#11 year old em would lose their shit

[be-bisexual-eat-hot-chip-and-lie]

the chair scene really has it all

percy knowing and explaining a myth to annabeth

seaweed brain

annabeth’s facial expressions the whole scene, leah acted her heart out. she went through all 5 stages of grief and took me with her

walker’s voice crack in “i just dont see it”

riptide !

she immediately goes “im not leaving the underworld without your mom”

“you think you have to ask”

percy’s reassurance the Whole Time, ricky when i catch you ricky

lassie i love you (timothy omundson you’re amazing)

“he isn’t that way”

“i dont want to be that way anymore. i wont be like all of you”

[the-bar-sinister]

Run Away With Me (4279 words) by thesavagesabretooth Summary: Phoenix gets the final push he needs to come ask Maya to come back with him. Maya gets the final push she needs to finally follow her heart, instead of her grim duty.

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October 2, 2028– 11:15 am

Phoenix had been going to visit Maya in Kurain every week since she'd returned to the states in June. Sometimes– often– she wouldn't have much more time than to say hello, and maybe have a cup of coffee, but he still made the hours-long bus ride there just the same, without fail. It didn't matter how much time she had for him. It just mattered that she was there.

He straightened his tie as he arrived at the small bus stop overshadowed by the great stone standing outside the main family’s manor. It hadn’t changed in years– honestly, it was likely it hadn’t even changed in decades from the old wood and the archaic design. 

Phoenix would have believed that the bus stop was exactly the same in Maya's mother's and grandmother's time as it was that very day. In fact, he was sure that was the case for most of the village.

He glanced around to see if Maya was there to meet him that day, or if he'd have to go and find her. 

The bushes by the bus stop rustled…once…twice…and out leapt a figure clad in purple and white to tackle him in a hug. “NIIIIIiiiiiick!” 

Nick yelped in surprise, but caught her in his arms and carried the energy of her tackle into a whirl with the both of them, grinning. "Maya! You took another few years off my life!"

Maya squeezed him tightly, grinning from ear to ear under her dark fringe of hair. 

“Shit, I’ll have to be careful. You’re getting on in years. You need ‘em, old man.” 

"Ouch, right in the pide," he chuckled with her, letting her down to the ground as he continued to hug her. "You're in good spirits today. I'm glad to see it."

“Don’t tell anyone, I’ll lose their respect as Village Elder.” Maya chuckled as she settled back on her feet. She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m just …ya know…”“I missed you, and believe it or not…I actually have a little free time today.” 

Phoenix felt himself light up when she said so, and it showed on his face. "You do? That's fantastic."

Maya grinned and poked his cheek. 

“Yep. I’ve got some of the old farts in the sub family handling a couple meetings I don’t gotta attend, so…” She looked over her shoulders “Until someone comes to rain on my parade, we’re golden. You want some tea?”

"I'd love some," he said, slipping one arm around her shoulder. "Unless you have enough time to run back to LA with me for a burger."

He didn't really dare to hope that she could, but he was always going to suggest it.

Maya’s smile faltered for the first time since she’d seen him.

“Ugh… I wish…I haven’t had meat in like, weeks, WEEKS Nick. I’m dyin’ for a good burger but…I mean.” She rubbed her arm “...the people need me , and I could get called back into action any second. You know? I got time, but I dunno if I have ‘hours on the bus both ways’ time.” 

He squeezed her close to him and shook his head. "I get it. Don't worry. I brought snacks, anyway. I know how you are. Let's have that tea and I can enjoy watching you tear into them."

Maya laughed into her hand as she backed away and offered her hand with a grin .“You know what I like, Nick.”

It was crazy how much she’d started to look like Mia over the years. She’d grown, considerably, to the point it was almost hard to tell when she channeled her older sister anymore on the rare occasions she tried.

It was very clear in the warm mountain sunlight, at least, with the way the robes fell on her body. 

There was an unnerving element to it, sometimes, but mostly, Phoenix just found it amazing how much time had passed between them, and how much it had marked them both.

It wasn't as if he was the same man he'd been when they met, either. He'd grown quite far apart from that man in fact, over the years, and thought for a while that he'd never see him in the mirror again. That was changing now, though, and he was still working on ways to change it even more.

"Some big news this week," he said, catching her up with the goings on at the Wright Agency as he always did, as they made their way to her place.

“Ooooh, big news huh? Did Charlie sprout legs and start pullin’ his weight?” She led him under the arch to the family garden and towards the side door. 

"I wish!" he laughed, stepping through the garden with her. "No, it's weirder than that. Trucy went to Khura'in with Klavier."”

“Wuh wuh WHAT???” Maya jolted physically, and all the veneer of ‘Master Fey’ mystique vanished in an instant at her goofy and dramatic gasp. “Trucy went to Khura’in??? With Klavier Frickin’ Gavin??? To Khura’in?????” 

He nodded, holding her arm to make sure she didn't trip. "Yeah. They're going to bring Apollo back to the states, apparently. I hope they're going to try to convince him, but they were at least joking about tying him up and smuggling him in a suitcase."

She whistled, sliding the door open with a shake of her head “some kinda bonkers rescue mission then? I guess she really missed the guy….hope they’re gonna be alright. Khura’in is goin’ through some hard times last I heard.” 

"Yeah, Apollo's been swamped," Phoenix nodded as they headed into the house. "I hear him and Sadmadhi are the only ones doing the job. And that's not even the political stuff. There's a lot of responsibility on their shoulders."

“Ghhh…” Maya grimaced as she shuffled off her shoes and stepped into her house slippers. “I’m not surprised. Ga’ran amok with a country’s legal system’ Sigatar Khura'in didn’t exactly leave things in a great state. I hope they can book it soon…it wasn’t bad there, but..”

She shook her head, and Nick saw a momentary sadness cross her face “it gets lonely when all you’ve got time for is your responsibility and work that never ends.”

It was personal, he knew that. Even Pearl and Iris had all but moved as far as they could away– which meant Maya was up here with only the occasional visits and the title of ‘Master’. 

It has been weighing on Nick's mind. It has been weighing on his mind for months. But never more than in these last few days. 

He thought about the item he'd brought in his bag, along with the snacks. 

"It sure does get lonely," he murmured. "But hey, if they bring him back, maybe you can actually meet Apollo."

She tugged him in after he switched his shoes, into the long hall surrounding the central courtyard of her Japanese styled manor home.

“You know, I’d like to? He seemed like a pretty cool guy the few times I caught like– half a sight of him.” 

"Yeah you guys didn't have much chance to get to know one another in Kuhra'in, sadly," he said, following her into the manor. 'I feel like you guys would get along."

“He always looked so serious!” She laughed as she rounded the corner past the former display area of the Urn of Ami Fey…where Phoenix had once seen Pearl playing with her ball. “You don't think I'd annoy the guy?”

"No way. You'd be surprised by how annoying he is too." Phoenix snickered�� though he glanced nostalgically at the spot. Pearl was 18 now, going on 19, and enrolled in the police academy, hoping to become a detective.

Maya glanced out at the courtyard before she tugged him into one of the rooms…a large living room style space with a stove sunken into the center of the room, surrounded by old scrolls and dividers bearing the legacy of the Kurain tradition.

And of course the series of familiar mats around the stove that Maya instantly patted for him to sit atop as she got the pot.

Pearl had grown so much, and pursued a dream nobody had really expected. But this room didn’t look any different than the last time he’d arrived. Hell, it still looked the same as it did that second time she’d been accused of murder.

“No shit? Then we’ll get along like a house on fire.” 

Phoenix took a seat and started pulling snacks out of his bag and arranging them on the table for Maya. There were chips, cheese snacks, jerky, and boxes of instant noodles, and more. 

"Like a house on fire sounds about right. So I'm hoping they'll get him back just so I can get a front row seat."

Maya laughed. 

“Gonna drag him all the way out to Kurain eh? I’d ask if he liked the mountains and uh…” She looked around the room as she filled the teapot from a small spigot in a kitchenette off to the side. “A rustic atmosphere. But if he’s living in Khura’in, he’s gotta love it.” 

"I'm sure he'll be thrilled," Phoenix chuckled. He shuffled through the contents of his bag, and hesitated as he grabbed the folder inside, debating with himself.

Maya turned with a broad grin “OH SHIT!” she pointed to the table “you brought me noodles!!!” 

Phoenix left the folder where it was and grinned. "I wasn't gonna come without your goodies, Maya."

Maya trotted over and dropped the teapot on the burner with a slight splash of thankfully cool water from its spout. 

“You’re my hero, Nick! My literal, actual hero!” She picked up the jerky with a broad grin. “MEAT!” 

"Wish I could have brought you some actual burgers, but I figured it was better than nothing." He chuckled, leaning on his hand and watching her.

She flopped down, holding up the jerky like something holy. 

“I’ll eat this in memory of you, Nick.” with a giggle, she opened it up and took a big bite with her eyes closed “...It’s been nuffin’ but rice and pickles and veggies for weecksh and weecksh…”

Her mouth was full, her manners as atrocious as ever, but at least she looked happy.

It made him nostalgic, and he felt a swell of affection. "I know it's part of the whole medium thing but it always feels a little rough to me to force you to go without."

“It’s traditional.” She said after she swallowed “and if there’s one thing we love in Kurain it’s tradition!”

She looked down at the jerky in her hands with a chuckle. “There’s always tradition.” 

"There sure is," he sighed. He reached back in his bag– then took his hand out and shook his head. He looked back over at Maya. "But there's other stuff, right?"

“There’s channeling!” She said with a lopsided grin “and the mountain air. And…you know…the priestesses and the old folks. It’s nice to see ‘em smiling and happy.”

She reached slowly for a bag of chips. “And I mean..I grew up here, you know?” 

He pushed the chips toward her. "Yeah. Like Apollo grew up in Khura'in too. That's why I'm not sure they'll be able to bring him back."

Maya opened the bag of chips, listening to the water as it heated. 

“It's hard to leave your home, you know? Especially when it needs ya…you can’t just leave it to suffer without you…and it ain’t the same when you’re gone. Sometimes you just gotta accept that it’s where you belong, you know? 

"I guess in the end there's only one person who can make a call like that, huh? Trucy and Klavier might come home covered in bite marks."

“Yikes!” Maya snickered. “If they do, are ya gonna laugh in their faces with an ‘i told ya so’ or give ‘em bandages?” 

"I might," he said. "But I might be sad for them too. Any way I can help you with the tea?"

Maya rustled in the bag of chips with a shake of her head “It’s just heating up, don’t worry about that…it’ll just be another minute or two.”

She took a bite of the chip, joy sparking in her eyes for a moment before it quieted again. “I’ll be sad for ‘em too. I bet they miss the guy, huh?” 

"Trucy especially. She was his co-counsel, you know? For a while. Like you and me used to do."

Maya had a chip in her mouth when she looked up at him with a half smile. 

“those were the days, huh?” She chomped the chip with a look of satisfaction before she continued “...being someone’s co-counsel feels special, can’t blame her for being kind of heartbroken to lose him like that. Suddenly your life’s a lot quieter.” 

"Actually," Phoenix said, feeling himself start to sweat. He couldn't believe he was doing this. He shouldn't do it. But… He reached into his bag and pulled out the folder. "Speaking of those days– could I ask you to look over a legal document, for me?"

“Forget how to read legal docs during your break, Phoenix?” Maya teased him playfully as she held out her hand for it. “you’re hopeless. I’ll take a peek for ya, sure.” 

"You know I did," he chuckled. "Even a couple years back in the game, I still don't have all the skills back I had when you were around."

His fingers twitched, but he managed to hand her the document. There was a slim stack of papers inside.

They weren't particularly obtuse documents.

He'd typed them himself.

Maya opened it up to read them, starting from the top as she tucked her hair over her ear. 

They were business papers. A contract for a permanent position as the manager of Wright Agency, and a full half stake of the company.

He watched as her brow furrowed. She flipped a page– they widened– .and then she jumped as the teapot began to steam and she hurried to take it off the burner with wide eyes

“...N-Nick…this….”

There was a name typed in at the bottom, waiting to be signed.

Maya Fey.

"It's an offer," Phoenix said quietly. "And a plea, too. I know Kurain needs you, Maya, but– I need you too."

Maya pushed her hand through her hair, her breath catching as she looked between the paper and him. 

“I…Nick, I miss you too. Of course I miss ya…I need you too but…” She looked down at the paper again, her eyes lingering on the name. “but who’s gonna take care of the village while I’m managing the office? Nobody. There’s nobody else! Mom already abandoned them and died, Mia left….Morgan was a monster, Pearl esca— is following her dream. I’m the only one here who can bear the responsibility!”

She tensed “I trained for it, for years. If I just left I’d …what would happen?” 

"Maya, I'll be honest, I don't know what would happen," Phoenix said quietly. He looked down at the table. "I don't know what would happen to Kurain, or the people here without their important medium blood leader. But I know what would happen for me. I'd be happy. I'd get to have you in my life. I'd get to wake up and see you smiling, and get to take you out for burgers, and ramen. And have you by my side in court."

His fingers tensed on the edge of the table as he remembered that fateful case almost ten years ago now, when Maya hadn't been by his side. Everything had gone wrong. And he'd lost 7 years of his life to a kind of despair. "It's not the same without you, Maya. I'm not the same. I– it's not fair to put it on you, I know. But I'm a selfish man. I always have been."

Maya’s eyes started to tear up, and she reached up to push her hands through her bangs again. She stared down at the contract. 

“It’s not the same for me either, you know” “I mean…I…I’ve changed too.” She looked up at him with a shaky smile. “But you know me, you know I’d love to wake up next to you and fight it out in the courtroom, or have ramen whenever I want, or goof around and watch the Pink Princess and all that! But the people here need a leader…and if it’s me or Pearl, I’ll take the bullet before she has to. She’s got a dream now…” 

"Why? Maya?" Phoenix said, leaning across the table.He let it out. He let out what he'd been holding in– what had been building in his chest for years now. "Why do they need a leader, and why does it need to be you? Who even cares about any of this? Do you? Mia left! Pearl left! It's the 21st century– these people don't need you as a leader, they're using you, they're using your talent to bolster their way of life– and you don't even want to live that way!"

“You’re soundin’ a lot like her…” Maya grimaced as she reached for the teapot “louder and louder lately.”

Her fingers curled against the handle as she lifted it and fumbled blindly for the teacups.

Nick staggered to his feet and moved to help her, grabbing the teacups for her.

"Sounding like who? Cause they sound like they have a good head on their shoulders."

October 2, 2028– 11:35 am

Maya heard Phoenix get up, stepping beside her to take care of the cups while she took the teapot. He had a plaintive look on his face, which seemed, just for a moment, to not have aged a day since they'd first met.

She dropped her head into her hands, rubbing at her temples with her fingertips as she felt her jaw tighten “like nobody…don’t worry about it, Nick. I’m just talking to myself.”

Like Mia. She’d always heard her voice since the murder’s aftermath, on and off— and more in more the longer time went on– she wasn’t foolish enough to tell herself it wasn’t real, she was the Master of the Kurain Channeling Technique after all, even if it wasn’t the usual sort of channeling it was clear to her that the voice and presence in her head, draped throughout her like an extension of herself was none other than her departed sister.

“Does it matter? Whether they’re using me or not, this town needs me to survive.” 

"Economically, Maya," he said, taking the teapot from her as well, and pouring tea for them. "They need you to survive economically. No one's going to die if you leave. They need you the same way a farmer needs a prize cow to show at the fair, I know that seems harsh, but it's true."

It is harsh, Mia said. But he's not wrong, either.“Ghhh…” Maya closed her eyes tightly. “c-calling me a cow, huh Nick? That’s a great way to convince me to come back to LA, sure!”

She laughed it off like a joke, even as she felt her eyes sting. She knew they were profiting off her, but that’s the way it’d always been. The village was the mediums and the mediums were the village. There wasn’t one without the other. 

He set down the teapot and put his hand on her back. "Maya, you know that's not what I'm doing. But what are you getting out of being here, really? They're sucking you dry. Why should you be forced to serve them forever as their pet medium, just so they can get rich off your talent? Just so they can continue their reputation? Tell me off if you really want this, Maya– but if you don't want to be here, you don't have to. You really don't."

Maya bit her lip hard, feeling the pain as her tooth nearly cut the skin. She tried to summon the will to tell him off, but she couldn’t lie to herself…

She didn’t want to be here. Why would she wanna waste away in the mountains doing the job her mother abandoned? The job everyone else escaped from, forever and ever until the last of her talent dried up and she died for whatever offspring she managed to have to take up the burden in her place.

It was miserable. SHE was miserable being so far from every little pleasant thing she got to experience for a short and blissful time away from the village. 

Phoenix put his arms around her shoulders. 

"Maya. I'm not going to stand here and advocate for Kurain village. To me, they're a bunch of backward people who hurt you, and Pearl, and Mia, and who Pearl and Mia couldn't wait to escape from. They're a bunch of bitchy women who backstab one another and are ashamed of their husbands. I couldn't advocate for them if I tried." She felt his arms trembling around her, and his face on the back of her head. 

“I want you, Maya. I love you. I've kept my mouth shut for almost 10 years, because I don't have any right to tell you what to do. I don't own you, you're your own person. But I hate to see you dividing yourself among greedy people when I want you for myself. It hurts, Maya. It hurts because I love you, and I miss you."

Maya felt the hot patter of tears hit her hands as the teapot swam in her vision.

“I…” she hiccuped quietly. “I love you too, Nick. I know we never said it before but…but..I do.” Her fingers tightened on her lap as she looked up at him with a rough attempt at a smile. It hurt, but..the whole thing hurt. “You aren’t wrong…this place is a mess.”

Mia…I don’t know what to do. I know , I know what you’re gonna say but…

You know what I'm going to say, already, Maya. You know you do. I think that you should follow your heart. And I don't think your heart is in Kurain village any more than mine was.

Phoenix combed his fingers through Maya's hair. "I should have said it a long time before now. I didn't want to put a name on it. But I should have. I love you, Maya. Run away with me."

Maya choked, her shoulders shook and she felt the sudden wet trickle of tears hitting the backs of her hands and running onto her kimono below, leaving dark and damp spots near her folded knees. .

“I…I…” she whimpered. “I wish you said it sooner, Nick….wouldn’t have needed to run far at all. Hah. Hah.”

She gripped her kimono tighter in her fingers.

“Looks like everyone’s always runnin’...running from Kurain. Mia…wants…would want…me to go too.” 

"Mia, huh?" he said quietly in her ear. "That's what I thought. Yeah. I bet. I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner. I didn't think– after what happened, I didn't think I had any right. And then you were in Khura'in, and I— I realized how completely lost I am without you."

He squeezed her tighter, holding himself against her body.

Maya leaned against him with a choked laugh. 

“You really are helpless without me, Nick. I turn my back, you lose your badge…or start smashing your way through a country’s legal system.” The laugh didn’t stop as she half fell against him “Nick…do you got any idea how small Kurain is? It’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. It’s just this circle of houses and the channeling chamber…everything outside is …situational.” 

"I have some idea, Maya. It's suffocating you, isn't it?"

She nodded , looking up at him with tear stained eyes. “I used to think I could live my whole life there. But Mia, when she vanished, she kept inviting me out and showing me things in the real world. I loved it…but it meant that comin’ back felt like being put in a cage.” 

As Maya turned around in his arms to look at him, she saw his own eyes filled with tears as he looked down at her.

"I don't want you to live in a cage, Maya. Pearl doesn't want that. Iris doesn't. Mia didn't want it. Not for you, and not for her. Please, Maya— will you be my partner again? We've been through so many crazy things that turned out to be real. Can we make this real?"

Maya hiccuped again, and she nodded. 

“y-...Holy Mother, are the spirits of Aunt Morgan and the rest gonna be unhappy…but y-yes.” She closed her eyes tightly to stop the way her vision swam through her tears. “I wanna be your partner again, Nick. I w-wanna run away.” 

He leaned his chin on her head, and she felt his throat against her as he swallowed. "Maya, I don't care who else is unhappy, because I'm the happiest I've ever been. We're going to be happy, together."

Maya leaned up to kiss his chin. It wasn’t going to be easy…not emotionally. Not when the elders of the village came to ask questions…but…

I’m making the right choice, right Mia? I’ve gotta follow my heart.

It's the choice I made, Maya. I didn't even have someone begging me to go with them, and I never regretted it for a second. Even though it made my life a lot shorter. 

[atopvisenyashill]

Dead dudes club Anon: I meant that Tywin, Rickard and Hoster dies when their kids are still young leaving their wives as regents for their sons. Like let's say Tywin who doesn't lose his wife but is so worked up that he has a dwarf son that he ends up falling down the stairs and breaks his neck. Hoster could die in a hunting accident sometime after Edmure is born and Rickard ends up with some sort of illness after he and Lyarra have Benjen.

i would like to apologize in advance for my incessant use of em dashes in this post lol. okay even with some adjustments, you run into an issue here where-

steffon, aerys, tywin, rickard, AND hoster all die within a few years of each other, and that’s going to cause a mass conspiracy. i mean JUST jon arryn dying was enough to make the twins suspicious maybe he was onto them & that man was old as balls. nearly every lord paramount dying within a few years is soooo weird. “well doesn’t this essentially happen in canon” yeah because of the political unrest happening tho lol there’s a Reason for it.

there’s no way for steffon to die in the shipwreck and cassana to be regent because robert is already 16 at that point - remember he’s a few years older than the twins! and you can’t have cassana be regent without butterflying away renly bc he’s born 277 and they die in early 279.

also hey 🤧🤧 i did the math just right there on tywin!!! the defiance of duskendale happens in 277, so the twins were only 10-11, which means joanna is regent for a few years still.

we could easily kill rickard off in a wildling excursion but brandon is 20 when he dies in canon which means he’s been lord of winterfell for four-ish years so no matter what, lyarra isn’t the one calling the shots by the time ~the plot~ really starts. i figured it might work better if lyarra is at winterfell when rickard & brandon die bc even tho everything falls to ned next, having a grown adult as The Stark In Winterfell while ned is in the wind/in the vale is interesting - unlike benjen, Lyarra can lead troops into battle. If she had been regent, it’s likely Lyarra is at Riverrun with the Tully kids and Minisa for the wedding though, which could also be interesting and i suppose also gives her more of a chance to actually LEAD because we know it takes a minute for northerners to get past the neck - as robb says, they even wind up starting the war without half their force bc a bunch of the mountain clans couldn’t get there in time. but if lyarra is there for the wedding, that puts her in a position to lead. especially without aerys there to call the parents to court - i don’t think rhaella is going to pull a stunt like that.

i think hoster or rickard is the easiest to handwave murder off - hoster is always up to some shit and both the wildlings and skaagosi have historically picked fights with the north from time to time.

and regardless of alla that, rhaella is likely to seize the regency with tywin’s help anyway - tywin has already made a name for himself, is aerys’ friend, and tyrion won’t be born until 273, which is eleven years after jaehaerys ii dies.

most of my answer still stands here - rhaella is taking the throne with tywin by her side, and you can bet in the years between cersei’s birth & his death, he’s going to be pushing rhaegar/cersei as a match, something that will be in rhaegar & rhaella minds after he dies; either minisa or cassana are likely to be the architects of the southron ambitions plot alongside jon arryn, and that alliance is still going to cause problems for the crown when rhaegar loses his mind, because the moment brandon doesn’t get a straight answer about where lyanna is, Lyarra is probably going to use the northern host to start sacking cities and searching for her daughter (since she hasn’t been brought to the capital to burn by rhaella).

the biggest change here is probably the twincest. we know joanna knows about it early on BUT. tyrion’s birth is likely going to put her out of commission for a minute or two. he’s born in 273 so if we say she’s healthy enough to start moving around by 275 (which. omg these two idiots were really out here feeling each other up at the age of like 6 ajsjs 😭), i imagine she broaches the question of jaime’s marriage at this point, which is probably also when rhaella starts asking around for suggestions for rhaegar. if tywin dies after tyrion, i can’t see her fostering jaime out because he’s lord now and she’s the regent. if she catches them together again, it’s probably cersei she sends away - maybe to lannisport, maybe to the capital (with herself, and kevan stays at the rock to train jaime). even if we have tywin die at duskendale, at that point the twins are 11, and it probably amounts to the same - cersei is sent away while jaime stays home. once he’s closer to 16, she’s going to start talking about jaime marrying elia, and cersei Will attempt to sabotage this.

the canon event goes: jaime helps defeat the smiling knight -> jaime stops at KL to see cersei -> cersei tells him about the lysa betrothal & jaime joins the kingsguard. this tracks even with tywin dead - again, likely (imo) joanna and cersei go back to the capital once she’s healed, and there will be still be an opening on the kingsguard. cersei has also spent several years with rhaegar at this point - he would have married around 176ish, so Maybe they’re married to each other or maybe she’s a lady to his wife - and rhaegar no longer has to listen to rhaella. if cersei is like “heyyyyyy rhaegar, babyyyyyy” WELL….especially if CERSEI is married to rhaegar. but even married to someone else, i mean, the first step to making sure they’re together forever is to make sure HE can’t marry lol. it MIGHT not happen - jaime has spent the last several years not as heir but as LORD and he might take giving it up a bit more seriously But he might not! if this plan is foiled, you can bet joanna is not only asking loreza if elia and jaime can marry RIGHT NOW (IF rhaegar’s bride isn’t elia), she’s also going to do something drastic re: cersei. and like idk man what do you do if your kids won’t stop fucking? send cersei to be a septa? to the silent sisters? she might, if cersei isn’t married yet, get cersei married quickly and far away from jaime but if cersei marries rhaegar, well……she’s not foiling this plot, it’s happening for sure. so basically either cersei marries rhaegar & jaime is on the kingsguard OR cersei is lady to his wife, which Might still let her plan happen.

[foomoosworld]

THE RAVEN AND THE FIREFLY

CHAPTER 1 - QUOTH THE RAVEN NEVERMORE

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem Reader

Joel is put onto garbage duty in the QZ and he finds a woman he never thought he would meet. She makes him see stars.

Minors DNI. Drug use, violence, overdose. But no smut. So we'll tick that off next time.

Also, welcome Stars Too Far readers that figured it out!

“Fucking, Tommy…”  Joel muttered, irate, as he stepped in the door to his house.

“Ah, don’t blame him.  He’s just working through some stuff.  Besides, if he was more responsible, I’d be out of work.” A man followed in behind Joel.  They’re both covered in dirt and sweat from working all day and their work boots clunked on the floor as they walked.

“I guess you’re right.” Joel stubbornly admitted, “But we would have been done at a reasonable hour if he had at least called and told me he wouldn’t be coming in.  His childish crap got us three hours behind today.  I could have seen my daughter before she went to bed.”

“Yeah, that’s rough.  They grow up too fast.  We spend too much time working to provide for them.” Joel’s co-worker says as he flops down on the old couch and looks around Joel’s living room.  Joel moves to the kitchen then points at him and asks, 

“You want a beer?”

“God, yes.”

Joel comes back and twists off the top of a bottle of beer and tosses the cap onto the coffee table then hands it to him before he does the same with his and sits down on a large comfortable chair, putting his boot up on the coffee table, swigging his cold beer and sighing with exhaustion.

“So… ‘Poe’... That’s a funny name.  I thought you said you were from Guatemala?  Is that short for something?”

“Nah… My father was just a big Edgar Allen Poe fan, I think.”

“Ah, ‘Quoth the raven Nevermore’ and so on?”  Joel quotes.

Poe nods and laughs, “Yeah something like that.”

“I never really caught the bug for reading except to Sara when she was little.”  Joel admits.

“Me neither.  But hey, Dr Suess is still a doctor, right.  That counts as intellectual reading”

Joel laughs and leans over to cheers Poe, “Man, I miss the years of reading to Tan and Amy.”

“Those your kids?”

“Yeah, Amy is 9 and Tan is 11.”  Poe nods as he sips his beer.

“‘Tan’?  Your family is big into unlikely naming conventions, huh?”

“Short for Tanner.”  Poe explains.

“Oh, right,”  Joel laughs at the now obvious answer. “I’d like to meet ‘em sometime.”

“Sure, well, you can meet Amy.  I haven’t seen Tan in years.  He’s technically not my kid but I raised him for a long time.  His mother suffered from mental illness.  Times got tough for a bit and I didn’t know she went off her meds to try to save money for us.  She started having delusions, thinking Tan was some prophecy from another galaxy.  She took off with him.  I filed missing person reports but the cops don’t care about a Gringo like me and his broke family.  Swept it under the rug.  I looked for them for years but they both disappeared without a trace.  I know they're out there somewhere though.  One day I’ll find ‘em.  She’s not a bad mother.  She would never hurt her kids.  She just can’t tell what’s real and what’s not when she isn’t on her meds.”  Poe shakes his head, sadly as he stares off to somewhere in space.  

“I’m so sorry.  Between the addiction problems, mental illness and everyone being broke these days it’s tough but no one should lose their family from it.”

“Yeah…Life happens too fast sometimes and we’re just left struggling to try to keep up and slow it the fuck down again.”

“I’m glad I met you today, Poe.”  Joel says.

“Yeah,  I’m glad I was available to help today.  You really remind me of someone I met a long time ago, actually.”

“A good guy, hopefully?”

“Yeah.  He really was.  Lives really far away so I don’t see him anymore though.”  Poe finishes his beer then as he puts it down notices the time on his watch. “Oh shit… it’s really late.  I gotta get going.  Do you need me on the site tomorrow?”  Poe asks Joel as he gets up and puts his jacket back on.

“Yeah, come on by.  Even if Tommy does manage to bless us with his presence tomorrow I can always find some work for you to do.”

“Thanks, man.”  Poe extends his hand and heartily shakes Joel’s hand. “It really means a lot to me that you’re helping me out like this under the table.”

Joel waves him off as he walks him to the door.

“I know how it is.”  He comforts him, “I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.”

Poe thanks him again then turns and goes to get in his truck as Joel closes the door.  Joel rubs the back of his neck tiredly and walks into the kitchen with the empty beer bottles and puts them in the sink.  As he walks out of the kitchen to go upstairs to bed he passes a calendar that has tomorrows date circled that says in Sara’s loopy handwriting, “Dad’s Birthday”.

Joel shuts the lights off and goes upstairs to bed leaving the house blanketed in the silence of night.

…………………………….

A large dirty handkerchief is tied around Joel’s face and his clothes are covered in grime as he wipes the sweat dripping from his forehead in the blazing summer sun.  He’s taking a momentary break as he unloads garbage from a large truck into the local landfill.  A job he didn’t outright hate.  It paled in comparison to sewage work or worse, burning the infected corpses in mass open graves.  It could have been worse work today, however, the downside is the worse the work is, the better the pay is.

Sure, the landfills smelled horrible, so bad in the heat of the summer it could make your eyes water, but there were no people out here.  It was like being in outer space.  Just miles and miles of nothing.  Technically, it was outside of the QZ, but it still had a large concrete wall around it so the infected couldn’t get in.  The government liked to needlessly protect their trash and use everyone’s tax dollars on useless expenditures rather than giving the people proper rations or access to consistent clean water.  Staring at the landfill wall always sparked some silent anger deep down in Joel’s chest but it was just one of many things in the world after the outbreak that enraged him.

Seagulls suddenly fluttered up from a spot in the distance then circled frantically around the area, cawing and creating a ruckus.  Joel shielded his eyes from the sun and squinted into the distance to see what could have possibly startled them. 

“What the?”

A figure emerged on the top of the trash heap in the horizon, wearing a tattered shawl.  It seemed to turn and look at Joel and the truck then skittishly, turned and disappeared on the other side of the trash heap.

The driver of the truck came around and elbowed Joel to get his attention.

“What are you doing?  Get on the truck.  We’re done for the day.”

“Wh-”  Joel turns and looks to the driver. “Did you see that?”

“See what?”  The driver asked, feigning interest as he walked back to the driver’s seat.

“That person… over there on the hill.”

The driver laughed at him, “You’ve been out in the sun too long.  Here,”  He tosses Joel a water bottle which Joel unscrews and takes a sip but never takes his eyes away from the horizon to see if they will appear again.  “There’s nothing out there but old mattresses, wood skids and the occasional dead seagull.”

After a moment of staring into the wavy heat of the distance Joel concludes it must have just been a heat mirage and shakes his head to regain his composure then heaves his tired body into the passenger seat of the truck.

“Get yer eyes checked, old man.”  The driver says as he puts the truck in gear and it grinds into motion, jerking and bouncing over the neglected, gravel landfill road.

……………………………..

Joel is sitting at the rickety, worn, wood table in his dilapidated studio suite.  It’s a tiny room with dusty windows and cracked walls.  It didn’t make any sense to put money into anything nicer.  He had given up on planning a future beyond these cracked walls.  Not that there was anything nicer to live in anymore in the QZ.  Everything was crumbling and no one knew how to fix it.  From the living spaces, to infrastructure, government, laws, morals and hope.  From the top to bottom the entire thing was crackling like an old statue, every now and then a facial feature would just slide off without warning, forever changing the once beautiful place and making it ugly, scary and dangerous.  

An open bottle of unlabeled dark liquor sits on the table next to him and a greasy, fingerprint smeared glass holds a splash of whiskey still left in the bottom.  Joel  looks down at his broken watch in front of him, the one Sara had fixed for his birthday.  That fateful night that she was shot to death by military when the outbreak started.  The night his entire life lost its meaning and any sense of purpose.  But the entire world seemed to have lost its meaning and purpose that night, Joel realizes as he downs the last bit of whiskey in his glass and refills it.  Why should his life be any different? 

He gets up, swaying slightly and suddenly feeling how tipsy he is.  With his glass of whiskey in his hand, he steps over to the window to look out over the city.  The dust had amounted thickly on the window so he had to use his flannel shirt to rub a circle in it to look out.  He, mostly, didn’t want to know what was going on in the world outside unless it had to do directly with him so windows often had no purpose other than free light or an escape route.

No one dared to walk the QZ at night.  The military jeeps were full of young men, mostly hopped up on drugs that Joel sold to them, with itchy trigger fingers and anger from having their future robbed of them.  Joel didn’t blame them for their anger.  Hence, why he justified selling drugs to people barely adults.  They had no future.  They were born into this godforsaken place, would never leave it, and deserved a break from reality now and then.  However, anger and mind altering substances often make terrible bed partners and oftentimes innocent people would be shot after dark, almost as if target practice. The only ones scurrying around were the thieves, drug runners, some Fireflies and anyone up to no good.  Joel had been one of those for years.  Less and less now as he ages but, on occasion Tess will bring him a job and he finds himself trying to cloak himself in night as he’s dodging headlights and cowering in the shadows of crumbling buildings for a few measly bucks.

He looks down at the street below and sees Tess dodge across the street between military vehicles passing and he shakes his head with a sigh, “You’re gonna get yourself killed.”  His hand reaches up to his dusty window and draws a sad face in it.

The eye of that sad face flickered at him.  Joel did a double-take flicking his eyes back at the dust drawing he just did.  Again, he saw the flickering just beyond the sad face in the dusty window,  He quickly used the sleeve of his flannel shirt again to clear another patch to look out and there it was, clear as day, a small fire, with smoke pluming up from it, coming from the landfill.

“I knew I saw you!”  Joel whispers to himself proudly.

He watches for a few moments more before the fire suddenly seems to go out as if water was dumped on it.  He eventually turns and flops down in bed.  The alcohol taking hold, and the pills didn’t hurt either.  He would sleep for 8 full hours tonight, but restless, synthetic sleep.  Never the less, sleep that was welcomed.

……………………………

There’s an arm around him.  He stirs suddenly and looks down with a start as Tess’s voice rings out from her position curled up to him,“One of these days you’ll get used to me sleeping next to you and not wake up like I’m going to murder you.”  She smiles as she, too stirs from her sleep.

“Yeah, well… maybe you’ve murdered a few too many people for me to consider that option.”  Joel grunts sitting up.

“Hello Pot, this is Kettle and he is black.”  Tess jokes.

“What were you scurrying around for last night?” Joel grogilly rubs his face.

“You saw that, huh?” Tess quips.

“If I saw it, then you know the military saw it too.  Or worse, the Fireflies.”  Joel goes to put on a pot of coffee.

“Maybe the Fireflies sent me out there last night.”  Tess teases as she raises an eyebrow at him.  He looks over his shoulder hesitantly then decides to drop it.

“Why do you keep coming here?”  He turns and leans against the small kitchenette counter.

“Dancing is more fun with a partner.”  She snarks.  “Not that you are ever sober enough to stand after 7 PM.”  Joel shoots her a glare, pours coffee into a mug for himself and one for Tess and hands it to her.  She nods and takes a careful sip.

“The Fireflies did send me out last night.  There’s been camp fires in the landfill and they want me to find who is lighting them.”

“Hm.”  Joel says sipping his coffee, deciding not to disclose what he had seen the previous day in the landfill.

“They think it’s a woman and they want to speak to her.”

“Is that so?”  Joel fakes disinterest.

“There’s a big pay out if I find her and bring her to them.”

Joel puts his coffee down and Tess knows she has his attention.

“How much?”

“Enough to get us out of here.”

Joel sighs in exasperation.

“We’re not getting out of here.  There’s nowhere else to go.”  He states simply and slightly frustrated to argue this with her once again.

“You’ve seen it.  I can tell.  You’ve been on the landfill crew for the last few weeks.  You’ve seen something.”

Joel buttons up and sits at the table, concentrating on his coffee.

“Joel - “ Tess approaches him and crowds in excitedly, “Have you seen her?”

“You need to work on getting a battery for that car if you really want to drive out there to your death.  Don’t worry about what isn’t living in the landfill.”

Tess watches him intently for a moment.

“You’re a terrible liar, Joel Miller.”  She stands up with a huff. “I’m going out to the landfill tonight,” She states as she slings on a backpack and moves to the door. “Come with me or don’t.  I don’t care.”

“I won’t.”  Joel sips his coffee, faking disinterest.

Tess opens the door and before she leaves, she says over her shoulder, “Hurry up  You’ll be late for your shift shoveling garbage until you die on your feet.”  She steps out and closes the door.  Joel sneers at the door once she’s gone then looks at the time and jolts up, realizing he’s late.

“Shit.”

…………………….

The garbage truck jolts and jars as it enters the landfill as Joel sits silently in the passenger seat.

“You smell like a brewery.”  The driver says.

“Last I checked booze aint prohibited.”  Joel snaps at him looking forward out the cracked windshield.

“You got anything for me today?”  The driver changes the subject.  Joel sighs, knowing he’d be kicked of this gig if he didn’t keep brigbing the driver with fentanol pills.  He hands him a small zip lock bag with four pills in it.  The driver smiles and exclaimes, Ha!  There it is.  Come to Papa!”  He chimes as he drops a pill into his mouth and swallows.

Joel shakes his head and grunts to himself, seeing the irony of the driver’s guilt trip.  But that’s the thing with the younger generation.  Pills to numb the pain of living has become so common place that it’s not even blinked at when someone is high all the time.  But someone who works and connects and pulls strings to find alcohol is shunned.  Joel partook in pills as well, but he knew how quickly they could ruin your ability to make money.  And money keeps you alive in the  QZ even if you go crazy by not medicating with drugs.

“Get out and shovel.”  The driver ordered.  Joel opens his door that creaked and groaned it’s own symphony of discontent, then jumped down to begin shoveling the garbage off the back of the truck. 

He started by tossing out some large, broken and forgotten furniture into the landfill and suddenly, his back spazmed and he felt a shot of pain that sent him to his knees.  He cried out in pain but the driver didn’t respond.  He couldn’t move as he crumpled to the ground and called for the driver, “Crankshaft!”  He called out the driver’s nic name but there was no response.  He crawled around the side of the truck and saw his door still open and a cloaked figure bending into the cab of the truck.

“Hey!”  He shouted.  You looked back at him momentarily from under your hooded, tattered shawl, then went back to what you were doing in the cab of the truck.  “STOP!”  Joel commanded but you didn’t back away.  After a moment you pulled out Crankshaft and laid him on the ground.  He was foaming at the mouth, overdosing.  You began giving CPR, pumping hard on his chest, rhythmically then breathing into his mouth.

“What are you doing?”  Joel shouted as he crawled closer.  You worked on him over and over but it was obvious he wasn’t coming back.  You fall back, your cloak falling off your face as you panted, exhausted, “Is he….”

“I’m sorry���”  You say, “He’s gone to the stars now.”

Joel notes your odd phrasing of his passing.

“Fuck.”  Joel hangs his head.

“He was a friend of yours?”  You ask.

“No.  He gave me a job.  And now I’m fucked.  They will blame me for him overdosing”

“Ah…”  You trail off, not understanding but also not caring and look to the horizon. “Goodbye then.”  You get up, lift your hood over your head and goes to walk away.

“Wait!”  Joel raises a hand to you from his position on the ground.

“I can’t walk.  And they’ll blame me and kill me if they find out he overdosed.”  He knows pleading won’t work on people so he pulls out his bag of fentanol.  “I’ll give you these pills to sell if you help me to where you’re staying for tonight”

“The pills that just killed your friend?”  You raise an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah.  It’s all I have to offer.”

You approach him then with a studious pause lean down and wrap your arms around his midsection, hefting him to his feet..  Joel shouts in pain.

“Stop.”  You hiss at him. “We can’t hide if you’re screaming.”

Joel nods between pants and the two of you slowly make your way over the landfill.

It took hours but you made it to a small hill of garbage where you pulled back some wooden skids and tarps to reveal a hole that went down into the landfill.  You struggled to get him inside then pulled the random trash to hide the door again.  You sat with him in complete darkness for a moment before you fumbled around and managed to lite a lantern made of an old, dirty jar and coat hangers.  You grabbed him with your other free hand and hobbled him into a small room that opened up with a wood burning stove, a bed and a broken bookcase that had shattered kitchenware.  You lower him onto the bed..

“You’re the one I saw the other day that frightened the seagulls.”  Joel tiredly states.

“Yes.”  You admit openly.

“Who are you?”

“People call me Amy.”  You say warming up a kettle in the wood burning stove.

“What do you call you?”  Joel weakly asks.

“My real name is Ameo”

“Huh… I used to know a guy that worked for me who had a weird name.  He named his kids normal names though.  Probably the trauma of being named after a horror writer.  One of his kids was named Amy, actually.”

“Common name.” You shrug.

Joel relaxes into the bed as you pour the kettle into a bowl and soak long strips of fabric in the hot water.  You pull up his flannel and undershirt,  “What are you.-”  You place the long strips of warm fabric along his back and he immediately understands what you’re doing as the warm fabric strips begin to relax his back.

“What was your friend’s weird name?” You ask smoothing more strips along his back.

“Poe.  After Edgar Allen Poe.”  

Amy stopped what she was doing.

Joel looked back, “Are you okay?”

Amy’s hands shook and her eyes grew wide.  Joel tried to turn to look at her as much as he could.

She asks,

“Are you Joel?”

THE RAVEN AND THE FIREFLY MASTERLIST

[blue-eyed-bloodstains]

1. Do you enjoy Jim Carrey movies? HELLLL YES! ALLLLRIIIIGGGHHTTYY THEEENNNN! :D 

2. Don’t you love to eat watermelon on hot, sunny days? I’ll eat it anytime really

3. Does your hair change color with the seasons? it gets natural blonde highlights the more it’s in the sun 

4. Have you ever made a CD with music that reminds you of someone/something? yep several times

5. Do you watch Saturday Night Live? What do you think of it? not really I’ve seen it in the past and I’ll see occasional clips but I was more a huge MadTV fan. I think it’s alright, some are funny and some aren’t. 

6. What is your favorite sporting event to watch during the summer Olympics? What about the winter ones? I never really watch em but if I do, I definitely love the gymnastics and snowboarding...curling too

7. Do you play the Sims? Would you say you’re addicted to it? I used to so much in the early days of it I’m so far behind!! I wanna play it so bad to see how different it is!

8. Name the last five artists you listened to. Jesse McCartney, Eppic, Michael Jackson, Tyga feat. Chris Brown, Skillet

9. Do you know anyone who is lactose intolerant? Do you know anyone who is allergic to wheat? I mean I don’t think so personally, at least they never told me or made it obvious for either one? 

10. Do you usually make plans for the week ahead, or do you just make them as the days come? nope never really make plans at all except figure out what I’m craving for dinner to DoorDash...I play it by ear

11. Is there an animal in the same room as you? yeah my passed out with full belly cat 

12. What language do you take in school? Is it boring to learn it? I took mandatory Spanish like everyone, and once I was able to choose my own I took Italian for a few years. It wasn’t boring really, I loved it...just wish I remembered more than a few words :(

13. Do you remember what the last kind of gum was that you had? Ice Breakers Cubes, Spearmint

14. Do you tend to grow out of things fast? ...meaning like, emotionally and mentally? unfortunately I lose interest in a lot of shit I normally love due to my severe depression so I guess in a way yeah...

15. Do you like to eat cinnamon rolls, or do you find them disgusting? I love em especially if they’re real moist and creamy

16. What is the approximate time and date? May 19, 2023 Friday, 8:10am EST

17. When was the last time you went on Facebook? a few days ago I’ve been too sick

18. Who is your favorite survey maker on Xanga? What about layout maker? I think I’m the only person I know who never went on Xanga! *hides*

19. What is your favorite kind of salad dressing? tie between ranch and balsamic vinaigrette 

20. Do you know where your favorite band/singer originated from? If so, where? Which one? JoJo from Mass., Tay Swift from right here in PA, Eminem from Detroit, Alexz Johnson and Avril Lavigne both from Canada...

21. Do you tend to take or make more surveys? take

22. Isn’t it revolting when big hairy old men walk around with their shirts off? And also when women wear clothes that don’t fit them? Fuck this question???

23. What color are your earphones? white

24. Do you remember the last photo you took? What was it of? What about the last photo you put on a website? I believe it was a selfie on FB, and took was of my cat

25. Do you like long surveys or short ones? long

26. Have you ever used a silver Sharpie? What’d you think of it? no I’d like to though

27. Do you enjoy Japanese anime? Have you ever seen the Miyazaki films, like Howl’s Moving Castle, Kiki’s Delivery Service, or My Neighbor Totoro? hellllll yessssssss omg don’t get me started!!

28. Do you like to eat out more or eat in? Which do you do more often? I love getting take out or going out to eat but we mostly DoorDash and stay home...

29. Do you believe you’ve gotten better at making surveys? I’ve never made any, only taken em

30. Do you enjoy watching shows about survival? Why/why not? meh not really, just not my thing really...I’m more about the crime shows and docs so complete opposite :P

[nyxerebus]

Not Him (Negan X Grimes!Reader)

A/N: I have a other Negan x Grimes reader series, but this is NOT a apart of that series, just a one shot i wrote :) You can read part 1 of that series here: I'm Her Daddy Now

TW: Gore, Make out, Blood, Angst

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

Her back was pressed to the RV. The Saviours had started to force the people from Alexandria to kneel in front of it in a half circle. They hadn't noticed her yet. Would they recognize her? She had changed a lot since the last time she saw her dad and younger brother. Her hair was longer and darker, and her scarf was covering half her mouth and nose. She had started to look more and more like her father though, the famous Grimes stare would stare back at her in the mirror every morning. A cruel reminder of the family she had lost. The family she thought she had lost, until she saw them in front of her now.

Her eyes wouldn't leave her baby brother, how much he had grown! He was not the scared 11 year old she got separated from all those years ago, now he was a tough young man. And by the looks of his eye situation, it had been a long and rough journey since they last saw each other.

“Are we pissing our pants yet?” She rolled her eyes at Negans extravagant entrance. He was always like this, so much. “Boy do I have a feeling we're getting close”

She had been with The Saviours the past two years, been with Negan for one. She wasn't a wife, she was more than that. She was his girl, his right hand woman. By the look of how her father was staring at Negan, telling him about their relationship would be a tough talk. But nonetheless she looked forward to talking with him, to be able to be a family with them. She prayed they would forgive her for being on The Saviours side. Considering what was about to happen. This wasn't the first ‘punishment’ she had been a part of. She knew what was going to happen. She droned out when Negan went on with his speech about how they needed punishment, and how he owned them now. It wasn't until he was deciding who to kill that she focused on the conversation.

“eenie ... meenie ... miney ... mo '' Her blood ran cold when Lucille landed in front of her younger brother. “No!” She heard her father exclaim. “Shit, man. I’m usually not happy about child murdering, but Lucille is a thirsty woman!” He raised the bat. Her body acted before her brain could tell it no. She took long strides and placed herself protective in front of Carl, shielding his body from Lucille.

“Not him” She hissed out. Negan was taken back, usually (Y/N) wouldn't have trouble when he had to punish new communities. “The hell you saying?”

“Not. Him” She glared at him, she would rather die than let anything happen to her brother. Negan leaned down so only she could hear what he was saying. “You know him?”

“He's my brother,” she whispered. Negan took a step back and rubbed his beard. “You know I have to punish them” He gave her a stern look. “You want to kill him? You have to go through me. Take somebody else”.

“Listen folks” He was addressing his men. “Now some new information has occurred and it looks like my girl here knows this boy. Now I am a gentleman” His famous smirke etched its way to his face. “You all know I can't say no to my girl, but my other girl demands some punishment for their actions. Now I want to please both my girls at the same time. So, we spare the boy, but my girl has to choose who will take his place AND finish the job” He held out the end of Lucille to her, while the men in the back murmured in agreement and some even cheered her on.

She grabbed Lucille. “Go get em BabyGirl”. She turned around and faced Carl. He was crying now. She tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it didn't seem as if it helped. Her eyes danced between the group that was kneeling. Her eyes landed on the large redhead, he pushed up his chest, as if he presented himself as a sacrifice. She walked over and stood in front of him. The dark skinned girl next to him cried out when she realized what was about to happen. (Y/N) was standing in front of him and leaned in, whispering so only he could hear. “I’m sorry”

“Don't worry, if it saves the boy. I’ll gladly take it” She raised the bat. and with all her might swung it down. The sound of the cracking of a skull was a sound all too familiar to her, but she had never heard it when she was the cause. it almost made her stop. But she couldn't stop. She took swing after swing. Knowing how Negan wanted him to end up, to end up in a mess of blood and brain goo. Blood splattered everywhere, and she had to fight back her dinner making its way up when she saw his skin tear and expose his brain. The bat felt heavier and heavier after each blow down onto the man's head. Christ, she didn't even know the name of whom she was killing. Cries and cheers filled the silent night. When she heard the splattering sound of the bat hitting the brain goo, she stopped. She turned around to face Negan, avoiding her family's gaze.

“Look at my dirty girls!” He exclaimed, and pulled her towards him, her back pressing against his chest. Blood had splattered on her face and upper body, but Negan didn't care. He never cared about blood getting in the way. He grabbed Lucille from her and turned her head sideways, so he could whisper into her ear: “Good Girl”

“(Y/N), I, what-” Rick was trying to speak, the shock of the situation still not leaving him. “I have to say, seeing my girls work together like this, just warms my heart-” He squeezed her closer; “and tickles my balls” He grinned at his men, who mostly chuckled at his crude words. “You can go to him” He whispered and realised his grip on her. She was about to walk away, but was stopped when he grabbed her arm. “Wait” He pulled her back so they were chest against chest. “Give me a kiss first” She just rolled her eyes, knowing he wanted to rub it in Rick's face that his daughter was with them, with Negan. Standing on her toes, she reached up and kissed him, she was going for a simple peck. But he tightened his grip around her and deepened the kiss. His tongue invaded her mouth and she had to bite back a moan. When he pulled back a string of saliva was still connected between them God, how he loved the look on her face. Covered in blood, with a post makeout haze still in her eyes. He laughed out and realised her. And without being pulled back, she walked over to Carl and kneeled down in front of him.

“Hey” She whispered out, he stared back at her with a dirty glare. But tears of seeing his sister for the first time after thinking she was dead was pressing on. But then one of the guys in the line up jumped up and punched Negan in the face. You gasped and were about to stand up. But Negans men handled it and held him down. “No, nope. Put him back”

She knew what was going to happen, Negan was going to kill one more. She wouldn't let Carl see that, see it again. “Don't look” She pulled him closer so his face was pressed against her chest, face turned the opposite direction of the group. Carl was fighting back, but gave up after his sobs got the best of him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and cried into her chest. “Shhh”. The sounds of someone else getting beaten and the all too familiar cries filled the air once again. “No!”

“Its going to be okay” She tried to comfort him, “I won't let them hurt you” His sobs got louder when he heard the stuttering of the man who was being beaten; “Maggie I will find you”. He whispered the name of the dead man into her chest. “Glenn” Negan speaking and the cries of the group became just background noise. All she cared and focused on was her brother. She rubbed his head and back, trying to lull him into a calmer state. But she was pulled from her work on comforting her brother when Negan grabbed Rick and pulled him away. “No!” Carl shouted, sitting straight up and separated from her. (Y/N) held Carl back from punching up and attacking Negan. Negan sent (Y/N) a small nod, which she returned with her own nod. They were telling each other without words:

‘I can't promise he wont die’

‘As long as Carl lives, I don't care’

“Calm down Carl!” She held her back. He started to cry again, the fear of losing her father taking its hold on him. (Y/N) wiped his tears, bur cringed when some blood from her fingers stained his cheek. “Come here” He fell into her arms again. She didn't know what to do. She hoped Negan saved her father, but her father was a grown man. Her primary mission now was to secure her brother. And she would be damned if she didn't succeed.

[partiallystarsif]

I’ve been quiet here a long time, huh.

I apologize for that, and thank you all for your patience. For those who don’t follow my other blogs, I got sick at the beginning of the year and have been fighting my way back to something that feels normal ever since. I think I’m close to it again finally, and have been trying to get back to work on both Speaker and Partially Stars.

As a peace offering and a gift for waiting so long for me, I present: a playlist. 26 songs, featuring 2 for each crewmember plus a few others!

(Here on Spotify)

The game should be along before much longer as well. Just a bit more coding to do 🖤

Track list below the cut:

01. Satellite Call - Sara Bareilles You may find yourself in the dead of night / Lost somewhere up there in the great big beautiful sky

02. No Plan - Hozier There's no plan, there's no race to be run / The harder the pain, honey, the sweeter the sun

03. [Akina] I'll Be Good - Jaymes Young I'll be good, I'll be good / And I'll love the world, like I should / Yeah, I'll be good, I'll be good / For all of the times that I never could

04. [Akina] Different Kind of Knight - Christian Kane See I'm a different kind of knight / You're gonna find your fairy tales are lies / I don't have a white horse / But you can come along for the ride.

05. [Ahmed] Fake Happy - Paramore See I'm gonna draw my lipstick wider than my mouth / And if the lights are low they'll never see me frown

06. [Ahmed] Fistfight - The Ballroom Thieves The day I finally met you like I knew I would / You raised me from the wreck of my doubt / You were smiling to yourself as if we both understood / The silent language of the anguish of a heart that sings but doesn't make a sound

07. [Q] Outside Of This Town - Christone "Kingfish" Ingram I'm so tired of doing the same old thing / Shooting for the highest star / Want people to remember my name

08. [Q] Something Just Like This - The Chainsmokers & Coldplay Where d'you wanna go? / How much you wanna risk? / I'm not looking for somebody / With some superhuman gifts

09. [Sun] On To The Next - Tyler Bryant & The Shakedown I got nothing to lose / Nothing to hide, nothing to prove / Put your money in your mouth, roll the dice, make a bet / Stack up your chips, watch me push 'em off the edge

10. [Sun] Start a Fire - Ryan Star Here we go / Just lose control and let your body give in / To the beat / Of your heart as my hand touches your skin / Is this love / Or just sexual desire / We're gonna start a fire

11. [Mack] Still Breathing - Green Day As I walked out on the ledge / Are you scared to death to live? / And I've been running all my life / Just to find a home that's for the restless / And the truth that's in the message / Making my way away, away

12. [Mack] Love Sneakin' Up On You - Bonnie Raitt I gotta know, do you feel the same? / Do you just light up at the mention of my name? / Don't worry baby, it ain't nothin new / That's just love sneakin up on you

13. [CJ] Watch Me While I Bloom - Hayley Williams If you feel like you're never gonna reach the sky / 'Til you pull up your roots, leave your dirt behind / Mmh, baby you got a lot of shit to learn

14. [CJ] In Your Eyes - Gavriel All I know is I can't get you off my mind / I'm still unsure if uncertainty is certain doom / Then it goes right back to you / And I can't remember being blue

15. [Smith] Heaven's Got A Back Door - Dead Sara I'm through feeling sorry / For the things that I can't choose / If I made it this far being who I am / Maybe heaven's got a back door too

16. [Smith] One Woman Man - John Legend From the moment that I met you / Knew that I would never let you / Slip away, it's okay / You can make me / A one woman man

17. [Harper] All I Really Want - Alanis Morissette And all I really want is some patience / A way to calm the angry voice / And all I really want is deliverance

18. [Harper] Like Real People Do - Hozier I will not ask you where you came from / I will not ask you and neither would you / Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips / We should just kiss like real people do

19. [Walker] I'm With You - Avril Lavigne I'm looking for a place / I'm searching for a face / Is anybody here I know / 'Cause nothing's going right / And everything's a mess / And no one likes to be alone

20. [Walker] Wicked Game - Chris Isaak What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way / What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you

21. [REDACTED] My Way - PVRIS I don't ever fight, just blow a kiss / And I got two fists but I'm a pacifist / I'd rather stay high and just take, take, take the hit

22. [REDACTED] As Long As You Love Me - The Backstreet Boys And how you got me blind is still a mystery / I can't get you out of my head / Don't care what is written in your history / As long as you're here with me

23. [Stowaway] Man In The Box - Alice In Chains I'm the man in the box / Buried in my shit / Won't you come and save me? / Save me

24. [Stowaway] Sweet Surrender - Sarah McLachlan It doesn't mean much / It doesn't mean anything at all / The life I've left behind me is a cold room / I've crossed the last line / From where I can't return / Where every step I took in faith betrayed me / And led me from my home

BONUS 25. Firefly Main Title - Sonny Rhodes

26. The Real Folk Blues - Mai Yamane

[yemilnisu]

INCORRECT HAIKYUU QUOTES FROM BUZZFEED UNSOLVED

nisu entries:

i got this idea from @memekingofwwiii and some of it are theirs 🙇🏻‍♀️ thank you for letting me add it here 😊 it’s a mixture from buzzfeed unsolved supernatural and true crime 👀 i really had fun doing this!

warning: swearing, mentions of death/murder/killing/blood/weed

「part 2」

Tendou: i did have a neighbor who had an overhang of a lime tree, and it was great because i could go pick a little lime.

Ushijima: did you ever think about killing your neighbor?

Tendou: when he didn't give me limes, yeah.

Ushijima: oh, okay; all right.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Matsukawa: this is my bridge now, if you want it back you’re gonna have to kill me.

Oikawa: he did throw someone off the bridge once.

Matsukawa: fuck you, goatman!

Oikawa: Jesus Christ.

Kunimi: *behind the camera snickering as mattsun taunts the goatman much to oikawa’s dismay*

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Matsukawa: hey demons, it’s me, ya boi.

Matsukawa: if you want to eat my heart, turn that light on. If you want to eat oikawa’s heart, turn that light on...

Oikawa: don’t drag me into your shit, mattsun.

*torch turns on*

Oikawa: *screams*

Matsukawa: *laughs hysterically as he continues to lie on the pentagram*

Kunimi: *actual wheezing*

Matsukawa: i think this demon’s a wimp.

Oikawa: he’s out of his fucking mind.

Kunimi: *having the time of his life*

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Oikawa: every human's capable of murder if you push them enough. i just don't know if this is enough of a push.

Iwaizumi: okay.

Oikawa: it's true!

Iwaizumi: is that so?

Oikawa: yeah.

Oikawa: i bet you you would murder me if I pushed you enough.

Iwaizumi: yeah, probably.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Tsukishima: …

Tsukishima: so, you're telling me, at nine years old, you don’t go to church. the first time you cross the threshold into holy ground,

Nishinoya: *makes noise and imitates blood coming out of his nose*

Tsukishima: blood expels from your nostrils?

Nishinoya: yeah, yeah. they ran outta tissues! mopping that up.

Tsukishima: …

Nishinoya: it was wild!

Tsukishima: it sounds wild.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Kuroo: i think it was the neighbor. look, i’m a simple man. i see a trail of blood going to someone's house. even if they didn't do it, come on; you're going to jail.

Kenma: i think it might've been a random person.

Kuroo: all right.

Kenma: it just seems too obvious.

Kuroo: okay.

Kenma: there's a paper trail of their feud. why the hell would he be that dumb?

Kuroo: rage, you know? lust, rage. rage just- just building up, bursting out.

Kenma: well, i've never really gotten that angry. i don't really have that capacity.

Kuroo: it's building. it's building inside you. everyone sees it; we all see it.

Kenma: that's great. oh man, i can't wait for krakatoa then.

Kuroo: *shuddering* oh- oh- i shudder.

Kenma: hope no one's in the way 😺

Kuroo: …

Kuroo: scary.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Daichi: he allegedly chased his mother with an axe when he was 19.

Asahi: not great.

Daichi: (wheeze) no? not off- off to a bad start?

Asahi: no good. i’ve never done that. you didn’t do that did you?

Daichi: no! i didn't- what- is there anything to suggest that I would chase my mom with an axe?

Asahi: (inhales) not outright i feel like if you peel the layers back.

Daichi: you think if you peel the layers back from this onion, you'll see something you don’t want to see?

Asahi: yeah. i think you wear a mask sometimes 😅

Daichi: mm-hmm i think you should keep digging and maybe see what happens 🙂

Asahi: uh no i'm good 🧍🏻‍♂️

Daichi: *staring at asahi*

Asahi: 👁👄👁💧

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Osamu: my takeaway is people from chicago are weird.

Atsumu: the- this does not represent chicago. this is people and go "ey! chicago tylenol murders"

Osamu: (laugh) home with the beam, the cubs and the chicago tylenol murders and of course our nation's greatest tragedy, miya atsumu.

Atsumu: that- that's not me.

Osamu: i read it somewhere 🤷🏻

Atsumu: no, you didn’t, you probably wrote it.

Osamu: yeah.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Suna: i’d love to be an heiress.

Kita: (snickers)

Suna: i know she’s probably gonna disappear or something.

Kita: so you wanna be a trust fund baby?

Suna: i’d like someone to give me a lot of money for doing nothing. but i want-

Kita: and then you wanna disappear?

Suna: yes. i want to get a lot of money and then vanish from the face of the earth.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Ennoshita: her family believed that when she left at 11:30 am, she had as much as $30 in her purse, which in today’s dollars would be more than $750.

Nishinoya: holy moly!

Tanaka: that’s a lot of quiche—

Nishinoya: yeah.

Tanaka: that’s a lot of quiche.

Nishinoya: thirty bucks going that far in 1910.

Tanaka: i don’t even have $750 in my bank account.

Nishinoya: i’ve never had $750 in my pocket! i rarely have had $30 in my pocket.

Ennoshita: well i don’t really carry cash anymore-

Nishinoya & Tanaka: who does!?

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Yaku: stop number one, mothman statue.

Lev: it looks very ornate.

Yaku: *shocked that lev knows that word*

Yaku: you’ll be able to stare at it eye to eye.

Lev: what’s that supposed to mean?

Yaku: it means you’re eight feet tall, it’s a tall joke. get it?

Lev: 🧍🏼

Yaku: 🤦🏼‍♂️

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Akaashi: any... any thought in that so far?

Bokuto: (fart sound) nope. what year is it, ‘66?

Akaashi: ‘66.

Bokuto: few teens out there probably smoking a few funny cigarettes.

Akaashi: you could say weed. it’s 2018.

Bokuto: ...some grass.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Kageyama: so my guess is the couples were somewhere around here, maybe on that road over there.

Hinata: yeah.

Kageyama: and i'm not sure of the exact location but this is where they saw him stumbling around.

Hinata: they just… saw him kinda shambling?

Kageyama: yeah.

Hinata: big shambling man. kinda *shuffling his body*

Kageyama: i- i don’t know, maybe he was just taking a walk, i mean, what's it to you?

Hinata: why would you take a walk if you had wings?

Kageyama: he's a fucking creature, he can do what he wants.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Kuroo: but all im saying is that what you need to gather from this is that he has an effect on people's psyche.

Lev: this mothman's a complicated character.

Kuroo: what does he sound like? what does he sound like?

Lev: he sound like the blood bird.

Kuroo: …

Lev: flappy spookster.

Kuroo: …

Kuroo: that's- come on.

Kuroo: *glances over to lev's notes*

Lev: the winged wretch. did i already say that?

Kuroo: this just says fright terror.

Kuroo: *throws away the notes*

Lev: you know, just call him batman, why is that hard? 😩

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

(howling)

Goshiki: what the fuck.

Shirabu: well those are coyotes… or dogs. Or a large pack of something.

Goshiki: holy shit.

Shirabu: just some coyotes.

Goshiki: are you not fucking alarmed right now?

Shirabu: are you scared? (laugh)

Goshiki: dude wait- this goes beyond belief, that was a pack of, whatever the fuck that was.

Shirabu: it was coyotes!

Goshiki: is that our cue to leave? i think maybe. we've been out here for quite a bit.

Shirabu: yeah, i don’t know if were gonna find anything tonight.

Goshiki: i don’t wanna be in the mouth of some coyote later, that's not how i want the picture wrap on old tsutomu to be.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Atsumu: air force one? they filmed air force one here?

Atsumu: air force one actually, now that i think of it, remember the reason they hijacked the plane is to release for the-

Sakusa: i’m gonna go ahead and cut you off right there 'cause i don’t give a shit.

Sakusa: we’re gonna move over here.

Atsumu: …okay.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Kai: four people in a cell, that's a lot

Kuroo: i mean, you put any normal people in a room that's too small. like if you’re in a dorm in college, if you hate your roommate…

Kai: it's tough business

Kuroo: listening to music too loud when i'm trying to study

Kai: hwfrrrrr…

Kuroo: cookin' uhh… top ramen in the microwave when i'm trying to sleep

Kai: you got some axes to grind?

Kuroo: no.

Kai: oh

Kuroo: fuck you, daishou.

Kai: daishou?

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

(distant thud)

Yamamoto: what the fuck?

Kenma: :3

Yamamoto: is all i have to say to that.

Kenma: they didn’t like the thumb talk.

Yamamoto: you didn't like the thumb talk? was it too much thumb talk? i thought we went about two minutes long on the-

(distant thud)

Kenma: they don’t like the thumb talk.

Yamamoto: *looking around in shock*

Kenma: *stopping himself from laughing*

Yamamoto: uhhhh… holy fuck. holy fuck, holy fuck. if you’re one of the people that had that thumb thing to happen to you, that sucks. what was it like?

Kenma: what do you think you're gonna get right now? 😑

Yamamoto: i feel like we should go see what that is, to be honest.

Kenma: *shakes his head*

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Tsukishima: we’re walking over to the source of the disturbance.

Hinata: hello? (sigh) i’m gonna lose my mind. so, it did that twice within the span of 10 seconds but nothing else?

Tsukishima: but, we can confirm that it did sound like this right? *slams the cabinet door*

Hinata: yeah.

Tsukishima: that was the sound.

Hinata: do you think the wind’s gonna do that twice?

Tsukishima: *blows on the cabinet door*

Tsukishima: not moving 🙄

Hinata: well, shit.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Sugawara: oh there it is. it’s that. *pointing to where the sound was coming from*

Asahi: what?

Sugawara: there’s a logical explanation for you.

Asahi: ah! okay, there it is. well, there you go, there you go.

Sugawara: but, if we hadn’t seen that...

Asahi: if we hadn’t seen that we would be fooled 😅

Sugawara: no, we wouldn’t have been fooled. you would have been telling me for months.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

*inside the prisoners of ohio state penitentiary*

Kageyama: this is fucking terrible.

Tsukishima: it’s the opportunity of a lifetime to be here.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Tendou: i’m separating from the group.

Semi: it’s the ideal time to kill him.

Tendou: yeah i mean, if i were gonna die in camera it would be a pretty noble thing.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Osamu: I don’t understand what’s wrong with atsumu sometimes.

Atsumu: what was that?

Osamu: i didn’t say anything.

Atsumu: you sure you didn’t say anything, ‘samu?

Osamu: now go back and set ‘em off to make sure they work.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Sakusa: *inhales*

Atsumu: *inhales*

Sakusa: you need to back up from me. i can feel your air intake. it’s like a gross nasal jet, i don’t know.

Atsumu: *takes a step towards sakusa*

Sakusa: uh no *takes a step backwards*

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Futakuchi: latch yourself onto my soul, come back to hollywood with me, and destroy the lives of all my friends and coworkers.

Koganegawa: a little hard to follow, but i like where you’re going.

Futakuchi: kogane’s family has a little-

Koganegawa: ey! ey! do-! do-! don’t!

Futakuchi: -dog named mickey.

Koganegawa:*trying to stop futakuchi*

Futakuchi: real good. you wanted me to give it my all. i’m throwing stuff on the table.

Koganegawa: insults, not personal information. you’re giving him a dossier on my life!

TAG LIST

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[dumdumsun]

And Dusk

A/N: Just a heads up, the sensitive content in this chapter will be marked "<<<<<<" as the beginning and ">>>>>>" to signify the end. The racial slurs used in this chapter were targeted towards African Americans (and still are) and I chose these because I, myself, am African American and used them as a sort of “default” for any POC readers. ⚠️Please, never use these towards anyone. Whether it be in a “joking” manner or not. They are hurtful and were created to be that way⚠️ I wrote this chapter the way I did to bring awareness. Proceed with caution. Much love ❤️

Warnings: ⚠️racial slurs⚠️, violence, mentions of guns and dying/death

Word Count: 3707

—————————————

Chapter 3: The Frankel Footage

Shaking himself out of his shock, Five stood from his seat and hurried after his brother, grabbing onto his arm and stopping his strides. “The hell is wrong with you, Luther? I just told you the world’s gonna end in ten days!”

“Yeah, well, you’re always saying that.” Luther nonchalantly spoke before moving away, but Five intervened yet again.

“And so far, I’ve been right.” He hissed as Luther sighed and shook his head.

“Look, you want to go save the world? Knock yourself out, alright? I already got a job.”

“Wait, you work in this shithole?” The boy furrowed his brows.

“Yeah. Well, my boss owns the place,” Luther only received a nod from his brother, so he clarified. “I’m his body man.”

But this only made Five even more confused. “What’s that? Like, a masseuse or something?”

“Okay, you can make fun all you want, but I take good care of Mr Ruby.”

“Wait, Ruby. The Jack Ruby? The gangster who shot Oswald.”

Despite Five’s concern, Luther proudly smiled a smug smile as he glanced over at his boss. “Yeah. The one and only.”

“Well, it finally happened,” Five sighed. “That gorilla DNA has finally taken over your mind-”

“Hey, watch it, alright? Jack’s a good friend-”

“And you’re Number One. Numero Uno. Remember?”

Luther clenched his jaw and shook his head. “There is no Number One. Not anymore. Not in 1963,” When Five stared at him in disbelief, Luther sighed again. “Look, I’ve been stranded here alone for a year. What did you expect?”

Five scoffed. “I get it, alright? You watched Pogo die, the world exploded, and I marooned your big dumb ass in time. I’m sorry, okay? But I’m asking for your help, Luther. The Umbrella Academy needs you.”

“It doesn’t need me,” He slowly spoke to draw out his words. “It never did.”

“Luther, honey,” The waitress from earlier approached the two. “Jack’s about to lose it on some half-wit. A little help?”

“Ah, shit,” He groaned and began walking away. When Five tried yet again to stop him, he whirled on him, his lips pulled into a thin line. “Listen. You’re the genius who said we should jump, right? You’re the one who got us stuck here. And you’re the one who brought Vanya. So, if there is a doomsday coming, she’s probably the cause. And if I was gonna do something about it, it sure as hell is not gonna be with you. That’s (Y/N)’s job, being dragged around into your messes-”

“I don’t drag her into anything.” Five swallowed, blinking rapidly.

“Yeah? Well, she wasn’t stuck as a thirteen-year-old and constantly worrying about her kids until you showed up. I’m surprised she isn’t sick of you yet.” And with that, he stomped away to his boss. This time, Five let him go, his words sending a pang through his chest as he thought back on it. Grabbing his drink, he sighed and shook his head.

“Dad should’ve left him on the moon…” He muttered, taking a sip of his drink before moving to leave his seat. When he felt his jacket snag on something, he looked down to see an object in his pocket. Taking out the tape, he frowned and turned it over.

Date: 11/22/63

Subject: FRANKEL FOOTAGE

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

This world was unfamiliar to (Y/N). She knew she had to have been somewhere in America, but she didn’t know where. The cars, fashion and stores bringing the street she walked to life told her she had to have been in the sixties. But she didn’t want to believe it. Surely Five hadn’t time travelled that far? She had to have been dropped during some type of sixties-theme festival. But the voices suddenly beside her quickly prove her doubts wrong.

“What do we have here?”

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a lost little colored girl.”

Tensing, (Y/N) continued her way down the sidewalk, slightly speeding up her pace, but the men fell into step beside her with ease, flanking her sides.

“You’re on the wrong side of town, girl.”

“Yeah, we don’t like coons around here.” One of them hissed right in her ear. Her eyes welled up with tears before the other shoved her forward.

“Gon now, get!” He ordered as if she were a dog. She realized that’s how they had seen her. An animal. Nothing more. Tripping on a crack in the sidewalk, she fell to the ground, smacking her face on the concrete. She choked out a sob as the two men cackled. And to make matters even worse, she felt the pitter patter of raindrops start to freeze her skin.

(Y/N) gasped out in shock when the men spit two wads of saliva in her face. She knew she must’ve looked a mess with spit and tears sliding down her cheeks and blood oozing from her nose. She hiccupped on her sobs and began to stand, much too tired from her previous fight with Vanya and literally being dropped from the sky to successfully do so. The men backed her up against a wall and one fisted the front of her vest before a voice called out.

“Take your hands off of my child!” Whipping around, the men were half expecting to find another target, but (Y/N) coughed and sputtered nonsense upon the person her gaze fell upon.

“M-Mom…?”

Before her was Grace, but… she wasn’t robotic in any sense. She could tell by the raw anger etched into her features. She took a brave step forward. “I said. Take your hands. Off my child.”

And that was another thing: her accent. (Y/N) was immediately comforted by the stern southern accent the woman shared with her attackers. It was a voice she never thought she needed. The two looked between Grace and (Y/N) with smirks. “You mean this lil ol’ jigaboo-”

“Is my daughter. Now you let her go before I call the police.”

“Woman, I don’t care if you call the police-”

Grace took it upon herself to step closer and grab the child by her arms, yanking her into her warm embrace. (Y/N) immediately latched onto her, quivering in her hold. The men scoffed and shook their heads, beginning to walk away. “Make sure to keep that thing on a leash if you’re gonna have it out, ma’am.”

“Oh, fuck off.” She growled before turning and walking back in the direction the girl came from. As they walked past the alleyway, Grace took out a handkerchief and began wiping the girl’s face clean of what the raindrops hadn’t already washed away. “It’s alright, hun, they aren’t gonna hurt you anymore.”

“T-Thank you.” (Y/N) sobbed and gently held her nose in pain. Grace crouched in front of her and gently held her face in between her hands.

“Don’t thank me, darlin’, it’s how everyone should be treatin’ you ‘round here… Where are your parents? I could take you to ‘em.”

(Y/N) thought for a long moment, watching as the rain soaked Grace’s hair and clothing. The woman didn’t seem to mind as she watched the girl before her swallowing thickly. (Y/N) skimmed over her current choices. She didn’t have any choice.

“I don’t have parents. I-I don’t remember them…”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

“I’m tellin’ you, Reggie, she’s highly intelligent for a child her age.” Grace proudly presented (Y/N) to the man she had grown fond of over their time working together. (Y/N), however, was frozen in her spot. Sir Reginald Hargreeves. The man whose death she had wished upon for years, whose death had finally graced her existence, was back in her life. She flinched at the disapproving look on his face, much too acquainted with it by this point in her life. “And she’s very respectful. Talented, too, this girl can speak several languages.”

“You seem rather fond of this child.” The man observed as Grace squeezed her into her side.

“She’s my pride and joy.”

“And you cannot remember anything of your past, child?”

“N-No,” (Y/N) shook her head and stared down. “Not a lot. J-Just my name and birthday.”

Reginald hummed and stared her down with an unreadable expression. When she met his eyes again, he was crouched down to her level, his monocle clutched in his fist. “(Y/N), was it?”

“Yes.”

“It would be an honor to have your presence within my home, along with your mother.”

“O-Oh, that’s okay-”

“I insist. Besides, you have been living with her for almost half a year, correct? It is highly unlikely that she will share a home without you.”

“He’s right about that, hun,” (Y/N) glanced up at Grace, who was smiling warmly at her. “I’m not leavin’ you.”

(Y/N) could have cried.

And she did.

One year later, (Y/N) had been living quite the comfortable life with Grace and Reginald. She had been introduced to the ape, Pogo, for the second time since Grace first started working with him. As much as she loved being around the chimp, it brought back so many memories. She almost felt silly, looking after him sometimes knowing he had done the same for her in the original timeline.

Her relationship with Reginald was nothing she ever expected. He was gentle, well as gentle as Reginald Hargreeves could get, he cared for her, spoiled her, even. She wouldn’t have to ask for anything half the time. If he were to overhear a conversation between her and Grace about a dress she oh-so wanted, it would suddenly be laid out on her bed the next day. She usually had a say in dinner meals every Thursday and Sunday and Reginald listened intently whenever she would voice any discomfort or concerns with her living conditions. (Y/N) never had a real father, but she assumed this is what it was like to have one. She never wanted to let go of it.

For her birthday in 1963, she was surprised that he had actually gotten her a present. As she entered the parlor, she was met with the tiniest bark and an even tinier golden retriever, bounding up to her. She gasped and stopped low, letting him jump into her arms. She let him lick her face and giggled in the joy it brought her.

“Your mother said you would like it. Though I would never allow dogs in my house, I have come to understand that there are rules I must bend for you, my child.”

(Y/N) turned to her father. Yes, father. Reginald, also growing quite fond of their father-daughter bond formed between them, decided to adopt the girl. As much as his beliefs and his deep distaste for children protested. There was just something about this child. Or perhaps it was Grace’s insisting, reassuring him that he would make a wonderful father. (Y/N) was very hesitant at first for her own reasons she never shared, but eventually came around to the idea of being his daughter again.

This was the same Reginald Hargreeves who locked her in a dark room for five days straight, but also an entirely different man. Perhaps it was her fascination with the differences, or maybe she just wanted a real father for once.

“Thank you, Dad.” She softly smiled, the man nodding in response.

“But this is your pet, (Y/N). It is your responsibility. I will not find it in my study, in my bedroom, you are to train it yourself-”

“Can you-”

“And no, I will not help you pick out its name.”

The girl softly groaned and looked back down at her new puppy. Looking into its eyes, she smiled softly at a distant memory as a small child.

“Welcome to the family, Mr Pennycrumb.”

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

(Y/N) groaned when she felt the sunbeams of the early morning sunrise hit her eyelids, coloring her black vision with the stinging fire of orange. Rolling onto her other side, she stretched her blanket over her head. They were yanked away the next second, causing a whine to leave her lips. “Mom… Five more minutes.”

“I let you sleep in long enough, hun, it’s time to get up. You have a date with Preston this afternoon.” Grace gently pulled her daughter to sit up, giggling quietly at her look of disgust.

“Preston? Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously, let’s get goin’.” Grace patted her leg and walked to her door, waiting patiently. (Y/N) sighed and rubbed her face, letting her feet slide into her slippers. As they descended the stairs to the kitchen for breakfast, Reginald could hear his daughter’s sleepy complaining from his place at the table.

Setting his utensils down, he turned his head in their direction. “My child, how many times throughout each week must we have to repeat this conversation?”

“Until it starts making sense.” (Y/N) stepped into the dining room, now in her robe, and crossed her arms over her chest. Reginald sighed and stood from his chair at the table.

“You are one of my greatest accomplishments,” He began towards her. “There is no doubt in my mind that you would make a fine successor. I do not believe you will need a husband. In fact, you would be better off without another individual holding you back from what you are truly capable of.”

“But?” She raised a brow.

“But… I have grown to know you more than I expected… and I know that you would need someone to help manage your finances you inherit once I am gone. Preston is a fine young man who was born into this life, made into this life. He will take good care of you.”

(Y/N) knew there was only one person in this world who would truly take good care of her. But he wasn’t here, and she needed to play the part as the amnesiac adopted daughter, so she huffed and nodded. “Fine… I’ll go…”

“Thank you-”

“But only if Mr Pennycrumb can go, too.”

“Very well, but you will not be gifted another animal if you lose it.”

The outing wasn’t entirely bad. (Y/N) didn’t mind the picnic or the art museum, it was the company that made her blood boil. Preston is anything she would have expected out of him. This had been their seventh date, tenth of the ones he planned. (Y/N) sought out any opportunity she could to cancel on him to save herself from the unbearable three hours she would have to spend with the kid. He was arrogant, smug, selfish, narcissistic, and overbearing. Of course, this was not the Preston he presented to her parents. No, to them, Preston was ‘a fine man with a bright future ahead of him’, or as Grace would put it, ‘a delight to have around’. He laughed like a drunk, talked like a husband, and smelled like a man. All at the age of fifteen. (Y/N) had to remind herself on several occasions that she was mentally the older out of the two and to not stoop to his level when he got under her skin.

“Don’t you think, (Y/N)?” The voice brought her attention back to the boy beside her. She looked up from the grass they had been strolling through. When she hummed in question, he amusedly scoffed and side-step closer to her. “Never mind. I should have known you wouldn’t have been interested in politics.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” The girl raised a brow. At her confusion, he laughed and gently tapped the side of his head.

“You’ve always got that head of yours in the clouds. Or turned behind you- like right now.”

(Y/N) turned her head away from where she had been looking over her shoulder. “What? Sorry, Preston, I’m a little preoccupied today.”

“With what, exactly? You don’t seem to be the type of girl to have very many issues. Nothing to worry about.”

“And you wonder why I don’t listen to you.” She sighed as her puppy ran in between her legs, rolling in the grass once he was a few paces in front of them. Preston frowned in distaste and shook his head.

“You should really keep that thing on a leash, sweetheart.”

She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, clenching her teeth as she folded her hands behind her back. “Really now?”

“Really. You know, I’m not very fond of dogs, so I’m not sure how it’ll work out once we’re married. I think we should get one after we have kids, you know? Just so the kids could grow up with it.”

(Y/N) quickly turned her head to the left, pointing out across the street. “Preston, would you look at that?”

“Look at what?” He gullibly looked in the direction, (Y/N) quickly checking the area before almost silently singing her tune. From her shadow, her clone formed and robotically walked behind the two. She quickly switched spots with it and ordered the clone to walk with Preston before scooping her puppy into her arms and rushing off in the opposite direction. Once she was behind a diner far away from their date location, she let out a sigh and gently patted her dog on the head.

“Were you sick of it, too?” She chuckled. Resting the back of her head against the brick wall she leaned on, she let out a slow breath and began to relax. The sound of guns cocking had her head snapping up so fast, she swore she could have dislocated it. Just down the end of the line of stores were three white-haired men, one in a milkman uniform, training their guns on her. (Y/N) didn’t waste a second tucking her dog in front of her and spinning around, charging down the opposite direction as bullets whizzed past her. She dodged them the best she could, jumping a few feet in the air at the ones that threatened to take their place in her feet. It was like a dance; the twisting, spinning and jumping, and she was to perform this dance until one of those bullets killed her if she didn’t find a way out soon. Sliding to the side of a clothing store for cover, she gently shushed her pet as she caught her breath.

The three sets of footsteps eventually found their destination and rounded the corner with skilled quickness, shooting at the girl until she was nothing more than a bloodied corpse on the ground, bullet holes lodged in almost every inch of her body. The three men nodded to each other and turned around, making their way out from behind the stores.

(Y/N) had already been down the street from her house by the time her attackers found the clone in her place. She couldn’t have been bothered to check herself for any wounds, too worried about Mr Pennycrumb’s potential bullet wounds. But the pup was perfectly, happily nuzzling into her arms and wagging his tail. This left (Y/N) to ponder.

Who the hell were those men?

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

“Is it on?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know? There’s an ‘on’ button. Just- There’s something over- that jigga-ma-thing, whatever.”

“I hit the jigga-ma-thing!”

“Okay, well, just- Give it to me. I know how to do this.”

“Alright, here, here. Hurry up.”

“Okay, alright, let’s see…”

Lila didn’t look up from her task of painting poor Elliott’s toenails, his bindings he received after threatening the trio with a gun preventing him from moving too much. Which was beneficial to her, as it kept her from ruining the paint job. She softly smiled as she listened to the argument between the elderly couple on the film Five and Diego were intently watching. “They’re so cute,” She commented. “I love old couples. I’m always so proud of them for not murdering each other.”

Ignoring her, Diego turned to his brother from his seat on Elliott’s counter. “Why are we watching this?”

“Shush.” Five replied, eyes trained on the film before him, searching for any clue to the approaching apocalypse, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Yeah, I… I’m Dan Frankel. And…”

“I’m Edna Frankel.”

“...Edna Frankel. We are in Dallas, Texas, to see the president. Today’s date is November 22, 1963.”

Five nodded as everyone’s attention was brought to the projected screen before them.

“That’s six days from now.” Lila spoke as Elliott thrashed about more against his bindings. Diego sat forward in interest.

“Holy shit. This is it. The grassy knoll. Kennedy’s about to get shot. How do you have this?”

“Hazel died to get me this footage,” Five answered. “It must be the key to stopping doomsday.”

“Hazel…?” Diego frowned, remembering the man he spent hours searching for and planning to kill to avenge the death of Eudora Patch.

“Long story.”

“What’s doomsday?” Lila looked up at the boy.

“Longer story.”

“What exactly did he say to you?” Diego asked as Lila turned her head back to the film.

Five shrugged. “Well, he was killed before he could explain. But whatever he wanted us to see, it’s on this film.”

“This is very exciting.” The old man smiled before the sound of gunshots and screaming could be heard, the camera moving around in blurs due to the shock of the old woman filming.

“Oh, my god!”

“Oswald…” Diego whispered, setting his knife down as Five leaned in closer.

“The president!”

When the camera was steadied to record across the street, Five and Diego both stiffened in their spots at what their eyes caught. “Oh, no…” Five breathed and moved behind the projector, rewinding the film and scooting the cart backwards to zoom in closer. The room was silent as Diego stood to his feet and Five rounded the cart before standing beside his brother, directly in front of the film. “This can’t be…”

“Okay, you gonna fill me in now, boys?” Lila glanced between the two. “What the hell is this shit we’re watching?”

But she was ignored yet again.

“No, that’s impossible…”

“Clearly, it’s not.”

“What… What is it?” Elliott muffled past the gag in his mouth.

A beat of silence went by before the two Hargreeves whispered in unison,

“Dad.”

—————————————

Taglist: @unfortu-nate-ly @sapphicsyn @m00n-sh @starcurrent @alexander-hamilhoe @youcandalekmyballs @wonderlandfandomkingdom @yrdadjstcallsmekatya @sm0kingcrack @a-t-h-r-e-e-n-a @moatsnow @bubblegumflamingos @starstormssymphony @meowiemari @magicalgothpandamaker @simping-4-fictional-men @hehehehannahthings @harrystylescherrie @rhain3 @himikaphoo @zerocanonlywriteshit @xxeiraxx @camerondiaz48104 @isawachickeninatree

[megafrost4]

The Slave Arc

Um...just to preface, this does take place AFTER UMBARA...CHRONOLOGICALLY, THIS COULD'VE BEEN THE DAY AFTER REX RETURNS, OR THE WEEK AFTER, WHO KNOWS, AND THAT MAKES THIS SO MUCH WORSE. I HATE ARCS LIKE THESE THAT HAVE A LOT OF CONSEQUENCES THAT JUST GETS FORGOTTEN BECAUSE, SHOW.

ESPECIALLY CONSIDERING AFTER REX AND HIS MEN WERE TREATED LIKE DISPOSABLES...ONLY TO THEN BE THROWN INTO MORE AGGRESSIVE SLAVERY...

AND NOTHING GETS MENTIONED ABOUT HOW THE CLONES ARE SLAVES OF THE REPUBLIC.

I KNOW I HAVE ISSUES AS WELL WITH YOU ALL ABOUT HOW ANAKIN JUST KINDA BRUSHES THIS OFF

BUT THE CLONES...

ALL OF THEIR LIVES BRED INTO THE MILITARY [SLAVERY]

Episode 11: Kidnapped

Where we are going always reflect where we came from

Dooku just takes all of those citizens as slaves! 😳😳

It’s been 10 rotations since then when Anakin, Obi Wan and Rex and Ahsoka arrive 😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳

Ahsoka: No one's here…[yellow and green sabers]

Rex with that bazooka, yes bae 🙌

Obi-Wan: how we doing, Boil?

Boil:

[idk if he said anything here, but either way, no response if funny]

Obi-Wan: Cody, any word from the Separatist commander? [FIRST NAME BASIS ALWAYS] ❤️❤️

Anakin: Zygerrian scum! I’ll handle that slaver 🤬

Obi-Wan so sassy! 🔥

Dooku: bring him to me…on his knees 😠

He has a cute little bird… 🤗🤗🤗

Kix! On the job! 🙌

Obi-Wan surrenders after they threaten to bomb everyone…he was bluffing 😳

Obi-Wan offers to fight him hand to hand, if he loses Dooku gets him in a cage 😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳

Anakin just sliced the bomb 😱😱😱😱😱😱😱

Ahsoka: how’d you know that would work?🤨

…you guessed 😒 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Obi-Wan…oh goodness this fight is brutal 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Obi-Wan: shall we discuss your surrender…again? 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Smirking with his lightsaber 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

YEET! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Ahsoka: so, what’s your plan?

Anakin: I’m open to ideas

“young Jedi, you’ll learn your place” with his whip 😳😳😳😳

Ahsoka: I’m not so young anymore 🤬

Anakin’s interrogation tactics are…oof 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

PLO! To Yoda: what is it, Master?

FILONIIIIIII

Episode 12: Slaves of the Republic

Those who enslave others, inevitably become slaves themselves.

Obi-Wan, Anakin, Ahsoka, and Rex are on their way to Zygerria

Anakin: well, with my magnetic charm, of course 😎

Ahsoka bows so awkwardly lol 🤣🤣🤣

They are awful actors, o m g

This slave throws herself off the edge, the queen hardly disturbed…

Poor Obi-Wan has been through the ringer… 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Rex tapping that blaster just…🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

queen: “they have forgotten their ways and serve a corrupt republic”

AGAIN, THE COMMENTARY AND FORESHADOWING HERE

Anakin: looks like I have to rescue you again, old man

Rex! Gets electrocuted

Obi-Wan o m g it is burning his neck STOP IT PLEASE 😭😭😭😭

Anakin is force choking the queen

“Where are my friends?” 🤬

Queen: continue to misbehave and they die 🤬

can I just point out how CALM Ahsoka is right now? What does she do locked up? She MEDITATES...CALMS HERSELF...just, queen shit right here, and I admire her so much for this

HE JUST DROPPED SOME INTO THE ABYSS 😱😱😱😱😱

Filoniiiiiiiiii

Episode 13: Escape from Kadavo

Great hope can come from small sacrifices

Obi-Wan: no please, forgive me, Master 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Rex looks so sad and helpless

Sidious: he requires millions for his new plan…

Queen: obi wan Kenobi is growing in despair

Ahsoka: took you long enough

Anakin: well, I knew you had a nice view

Anakin: who said I was alone?

PLOOOOOOOOOOOO

Wolf leader of Wolfpack…GO OFF, BAE

Ahsoka: we’ll need a bigger ship 😏

Warthog: I’m catching too much heat 😳

Plo drops back and ends that ship 🙌 FATHER OF THE YEAR ALWAYS

Warhog: that got em general good one ❤️

Plo: keep your focus Warthog ✊

Rex get em bae yes!

Wolffe!: Yes sir!

I know a Jedi won’t kill an unarmed man

REX "I’M NO JEDI" OF THE 501ST

Wolfpack on jet packs yeah! Ahsoka just catches her like it was nothing 😱🙌

Wolfpack saving the day left and right 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥NEED MORE OF THEM, COME ON FILONI

Wolffe: that’s everyone we have to go, the facility is breaking up

I wish we had more on Ahsoka and her people...they are proud of her. But that's just me wanting to see more of Plo, Ahsoka, and Wolfpack content...FILONIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Plo putting his hand on Ahsoka's shoulder so proud of her! ❤️❤️❤️

FILONIIIIIIIIII

[be-bisexual-eat-hot-chip-and-lie]

HAPPY PJOTV TRAILER DAY TO ALL WHO CELEBRATE

[thekitchensnk]

and the spider lilies bloomed in the fall (chapter 23)

Rating: T Warnings: Violence - sadism, murder Pairing: Gin/Ran Part 1: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12 Part 2: Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21 Part 3: Chapter 22, Chapter 23

“They say that lovers doomed never to see each other again still see the higanbana growing along their path, even to this day.”

A girl collapses on a dusty road one day. A boy takes her home.

The girl lives.

—

(The boy doesn’t.)

What kind of beast are you, Ichimaru Gin?

What are you becoming?

--

--

--

(What could drive a man to kill a god?)

--

Aizen played white. Gin played black. 

He held territory on both corners of the board, but it wasn't enough. He could see the tide beginning to turn against him, white beginning to eat away slowly at his lines. Aizen was closing in. There could be no escape.

The board and the pieces were finer than any he had ever played on. The stones were not, in fact, stones at all, but rather perfectly carved pieces of bleached and blackened lacquered wood. They felt smooth in his hands, hands that had once been rough and calloused from the filthy work of keeping himself alive.

It was quite the step up in the world, he thought idly, to be playing on an actual wooden board, and not some scrap of cloth on which he'd had to draw clumsy lines - and quite something to be actually playing someone who as proving a challenge to beat.

He was going to lose, he realised distantly, and on his first time playing on an actual board as well. He hadn't been playing his best, but it still rankled him to be beaten. He frowned in concentration at the board, and seeing no path to victory, chanced a quick glance up at his opponent.

That was a mistake - Aizen caught his eye and held his look, and there was a glint of casual, entertained cruelty there.

He knows, Gin realised, brows furrowing only slightly. He knows he's got me beat. An’ worse, he knows I know he knows. What does he want? Where do I go from here?

There were four games going on; the game of go, with all its exciting swapping of pieces and setting of traps; the game of minds which had always existed above the game of go, the manipulation above the game at which Gin had always excelled, and then -

Aizen's game. Gin's game.

He’s won the first game, and probably the second. But they don’t matter, he thought with a hard stare. This one does. This matters. I’m beat, but - 

“I forfeit.”

Something dark lit up in Aizen’s eyes, like an ember suddenly come to life in a breeze.

“You’re very good,” he said appreciatively.

Gin shrugged carelessly. “An idiot could have seen it comin’.”

Aizen gaze was dark and his tone mild. “Could they, though?” he murmured. “You’d be surprised at how much an idiot does or does not see. You played well, for what it’s worth. Up to the point where you didn’t.”

The man paused, and he leaned forward.

His eyes were brown, Gin couldn’t help but notice; a warm brown, like honey, like rich wood. There had been a Rukongai girl with eyes like those, once upon a time, and Aizen had killed her. Her essence had faded into the air like tea in hot water.

“Why did you kill the third seat?” Aizen asked, the look in his eyes searching.

A lie came to him easily. It came easily because had it been any other person he had murdered, it might not have been far from the truth.

“Jus’ felt like it,” Gin said simply.

That seemed to entertain Aizen. “Oh?”

“Ain’t no ‘oh’ about it. That’s it. I killed him because I felt like it. Because I was strong. Because he was weak. Because I was bored.” Gin waved a hand abstractly in the air and stretched out.

“And that’s all?”

“Yep. Sounds about right.”

Aizen considered it a while, and then he smiled patiently.

“Are you a beast then, Ichimaru Gin? Is that all you are? A creature that blindly follows its impulses? Nothing but a creature of nature? An animal that eats when its stomach growls, kills when the impulse befalls it, and defecates when its bowls tell it to?”

Is that so far from the truth? Gin wondered.

He let himself fall backwards towards the tatami mat with a delighted laugh. There was still blood on his eyelashes and under his nails.

“I think that’s exactly what I am, Vice-Captain Aizen.” Gin informed the man, grinning. “I see that the armband of yours ain’t just for show.” He rolled over onto his stomach, and let his chin fall into his hands. “Yes. I’m a beast. Let me be a snake,” he said playfully, and the words rang with truth. “Cold of flesh and devoid of heart. My tongue flicks back and forth, always in search of new prey, and if I like what I find…” He caught Aizen’s eye and grinned for him this time. “…I swallow ‘em whole.”

He sighed theatrically. “Poor old Mr Third Seat.” The words rang with menace, and the grin was like a sickle. “Poor, poor third seat. I did like him. Best be careful, Vice-Captain. I might end up take a likin’ to ya’ too.”

Aizen looked down on him, and smiled strangely.

“A snake...” he considered, weighing up the notion. “A snake. Yes. Slithering through the mud on its belly, rising to strike; vicious, poisonous even...” His voice trailed off. “But a small snake yet. Sit back up.”

There was a command as strong as iron in that voice and so Gin dragged himself from where he had been lying. Aizen took a slow, thoughtful sip of his tea.

“You were messy. I can’t help but wonder at that. You were not so far removed from the fifth division barracks that no one would stumble upon you at work. Like a beast indeed, to kill so openly and without thought. Strong, to have bested a third seat. Skilled, to have graduated in only a year. And clever...” He looked down at the go board. “Without a doubt, clever.”

He looked Gin straight in the eye.

“It will be a shame when I tell Hirako what you’ve done.”

Gin’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, and he bared his teeth.

“Ah,” Aizen said, a dark gleam in his eye. “Were you labouring under the impression that I wouldn’t turn you in? That we’d play a while and I’d let you go on your merry way? I’m afraid not. They’ll send you to the Maggot’s Nest for this.” He paused. “It will be an absurd waste of talent, don’t you think? Verging on criminal itself. But they must have their justice. And it costs me nothing to give it to them.”

The irony was not lost on Gin as he gritted his teeth. It had been a long shot, he knew, playing to Aizen’s hunger for knowledge, his sense of intrigue, in the hope that he would take him on.

But it was not over yet. Black still had pieces on the board.

“Must they? Why? Why bother?” he asked lazily.

“‘Why bother?’” Aizen said in imitation, a small, victorious smile playing about his lips. “Why am I going to turn you in, you mean?” he said casually. “Because you’ve lying to me, and it would offend me to let you think I hadn’t noticed it from the instant we began this conversation. Trying to lie and failing, for what that’s worth, though you surely must realise that now. I’ll ask once more, and only once: why did you kill the third seat? Lie again and I’ll know.”

Gin was silent for a long moment.

“Well?” Aizen said, triumph in his eyes.

“I-“

Let him see something of the truth. Let him see what kind of beast you really are.

All of a sudden, he felt his muscles relax. He let himself fall forward again onto his forearms, slouching comfortably again on the floor.

“I wasn’t lyin’,” he objected. His voice sounded half a whine, but at least it didn’t tremble. “Got caught up in a passin’ fancy when I saw Mr Third Seat out and about walkin’ so late. But ya’ right, Mr Vice-Captain - very forgetful of me, would forget my own head if it wasn’t stuck on my neck. Missed a bit out of my story, didn’t I?” He paused dramatically, grin back on his face.

“I wanted ya’ to see me, Vice-Captain. Wanted ya’ to see me with your own eyes so that ya’d know what kind of beast ya’ve got on ya’ hands, so that when the moment came and I asked, ya’d know.”

He leant in conspiratorially.

Aizen’s brow darkened. “I’d know what?” He asked dangerously, patience running thin.

“Aah. What a helpful boy I can be.”

Aizen paused a moment, his eyes searching Gin’s face intently.

“You know?” he said, realisation immediate, words fraught.

“Bingo,” Gin said, delighted.

Aizen gaze was soft with menace. “Oh,” he murmured. “But of course you know.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Gin confirmed with a grin.

“And I take it you’ll take no pains to divulge to me how you learned of such things?”

“Ya’ a smart man, Vice-Captain.”

“A smart man would not let you live long, Ichimaru-kun,” Aizen said, and the threat was delivered levelly.

“Maybe, maybe. But there’s more than one way to gut a pig if ya’ a creative sort, and I think ya’ know that.”

Aizen leant back and considered him in silence. His chestnut hair hung about his face and his glasses gleamed in the lamp light. He made no move to speak further. It was a dangerous silence flung at him.

Gin shifted impatiently where he sat.

“I want in,” he said bluntly. “Don’t throw away a tool ya’ can use, Vice-Captain. Mr Third Seat wasn’t even third rate. He was trash. His guts were on the floor before he even thought ta’ suspect me. He was shit on someone’s boot. You want me quiet, then keep me quiet – but I think ya’ve got more about ya’ than to resort to somethin’ as borin’ as killin’ me, not when ya’ could try me out.”

Aizen’s silence was heavy and threatening.

Nothing from him. Nothing at all.

Let him see something of the truth. Let him see what kind of beast you are.

“They’re weak,” Gin said suddenly. “All of them. Worse than weak. They prate and they shuffle about to do your biddin’ and they bleat “Aizen-sama, Aizen-sama” like sheep. When they kill, they don’t kill for you. They don’t even kill for themselves. They do it because they’re nothin’ and they want to be somethin’ so badly and they’re so – so small that they can’t even grasp the kind of something they want to be, how pathetic what they desire is, how little they know how to become it. They’re so pathetic that they’re not even worth hatin’. They’re just… Nothin’. I don’t understand that. I’ll never be nothin’.”

It took Aizen long moments to speak. An expression began to pull at his lips. His smile was slow and predatory - and yet something of an alien humour danced in his eyes.

There was nothing gentle about the look. Gin had never seen its like before, and had he no knowledge of the man, he might have called it a kind of respect.

Riding high for a moment, he did not anticipate the question that came next.

“Nothing? Really? If they’re all so small, then why do you kill them, Gin? If they’re nothing at all, then why bother? Why even notice them? If they’re so small... Why do you do what you do?” Aizen asked softly.

He’d said too much and realised it a second too late. Panic began to creep up his gorge and sweat pricked at his skin.

Because that was the heart of it, wasn’t it? The suffering he inflicted – what it revealed – it was interesting. It was fun. They... were fun.

But no one else could know that. They would kill him if they knew.

The question pried at places that were too secret, too intimate to see the light of day– warm, dark places into which light had never shone, places so murky that they would swallow up the light. He had never before let himself be uncovered as blatantly as this, allowed himself to be so exposed - not to someone he then hadn’t gone on to kill.

There had been one time – a time long ago – when he had killed four men in town and had trudged back to Rangiku doused in their blood and smelling of their burnt flesh. It had ruined his yukata and the blood had settled into his shoes, never to be washed out. He had trembled to think of what she might say to him, certain that she would leave. She hadn’t.

But she hadn’t acknowledged the truth either.

Here and now, the question could not be avoided. Not if he wanted to see her again. Not if he wanted to make her whole again.

The price of tangling with the devil had always been to stake your soul. He knew, down in his gut, that he could never have expected to escape unscathed. But for a moment, he let resentment boil up in him.

For a moment, it was aimed at her too.

“What I-“ he stopped, and he drew in a deep measured breath. He found that despite his immense self-control, he could not keep looking Aizen in the eye. When he found the breath to speak again, his voice was low. “When I kill I – I see somethin’ true. In their eye. Ya’ see them dance. Ya’ see the truth they’re always hidin’.”

Aizen’s expression was warm. It was appreciative. The hair on Gin’s arms raised in a shiver of disgust. “That was the most honest thing you’ve told me all evening, Gin,” he murmured. “I appreciate your honesty. Truly.”

He rose slowly from where he sat and moved to look at the moon still hanging overhead in the sky, bloated and corpulent like fruit gone foul.

“Mutual bondage in co-conspiracy, you and I,” Aizen said slowly. His voice was low and rich. “No detail that you could divulge for fear that it would stick to you too. For every finger I drag through the dirt, a corresponding trace on your fingers; a stain for every stain of my own. An elegant, symmetrical solution. You know that your age will stand as no defence were you to betray me, and you know that I know where the bodies are buried.”

Aizen turned to him, and Gin knew suddenly that the wage had been deemed paid.

(Everything that happens now happens because you made it that way.)

Black was still on the board.

“The position is yours. We start again tomorrow.” Aizen smiled. “I look forward to working with you, Gin.”

---

And just like so, he became a shinigami and apprentice to Aizen Sosuke.

And for a time – the first time, in fact – Matsumoto Rangiku began to fall slowly from his mind.

---

[myblueeyedbuggers]

My Boys

Chapter 13

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6   Chapter 7  Chapter 8  Chapter 9  Chapter 10  Chapter 11  Chapter 12 Chapter 14

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader (Best Friend) Bucky Barnes X Reader

Word Count: 2063

Warnings:  Swearing, bit of violence if you looking very closely 

Summary: After being abandoned by her parents in Brooklyn in 1929, y/n makes a living for herself by working for the Црни лабуд gang until she meets two boys in a back alley and her life slowing begins to change.

Ey up my Loves, so we’re back and kicking ass! Quite literally in this Chapter, I’ve been going back over my previous chapters and I’m considering rewriting them to fit my new style. Let me know what you all think, do you prefer them as they are or would you want them to match my new style ? Anyways without further ado here's chapter 13, enjoy everyone! <3 

3rd person POV

Years have passed since that moment, time brought changes to the trio, what was once a childhood crush developed into a fierce love that neither of the pair wanted to acknowledge or admit in fear of loosing the other.

As you can imagine both Steve and Becca were ready to rip the heads off of their dumbass siblings.

6 years is a verrrry long time to put up with long looks of pining and repressed feelings, but unfortunately for the Brooklyn natives, y/n and bucky were about as stubborn as each other and refused to listen to the reasonable, sometimes frustrated, rants of their best friends. So much to the utter frustration of Steve and Becca, the two young lovebirds lived in a state of denial and attempted (the keyword being ATTEMPTED) to move on with their lives.

Naturally, someone as charming and handsome as James Barnes seemed to have a never-ending line of girls begging to be his, it had become a common occurrence for him to have a new girl on his arm each week, not that Steve or Y/n approved of his behaviour but hey Bucky can be a real big dumbass when he wants to be. Y/n did try to hide how much it bothered her, thankfully not only was Bucky a dumbass he was also completely unaware of her feelings and simply chalked it down to her being the unapproving sister, but to Steve it was a clear as day. He could see it in her face every time Bucky left to take the new girl dancing, or when she’d finish work early only to see Buck and his new girl on a romantic date in the Café opposite the dinner she worked at. The bright light behind her eyes always dimmed a little and she wouldn’t talk for hours, which for anyone that didn’t know her was enough to ring an ambulance and arrange a mental evaluation.

Now that’s not to say that Bucky was any better, the look of absolute utter rage that covered his face when another man called for Y/n was enough to make Steve and Becca completely loose it and simply laugh at his misery, neither of them felt bad because they’d been telling him for YEARS to man up and confess his feelings. Occasionally the pair did feel a slight twinge of guilt towards their brother, like the time the trio went to Y/n’s house to surprise her after work, only to see her kissing the cheek of a guy they’d never seen before, just like his other half Bucky did try to hide it, but the flash of pain that crossed his face was impossible to miss.

It’d gotten to the point where Steve wanted to lock em both in a closet til they finally admitted their feelings and put themselves out of their misery, though the fact that he had all the physical stats of a toothpick quickly nipped that idea in the bud.

Cut to today, for once it looked like it’d be a fairly normal day for everyone, boys were off doing god knows what, knowing those two it’d involve a punch up started by a small blonde idiot and finished by an even bigger idiot of a brunette. Though the same couldn’t be said about their girl, ever the more responsible one of them all Y/n had agreed to work overtime in the local dinner over on main street, meaning that she’d be the one closing the place down at 9pm.

Y/n didn’t even wanna think about what her two idiots would get up without proper adult supervision, though over the years she’d learned to expect that it would more than likely be something illegal.

Thankfully, it wasn’t something she had to worry about for the next couple of hours, though 9 times out of ten she’d be the one cleaning up the cuts and bruises only for them to come back the next day fresh wounds. As much as it did on occasion piss her off to no ends, Y/n wouldn’t want it any other way, they were and always will be her boys.

Y/N’s POV

Well, that was an absolute shit show of a day.

I mean you’d of thought that I was common knowledge not to put ya hands up a waitresses skirt, but nay some men didn’t seem to have got that memo, ever the public servant I made it my job to enlighten then with a hot cup of coffee to the crotch. How I’ve not received employee of the month is beyond me, what’s not to love ? I’m a fucking delight!

Thank god it’s home time, if I’da stayed in that place any longer something would of happened, knowing my crazy ass it’d of been something violent but in my defence….okay I don’t have a defence, but men can seriously suck ass when they wanna. All I wanna do is have a peaceful walk home, ignore the homeless guys that like to gawp at my ass and run a big old bubble bath whilst relaxing with a decent book.

Naturally, that didn’t happen.

Now, If ya spend as much time around a bunch of over aggressive monkeys that love jumping into fights as much as I do, you’ll probably get real good at recognising the sounds of a fight. And I’ve got a pretty good idea who the two dipshits are that started this pissing contest.

The sounds of shoes scuffling across the pavement were pretty much impossible to miss now, that along with the grunts and groans of a bunch of guys smacking the absolute shit outta each other tipped me off to what was happening around the corner. Everything in me screamed to carry on my merry way and let these morons sort out whatever beef they had in peace and believe me I was so close to ignoring it and walking past em, but it’s kinda hard to do that when ya hear ya best mate scream “come at me motherfuckers!”.

I couldn’t help the frustrated sigh that came outta my mouth but come on guys! This is the 5th one this week!

Very reluctantly I doubled back and went to help my idiotic boys out of whatever trouble they managed to get em selves into, and boy I’m glad that I did cause they were losing. Badly. It would seem that Steve’s request was met for them to “come at” him, cause one of em had him by the arms and was pummelling the life out of his small body, and Bucky wasn’t having any better luck either. Buck was in the same situation, but he had the pleasure of two guys restraining his arms whilst another two took turns in kicking him in the stomach, I mean I was already pissed off at what was happening to Steve but now,  I’m beyond pissed and IF I’d of taken the time to calm down for a few seconds I’da thought of a better plan than this.

“Man…I really liked these shoes”.

In my defence, I didn’t mean to throw them as hard as I did, I was hoping to distract them for a couple of seconds so I could get the jump on the guy beating the crap outta Steve, instead I hit him square in the back his head and knocked him the fuck out. Any other time I’da been wetting myself laughing, but instead it seemed like time slowed down as the assholes holding Steve up froze and made eye contact with me, even the guys on Bucky stopped to see what had happened, all four of em had a look of complete and utter disbelief when they finally saw me. Not that I really cared, all I wanted was for em to get the fuck off of my boys.

Nobody seemed to wanna say anything for the next couple of seconds, the assholes beating up Bucky and Steve were still trying to wrap their heads around what just happened, and my idiots were looking back and forth between the guy on the floor and me, not even taking the time to try escape their holds. How the hell they manage to survive all these years without me is beyond my understanding.

“Sup my dudes, my names Y/n and I’ll be kicking ya ass today”.

I think it’s safe to say that I snapped everyone out of their shocked states, cause the guys holding both Steve and Bucky dropped their asses to the ground and instead focus on me, which is pretty fair considering I did just knock their mate out with a 2-inch healed shoe.

“Do ya know what we do to girls that don’t know their place round here? Cause ya about to find out girly” why is it always the ugliest motherfuckers that try to act tough, I mean look at this guy! he’s got more stains on his shirt than he does teeth, and about as much hair as a furless cat, I’ve been more intimidated by a group of 12-year-old girls in the dinner than I have him!...teenagers are fucking scary don’t judge me.

Right back to this absolute shitshow of a ‘fight’.

Mr ‘I’m only 30 years old and I already need dentures’ swung his arm out towards me in a pathetic attempt at a punch, which massively backfired on him cause I threw that dumbass over my shoulder and ‘accidently’ knocked his last 4 teeth out.  That left me with the rest of the hounds, two of em were rushing at me the second I let go of their newly toothless friend, the one on my right missed me completely and fell over a fence, dumbass. The dude on my left though, well he didn’t miss I’ll put it that way, he fully rugby tackled me into the car behind me, knocking the wind outta me and leaving me dazed for a few seconds.

But just like the first guy, his ‘punches’ were about effective as a marshmallow. Pretty embarrassing for him really, I mean you hate to see it.

“Okay no, give me your hand I’m gonna teach you how to punch cause this is just embarrassing for you dude, first don’t put your thumb at the bottom cause ya gonna break it, second don’t just throw ya arm forward and hope it hurts, use your body weight cause ya got a lot of it and throw it into the punch.”

At that point I’d pushed him off me and the car, his form was absolutely terrible so I went ahead and corrected it for him, found out his name was Eric, which was pretty interesting, gave him a few practise shots and then let him hit me for real, and I must be a fucking amazing teacher cause that one hurt!

“Really Doll?”

Let me tell you, I’d never seen Bucky so unimpressed in my life, his face was completely deadpanned with only his eyebrows raised, Steve wasn’t too impressed either, his infamous mum glare was in full force as I sheepishly backed away from my new best friend.

“In my defence, you left me unsupervised, and Eric’s form was absolutely atrocious, wasn’t it Eric my lad ?”

“….She’s a pretty good teacher to be fair”.

“See? I’m a good teacher! Suck it Barnes!”

Bucky Knocked Eric the fuck out in response. I think you can all understand how heartbroken I was.

“What the hell Barnes?! If it weren’t for me you and Steve would be dead!” I’m pretty sure I looked as insane as I was acting, Steve was full on laughing his ass off behind Buck, I mean if I weren’t so annoyed by them both right now I’d be on the floor with him just dying of laughter. But nay, I had a bone to pick with the both of them, which I think they both realised considering they both went pale before turning around and bucking it to my house. What you need to remember is that these are fully gown men, running around a Brooklyn neighbourhood screaming bloody murder, with a much smaller y/h/c lass running right behind them brandishing a pair of heels, fully intending to murder them both.

How we’ve gone all these years without being arrested or locked in a mental asylum astounds me.

So hopefully you all enjoyed this, let me know what you all think, we’ve got about 2 more chapters left of my boys then we move onto Captain America the First Avenger!! 

lots of love

Rose xx

[jonroxton]

can you talk about chlark beyond chloe? personally i think it's weird that the writers kept adding kisses and weird romantic moments without any pay off. i don't know much about the fandom back then but i think the writers were baiting fans since clark/chloe seems to be the second most popular ship after clex. second i personally think chloe would never be happy with clark or anyone tbh and she doesn't seem like the type of person who would have kids so the finale was weird to me.

this got looooong :)

0. it WAS weird, and the choice to never not once go for it with them was to the story's detriment. I'll get into it a little later on in this post.

Re: shipping in sv fandom. there was definitely drama (clana was HUGE when the show was airing and every ship was basically derailed by it lol) but I stayed in my clois lane with a small circle of fandom friends much like I do now. a good measure of clois fans were fans of lois and clark from other mediums, come to sv just for lois and clark, myself included. we were pretty insulated as a fandom even back then. I do remember seeing more Chlark after the S5 finale (when Chloe kisses him goodbye), but those dropped off after Jimmy was introduced right away in S6. The most drama I encountered was with Chloisers: Chloe fans who believed wholeheartedly that Chloe was Lois. They hated SV!Lois and were convinced she would die so Chloe could take her name and job and place by Clark's side, thus a Chlark endgame. this was a popular theory amongst that fandom even into s9, when the clois ball started to roll for true.

bait and switch

a lot of Chlark is rooted in this notion that chloe WOULD be the best thing for Clark, the ideal Lois, the true best friend, the human hand guiding him through Earth's troubles. she would be could be the BEST possible lois archetype for Clark. it's not a wrong interpretation. she was specifically written as a lois-and-lana-proxy (teenage lana is a reporter in some AUs and even some as an adult as a tv correspondent) and she's given many lois-ish traits (tenacious, secretly crushing on clark and in denial), but this interpretation is deeply flawed. first, because lois does eventually enter into the picture and she has her own defining traits that, when compared to chloe, make chloe seem much shallower than realized. secondly, within the complete context of the story, her position in the greater narrative is not as ~the one who got away, the way it did very early on in S1-S4, but one who clark tolerates.

they're friends because clark is forgiving and chloe has staying power. their friendship is riddled with insecurities and unknowns the characters create for themselves. their dynamic is defined by conflict, not resolutions. this is not made easy by the fact that chloe is such a strangely written character, but ultimately she is positioned as a counter to clark achieving his happiness. not a thematic narrative foil but an obstacle clark eventually relents to.

2. and it has been so from the get-go

S1 is the best season for them and the single season which actually considers Clark's side in this dynamic. everything about them later on can be explained with how they are in this season. and that's the problem. when they're 14 it's nice teen angst drama and works perfectly to establish the dynamic. when they're 24 it's at best a pattern, at worst regression. we expect certain behaviors, dismiss them too, when it's children, at least I do. clark and chloe never move beyond the dynamic they establish in s1 and early s2. in essence, clark and chloe remain children around each other. they have many discussions in the later seasons that make at least one appear petulant.

so S1 clark has just been told the greatest secret of his existence and he imprints on lana hard that same night (right AFTER jonathan tells him, he meets lana at the graveyard and talks to her for the first time EVER, a lot of childhood imprinting going on in SV). all of s1 follows clark's heartache over lana, watching her from afar and figuring out a way to be near her. this pain is exacerbated by the fact that he believes he caused her her greatest grief: the death of her parents via the meteor shower which he arrived in.

here the first beat of the chlark dynamic is established: chloe's job and passion – the wall of weird and her pursuing the meteor infected oddities of SV - directly affects clark in a negative way (he's suicidal for much of s1-s3). so her crush on him is countered with her unknowingly causing him great grief. om top of that: clark becomes part of this passion of hers and she eventually begins to pursue him as a story to be uncovered, very superman yes. here tho, it causes nothing but strife for them and paints chloe in an awful light (and clark too, highlighting his refusal to open up). I personally enjoy this aspect of them in s1. bc they're so young I give em a free pass and it's a good conflict playing around with old superman tropes, but it makes for a fraught friendship.

3. the second beat

is that neither chloe's crush on clark, nor his asking her to stop pursuing his truth, do anything to stay her. her tenaciousness becomes intrusiveness and inconsideration (many of her accomplishments irt the daily planet are directly bc she betrays clark). she simply will not listen to her friend and does not believe his livelihood and autonomy is worth losing a story over. this is literally the opposite of comics/live action lois lane, who in various versions drops the clark reveal story to protect him. this passion turns vindictive pretty early for chloe, who eventually pursues stories about clark out of jealousy and entitlement (against lana also).

4. the third beat

is that clark doesn't ever see chloe as romantic prospect except this time in s1. the tornado trapping lana pulls him away from any solidifying of the clark/chloe dynamic, and that's that. but we know clark was willing to go for it in early s2 when he apologizes to chloe about running off on her. it's chloe who decides not to go on with the relationship. clark is visibly confused, but also 15 so he can't see that chloe is putting on a brave front to protect herself from clark running off again. I liked this too as it's another play on superman tropes, but my sympathy for them stops here.

5. and stays here

these beats are the entirety of this dynamic. everything about chlark can be distilled down to their childhood. it's why I don't hate them completely, bc I have a lot of love for kids who hurt in such a way and that time is never easy. in s8 (I think its s8) when we get a flashback to when they meet as kids (more imprinting!). little tenacious cute chloe kisses insecure clark bc of the funny awkward tension, acknowledging it, and then immediately takes it back because they're better as friends. (also they’re like 11 lol)

every single romantic moment with them is undercut either by chloe herself, or by the presence of other storylines/romances the writers wanted to pursue. the lack of integrity in chloe and the lack of interest in clark, regardless of how sincere their connection or how messed up, is a central part of their dynamic that needs to be reconciled with their friendship. and its exhausting bc there is never a point they are ever truly comfortable around each other.

6. to a fault

knowing the secret doesn't change chloe's methods. it doesn't make chloe clark's great confidante. if anything, it complicates matters for both because their relationship then becomes about the greater good and clark's great destiny. everything chloe does becomes about that, which in theory sounds awesome, but is executed much the same way as s1!chlark: by reiterating behaviors that highlight the negative aspects of that loyalty and the negative aspects of their characters.

the single time they do actively examine what this loyalty means and how chloe's hero complex complicates things for chlark is with s8 and davis. she protects davis with the skills of subterfuge and secrecy she developed as clark's friend. and it costs her jimmy and a lot of her personal integrity as a character. tho ironically it makes chloe the strongest she's been as a character. this is the first time clark is forced to view chloe as an enemy and he never quite recovers from discovering the dark depths she’s willing to go to. 

it's an arc dealing with the established beats: how far chloe is willing to go for a kryptonian (very far), how much she's willing to do for him (A LOT and all of it illegal), and what it costs her (jimmy). it deals with her jealousy (always second choice) and her motivations (uncovering the truth). this great want that she struggled with for years is turned on its head and examined, revealing just how weird and dark her hero complex is because obviously davis is not clark. davis/chloe served to highlight more than any other arc how it's really too bad that clark never saw her that way, because she has so much love to give and when channeled, it's a great force. only it's a great force for evil. clark has to confront that it’s not just lex but his other closest friend who is willing to go so far. they backtrack hard in s9 and s10 but they keep this underlying wariness in clark towards Chloe throughout. it’s not anything new, but it’s no longer subtext that clark doesn’t fully trust chloe.

7. And that's the rub

in the end. chloe and clark have many storylines they're in together and chloe's important.... to develop clark and as a counter to clark. clark never instigates anything, not once, for 9 years! when the show did give us Moments TM, clark is reacting, not actively making choices to connect to her. if anything, clark is incredibly awkward about chloe when they become intimate. he doesn't seem to know what to do with her crushing on him (the elevator scene is a great one to show just how awkward chloe makes him feel). more than that. clark never tells her his secret. and later on, chloe doesn't tell him half the crazy wild shit she does to protect him bc she knows he would disapprove. I still hold that the only reason they work is bc clark is a forgiving character and would give her chance after chance after chance. that's the watsonian explanation, but the doylist explanation is that the writers just never cared to explore them beyond this point.

8. and what was beyond that point?

they would've been a great counter to lexana in S6 and early clana (clark finally having a gf who knows). it’s playing the clark/Chloe as a straight lois/clark proxy before actually pursuing lois and clark. it could’ve been the precursor to davis and caused an even more personal conflict! the kiss at the end of s5 was their chance. they could've written chlark devolving much the same way lexana did in s6 (or not). but again. the writers never went that far and clearly never wanted to. it kept chlark forever in this stage of childhood friendship always on the brink of collapsing, tittering either way. it's also tough to speculate bc clark's just not into her. in fact he becomes more and more wary of her, to the point where he believes she can do horrible things, and he's right. the stories continually make their methods complete opposite.

they go out of their way to show chloe realizing how happy clark is with lois. and even play a joke on the fandom by literally turning her into lois and seeing the sparks between her friends. it's almost... cruel but it does serve to show how clark is when he's smitten and he's never looked at chloe that way except during the dance when they were kids. other unrequited dynamics have at least some spark from the desired, but nil from clark. clark is into chloe in late s1, but she shuts him down, and when he seems to be into her again (damn that s5 kiss was a good one lol), she shuts him down again. it's just a weird writing choice all around, and that they kept nuggets of it throughout the show is the thing I cringe at most whenever I rewatch.

9. bait and switch 2

with hindsight it is definitely ship baiting and that sucks for that dynamic bc without it their friendship would’ve been the stronger, or at least not full of so much negativity. all it did was remind everyone that chloe’s been duped since she was a kid and that clark is both stupid and strange for never noticing and letting her get away with shit just bc she’s the most loyal. I don’t ship them and even I get frustrated lol

[md-admissions]

2020 (The dumpster fire) in review

I’m BACK after a long, long year. I’m working on figuring out the evolution of this page/blog. It’s brought me a lot of joy over the years and I want it grow as I grow. What that means, I’m trying to sort out. 

But for now...let’s talk about THE year.

1 - What did you do in 2020 that you’d never done before?

Survive a pandemic, publish in JAMA, start teletherapy, enjoy dating, kiss someone while sober, I ALSO KINDA DATED SOMEONE, GUYS! Got broken up with, healing from the break up, started a twitter, took on leadership roles I’ve never taken on, took my ID Boards exam, gave job talks, interviewed for jobs remotely, bought a recording microphone, lost 50 pounds (intentionally!!). Started a master’s degree, QUIT the degree program.  2 - Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

I kept 5 out of 7 of my New Years resolutions!! So I’m absolutely making more.

3 - Did anyone close to you give birth?

Guys...nine people. Count ‘em. Nine people. All my close friends. Gave birth. Like...end me. 

4 - Did anyone close to you die?

No but I knew many who died. Or bore witness.

5 - What countries did you visit?

I narrowly avoided country-passed quarantines in January as I flew back from Asia. Won’t say what countries for now.

6 - What would you like to have in 2021 that you lacked in 2020?

More progress in radical honesty, vulnerability, healing traumas that have held me back from creating healthy boundaries. More time with friends, more art, more music. More time unafraid to love and be loved. 7 - What date from 2020 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

11/4/2020. Took my ID boards that day.

8 - What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Publishing in JAMA with a colleague I have the privilege to call a phenomenal friend and the best collaborator I’ve ever had. 

9 - What was your biggest failure?

Waiting so long to finally hear my inner voice tell me that master’s degree wasn’t where or who I was anymore 10 - Did you suffer illness or injury?

Minor things.  11 - What was the best thing you bought?

The lap desk I’m currently using. Or my noise cancelling headphones. 12 - Whose behavior merited celebration?

My ID division. We fucking came together during this horrible shit. I’ve never been prouder or felt closer to a group of colleagues. 13 - Whose behavior made you appalled or depressed?

Anti-maskers, most of the US government, the list is so long.

14 - Where did most of your money go?

Food and clothes. Clothes because I lost so much weight I needed new clothing

15 - What did you get really, really, really excited passionate about?

Excited feels like a strong word. I was passionate about many things. Passionate about BLM, PPE shortages, writing out my advanced directives. Mentoring during a pandemic, being a mentee during a pandemic.  16 - What song(s) will always remind you of 2020?

Betty Who: You’re In Love 17 - Compared to this time last year, are you: I. Happier or sadder?

Sadder, but I know it’s the only way to feel after such an awful year. And that it will take me to a happier me as I continue to work through it.  II. Thinner or fatter?

Thinner

III. Richer or poorer?

Richer.

18 - What do you wish you’d done more of?

Therapy 19 - What do you wish you’d done less of?

Think that I was alone and only I could solve my problems 20 - How will you be spending/spent christmas?

Christmas at home with some Chinese take-out and watching It’s a Wonderful Life

21 - Did you fall in love in 2020?

No but I learned to really like someone without becoming infatuated 22 - How many one-night stands?

Zero. 23 - What was your favorite tv program?

Next in Fashion, Legendary, Bridgerton, Giri/Haji, Castlevania

24 - Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

Uh hell yeah 25 - What was the best book you read?

This is How you Lose the Time War 26 - What was your greatest musical discovery?

This will sound odd but...re-discovering my own love for singing and music 27 - What did you want and get?

To publish meaningful research, to break internal emotional barriers, to stop using food to address feelings and actually ADDRESS them, to make true friends 28 - What was your favorite film of this year?

Gosh...I don’t remember any this year. Was kinda...drowning in work

29 - What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I turned 32 and I got donuts for the infection control and stewardship departments that I work in! I ordered fancy Thai take out. I slept in. 30 - What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

No pandemic. A girl can dream.

31 - How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2020?

LA pop/punk, but make it office 32 - What kept you sane?

The Ologies podcast. Intense talks with friends. 33 - Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

KEANU REEVES. ALWAYS. Especially this year. 

34 - What political/social issue stirred you the most?

Black Lives Matter.  35 - Who did you miss?

My best friend.  36 - Who was the best new person you met?

For all the pain I’m currently going through, a guy I met at work who I maybe-kinda-sorta-dated for 2 months. I made some wild breakthroughs and grew a lot from it, even though it didn’t end the way I wanted. I’m grateful for the me that’s growing and becoming through that experience.

37 - Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2020:

The best, most authentic people are vulnerable because it’s scary as fuck and necessary

[spiderman-homecomeme]

nuts about you

It’s simple. Thirty days. All of November. No nutting allowed. Can Peter survive? A friends/roommates to lovers tale of stupid bets, sabotage, and most important of all, nuts. 

thotumn. day 11. free prompt day finale.

Thank you @spideysmjs​ for organizing this magical month for us!! Because I am TOO impatient, I’m posting this a day early (also to keep my tradition of not posting things at the right time). Enjoy this purely goofy adventure. 

--

Of all of the stupid ideas Peter and Ned have thought of in their ten-plus years of friendship, this one’s up there. 

Easily in the top three. 

No, it’s more than stupid. It’s ridiculous. It’s pointless. No one in their right mind actually thinks this is a good idea or that there’s any reason to do it. It’s an internet joke that’s too old, a meme that has no right being funny anymore. It’s run its course, and the guise of it raising awareness for anything other than the masturbation habits of penis-havers is complete and utter bullshit.

Again. It’s stupid.

Still, Peter Parker is not one to turn down a challenge, no matter how stupid. He’s nothing if not competitive. What can he say? If he won’t do it, who will?

This is what he considers as Ned lays it on the table for him.

All of November. Thirty days. 

Peter doesn’t know how the conversation even started or how they ended up betting against each other in the world’s most moronic challenge. All he knows is that Ned is more than convinced that Peter is weak and won’t last. In fact, he’s so convinced that he’s willing to bet money on it. His reasoning ends up being that Peter isn’t strong enough.

And Peter? Well, he’s convinced that he will make it, that he can survive an entire month without giving in to his desires to bust a nut, to beat his meat, etc. etc. And he, too, is willing to bet money—a stupid amount, maybe more than a hundred—on his own success and his friend’s failure. He doesn’t want to appear too cocky, but he’s more than a hundred percent sure he’s got this in the bag. Yeah, it’s thirty days of cutting out one of Peter’s favorite pastimes—if not the favorite—but there’s no doubt in his mind that he’s more than capable of practicing a little restraint. 

Still, confident as he is, there’s still that part of him that can’t help but dread the coming month the more and more he thinks about it. 

“So, definitely thirty days?” Peter asks, eyes narrowing in thought. He tries to appear casual, as if the idea of no release for that amount of time isn’t a big deal. It’s more for clarification. “November has thirty days?”

Ned scoffs. “Yeah. Thirty days.”

“Any strikes? Any free coupons?”

“Nope.” Ned shakes his head with a soul-crushing finality. “Why? You don’t think you can make it?” 

It’s Peter’s turn to scoff, face scrunching dramatically as he recoils. “What? No. I’m worried about you, man. What are you gonna do about Betty?” 

Ned fixes him with a deadpan stare, clearly not buying whatever bullshit Peter’s trying to peddle. “A bet is a bet. She will respect that.”

“How can I trust you, though?” Peter asks, eyes narrowing in slight accusation. “You’re always at her place. I mean, how’ll I know you’re not lying?”

Ned glares. “How can I trust you?”

Peter sputters, desperately thinking of ways to throw a reverse Uno at this situation. “Wha—I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m—I’m single, man.”

Ned blinks. Once. Twice. “Do we need to talk about Felicia?”

“That was—”

“Cindy?”

“Dude—”

“Johnny? Jessica? Gwen—”

“I get it. I get it—”

“Carlie? Oh—Debbie? Caleb! Then there was Angela—”

Peter’s expression contorts into one of confusion. “Angela?” He tilts his head, squinting, searching for any kind of memory. 

“Cute red head. You met her in line at Aldi.”

“Ahhh…” A knowing, borderline too-telling smile of recognition pulls at Peter’s lips. “Angela...” he sighs, almost dreamily. Okay, so maybe Ned has a point. But just because Peter enjoys the company of other people so much that he’s got his own version of Mambo No. 5, doesn’t mean he’s incapable of living without the warm touch of another human being or his hand. 

Peter freezes, glancing at his friend. “Okay. Well. What do you want me to do about that? It’s not like I’m gonna call any of them up or anything. I have some sense of self-control.”

Again, Ned blinks. 

“And besides, Felicia was freshman year… she’s our friend now. I don’t hook-up with her anymore.”

Another blink. “Dude.”

“Fine.” Peter huffs, whipping his phone out, eyes nearly rolling out of their sockets and onto the floor as he starts swiping through his contacts. “But I’m not deleting any of ‘em, okay?” 

“Peter…” 

“I’ll change their names! How ‘bout that?” 

A beat passes of silent, overtly-judgmental staring on Ned’s part. He huffs after another second, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Fine.” Then, his frown shifts into a nonchalant smirk. “Whatever makes it easier for you to lose and me to win.” 

“Please,” Peter scoffs. “I’m not the one with a girlfriend. You’re going down.” He tilts his head, narrowing his eyes, lips pursed in mock-contemplation as he points a finger. “Or I guess… Betty’s the one going down.”

Ned nearly chokes on his water holding back a snort. “Come on, man.”

Peter shrugs. 

“Okay, well, are you gonna change the contact name for your right hand, too?”

It’s Peter’s turn to spit out a laugh. 

But before he can even come up with another totally awesome comeback, he hears the jingling of keys, the clanking of locks as their roommate comes home after a long day of classes. All he sees is a flash of her curly hair before he’s tearing his gaze away from the front door, suddenly finding the pads of his thumbs to be pretty damn interesting. 

“Hey, MJ,” Ned greets casually, as if they weren’t just sorting out a bet where neither of them are allowed to orgasm for an entire month. 

“‘Sup.” Michelle flashes them a brief, closed-mouth grin as she makes for the refrigerator, swiping up some baby carrots and the brita filter. 

Really, the conversation from earlier should be done there. Nothing else needs to be said. Especially not in front of their roommate. 

But Peter can’t help himself. 

“Let’s shake on it,” he says, putting his hand out, knowing that the more he keeps talking, the more danger he’s in of saying too much. 

Ned takes it readily, eyes narrowed in determination. “Let’s.”

The corner of Peter’s lip twitches upward, but he holds it back. “No… Peanuts.”

“No walnuts.”

They have that understanding, speaking in the code that the two of them have just made up on the spot, something that Peter can’t help but feel pretty damn proud of. 

MJ glances between the two, carrot half-way to her mouth, frozen in place, brows pinched in suspicion. 

“Peter and I are giving up all nuts for the next month,” Ned says proudly, answering the question that she most certainly did not ask. 

“Cool.”

Ned throws a not-as-subtle-as-he-thinks-it-is wink across the table, giving a just as subtle thumbs up from behind one of his stray history books. 

Peter nods. 

“Why?” Michelle asks, her question—one that shouldn’t have been as much of a surprise at is was—causing them both to exchange wary glances. 

There’s a silence that follows, one that might clearly show that these two guys have no idea what kind of hole they’ve dug themselves into. Ned watches Peter expectantly. Peter glares back. 

“Is it like a health thing?” MJ offers, popping another carrot into her mouth.

Peter nods a little too quickly. “Yeah. Health stuff.” His stomach flips when her gaze meets his, her eyes squinting as she chews thoughtfully. 

“May thinks Peter might have a nut allergy,” Ned hastily spits out. When both sets of eyes land on him, he laughs. “So his allergist suggested going a month without ‘em. To see if that makes it better.”

And honestly, Peter thinks that’s a pretty damn good save. 

The best part is that MJ seems to buy it. She nods. “So why are you doing it, Ned?”

“Solidarity,” Ned offers quickly. 

Nice save. 

“Ah,” MJ purses her lips, though she still doesn’t seem to care all that much. “Well, good luck. I guess. I know how much you guys… love… nuts? I guess?”

Peter nods solemnly. 

When she turns back to grab a cup from the cabinet, he throws Ned a quick single nod.

Well played.

--

“So, Peter’s doing no nut November.”

Felicia nearly chokes, snorting as she struggles to keep her vanilla latte in her mouth. “What?” She asks after a dangerous second. They were supposed to be having a nice study sesh, reading about Bloom’s taxonomy, not talking about Peter’s nut habits. 

“He and Ned made a stupid bet to see who could last the whole month,” MJ answers, taking a quiet sip of her London Fog. “Apparently they bet a lot of money on it.”

Felicia’s face scrunches in amused confusion. “Why?”

“Do they really need a reason to do dumb shit?” 

Considering that for a second, Felicia nods with a satisfied frown. “Fair.”

“I bet against Peter, though,” MJ continues. “After he left, I made Ned let me in on it. There’s no way Pete can last the whole month, right? Not even a week.”

“Oh, definitely not,” Felicia vehemently shook her head. “I honestly feel like he’d spontaneously combust after, like, a day.” Then, she lets out a quiet snort. “Combust a nut.”

Michelle wrinkles her nose. “Ew.”

“But for real. He’s not gonna make it.”

“That’s what I said. Ned seems to have some faith in him though—no idea why. I told him that Peter wouldn’t even last a week… and now I guess I’m involved.”

“This would be so easy to sabotage though.”

“Right?” 

“Seriously,” Felicia snorts. “All I’d have to do is hit him up one more time and he’s gone.” And then, in that next instant, her face lights up like a Christmas tree. “That’s it!” Before she says anything else, she’s pulling her phone out, quickly scrolling through, looking for God knows what. “Girl, I am gonna win that bet for you.” 

MJ leans forward, curious, yet still cautious. She’s not sure if Peter hooking up again with Felicia is the best idea, given that relations within the friend group would just make things a giant, tangled up mess of complicated awkwardness. “How?” Michelle dares to ask, craning her neck to see what the hell Felicia’s doing on her phone. 

Her friend is quiet for a moment, locked in concentration on her screen, bottom lip tucked between her teeth, brows knit together. Then, she cracks a satisfied, sly smile, turning her phone to show MJ just what she was looking for. 

Simply; a picture of Felicia’s relatively new tattoo which, in and of itself, doesn’t seem like it would get Peter’s peter going. It’s pretty. Floral. Nothing to lose one’s mind over. 

No, it’s more the placement. 

It’s a tasteful shot, the simple flowers lining the underside of her breasts, her hands acting as makeshift pasties, just barely covering her nipples. 

Still, though there’s no actual nudity, it’s enough to make MJ’s eyes bug out of her head for a moment before she’s realizing what she’s looking at. 

“Okay. So?” Michelle waits for an explanation. 

“I send him this,” Felicia says simply, pulling her phone back and (seemingly) drafting up the very message. “Ask if he wants a closer look at it.” 

Michelle considers it a moment, knowing that there’s a very strong chance that Peter could almost immediately fall into such an obvious trap. The corners of her lips twitch into a casual frown. She shrugs. “Honestly. Yeah. That might work.” 

“Might?” Felicia almost scoffs. 

“You’re a genius.”

A smirk tugs at Felicia’s mouth as she leans back in her chair, swiping up to send the message before putting the phone down on the table. “I know.”

They sit in silence, the two of them watching the screen with bated breath. They both gasp when the read receipt pops up, followed by a dead silence. MJ can only imagine how stressed that boy must be, opening his phone, thinking it’s an innocent text from Felicia, then BAM, he’s vibe-checked by her boobs instead. 

She holds back a snort, her stomach jumping into her throat seeing the dot-dot-dot pop up at the bottom of the screen. It’s almost as if she forgets to breathe, waiting to see what he’s going to say to such a blatant come on. 

It’s like he’s typing a damn novel with how long it’s taking him though, and Michelle’s not sure she can take it much longer. 

And then, her phone dings. 

Felicia’s lips pull into a frown reading the message. “‘Wow. Looks cool! No thanks, though.’ Aaaaand,” she spins her phone for MJ to read it. “Thumbs-up emoji. Smiley face with sunglasses.”

Even MJ’s surprised at that response. Maybe Peter is really taking this No Nut November thing seriously. Maybe he’s not as weak as she thought. But… it doesn’t make any sense. Nothing’s adding up. 

And with this confusion, there’s a sense of relief, knowing his response. Waiting wasn’t fun. 

“Huh.” Felicia sighs, biting her lip in thought as she starts typing out another message and sending it. 

“What did you say?” Michelle asks. 

“I told him I’d been thinking about getting my nipples pierced and wanted to know what he thought.” 

At that, Michelle snorts. “You’re an evil woman.” 

Felicia shrugs innocently. “I think he’d really like ‘em.”

Truly, it’s a genius move. It’s something that Peter has to address; Felicia’s nipples. The idea of them being pierced. It’s too much for his brain to handle. 

And again, just like before, they get into a staring contest with the conversation, watching as the read receipt pops up again, immediately followed by the ever-cruel ellipses as Peter no doubt struggles with a response that’s not too-eager. 

But then, he completely throws them for another loop. 

“‘I support you, friend!’ with…” Her eyes narrow. “A smiley face.” 

“Wow,” Michelle says, genuinely surprised. 

And Felicia seems just as shocked, if not a little offended that one of her oldest tricks in the book seem to have no effect whatsoever. “Did he just… friendzone me?” She asks, absolutely appalled.

“You were already friends before?” Michelle laughs. 

“But in this context?” She huffs, shaking her head. A beat passes where all she does is stare at her phone. “That’s weird,” she says slowly, lips quirking into a confused frown. “Huh.” 

“There, there,” Michelle deadpans, patting her friend stiffly on the hand. 

Felicia laughs. “It’s fine…” She draws out. “A hit to the ego is good for me every once in a while.”

“Oh my God,” MJ rolls her eyes. “You’re still hot. Don’t worry.” 

With a sad, a little over-dramatic nod, Felicia’s frown deepens as she pretends to wipe at her eyes. “Yeah. I am.” 

“I can’t believe that didn’t work,” MJ muses. Really, she can’t. Peter’s perhaps the easiest person she knows—and there’s nothing wrong with that at all; it’s just a fact of life. The sky is blue. Grass is green. Peter is a thot.

“I guess he’s really following through with this whole no nut thing…” Felicia’s brow furrows as she recoils. “How much money did he bet anyway?”

“A hundred.” 

“Oh my God.”

“Yeah.” 

“How much did you put in?” 

“...A hundred.”

“MJ!”

“Listen!” Michelle reasons, holding her hands up in defense. “This is gonna be the easiest two hundred dollars I’ve ever made.”

Felicia sits back, clearly impressed. “Does Peter know you’re in on it?”

“Nope,” MJ says, emphasizing the ‘p’ with an audible pop. 

“Well—” Felicia starts, shifting in her seat, crossing one leg over the other. “—I’m sure you’ll find some way to make that boy give in. Sorry I couldn’t help.”

Michelle lets out a light snort. “It’s okay. You tried.” 

“If I think of anything else, I’ll let you know.”

But honestly, MJ already has a vague idea of what her next step is. 

And it brings her to his bedroom, to his desk, messing with his laptop while he’s out for his Sunday patrol. His password is entirely too easy to guess—really, you’d think a guy as smart as Peter would have something a little more complicated than “webshooter69.” 

If there’s anything she knows about Peter—maybe a little too much about her friend—is that while he mostly enjoys the company of a flesh and blood human being, he’s not above the occasional perusing of adult websites. 

The guy likes porn. 

The plan is to make his chrome homepage one of his regular sites. Confront him with the images that really get him going. 

She browses through his history, hoping that he hadn’t thought to delete everything or go incognito. And… luckily for her, that particular idea seemed to have slipped his mind entirely. Literally not even a week out and she’s found a slightly-more-than-nefarious-looking website. 

Easy enough. 

And it’s exactly what she’s looking for. Nudity galore. There doesn’t seem to be a corner of the site that doesn’t have a boob or a butt. It is truly Peter’s domain.

For a moment, she wonders if she should make the homepage specifically something he searches for… his favorite genre perhaps. 

She shakes the thought away immediately. It’s too invasive. Besides, the front page should be more than enough—there’s literally a video that frustratingly autoplays every time she goes back to that one page. And why would she need to know what Peter likes? There’s no reason for that. At all. 

Making sure to close out of everything before logging out, she slams the laptop shut, sprinting out of his room as if he was just about to get home. Her heart races as she slams her own bedroom door behind her, catching her breath proving to be more difficult than usual. 

And now, she waits. 

It turns out, she doesn’t have to wait very long. 

That evening, in fact, after Peter’s come back for dinner. 

He takes his time microwaving his leftovers from the day before, whistling to himself as he bounces around the kitchen. The whole time it feels like MJ’s just holding her breath, anticipating his early demise the instant he opens up chrome on his laptop. And honestly, this does feel like a low blow, like she’s just snatching up that low-hanging fruit—God, MJ, phrasing—but then she’s reminded that this, again, is the easiest two hundred dollars she will ever earn. 

And then she feels a little less bad about what she’s done. 

The second he’s finished with his food and disappears into his room, her eyes are on his door, and then it occurs to her that there’s not really a way that she can know he’s, well, “lost.” It’s all based on his own honor, if he’ll admit to succumbing to his most basic need. She likes to think that he would, though. Peter’s too much of a good, honest guy—hiding his secret identity aside—that he couldn’t lie to his friends about it. 

Ned comes home not two minutes later, deflating on the other side of the couch. 

“Rough day?” MJ asks, the teasing hint to her tone not going unnoticed. 

Ned rolls his eyes. “Told Betty I was doing this whole month thing.”

MJ winced. “Yikes.”

“Yeah,” Ned chuckles. 

“Well, if it helps, this whole thing is probably gonna end in—” she checks her phone. “—five or so minutes.”

Ned’s gaze darts right and left. “What… What do you mean?” 

Before she can answer, Peter yelps from the other side of his door. There’s a loud crash that sounds suspiciously like a laptop being yeeted across the room in a hasty, knee-jerk reaction. Before either she or Ned can move, Peter’s bursting through his door, eyes blown wide, his face drained of all color, and he’s frozen in place, one hand gripping the doorframe. 

And it takes everything in her not to grin. “Everything okay?”

Peter coughs, scratching the back of his neck, before his gaze lands on Ned in a challenging glare. “DUDE. Not cool.”

Poor Ned looks as confused as ever, his jaw dropping, brows pinching together as he glances between the two. “I—What—what are you talking about?”

Peter narrows his eyes even more. 

“Did I hear something break?” MJ asks carefully, as not to seem too suspicious. 

He startles at her voice, sputtering out a response that mostly sounds like the macaroni glue art of sentences. “Oh—uh—no. It—It was the—the laptop. There was—a thing. And—I just kinda—threw it.” He laughs nervously. “It’s fine though. Not—not broken. All good—” He throws some finger guns. “—in the hood.”

Her lips twist as she nods. 

Peter nods back, hands in his back pockets as he starts to retreat back into his room—though not before throwing another I’m watching you glare at Ned. 

As soon as the door clicks shut, Ned’s in full interrogation mode. 

“MJ, what did you do?”

She shrugs, toying with the loose thread of her hoodie. “Nothing much. Just… Set his default homepage to some porn. No biggie.”

Ned’s jaw drops, thoroughly scandalized, but there’s a hint of amusement behind his eyes. “Dude… That’s evil.”

Michelle gives another shrug. 

So, her second plan had failed. Even after surprise-porn, Peter’s still in the running. He’s still holding out. Almost a two days into November, and he is surviving, a surprise to everyone involved, and already, MJ’s running out of ideas. Well, good—plausible ideas. There are plenty of ways she’s sure she could compromise him. Take him to a strip-club maybe, but there’s not a doubt in her mind that he’d be able to pick up on what she was doing. There’s no way he’d fall for it. 

Hiring an escort was definitely out of the question. 

Theoretically, both of those could work. Were they good plans? No. Absolutely not. 

He’s already turned down a previous hook-up. He broke his laptop out of the sheer panic that seeing porn brought him. 

There doesn’t seem to be much more that she can do. 

It’s not until the next day, as she’s walking the clothing section of Target with Felicia that she’s struck with an idea. 

Felicia specifically striking her with said idea. 

They’re in the middle of the sleepwear section, MJ mindlessly rifling through the fuzzy sock bin, when she nearly collides with the underwear display. She’s distracted for a moment, wondering if it’s too soon since she’s bought new underwear to justify taking advantage of the sale, when Felicia nudges her with her elbow. 

“Peter’s really into pretty underwear,” she says as if they’re not in the middle of Target. As if there’s not a mom and two kids in the actual pajama section two displays over. 

Michelle recoils slightly, startled. “What?” 

“He’s like, really into it,” she says, taking a casual sip of her iced coffee, reaching over to pick up a particularly lacy number. “Just saying. Might be useful.”

For some reason, MJ feels a strange heat rise to her cheeks. “I’m not gonna put these on for him!”

Felicia smirks, holding a hand up in defense. “Who said anything about you wearing it? You can just… leave it lying around for him to find, or something.” She tilts her head to the side, both brows raising. “Jeez, MJ.”

“Oh…” Michelle says, though her face still burns. “Right.” 

It’s not a bad idea. In fact, it’s pretty good. If Peter’s as into fancy underwear as Felicia says he is, then maybe leaving them around like some kind of weird scavenger hunt is the best plan. She doesn’t buy much, picking a pair of relatively cheap lace and polyester. She could use her own underwear for this, but… that would be weird right?

(As if this isn’t weird enough already.)

And besides, the ones she’s buying are a little more extra in that department. They aren’t meant to be worn for long, not from comfort. 

They’re perfect. 

She feels like some kind of underwear fairy, planting them somewhere in the apartment, making sure they’re hidden, yet visible in a place that Peter frequents; it sticks up between the couch cushions, not subtle in the slightest. The second Peter’s butt hits that couch, he’ll see them. There’s no other way around it. 

It becomes another waiting game as she sits in the living chair, knees curled into her chest as she pretends to read quietly. It’s pretend because she can’t focus long enough on any single letter to let her brain absorb anything on the pages. Finally, the front door opens. Peter greets her with a cheery smile, making immediately for the kitchen. 

Good. Yes. He gets his after class snack. Important. 

Just as she’d planned. 

He emerges not two minutes later, bag of cheese crackers in hand as he launches himself over the back of the couch. “‘Sup?” he asks after shoving a mouthful of Cheez-its into his face. 

Michelle wrinkles her nose, her eyes unconsciously darting between the guy on the couch and the panties peeking out from the cushions. “Reading,” she offers, brandishing the very unread book.

Peter nods, tearing his gaze from hers after a beat and reaching for the remote. When he sits back, his hand brushes the cheap lace and he pauses, curious as he looks down to see what he touched. 

All of this while MJ desperately pretends not to notice. 

When he picks the pair up though, his brows pinch together, at first unsure as to what he’s actually looking at. “Uh…” 

At that, MJ looks up, seeing right as the realization sets in. 

Of course, she plays dumb—by staying silent. 

Peter quickly looks to her, eyes wide as if he’s seen a ghost. “It’s—it’s not—these aren’t—” His lips press together as he forces a breath through his nose. “I—Oh god—”

And then, for a split-second, she feels the slightest bit guilty. Is this actually a good plan or is she just tricking him into getting a boner over cheap department store undies? That, and is she technically lying to him by not claiming the offending undergarments? By making him freak out over nothing?

He seems to be having some sort of existential crisis, wondering if these really are from some recent hook-up and the psychological effect of not nutting in three days has caused him to forget. 

This was a terrible idea.

She has to put him out of his misery. 

“Oh, shit. Those—” Her laugh is breathy, short. “—Those are mine.” 

And instantly, Peter drops the thong, as if his hands had been burned. “Oh!” he coughs, his gaze straining as if he’s trying to keep his eyes on her face. “S—Sorry.” He swallows.

“Yeah.” Rising on legs that are shaky—from sitting so oddly in the chair for so long—she goes to snatch up the baby pink lace, clutching it behind her back before Peter can get another look. “Sorry. Must’ve forgot. Uh, when I did… Laundry.”

Peter nods, breathing out a chuckle. “Yeah. Yeah. S’fine.” He waves her off, scratching the back of his neck. 

But even after that, Peter still seems off. For some reason, he still doesn’t seem to be able to look at her for more than a split-second. He doesn’t say anything else, sitting in silence, his cheese crackers long forgotten on the coffee table. 

Michelle wonders if she should say something else. Break the tension. It’s awkward, obviously, because he feels weird about touching his friend’s underwear. Anyone would, really. He touched something that theoretically would be on her body; something that normally, he thinks is really sexy, or whatever. 

After another minute of some good old soul-crushing silence, Peter stands, excusing himself to his room without another word. 

Huh. Weird.

--

It’s the movie night that finally gives her that clarity she’s been looking for; that moment where everything clicks into place, and she can finally see how she’s going to win this. 

Ned’s out with Betty, leaving her and Peter alone not for the first time. 

She and Peter are sitting on the couch together, her head resting on his shoulder—because that’s what friends do, obviously—the two of them sharing a gray fuzzy blanket. This is a normal occurrence. They’re close enough in their friendship that some occasional cuddling isn’t too weird. Especially given how chilly it’s been lately. And, it’s comfy. Just some nice head-to-shoulder contact. 

But later in the movie, when MJ starts to get dangerously sleepy, feeling herself drooping further and further, unable to completely pull herself back to reality. Things are fuzzy, almost dreamlike, as she just pulls herself up from his shoulder, giving up entirely on watching the movie and just grumpily laying down right on his lap, his thigh her make-shift pillow.

This isn’t weird. 

It’s normal.

She’s sleepy.

And Peter’s a surprisingly comfy pillow.

Peter doesn’t even have time to ask what she’s doing before she’s just nestling further into his lap. She misses the pure dread and panic that flashes across his face when her head lines up with his head. There’s no safety here. Just a few wrong movements, and she’ll definitely know what’s up. She’ll be an unwitting tourist to Boner City, population: one. 

Peter has to do something. He can’t let this continue. Having his best friends head just straight up on his crotch is not helpful in the slightest. 

“MJ,” he gently nudges her, grimacing slightly when she just burrows further into him. 

He nudges her again, and she grumbles, finally opening her eyes and looking up at him. She puts a hand on his thigh to steady herself. 

Peter swallows. 

“What?” She asks, not opening her eyes.

“I uh—” Peter can’t seem to speak, trying desperately to come up with some excuse as to why he has to get the fuck out of there. “—I gotta pee.”

She cracks an eye open skeptically. “But I’m comfy,” she emphasizes her point by—once again—snuggling her face into his lap. 

Peter’s about to lose his damn mind. 

In MJ’s defense, this had started with the best intentions. She truly was just wanting to lay down and sleep on her friends lap—again, a perfectly normal thing—but now… even through the haze of sleep, she’s seeing how much this is effecting him. 

It hadn’t occurred to her until now, that she could be the one that makes him “crack.” They’re just friends. Sure, she thinks he’s attractive, and yeah, maybe she’s had the one or two or three sexy dreams about him before (even some soft, fluffy ones), but that doesn’t mean she thinks about him in that way. 

He's just Peter.

Sweet, adorable, kinda hot Peter.

Again, she doesn't think about him that way.

But she supposes it makes sense. Really, she should have known before putting her head on his crotch that he might get a little flustered from the proximity, that it might remind him of certain things. It's just the body's physiological reaction to a stimulus; the stimulus being her head. It's simple science.

So then, it would also only make sense for her to take advantage of that physiological response she's able to get out of him. Maybe not right at this second, given she's been a little blindsided by this whole thing. But maybe now she can rethink her gameplan. Now she has access to tools she didn't know she had access to before.

Her own sensuality.

She can certainly use that.

And it's not as if she'll do anything too out there. Just... make him feel the heat—the pressure—just a little bit. Make him sweat.

Felicia's of course delighted by this development, giving her full support in "seducing Parker into busting a nut."

(Her words, not MJ's.)

She'd also said something about how it's about time, but that'd been promptly ignored—mainly because MJ didn't know what the hell Felicia was talking about.

The problem is now, though, Michelle's not exactly sure where to start. After Peter had made a dead sprint to the bathroom the night before, he's been a little more, shall we say, cautious, around her. He bounces on his feet, trying desperately to appear casual, acting as if nothing was weird about their movie night.

She only has three days left in the week, so she has to think.

And fast.

--

Peter's not sure if MJ's up to something, but he can't help but feel as though she's acting... strange. First, the underwear thing, which made him feel all kinds of flustered and weird, and then her head being dangerously close to his dick. It's a lot. She can't possibly know about this No Nut thing, right? She wasn't there, and Ned wouldn't have told her... right?

Still, he tries to avoid her as much as he can, ready to fly away the second she's in the same room as him.

Truthfully, he's always had maybe the tiniest crush on his best friend. It's faded in and out over the years, especially in their college years. But it's always been there, even if just the ghost of one. And now, he's starting to see maybe how bad of an idea this was in the first place—No Nut November. His roommate is literally probably the prettiest person in the world and he's being constantly reminded of the one thing he definitely should not be thinking about under any circumstances if he wants to win. It's a disaster that should have never happened in the first place. This could have been prevented, he thinks.

He's not sure how he didn't think about that when he'd agreed to do this.

He just knows that he has to do something, though he's not sure what.

But any and all ideas of how to protect himself instantly leave his mind, crashing his brain, when he comes back to the apartment the next day to find it sweltering. He looks at the thermostat, thoroughly confused to find the heater set to eighty. He peels off his jacket, recoiling when the humid air sticks to his skin. It's hot. Too hot. Even for early November. It's not that cold outside.

He's about to call out for his roommates when MJ emerges from her room, and he feels like he has to pick his jaw up from the floor.

Her shorts are too short for it being fall. They show too much of her legs for his eyes to not be immediately drawn to them. Her white tank top is tight against her skin, hugging her form in a way that almost makes him jealous. And then, it's almost too much, too dangerous, when he can very clearly tell that she's apparently decided to forgo a bra for the evening.

"Oh, hey Pete!" She says, as if she's not looking like that.

"Hey—hey. Em..." He clears his throat.

Dear God. It's been less than a week. Hold it together.

"Is it..." Peter swallows. "Is it hot in here? The—the heat? Is it—is it on?"

MJ's eyes widen a fraction.

"Oh, yeah. It is," she replies casually. "Is that okay? I was just a little cold."

"So you turn it up to—" Peter stops, craning his neck to look at the thermostat on the wall. "—eighty-two?"

She glances left and right, as if there's nothing wrong with that temperature whatsoever. "Yeah," she says with a nonchalant shrug, her lips tugging into a frown. After a beat, she lets out a faint snort, apparently finding something particularly funny, before turning to the fridge. She opens the freezer, sighing as the cool air hits her face.

Peter doesn't realize he's staring as she reaches in, pulling out a box from the top shelf. When he sees what's in the box, he knows that his doom is near. It's bright, colorful. It's popsicles. He has to leave immediately if he knows what's good for him, if he has any sense of sanity left. She grabs a crinkling wrapper from inside the box, casually whipping it out. She holds one out to him.

"Want one?" She offers.

Peter can only shake his head, swallowing a near-silent, voice-cracking, "Nope."

And it's at this point, as she shuts the freezer door, as she starts peeling the wrapper off the way-too-phallic popsicle, that he knows he should run. It's not safe here.

But he's frozen in place, trying to burn his gaze into the intricacies of the granite countertops, tapping his fingers in an erratic rhythm.

He's an idiot, for sure, because he looks up at exactly the wrong time, right as she wraps her lips around the tip of the pop, her eyes meeting his for a fraction of a second.

How can it only be eighty-two in here? 

Thankfully, he gains some sense, tearing himself away from the counter and going over to actually turn down the thermostat. "Is it okay if I—" He coughs. "—Turn this back down?"

"Sure." MJ doesn't stop him. She wets her lips, hiding her satisfied smirk by taking the popsicle deeper into her mouth.

But again, he makes the fatal mistake of looking at her again, because now... well, now she's just messing with him. She has to be.

No one eats a popsicle like that.

When he thinks it can't get worse, she has the fucking audacity to hum as she pushes it further into her mouth. "This is so good," she says, half-way a moan.

Who actually says that about a fucking popsicle?

It's evil, truly it is, because it makes him imagine her swirling her tongue around it inside her mouth, and suddenly, the tightness in his pants gets even more uncomfortable.

He hurries to somewhere else in the kitchen, pouring himself a nice glass of water. It's still too hot in here. MJ sidesteps him easily, still inappropriately eating—sucking off—her popsicle. And he nearly chokes, because as his eyes meet hers again, she takes the damn thing out of her mouth—he thinks he's safe, but oh no—she slips her tongue out, licking a long stripe up the base, swirling it around the tip before taking it into her mouth again.

"What?" She asks—she fucking asks—when he can't look away.

And unsurprisingly, Peter can't speak. Can't even get a single syllable out.

"Is my tongue red?" She asks, sticking said tongue out that was just seconds before all over the popsicle.

"I'm gonna go hop in the shower," Peter spits out, dropping his water in the sink and making a mad dash to the bathroom, not waiting for a response.

A shower is what he needs right now.

A nice, cold shower.

He needs to take a deep breath. Think of not sexy things. Things that don't make his life out to be a bad porno.

Then, he needs to leave. Hide in the forest. Live among the trees, away from temptation, until November is over. Only then can he be at peace.

That's it!

Trees. Nature. Forests. Cold. Snow. MJ in the snow. Kissing MJ in the snow—NO.

NO.

He slams the bathroom door, leaning back against it. He heaves out a shaky sigh, running a hand over his face in frustration. How he can possibly survive the rest of the month, he has no idea.

MJ has to be messing with him, right? There’s absolutely no way in hell she’s not doing this on purpose. And why? Why is she torturing him like this? What has Peter ever done in his life to deserve this torment? It isn’t fair. 

No matter how desperately he wants to take care of the not-so-little problem in his jeans, he holds himself back, clenching every muscle in his body as he switches on a very cold shower. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to will the image of Michelle—his best friend and roommate—eating a popsicle out of his mind. It has absolutely no right to be there. 

And still, as Peter stands under the stream of freezing water, letting it run down his back and front as he holds himself up with one hand, he can’t help but think that the worst is yet to come. That somehow, someway, MJ would top simulating a blow job on an ice pop. He doesn’t know how she’d do it, but he knows it’s coming. 

He must be ready. 

--

Not to MJ’s surprise, Peter avoids her the rest of the day. He keeps his head down, not daring to even glance up at her as he walks past. Weirdly enough, this is a good sign. It confirms her hypothesis that her actions can have some sort of an effect on him. It helps her to know what to do next. 

And, well…

She’d be lying if she said it weren’t at least a little bit thrilling. 

There’s something deep inside her that finds all of this so interesting, so amusing. She wants to know how far she can go, how hard she can push before he cracks under the pressure. And the fact that it’s her that has all this power over him—it’s certainly a revelation. 

But still, even if this is “fun,” she can be professional about this. She would never let it get “too far,” whatever that would be. No, the goal here isn’t to seduce her way into Peter’s pants, but to seduce him—innocently—enough that he just does it to himself. 

Her next plan might be a little more unfair, a little more direct, and perhaps a little more daring than the last one. 

And—she should add—much more difficult than she had anticipated. 

For one, she just can’t seem to get the right angle, holding her phone above her body, making sure to get both the underside of her breasts—a tasteful amount of boob, thank you very much—and the same cheap, pretty pink undies she bought from Target. It’s awkward, tilting and twisting her phone, her thumb just barely reaching the shutter button. The first few shots aren’t anything to be particularly proud of. Too blurry, her arm cramping up from holding the camera up so long. This isn’t something she’s really done before, given she’s never seen the appeal. Why send pics when you could just, you know, show them the real thing? 

But for some reason, it makes her heart climb into her throat, makes her face almost unbearably warm. 

It’s when she changes her positioning on her bed, finding some nice light filtering in from the early evening sun. Golden hour has always proven to be exceptionally kind to her. She finds a decent pose, covering both breasts with her forearm, arching her back, making sure to get that perfect “booty tooch” that would make Tyra proud. She breathes out in an attempt to cool her heated nerves, parting her lips in a way that’s sure to incite some kind of reaction. 

Click. 

And then, she’s got the shot. 

Okay, technically it’s not a nude, but there’s something about the idea of sending this picture to Peter of all people that gets her stomach twisting in knots. 

And as her hand hovers over the send button, her heart hammers in her chest, hesitation holding her still. She takes her bottom lip in her teeth, beginning to wonder if this is the best idea. Her plan had been to send the picture, play it off as some kind of mistake, and hope that he goes to… take care of himself. Sure, it might get a reaction out of Peter—one big enough that causes him to give up this whole no nut thing—but it almost feels as if she’s crossing some kind of line. 

Miming a blow job on a popsicle was one thing—one that she can’t decide if she’s proud of or not. That was just a performance. It wasn’t something she was doing to Peter. This—sending him a racy picture when he’s literally in the next room—is a direct interference. 

Plus, there’s no telling what this would do to their friendship. It could ruin everything. Catastrophically. 

Awkward would be an understatement. 

She puts her phone face down on the mattress, avoiding the picture all together, before getting up and pulling on one of her comfy robes. 

God, all of this was a terrible idea. 

Wallowing in her own self-pity and regret, she flops back down onto the bed, grabbing her phone with the intention of deleting the picture once and for all. It’s still there in the text conversation, just waiting to be sent. She scoffs, shaking her head at herself, only for her heart to stop in her chest when—in her frazzled state—she hits “send” instead of that little “x.”

“SHIT.” 

No no no no no NONONONONO.

She drops her phone immediately, wrapping her robe tighter around herself as she scrambles for her bedroom door, nearly tripping over her rug in the process. 

Peter’s sitting on the couch, blissfully unaware, when his phone pings. And to Michelle’s utter horror, he picks it up. 

“NO!” MJ shouts, jumping on top of him. It’s a futile attempt really, seeing as her best friend—she stupidly forgets—is an actual superhero. 

Peter yelps as she pushes him down into the couch, tumbling onto the floor, holding his phone away from her grabby hands as she straddles his hips. “What the fuck—” And while he could push her off of him with a ridiculous amount of ease, he stills, becoming suddenly aware of their precarious position. 

“Gimme your phone!” Her voice comes out in a half-plea, half-demand. All panic. 

Peter still holds it away from her, his own brand of panic flashing across his features when his other hand naturally falls at her hip. He yanks it away, instead holding her back by the shoulder. “Why?”

It’s also then that he sees what she’s wearing—or rather, what she isn’t wearing. 

And in his distraction, Michelle snatches his phone, instinctively throwing it across the room. She winces apologetically when he looks up at her, jaw dropped and brow wrinkled. 

“What the hell, MJ—”

“—I’m sorry! I panicked!”

“Why?!”

“I—”

It’s then, as they both stare at each other in shock, that they both realize the position they’re in—but neither of them seem to be able to move away, frozen solid on the living room floor. 

Peter can feel his heart beating relentlessly in his ears, his throat suddenly going dry when he notices how tightly Michelle’s thighs are holding him in place. Another problem starts to arise when he sees how her cotton robe is pooled around their aligned hips, his eyes catching the sliver of shiny pink underwear when one side falls back. “What—” He clears his throat, his voice coming out uncharacteristically breathy. “—What was on my… my phone?”

“Uh—” She presses her lips together. “A picture.”

Peter’s gaze drifts lower for a split second, dipping to the exposed dip in her chest, drawn to the rise and fall with each breath. “Of?” 

“Me?”

“You?”

MJ breathes out a laugh, glancing down. “I, uh—accidentally sent… You a picture. Well—I meant to send it to you, not that like, it wasn’t for you, but I kinda decided not to send it… and then… I did. Accidentally.” 

And even though he’s trying everything in his power to keep his eyes on her face, he can’t help the way they seem to travel lower and lower with each second. He’s confused at first, but then, it hits him, like a train, what exactly that picture was. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The air crackles between them, static in their ears. Michelle finds her own gaze drifting lower, lingering on his parted lips, a warmth pooling in the pit of her stomach. She shifts slightly, her breath catching as she suddenly feels the hardness pressing into the inside of her thigh. Peter stares up at her, something in his eyes bringing her closer, inch by inch. The warmth and weight of both of his hands tentatively, slowly moving to her waist causes something to ignite within her, and in a split-second, her lips are on his. 

Michelle’s surprised to find herself… well—surprised—at how this kiss doesn’t immediately turn into an all tongue-and-teeth, ripping-eachother’s-clothes-off kiss. It’s sweet. Slow and tender—as if the two of them are savoring it. Nothing like she’d expected Peter to be capable of. Nothing like how he’d painted himself to be from all of his hook-up stories. 

And she’s not entirely sure who’s “fault” it is when it turns into more. 

It could be the way she’s subtly grinding her hips against his, her body alight with the friction. 

It could be how his tongue swipes over her bottom lip, innocently at first. 

It could be her soft, breathy whines as one of his hands moves lower to cup her ass, pulling her closer, the new angle against his hardness bringing an indescribable feeling. 

And then again, it could be her robe starting to fall off her shoulders—she’s not sure who starts that, but all of a sudden she’s feeling cool air on her skin. 

She almost smiles into the kiss, thinking about how easily and quickly this “chaste” kiss had shifted. 

And it’s immediately after that thought that she snaps out of it. 

“Wait!” She says, pulling back and sitting up—but still staying in Peter’s lap. Before this can go any further, she has to tell him the truth. He has to be able to… back out of it. 

Where this sudden sense of generosity’s come from, she has no idea. 

He follows, sitting up with her, brows creasing, his expression a concoction of worry and panic. “Oh, fuck. I’m so sorry—”

“No!” She puts a hand on his shoulder after fixing her robe. Her thumb smooths over the fabric of his shirt. “No. It’s… fine. I just…” Surprisingly, she finds herself chuckling, unable to bite back her smile as he looks at her with concern. 

“What is it, Em?” 

It’s the nickname for her nickname that does it for her. Truly. 

“You good?” He asks, wincing as she shifts in his lap again. 

“Yeah, uh—” She coughs, trying unsuccessfully to hide the way her lips are twitching violently as she fights her smile. It takes her more than a few moments, the deep breaths she’s taking not doing all that much to help mask the humor in her tone. “—I know about No Nut November.” 

At first, Peter’s confused, staring back at her with furrowed brows, his mouth in a cute little ‘o’. He tries to play dumb, maybe thinking that he can get away with one final attempt to save his pride—letting out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck, he shrugs. “Yeah, my new diet. Crazy, huh?”

She blinks, blankly staring at him. “Peter.” There’s some amusement there, especially as she pointedly glances down to their current position. 

“What?” He asks dumbly. 

“Ned told me.”

Peter curses, wincing. “Damn it, Ned.”

“Yeah…” In a strange, very unwelcome bout of insecurity, Michelle removes her hands from Peter’s shoulders, twiddling her fingers together in front of her. “I made him tell me… and I kinda… also made him let me in on the bet.”

His eyes nearly bug out of his head. “What?!”

“We kinda made our own bet that like… If you lasted less than a week, I would get all the money.”

“You didn’t think I’d last a week?” Peter almost takes offense at that, even if there’s merit to her prediction. “Damn, MJ…”

“I mean… I also wanted to win. So… I kinda tried—or I guess have been trying… to sabotage you?” 

At that, his jaw drops. “No! Wait—You—What? I—” He stammers like that, his brain short-circuiting as she still watches from his lap. “That was—what? The porn? On my laptop?”

MJ nods, grimacing. 

“The… underwear? Just in the couch?” 

“Yeah…”

“And you were gonna…” He looks down at her, the cotton robe still just barely tied around her—the journey his eyes make also coinciding with his mouth going dry once again. “...That picture you took…?”

She nods again, looking down at her hands. 

“Putting your head on my lap?!” He asks, as if he of all people is scandalized. 

“That wasn’t part of the plan. That was kinda what helped me figure out that… I could just… do it myself.” 

“Oh my God,” he puts a hand on his face. “The popsicle. The fucking popsicle.”

“That was probably my best work, honestly.”

“That was so cruel.” 

And when he laughs, his eyes crinkling, she starts to see that maybe this will all be okay, and a sense of relief fills her chest. “Yeah, sorry. I also had Felicia help.” 

“You put her up to that?!” 

“Nah. She offered. I felt kinda weird about it—” She says the last part without realizing it, immediately shutting her mouth. 

“That’s why I said no,” Peter replies. 

It’s Michelle’s turn to be surprised. “What? Really? I thought it was just ‘cause you were so dedicated to this whole no nut thing.”

“I mean, yeah, I was but—” He laughs, reaching a hand up to smooth the curls at the base of his neck. “—I just… felt weird about it. With you guys being friends and all.” 

The way MJ’s heart flutters is strange, but not entirely unwelcome. “Why would that be weird?”

“Why did you think it’d be weird?” He throws back, his lips twisting into a curious grin. 

And not for the first time when talking to Peter, Michelle feels all knowledge of the English language leave her body. It’s strange, how much confidence she can have while literally dry-humping him on the living room floor, but how scared she can be trying to explain something about how she feels. 

She only shrugs. 

A beat passes, and still, Michelle can’t bring herself to move. 

“So…” Peter draws out after another moment. “All that—” he clears his throat. “—stuff… that was just to win that bet?” 

“Well, I mean—yeah?” The look of hurt on his face makes her heart lurch in her chest. She’s quick to correct herself. “But—I… I think maybe that could be a good thing.” 

His brows raise in careful curiosity, though he still seems apprehensive. “A good thing?” He asks slowly. 

Michelle nods, swallowing. “Uh—Yeah. ‘Cause… If I hadn’t then I wouldn’t have figured out that—um… I might—” It’s weird, how frustrating it is that she can’t seem to find the words she wants to say, that her brain seems to have completely abandoned her in her greatest, most dire time of need. And this shouldn’t be this hard. She’s an adult. She’s in her third year of college. 

Confessing the feelings that you’ve just realized you have for your best friend since high school should be easy right?

Right?

And she’s only just figured this out. In the last five seconds. That all these years of weird feelings, long glances, warm faces has actually lead to something, they’ve actually meant something other than a weird stomach bug or whatever. 

All it took was attempted sabotage during No Nut November for her to realize that. 

The power it has. 

“MJ?”

His voice grabs her attention; the caution in his tone snapping her gaze to his. And for a moment, she just looks at him, mouth hanging open as she tries to say something, anything. But still, she can’t.

So, she does the next best thing. 

She kisses him—again—trying her best to put all of the words she can’t seem to figure out into it. And although he kisses her back—easily—he doesn’t seem to understand what she means, because he pulls away not ten seconds later. 

“Listen—MJ—” Peter stammers, running a jittery hand through his hair as he breathes out a huff of laughter. “—I don’t think I can do—” He gestures between the two of them. “—This… if it’s just… casual.” 

So, he really didn’t get it, and now, she’s feeling the impatience creeping up her neck. 

“I really like you, MJ,” he confesses, and for a moment, she’s not sure if she heard him right, or if she heard him speak at all. Her brain must be playing some nasty, cold-hearted trick on her, because Peter—perpetually single and ready to mingle Peter—just said that he liked her. 

God, she feels like she’s a teenager again. It feels so high school, the amount of butterflies in her stomach hearing him say that. 

Even more so when she finds herself responding automatically, “I really like you, too.”

“Cool,” he says lamely, his breathless chuckle making her heart flutter in her chest. 

He doesn’t waste another second before he tugs her back to him, capturing her lips to his, one of his hands moving to cup the underside of her jaw. She tilts her head, letting out a gentle sigh as he deepens the kiss. His tongue brushes against her lips before slipping into her mouth. The weight of his other hand on her waist is comforting in a way, heavy and solid as he holds her in place. 

Truly, she hadn’t expected any of her plans from earlier in the week to come to this. 

Instinctively, her hand snakes down to his hips, sliding underneath the hem of his t-shirt and dragging across his stomach, smiling into the kiss as his muscles twitch underneath her touch. It’s then, as her hand dips even lower, palming him over his sweats that he seems to snap out of whatever trance she put him in. 

He grabs her wrist—gently, of course—pulling it away and breaking the kiss. 

His chest is heaving with each breath, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in an apologetic smile. “I—I can’t—the… the bet.”

And it dawns on Michelle then, that she’s been cockblocked by No Nut November. 

Even though she tries to appear understanding, he must be able to see the disappointment in the twist of her lips, the way she nods quietly. 

“But—” He starts, pressing his mouth together into a thin line. He nudges her, pointing his finger as he’s hit with a revelation, talking slowly. “—You’re not… doing… No Nut November…”

MJ lets out a surprised laugh, shifting in his lap as her face warms even more. A beat passes as she stares at him, giving him a chance to take it back. “Are you sure?” She finally asks.

Peter nods quickly, insistently. He’s got this. Clearly. “Oh. Yeah. Definitely. I’ll be fine.”

Yeah, she’s not sure how much of that she actually believes. 

Probably none of it. 

But, that doesn’t mean she’s turning down the offer. 

“Okay…” She trails off, unable to bite back her grin at the brief self-doubt that flashes across his features. “What do you—what do you wanna do?” She asks, her face burning, suddenly finding herself the slightest bit tongue tied. It takes everything in her to at least look calm and not like she’s about a half-second away from just jumping his bones. 

Or, one in particular. 

Peter clears his throat, the tips of his ears turning an adorable shade of red. “Uh—” He huffs out a laugh. “I mean… Whatever you’re comfortable with? I’m cool with whatever you want.”

He’s cool. Okay. Yeah. 

She shifts her weight again, biting back a smirk when he inhales sharply as she brushes against the hardness in his gray sweats. “Sorry.” Feeling merciful, Michelle climbs off of his lap, sitting back against the couch, curling her legs underneath her. “Any ideas?” 

Though, Peter can’t seem to tell if he’s happy with this new development or not—as hard as it was having her sitting on him. “Um—” And his expression tells her that he does have one. “I could…” He coughs again. “I could go down on you?”

It’s funny, how casually he says it, like he’s offering to give her a ride to the airport, or something. But it still makes her ears ring. 

“Yeah,” she says, nodding slowly. She swallows. “That sounds—that sounds good.”

“We should probably—” He gestures to his bedroom door, huffing out a laugh. “—not do this out here.” 

“Probably,” she snorts. 

The speed at which he scrambles to stand and runs to his bedroom, compared to her somewhat-leisurely pace, makes her let out the most undignified laugh. 

A silence falls between them as he shuts the door, the click echoing. MJ takes a moment to glance around his room—literally a single moment, because in the next he’s wrapping his arm around her waist, yanking her to him and crashing his lips to hers. His hands are greedy, twisting handfuls of the soft fabric of her robe, finding purchase on her ass and grinding her against his hardness. 

MJ revels in the groan he lets out as she melts into him, her hands winding themselves in his soft curls, twisting and tugging ever so slightly. 

He guides her to the bed, pausing to gently lay her back on the mattress before crawling over her, his mouth finding itself on the underside of her jaw, his lips and tongue dragging along the column of her throat. With one hand, he prises her legs apart, happily settling between them while his other fumbles with the tie of her robe. 

His eyes meet hers first, silently asking for permission, before pulling the thick string back. His eyes darken as Michelle helps him slip the robe back, leaving her almost completely bare underneath him. He unconsciously wets his lips as his eyes hungrily rake over the expanse of her body—he feels as if the only accurate description for how he feels at this moment being a deer caught in really well-defined headlights. 

She thinks for a moment that he’s just going to do this—stare at her—instead of, well, what he said he’d do. 

But he doesn’t seem to have that kind of patience. He lurches forward, his mouth hot on her neck, trailing open-mouthed, wet kisses down to her collarbone, her sternum, the swell of her right breast. 

She bites back a gasp as he takes her nipple into his mouth, her back arching off the bed as his tongue swirls around it, palming the other with his hand. It’s a sight to see for sure, Peter’s head on her chest, his curls tickling her skin.

His trail continues, back to the dip in her chest, lower and lower, his kisses hot on her stomach, down to her hips, the lace trim of her thong.

Peter sits back on his heels, breathless as he looks down at her. “Fuck—” He curses, drawn to the damp patch in the middle of the soft faux-satin, how it clings to her. 

He doesn’t give it another second, hooking his thumbs around the lace and roughly pulling them off of her legs. 

He’s diving his head down in the next instant, his lips leaving scorching kisses on the inside of her thighs. He thinks that he can maybe tease her, trying to slow his pace as he gets closer and closer to where she wants him to be. 

(Okay, it’s where he wants to be, too.)

He pulls back a little, trying not to smile too much at the disappointed edge in her shuddering sigh. As much as his mouth waters with her so close to him, he controls himself. Kind of. To a degree. He takes a finger, experimentally teasing her entrance, his sweats—somehow—tightening at Michelle’s quiet gasp as he touches her. There, he collects her wetness, coating his finger in her arousal, swirling it over her cunt, around her clit. And he sits there, marveling at how impossibly wet she is already. 

Though, it’s not long, probably less than a minute, before his impatience kicks in again. 

He thinks he might actually die if he doesn’t eat her out. 

Dramatic? Maybe. 

Valid?

Who’s to say?

But he can’t help himself, and any thought about slowing down is thrown out the window as he licks a long stripe up her center, his eyes rolling back as he tastes her. He dives right back in, his tongue circling her entrance, lapping her up. 

And Michelle can’t help but notice how at home he looks between her legs, how in his element he is as he moves to start sucking on her clit, flicking it back and forth with his tongue as he teases her with two fingers. 

His eyes meet hers and she wonders how on earth she’s going to survive this, especially when those two fingers push into her, curling as he pumps them in and out. 

“Shit—Peter!” She cries, her back fully lifting off the mattress as he picks up his pace, moaning against her. 

Clearly he’s enjoying this, too. 

A choked gasp slips from her lips when he slows suddenly, his eyes locking with hers again before picking back up even harder and faster than before. She reaches down, tangling her hand in his messy curls, holding him in just that right spot. Her thighs try to close on him, trapping him in as the coil in her tightens, but his free hand grips her, holding her in place. And she can’t fight the way her hips buck against him as she begins to grind herself against his face. 

It builds and builds, teetering just on that beautiful edge, when Peter adds a third finger—and then, she’s seeing stars, her brain going fuzzy as all of her muscles tense, electricity shooting from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She comes with a strangled moan, panting as her body’s overcome with pleasure. 

Peter’s movements slow, and he pulls off of her sensitive clit, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm, before taking each finger into his mouth, sucking them clean. 

MJ sits up on her elbows, her chest heaving with each breath as she watches him—and at that moment, her eyes drawn to the hard line in his sweats, she curses No Nut November again, because honestly, she’s never wanted him to fuck her more, never been so angry at a single month.

He seems to be in the same fire, his expression wrought with the inner turmoil he feels. His eyes screw shut, and he pinches the bridge of his nose, trying desperately to ignore how painfully hard he is, how he can feel his dick pulsing already, and how stupidly hot and beautiful MJ is. 

His decision’s made before he opens his eyes. 

Michelle lets out a surprised yelp as he leaps on top of her, his mouth on hers before she can start laughing. Somehow, his hands are greedier as they explore her body, squeezing and kneading her breasts, her waist, her hips, down to her ass. 

None of that’s to say that she’s complaining, though. Peter just ate her out like it was his full-time job, like he was stopping crime as Spider-Man. As far as she’s concerned, he can do whatever he wants right now. 

It’s when he starts to take his sweats—and boxers—off that she gets confused, if not a little too hopeful. 

“What about the bet?” She asks breathlessly when he pulls back.

He holds her gaze, his lips curving into a sly grin. “Fuck the bet.”

If there’s a god, Michelle wants to thank her right now. 

Peter’s hands grip her thighs, his fingers digging into her skin as he wraps them around his waist. He takes his dick in his hand, pumping a few times, swiping it down her center, tapping her clit, before Michelle suddenly remembers to use their one collective brain cell. 

“Wait—” she gasps. “Condom.”

Peter curses under his breath, hanging his head for a moment, biting his lip. “Yeah. Yeah. You’re right.” 

If she thought he was fast running to the bedroom, watching him scramble through his bedside drawers looking for a rubber is something else. A giggle—a fucking giggle—bubbles up out of her at his relief when he finds one. 

He rolls it on quickly, expertly, days of No Nut November clearly not slowing him down. 

He’s back on her in the next second, eager as he gathers her arousal and coating himself with it. 

They both let out a string of curses as he pushes into her—finally. Peter screws his eyes shut, taking a shuddering breath as he feels how warm and snug she is around him, almost unable to believe how well she fits him. MJ grips his shoulder, face burning as he gives her a moment to adjust, a moment to take all of him in. 

When he starts to move, they both wonder again why they hadn’t been doing this in the first place. 

As with everything else, Peter doesn’t waste their time. Even though he revels in how fucking amazing she feels around him, how he can’t even remember the last time this felt so good, so right, he picks up a steady pace, fucking into her like it’s the last chance he’ll get. He hikes her leg higher on his waist, the new, deeper angle causing Michelle to arch her back, a wet moan ripping through her. 

“Peter—” She chants his name over and over, unable to say anything else as his hips snap into hers. “Fuck—”

“God, MJ, you’re so fucking good,” his voice is almost a growl, lower and more desperate than he’s ever sounded. “Taking me so well.”

Michelle should’ve guessed he was one for dirty talk, though she can’t say she’s surprised. 

Or that she minds. 

Peter bites back a groan, stilling momentarily as she clenches around him, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He’s already so close, teetering just on the edge, but he’s filled with a sense of determination at the sting of her nails digging into his shoulders. 

His hand trails down her stomach, his thumb pressing her clit, scrubbing furiously as he pumps in and out of her. She squeezes him again, head thrown back, slack-jawed as he tilts her hips even further, the new angle causing a string of curses to spill from her lips. Her muscles spasm around him as she comes for a second time, her eyes screwed shut as she clings to him for dear life. His own orgasm crashes over him, and he moans loudly into her skin, holding her to him , fingers digging into her hips as he comes undone. 

It’s something MJ can’t help but want to see again. And again. 

He flops down on top of her, his head on her chest as he struggles to catch his breath. 

Her hand comes to smooth down his curls at the nape of his neck, and she smiles as he shifts his head to look up at her. 

“God, fuck No Nut November,” He breathes into her skin. 

A light laugh bubbles up out of her. 

He lets out a heavy sigh. “What day is it?” He asks.

“November fifth.” 

He groans, squeezing his eyes shut. “Damn.” He pulls out of her, standing up to throw the condom away, almost missing the bin in the corner of the room. 

“You made it longer than I thought you would,” Michelle laughs.

Peter flops down next to her, his eyes narrowed, though there’s still a smile on his face. “What?” 

“Well, yeah. I bet Ned that you wouldn’t last a week,” she replies, patting him on the chest as she gets up, disappearing into the bathroom. 

Peter’s eyes widen before he covers them with his hands. “Oh. Shit. Ned.”

He’s still there when she comes back; still naked, too. 

“Ned, doesn’t have to know,” MJ says, falling back into the bed with him. 

Peter peeks out from underneath his arm. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. We can like, pretend you’re still doing it.”

There’s a crooked grin on Peter’s face as he stares at her—a look that makes her insides gooey and heart fuzzy. 

And she hates how much she doesn’t hate it. 

“And when Betty inevitably breaks Ned,” she shrugs. “We can split the money.”

He shakes his head, amazed and somewhat scandalized. “MJ, you’re a genius.”

Again, she shrugs. 

“So, we can keep doing—” He gestures between them, brows raised. “—And let Ned lose. The money’s ours.”

“Right.”

He lamely sticks his hand out, offering for her to shake on it.

“Deal?” He asks.

She kisses him. “Deal.”