The duvet is draped across his lap, his toes sticking out from the end of it.
Phil stares at the screen over his shoulder. Dan can feel the warm puffs of air from his breathing against his skin.
He types fibro mialgia into Google.
Its response is Did you mean: Fibromyalgia, just enough to have a quiet breath rumbling between Dan’s ribs.
He clicks on the first link, a webpage from the Mayo Clinic. He’s pretty sure that’s in America somewhere. It probably doesn’t much matter. The top of the page tells him it’s believed to amplify painful sensations by changing the way the brain processes pain. He thinks that’s what Dr. Kissel said.
Dan’s not entirely sure what fucked up pain processing is supposed to feel like, but he thinks this is probably it.
The next paragraph is about trauma, about how it sometimes triggers fibromyalgia. Dan tries not to let the fact that he doesn’t relate make his insides twist too much.
Phil must be able to tell, because he leans in close and whispers, “It says ‘sometimes’.”
The one after that includes a list of other conditions that may be related. Dan reads it once, twice, three times before his gaze lingers on the last two. His stomach goes tight. He doesn’t realize his fingertip’s tapping his computer until Phil reaches over to grab it, snagging one of Dan’s hands and drawing it into his lap.
He doesn’t ask what Dan’s staring at. It’s probably obvious.
Dan’s spent years trying to convince himself he definitely wasn’t depressed, that definitely wasn’t his problem, and now it’s splashed across the page again in the clearest of sans serif fonts. Dr. Kissel didn’t mention that one. He wonders how much of his chart she’s read, if she knew it would make him feel like this.
He almost shuts the laptop and gives up on research. Maybe he doesn’t want to know after all.
But then Phil reaches over and scrolls down for him, leaving the list of symptoms lighting up Dan’s screen.
Everything after that is overwhelming in a different way. There’s a lot of symptoms. A lot of possible treatments. Dan’s never considered most of them. Massage therapy sounds incredibly unpleasant. Acupuncture, too. Getting enough sleep sounds so implausible that Dan actually laughs, too loud, too sharp.
The next page on Google is a lot of the same. So is the third, and the fourth.
Exercise is mentioned a lot. Dan’s joints ache at just the thought of trying to go out for a run, at the memory of how painful it was just to walk to class back at uni, of how sick he used to feel after gym class back in school.
There’s a lot they don’t know about fibromyalgia, he learns. There’s no cure, no definitive answer on why things hurt. There’s a bunch of studies that show little abnormalities that might cause it but none of them agree and none are conclusive and Dan doesn’t much care.
He knows, finally. And there’s some stuff they do know.
It’s not fatal. It’s never fatal. Dan reads that bit out loud, because Phil’s sitting next to him, gaze tripping across the page just a bit slower than Dan’s. Dr. Kissel already told them that more than once. The extra layer of reassurance makes Phil lean in close, his body pressed against Dan’s side.
He dusts a kiss to Dan’s bare shoulder, soft, loving.
There was a time when Dan might have been terrified by the prospect of a lifelong condition with no cure and no potential to be let out of his misery. It’s still scary now, not knowing what to expect for any of his future. But giving this up isn’t really an option anymore.
Phil lets go of his hand to wrap his arm around Dan’s shoulders instead, leaning in close so his head rests right above Dan’s collarbone.
“I’m glad you have an answer,” he says. His voice has gone low and gravelly.
He sounds tired. And he has to work in the morning. And Dan suddenly feels bad for keeping him up for so long with a cycle of redundant articles that say the same little bit of information in slightly different ways. He closes his laptop, scrolled only halfway down the page.
“You’re not gonna keep reading?”
“I can read tomorrow,” he says. “Apparently I need to focus on getting enough sleep.”
Phil chuckles. He pulls away just enough slip down the mattress until he’s lying down. Dan tosses the extra pillow onto the floor and rests his laptop precariously on the corner of his bedside table before doing the same. He reaches out, draping his arm across Phil’s stomach, cuddling up against his side.
He can’t handle the pressure against his back tonight. Phil doesn’t seem to mind.
His palm settles flat against Dan’s ribcage, head dipping down. Dan looks up to meet his mouth in a quick kiss goodnight.
When he pulls away, he’s smiling.
---
Dan dreams of being old that night.
He’s sitting in a mostly empty room with white walls and a sofa. There’s a blanket draped over him and an ice pack sitting uselessly atop his head. It’s just like his life now, except when he looks down, his hands are wrinkled and spotted with age.
He wakes up. The room is still dark, hardly a touch of light filtering through Phil’s curtains. Phil’s still sound asleep, snoring softly.
Dan’s brain is echoing his nan’s complaints about how achy her knees were, the ones he could relate to when he was only fourteen.
He swallows, presses himself tighter against Phil’s side, and stares at the window until he falls back asleep.
---
His chest is tight when he wakes up in the morning.
Phil’s not in bed anymore. There’s a note on Dan’s bedside table telling him Phil’s already gone to work. It has a silly little smiley face drawn in the corner. Dan’s laptop has been moved to sit on the chest of drawers instead, more stable there than where he placed it last night.
He sinks back against his pillow once he’s spotted it. His breath comes out as a sigh, his hand coming up to rub hard at the line of his sternum, as though that will ease the pressure there.
His knees crack when his climbs out of bed. There’s still a tingling, radiating sort of pain where Dr. Kissel pressed against his body, all down his legs and up along his spine. Some of them feel swollen, but when he rubs at the back of his neck, there’s nothing there.
Dan grabs his laptop and changes his pants before moving to the lounge.
He turns to look back before he leaves, hand gripping the door frame to steady him. The duvet is ruppled on both sides, a giant ball of fluff where Dan’s feet were. There’s a pillow on the floor and two pressed close together at the head of the mattress. Dan’s phone charger rests on his bedside table, plugged into nothing.
Something spasms in Dan’s chest.
It takes him a moment to realize it’s anxiety.
---
The kettle is half full of water on the kitchen counter. There’s a smoothie in the fridge with a straw already sticking out of it. Phil left the cereal box out, plastic bag half poking out the top of it, and the cupboard door open overhead. Dan closes it as he sips at his breakfast.
He doesn’t turn the TV on this morning.
He drags his computer onto his lap and opens the article he’d left half read last night. He doesn’t finish it. There’s other things on his mind this morning than symptom lists he’s already read and collections of advice that only seems half effective.
Working with fibromyalgia, is what he types into Google today.
The first link is to a WebMD article. Dan clicks it without thinking much.
People can work with this, is the first thing Dan learns. It makes his chest feel funny, something half relief and half not blooming there. Keep working, is what the article says, and Dan tries not to think about the day he handed his resignation to Sue, body aching so much just getting there had been a hassle.
He fails.
He thinks about it for so long that his vision goes out of focus, the article sliding into double. It snaps back into place when he blinks and scrolls down to the next part, too many lists of too many questions to address way too many problems.
The advice is … a lot. It’s flexible work hours and working from home, extra equipment at work and less tasks. It’s finding a job that’s not too stressful and lets you sleep in, and one where you don’t need to do manual labour but can also survive when your brain isn’t working right.
Right in the middle of it, there’s an ad for some pill that starts with, Does your penis curve when erect?
Dan laughs. It’s only then that he realizes his throat’s gone tight and his eyes are stinging. His fingers are shaking over the keyboard when he jams the down arrow to read the rest of the page. It takes him too many tries to stay steady enough to click the arrow bringing him to the next one.
Can I get disability with fibromyalgia? is its header.
Dan almost forgets how to breathe. He doesn’t read it. He doesn’t go back to Google. He closes Chrome entirely and slams his laptop shut and tells himself it’s because the advice was about American law and not because his stomach suddenly really doesn’t like the smoothie Phil made more him.
A tear rolls down his cheek.
He stares at the blank TV screen until it falls off the bottom of his chin.
---
The lounge is full of both their stuff.
There’s a PlayStation and a Wii on the TV cabinet, above neat shelves lined with a shared collection of games. There’s two DS chargers plugged into the wall. There’s a stack of DVDs by the door to the balcony, Dan’s piled on top of Phil’s from when he first moved in.
The blanket Phil got him is draped over the sofa. Decorations he had before Dan moved in are all laid out on the furniture and hanging on the walls. There’s a throw pillow that used to live on the sofa that now sits in the corner of the room.
Dan thinks too much about how none of his A-levels or GCSCs will ever be enough to get him a job that would give him any of the things on WebMD’s list.
And then even more about all the horror stories he’s heard about people living on benefits.
And then, once his chest hurts and pressure is welling at his temples, about how he doesn’t really have a choice but to need one of them if his body’s not going to be fixed.
It’s not. Dan expected that. He tries not to care. Part of him doesn’t.
But the other part of him reminds him that Phil’s parents are still paying his part of the rent, echoes his mum’s warnings about leeching off Phil until tears are welling in his eyes once again. It pictures the people back in Wokingham who told him he’d never go anywhere if Dan didn’t learn to deal with a little bit of pain.
His brain flashes a quick image of being back there.
He reaches for his phone, just to distract himself. He ends up texting Taylor instead.
Dan: can you come over? i have news
Taylor: already on my way out the door
---
“You look less shit today,” is what she says when she opens the door. There’s a smile on her face, wavering just enough to let Dan know it’s her attempt to act normal.
He doesn’t feel less shit. The post-appointment high has settled into something just as heavy and insecure feeling as before, just tainted with different memories, weighted with different fears.
“Yeah,” he says, “Well, stuff happened.”
He leads her to the lounge without explaining first. His body is achy and she knows he needs to be sitting down. When she settles down next to him, it’s with her whole body turned towards him, legs tucked under her and arm draped across the back of the cushions, like she’s waiting for something.
She doesn’t ask for it.
Dan takes a moment to steady his breath before saying, “I’m not dying.”
She chuckles, breathy and uncertain. “That’s good,” she says. “You better think it’s good.”
There was a day, back in at uni, when she’d tossed her textbook aside and said killing me would be less painful. And Dan, safe in the knowledge that she wouldn’t try to send him to a therapist, lest the advice be turned back on her, had admitted sometimes I wish I was dying just so I’d know the pain would end.
“It’s good,” says Dan. He turns towards her, offering a smile that actually feels genuine. “I have a diagnosis.”
“Oh!” She bounces on her knees. “And?”
“It’s fibromyalgia.”
She nods, just once, brows going a little furrowed. “Is it bad that I don’t know what that means?”
Dan laughs. “Neither did I,” he says. “I reckon most scientists don't either, if Google is a reliable source.”
“Sounds accurate, if my quarter of a bio degree is anything to go off,” says Taylor. A smile quirks at the corners of her mouth.
Dan’s not sure he’s ever seen her smiling when talking about those classes. It’s nice.
“Yeah, most of my old doctors confirm the theory,” he says, smiling too. “Dr. Kissel’s actually good, though.”
“Yeah?” says Taylor. “And this fibromyalgia thing, is it good?”
He shrugs. The anxiety from before burns in his chest again. His head tilts back against the sofa, and he watches Taylor’s brows furrow in concern.
“Probably shouldn’t be. The symptoms are royal shit and there’s no cure and I don’t really know where to go from here,” he admits. “But having an answer? That’s good.”
A smile spreads slowly across her face, close-lipped and content. Dan watches her eyes flick between both of his, her head falling to rest against her open palm as she stares.
“I’m not gonna pretend to understand,” she says. “My diagnosis– I knew what was wrong, I just didn’t want to admit it, you know?”
Dan nods. He wonders if that’s one of the things she learned about herself in therapy, wonders how he never really saw it that way. Maybe because he couldn’t relate. He never felt like he knew what was wrong with him. Until now.
His heart clenches at that, eyes falling closed against the rush of anxiety-tainted relief that floods the already too-full space between his ribs.
Taylor reaches over, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. Her voice is quiet as a whisper when she says, “I’m so happy for you.”
He laughs. It comes out as a puff of air that sounds half like a sob, but it’s the best he can muster without actually breaking into tears.
She must be able to tell, because she pulls away and settles back against the sofa. Dan counts his breath for a moment afterwards, until the steady rise and fall of his chest feels less fragile. When he opens his eyes again, Taylor’s staring up at the ceiling with him, lips still quirked up.
“You get to join me in the arduous process that is recovery now, you know,” she says. “Welcome to the dark side.”
Dan smiles. “Shouldn’t it be the brighter side?”
“Hush,” she turns to him. Her smile’s reaching her eyes, like it rarely used to before. “I’ve been rehearsing that in my head for the last, like, two minutes, let me have this.”
When Dan laughs that time, it actually feels genuine.
---
Taylor stays for dinner. Phil invited her.
They eat around the coffee table. Taylor lets Phil have his usual spot next to Dan with a joke about how she’s pretty sure it’s morphed to their spines by now, and drags over a chair from the dining table instead. She tells Phil all about her new courses as they eat, a grin wide on both their faces.
Afterwards, they play a round of Mario Kart, because they can. Dan wins. Taylor comes in second this time, and Phil complains about how she’s never allowed to play with them again because, even if he can’t beat Dan, he can beat the computers. Usually.
Dan teases him with that last bit. He points out how often Phil ends up stuck in the item clusterfuck and, when he pouts in response, presses a quick kiss to his cheek. Because he can.
It feels normal. As normal as it can when, a few months ago, he and Taylor were playing this game on their DS’, miserable in Dan’s uni bedroom.
So, not normal at all.
Taylor’s laughs so much happy tears leak from the corners of her eyes. Dan has an answer for why his chest aches when he laughs too much. Phil reaches around him, and flattens a hand against Dan’s ribs when his breath catches around an exhale.
He whispers a quiet one, two, three, against the round of Dan’s shoulder.
Dan leans his head back against the cushions again, and enjoys the company of the two people who will give him a second to steady the broken parts of his body without making him feel bad.
When he looks back up, he smirks at them both, and starts a round of Rainbow Road without warning.
---
The anxiety starts to come back when darkness falls.
Phil leads him to the bedroom without a word. Taylor’s just left, the sky’s just starting to go dark. It’s been a long time since they last sat up and watched a movie late into the night, Dan realizes, but he doesn’t much mind. It means he gets to wrap himself in cozy blankets and rest his head on a fluffed up pillow and feel Phil’s arms around him.
He gets to reach up and chase away the tedium of the day with soft kisses pressed to Phil’s lips.
Tonight, though, he doesn’t. His mind is too preoccupied by the time he slips under the covers. He stares up at the ceiling and tries not to think of all the long nights he spent with just his pain and his questions to keep him company. Days when the brush of his duvet was too much against his skin, when his pillow pressed too much against the back of his neck.
It’s because there’s tender points there. Dan knows that now.
It doesn’t feel like he should.
He reaches out into the space between them and catches Phil’s hand over the mattress, squeezing once.
“Can I ask you something?” he says.
“‘Course,” says Phil. He rolls over, so he’s curled up on his side facing Dan, head resting against the crook of his elbow.
Dan doesn’t look back at him. He feels weird when he asks, “You know that thing you made me do the other day? To get my thoughts out of my head? With my webcam?”
“Yeah,” says Phil. “Why?”
Dan swallows. Phil must be able to hear it, because he squeezes Dan’s hand, just for a second.
“Would you find it weird if I wanted to do it again?”
“Why would I find that weird?” asks Phil. He lets go of Dan’s hand, only to reach out and clumsily search for his fringe in the darkness. He swipes some curls away from his eyes. “I told you I used to do it, didn’t I?”
Dan shrugs. It’s awkward, with his pillow tucked right above his shoulders. “Yeah. Just feels weird.”
“Well, it doesn’t have to, if it helps,” says Phil. “Do you want me to set it up for you?”
Dan considers it. There’s comfort in the idea, a weird kind that soothes his mind into thinking Phil actually can’t find it weird if he’s willing to help Dan do it. But it’s getting late, late enough that Dan’s pretty sure if he peeked outside he could see the the flashing trails of airplanes over the city, and Phil worked all day.
“I think I can manage,” he says. “Pretty sure I haven’t forgotten how to use my laptop just yet.”
Phil laughs. His hand trails across Dan’s chest as he slips out of bed. When Dan turns to look back from the doorframe, the hallway light lets him see just enough to tell that Phil’s still curled up on his side, smiling.
---
He sets his laptop up on his pillows, with the grainy window of his webcam app filling the screen.
The room stays silent for long seconds after he hits record. Dan adjusts his hair, all curly in the way he hates but can never spare the energy to fix. He fidgets around on his bed until his too-bony knees are out of shot and you can see the waistline of his pants so he doesn’t look naked.
Part of him wants to laugh at himself. It doesn’t matter. No one will ever see this. Dan doesn’t even think he’ll ever look back at it.
He takes a deep breath, brings his fingers to his head, and says, “Hello internet,” just like last time.
And then he rants into the camera until he’s lost track of what he’s already said and isn’t sure any of it is making sense and the anxiety in his brain fades into some sort of mental fatigue. He’s lying down on his side because he lost the energy to sit up and his laptop clock is telling him it’s been over half an hour.
His hands are shaking when he reaches over to shut the recording off. Dan’s not sure when that started.
He’s not sure about a lot of things, he realizes.
Dan rolls onto his back, and stares up a ceiling that’s just like Phil’s but feels way less familiar until he musters the energy to hold his body upright again.
---
Phil’s still awake when Dan goes back to their room.
He looks up from his phone as Dan closes the door behind him and walks over to crawl into bed. He pulls the duvet over his body, right up to his chin, and curls up on his side. There’s a headache welling in his temples, and a heaviness lingering in his chest.
“Were you listening?” he whispers.
“No,” says Phil. He reaches behind him to set his phone down, sending the room dark, and then reaches out to tuck a strand of Dan’s hair behind his ear. “I don’t want to intrude.”
Dan hums. His eyes drift closed as Phil’s thumb traces small circles on his cheek.
Part of him wishes Phil had overheard, so he could soothe Dan’s anxieties without him needing to ask any scary questions. Most of him just wants to hold Phil close and pretend he isn’t suddenly questioning the stability of his entire fucking life, of all the wonderful things in it.
So he does. He grabs Phil’s hand, and dusts a soft kiss to his palm, and then presses closer until Phil’s arms are wrapped all the way around him, holding him tucked against his shoulder in an awkward horizontal hug.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
Phil doesn’t respond with words. He just brushes a kiss to the top of Dan’s head and then, when Dan looks up, a second to his lips.
And a third and a fourth and a fifth until they actually settle in to sleep.
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Poe or Santi or both! Plus something fallish, whatever you want, pumpkin picking, apple picking, hay ride...
Oh, how absolutely sweet! I love this prompt so much! As such, I’ll write both, because one can never have too much autumnal adorableness! So, without further ado, let’s begin!
“You know,” Santi murmurs, eyes on the road, hands carefully moving the steering wheel, “I haven’t really ever done anything like this.”
Christmas music tumbles out of the car radio as they cruise down a largely empty country road; somewhere in the back of Santi’s mind, he registers some level of aggravation that they’re already playing songs like these. His eyes follow the curves of the road, darting up to the steady lines of the trees that surround the road, some of them so densely clustered that their branches hang over and form an archway over the road, dripping red-orange leaves down onto the pavement.
“Really?”
His sweetheart looks up from the map on her phone in surprise, and Santi glances away from the road to meet her eyes, smiling sheepishly.
“Yeah. I never really lived anywhere that got cold around fall, so stuff like, uh--” --he takes a hand off the wheel and gestures with it, as if trying to tug the missing word down out of the air-- “--’leaf viewing’ wasn’t part of my fall experience.”
“It’s just taking a scenic drive to see the colors,” she says softly, raising a brow. “You never did that before?”
“My parents and I lived in Florida,” replies Santi. “Our little corner of the panhandle didn’t get changing leaves. We’d have to go pretty far out to get anywhere like that, which sounds like it’d have been a hassle for them, so no. And where I was in Columbia wasn’t inclined for fall, either, so, again, no.”
“Well, what was your fall experience like, then?,” she probes, giving him a curious, questioning nudge with her elbow. He shakes his head and chuckles.
Santi turns his gaze forward once more, looking out the windshield to admire the brightly-colored trees in their autumn plumage. The vibrant reds, oranges, yellows, browns, and holdover greens all make up a new skyline, one unfamiliar to him yet so easy to imagine as being just the way things are supposed to be. It is picturesque; quintessential yet alien to him at the same time. He sighs out through his nose and shrugs, trying to conjure specific memories of what his own past had been like, and trying to determine if it was relatable enough.
“We’d get pumpkins from grocery stores and carve a few,” he says after a moment. “Mostly me and my dad. My mom hated the feeling of pumpkin guts.”
“Did she, now?”
Santi knows she’s just trying to tug a little more conversation out of him; he’s surprisingly coy about his childhood memories, almost evasive, and she always wants to know more. He smiles to himself, casting a quick glance at her, and finds himself pleased by her intrigue. It’s sweet that she wants to know him so well. He supposes it wouldn’t hurt to share a more about his family, and decides to indulge her.
“Mhm, she hated the texture; she was always picky about that kinda stuff. But my dad loved carving the pumpkins, and sometimes did two or three a year on his own, so we’d end up with a huge bowl of the guts, and my mom would tell us we’d better not be wasteful, and so my dad and I would have to hand-pick every seed out of the giant bowl and roast them to eat.”
Turning the car to follow the bend of the road, Santi chuckles airily at the memory of his father elbow-deep in the massive steel bowl of gooey pumpkin guts, fishing for individual seeds one by one, the man’s sleeves rolled up and some wayward strands of pumpkin innard smeared on his forehead and glasses.
“And then, you know, we had Halloween, and then Día, which was really mostly just for my dad, and a very loose version of Thanksgiving that centrally revolved around my mom and dad making way too many dishes and then trying to negotiate who got the TV; Dad always wanted to watch the game, and Mom always wanted to watch the parades.”
“What did you like watching?,” she asks, and Santi turns to see her leaning her chin in her hand, watching him intently.
He pauses, then takes a hand off the wheel, patting her thigh with it affectionately. He can’t get over how cute it is that she cares.
“I liked both, if I’m being honest. But I especially liked watching the parades with my mom; she’d get all excited about the singers and the cute kids walking the floats and stuff like that. It was infectious, her enthusiasm.”
Santi feels her take his hand and lace their fingers together and smiles, warmth flooding his cheeks, creating a comfortable kind of sting against the cold air.
“And she’d always ask me if I knew what character the balloons were, because she had a hard time remembering them all,” he continues. “So I’d tell her. And if the commentators were talking too fast for her, I’d translate what they were saying into Spanish, and she really liked that.”
He trails off, still smiling.
“I think her favorite balloons were the Snoopy ones,” he adds. “She knew Snoopy. Liked him a lot. Oh, and she liked the marching bands; I remember she wanted me to do marching band at my school so bad, probably because she thought that it’d mean we’d get picked to go to the parade or something.”
“Did you ever join? Band, I mean?”
Santi pauses, turning to eye her with an air of incredulity, doing his best to keep a straight face and not give the game away. Try as he might, though, he can’t entirely keep the smile off his face as he takes in her inquisitive eyes, her anticipation, her burning need to know.
“Snare drum,” he says bluntly.
She shrieks and grips Santi’s hand tighter, and Santi can’t help but let out a brief little chuckle himself.
“Please, please, please tell me you have pictures,” she begs. “I have to be able to pair the image of my big, strong special-ops officer with the scrawny band geek I just know you were. My life depends on it.”
Santi snorts loudly, a sound that shocks him: he hadn’t even meant to laugh, much less make such an unbecoming noise. However, just as the self-consciousness begins to descend on him, Santi hears her laughter joining his own, and he relaxes into the feeling of being known, being seen, snort and all. It feels strangely natural.
The car stalls at a red light and Santi takes advantage of the moment of stillness to turn his head to fully face her, a silence permeating the car as they look at one another and see familiar features and yet, somehow, something new, something still unfolding. He clears his throat.
“All that stuff is great," he murmurs, “But... I’m... I wanna make new memories, too. Have new experiences.”
Her eyes sparkle in the bright grey autumn light that filters through the windows, her cheeks rounded by her loving smile. His bubbles with boyish excitement at being so near to someone he feels so deeply for, and, both unable and unwilling to resist, he leans across the seat and kisses her forehead, lingering for the barest breath of a second before seeing the light turn green. At this, Santi returns safely to his seat to push the car through the intersection, but still feels the brush of butterflies inside his belly.
When he looks over at her as they pass under the light, he sees her watching him once more; she’s trying to gauge his reactions to what he’s seeing, trying to determine how he’s feeling. Santi softly pulses her hand, giving her a fond smile.
“Come on, then,” he says, doing his best to re-invigorate the conversation. “Tell me how you’re liking the leaves.”
Noting the change in tone, his beloved turns her face to look out the window and sighs, but in a way that strikes Santi as sounding quite contented rather than disappointed or distressed. Santi watches her breath leave a little fog against the cold clearness of the windowpane. She nods, seemingly satisfied by her leaf-watching, then turns back to him, squeezing his hand once, twice.
“I love how big the trees get out here,” she says. “They’re so old and tall, and getting to drive through these--” --she gestures out at the over-arching branches that form the forest tunnel that the road winds through-- “--Is like being taken somewhere far, far away... somewhere magical, you know?”
Santi encourages her to go on by giving her hand a matching sequence of squeezes.
“And I can’t believe how these are all real colors, right? It’s amazing that plants can do this, and how it changes the whole atmosphere!”
He strokes his thumb along the smooth hills of her knuckles and hums in acknowledgment as she tells him all these things; in her own attempt to keep the conversation light and breezy, she talks about previous leaf-viewing drives she’d been on, and how they all pale in comparison to this one. Santi listens carefully, but finds that he is less concerned with the practicalities of the venture than with just being there, in this moment, with her. Listening to her voice. Watching her mannerisms, admiring her natural movements. Being infected by her enthusiasm.
He watches her talk for a few moments more before pulling over, parking the car in a patch of flat land off the side of the road. Santi’s sweetheart looks over at him, cocking her head to the side, questioning. Santi merely smiles and unbuckles himself, then steps out of the car and rounds it to reach her side and open the door for her.
Santi reaches his hand in to help her out and onto her feet, then guides her into leaning on the warm hood of the car by his side, one of his arms wrapped around her waist. They sit in silence, listening to the chatter of birds in the trees, the susurrus of the leaves, the distant hum of cars on roads further on from them. She leans her head on his shoulder, and the two watch the leaves overhead shift and billow in the breeze, flipping their pale bellies up to the sky to flash their fiery colors down to the onlookers below.
After a span of many long, uncounted minutes, Santi breaks the peaceful reverie.
“When we get home, I’ll show you my band pictures.”
She abruptly turns her head up to face him. He can see the unbridled glee in her eyes.
“I had a uniform,” he continues. “Feathered hat and all.”
“Oh my god,” she whispers ecstatically.
“I know.”
“I love you so much.” She grabs his shoulders and stares into his eyes. “But I am going to make so much fun of you when I see those pictures.”
Santi tips his head back and lets out the loudest, most unabashed snort-laugh of his life.
“I still can’t believe you actually are wearing that.”
“It’s not my fault,” Poe grumbles, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans as he walks up the hill towards the farm’s entrance. “Leia’s just so... Well, it’s not like I could say no!”
“You could have taken it off in the car,” his sweetheart counters.
“I feel like she’d know, somehow!”
Poe fishes his hands out of his pockets to grab at the hem of his sweater and tug it out, looking down at the pattern on the torso with a wrinkled nose. He eyes the knitted cornucopia and embroidered pumpkins warily, the ironed-on autumn leaves stirring his gut with their kitsch. Poe finds himself sighing and allowing the sweater to flop back down into place as his beloved chuckles to herself, her hand slipping around his forearm, linking them side by side.
“Well, if it’s any consolation, I think you look very cute,” she offers, squeezing his bicep affectionately. “You look like you’re going to bingo night at the senior’s center!”
“Don’t start,” gripes Poe as he rolls his eyes.
“Do you need my help crossing the road?,” she continues. “Can I get you some denture paste? Perhaps a hard candy that tastes like dust?”
“You’re so mean to me.”
“You’re cute when you’re grumpy.”
They crest the hill and pass through the front gates of the farm; families with young children pose for photos in front of the farm’s sign, little kids run to various animal petting areas, and people comb through rows and rows of pumpkins to find the one just right for them.
Poe draws in a deep, contented breath and smiles, looking over at his lover with excitement, then gestures widely with his hand at the expanse of the farm.
“Where to, young lady?,” he asks jovially. “You get first pick.”
She hums in thought, surveying the surroundings, taking her time, and Poe watches her with anticipation. He hopes she doesn’t want to pick pumpkins right away; he’d be lugging them around all day, and he hates the thought of having his hands full with heavy gourds instead of being able to hold her hand or, if the opportunity presented itself, being able to pinch her butt.
After a moment, she responds with her choice.
“I wanna see what they’re selling over there,” she states, pointing at a little stand. “Do you wanna go?”
Poe nods chipperly; thank God it wasn’t pumpkins.
They walk towards the stand together as knee-high children zoom past, chased by anxious parents, and nearby animals bray and nicker in their stalls. The populous din reminds Poe of his own childhood on the farm, and as they pass a paddock of lowing cows, he passes his hand over the muzzle of one nearest the fence, smiling fondly to himself.
Arriving at the stall, Poe is overwhelmed with a wonderful, warm, treacly smell; cooking sugar and the sharp crispness of fruit mingle in the air, and Poe grins, rushing closer to the stall and tugging his beloved along with him.
“Oh, you picked the best part of all!,” he beams. “Caramel apples!”
He studies the golden-coated apples as the glimmer under the stall’s soft orange lighting, already salivating at the mere sight of them. He holds up two fingers to the seller behind the stall, then squeezes his beloved’s hand as it still rests on his bicep, turning back to face her again.
“You have such good taste, darling. And not just in men!”
At this, the woman on Poe’s arm rolls her eyes and kicks at the toe of his boot playfully, then reaches her free hand out to accept one of the offered caramel apples from the vendor. Poe follows her lead and takes his own, thanking the vendor and fumbling in his pocket for the requisite bills, handing them over a little awkwardly as he tries to balance his sweetheart’s hold on his arm and the sweet in his opposite hand.
After receiving and pocketing his change, Poe pivots and walks with his lover, taking his first, gooey bite of the apple with great relish. He makes a happy groan as he chews, looking to her with a giddy expression, as if to wordlessly ask “isn’t this the greatest?”
Chewing her own apple, she nods at him, a little caramel left on her lips catching the light. Poe finds himself staring at her mouth, then at all of her face, watching her as she looks around at the farm and its attendees. He admires the shape of her eyes, the color of them as the light filters through her irises. He watches her lashes when she blinks, her brows as they make minuscule journeys to mark her reaction to the sights around her.
Poe watches the rise and fall of her cheeks as she chews, the form of her chin, the curvature of her neck. He notes the way her hair moves as they walk, and how her breath forms tiny, fleeting clouds in the brisk air.
Slowing his gait until he comes to a standstill with her by his side, Poe allows his eyes to slide back down to her lips, transfixed by that little remnant of sweetness perched on them. Noticing they’ve stopped, Poe’s beloved turns her head and quirks a brow, swallowing her most recent bite of apple.
“Something wrong?”
“No,” he says softly, gaze unwavering from her mouth. “Hold still.”
Tenderly, he unlinks their arms and uses his free hand to lift her chin up, then ducks his head down, pressing their lips together with a contented, pleasured sigh.
A certain kind of relief fills Poe; taking in all of her beauty had built such a pressure up in his chest, located somewhere behind his sternum, and the kiss seems to alleviate the ache, the longing for her. As he turns his head to deepen the kiss, she makes a soft sound of surprise, but adjusts to the kiss quickly, her freed hand slipping up to his shoulder to tug him closer.
Half of a heartbeat passes before she is surprised once again, this time by the feeling of Poe ever-so-lightly swiping his tongue over her lower lip, probing her mouth coyly. He loves the sound she makes at the unexpected move, and he can’t help but chuckle into the kiss at her adorable reaction. The honeyed taste of caramel sings on her lips, and Poe gives another pleased sigh; kissing her is, in and of itself, one hell of a treat.
Poe pulls back with a satisfied, almost smug expression plastered on his face, eyes scanning her visage to gather her reaction. She blinks, taken aback, but does not seem at all unhappy with what just happened. Poe can’t help but think that she looks adorable as she stands there, dazedly holding a caramel apple with one hand, another on his shoulder, her eyes wide as she reels, trying to understand what could have prompted such a passionate gesture.
“W... well, that was very, um--” she stumbles at last, her words getting mixed in a girlish giggle as she puts her free hand on her cheek, as if to ground herself and check that she was really here, experiencing all of this.
“You had a little schmutz,” Poe offers, his tone jaunty and flirtatious. “Someone had to deal with it, get you cleaned up and presentable.”
“O-oh, mhm, yeah, absolutely.”
Her voice sounds vaguely hazy, somewhere far-off and dreamy. That’s the effect he’d hoped to have.
“Though I must say, it was a little, ahem, uh, jarring? To be kissed like that while you’re dressed like... that.”
To punctuate her sentence, Poe’s beloved pokes his belly, right in the middle of the felted foliage on his sweater. He balks; he’d forgotten how he looked, too caught up in the savoir-faire smoothness of his wooing of the woman before him. All of a sudden, he feels an embarrassed heat rise to his cheeks, realizing what a goon he must’ve looked like, wearing this gauche sweater and kissing her so abruptly and intensely.
He puts a hand over his eyes and groans.
“I’m gonna go lay in front of the tractor,” he mumbles. “Gonna let it run me over.”
“No, nooo, no!,” she coos sympathetically, rubbing a hand on his shoulder, unable to suppress a little bubble of laughter. “It was super cute!”
She tugs at the collar of his sweater, lowering his face to hers again, and she pecks each of his cheeks repeatedly, the smell of caramel and her particular perfume filling Poe’s senses. He can hear her giggling to herself as she smooches him, and he finds the sound infectious enough to lower his hand from his face, if only so he can have an unobstructed view of her smile.
“C’mon, don’t be shy, honey! I loved it!”
“You sure?,” Poe pushes, pressing his forehead to hers. “I’d hate for you to feel like you just got Frenched by a geriatric.”
Poe watches her roll her eyes and gently shove at his shoulder as she steps back, linking her free hand with his, weaving their fingers together. She rocks their hands back and forth, swaying them as she begins to walk. Poe follows suit, still burning with lingering shame.
“I’d let you know if it bothered me, dearest,” she hums as she takes a bite of her apple, chewing it thoughtfully. After she swallows, she turns and meets his eye. “Now, do I have any schmutz?”
Poe smiles shyly.
“Maybe a little...”
“Would you mind getting it for me, then?” She tilts her chin upward, giving him a teasing smile. “I think you’ll do a thorough job of making me presentable, was it?”
He grins from ear to ear; he fully intends to do a very thorough job, indeed, gaudy sweater be damned.
#messages#long post#santiago garcia#poe dameron#gif warning#oh my GOD i took forever writing this because ive been In A Weird Brain Zone#im so sorry i took so long!! and these are still somehow so short!!#but at least i got it donezo so that's nice!!#also why am i posting this at 2 am? because i had to make myself finish it or it'd never get done! but now it is so :3
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A JonDaisy fic - Chapter One
The initial ascent out of the Buried was a long one, even longer than the walk and crawl into it. Each drag closer to the surface, every inch moved through thick, clinging dirt and mud and soil, felt like hours even if it really was only seconds, and Jon dragged himself out of the ground, out of the small wooden coffin, with mud in his hair and dirt under his nails and little loose stones and clumps of soil tickling against his skin, under his clothes, staining his skin an even darker brown as he collapses on the smooth, cool hardwood floor, exhausted and weak.
He could barely acknowledge Daisy landing next to him, shuddering and clinging, her hand finding his desperately, clutching like her life depends on it. Doesn't see her turn to him, eyes squinting and tired but flickering greedily over his face, taking it in, the first thing she's properly seen in six months, even as she gives a faint greeting to Basira. She doesn't even have time to turn to her properly, either, just drags her feet out of the coffin, hand still curled around Jon's, before she proceeds to collapse as the exhaustion hits her hard. That hadn't stopped Basira from lunging forward to check on her, though, or Jon, although her reluctance was clear when she turned to him.
That's why he brushed her off. Struggled to his feet himself, bones aching and the weight of the world pressing down on him, and stumbles around trying to find anything he can to make Daisy's rest more comfortable. After all, there's no way he's going to be able to lift her, despite the weight loss, the muscle mass decrease, the soft, gentle limpness to her pale body that almost makes her seem dead. He would be worried she might be, if it weren't for the slow, shallow shift of her chest, her stomach, rising and falling with each breath. No chance of lifting her, even as painfully close to death as she is.
Finding something, anything, to prop her head up with, to cover her body with, proves more difficult than first expected. He ends up having to steal a pillow from Melanie's lair, an old, worn blanket from his own office, and tries to shift her out the way, just so they can get the coffin out the room when they call artifact storage. After that, the first thing Jon does is get himself a coffee. He knows, rationally, he should read a statement, get some sleep, actually look after himself, but he gets the feeling Basira won't let him do that until she's gotten answers from him. He's gotten far too used to, he feels, her looking down on him and treating him like crap when she wasn't using him herself to get what she wanted. But he won't say anything about it, either, not really. Not how he wants. He doesn't think it's worth the hassle.
"So. You got Daisy out."
"Yes, Basira. I did." He sounds tired, even to himself, sighing softly as he talks, eyes on the kettle brewing in front of him.
"Without my say-so."
"Quite frankly, Basira, I didn't think I really needed your say-so. You were gone a week, two weeks, longer than you were supposed to be, Melanie certainly was in no state or position to do anything about it either, and leaving Daisy down there any longer would have been cruel. The worst that would have happened is that I would have been stuck too. But I wasn't. I got us out. I got her out. Which is what you wanted, isn't it?"
He's not being snappy. Not being snarky. No rudeness or anger in his tone. Just that slow, dead tiredness, one he feels in his bones, as he pours coffee grounds into his mug and pours hot water over them once the switch flicks on the kettle. The sound of bubbling, pouring water fills the silence between them as Basira tries to find words. He does it for her, once his mug is in his hands.
"I'm going to find some people from Artifact Storage to take the coffin upstairs, out of the way, and then I'm going to go take a nap in my office." He's turning before she can say anything, downing half his coffee in one, and walks out of the breakroom, the woman staring after him in mild disbelief and a frosty, almost angry frustration. But she doesn't stop him, and he doesn't wait for her to.
Two hours later the coffin is moved, and Jon had convinced Melanie to help move Basira to the couch, up against the wall and what he usually uses to rest. He, instead, sleeps at his desk, halfway through sorting through statements, coffee mug empty and cold on the end of his desk, safely away from any damage it could inflict or receive. His office is usually dark, so being disturbed by lights is unlikely, and he makes sure to close the blinds in his window and close his door securely before settling down to work and then, eventually, pass out, exhausted and grimy with an ache in his bones he's not sure will ever leave again. He isn't sure if he dreams or not, either. Everything is a soft, filtered blur, flickering too fast to keep track, really. Too many scenes melting through his head, flickering like an old VHS tape, sound like muted static in his head. He thinks he might be dreaming, because sometimes everything will stop, set on a particular scene, stuck in slow motion, and he's forced to watch, dishevelled and dirty, in a torn shirt and stained tie and his hair barely tied back, as he watches an endless hunt, watches friends slaughter each other, watches a man confronted by something posing as his cousin but isn't.
He's jerked awake just as an eighteen year old, book in hand, opens the door to an old house with silver threads around his limbs, ready to be jerked inside and swallowed by the darkness and the creature just inside it. It's Daisy that wakes him, blonde hair grown out from her time in the dirt and dark, tufts around her ears and eyes tired but calm when she looks down at him.
"Daisy," he tries to say, but it's mumbled and slurred with sleep, and he realises he was drooling while he slept, sleeve slick with it, and he wipes it from his mouth and chin absently, cheeks burning. "I, uh, you're-you're awake."
"No shit, captain obvious," is her snorted reply, and he has to laugh, a little, eyes closing briefly.
"Does, ah...Does Basira know you're awake?"
"No. Wanted to check you were alright first." She's quiet, as she looks at him, watches him sit up and rub his face and yawn, forcing himself awake as he reaches for his coffee. The look on his face as he takes a sip makes her laugh, and he shoots her a glare as he spits the cold liquid back into his mug.
"I'm glad you find that amusing, Detective. Would you like to drink cold coffee?"
"Mm. Not anything you've spat in, thanks. Looking a bit of a mess, too, Sims." Daisy is smiling when she says it, quiet and almost relaxed, and Jon rolls his eyes, fighting down his own smile as he sets his mug back down, sliding it back slightly.
"Yes, well, I did have to save a Detective from an eldritch horror in the form of the crushing bottom of the Earth," he says dryly, and lets his lips twitch up as he tips his head to the side slightly. "And really, you can hardly talk about how filthy I am when you probably look just as bad. I suppose we could both use the clean-up."
He gets to his feet, stretching his arms above his head, and then sighs softly. He's still tired, which is really only to be expected, but going back to sleep doesn't sound particularly appealing, either. He'll go home, he thinks. Shower and maybe find food and try to clear his head of the Buried, and the coffin, and the Archives. Just...everything.
That sounds like a good idea.
"What are you thinking about?" Daisy is watching him, eyes big and soft, too big for her face, too soft for the fiery, snapping Detective he knew before this.
"...Having a nice hot shower and watching crappy TV," he sighs, and she smiles, running a hand through the long, messy hair falling to her shoulders, over the small tufts just reaching her ears.
"Sounds like heaven right now. Going home would…"
It kind of hits her, then. The fact she doesn't have a home. Doesn't have anything, most likely. Six months of disappearing off the face of the Earth leaves her with the clothes on her back and not much else. It hits hard; hits her right in the chest, sends her heart clenching tightly, lungs too tight, breath stolen for a moment.
Jon can tell, too. Knows it, like he knows that sugar is sweet and dirt is brown. His heart aches for hers, for a second.
"Maybe talk to Basira?" He asks, hesitant but gentle. "She might be able to help."
"...Yeah. Maybe." She hasn't moved, staring at his desk, and her voice is flat, empty, but he can sense the hurt there nonetheless. "I'll...I'm fine."
"...Get some food, Daisy." Jon knows exactly how she feels and all he can do is hope she'll be able to work something out until getting her own apartment again. "Talk to Basira. It'll work out."
She just nods, and he sighs, hesitates.
"I'm...I'll go and get some tea. Coffee. Basira should be...somewhere. Maybe the back of the Archives? She should be around. I'll be back soon."
Daisy isn't there, when he gets back, but the lack of dirt from her shoes indicates she didn't exactly walk out. He's not surprised; even walking for him is a struggle, like this. Still, he can only hope Basira looks after her.
The confrontation that happens next week is unexpected. Things had gone more or less smoothly, since Daisy had gotten back. She was getting the use of her legs back, slowly, with crutches and physio-therapy and help from Basira, when she was available. She was averse to being alone, they all quickly learnt, although that wasn't unexpected, at least in Jon's humble opinion. Being alone in crushing darkness for six months would cause anyone to be terrified of being alone, honestly.
Apparently, Basira was not as attuned to this simple information as Jon was. She didn't seem to quite understand why Daisy was reluctant to do things alone, why she was always hanging around either her or Jon, or Melanie when she was available. That was, in Jon's opinion, the most likely reason that this had happened.
"Daisy has a favour to ask, Jon." Basira's tone was brisk, stern, arms crossed over her chest as she looked down at the man at his desk, looking a bit better than he had done in a while but she was betting that was just due to his recent return and recovery from the coffin. He's staring up at her, hesitant, confused, although he does relax slightly when Daisy is mentioned, those large dark eyes flickering to her face instead.
Daisy is...slightly uncomfortable, asking this, simply to value what little privacy Jon has left being violated. But Basira has made her feelings clear, and she didn't feel it fair to stay any longer.
"...I need a place to stay."
The silence that follows stretches into the air for what could be years, time trickling to a stop, breaths frozen and hearts still as the information melts into Jon's brain and tugs at the door in his mind, spilling free the information that tells him exactly why Daisy does.
He can't find it in him to be surprised, and he hates it.
"...Right. Well. I...I suppose I could...arrange something. Yes. Well, if you're, ah, quite comfortable…"
Basira isn't. He could sense that a mile away. Two. Ten. It's the last thing she wants, Daisy staying with him. Other than Daisy staying with her any more. Too needy, too demanding, too anxious and afraid and panicked over nothing, in her head. Too silly over the most pathetic things. He keeps his comments to himself, as Daisy nods, arms wound around herself and barely able to meet his face. Keeps his comments to himself and wonders, idly, if any of his clothes will fit her. Probably, with the state she's in.
Hopefully.
"Good. Well...I, ah...I can take you in, certainly." He gives a smile, a little awkward, but he's trying to take it into stride for Daisy's sake. She's just watching him, eyes unfocused, clinging to herself tightly as she stands there, and Jon can see the panic bubbling in her chest. The fear of being alone. Of being in the dark. Of being buried alive under all her fear.
He's touching her before he can quite stop himself, gently taking a hand, instinctive and natural.
"You're okay, Daisy," he murmurs, voice low, soothing. "You're okay. We're out. We're out and we're not going back. I promise."
All she can do is nod, and cling to him, and blink the tears from her eyes, mouth soft and quivering with her anxiety and terror. He doesn't know what she's thinking of, not right now, but he holds her hand and murmurs to her gently, softly, while Basira just sighs.
"I'll leave her with you. Make sure she eats."
Jon just ignores her, stroking his thumb over Daisy's hand, a quiet reminder of himself and Georgie in similar positions, when he was trapped in her apartment and she'd hold him, soothing, after a nightmare. He wasn't even sure he'd ever see Georgie again.
She deserved better than him. So did Daisy. And Martin. So had Sasha. And Tim.
They all deserved more than him, more than his not-enoughness, but he couldn't dwell on that, even as it threatened to curl up his throat as an aching guilty sadness and take over his thoughts completely. Couldn't dwell because there were, always, more important things than him to deal with. Daisy was more important, despite everything she'd done. She was sane enough, sober enough, to admit to those wrongdoings, even though Basira tried to protect her, an old reflex of "protect my own" that Jon had picked up was more than just about any feelings the two had for each other. Cops stuck together, even out of the force.
He wasn't sure how well Daisy would follow that rule now, though.
She seemed better, after some tea and a Statement or two made by Jon. Seemed to settle, leaning against the side of his desk and listening to him talk, steady and secure, voice rising and falling and twisting with the words on the page, shifting from quiet and calm, steady, to lively and exaggerated in seconds. It was a comfort, she found. It wasn't the first time she'd come to him for company, nor would it be the last, but she was always amazed by how...accommodating he tried to be. How easy he was to be around, even with the darkness of his eyes during a statement, the slight glassy sheen when he was knowing something, looking for an answer, the double edge to his voice and the tremor of muted static, like pins and needles but painless, running through someones' throat, over their tongue and probing at their lips. Even then, he was pleasant company, voice soft and laugh gentle, unthreatening, careful. Each fidget and shift and flutter of his hands, fingers twining, picking at threads in clothing, just show off an anxious, shy man, terrified of doing the wrong thing and desperate to do the right one. She knows, in the past, consumed by the Hunt and her own paranoia and desperation for a chase, she would have seen that as a sign of weakness, of guilt (although a different kind of the one he actually feels), of his own exposure of his wrong-doings and crimes and would have taken him down effortlessly, mercilessly. Would have enjoyed it.
She's not like that, after the Buried. She knows he's not like that, either. He tries his best, she can see, and even with his flaws, she can't help but be almost...endeared by him. He was the one of the only comforts she had, and it was why she often found herself in his office so often.
If he minded, he never said. Seemed quite happy to have her around and tried to keep up conversation, as awkward and nervous as he could be, as tired as he was. Jon was warm and sweet on his best days, a smile on his lips as he bantered and joked with her, making her coffee and going to lunch with her whenever she wasn't with Basira. Which was good, because he didn't eat otherwise, as far as she was aware. He'd claim he'd eaten, if asked, but except for their lunches she isn't sure he genuinely does.
She has a feeling today is one of those days.
"...You went to get lunch today?"
He starts, at that, glancing up, brows furrowing slightly.
"Uh...I...Suppose. Yeah, I could get lunch. Basira busy?"
She shrugs, sipping her coffee as she watches him. "Don't know. But you look like you could use it."
"Thank you, Daisy." He's smiling, though, a small, amused little thing as he looks up at her, even with his voice dry and flat. "I appreciate your boost in my confidence and self-image."
"What I'm here for, Sims."
She's so casual with him, sometimes. So relaxed and calm, it's genuinely surprising when he compares it to the half feral woman who tried to slit his throat and dump his body in the woods like she did with all the other monsters she came across. It certainly isn't a bad thing, though. Jon is in need of friends, any he can feasibly get without them ending up hating him for one reason or another, and the fact he's found one in Daisy is...An unexpected comfort, but a welcome one. She cares for him, in her own way, and he knows making him eat lunch with her is just the way she expresses her worry for his health, her quiet concern.
He really does appreciate it, the new little routine they've struck up over the past week or two, although he is trying to push the thought of her living with him to the side, for now. Getting lunch with her is strange enough, even if it's like lunch with anyone else he's ever gone with; they order and he pays and sometimes they'll eat his leftovers if he manages to convince them he really is well and truly full. She doesn't usually eat his leftovers, eats as little as him some days, but at least she is eating. At least he is eating.
The café they go to is small, a friendly little thing with a few neat tables and warm lighting and smiling servers with tired eyes. The entrance is at the left of the building, several tables dotted around the center and a few booths on the sides, and there's not that many people there; a couple or two, a small group of men probably on a lunch break, just the usual crowd. Daisy leads him to one of the booths on the side, sitting down next to him and pulling up a menu.
"Anything at you want?"
"Not really." Jon shrugs, idky scratching at the table top with a finger. "I'm just...Thinking."
"About?"
"Whether my spare sheets are clean for you."
That makes her bark out a laugh, despite herself, despite the situation, and she rolls her eyes with a smile. "I see. That's a shame. I guess I'm ordering for you."
Jon just looks at her. His mouth is drawn in a thin, unimpressed line, brow raised, and he looks so displeased it's almost funny.
"You act like I don't know what to order you, Sims."
"And everyone claims I'm the stalker," he murmurs, but there's a small smile on his lips as he picks up the menu. He ends up ordering just a small plate of sausage and chips, and Daisy gets herself some gravy and chips, and they eat quietly together. They don't feel the need to talk, with the sounds of the café surrounding them, the street from outside, but if Daisy links their pinky fingers together under the table neither comment on it. She needs the support, sometimes. The physical contact, the reminder that someone is there with her. It's common with Jon, since they got out the Buried; little touches, panicked glances, checking that he's still there with soft calls of his name. He's used to it, by now, having her call for him then not actually wanting to talk, just wanting to know he's around, wanting to know she's not alone. Jon indulges her, too. Having her stressed and anxious and on the way to a panic attack isn't worth not holding her hand for a few minutes, and he wasn't exactly opposed to it either, the reassurance she's there, too.
Talking about it would probably be beneficial, but Daisy was determined to return things to normal, as much as she could anyway. She'd only talk about it when necessary, and even then she was reluctant. Jon understood. He genuinely did. There were times when he was in his office, lights off, room illuminated only by the glow of his laptop screen and the blinking light of his tape recorder, that he'd get the overwhelming aching urge to cry and yell and panic, to instinctively reach for Daisy, to grab her and drag her to safety, that he'd feel the heavy, crushing weight down on his spine again. It terrified him, and that was the reason why he didn't speak of it. Who was going to offer him support, anyway? Basira, who only wanted to use him when she deemed necessary? Melanie, who didn't trust him as far as she could throw him and barely tolerated his presence? Daisy, who was in just as bad a place he was, almost certainly worse, and who, judging from how Basira had been looking lately, hardly slept? No. No, he didn't have anyone to go to, and he wasn't looking for sympathy regardless. There were far too many people who deserved it more than him.
Which is why he held her pinky finger under the table, and let her entwine their fingers once they were out the building, and held her upright when she leaned into him for support and comfort.
It's why he let her come home with him that night, and fell asleep on the sofa with their hands clasped tightly and her head on his chest.
#tma#the magnus archives#jondaisy#jon/daisy#slow burn#chapter one#3.8k for this one! just a warning#very long#it needs polishing in some areas but#i hope you enjoy anyway
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Solo Traveling
I’ll first start off by saying and acknowledging that I do come from a well household. My mom runs her own dry cleaners and my dad works at a hospital for computer programming. Wasn’t like that always. In elementary school, I had classmates leave school to go on vacation. Super jealous that they went because I hated being in school 🤣🤣🤣 so the few times I could go on vacation was during like the major breaks or holidays. As I got older and family tensions increased, i began traveling with other people. Let’s just say after a series of not knowing other people’s personalities, cliques, and plus ones....I called it quits with group traveling. It’s a huge part of why my extroverted personality changed to more of an introvert/ extrovert. Since I have my own money, why not travel by myself.
I’ll talk about the cons of traveling solo first.
It can be very expensive: even if you do go with a group...be prepared to shell out a couple of dollars depending on where your going, staying, and activities
Have to be more aware of the surroundings: there has been a couple of times I’ve been exhausted because I was trying to be more aware of what’s going on. I have to watch my own back without relaying on somebody.
It can be scary: not going to lie...the day of trips I get really bad anxiety that I kinda want to throw up. Scratch that, I have thrown up. For example, when I went to D.C, I wasn’t worried about Lyft or Uber because my big bro was picking me up. However other airports....I have no idea where lyft or Uber would pick me up. Certain airports like O’Hare Chicago airport has two levels. One is for traditional friend/ family pick up. The other level is for rideshares. Ever since that mess I decided to look up airports ahead of time and look at maps for where to find the designated area. Helps a lot of stress out.
Benefits of solo traveling
Lollllll there wasn’t a whole lot of cons. Granted not everyone is going to have the same experience as me. So this is all from my personal experience.
Planning can be fun: When you travel alone, YOU are in charge of everything. I’m every pop culture orientated so I’m looking for the best spots for photos, food, shopping, etc. it’s the millennial (probably spelled it wrong) in me.
Moving at my own pace: so this was the best part for me. I’m a huge theme park junky! When I went to Orlando with my parents back in 2017 we did Disney World all in one day. Yes it can be possible to visit all 4 parks in one day😂 but that trip in general had the most arguments I had with my mom. She basically complained about all the walking we had to do. Also couldn’t watch fireworks. Everything was so rushed that back in 2019, I did a redo Disney World trip. Oh! I’ll definitely be doing a multi part blog for that. So when you travel by yourself you don’t have to deal with “I don’t want to do this!” “Why we going here?” Less arguments...PERIODT
Moving at your own time: this kinda goes with your own pace. I’m a huge HUGE be on time person. One of my sayings is “If your early, ya on time. If your on time, ya late. If your late...don’t bother showing up”. It’s one of my biggest pet peeves when people aren’t on time. Idk if it’s just Asians but Asian people AINT NEVER ON TIME FOR ANYTHING! So you have free reign with time.
Flexibility: This was one of the things I found super awesome when it came to solo trips. My schedule to travel had so much flexibility. And since I was working in retail, I could do what I want...per say. If my days weren’t approved I’d still go on this trip🤣 but I found traveling during the off season for holidays or non busy or non important seasons were a lot cheaper. That’s what I kinda wanted to make up for; not being able to travel when I was younger and leaving school to go 🤣 now that I can...✌️
No cliques: personality wise, I describe myself as a walking tv show. So picture every Disney show, Nickelodeon, and VH1 reality shows all in one person. I really don’t fit into a mold so I call it an outsider habit. I thought I’d get super lonely when traveling alone but oddly...I’m more comfortable with it. There is this no judgement zone when traveling alone. When I went to Universal Studio with my parents, it was “why do you want to buy this” or “how old are you?” First of all...you can never be too old of anything:) This might be a con for others, so it all depends🤷♂️ besides with technology I’m able to FaceTime, Live Stream, record things I want others to see. Ha! This is what this blog is for!
In no way shape or form am I throwing shade to group trips. I call those experiences that helped shape my travel knowledge. I’m always grateful for that. But the couple solo travel tips I’ll give is this.
Research! I can’t stress this enough. Knowing where you are going can save so much hassle. If your traveling internationally know where your country embassy is just in case. Second, the culture of the city or country. Being knowledgeable can help avoid any cultural ignorance, stereotypes.
Flights: alright flights can be very touchy subject. I usually find great deals with Southwest when they offer sales. Sometimes buying two - one way tickets is cheaper than round trip. They also offer two free checked bags, one carry one, and one personal items. If Southwest is a little out of your budget, don’t worry! Other airlines have great prices. I use Google Flights.
Train: if your destination is a couple hours away, I’d suggest taking Amtrak. Believe it or not Amtrak depending on what city you go too have awesome deals. If you follow them on Instagram they have beautiful photos of scenic railways. When I was younger I had a huge obsession with trains. I had every train from Thomas The Tank Engine. 😂 anyways, trains also have dining cars, and sleeping cars. Some have observation decks so you can do a 360* of the surroundings
Car: I put this last for transportation. Believe it or not, traveling by car may sound cost efficient but it’s really not. Just from my personal experience from driving to Branson Missouri, Tennessee, Chicago. There is gas you have to pay and hotels can charge a ridiculous amount for overnight parking x the amount of nights your staying. WHEW CHILEEEE THE MESS!
Hotels & location: This is the boujee side of me. I like to be comfortable after a day of riding rides or exploring. Just being able to act like this is my home for the time being. I usually use Bookings.com, Trivago.com, etc. to find the best one. Use filters if you need to find exactly what you need. When I travel to concerts, I try finding hotels close to the venue. That way I’m not paying extra for lyft, Uber, or taxis. BTW, don’t ever take taxis after concerts. Such a rip off...idk if there is a law that prevents them for jacking up their prices.
Air BnB’s: So I found this to be half and half. Sometimes it’s less expensive sometimes...not so much. Air BnB is pretty much either paying for a room or whole house for a certain amount of days. My big bro introduced me to it when we went to LA. I used it on my road trip to LA with a “friend” who is no longer a friend. But it was more of other situations I don’t really use. Honestly after seeing videos of how people were being racist to other guests, that was a major turn off to me. Second I had a friend who posted a conversation of a Air BnB host who tried to play her. Yes the app does have host ratings and reviews but there are so many fees and rules that it’s like, I might as well pay for the hotel. Again it’s totally up to you but staying at a random strangers house....Issa no dawg if I’m traveling by myself.
BUDGETING IS CRUCIAL!! Anytime I go anywhere I budget how much I’m spending. So with that being said, I get all information from attractions I want to go see, restaurants, ride share, everything. You don’t have to be so exact like me but it certainly helps me to know exactly how much I’m spending. Lol
Oh!!!! Sign up for reward programs at any restaurant you eat, shops you shop, or hotels! I do it all the time because for a lot of reward programs just by signing up you get a freebie. So why not take advantage of it.
So I wrote this blog up at like 5:30AM in the morning 🤣🤣🤣😭 I know I’m in for a struggle. But I decided to do this blog post because I was just going through my social media of all the travels I did. I really hope it does help you guys out a lot.
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♻️What can I do about Global Warming?♻️
Hey guys, so global warming is scary stuff and i feel bad reblogging all these bad posts without spreading news on what we can do. Now theres plenty of resources out there for further reading but ill try to save you some time by compiling this post! But sorry i cant save time on how lengthy this post is. Sorry fam.
So, I’m just gonna list off some reminders about things that have an impact for a better environment! Because there is stuff we can do, and we have 12 years to do it, so let’s get on it! TLDR? Skip to the bottom! So here’s some things we can change:
Unplug things when not in use; is unplugging a hassle? Get power strips so you can turn the whole strip on and off when not in use! Apparently there are phone controlled power strips as well.
Invest in energy saving appliances! (Washers that only use as much water as needed, shower head controls, energy saving lightbulbs etc.)
Don’t full blast the water you use if you don’t need that much pressure. (ie: brushing your teeth or washing ur hands? You can put the faucet on with a lighter water flow, this saves water!)
Next time you need a new car, try to look out for electric cars. Automobiles are the second worst pollutant behind the food industry, and electric cars would make a huge difference. My friend’s mom has one and it’s a very nice car, and huge. They’re not all the silly tiny cars you see people make fun of all the time on TV.
New car’s and finding even used electric cars can still be hard in this year though, so carpooling, using public transit, or even biking when possible has a huge impact.
As for the food industry, try to adopt a plant based diet. This can be good for you, but it’s good for the environment because the farming and fishing industries are really hurting the atmosphere. You don’t need to go full vegan or vegitarian though, you can opt instead for grass fed meat. (Cows being fed wheat isn’t in their diet, so they make more gas, methane, at such a large rate with how big the food industry is, and it is really cutting into the atmosphere.) Better yet, you could look into farmer’s markets and shopping local, as they are a lot smaller, but also tend to give their animals proper diets.
Another thing you can do for food is grow your own veggies/get your own animals! A lot of pollution is put out transporting food, so the more you can get from your backyard, the better, as well as cheaper! Pot a few veggies on your porch each summer, even if it’s only a few, every bit counts.
On the topic of growing stuff, grow some trees! More trees on the earth, the more they filter the air. You may even have communities nearby that go around planting trees; try searching and volunteering for one if you got the time.
Waste less food, only buy as much as you’ll eat. (food decomposing/molding releases methane.)
Get a tap water filter and reusable water bottle to drink tap! This will save you SO much money on water. Plus, water bottles are one of the worst things that take up landfills.
Recycle as much as possible, and not only your trash, but by making less trash. Bring things to thrift/buy things from thrift. Use reusable grocery bags.
As well as using your own water bottle with your tap, you can bring your own mugs to coffee shops! Starbucks discounts 10 cents per drink, and dunkin donut’s does a discount too! You can look up your favorite coffee shop or ask if they offer this, though I’m sure they do! (Dunks is also going green by phasing out the foam cups for paper cups!)
Allrighty. Well, that’s a lot of fun stuff we can do day to day in our personal lives, but we’ve all heard this before in school about how its good for the environment, granted now, we really should adopt this widespread in the next 12 years, but what we also really need to do is contact our representatives/congress to make a change. Why this was made a politcal issue as to whether it is believed in or not is ridiculous as it is proven science over years of study, but there are a lot of things we could push for, such as putting a price on emissions, cap and trade systems, or general overall systematic changes over food or fossil fuel industries, and just making change a priority. Some of these practices have been put to work in other countries, and they work! Do some research and let our representatives know that it is a priority to us.
We can also contact companies directly to encourage them to change their practices for a greener world. As we saw dunkin donut’s is already on it, and companies often DO listen to customer feedback. Heck, I get free coupons every time I leave feedback, so it’s worth a shot if enough consumers show interest. They could change the diets they feed their meat, ask to change their packaging, etc.
We have a voice, so we should use it if we want to see change. We need to show that this is public interest so we can see some change. Do some research on your own, look to environmental communities, and try to ask for change. I’d like to have a habitable world in my future, hopefully everyone else does too.
At the very least, staying educated on this issue can make a difference too. Do what you can!
For a little further reading: BBC has plenty of articles, and here’s some info on carbon pricing
#global warming#climate change#environment#environmental science#apologies this is so lengthy i was gonna split it into 2 but eh#but really this should be made a priority for all of us#long post
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A Long Talk With Lin-Manuel Miranda On Mary Poppins Returns, Hamilton in Puerto Rico, and What He’ll Do Next
Lin-Manuel Miranda slumps into a chair, exhausted. For an instant. Then, all of a sudden, he’s gleefully leaping on top of the chair to demonstrate a Dick Van Dyke dance move. The whiplash moment fits the exhilarating and strange point at which Miranda finds himself: chugging through the meat grinder of international publicity appearances for Mary Poppins Returns while eagerly looking ahead to two other returns — to starring in Hamilton in Puerto Rico in January, a series of shows that will benefit hurricane recovery efforts, and to his Washington Heights apartment in February, where he can start writing one of “three big ideas. It’s too early to know what form they will take — stage, film, or TV.” All while gearing up to direct his first movie and navigating the life-changing fame and presidential Twitter insults that the success of Hamilton has wrought. Tomorrow he flies to Mexico City, followed by Paris, then London, then Miami. For now, though, Miranda is fully, happily present in this Central Park South hotel room, his dark-brown eyes gleaming as he claims to feel no pressure to follow up the show that certified him as a Broadway genius.
...
Did you underestimate the amount of racism that still exists in this country?
Yeah, I think I did. I think I really did. And here’s where I was naïve: All my life I’ve known Latinos are growing in this country in greater numbers. I’m Latino, so I’ve only always seen that as a good thing. I never saw that as a threat to anyone else. And obviously there are people in this country for whom that is seen as a threat, [and who feel] that we are somehow less American than anyone else who comes here to make a living and make a life for themselves. I find that heartbreaking, but that’s a reality.
What’s an example of experiencing racism in your own life? Quiara [Alegría Hudes] wrote it into the screenplay of the new In the Heights movie, actually! We were at a theater function and I made the mistake of wearing a tux while Puerto Rican. Here in the city. If I told you the name of the theater company they’d die a thousand deaths of embarrassment. But a lady called me over, like this, very friendly, waving. And I thought, Oh, it’s someone who recognizes me from In the Heights. And she goes, “My friend didn’t get her salad.”
If I’m standing outside the wrong building in L.A., somebody’s gonna hand me a fucking pair of car keys. Racism is alive and well in this country.
Ever been hassled by the cops? I have not. I’ve been lucky, but I also think that’s because I grew up with: “Put your hands out. Be afraid.” Giuliani is what he is now to the country. But when I was a teenager, it was black and brown kids getting shot, and he would release their police record. Immediately. It was that “He’s no angel” thing, times infinity, with Giuliani. So I was always very scared and shy around cops as a teenager in the subway.
...
The show is big business. There are a lot of people’s livelihoods involved in Hamilton. Does that sometimes constrain you from saying what you believe? I don’t think so. I think that we’re aware of that. I mean, I don’t think you’re going to get any late-night benders from me on Twitter. Because I am very aware that we employ a lot of people.
So there is a responsibility that comes with that. We check in with our companies pretty often, actually, when it comes to that stuff in particular — when political stuff happens; like when the whole Pence thing happened, we had to increase security because of those tweets. The president knows when he tweets something that he’s painting a target on their back, in a certain sense. That’s what makes it pernicious. We had conversations in the wake of that, when we’ve suddenly found the spotlight on our Broadway show. Yes, you take what you say seriously. But you try not to ever filter yourself, because then who wins?
A journalist friend of mine says she wishes you would express your anger for the sake of good more often. Is that fair? Not entirely. Maybe. I don’t know. What I do know is that when it comes to social media and expressing that anger, I don’t know how I could be any more out than I already am. I’m singing lullabies at marches. My father had a march on Mar-a-Lago last month! But when it comes to the way I enter the world, I don’t want to be angry all the time. If I see 25 people tweeting the same article, do I need to be the 26th person to tweet it?
But you’re not just No. 26. Yes. No. I understand that my voice carries. And when I tweet I’m fully aware of the reach of it. But at the same time I also want to get kindness back from the world. If I tweet anger at the world I’ll get anger back. Twitter is the proof of it. I don’t want to live in that space.
...
In January you are returning to Hamilton for three weeks of shows in San Juan. Talking with some Puerto Rican friends, they love that you’re coming. They think it’s important. They’re hugely grateful for the millions of dollars you’ve raised to rebuild the island. But they find the glamorization of Hamilton ironic, in that they believe he’s the guy who set up this banking system that’s killing Puerto Rico. Well, here’s my answer: I don’t believe he’s a hero. I believe he’s complicated. I think that’s absolutely valid, about the banks. What is also true is that this guy who wrote about a hurricane that hit his island got off the island, and I saw my father in that guy. The only thing I take issue with — and that’s absolutely true and it’s absolutely valid about Hamilton and the financial system — is I don’t believe I glamorize him. I believe I’m trying to paint someone who is not a statue. The show is not an ode to debt and trading. That system has so many faults. I’m just trying to paint as much of this guy as I can, good and bad.
You should read the rest. It’s all great.
#lin manuel miranda#mary poppins#hamilton#politics and advocacy#in the heights#fosse verdon#interviews#vulture
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Top Tech Influencers On YouTube
get more views on youtube
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Whether it's daily, weekly, or somewhere in between, having a regular upload schedule and communicating that schedule with your audience will give them something to anticipate, creating a dedicated subscriber base. Think about it this way: Would you watch your favorite TV show if you had no idea when the next episode would air? Probably not—too much hassle. YouTube viewers act the same way: If they know what's coming up, they'll tune in.
5 Best Ways How To Start how to get views on youtube
These general laws, in other words, replace thinking about specific "laws", for example "human nature". In modern science, human nature is part of the same general scheme of cause and effect, obeying the same general laws, as all other things. The above-mentioned difference between accidental and substantial properties, and indeed knowledge and opinion, also disappear within this new approach that aimed to avoid metaphysics. Your video title is the most important indicator for Youtube what topic your video is about and will rank it accordingly when users search for videos on Youtube. Don't stuff your title with keywords and keep the video title under 50 characters, since Youtube will cut off titles after that. You don't need to buy a new computer to watch the live streaming channels and sports. You can capture this year's nfl football games online by simply using your current get more views on youtube computer. The pc only needs to have a speed of atleast 400 MHz and a virtual memory of more than 500mbs to be able to stream live free sports channels online. In this post, I'm going to expand on that answer and outline the core values most businesses can hope to gain from YouTube as a marketing get youtube views channel - detailing how those values can best be achieved, and by inference, when YouTube is an appropriate platform to host your videos. That said, what Sadler does is simply a natural progression in advertising, according to Kevin Dugan, director of social marketing at Empower Media Marketing in Cincinnati. "It's far from a new phenomenon," says Dugan, who points popular channel on youtube out that we've seen some pretty nutty marketing stunts over the years, from CBS advertising their TV shows on eggs in 2006 to companies posting ads over the urinals in men's bathrooms, starting back in the early 1990s.
Balkhi advises that you should add your keywords in the first two sentences, but not try to game the system. Stuffing keywords in your description can get your channel penalized, just as stuffing keywords in content on a website can trigger a Penguin or Panda penalty.
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cool, i have an hour to kill so im jst going to answer this dumb ask meme that i saw on my dash under a cut, bc i definitely do not have enough followers to engage w stuff like this the normal way
Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora? spotify
is your room messy or clean? messy
what color are your eyes? brown
do you like your name? why? i’ve hated it for as long as i can remember. thinking it’s jst the combination of it being an unusual first name, being picked on for it a lot bc kids are mean, and having everyone around me insist that i’d love my name come adulthood bc it never ended up happening. i still want to change it legally but i have to figure out something i won’t tire of. “jackie” is working for now but idk abt committing to that one
what is your relationship status? disinterested
describe your personality in 3 words or less turbulent
what color hair do you have? dark brown
what kind of car do you drive? color? blue honda civic
where do you shop? forever 21, h&m, a few places online
how would you describe your style? trying too hard
favorite social media account i like kbnoswag on twitter lmao
what size bed do you have? queen
any siblings? jst col and my two step sisters
if you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why? probably anchorage bc it’s scenic, the housing/rental market is abt the same as it is here, but the wages tend to be higher
favorite snapchat filter? when they make special versions of the dog filter for different holidays... i love those
favorite makeup brand(s) nyx mainly
how many times a week do you shower? i do it every day but if im in a shitty place mentally, i wont on my days off
favorite tv show? bojack horseman
shoe size? 9
how tall are you? 5′7″
sandals or sneakers? sneakers
do you go to the gym? i work out but i dnt go to a gym bc i’ve always had exercise equipment at home and my apartment has a fitness center, so i cant justify paying for a membership
describe your dream date i dream abt other things
how much money do you have in your wallet at the moment? $70
what color socks are you wearing? blue
how many pillows do you sleep with? 4 bc i love only using 2 and then kicking the other ones off my bed somehow when im asleep
do you have a job? what do you do? yeah, i’ve been doing hair for 4 odd years now
how many friends do you have? a decent handful but i only consider myself very close w two of them
whats the worst thing you have ever done? a lot probably but nothing rly sticks out to me as the objective “worst”
whats your favorite candle scent? yankee candle makes one called “golden sands” and i like that one a lot
3 favorite boy names/3 favorite girl names for various rzns i’d rather not answer the baby names question. pass
favorite actor? i can’t think of one off the top of my head, but i like jim carrey a lot
favorite actress? amy adams!
who is your celebrity crush? i’m not invested in famous ppl like that, but if you asked me this when i was 12, i’d have said pete wentz lmfao. probably my only one ever
favorite movie? this is hard lol. arrival, interstellar, and gone girl come to mind, though
do you read a lot? whats your favorite book? i do. difficult to pick favorites bc i like more nonfiction stuff... i liked a brief history of time a lot
money or brains? brains. i have my own money
do you have a nickname? what is it? jackie is technically a nickname i guess. fati calls me “salvadore” and i hate it w a passion
how many times have you been to the hospital? a lot but i’ve only stayed there for an extended period 3 times
top 10 favorite songs stop they’re all special to me in different ways...
do you take any medications daily? i did for a while
what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc) oily
what is your biggest fear? nothing that hasn’t already happened lol
how many kids do you want? none
whats your go to hair style? i cut it into a bob periodically and let it grow out until it annoys me, rinse and repeat til i die
what type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc) average?
who is your role model? no one. all people are jst people
what was the last compliment you received? probably someone calling me smart or something. i hear it a lot but i dnt rly believe it
what was the last text you sent? “yes binch”
how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real? probably pretty young if i was ever lead to believe it period. i dnt remember ever having any faith in that
what is your dream car? i had my dream car and it was more of a hassle than anything. a good metaphor for life, probably
opinion on smoking? cigarettes? do whatever you want. weed? do whatever you want, but stop saying it cures cancer. meth/crack? maybe you should chill
do you go to college? that didn’t work out
what is your dream job? being able to sustain myself without one
would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs? suburbs definitely. lived in rural areas before. driving 30 minutes one way to the grocery store is not something i ever feel inclined to experience again.
do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels? depends on what they are
do you have freckles? yes
do you smile for pictures? only when my mom makes me
how many pictures do you have on your phone? 2377
have you ever peed in the woods? no
do you still watch cartoons? i mean bojack is a cartoon. but ones for children, no
do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonalds? stan wendy
Favorite dipping sauce? chick fil a sauce
what do you wear to bed? long old tshirt and this jacket i have from middle school typically lol. i have 3 actual pairs of pajamas though
have you ever won a spelling bee? i’ve never had an opportunity to even enroll in one. my schools never ran them
what are your hobbies? i read and write a lot, still trying to kill the rolling stone 500 albums list, i paint sometimes, jst general Bitch Desperate For Escapism things
can you draw? i used to a lot more than i do now but i’m still halfway decent at it
do you play an instrument? guitar & bass. i’m better at bass. i’m better at guitar hero but that dznt count
what was the last concert you saw? fall out boy i think? i’m having trouble remembering if that was before or after roger waters
tea or coffee? both but tea is a little easier to make so i drink more of it
Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts? bux. jesus christ
do you want to get married? not planning on it
what is your crush’s first and last initial? i’m too disillusioned to feel that way abt ppl rn
are you going to change your last name when you get married? definitely not
what color looks best on you? pastels
do you miss anyone right now? yeah but it dznt matter
do you sleep with your door open or closed? closed
do you believe in ghosts? absolutely
what is your biggest pet peeve? when customers make a scissor cutting motion w their hands when they’re describing their haircut to me. it’s sooooo weird and stupid and idg why so many people do it
last person you called` ian
favorite ice cream flavor? mint chocolate chip
regular oreos or golden oreos? regular
chocolate or rainbow sprinkles? i hate sprinkles bc they are pointless
what shirt are you wearing? a tank top
what is your phone background? my lock screen is a pic i took of the lacey street theater in fairbanks the first time i was there. my background is a pic i took in denali when i was there w ian
are you outgoing or shy? i want to socialize but i dnt know how. shy i guess?
do you like it when people play with your hair? no, honestly i find it rly unpleasant
do you like your neighbors? katie and alexis are the best drinking buddies anyone could ask for. isaac is great. everyone else i could take or leave
do you wash your face? at night? in the morning? yes and both
have you ever been high? yeah
have you ever been drunk? constantly
last thing you ate? 1/2 of a jimmy johns veggie club
favorite lyrics right now uhhhh idk i dnt get stuck on music like that
summer or winter? winter
day or night? night
dark, milk, or white chocolate? i dnt rly like chocolate
favorite month? october
what is your zodiac sign gemini
who was the last person you cried in front of? ian
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5 Tips To Get Outside With Your Kids in The Winter & Have Fun
Even though it’s pretty cold this time of year, there’s no reason why kids should be cooped up inside. Granted, the logistics of having the correct clothing and keeping them warm might cause a few issues, but, as long as they have several layers and a decent set of boots etc. You should be good to go.
Now, you may be wondering what ways you can get your kid outdoors this winter and with any luck this article will help!
1. Think About Winter Differently
The vast majority of adults don’t like the winter too much. Not only is it perceived to be harder to get around, the weather can sometimes be unpredictable and depending on the weather condition, treacherous.
All of that anxiety and stress often filters down to our kids, even if the weather conditions aren’t too bad. So, we need to think about winter differently so we can encourage our kids to get outside this winter.
Even though the way I described winter earlier is accurate. It is not unpredictable and treacherous all of the time. In fact, you can have winter days where the sun is shining bright and it is not too cold out.
For that reason, it is always a good idea to worry and be anxious at the right times and excited and adventurous when the weather isn’t that bad. For some reason, our emotions have lumped the winter days into one, where in reality there are a lot of good days when it is perfect to get out there, walk, hike, play etc.
2. Keep it Simple
A lot of people think that the process needs to be complicated, but, in reality, you just need to keep things simple. There really is no need to travel too far from your home. In fact, I would encourage you to stay close by just in case they need the toilet or you want to pop back for a little snack.
Fortunately or unfortunately, we haven’t had any snow this year, but building snowmen is the simplest form of play close to home. In fact, if you have a garden you don’t even need to leave your house.
Simply build a snowman in the back garden. Depending on how adventurous you guys are, you can always build snow forts or have a snowball fight if they have friends over.
You can also go sledding (make one out of spare cardboard you have at home). This will keep them entertained for hours.
Alternatively, if you need to clear pathways or snow/frost off vehicles, why not get your kids to help. Of course, this isn’t playing, but there’s no reason why you can’t get them involved and make it fun for them.
3. Try Something New
There are plenty of winter activities operating in your neighbourhood, village, town or city. Why not try something new and try cross-country skiing, hiking, ice-climbing or even ice-fishing. With the internet now at our fingertips, you are just a click away of finding some sort of winter activity locally.
One of our favourites is hiking. You don’t necessarily need to hike far, but ensure they are wrapped up warm, take a pack lunch and explore the great outdoors.
There must be so many places you haven’t taken them yet and places they haven’t seen? The great thing is, your kids will love it!
They like nothing better than being outside exploring. If you are lucky, you may even see some natural wildlife on your travels.
You could get them to take a picture of what they see and then look up that animal online. That way the hike was both fun and educational.
Depending on where you live, you could also try outdoor ice skating. There’s nothing better than spending the day slipping and sliding around together in true winter fun. Note: Get to these rinks quite early as they are generally only open for short periods of time and get busy very quickly (especially when school is off).
4. Make it Fun
We briefly touched on this before, but the idea is to make the outdoor activity as fun as possible. You could either have a race, or even a timed race to see who can reach a certain point the quickest.
Most kids will be so happy to have your undivided attention away from technology like TV’s and computer screens (so make the most of it).
You may or may not hate my next suggestion, but, as long as your kids have warm winter clothes on, why not let them have a roll around in the snow?
You don’t see this as often as we used to and I think it is the hassle of wiping the snow off and washing their clothes after their play session. However, if kids don’t have the worry of keeping their clothes sparkling clean they can have a ton of fun!
5. Explore Your Neighbourhood
We have mentioned hiking a few times in this article. However, one activity that often gets overlooked is simply going for a walk in your local neighbourhood together. You don’t necessarily need to take the same route each time.
Why not change the route and explore new different streets and pathways. Not only is this valuable time spent together out of the house. It is great for bonding and having a conversation in a safe space.
Oftentimes your kids will open up about problems they are having or need to get something off their chest. Use the walk as an excuse to find out things your kids weren’t motivated to say at home.
Take a walk through the neighborhood together. This is another way to keep it simple while venturing beyond your backyard. You can try new routes each time, looking for things you hadn't noticed before. Walking together is a great way to combine physical activity with family time, and studies show that kids are more likely to open up if they are engaged in another activity while talking.
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Best domain name registrars of 2019
Best domain name registrars of 2019
Every great website needs a snappy, memorable domain name. Coming up with something new is a serious challenge, but once inspiration strikes, you'll need to register that name with a domain name registrar before you can use it online. Registration isn't difficult, but first, you must choose from the hundreds of companies competing for your business, and there are several things for you to consider before signing the virtual dotted line. We’ve also rounded up the best overall web hosting services How to choose the perfect domain registrar Pricing structures can be complicated. A low headline figure could become expensive on renewal, for instance. Prices vary between domain extensions, too, so a registrar that offers great value for a .com domain might give you a poor deal on when it comes to .org. There may be extra costs for tasks like transferring your domain to another registrar, too. Read the small print before you sign up. Look for any bundled or optional extras. A Whois privacy service prevents your address, phone number and email address appearing as public contact details for the domain, something which could otherwise get you a significant amount of spam email and phone calls. We've seen this cost as much as $11.20 a year, but several registrars provide it for free. Many domain registrars offer hosting as an extra, but keep in mind that web hosting companies can also register domains. If you have an idea of which web host you'd like to use, check the details of its plans: you may be able to register a domain for free when you buy hosting, and that's often the cheapest option. Finally, take a look at the support a registrar offers. You may never need any help at all, but if anything critical crops up – maybe an issue which might cause a problem with renewal – it's important that your provider is on hand to ably assist. Balancing all these priorities can be tricky, so that's why we've created this list of top domain registrars to help point you in the right direction.
Web giant GoDaddy is the world's biggest domain registrar, currently managing more than 75 million domains for 17 million customers around the globe. The company is well-known for its low headline prices, and it's the same story here, with .uk and .co.uk domains available for $0.99 in year one. On the other hand .com and .org are less impressive (though still apparently cheap) starting at $12.17. Beware, though: these aren't the bargains they initially seem. The first catch is that GoDaddy's starting prices only apply if you pay for two years upfront, and the second year is significantly more expensive (.com rises to $18.17, .uk and .co.uk domains rise to $12, .org and .mobi are ridiculously high, $21.17 for .org and $26.17 for .mobi). The second problem is that there are no bundled extras, so adding something like Whois privacy – a valuable service often included for free with other providers – costs $8 a month for year one, and $10 on renewal. There's clearly much better value to be had elsewhere, but GoDaddy may still appeal to web beginners looking for a bundled hosting and domain registration deal. The company has an array of products covering every possible requirement, with telephone support if you need it, and buying your domain and hosting from the same provider will make life a little easier. Just keep in mind that other providers can also combine hosting and domain registration, and GoDaddy may not provide the best package for you. Check out our various hosting guides for possible alternatives. You can sign up for GoDaddy domain registration here
Hover is a popular domain name registrar owned by Tucows, which also operates eNom and the domain reselling platform OpenSRS. Hover's website is clear and straightforward. A domain pricing page allows for checking registration costs before you start, or you can use the search box to immediately locate your preferred TLD (top-level domain). By default the results page displays every domain you can register and their prices, giving you a lot to scroll through and read. But a handy sidebar allows filtering domains by categories including Personal, Businesses, Audio and Video, Food and Drink, and more. It's a neat touch which could help you spot an appealing domain that you otherwise might have missed. Prices are very reasonable, with .com domains costing $12.99 for year one, .co.uk priced at $10.99, .org costing $13.99 and .mobi reaching $15.99. Shop around and you'll find slightly lower prices elsewhere, but Hover generally provides good value. There's a welcome bonus in Whois Privacy, which comes free for as long as the domain is managed by Hover. The company keeps upselling to a minimum, even in the final shopping cart stage. You're simply offered three email-related extras: email forwarding at $5 a year, a 10GB email account for $20, or you can opt for a 1TB inbox, file sharing, a calendar and more, for an annual $29. If you have any questions, support is available via email and chat, although it's not 24/7. Working hours are 8am to 8pm (Eastern Time) Monday to Friday, and 12pm to 5pm at the weekend. You can sign up for Hover domain registration here
Most domain name registrars offer a simple identikit service with little to separate them from the competition, but Dynadot is an interesting exception which has some unusual advantages. This starts right at the beginning, with your initial search. You can use the website much like any other – type your preferred domain, press Enter, read the results – but you also get Bulk and IDN (Internationalized Domain Name) search tools, and advanced options allow defining which domain extensions to include in your searches, as well as setting those as defaults for all future searches. These searches can optionally return results from domain auctions, Dynadot's Marketplace (where other customers sell domains they no longer need) and other sources. There's also a Backorder option to try and grab a domain that isn't currently available, if it's not renewed. Prices are on the low side, with Dynadot offering both special deals on some extensions and good value at renewal. .com sites are $7.99 initially, $8.99 on renewal. If you’re after a .co.uk domain, that’ll set you back $6.95, with .org costing $10.99, and .mobi domains are $4.25 initially, $13.99 on renewal. That's just the start: Dynadot also piles on the free extras. A Website Builder allows you to build and host a simple one-page responsive website. There's free domain forwarding if you'd like to redirect visitors somewhere else. DNS support allows creating 50 subdomain records, 10 email addresses, and 5 each of MX and TXT records. There's even a Grace Deletion list which allows returning a domain if you change your mind. This requires a small fee and won't always be allowed (the details on how it works are here), but it's still a welcome extra you'll rarely find with other registrars. Dynadot's support wasn't always as impressive, with live chat being offline when we checked. But the website does have a publicly available forum, allowing anyone to browse common questions and see how happy (or otherwise) Dynadot's customers might be. You can sign up for Dynadot domain registration here
Shopping around for a domain registrar can involve a lot of hassle as you research companies you've never heard of, try to separate genuine bargains from marketing tricks, and browse the small print looking for hidden catches. With potential savings only amounting to a few pounds or dollars a year, at best, you might prefer to simply sign up with a big-name provider that you know will give you a reasonable service, even if it does cost a fraction more. Enter Google Domains, Google's lightweight domain registration arm, a straightforward provider that puts speed and simplicity at the top of its priority list. Google Domains doesn't confuse you with endless sales, or 'special' deals that turn out to be not so special after all. Upselling is kept to a minimum. Instead, it's all about making the purchase process as easy as any other online shopping site: search, click, and check out. The difference is obvious from the moment you reach the site. There are no animated ads at the top of the page, no 'Sale!' banners, no low headline prices: just a search box where you enter a single domain. The results page is equally straightforward, with prices listed for nine common top-level domains, and an All Endings tab listing every option in alphabetical order (domain.academy, domain.bargains, domain.camera). One potential problem is that Google Domains doesn't support all the domain extensions you'll get elsewhere, and this includes some quite common examples (.mobi, .tv). If you think you might ever want to buy something beyond the most popular extensions, it’s a good idea to check that your likely choices are available before you buy. Prices are standardized to whole numbers, so for example .com, .co.uk and .org domains are all priced at $12. That's a little above average overall, but better than some, especially as Google Domains throws in free Whois privacy for as long as you're registered. That's a valuable extra which could cost $2.80 to $11.20 a year elsewhere. If you do have any questions, a Help link displays articles on common problems. If that's not enough, the Contact Us page enables talking to a support agent by email, live chat or telephone (Google calls you), the highest level of domain registrar support we've seen anywhere. You can sign up for Google Domains domain registration here
Founded in 2000, Namecheap is a popular domain name registrar and web host which now manages more than five million domains. Namecheap's excellent website allows searching for individual domains, or in batches of up to 50. If the domain is taken, you can view the Whois record or offer to buy the domain (via DomainAgents) from the current user. If the domain is available, results are displayed across four tabs: Popular, New, Discounted and International. This is a neat approach which makes it easier to browse the list and find what you need. Prices are generally very good at $8.88 (£6.8) for .com domains - $12.98 on renewal, $7.58(£5.8) for .co.uk - $9.58 on renewal, $12.98 (£10) for .org - $14.98 on renewal, and $16.88 (£13) for .mobi (at the moment, you can get .mobi for $2.88 for the first year). There are some special deals available, and Namecheap has an Agent 88 set of domains which are almost always available at $0.48 (£0.35) for the first year (these usually include the following: .site .website .space .pw .press .host .tech .online and .fun – but there may be others as well). That would be good value all on its own, but Namecheap doesn’t stop there: you get WhoisGuard domain privacy thrown in for free. Namecheap's billing is straightforward and honest, with current and renewal prices clearly described in your Namecheap shopping cart, and Auto-Renew turned off. But if there's something you don't understand, helpful FAQ pages and live chat are just a click or two away. You can sign up for Namecheap domain registration here Check out the best WordPress website hosting services Read the full article
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Reality High
- One Shot -
Summary: The clique six feature on a reality television series that follows them around school. Exciting at first but Riley quickly realises that reality TV might not always be real.
Word Count: 6141 (Haven't written a one shot in a while so here’s a long one!)
♢ ♢ ♢ ♢
“Riley, hurry!” Maya yells from the comfort of her friends sofa, “It’s starting!” “I’m coming!” Riley shouts back from the kitchen. The brunette bolts over with two cans of soda in hand.
The two best friends watch the season finale of their favourite reality tv show, ‘Reality High’. Each season has the same layout; it follows a number of students from the beginning of the year to the end of the year but the only difference being, when a new season begins the show would follow a new set of students in a new school and a new city. In it’s third season - the one the girls sit and watch now - it’s set somewhere in LA.
The two soon to be juniors sit with their eyes glued to the screen hanging off every bit of drama as it concludes their favourite season to date. When the show wraps up the girls are on the brink of tears watching their favourite of the students - A girl name Miranda - graduating.
After the end credits roll, Riley and Maya are about to enter a loud discussion about their thoughts on the finale when a clip pops up advertising the entry period for season four.
“Did that just say Abigail Adams High?” Riley’s mouth is agape as she stares at the television in disbelief.
“No way!” Maya springs up from the sofa in excitement, “Season four is being filmed at out high school?”
Riley squeals, “Maybe we’ll know the kids on the show!”
“Maybe we’ll be the kids on the show!” Maya jokes but secretly wishes for it to be true.
It’s the following day that the principal formally addresses the excitement buzzing through the school. He outlines how the audition process will take place. On the last day of the school year - as an incentive to show up - the producers will be filming audition tapes for those who wish to participate where they’ll take the summer to filter through applicants and choose the winners.
Ever since the news broke it was all anyone was talking about. The majority of students were all dying for a place on the show.
“So is anyone going to sign up to audition?” It’s Riley who poses the question that afternoon in the bakery.
“Why bother?” Zay laughs, “They only ever feature seniors.”
“Not true,” Maya chimes in, “In season two they had two students from each year level.”
“Why would you want to be on it anyway?” Lucas speaks up, “It’s all just manufactured television.”
Farkle lets out a snort in agreement and Smackle points out she’s too smart for the show. Riley rebuts with the fact that they all watch the show, wether they were too smart for it or not.
By the looks of it Riley and Maya were going to be the only ones in their friend circle to sign up. That was until Riley convinced Lucas it could be fun and with Lucas on board it didn’t take much convincing for Zay to join the party. It seemed that only the two geniuses were opting out of auditioning.
It’s two days before the auditions when Riley’s Uncle Josh comes barrelling through their apartment door with some exciting news of his own. After two years at NYU Josh got accepted into his dream school, the New York Film Academy in which he transferred his junior year. It’s at this school that he was given the opportunity to sign up for a contest; the prize being an assisting position to an executive producer of a national television series. He won the contest and as it turned out the television series he would be affiliated with was Reality High.
The end of the week arrives quickly and Riley’s nerves bubbled inside her the closer she got to auditioning but she manages to get through it without passing out or embarrassing herself completely.
The hype surrounding the upcoming season of Reality High dies down a few weeks into everyones summer vacation. That was until Riley received the phone call. It was the producer of the show wishing to see Riley for the second round of the auditioning process. So excited over the phone call Riley immediately rings her best friend to share the good news but before she could get a word in Maya was screaming down the phone about her own phone call with the producer.
It was later revealed that all of her friends got the same call. Which came as a surprise to Riley, not that she didn’t believe they were worthy of spots on the show but because she didn’t think two of them even auditioned. It’s during the second round of the audition process that they learn the producers new angle for season four was to follow a group of friends rather than random students.
That was the beginning for them. Things moved quickly after that second round. Each of the six friends were put under contract for the show and went into various meetings. About a two weeks before school is due to start camera crews came to each of the high schoolers apartments to film their ‘get to know me’ packages.
The way the show worked was pretty simple, the camera crew would follow each of the chosen students around school, a couple hours after school and selected times on the weekend. To make the show as ‘authentic’ as possible there is only a two week lag between episodes aired and real time.
(I know this is impractical for how TV actually works but lets pretend it’s real. I need the immediate response to how people react to the show to see how Riley’s reacts to their reactions etc.)
The first day of the new school year approaches quickly and everyone had heard the news of the six juniors scoring positions on the show.
Riley was half expecting the extra attention from her peers but to the extent she received she wasn’t prepared. Riley likes everyone but not everyone likes Riley and she knew that but come first day of school it seems as though everyone wanted to be her best friend.
At first the cameras were hard to get used to. The producer had to keep reminding the teens to try and avoid looking directly at it when they were going about their business. After a few days it normalised for them.
The first week acts as an introduction episode. The six friends gather in the Matthews living room to watch it air. It opens with a clip of their school. The halls are deserted so Riley figures this must have been filmed prior to school commencing that year. It segways into each of the students get to know me packages. Each clip pauses on a cute or quirky picture of each high schooler with their name and a byline like ‘The Jokester’ etc. None of which were offensive or bad but Riley would later learn that was the producers branding each of them.
Once the episode wraps up the teens are left chattering excitedly amongst themselves and it’s Maya whom first points out that her social media was blowing up. Everyone else checks their phones and find the same thing happening to them.
As the first few weeks pass things are definitely not normal for the teens but they were all certainly loving the attention the show brought them. Each of them felt special and were overall pleased with how the episodes were turning out. That and the small sum of money they’re paid for participating was nothing to complain about.
The producers were loving every bit of it as well. The whole ‘history lesson applied to each of their lives’ bit was something they couldn’t have written better themselves. As it’s their job to monitor ratings etc. the producers are very in the know when it comes to how their viewers are receiving each episode. They’re constantly scouring hashtags about the show on social media. Gathering intel on how to better the show etc. Overall the response to the new angle was positive. The viewers seemed to love the mismatched group of friends.
It’s after six episodes, when they’re eight weeks into filming that Riley steps back from the hype and looks at how the show is affecting her friends. Each of them seemed more confident which wasn’t a bad thing by any means but Riley had an off feeling brewing inside her. A feeling she chooses to keep to herself for the time being.
Another few weeks pass and viewers are loving Riley’s goofiness and the way she obsesses over little things. They love Lucas because of his loyal leader nature - that and he is f i n e - Zay never failed to have the viewers in fits of laughter with his witty comebacks, The geniuses seemed to divide the audience, half of them didn’t understand their quirky behaviour and saw their intellect as braggy and pretentious but the other half, maybe more than half loved their dry honesty when it came to their friends. Maya was probably the crowd favourite, her pretty girl look was something that captured the audience and her ‘I don’t care’ attitude won them over completely.
As for Riley’s observations of her friends she obviously notices how being on the show is affecting them in social situations. Random people would recognise them wherever they went which was exciting at first but then it started to become a little bit of a hassle. When the cameras were around they had people to make sure filming wasn’t interrupted by the casual viewer but when the cameras weren't there they were free gain. Every study session or movie date was interrupted. Riley didn’t hold it against anyone, if anything she was extremely flattered that people wanted to meet her but it still weighed on her a little. More than it did anyone else's. Riley would never say it aloud but she had a feeling her friends wanted to be spotted. She’d notices them posting more pictures and posts about where they were which she knew was encouraged by the producers to create hype around them but again that off feeling inside her stirs.
It’s soon after this that things start to blow up for Riley and not in the good way. For the most part the filming of the show felt natural for Riley. Yes, they’d give certain queues for the six friends and suggestive topics to discuss etc. but it didn’t feel too fake for Riley. That’s why Riley misinterpreted the genuine nature of the tenth episode aired.
The show had been on a two week hiatus over Thanksgiving. Snippets were still filmed and added into the following weeks episode, but for the most part they had a break from daily camera life. Even these little snippets they filmed were optional to take part in, they weren't obligated in the contract to film over school breaks. Riley took this opportunity to recoup her thoughts and rest. Something about the constant attention and how aware she was that everyone was watching her exhausted Riley. So the brunette takes her week off school and opts out of any filming.
After Riley returned to school feeling refreshed, some of the original excitement the show brought her creeps back in when they begin filming again. At the end of this week that the clique six gather to watch the new episode like they had every week. It’s only two minutes in that the mood amongst the group changes completely.
The episode opened with some fluff piece about friends, family and thanksgiving. One that they subtly worked in the absence of Riley as the others had all opted to film. But it wasn’t just a simple “Riley is away for thanksgiving” explanation. No, it had been manipulated to look like Riley was avoiding her friends during the break or it at least implied that was the nature of her absence.
The six friends watching remain quiet, partly because they were shocked. As the episode unfolds more it seems the manipulation didn’t end there. It looked as though Riley was still being distant from her friends even after returning to school. This is all achieved with cheap editing tricks and they insinuated that the reasoning behind this had to do with relationship trouble. To make it worse they implied there was a triangle forming between Riley, Maya and Lucas. A simple Ha Hurr between friends was showed in a way that looked like Riley reacted sadly to it.
The episode wraps up and the entire room is tense. Isadora, Farkle and Zay quickly make excuses to bail and Riley is left quietly shocked on the sofa.
“Riley, that obviously wasn’t what it looked like,” Maya says quickly.
“I know.” Riley gives a slight nod.
“I have no idea why they’d try to make out like Maya and I like each other...” Lucas frowns.
“It’s okay,” Riley says softly.
“No it’s not,” Maya frowns too. “You’re upset.”
“It’s fine.” Riley says more firmly.
It took a bit of persisting but Riley manages to get her boyfriend and best friend to leave without discussing it in-depth.
Riley retreats to her room and takes her laptop to bed with her. Every single thing inside her said not to do it but curiosity won out in the end as she clicks on the hashtag surrounding their show. Riley spends an hour scrolling through countless comments about her and her relationship with Lucas or more so her ‘triangle’ with the addition of Maya. It quite literally devastated Riley to read everyone favouring Maya and Lucas’ relationship over her own. It’s after she feels herself being unable to hold back tears anymore that she closes her computer.
When they return to school on Monday Riley feels all eyes on her but this was different to people being interested in her position on the show. Riley knew these glances came out of curiosity regarding her apparent ‘triangle’. Lucas and Maya were undoubtedly awkward around each other and they both insisted on making things right with Riley but she continues to assure them that she’s alright and she knows there is nothing going on between them. Still her heart is weighed down by the negativity being sent in on her social media.
It’s when the episode revolving around that week airs that Riley finally cracks. Maya and Lucas’ awkward behaviour around one another was portrayed as suspicious and Riley’s wandering mind about the whole thing provided perfect material for them to edit as a broken heart. Riley gets up and leaves mid episode. Both Lucas and Maya chase after her.
By the time they get upstairs to Riley’s room she’s already crying in the bay window. Lucas and Maya trip over each others words as they try and spit out apologies and explanations to her. Both stressing how they’re not intreseted in one another romantically.
“Riley, you have to know that’s not real.” Lucas holds her gaze.
“Of course I do but does that make it hurt any less to see it portrayed that way?” Riley wipes at her damp cheeks.
“I’m so sorry,” Maya tears up seeing her friend so upset, “We can go talk to Mick [the executive producer] tomorrow and sort out this mess.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Riley chokes on her tears, “Everyone already sees it a certain way. Have you read what they’re posting online lately?”
“No, I try not to check the tags, people can post some nasty things...” Lucas explains.
“Yeah well I did,” Riley says, “And they’re starting a Team Riley or Team Maya hashtag war.”
“What?” Maya frowns.
“Yeah and you’re winning,” Riley snaps at her best friend.
“What?” Maya asks more shocked than before.
“I just want to be left alone,” Riley stands up from the bay window and moves over to her bed, “Can you please leave?”
“Riley-” Lucas starts but Riley cuts him off.
“Please?” Riley asks desperately. The two other teens give in and leave her alone.
Once school commences again on Monday - after two days of silence from Riley - they all return to school. Both Lucas and Maya spring on their mutual interest before the camera crew arrive at school.
“We’ve contacted Mick and he’s set up a meeting for us before homeroom,” Maya explains quickly.
“I promise we’re going to sort this all out, Riley,” Lucas gives her a small smile.
“Okay.” Riley wears a weak and unconvincing smile as the three of them make their way to the auditorium where Mick has a temporary office set up for the duration of the filming. He doesn’t spend everyday there, as he has a lot to deal with but he does have a very hands on approach when it comes to this show - hence the allocated spot for him that’s close to all the action.
It takes only a matter of minutes for Mick to brainwash both Lucas and Maya from angry to compliant. They open with obvious distaste to the way they were being ported and Mick spins the situation to a positive.
“Approaching thanksgiving we were coming to the part of the show where viewers start to cut in and out of watching. It’s the time of any season where we have to step things up a notch.” Mick explains, “That’s where we came up with the triangle idea. Nothing picks up ratings like two best friends fighting over the same boy.”
“But we’re not fighting over the same boy.” Maya says firmly.
“Maybe not but we’ve been picking up on a buzz surrounding you and Lucas, so it’s our job to explore that further.”
“Why?” Lucas asks, “Riley’s my girlfriend.”
“And no one is saying that has to change,” Mick sits back in his seat with arms folded against his chest. “But you can’t deny chemistry.”
Riley sinks into her seat. This was like the cutest couple yearbook revelation only on a nation wide scale.
“So you want us to play the part?” Maya is confused.
“Exactly,” Mick leans forward. “Throw in a few weeks worth of confusion between the three of you and we’ll work the whole ‘who’s it going to be?’ angle. Maybe take a poll and make the viewers think they have a say in who Lucas chooses and then we can circle back to Riley and Lucas. These last few weeks have been the highest rated episodes of any season to date. This kind of exposure is amazing for kids your age. Each of you is almost guaranteed college scholarship offers after this.”
“Really?” Maya fails to hide a smile.
“Yes.” Mick nods.
“So you want us to actually pretend to be in a triangle?” Riley speaks up for the first time since sitting down.
“Exactly,” Mick grins, “It’s better that you’re all aware and on board with the plan. That way it eliminates any real tension between you.”
“So Lucas and I wouldn’t actually have to date?” Maya questions.
“Maya?” Riley asks in shock that she was considering it.
“What?” Maya asks defensively. “Imagine if an art school is willing to give me a scholarship..”
“Why don’t I give you three kids sometime to talk this over and we can meet up again after school to talk about our next move.” Mick rises from his seat and leaves the three alone.
“We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” Lucas says softly but Riley was already too hurt.
“Don’t you get it?” Riley snaps, “It doesn’t matter if we agree or not they’re going to manipulate the show any way they want!”
“Doesn’t that make it easier to agree to faking it then?” Maya asks. “Besides, he said that it would only be for a few episodes and then they’d go for the fairytale ending for you and Lucas.”
“I already lived through months of a real triangle, now you’re asking me to do it again for the world to see?” Riley asks.
“It’s just fake Riley,” Lucas says softly.
“Not to me it isn’t.” Riley is in a state of disbelief that they were even entertaining the idea of being compliant.
“This could be huge for us, Riles..” Maya gives her a small smile.
“I wish I never applied for this stupid show,” Riley is on the verge of tears as she storms out of the room.
Riley hides away in the bathroom as she saw the cameras preparing to begin filming. It’s inside one of the stalls that Riley calls her mother. Over the weekend after Riley sent away Maya and Lucas she talked - or more accurately, cried - things over with her mom. Topanga was immediately upset on her daughters behalf but Riley was quick to convince her mom to let her handle things before she gets her lawyer mom involved. Hence why Riley turned up to the meeting with Mick alone. It’s after this meeting that Riley decides she wants out and Topanga is there within the hour.
During first period the six reality television stars are called for a non filmed meeting with Mick. Topanga is already standing by with folded arms and a mean look on her face. Josh was also present, as Mick’s assistant and he’d heard from him about the proposal he offered the teens and was just as disgusted as Riley and Topanga.
Everyone but Riley was confused about the nature of the meeting. She knew why they were there, she initiated it but the other teens weren’t expecting to be called in. Even Lucas and Maya thought they weren't reconvening until that afternoon.
Topanga is the first to address everyone, “We’re here because Riley wants off the show.”
Surprise stirs amongst the teens. Mick is looking smug behind his desk. Like he knows how this is all going to play out already.
“Now Riley is legally bound to the show by contract,” Topanga explains, “The only way out of it is if all of you refuse to participate.”
“What?” Zay says what everyone was thinking.
Riley awkwardly sits in her seat wishing the ground would swallow her whole.
“Can’t Riley be released from her contract if we all agree to continue filming?” Maya thinks she’s offering up a solution that worked for everyone. Since they all enjoyed the hype the show brought them.
“Maya!” Topanga scowls out of shock.
“Mrs. Matthews if Riley doesn’t want to be on the show why should we all have to give it up?” Farkle asks sheepishly.
“If Riley’s not on the show anymore that means that she won't be able to be in any of your classes, nor will she be able to take part in any of your after school hang outs.” Topanga knew she was dealing with teenagers but still she couldn’t hide her disgust in them.
Riley again reaches her breaking point due to the lack of support from her so called friends and runs out of the room.
“I expected more from all of you,” Topanga evens out her glare around the room, “And you,” she turns to Mick with a look that sent shivers down the grown mans spine, “I will be coming after your show and then you personally for exploiting my daughter like this.”
Topanga leaves in search of Riley and the teens are left with the shows producer and Josh hovering behind with a similar look of shock and disgust at how they were acting.
“Maybe we can talk to Riley and convince her to be on the show,” Maya speaks on behalf of everyone. “Is there anyway we can drop the triangle thing? I think she’d be okay if that wasn’t featured.”
“If she doesn’t want to be on the show don’t make her!” Josh snaps.
“We can do the show without her,” Farkle agrees with Josh. He didn’t want to exploit Riley but he also didn’t want to give up the show.
“She’s the only reason you’re on the show,” Mike half scoffs.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Maya pricks up a brow.
“I need a smoke,” Mick sighs heavily and exits the room.
“Josh, what did he mean that she’s the only reason we’re on the show?” Maya asks him.
“Maya your whole standoffish interview wasn’t enticing by any means, Lucas your Mr. Perfect answers were also boring and Zay you came across as a try hard.” Josh is blunt with his response. “Farkle, Smackle you two didn’t even audition, how do you suppose you got a spot on the show?”
“I just figured with the whole friend group angle they decided to include us...” Farkle shrugs.
“I stood there and watched them put a cross next to each of your names after your audition tapes.” Josh explains, “But then Riley sat down and everything changed.”
“What do you mean?” Lucas asks, feeling terrible for everything that has transpired in the last few weeks. He wasn’t exactly pushing to stay on the show but his silence in the matter was just as bad.
Josh uses the laptop on Mick’s desk and pulls up a file. He clicks play on the file labeled ‘Riley Matthews audition tape’ he turns the screen to the other teens, hits play and leaves the room.
“Next up we have Riley Matthews.” A voice from behind the camera calls.
Riley walks nervously up to the stool and takes a seat. A soft giggle escapes her as the chair swivels with her when she tries to readjust her position.
“So, Miss Riley Matthews can you tell us why you’d be a good participant to watch on Reality High?” The producer asks from behind the camera, “What makes you special?”
Riley takes a few seconds to answer. You can see her brain ticking as she smiles softly to herself.
“To be perfectly honest with you I don’t know why I should be on your show.” Riley answers, “I don’t know what makes me special or more important than anyone else auditioning…I just know that my friends and I love your show.” Riley is nervous and the producers pick up on it.
“You seem nervous,” Mick highlights from behind the camera.
“I’ve never been really good at talking about myself..” Riley states honestly.
“Why don’t you tell me about your friends, the ones you watch the show with?” Mick asks in an attempt to get Riley to loosen up.
Instantly Riley’s face lights up. She sits up straighter in her chair and looks eager to answer. Still she takes a moment to ponder the perfect thing to say.
“You know the breakfast club?” Riley asks with a smile. “We’re kinda like that but without the whole detention aspect..” Riley chuckles. “Each of us are so different but in a unique way we’re exactly right for each other.”
With his interest peaked Mick asks Riley to elaborate.
“There’s Isadora and Farkle, they’re quite similar to one another with their genius minds and despite science - the thing they believe most in - saying they’re wrong for each other they still found love. It’s quite funny actually,” Riley gets lost in her ramble but Mick doesn’t stop her. “Both Farkle and Issy went through a great deal of growth on the outside as well as the inside and it seems that people focus mostly on the physical differences rather than the emotional.. I guess it’s not funny actually... To me I’ll alway admire how they embraced the feelings that scared them most. They’re the embodiment of the statement that looks don’t define who you are. Then there’s Zay, he was the latest addition to our group and he admitted to feeling like an outsider at first but we were never really complete until he showed up. He’s hilarious and is known to stir the pot a little but when it comes down to it he has all of our best interests at heart. Then there’s Maya, she’s my sister - well not literally - but DNA can’t tell me otherwise. She’s fierce and strong and she hopes, even when it scares her, she hopes. She may be small but she has the heart the size of… Something really big,” Riley giggles. “Ive always wanted to be more like her.” “Then there’s Lucas,” Riley takes a deep breath, this was the big one. “He’s my boyfriend but that’s not really relevant because we were friends first. He’s overcome a lot in his life and he prides himself in being respectful and there’s not a thing that could stand in his way if he thinks one of us need protecting... He wants to be a veterinarian,” Riley giggles softly, “I guess the protection thing is just his nature…” At this point Riley had completely forgotten she was being filmed. She lost herself in talk of her friends just like she had with Evan at the ski lodge. Riley could go on and on forever when it came to her friends. “And there may of been a time in our relationship when I was scared of losing him but now I know that no matter what the future holds he’s always someone I want in my life. I always want to talk to him… So he may be my boyfriend but he’s kinda my best friend too.” Riley wears a shy smile before letting out a nervous giggle, “But you can’t let Maya know I said that because we have this ‘you and me against the world’ thing going on.” Riley pauses for a moment. “And you know at the end of the movie how Judd Nelson throws his fist into the air victoriously? I know it’s because he got the girl or whatever but that’s kinda how I feel everyday because of my friends.” Riley looks back at the producer with a sheepish smile. The kind she gets after realising she’s gone off on a ramble. “So to circle back to your original question, ‘What makes me special?’ Well, the answer is, them.”
“Thank you, Riley, I think we’ve seen enough.” Mick steps into view to give Riley a hand shake and the tape cuts out just after Riley skips away.
“Wow.” Maya says and each of the teens wear guilty expressions.
“Well I feel like scum..” Zay says light-heartedly but he and everyone else felt even worse than scum.
Lucas storms out of the room without another word.
Topanga took Riley home after the meeting and she assured Riley she would sort this out as quickly as possible. It was not long after she arrived back at the apartment that Riley received a text from Maya saying they were all going to stop the show and they’d fix everything. A little too late in Riley’s eyes as she was already so upset over the whole situation. Part of her did feel guilty for asking them to give up the show, she saw how much they were enjoying everything it brought them but at the same time she didn’t like where things were going. They were only three months in imagine what the rest of the year would bring them with life in the spotlight? Sadly, Riley tosses her phone to the side without replying.
After a quick nap, Riley takes hot bath and dresses in some comfy pyjamas. Riley goes downstairs to watch some television in the lounge and is surprised to see her friends and Uncle Josh all sitting down waiting for her. At this point Riley is feeling cornered and has no choice but to sit down and hear everyone spit apologies at her. All of which sounded sincere but Riley’s heart still ached at the situation.
They plead with Riley to stay put for a few more moments and she obliges. Maya turns on the television and Riley’s unsure what was going on but they ask her to just watch. Riley sits there as her best friend presses play on something.
The screen opens with Maya, Lucas, Farkle, Isadora and Zay all standing together.
“ ‘Sorry we’re such jerks’ take one.” Josh can be heard from behind the camera.
“Do we really have to call it that?” Maya frowns.
“Yes.” Josh says, “Are you denying that you were a jerk?”
“No.” Maya deflates.
“Then, action!” Josh says.
The five friends look awkwardly amongst themselves wondering who was going to start. Zay chuckles half heartily, “We’ve had cameras following us around for months, so why is this so hard?”
“Because this actually means something.” Lucas sighs out of disappointment in himself. “Riley, what makes you special is your faith in the universe and the limitless amount of belief you have in people.”
“Riley, I believe in you more than I do science.” Farkle states and Smackle looks lovingly up at him and nods in agreeance. “Riley, you’re special because you’ve helped us both navigate through those emotions that scared us most.”
Smackle takes a turn. “You’re special because you helped me accept a part of myself that I wasn’t willing to acknowledge.”
“You’re special because YOU have everyone’s best interest at heart.” Zay stresses. “I only ever tried to do the same.”
“You’re special because you would have given up the show - or anything for that matter - if we asked, without hesitation.” Maya speaks up. “You’re special because there’s not a thing in this world that you wouldn’t share with me. Family, friends, boys... Things I wanted because I always wanted to be more like you.” Maya wears a weak smile. “What makes you special is that you’re going to forgive us, even though we don’t deserve it..”
“Because you’re Riley.” Farkle adds.
“And Riley’s special.” Lucas delivers the last line before raising a fist in the air and the other friends all do the same.
“And cut..” Josh says softly before the video stops.
“I take it you saw my audition tape?” Riley lets out a quiet laugh as she wipes at her damp cheeks.
“Riles, you’re so much more than us.” Maya reaches for her best friends hand.
“We’re so sorry for getting caught up in the hollywood lifestyle.” Farkle says.
“You make us better.” Lucas says with a small smile.
“Are we forgiven?” Zay asks. “Because I’m willing to grovel.”
“You’re forgiven.” Riley laughs quietly. “But what about the show?”
“We are done with it.” Maya states as a matter of fact.
“Even if we all refuse to film, surely there are more legal repercussions than them just allowing us to break the contract?” Riley knits her brows together.
“I wouldn’t worry about that.” Josh wears a proud smirk as he pulls out his phone. “After the meeting I went to look for Mick so I could quit and I found him outside…”
Riley gives him a puzzled look so without further explanation Josh plays a video he recorded on his phone. It’s of Mick taking that smoke break he mentioned he needed but he’s also on the phone to someone where he quite horribly laughs at Riley’s expense and in detail talks about the way he manipulated the love triangle etc. At first Riley was confused as to why Josh would show her this, his nasty words didn’t exactly make Riley feel better about the situation but then Josh goes on to explain how the video may or may not of been anonymously sent into a few dozen entertainment news places.
As a result of Josh doing this the video went viral as a show beloved by many was exposed for it’s cruel treating of the shows participants. Reality High was immediately pulled off the air by the network and the six teens - Riley more specifically - were issued with an apology from the head of the network.
The show was put to rest but the buzz around the teens was the craziest it’s ever been. Everyone rallied behind Riley after they heard the horrible things said by her shows producer. Suddenly her relationship with Lucas was the most adorable thing in the world but Riley chose to tune out what she could and take back ownership of her own life again.
After the apology video Lucas apologised again to Riley in private and sweetly expresses how he never wanted to fake date or real date anyone but her. Riley accepts his apology and understands he just got caught up in things. Lucas being Lucas made a point to continuously shower Riley with gestures that prove his sincerity. It was a form of smothering but Riley didn’t let it annoy her because she knew Lucas was just trying to show her he cared.
Eventually things die down and return to normal for the six friends. Riley harbours no pain or resentment towards her friends or the show because if one good thing did come out of it was the fact that Riley learnt something very important; sure her friends made her special but she made them special too.
End Notes: Yo this was long. Sorry if theres heaps of errors, editing long one shots like this is a complete nightmare!!!
A prompt sent to me SO LONG AGO!! It took me ages to get to.. I actually started it way back in the day! But heres the anon credit: (I did change a few things like leave out the R x F manipulation etc. But I hope this suffices okay!
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