#Hulu trying to be netflix and taking away anything that made it stand out in any posiive way (comments section.. other things that I forget

[icewindandboringhorror]

I miss when Hulu used to have a comments section under every video, there was always something interesting (in a human behavior curiosity kind of way) about scrolling down to see usually an absolutely ridiculous collection of people having a rowdy open forum discussion about something you just watched that you had a completely neutral non-reaction to 

[runephoenix6769]

“What is with the Blake / Yang hate this week? Folks seem particularly fired up.” I asked this question on a forum because of something I’ve noticed the last few days on discussions about Blake and Yang/Bumbleby/shipping in general. I keep seeing the same answers.  “It ruins the team’s dynamic.”

Welp, I’m pretty certain none of those people would say that Raven/Tai and Tai/Summer ruined the team’s dynamic. Or that Ren and Nora are currently  ruining the team’s dynamic.  What is this holy than thou crusading to protect the sanctity of the team dynamic? Rwby has always been first and foremost about interpersonal relationships. It’s what drives the actual plot. Character growth, failing relationships/friendships. How they change over time, either to grow or crumble. 

“It’s being shoehorned in, for fanwank.” How? How is it being shoehorned in? Give me a narrative breakdown as to where/how/when this occurs? Compare it to the Sun/Blake narrative and show me the glaring differences between the Yang/Blake narrative to prove that bumbleby was never planned yet blacksun was?  (Sidenote. Anyone that has been asked to do this on the forum has yet to do it.)

“Yang showed interest in boys.”“ Yes, yes she passed comment once. In vol 1 episode 1. 8 VOLUMES AGO. She has shown not a lick of interest in guys since. Its almost as if she’s like any normal 17 year old girl who is growing into adulthood and figuring herself out, who might be realising her interest in Blake isn’t strictly platonic and is trying to navigate that whilst also grappling with what that means with regards to their friendship. And dealing with an over arching situation that is, ya know, potentially the end of the world as they know it.  It’s about two years in universe, right? Which is about right of an amount of time for what its happening between them to play out. It only feels like longer to the audience because, well, its taken 8/9 years to tell the story up until that point. 

“The Fans are too loud/vocal/come on too strong.” Ok, this one I agree with, we are loud and vocal and that might come across as coming on strong  (here’s a huge) BUT, there is actually a genuine explanation for why it seems that way.   If you really think about it, objectively. 

Hear me out.  Fans are excited about the potential representation we don't otherwise usually get in media. I mean, if you have 10,000 pieces of media and only ONE of them represents lgbtq people, of course we’re gonna be excited and talk about the ONE quite a bit with others who are like us. This might also be the first time we’ve seen anything like this, or seen ourselves represented in a somewhat positive light. It stands to reason that the other 9999 pieces aren't going to hold our attention as much, esp if its the same hetero romance played out a bajillion times before, right? I mean, if you have a group of people who are constantly represented in the 9999 other shows, their voices are going to spread thinner, right? They aren’t going to be gathered all on one place, talking about the same thing because there are 9999 other choices to connect them to other people. They aren’t going to care as much if their straight ship happens/doesnt happen 

“Hey, I can move onto another piece of media that is churned out by the status quo. No big deal.”

Hetero romances are ten a penny. Flick through netflix, hulu, crunchy roll etc.  Where as if you have a group of people who are only represented in ONE show out of the 10,000 those people are going to gather in one place to connect with others and its only going to seem like they are louder due to the densely packed space.  These same people have been majority silent about the other 9999 pieces of media as their voice isn't usually represented in a positive light - being queer characters are usually brutally murdered or sidelined. (Thankyou Hays Code.)- or not even represented at all. (Bury Your Gays is a trope for a reason, folks.) And we are NEVER the titular characters. We’ve been living on crumbs and subtext for decades! Not to mention showrunners who actively queerbait the hell out of us for ratings and viewership. The almighty Pink Pound as its often referred to in business. “But why do they have to make them gay?” You’re not made gay, you’re born gay. It just takes longer for some people to realise than others. It can be a gradual realisation. And this is quite possibly the case with Yang/Blake, slowly coming to realise their own burgeoning sexualities and attraction to each other.

”Why do they have to be gay?” They don't need a reason to be queer! They just are! Queerness is only a part of a person, not their everything. It’s actually quite refreshing to see Yang/Blake being portrayed as much more than their potential sexuality.  Ask yourself, ‘Why does a character have to be straight? And why doesn’t a straight character have to constantly reaffirm their sexuality? Why is ‘straightness’ assumed by default?’ Heteronormativity, is something that has been perpetuated by decades of media. (helped by the Hays Code with its out of date moral code. To be other is to be punished within the narrative.) That straight is the default setting. It’s not! We exist! Everywhere! We always have and we are going to talk to each other about it when we see a glimpse of ourselves represented in what has been a relative Sahara Desert when it comes to queer content were we are not villainised.   “The romance is detracting from the plot.” Two seconds ago, people were claiming that the romance was none existent. Which is it? But Nora and Ren’s romance that is being held up as a mirror to bumbleby is fine? That Jaune relentlessly pursuing Weiss was perfectly ok. Neptune openly hitting on female characters is fine. 

“I don’t have a problem with LGBT. I just don’t want it forced down my throat.” Again, out of 10,000 pieces of media, this is just ONE show. Nobody is forcing anyone to watch it or participate.  Queer people have had to stomach literal 100′s of years of straight media forced upon them. Since the very conception of the written word and narrative storytelling. In plays, theatre, art, music, tv, film, on billboards, advertising, in places of education and learning etc etc. Queer people are bombarded with it whilst also being surrounded by negativity towards queerness. 

“They are shoving it down my throat!” part two Is hand holding, compassion and expressing concern for another person and comforting them somehow offensive? Renora kissed, not a problem. Arkos kissed, not a problem. Show me in the sand where the line is drawn. What is the difference? Please explain this to me? Why is the expression of queerness somehow offensive? Is this because decades of media have perpetuated the false idea that all queer people are sex crazed perverts? That you’ve been groomed into thinking that queer sexuality is only based in the act of sex itself? That queer sexuality couldn’t possibly be similar to heterosexuality in its expression?

That it couldn’t possibly be about attraction, emotional, mental and maybe one day blossom into physical between two consenting adults, a pure expression of love the exact same as heterosexuality. 

That some how queer love stems from some sort of deviancy or mental health issue. That queer people are some how bad or evil, and therefore their expression of affection is wrong? Oh, I wonder where those beliefs have possibly stemmed from?  “Why are they in my face?” part three.  50% of of the titular cast are potentially queer. Blake and Yang. But if you look at the overall cast ensemble that runs at minimum 16 any given volume, that’s a measly 12.5% (prolly a lot smaller if you actually counted the whole cast that appears in rotation each volume) Also, someone did the math. Blake - a titular character- actually has less spoken lines that Jaune. ffs. B&Y spent neatly a whole two volumes of 8 apart. 25% of the narrative as it stands on entirely different continents. 

I fail to see how it being in someone’s face could be the case.

  “I just don't see it!”

That’s ok and perfectly valid But listen when people who have lived this experience are telling you that their experience is being portrayed on the screen. That they see themselves being represented.  OK, This completely got away from me. In conclusion. They are more straight people than queer people and media often reflects that.   We are usually the silent minority, we are sick of it but we are used to it and we are very excited that things seem to be finally changing.

It’s two characters in an large cast in ONE show out of 10,000. Its a piece of media that, for a change, hasn’t been 100% curated for straight people.  We are often not allowed to play in the sand box and if we are, we’re told to play with the broken toys, be grateful and quiet. So when we are given a sandbox to play in with new unbroken toys, we are gonna dog pile in there and make a ruckas, calling our friends over. What I’m trying to say is, it’s gonna get rowdy.  and here’s something to think about.  “When you are used to privilege, equality feels like deprivation.”  

[laziarteest]

Ellie Rants About TMNT 2012

It took approximately three years, but I’ve finally watched every episode of this cartoon. I didn’t expect it to take me that long, but I got distracted. I didn’t expect my feelings to turn quite so sour towards the end, but.... Well I’ll cover that when we get to it. If you’re familiar with the show or saw my other posts, you might know what I mean. Gonna do my best to avoid comparing the show to any of the other iterations of the series since I feel like each one should be able to stand on its own.

So if you’ve been around on my blog since 2018, you might remember that I started watching this version of TMNT on a whim because hulu was working while Netflix wasn’t. Up to that point my knowledge of the franchise basically consisted of a tiny handful of episodes from the 1987 and 2003 cartoons that I’d happened to see one way or another, the fact that it was crazy popular in the 90s, and a couple fun facts that my dad would share. That meant that this was going to be my first time watching a TMNT cartoon from the beginning and trying to get invested in what was happening. I made it as far as partway into season 4 before I dropped it. It can’t have been long after Trans-dimensional Turtles. When I decided to watch all of the 2003 cartoon recently, I figured I might as well revisit the 2012 cartoon afterward since it was the show that got me interested in the first place. Instead of picking up where I’d left off, since I couldn’t remember where that was, I decided to just go back to the very beginning and watch it all again. It’s somewhat unfortunate that they decided to do 3D models for the animation, in my opinion, since when it comes to the way the show looks, it’s definitely going to age pretty poorly in the long run. Though the stylization of the models does help somewhat.

Season 1: I might as well get this out of the way early. Pretty much right away, Mikey tends to be treated fairly poorly. I don’t know if they intended him to come off as annoying or if it was just a side effect of trying to make him appealing for very young kids, but he tends to get on my nerves. I don’t hate him, but he’s by far my least favorite turtle. So if there’s an episode where the entire conflict happens or is exacerbated because of Mikey, there’s a good chance I don’t care for that episode, or at the very least that parts with him in it. The problem is that I desperately want to like Mikey because I know he can be done well. He just tends to not be. Thankfully the first couple episodes, the two-parter Rise of the Turtles, that start off the series are pretty enjoyable. They’re the whole reason I stuck it out as long as I did, I just liked those episodes that much. From that point I feel like the quality tends to fluctuate a bit. Episodes that contribute directly to forwarding the plot tend to be pretty solid. Anything else in between ranged between really good and meh for me. Anything to do with romantic relationships was definitely off-putting. It didn’t bother me as much the first time I watched these episodes, but revisiting them more recently, Donnie tends to be pretty creepy about April, and it’s slightly spoilery, but the thing between Leonardo and Karai is super squicky once you know the twist. Looking past these issues, I generally had a good time with these episodes. The problems were there, but were usually contained to just a couple episodes here or there. Season 2: When it comes to looking at the big picture, this season is one of the better ones. Dare I say, it could be my favorite? There were definitely some throwaway episodes, but there was also a lot of really cool stuff. Casey Jones shows up for the first time, we get some conflict between the turtles and April, got some good Leo moments in Fungus Humongous, the Rat King appears.... Lots of good episodes. Really like the finale. Plus there were some Mikey episodes that I didn’t tune out of because his childishness and randomness was actually useful a few times. One thing that was slightly annoying as soon as I noticed was that Leonardo’s voice actor got replaced partway through the season. I know why they did it, but it was still odd once I noticed. The guy filling in did a pretty good job at first, it wasn’t until a couple episodes into his run that I noticed some of his line deliveries felt off. Otherwise I don’t have a ton to say about this season? It was good. Some of the issues from before are still here, but they’re not really going to go anywhere for a while, if at all. Season 3: I’ve heard people tend to like this season? I’ll admit I found the first half with the farmhouse to be really fun. Any time they shake up the setting and let you look at something other than just city streets is usually a good time. Plus since I’m very biased towards good Leonardo content, watching him try to recover and deal with some internal strife was a good time for me. I will say that the episode A Foot Too Big gets a mixed reaction from me though. It was good to see Donnie realize he’s been really gross about his feelings towards April, and it would have been nice to see him get let down gently and they just be good friends instead. But then she had to go and kiss him and ruin the whole lesson. Speaking of Leo again, he also got his new permanent voice in this season. I wasn’t expecting them to attempt to give a reason for the change, but I guess Seth Green’s voice was different enough they felt an explanation was necessary. The voice took a while to grow on me, but I think he usually did a really good job. The second half of the season was a little more hit or miss for me. Most of the episodes were at least okay, but anything dealing with Karai felt like they were just retreading old ground that they forgot to cover earlier or didn’t have time for but wanted to use anyway. Especially since the resolution is so quick. At least there were some time traveling shenanigans with Renet. I understand that it would be really easy to overuse her since time powers are kinda OP, but I wish we got to see more of her. I sort of wish the build up to the finale was a bit smoother though. The previous two seasons did a pretty good job of setting up for the story of the finale episodes and then having the following season pick up right away from where they leave off. This time though it just drops the story in your lap with no foreshadowing. The first time I watched the show it didn’t bother me, but the second time through it caught me off guard how the Triceratons just come out of nowhere and are suddenly a world-ending threat. Sure the finale was very exciting, just wish it had been telegraphed better. I saw another post where someone mentioned they should have had Bishop show up earlier in the season, and I definitely agree that would have helped. It just sort of felt like they didn’t know they were going to be doing a space arc until they got to the last three episodes of the season and realized they hadn’t set anything up for season 4. While the high points of this season get pretty high, I think the low points go low enough for me to still prefer season 2, but if you can ignore a few stupid sideplots, it’s fairly solid and fun to watch. Season 4: Alright! Here we go! The season that probably should have been the last one and is where I originally dropped the series back in 2018! The first half of the season was... interesting? Like season 3, it takes place in a different setting. Most of the first 13 episodes take place either on a space ship or an alien planet. To me it felt like they tried to juggle too much. While there is a coherent story, it takes a lot of breaks that don’t really contribute. There’s an entire episode that just gets undone by the end, so aside from wanting to include Wyrm, it didn’t really need to be there. Looking at a list of episodes, there’s at least one episode I can’t remember at all, and I watched it like two days ago. And as fun as Trans-dimensional Turtles is, it doesn’t really contribute much in the long run either. Though I still like the episode. I’d say things pick up after the space arc, but for me the second half still felt fairly weak for a while. Shinigami seems really cool, but we never really learn more about her beyond the fact that she knew Karai when she lived in Japan. City at War didn’t really feel like the city was at war. Some of the stuff with April and her crystal was kinda fun though. Got some cool fights out of it. I wanted to like the episode with Alopex, it just seems like a waste to have alluded to her before and then she finally shows up, fights a little, and then we never see her again. Splinter sure did take a lot of abuse this season though, hoo boy. I got spoiled on it ahead of time, but geeeeez I did not expect some of the things they put him through. I’d possibly have to watch it again to be sure, but I thought Owari would have been a really good place to end things. It was somewhat bittersweet, but in the end they beat Shredder. The guy that just wouldn’t give up. More so than the previous ones, season 4 feels like a mixed bag. It had a handful of really great episodes, and then a whole lot of episodes that you could probably skip and not be missing anything. Mostly by this point, the one thing that kept me going aside from wanting to know how it ends was the fact that the look of the show had improved. It was still the same CG, but the composition of the shots and the choreography of the action scenes looked a lot higher quality. My dad kept commenting on how the background music was really good towards the end. Season 5: Also known as Tales of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. This one... I have VERY mixed feelings on this one. The idea of doing multiple smaller story arcs seemed like a decent idea. Some of them I thought were entertaining, but one of them. One of them I loathe. The first few episodes leading up to End Times were whatever. Not good, not bad. Passable. I thought bringing Shredder back AGAIN was overkill, but it was fine with the way it worked out. I’d prefer if this arc didn’t happen because why was Tigerclaw so gung-ho about reviving this asshole, but it’s fine if you just want to see some neat action. The episodes with Newtralizer were, again, okay. I wasn’t really curious about what had happened to him or Dregg, but it was fine. Nice to see Mikey actually be competent and not get beaten up for saying something dumb for the 47th time. The crossover with Usagi Yojimbo was pretty fun. I’m not terribly familiar with the source material, and it felt a bit rushed at times if only because they had to resolve the whole plot in only three episodes, but I had a good time and it made me appreciate Usagi’s character more. Lone Rat and Cubs was the only standalone episode, and honestly, I wish they’d done more to show the turtles when they were younger. Would I want an entire series about them being toddlers? No. But would I want two or three more episodes about single dad Splinter raising 4 rowdy boys? Yes. Probably my favorite episode of the whole season. Then we get to the arc that left me with a bad taste in my mouth. Looking into it after the fact, this arc was apparently supposed to be the series finale. And I’m so glad it wasn’t and Nickelodeon made it non-canon. This arc is so depressing and it contradicts canon so badly. The Mutant Apocalypse arc is so terrible. I’m sorry if you happen to like this arc, but I hate it. Not only does it do wrong by all the characters, it doesn’t even properly explain everything that happened. My hatred for this arc is the whole reason I’m even making this post. So there was a Mutagen Bomb? Where did that come from? How did it affect the whole world? Why did it turn everything into a desert instead of making it look like Dimension X? Was it a different kind of mutagen? Why is everything Mad Max now??????? How did Raphael lose his memories? How did he grow a beard??? We’re told that Donatello’s body was near death, so he moved his mind into a robot. But how did he manage that? How is it that Casey, April, Karai, Shinigami, Slash, Mondo Gecko, etc seemed to have either died or just gone missing. That’s a lot of beloved characters to just decide are irrelevant. Yet Ice Cream Kitty is somehow fine??? Mikey can grow hair and is a crazy hermit?? I was already angry enough about what they did to the other three brothers, but then they show what happened to Leonardo and any hope I had of this arc being okay just dropped dead in front of me. They did this boy so dirty. They did all four of them soooo dirty. The only decent thing to come out of the arc were some okay visuals, but that’s not enough to overcome my contempt for this story. I just cannot properly express how distressed this story made me. AND THEY WANTED TO SHOW THIS TO KIDS? At least since that wasn’t the finale anymore, it got to be followed up by another story with Renet. This story is honestly pretty dumb, but it’s at least harmless in its stupidity. Maybe it’s because Raphael wasn’t around to punch Mikey for being stupid, but I actually found Mikey to be a welcome bit of comic relief for once instead of the annoyance he usually was prior. I think the most obnoxious part about Savanti Romero returning the way he did was just that it got so much wrong about the monsters, but I can overlook it since most kids probably aren’t well read enough to be familiar with Dracula and Frankenstein as they are in the novels. Plus Raph being a vampire was probably funnier than it should have been. Still wish we could have gotten more Renet content earlier on, but what ya gonna do. Then finally it ends with one last crossover with the ‘87 turtles. I wish we could have seen more of the 1987 dimension since it looked like the animation quality had gotten better since the last crossover episode. I think Trans-dimensional Turtles was the better crossover though. Maybe it was because of the shorter runtime, but it seemed like the ‘87 turtles were more competent in that one than here. I know I said at the top that I wanted to avoid comparisons, but it gave me Turtles Forever vibes the way the 2012 turtles were boasting about being better. Why can’t these turtle boys just get along Though I did think it was pretty fun how Bebop and Rocksteady got to save the day. Overall though? Season 5 is kind of a disappointment. I knew to expect that going in since I’d read all about how this show got screwed by the network, but I didn’t expect my opinion to go as low as it did. Out of the whole season, there’s really only a few episodes I would ever consider revisiting. An unfortunate way to end a series that was otherwise pretty great.

So after watching the whole thing, I’d say if you haven’t seen it before, but still want to after potentially getting spoiled, you should really stop after season 4. You could probably pick and choose from Tales if you really wanted to, but Owari was already the perfect ending. I know I complained a lot, but aside from that last season, I really did have a lot of fun watching the show. It might not be my favorite version of the turtles, but it is the one that introduced me to the franchise, so it’ll always be special.

BONUS Half-Shell Heroes: Blast to the Past: It’s a goofy toy commercial. Has some really cute flash animation. It’s not canon or anything, but I did watch it. Not much else I can say lol

[lokilickedme]

Hulu and Do You

A Hammer Of The Gods Jake & Tate Shortfic, Part One

Part One - The Worst Kind of Man Rated M for language and adult themes - no sex yet (and I stress yet) 1703 words Takes place a year after the events of Hammer of The Gods

I’m posting this here for now because I’m not in the mood to accidentally start another longfic and AO3 tends to do that to me.  This will be two parts with the second coming later.  Written under the duress of a headache and not edited or proofread, so...whatever’s down there is what ya get.

I’ll reblog later tonight with my tag list attached.  Slide under the cut and lets go :)

“Geezus fuck kid, take that to your mom.”

Tate flinched, that same old kneejerk reaction to a raised male voice that she’d always had, a holdover from another time, another place, and most definitely another man.  But the man in the next room hadn’t really raised his voice, had he?  No, it was just that she was so damn used to it happening that the reflex had become too deeply ingrained to not be automatic.  It made her feel ashamed of herself for not being over it, just a tiny bit.

Jake didn’t raise his voice.  Not at her, not at her kids, not ever.  She’d never really actually heard him raise it, not in anger, not even when he was threatening a creatively bloody demise toward her long gone ex the day he’d popped his jaw damn well near clean off his face.

Jake wasn’t a yeller.

But he was definitely a curser, and her son had committed the unforgivable by blasting into the room he was working in to offer up an empty GoGurt tube in trade for a new one.

It wasn’t unforgivable in this house though, and it wasn’t unforgivable with this man.

Only The Ex.  Once upon a time.

Jake didn’t mind the kids coming into his study room; he wasn’t insanely nuts about them being around him, but he had no particular dislike of it either, other than when one or the other of them handed him something sticky.

Like the youngest just had.

She couldn’t blame him, to be honest.  GoGurt tubes in the hands of a four year old weren’t something she enjoyed dealing with herself, and Jake - well, Jake wasn’t the daddy type.  But he was a good man, albeit a filthy-mouthed one, and the words hadn’t even been the slightest bit irritated sounding.  Just more of an Ew, hell no.

So why the flinch?

She’d been trying to sort that in her head for the past year, and the only conclusion she’d reached was the uncertain possibility that she was simply afraid that one day Jake would become like The Ex.  Angry, irritated, controlling, condescending.  Disapproving.  Abusive.  She had nothing to base it on other than the fact that it had happened once and her luck, though vastly improved since the night she���d grabbed the kids and walked out with nothing but Jake’s tuition money in her pocket, couldn’t possibly hold.

Or could it?

Perhaps Pete had been right when he’d summed his friend up in a single sentence - He might look like he’d snap your neck for a half smoked cig but he’d just as soon pay you a nickel for it.  It hadn’t made sense at the time, but a year of dating the man had put a bit of clarity on it for her.  Jake was quick to anger in attitude only.  For the most part he was levelheaded, quiet, capable.  He had a low tolerance for idiocy and a deep appreciation for common sense, and what he put into the world by way of surliness he made up for in an intense intelligence and observant nature that dictated he simply deal with problems himself instead of waiting for anyone else to solve them.  And now, after all this time, she knew something not many other people knew.

The angry attitude wasn’t real.

Jake Harper was a fraud.

He didn’t hate the world...he was just uncomfortable in it.  Whether it was shyness or impatience or what his sisters referred to as “a near fatal case of attention deficit coupled with just too damn smart for this world”, she’d probably never figure out.

Not that it mattered.  She’d long since sorted how to work around it and keep that furrow-browed scowl from being used on her.

Jake was easily distractable...and he didn’t like to watch TV.

At all.

And that was where Tate’s secret weapon came into play.

He’d been studying a lot lately.  Way too much, but he had finals coming up.  She shouldn’t even be here, not really, not while he was working on such a time crunch with such a massive class load, but they hadn’t seen each other in a week aside from a quick lunch on Tuesday and a late night Facetime sexup the following evening.  It hadn’t been difficult talking him into letting her come over.

Or talking Pete into picking up the kids and taking them to the park so she and Jake could be alone for a couple of hours.  But he was running late and the kids were making a lot of noise, and now there was a drippy GoGurt tube incoming.

“Pete, come on.”

“Your wish is my command, Tatertot.”

“Geezus!!”

Her face went a bit warm, hearing that crude word pop out of her own mouth.  She’d been around Jake too much, he was rubbing off on her.

Rubbing off on her.

The alternate connotations of that phrase added more heat to her cheeks but thankfully Pete didn’t notice.  He was too busy grabbing her son up and tossing him haphazardly into the air, a horrifying habit she’d gotten used to.

“Sorry, runnin’ late.  Little girl, come on lets go!”  One huge paw came up to gingerly remove her son’s tiny fist from where it was twisted in his long unruly hair.  “Ew.  Is that GoGurt?  Better be blueberry, the cotton candy looks shit on me.”

Good old Pete.  If Jake hadn’t been the one to break the lock on her bedroom window - euphemism or no - things might have been a little different at this juncture of her life.  But Pete was a better friend than Jake would have been if the roles were shifted, and she was grateful for the big brash Viking’s helpful companionship.

Especially now.

“Take some frozen peas for the ducks.”

And then they were gone, and she was left standing in the doorway to Jake’s study room, looking at his broad back and swooning just a little bit over the contrast between his long dark hair and the light blue of his tee shirt as he hunched forward over his desk, deep in concentration that she knew didn’t come easy for him.

“You want to take a break?  Kids are gone, we could watch some TV.”

She knew he didn’t like TV, he didn’t have either the ability or the desire to put that much focus into something recreational after devoting so much effort into keeping his head on his studies.  He turned his head just slightly to the side, not looking at her, but acknowledging her presence.  “That show you like, they put the final season up.”

“Yeah?  Which one?”

He leaned back in his chair, stretching his back.  “That whack one about the preacher and the vampire.”

“You’re kidding?!  Want to start it?  I can call us in a pizza.”

He turned his chair to the left, coming around slowly to face her.  There was something dark and slightly wicked in the twist of his lips that shot a shiver through her.  “Do that.  I’m gonna finish this chapter and then I’m gonna Hulu and do you.”

“Ooh...and here I thought the whole Netflix and chill trend was going to just pass us by.  I mean...”  She took a step back, exiting the doorway, letting her hand stray purposefully toward the top button of her shirt.  “You’re always so busy with school and you have that personal vendetta against Netflix and all - “

“They sold Doctor Who to Amazon.  Fuck ‘em.”

“Well yeah, can’t disagree with you there.”

His eyes passed over her briefly, lingering for just a moment on her hand where her fingers toyed with the button.  It was enough.  Jake didn’t ogle, though there were times she wished he would as some sort of a courtesy warning shot before he made his intentions known.  There wasn’t a lot of preamble with him.  Straightforward and to the point, always.

Good old Viletongue.

She had no complaints.  Because she always knew where she stood with Jake.

But today...today she wasn’t planning on standing.

                                         ************************

He was bored already, she could tell.  He was a scientist at heart, which she found humorous - Captain Curseword, the filthiest-mouthed man she’d ever met, the guy who could take a toddler’s boardbook with eleven words in it and turn it into a foul diatribe so intensely crass it made you step away from him for fear of the wrath of God accidentally hitting you while aiming at him - this man was possessed of an analytical mind so sharp and detail oriented that anything shy of a scientific documentary lost his attention within minutes.  His chosen profession suited his intellect, the chemistry aspect of pharmacology more than enough to give his mind something to work on all the time, but it ran so counter crossways to the physical side of him that sometimes she found herself wondering if he’d been accidentally housed inside the wrong body at birth.

In fact, sometimes it seemed like he wasn’t quite human at all.

She’d thought him an angel once.

And then she’d slept with him and realized he was, in fact, a god.

A god that was about to fall asleep less than ten minutes into Preacher episode one season four.  She looked over at him, next to her on the couch with his head back on the cushions, those stormy sky blue eyes half closed while his fingers tapped out an odd little rhythm on the thigh of her jeans.  Likely typing a chemical equation of some kind, his brain’s stubborn refusal to shut down long enough to rest seeping out through the steady drum of his fingertips.

He was a confusing thing sometimes.  He was both the best kind of man and the worst kind of man...and what she needed right now was the worst kind.

Taking that busily distracted hand from her thigh, she moved it up to her chest and laid it palm-down over her breast.  Jake didn’t respond, but his fingers clenched slightly; she looked over to find he’d closed his eyes entirely, but the tiniest twitch of a grin was gently turning up the corners of that filthy, filthy mouth.

[lilchibi-chan]

Hear me out, hear me out. Kaminari and the reader (fem pronouns) on a rainy day doing whatever they desire (sharing an umbrella, dancing in rain, jumping in puddles, etc...) 💕🌧

I love this!!

Kaminari x Reader

Rainy Day scenario 🌧

Today, you and the Baku and Dekusquad were supposed to head out to a waterpark. Sadly, the weather had other plans and it was going to be raining all day. You were so excited to go to the waterpark today and were completely bummed about the weather not being on your side. There were only a few days left of summer vacation and you wanted to make the most of it while you could. You wanted to continue to make memories and have fun with your friends. 

You were sitting in your living room, flicking through channels, trying to find something to watch since you were up early and you knew there would probably be nothing on tv. As you’re aimlessly flicking through channels, you get a text from Denki.

“Hey, go to your door. There’s a surprise waiting for you outside”

You get up from your seat, confused as to what it could be.

You open the door to see Denki standing there with a big smile.

“Hey there, sunshine,” he says smiling

“Denki, what’re you doing here,” you ask confused

 “Well sunshine, since we can’t go the water park, I figured we can have our own fun here,” he says walking into your house

You smile at him

“Why are you doing this Denki,” you ask smiling

“Because sunshine,” he says turning to face you,”I made a promise that you would have the best day today and I don’t go back on my promises”

You feel yourself start to blush and look down at the floor. Denki comes over and lifts your chin with his finger.

“Don’t hide that face my beautiful sunshine nugget”

He pulls you into the living room and you both sit on the couch. Denki looks out the window and he gets an idea.

“Hey sunshine nugget, since we can’t got to the water park, what if i bring the water park to you?”

“Huh,” you ask confused 

He laughs

“Just put on your bathing suit and meet me outside”

When you get outside, Denki is standing there in a tshirt and swim trunks, he set up a sprinkler and a slip n slide.

You stood under the awning in your backyard in disbelief.

Denki grabbed your hands and started spinning around with you in the rain. You both start laughing uncontrollably and he starts running towards the sprinklers, you following suit.

He then grabs your hand and starts slow dancing with you. He twirls you around and you start smiling really big.

He pulls you back into him.

“Do you wanna go inside? It’s getting kinda cold,” he says

“Sure,” you laugh

You both head inside and Denki sneezes.

“Are you okay” you ask

“Yeah, just a little chill. I’ll be fine” he says with a thumbs up, reassuring you

“You sure,” you ask concerned

“Yeah and even if it is a cold, it’s worth it. I would do anything to see you smile, hear you laugh. You deserve to be happy everyday, my buzzy beautiful sunshine nugget,” he says smiling

You almost cry at how thoughtful and sweet he is being in this moment.

“I’m so happy I chose you Denki,” you say

“I’m the luckiest guy in the world, y/n. I wanna show you everyday how much I appreciate you and keep that smile on your face”

He kisses your forehead and then you tell him to go take a bath in the guest bathroom, so that he doesn’t catch a cold and you head to your room, which has a bathroom connected and take a bath too.

You spent the rest of the afternoon watching movies, switching between netflix and Hulu. The sun finally came out at six and you got to see the sunset.

Denki and you said your goodbyes and he made his way to the train station. You watched him walk away until he was out of your sight.

Hope you liked this. I loved this idea!! Thanks so much for requesting as always 💖

[siutforjjmaybank]

TH peter parker x reader

inspired by that one euphoria scene

warnings sexual themes angst fluff peter being a king

pete<3

im here

y/n ❤️❤️

ok the door should be open

Peter walked into your room after talking to you mom for a bit. “hello love.” he said with a smile and kissed your temple. “hey pete.” you said getting up and stuffing your face into his chest to inhale his homey scent. he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin upon your head. the two of you swayed back and forth. “how was your day?” you asked although it was muffled from you face in his jumper. “dont even get me started y/n!” he groaned as he walked over and flopped onto the girls bed “you know i was the top of my class and mr stark knows that but he still doesn’t let me do anything.” he said as you walk over to him and straddled his waist. “that sucks baby” you whispered as you left kisses under his sharp jawline trailing down to his collarbone stopping ever once in a while to suck and leave a mark. you take hold of his hands and place them close to you core. “I’ve been thinking about you all day, I want you.” you said as you leaned in to kiss him. he took his hands from your core and stopped you. You gave him a look of confusion “why do you always make everything so sexual, im trying to have a real fucking conversation with you right now.” he says seriously. your face drops, does he want to break up, have you pushed to far, has he never wanted to have sex with you he just went along with it. “oh..” you said as you got off of him and sat on the other side of the bed looking down. “im sorry” you said sincerely playing with your fingers, something you did when you were uncomfortable “hey come here.” he said as he put his hand out to touch your thigh. you leaned away. “im going to go get a drink” you said standing up and walking through the door. “shit” peter said with his head in his hand. “fuck” you said leaning on your island in the kitchen. you swallowed the lump in you throat. looking up to the light hoping that your tears would go away. “Shit!” you said as you hit your head with your hands. you were such and idiot. did you really thing he liked you he probably just felt bad for you. You got your drink then went back upstairs. you walked in your room to see peter looking at you as you turned on your tv and went to netflix. you went to hulu and turned on American Horror Story; a show you and peter had been watching togethe. you sat down on your bed not even close to touching peter. he looked at you with hurt in his eyes. he didn’t mean to hurt you he just wasn’t in the mood. “im sorry.” he said to you truthfully. “no it’s my fault i shouldn‘t of forced myself onto you.” you said staring into space. hoping this conversation would be over. “no baby come here.” he said as he pick you up and brought you over to sit on his lap and look at him in the eyes your eyes started to water and you let out a sob. Peter quickly held you into his chest stroking your hair. “shhh i know i know shhh” he coos. you let out another sob “i ju-just thought i-i-. its what everyone else wanted i thought it’s what you would want to..” you blabber. he looked at you and feels his heart breaking as you speak. “No y/n no baby awh im so sorry people have made you think that. i love you not your body… i love your body too. Oh my god your body is perfect your body is-” he rambles being cut off by you “shut up pete.” you giggle “yes ma’am.” he laughs kissing you

[greenygreenland]

If I Were You: Fives x Reader Pt 2

-pt two. Here’s part 1

Summary: It’s been half a month since Fives first appeared in your room. He’s settled into your home because he knows there’s no way of getting home. Everything is peaceful, and you find comfort in each other. Your parents come home today, and you have to find out a way to hide him from them Warnings: Borderline abuse (very brief), mentions of abuse/violence, pressure from school, COVID-19 mentions, swearing

“--and then I slug him in the jaw and he’s so shocked that he can’t move!” You shake your head as Fives continues reminiscing about a short run-in with some ‘Separatist scum’. You can’t say it’s not entertaining when you yourself absolutely despise the Seps for what they’ve done during the Clone Wars. The guy definitely deserved it. Fives continues on for a while, telling his favourite stories about the 501st as he sips on the juice you’d given him earlier.

You eventually decide to move to the living room, where it’s much more comfortable than the kitchen. Picking up the remote and flopping down on the couch, you turn on the TV.

It’s still mesmerizing to Fives. He’s seen you scroll through Disney Plus, Netflix, and Hulu so many times, yet he can’t get over the amount of shows available. Sure, there was the holonet back at home, but that couldn’t ever compare to the media here. Everything was in colour, and it wasn’t as bulky as a holoprojector. 

Suddenly, you pause, hovering over the show Star Wars the Clone Wars. It’s written in giant blocky letters in yellow, so it catches Fives’s eye rather quickly. “Is that the show I’m in?” he lightly inquires. There’s a cold sensation in his gut, but he ignores it. You nod, mindlessly clicking on it. “I grew up with this show. It’s taught me more about life than anything else, really. When I was in a pretty bad place it helped me pull through.” 

There’s a soft smile on your face that Fives admires more than anything in the galaxy. It’s like an invisible warm hug, and it engulfs him in an overwhelming amount of happiness. A loud fanfare of...something (he’s never really known any instruments) bombards his ears, and he’s turning to the screen so fast that he could have given himself whiplash. 

Admiral Yularen’s voice fills the quiet space. He has to restrain himself from straightening up because it’s just a show. But that’s when something happens. He catches sight of himself on screen, saluting to his Captain and General. The screen freeze for a second, and it ripples like a hologram. The image of himself disappears, and then the TV goes static, flashing in a mixture of blues, grays, blacks, and greens. 

“This can’t be good.” he says, mostly to himself. You glare at the screen, randomly pushing the buttons on the remote as if it’d fix everything. It doesn’t and you know this, but you continue anyway as Fives’s gaze darts from you to the TV. A short sigh escapes your lips. “My parents are going to--” 

You freeze, cutting yourself off as a familiar rumble catches your ear. Fives hops to his feet as you drop the remote, silently making his way to the window just above the driveway. You follow him as he takes a peek behind the curtains. It’s silent for a moment and you know you hadn’t been mistaken. 

“(Y/n), are these your parents?”

“Dank ferrick.” 

Fives looks surprised at your colourful answer before smirking to himself. That’s soon wiped off his face as the front door knob begins to jiggle. You both lock gazes, eyes wide in terror. “You have to hide!” You turn off the TV and frantically knot your hand in his. And suddenly, you’re practically flying up the stairs with Fives in tow. You didn’t even know you could run that fast, but maybe that was because you knew your ‘fight or flight’ had been activated. 

You throw open the door to your room and slam it behind as the front door opens. Fives is scurrying into the closet as you scramble to stuff whatever evidence of his existence into his arms. He tosses his sweaters, trousers, and shirts (you bought with your own money) as deep into your closet as he can. You flick off the lights and open your curtains wide. 

Fives shuts the closet door. You whip out your laptop and a few notes from your physics class, neatly spreading them on your desk along with a few highlighters and pens. 

“(Y/n)!”

That’s your mum. She sounds almost glad to see you. 

“(Y/n), come downstairs will you?” 

You turn on your laptop, flipping to Google Classroom as if your life depended on it--and it certainly did. Once it’s open, you stand from your desk and walk downstairs, putting on the brightest smile you can. “Hi mum!” you call. She smiles at you, covering up a cough as she removes her shoes. “I’m sorry we’ve been gone for so long. Your father’s been busy, and I couldn’t leave him in Chicago all by himself. You know how it can get there.”

The smile is wearing on your face and you know it. Your mum is a kind person, she’s always been, but because of that, she tries to hide her sickness from you. She’s been sick for a while, but she wouldn’t tell you why. Of course, that didn’t stop your father from telling you. He said it was cancer, but your mum replied with, ‘It’s the common cold’ instead. 

Speaking of your father, he emerged from the door. You didn’t need to look at him to know he wasn’t too happy. “Hi...dad.” you quietly say. Your mum puts a hand on your shoulder and that seems to bother him. “What are you doing down here? Go study. You’re not going to be a doctor if you aren’t persistent.” You frown in confusion. “I thought you wanted me to go to MIT--”

“You’d be more useful as a doctor than a mindless computer addict. Maybe if you had skipped a few grades, then you could have found a cure already.” You wanted to be offended, but a voice inside your head made you keep your cool. It wouldn’t do anyone any good if you fought fire with fire anyway. 

There is no emotion, there is peace, you think to yourself with a sigh. Your mum notices, and she gives your shoulder a good squeeze before beckoning you upstairs. You turn to her as she tensely smiles and comply, quietly going up the stairs. You hear someone flop down on the couch, probably your father, and ice shoots up your veins. 

Panic blinds you as you race up the last few steps and dart into your room like you were being chased by a lightsaber. 

It doesn’t take a genius to know what happened. You hear him shout your name and you lock the door behind you. Fives slowly opens the closet door. You can feel his worry as he frowns, and you can’t blame him. Your father sounds beyond angry. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought someone had robbed him. 

“(Y/N)!”

You visibly flinch and Fives decides it’s high time he comes out of hiding. He’s suddenly by your side, locking your hand in his. “You’re shaking.” You look down at your hand weaved between Fives’s fingers with a mindless shrug. “I’m,” your voice wobbles, “fine. It’s going to be fine. It’s--it’s fine. It’s fine.” 

“They’re not going to do anything to you, right?” Fives inquires. You meet his gaze with teary eyes. No words come out of your mouth, but he doesn’t need any to know what you’re thinking. 

The door rattles. You flinch at the shout from the other side, instinctively taking a step back as if it’d help you. “Fives, Fives...” You’re looking at him again, silently pleading for the help you didn’t even know you needed. You had always been alone. Always. No one had been by your side until Fives came along, and it’s then that you begin to realise how bad your situation is. 

He gives your hand a comforting squeeze that makes your knees go weak. “They can’t hurt you.” His tone is firm yet gentle. “Not if I have anything to say about it.” He makes his way to the door. It’s still rattling as he unlocks it, and then it bursts open as your father shouts again. The last time Fives had seen someone this angry was when the General had gone on that Zyggerian mission. The mere mention of the word ‘slave’ had sent the Jedi into an inferno anger that no one could calm. 

But this puny simpleton? 

His anger wasn’t as terrifying as his General’s. Fives couldn’t feel a single ounce of fear as he stared the taller man down. He looked about ready to murder Fives, but that wasn’t the least of his concerns. The man jabs a finger at his chest and Fives has to resist smacking it away. “So not only has my sad excuse of a daughter broken the TV, but also smuggled in a goddamn boy while we were gone!” 

You watch as your father raises his arm, recoiling to ready a punch. Your eyes widen, and you almost have the nerve to feel bad for him. It was never a smart idea to pick a fight with an ARC trooper--much less a soldier like Fives. 

Your father growls, “I’ll kill you both!”

It all happens too fast. Your father throws a punch, Fives catches it, and then it goes deathly quiet. He’s seething as your father trembles in his dark glare. “If this is how a family functions, I’m glad I only have my brothers.” The temperature seems to drop ten degrees with each word he stresses. “It doesn’t matter what happens, no one, and I mean no one should be treated like this. It’s downright abuse. I won’t stand for something so kriffing wrong.” 

This is a side of Fives you know but haven’t witnessed off-screen. He had been like this with Krell, and even though the situations varies from Umbara, his emotions aren’t any different. “Sure, the TV’s broken, but you haven’t even heard why it happened! What kind of father goes around and threatening to kill his own daughter?” 

Your father tries to storm past Fives, but he only tightens his grip on your father’s wrist. “Don’t try it.” 

Your father tries anyway. He whips out a knife--a knife-- and aims for Fives’s neck. Of course, Fives is quick--quicker than the shows give him justice. He dodges, swiping a leg under your father before pinning him down under his knee. The knife falls from your father’s hand and Fives is pulling both his arms behind his back. It’s not enough to hurt him, but it sure does scare him. “Let me go you fucking psycho! You’re gonna pay!” 

Fives looks like he wants to say anything, but he doesn’t, and you know it’s because he’s so baffled by your family dynamics. He hadn’t known any brothers who would do that, and he was glad too. “Oh I’m ‘gonna pay’? I think you’ll have fun taking that to the authorities. What number are you supposed to dial in these situations?” he inquires. 

“Let you go you goddamn--!”

“911.” you quietly answer. “But are you sure?” Fives nods and glances at your phone. You snatch it off the table, tapping the emergency call button and dialling the number. 

-------

Your mother stares at the police car as Fives shamelessly interlocks his fingers with yours. The cars drive away, the lights glimmering in the last light of day. You catch a glare from your father, hardening your stare on him until he begrudgingly turns away. Fives looks rather pleased, but there’s a hint of disturbance on his face. You know the mere idea of family against family riled him up, but he’s good at hiding it anyway and puts on a smile for you. 

Your mother walks up the front stairs of the house, arms crossed as if she’s hugging herself. She turns to you and Fives, briefly glancing at your interlocked fingers. You’re expecting her to say something. Instead, she studies your face and smiles. It’s a bit rough round the edges but full of so much love. 

“What is your name young man?” 

Fives glances at you before turning to your mum. “Fives, ma’am.”

“Fives?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

She doesn’t know what to say, so she stays quiet for a moment. “Is there any way I can thank you?” He turns to you, and then your mum. You seem to know what he’s thinking and give his hand a squeeze in support. “Uh, if it’s not too much trouble, is it okay if I stay here ma’am?” 

“He doesn’t have any family in the area, and it’s not like he can go anywhere with the pandemic.” you smoothly elaborate. “Can he stay mum? Please?” 

Your mum smiles again as if she knows something you don’t. She has something in her pocket that she glances at before eyeing you and Fives. “Of course he can stay. After all, you two are made for each other.” You’re about to ask what your mum means by that, but she’s already walking back in the house. 

And so you look to Fives, who giddily smiles in reply. He knows there’s no turning back now. It’s not like he can return home anyway, which isn’t something he isn’t unhappy about. Without warning, he leans towards you, planting a kiss on your cherry, red lips. He pulls away rather quickly, cheeks red. “Wow, never done that before.” he nervously admits. You snort, ignoring the racing of your heart. “Why don’t we try that again?” 

After all, you two are made for each other.

You smile at your mum’s words and kiss him again. Your heart continues to slam against your chest, and you’re still not sure if you’re doing it right, but it doesn’t matter because you know you two were meant to be. 

PART 3

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Get Real Angry: Interrogation, Final

CW: Institutional brutality, whump of a minor (in the form of a video Jake watches), beating, electric shock, very vaguely referenced past/potential noncon, violence in response to self-soothing stimming behavior, referenced familial abuse, sleep deprivation, creepy whumper behavior

The final part of Jake’s interrogation during his very bad week. Tomorrow I hope to get his reunion with Chris written, and then Jake’s first day back in class after that, and then we’ll return to your regularly scheduled comfort programming now that this little mini-narrative is out of my head!

To understand the frat guy reference (a reference to @deluxewhump‘s Alex), please read this piece here.

INTERROGATION: PART ONE PART TWO

Tagging @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @stxck-fxck, @slaintetowhump

When Everly wheels the TV in - big and blocky, on a little metal wheelie cart with a squeaky wheel and rust spots along the frame - and settles it in front of the chair Jake has been encouraged to sit in, Jake is reminded, bizarrely, of a movie he saw a few years ago.

Weird arthouse movie about a guy that takes another guy captive and his boyfriend or whatever tries to hunt him down, they watched something on a TV in an old house… shit, what was it called… Jake’s head hurts, throbs with a kind of foggy ache, and he closes his eyes, head drooping just slightly.

He could drift off just like this, with his wrists still zip-tied, his shoulders screaming pain at him. Since waking up at the sound of the cops banging on the door, sleep has been a twenty-minute nap here and there, as long as they’ll let him drop off, slumped in his chair, forehead resting on the table in the interrogation room.

Everly left for a while, he assumes to get some fucking sleep. They’d set up some kind of weird blaring alarm system that went off while he was gone, going off every hour or so, waking Jake up. His head feels weighted down with the fucking need for sleep. 

Once his eyes close, he can’t quite seem to force them open again. God, he could, he really could fall asleep now, with Everly staring right down at him. Rescues talk about it, about curling up on the floor, covering their eyes with their arms to try and find the tiniest bit of darkness in the unending white light, just… drifting away into some kind of doze and fuck, what he wouldn’t give for a real nap right about now-

There’s a slam, palm on metal table, rattling it, and Jake jerks his head back up, staring wide-eyed up at the handler, breathing in harsh pants. Everly’s not even wearing his stupid fake cop uniform anymore. He doesn’t even try to hold up the pretense.

That’s how Jake knows - for sure this time, not just a hunch - that that camera in the corner by the ceiling definitely isn’t turned on.

Wanted to contract you but I was overruled. Jake’s bloodshot exhausted eyes stare up into Everly’s calm, almost pleased flat gray, and he shudders. It’s a thin line between protecting people who need help and being turned into one.

He kind of wants to send a thank-you card to whoever decided he was too much trouble to abduct.

“Wake up, sunshine,” Everly says, pleased as can be, pleased as punch Jake’s nana would have said, when he was little. Tiny little old southern woman, genteel beachside accent, sweet tea on the table, Sunday dinner, what happens between you and your husband is your business, Maggie. Jake shudders, all over.

When you run from a man who won’t stop hurting you with your kid in tow, you have to run from all the people who just can’t give enough of a fuck to help you, too. 

“Pretty-… pretty sure sleep deprivation is torture under th’ Geneva Conventions,” Jake mumbles, forcing his head to stay up, his spine as straight as he can make it. Leaning against the back of the chair helps, but shit, what he wouldn’t give-

That’s how it starts, Jake. You think you’d give something up just to sleep, and then they take that, and take more than that, and eventually there’s nothing left.

“Probably,” Everly acknowledges with a careless shrug. “But you’re gonna have one hell of a time proving you were here and not just the unfortunate recipient of a beating outside a bar or whatever the fuck you do in your free time.”

“In m’free time,” Jake slurs - weird how being this tired has made it harder to move his mouth, even, “I mostly feed homeless people. Not… ‘zactly a violent hobby.”

“Weird how that happened to you, then,” Everly says brightly. He picks up a remote on the cart and starts pressing buttons. The TV powers on with a sudden flash of colors and Jake winces as the light hurts his eyes, blinking rapidly, trying to focus. 

It’s harder than it should be. Everything is harder than it should be. He’s not even sure he could stand up on his own any longer, his legs feel like noodles precariously balanced on top of concrete blocks. 

“No… no folder t’day?” Jake asks, staring as the menu pops up. Smart TV, of course it is. He stifles a laugh at the sight of the little Netflix icon, Hulu, Amazon Prime. “Y’watch a lot of, of fuckin’ TV when you’re torturin’ innocent people?”

“Shut up, it belongs to the police station.” Everly chooses an app off to the corner, something called KINECTREMOT, the letters dancing and refusing to settle as Jake tries to read them. Does it start this way, with the rescues? Does it start with it just getting harder because you’re tired, and then one day the letters start to hurt?

Or is there something else, to that? Something to the training the rescues can’t explain, maybe don’t even remember?

No, Kauri remembers. Kauri’s head is a fucking mess but he remembers more of training than any of the others seem to be. Maybe that’s why his head is a mess. Jake groans, trying to focus, to think.

Everly’s humming to himself, a soft little tune on his lips, as he inputs a login username g.everly@wru.com and a password that just shows up as little circles. He fucks it up the first time, has to redo it. Jake holds back a snort.

“Y’tired, too, huh?” He asks, false sympathy dripping from his tone. “Real tired? Wanna schedule us a fuckin’ naptime, man?”

Everly glances back at him, then leans over and grabs Jake by the back of the head, casually slamming his forehead into the metal table, listening to Jake’s cry of pain with a faint grin on his face, then jerking his head back up, to look into exhausted, foggy light-colored eyes. “Have some fucking manners, Stanton.”

“Fair ‘nough,” Jake slurs, head pounding with pain, slumping to the side. “Can I please request a fuckin’ nap, sir-”

“No.” Everly goes back to humming, tries the username and password again. Wrong again. Jake wonders if he fucks it up again, if he’ll get locked out. Since this is clearly meant to be some kind of dramatic reveal, the idea strikes him as funny. Not just funny, fucking hilarious. Jake starts to giggle, unwillingly, almost helplessly. Big tough guy can’t figure out his fucking password for his Big Villain Moment. It’s funny, right? It’s really fucking funny, and shit, he’s so tired the glint of light off the table and the little spot of blood from his head, smeared across, seems funny because it’s like looking at clouds, what shape is this? and Chris on the grass bouncing up and down on his feet and saying it’s it’s it’s a kangaroo, Jake, it’s a kangaroo, in Australia they call them roos, they just say, say, say say say roo I saw a man on TV he said, said roo, he just said roo and that cloud looks like-

There’s a flash of pain, impact of palm across bruises that have already blossomed dark on his face, and Jake grunts, jerking to the side, somehow managing to stay in his seat. 

“Stop laughing. Stay quiet.” Everly narrows his eyes, tries one more time to put the password in. This time it works and the screen flashes black with the KINECTREMOT logo across the front, a soft chime of sound.

What he’s looking at now, Jake doesn’t really understand. Some kind of inbox, but for pictures and videos. They’re all labeled with six-digit numbers, a long list of them, with the words PRIMARY, SECONDARY, TERTIARY next to each one. Not always the same word. Some of them say one thing, some say another. Some of them just say CALL IN or EMERGENCY.

Everly chooses a search bar option and starts painstakingly entering a number, and Jake stares, dumbly, wondering what the fuck he’s looking at, but with a sick certainty that he really, really does not want to know.

Everly’s still humming that stupid song, and Jake realizes why it’s sticking in his head, now. “Are y’… are y’humming Hotel California?”

Everly stops, blinks, looks over at him, genuinely baffled. Then he laughs, a rumbling sound. Jake hates that fucking smug piece of shit’s laughter. “I guess I am. Hadn’t noticed. It was playing on my way from the hotel this morning. You like that song?”

Jake stares at him, as evenly as he can, his eyelids trying to droop down, body desperate for sleep. “Used to.”

Everly chuckles again. “Yeah, it’s overplayed. Anyway… here we go.” He’s picked one number out - 223499, it doesn’t mean anything, and next to it he reads PRIMARY/SECONDARY and what the fuck does that mean? A long line of little thumbnail images pop up, with labels next to them. INTAKE, ISOLATION DAY 1, DAY 2, DAY 3. 

The drop in Jake’s stomach gets worse. He feels almost nauseous with fear - not for himself, exactly, but for what he knows he’s about to see. “Wait, wait-… what are you-”

“Shut up, Stanton.”

“No. No, I, I can’t-… what are you goin’ t’do?” Jake looks up, bleary, frightened now. Everly just smiles back down at him, that smug fucking shit-eating grin, and Jake pulls hard on his restrained wrists, feels a flash of bright agonizing pain as the plastic, caked in two days of dried blood, reopens the raw wounds. He grunts at the ache, but everything from his shoulders down has hurt like hell since day one.

“You know, I requested authorization for injectables, too-”

“What th’fuck are those?” 

“It’s pretty obvious from the name, I think. Got overruled on that one, too. Fuckin’ higher-ups worried about traceable compounds and shit. I mean, I get the concern. We can’t keep you long enough for that shit to get fully out of your system. But it would’ve made getting to watch this part a lot more fun.”

Everly selects a thumbnail, and the screen opens up - it’s like some bizarre fucked-up snuff-film take on a Netflix episode choice, with the thumbnail suddenly blown up to a larger size and a small description next to it. Someone made a computer program for this, Jake realizes with an even sicker drop in his stomach. Disgust ricochets around his body. Somewhere, at some point, someone built a computer program designed to let these assholes show him a video of… of what?

223499 - CONTRACT SIGNING he reads, just as Everly pushes play.

“Why show me this?” He asks, in nearly a whisper. “D’you… d’you think this is gonna make me not want to, to help?”

“No, I think you won’t break today, and today’s all I got. Give me a week and a white room and I’d have you taking food from my fingers, but sadly, our time together nears its end. Here’s what I can do, though. I can show you something you can’t ever prove. And I can watch your fuckin’ face the whole time. I can get you all riled up, all angry, and send you home with that bitterness just roiling around inside you.”

On the TV screen, Jake sees a small table in a blank room. No pictures on the walls, no decorations at all. Just a small table, two chairs, one on either side. Sitting in one chair is a woman in a suit - everything about her screams lawyer. Behind her, leaning against the wall, in a prim pantsuit, is a woman Jake has seen on TV before, that Renford bitch. 

Antoni walked into the room when she was on TV once, turned around and walked out, and didn’t come out of his room for the rest of the day. Kauri flinched when Nat had to wear heels for a meeting and came walking down the stairs. 

Jake knows pure soulless evil when he sees it, and there it is, looking bored.

There’s another person, too, mostly hidden by the shadows in the corner, but there’s something weirdly familiar about what Jake can see of him, something he can’t quite place. He’s wearing a pastel-colored polo and light slacks, weirdly fussy looking, like he’s dressed in case he ends up on TV.

Which, Jake guesses he kind of did.

They’re chatting - the sound of it too low for Jake’s tired brain to parse into words he can understand. Just easy, comfortable talk. Coworkers chit-chatting about their weekends, waiting for the day to start. Lawyer’s got a mug of coffee in front of her, takes a sip. It’s normal inane corporate chatter and these are people who do unimaginable damage to other peoples’ lives and they don’t feel a fucking thing about it.

“I won’t get what I want today. But I think I’ll see what I’m hoping to see on your face - and I think you’ll go home with something stuck in your head that you can’t get out.” Everly moves around behind him, stands with his hands on Jake’s shoulders, rubbing thumbs in like he’s giving him the world’s most painful backrub. Jake grinds his teeth together to keep from making a single sound. His eyes want to close, to look away, but there’s some sort of fascination that keeps his eyes glued to the screen.

He’s always wondered what the contract signings are like. The rescues never remember them.

There must be some sound - everyone kind of shifts around in their chairs, straightens up, and the lawyer pulls some papers out of a small folder in front of her, slides them across to the other side of the table in front of the other chair, sets a plastic pen down next to the paper. Fiddles with it, shifting it back and forth minutely, until it’s perfectly parallel.

A door behind the empty chair opens, and Jake stares in perfect horror as Chris is shoved into the room, a man Jake doesn’t recognize behind him, wearing the handler uniform and prodding Chris with a black stick.

He’s so… small, isn’t he?

Jake rarely thinks about how small Chris really is. In the video, he’s hunched over, his hair looks weirdly clumpy. He’s wearing a loose white V-neck T-shirt that’s way too big for him, like it’s oversized or they just couldn’t be bothered to get him one that fit. His knees stick out from under a pair of thin black shorts.

“Oh my God,” Jake whispers. His heart feels like ice in his chest, the cold is spreading through his veins, right to the tips of his toes in his sneakers, now bloodied like everything else he was wearing when they dragged him in here two… three? days ago.

Thumbs dig into his shoulder blades and he hisses, jerking forwards away from the pressure. “Recognize him, huh?”

Jake sets his jaw. “I recognize that you’re a fuckin’ monster piece of shit-”

Everly grabs his head and slams it down on the table again. Jake goes limp, groaning at the spark of white-hot pain, little spots in his vision even with closed eyes. Then his head is jerked back up. Motherfucker really likes walking the head injury line. “Watch. The. Video.”

“This… this won’t make me any less angry,” Jake manages to force out between numb lips. “None of it will.”

“Good. Then you’ll fuck up. The angry ones always do.” Everly grabs his chin from behind him and forces it forward. 

On the screen, Chris is sitting in the previously empty chair now, the handler’s hand on one shoulder, thumb rubbing back and forth across the back of his neck. He’s shivering so hard Jake can see it in the slightly blurry video, looking around at everyone. There are deep visible shadows under his eyes, and Jake watches the way he sits, with his hands sort of between his legs, can tell from the tension in his arms he’s gripping onto the chair. “Wh-why am, am, am, am-”

“Fuckin’ broken record,” The handler behind him says, a man Jake has never seen, and smacks Chris hard against the back of the head. He jerks forward, whimpering, and Jake would give anything to be able to crawl into the screen and save him.

There are tears in his eyes he has to blink away, but now that he sees him he doesn’t want to miss a second. He’s so little, even though he’s almost the same age he is now. Being in that place, with those people, makes him seem so small, so deeply in need of protection. He’s so fucking scared and none of them even care.

“No one mentioned a stammer,” The man in the corner says. His voice is familiar, too, it sounds like it’s tailor-made for TV. Smooth as silk, with something rotten hidden underneath. “I’m not interested in a fixer-upper, Karen.”

“I’m not selling you one, either,” Renford replies, and Jake’s hands curl into fists behind his back. “He hasn’t been trained yet. No one starts training until they sign.”

“What…” Chris - not Chris, not really, this is whoever he was before he became Chris - flinches and looks backwards up at the handler, as if checking for permission to speak. Jake swallows back bile when the handler nods, and Chris looks back forwards again, his gaze jumping all over the room. He doesn’t seem to see the man in the corner at all, and Jake squints as he realizes there’s some kind of one-way glass along that area, angled so the camera sees everyone, but he’s pretty sure Chris can’t see the man. “Who’s… talking?” 

His words are slurred together and deliberately, carefully spaced. 

He talked like this when he first arrived at the shelter, for days after. Flat, meaningless syllables dropped and run from, certain he’d be hurt if he made a single sound that wasn’t allowed.

“Not important, trainee,” The handler says. “Pay attention to what is important.”

“Yes, um… yes, yes, sir,” Chris says in a low, weak voice.

“Bet you’d like to commit murder right about now,” Everly says from behind him.

“You’d win that bet,” Jake growls.

“I always fuckin’ do.”

“What, um-… what’s happening?” Chris asks, softly, looking around the room.

“This is your consent form,” The lawyer says, tapping a fingernail on the paper between them. Chris winces, slightly, hunching back into the handler’s touch. “All your information is there as provided by your adult guardian-”

“Joanne? Aunt Jo?” Chris is looking around, confused, blinking. “But, but, but but she… she, I’m supposed to, to live with her now-”

“Not anymore, you’re not,” The handler says, with a laugh.

“What, what, what-what, what, what does that-”

The handler hits Chris hard across the back of the head again, and he bites down on his lower lip and goes silent. 

“You’d have gotten her an even higher payout if you didn’t talk so fucking much,” The handler says, grumbling, like Chris is the problem here.

Chris’s expression collapses from a nervous, frightened curiosity to an awful well of pain and grief. “Gotten her, her, her a what?”

The lawyer ignores him and keeps speaking. “… and your legal identification, confirming that you’re overage-”

“But, but I’m not, I’m, I’m n-not, I just turned, uh-” Chris is struggling, and Jake wants to climb into that screen and hold him, calm him down, help him slow his mouth to find the words. Chris’s eyes are wide, and his fear can be read, oddly foggy and dazed, like he’s operating on a slight delay. “I just, just just just-”

The handler behind him grips the back of his neck, like a man grabbing the scruff of an unruly dog, and Chris’s voice cuts off like turning a radio dial. 

There’s a moment of silence where Jake can hear his harsh, panting breaths.

“What did we talk about, ‘499? About lying?”

Chris’s hands come up onto the table, tapping on it, not loud enough for Jake to hear. “N-not, not, not to lie to you, but-but, um, but but but I’m, I’m not-”

“Stop that shit with your hands. Now.”

Nothing visibly changes but Chris goes quiet again, staring straight down. His hands stop moving. His shoulders are hiked nearly to his ears and Jake wonders if the handler holding him by the neck tightened his grip. 

“How old are you, trainee?” The handler asks the question heavy with loaded double-meanings, obvious enough Jake can read them. Give the right answer or get hurt. 

“Eighteen,” Chris whispers, with wide scared eyes. Everyone in the room seems satisfied with the blatant, obvious lie.

“Good. And is that the legal consenting age?”

“… yes.”

“Good boy.” The handler pets heavily through Chris’s hair, and the boy shudders in disgust - Jake has never seen him react to touch like that, not from anyone. Just one more sign of a person that’s been totally erased. 

“Pl-please, please don’t, please don’t-don’t, don’t touch me-”

“That’s not an option available to you any longer,” The handler says, pulling the black stick from his belt - and Jake knows what those are, he knows exactly what those are, he’s had one raining down on his back and his ribs and his arms now, had one stuck against his knee to force electric shock into his nerves. He wants to push back, but he’s so, so tired. “Your options are to take the touch as it’s given and thank me for it, or…” He taps the black stick on the back of one of Chris’s hands. The boy’s hand jerks back, but when the handler tsks, clicking his tongue against his teeth, Chris lays the hand slowly back out on the table.

“Why would you ever tape this?” Jake asks, barely aware his mouth is moving.

“Lunchtime entertainment,” Everly replies, blithely. The two of them watch as Chris says something, but there’s a strange rushing sound in Jake’s head and for a second, he’s so… furious… that he can’t even hear. All he can do is stare, the rushing sound drowning him out, and then the black baton comes down on his fingers and Jake cries out, as Chris’s mouth opens in a painful wail, as he tries to pull his hands protectively back to himself only to have them forced back onto the table again.

And hit again.

And again.

And again.

Jake’s going to be sick all over the floor if it goes on any longer. 

The man who has been watching, hidden in the corner, laughs at the sight. He laughs harder, louder, when the handler forces Chris to thank him for the pain. 

It’s his laugh that Jake recognizes, finally. It’s the laugh that turns him from shadowy and familiar to a face that Jake’s seen on TV a dozen times or more. Jake has protested his speeches on the human pet industry, has written essays on the complicity of government in human atrocities with this very man in mind, but when he was thinking of complicity he was never, ever thinking of this.

“You sold him to the fucking Governor?” 

No wonder he’s so fucking cozy with WRU. They sold him a goddamn teenager for a personal toy-

“Took you long enough.” Everly pats him on the head, good dog, and Jake jerks away from the touch, thinking of Chris doing the same - and how he pushes into every touch now, good or bad, can’t tell the difference. Has to be told, over and over again. How many days without letting me sleep would it take to get me to give in like that? “Watching you watch this… you know who that kid is. You’ve seen him before. Lie to me or don’t, your face gave it all away. Our informant told us you’ve been bringing a kid who fits the description to your classes.”

Oh, God. The raid was my fault.

On the screen, Chris is signing the contract, hands shaking, the handler’s palm still laying flat against the back of his neck, over the heavy black collar he has around his throat. 

“Just a homeless kid,” Jake grinds out, staring at Chris’s terrified shadowed face. Watching as he’s dragged back out, stumbling, with the handler’s grip iron-tight on his thin arm. Chris was tapping in the video, Jake thinks. He tapped before, that’s part of him, not something he picked up. Did he hit his head, before, too? “Could’ve been him. Wouldn’t know. He left.”

“Different story than where we started when I brought you in,” Everly remarks. He puts a hand on the back of Jake’s neck. Rubs his thumb, back and forth, just at the nape where skin and soft, short hair meet. 

Just like the handler in the video, with Chris.

“Who called?” Jake asks, holding himself very, very still under the touch. He’s seen Antoni go like this, he thinks - just holding himself like a statue, his eyes straight ahead, not looking. When he has a bad night and spends the day on edge, when any little thing sets him off. “Who told you it was us?”

If it was that fucking frat guy - he’s in one of Jake’s classes, he’s probably seen him with Chris, could even have seen him doing yoga over on the grass, could have seen them in the coffee shop or eating lunch in the big seating area, anywhere, really - Jake will hunt down which frat he’s in and personally set the whole goddamn house on fire, starting with that asshole’s bedroom-

“A Professor Gregory Barnham,” Everly says. The words mean nothing to Everly. They mean entirely too much to Jake.

“My fucking Ethics in Political Philosophy professor?” For a second, his brain just refuses to reconcile what he’s been told. He’s been careful in that class. He’s kept his head down, stayed quiet, and the professor never told him not to bring Chris and the professor has smiled at Chris. Said hello. Nice guy, if definitely not super into the pet lib thing, and Jake had been so careful, bringing Chris in the back, keeping him carefully separate from the other students. 

Not careful enough.

That son of a bitch saw Jake with a kid who was slowly coming out of his shell and he thought, better call WRU on this one. Better have that kid all fucked up again.

He’s probably not going to go back to that class. He’s probably going to fail it. He’s probably going to spend the next week convincing himself not to light the professor’s house on fire, and feeling like he kind of owes Frat Guy an apology for assuming the worst.

Sorry, dude, you trusted my intentions enough to be fuckin’ vulnerable about your shitty fucking fraternity buying a fucking preson, I decided to repay the favor by assuming you’re the asshole who could have gotten my family killed-

Jake doesn’t think about calling them his family. The word doesn’t even register in his tired mind. It’s just there, the foundation of the thought.

“Why tell me who called in?” Jake asks. He can’t figure out this guy’s angle. He’s giving Jake too much information, isn’t he? Showing him Chris’s video, the contract signing of an underage kid, the fucking governor the one apparently buying him… telling him who called him in… why give him all of this? Why give him all this information?

He’s too exhausted to try and outthink him. He… just doesn’t get it. He needs three days of sleep and probably some serious medical attention at this point, and he can’t even begin to try and think through this until he gets at least one of those things.

“Already told you, numbnuts.” Everly lets go of him, and Jake breathes a sigh of relief as he steps away. “I’m making you nice and angry. Go on, Jakob Collins Stanton. Go be the face of the fuckin’ movement. I can’t wait to see your fuckin’ dumbshit expressions on TV. Go on, Stanton. Get real… fucking… angry.”

Jake sees the black baton unhooked from the guy’s belt in the corner of his eyes, and his muscles tense, but he doesn’t move. 

“Why tell me it was the Governor?” He asks, but the baton is already swinging at his head. When it connects, Jake’s head smacks forward into the metal table, he drops to the ground, and everything goes black.

He wakes up and the metal table and chairs are gone. The TV and its little wheelie tray are gone. The zipties on his wrists are gone and his shoulders scream as he pulls his hands forwards, looking at how deeply the plastic dug in. His head is pounding, throbbing, and he feels even more exhausted than he did before.

He cries, for a while. There’s a cop in the room who doesn’t stop him or help, just kicks a box of Kleenex across the floor.

Eventually they tell him he’s been charged with resisting arrest, but that his bail’s been paid. No one tells him but he sees a calendar on his way out, limping heavily, walking in bloodstained jeans and T-shirt looking like he lost a fuck of a fight, and realizes he’s been here for three days.

Chris has been alone for three days.

Any hint of pain Jake is feeling is washed away by the panic that takes its place. Chris can’t handle being alone that long. He needs touch, needs it, the constant never-ending compulsion for human contact that all of the ones like him have. Who even knows what he’d do - go next door or let anyone who knocked in or, shit, just start testing people, like he does, and that could get him hurt or killed or taken advantage of or-

Unless Nat…

“Uh, um,” Jake stumbles over his words, and the cop glances at him, dismissive. “Natalie… Natalie Yoder. The woman with me. Is, is she… was she let go before me, or…?”

The cop gestures ahead of himself, and Jake raises his eyes to see Nat sitting on a bench with a vaguely familiar man that Jake has never actually spoken to before, although he’s seen him watering flowers outside his yard. He looks like some kind of cowboy. 

Natalie looks like hell - rings around her eyes and a few bruises littered across her face - but he can tell he looks worse, because both she and the man who lives across the street from the shelter recoil when they see him.

Natalie jumps to her feet. “Jake, what the hell-”

Jake walks to her, as fast as the cop will let him, and nearly collapses against her, resting his head on her shoulder. She puts one hand up over his hair on the back of his head and the other around him, holding him tightly. “I resisted arrest,” Jake says. “Apparently.”

“Yeah,” Nat murmurs. “Me, too. Jefferson here’s our neighbor, he’s come to take us home.”

“Is… everyone safe, there?” Jake asks, low-voiced, just above a whisper. 

“We’ll talk in the car. Come on, we’re all paid up, they’re ready to sign off on us going. I… didn’t know about your dad, Jake.”

Jake stiffens and pulls away from her, looking away. “Yeah, well. I didn’t know about your job history, did I? We both kept secrets.”

There’s a silence, long and uncomfortable, broken only by the sounds of the department around them - people working at computers, talking on phones, chatting over coffee. It makes Jake think of the lawyer in the video, sipping her coffee before they dragged a teenager in to sign his life away, watching with a passive, uncaring expression while they beat his hands with a baton.

“Guess we have some things to talk about in the car on the way home, huh?” Nat says, trying for cheer. When Jake responds with silence, she sighs. “Fair enough. I should have told you.”

“Yeah. You should have. I have some other stuff to tell you, too, about who called-”

“I know,” Nat says, heavily, rubbing at her eye with one fist, looking oddly like an exhausted toddler. “They told me. That landscaping company that works down the street.”

“Wait.” Jake frowns, looks around. No one’s really looking at them, now. “Wait. I got told it was one of my professors.”

“You did?” Nat hesitates. “Then they gave us two different stories, Jake. So… which one is true?”

“If you ask me,” Jefferson says, in a soft, unobtrusive voice, “probably neither of them. Come on, we can continue this little guessing game in my car, yeah? I’ve laid down some towels, I had a feeling you might still be, um… bleeding… like that.”

They leave the police station in silence, Jake sitting in the backseat of Jefferson’s ancient Subaru, beat half to hell but the thing’s still running, somehow. All he can think of is getting home to Chris, keeping his promise. 

“Look,” Nat says, after they’ve sat in silence other than Jefferson’s quiet NPR playing from the car’s radio. “When I started the job-”

“Not yet.” Jake cuts her off, and his voice is harsher than he means it to be. His eyes have closed and he’s not sure how he’ll ever open them again. “Chris first.”

“You know, your, um… Chris is really doing fine-” Jefferson starts.

“Don’t care. I don’t want to think about anything else just yet.” Jake’s face throbs. His head feels like it’s stuffed full of cotton dipped in acid. His shoulders ache, his wrists look like they’ve been wrapped in razorwire, one of his ribs is probably bruised, he knows his torso is a fucking mess of black and blue, he’s exhausted and starving and pissed off and all he can think about is that fucking handler saying, go on, Stanton. Get real fucking angry.

What does it mean that they want him to be? And if they gave he and Nat two different stories about who turned them in, which one is true? What if neither of them is? What’s their plan? Or is there one? Maybe they just want him to get paranoid and freaked out, see if he stumbles, fucks it up. Maybe this is all just to get him wondering exactly who is out to get him.

Maybe Everly just thought it’d be fucking funny to get him all worked up.

He can’t think about this now. He’s too tired, he’ll only make the dumbest fucking decisions if he tries.

No, he just…

He just has to get home to Chris.

Keep his promises, first. Figure out everything else after that.

Told you I’d come back for you, man. 

Jake thinks of the boy in the video, asking about his Aunt Jo, the look of crumbling sorrow in his face at their reply.

I made a promise to you, and I’m going to keep it.

But I am definitely real fuckin’ angry.

[thekingsfortress]

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

Waiting for the right time

Word Count

3464 Words

AGERE JANUS JUST CUZ WE NEEDED MORE!! THANKS!!

Also this is my first Agere oop, please be nice ^^

Proof reading- who's she never heard of her-

It had been a long week for Janus, he had to calm down Patton from his little rampage, he had to try and convince Roman that he wasnt all that bad, which didn't work at all, and on top of it, he revealed his name.

At the moment he kinda regretted sharing his name, he wasn't ready to share it, not at all, however he felt it necessary to get thomas to just listen to him, and lo and behold, it worked! However, because he made himself so vulnerable, he left himself wide open to Romans laughter.

He knows he shouldn't have said what he had said to him, he knew how insecure the other got, but he couldn't help it, the other just mad him so angry!!! He felt like he needed to protect himself... but- but.. he ended up hurting the other.

He knew he should go and apologize... but he really didn't want to, the other started it so why should he Apologize first!

He shakes his head, holding it in his hands, he had to stop thinking like that... he knows that if he kept it up, he would end up regressing.. he can't afford to do that, it was too soon after the video, he had to make sure no one would come for him.. he also really didn't wanna.. he was always too lonely when he regressed, it's not like he could help it, he knows if he told the others.. they would just laugh.. just like how they laughed at his name.

Janus sighs, glancing around the room, trying to find something to focus on so that he wouldn't lose himself to his other half. He hears a knock on his door and gets up, going over and opening it.

Staring at him was the light blue side everyone knew as Patton, Janus hums, he can't say he didn't expect a visit from the light side, he knew sooner or later the other would come, he WAS basically accepted by Thomas now, so it was only time before the dad side decided to pay him a visit.

Janus tried to keep his composure and looks at the light side, clearing his throat, "good evening Patton, what do I owe the pleasure for such an intelligent, like minded individual such as yourself to come visit a dark, visious, evil, side like me?" He questions, plastering on a smirk.

"You aren't evil Janus" Patton says, using the sides real name, making said side flinch just a bit, he was definitely going to get used to that.

"Ahah, alright, whatever you say, however, you still haven't answered my question" Janus rolls his eyes a little, glancing at his gloves, his thumb picking at his fingers just a bit.

"Oh, well I was wonderingggg if you would like to uhhhh- join in on movie night with me and the others!" Patton grins happily.

Janus's eyes sparkle for a small second, movies!!! With the light sides! Did that mean candy and popcorn and- wait no! Stop!!! You clearly can't join if you are going to be like this!!!

Janus shakes his head for a bit, not noticing the concerned look on Pattons face, "kiddo?" The fatherly side questions.

Janus's head snaps up at the nickname, confusion on his face, Patton had never called him kiddo, not even once! He awhs a bit, he felt his chest swell up with joy at the nickname, but he pushed that aside, "what?" He questions.

"Is something wrong?" Patton asks, "you looked a bit dazed out when I asked you to join.. you seemed happy at first but then just stopped?"

Janus curses under his breath, "I-I'm fine, it's nothing, I just have a few things I need to get done with.."

Patton pouts a little, "awhhhh! You can't even spare one night?" He asks

"Nope! Too much work, I'm sorry Patton but this is a matter between life or death!" Janus nods to himself, forcing himself not to giggle at that little statement- damnit! That sounded too kiddish!!!!

It did make Patton giggle though, "okay kiddo, just know you're welcomed if you want to come okay?" He asks.

"Yeah, I know... now go watch your movies" Janus rolls his eyes, smirking a little.

Patton beams and nods, leaving the room and running back up the stairs to the light side.

Contrary to the light sides belief, Janus could hear all their voices, all their happiness, it made him feel every bit lonelier.

Janus bites his lip, maybe he can.. indulge his urges just for a tinyyyyy bit, but only a little!!!! And only cuz a side already talked to him! He doubts anyone else will come to see him again for the night.

Janus goes over to his nightstand and slides it a bit before pulling back a floorboard and pulling out a tiny box, he opens it and pulls out his plus snake and coloring books, he doesn't have anything else.. he can't summon much things like how the others can..

He does have a snake onesie though!!!! The thought of his snake onesie just makes him really really excited, he lets out little giggles and runs over to his closet and reaches to the far far back, he pulls it out and smiles.

The little one struggles to take off his clothes, whining a little, he does eventually get them off, however, trying to pull the onesie on was a totally different problem.

You see, Janus has been repressing his headspace for way too long, and when he finally decided to indulge in it this time, he slipped really fast, and not only that, but he slipped to a very young age, making him struggle immensely.

The bab sniffles, whining, he was really confused, which hole went where. He ended up guessing a few times and had ended up getting it on, although not zipped. It took him probably 10 tries just to get the onesie on. The zipper still remained down though, he tried zipping it but it got stuck! But.. it wasn't that bad, at least he got most of it on.

He goes over to his coloring books and grabs the strawberry shortcake one, he then grabs his 120 pack of crayons and his snakey and lays on the floor, he begins to color while listening to the others laugh from upstairs, from inside his room.

Janus slowly brings a thumb to his mouth, whimpering quietly, he sniffles a little, he wanted to be with the others, but he knew the others wouldn't accept him, they would just laugh at him..

The child tries to focus on his coloring book until he's finishing coloring his page, he smiles when he finishes and holds it up giggling, he gets up, ready to find someone to hang it up on a fridge.. before he realized, oh yeah.... he didn't have anyone...

He heard more laughter coming from upstairs and felt tears well in his eyes before he rubs them away, he gotta be a big kid, he couldn't bother the grown ups, they'd only get upset at him, he didn't wanna make them upset..

Janus gets up, thumb properly positioned in his mouth as he goes over to the tv, he turns it on like a big boy and ploped back on the floor, grabbing the controller, he looks at the pretty colors of Netflix and Hulu, he knew which colors associated with which and picked Hulu, it had Henry hugglemonster on it!!!

Janus giggles a little and plays the show, holding his stuffed snake in his arms and singing along or more like babbling along to the tune. After about 2 episodes of that he gets up, he was hungry... but he knew he couldn't go out... cuz if he went out, the others would know.. unless he bes sneaky! Maybe he can have icecream!!!!

Janus makes it his goal to be sneaky and get nummy icecream, he gets up and makes his way to the stairs, when he looks up however, he becomes a bit scared, it was so far up.. what if he trips and falls?

B-But.. But Icecream-

Janus bites his lip and takes in a deep breath, for the honor of icecream!!!!

He starts to climb the stairs, holding his stuffed snake tightly in his arms, trying to be as quiet as possible, occasionally putting a finger to his lips as if the snake could make any sound.

Once he makes it up the stairs he quietly opens the door, happy that it doesn't make a sound, also happy that the kitchen is just right there.. though.. that meant the living room was right there too..

Janus bites his lip, maybe he couldn't get icecream.. b-but maybe he could get oreos!!!! Oreos are the second best.

Keeping his giggles down, the boy moves fast to try and get oreos, the only problem was that he didn't know where they were and if the lights had them in the first place.

Janus starts with the bottom cubborts, being extra quiet, holding his snake tightly, crawling from cubbort to cubbort, but all that was in the bottom cubborts were pans and sink supplies an dumb stuff like that.

The mentally two year old pouts before looking up, giggling quietly before covering his mouth, he looks at the couch to see if anyone heard but no one turned their heads.

Alright!!! Time to continue with his plan! He climbs onto the counter shakily but also trying to be quiet, thankful that the movie the light sides were watching was really loud.. at least to him.. his ears were sensitive. So he thought that just because it was loud to him it was loud to the others to.

And yes- he did gotta climb on the counter, he was the shortest side an couldn reach, shuddup.

The boy pulls the cubbort open quietly, finding no oreos which made him pout quietly, he went to another cubbort and pulls it open, and no luck, he whines quietly, feeling his tummy rumbling, lip trembling, there was no oreos and there wasn't anything good to eat...

Janus pouts a little ready to give up till he sees one more cubborr he hasn't opened, he goes over to it, still standing on the counter and opens it quietly... wellll... theres no oreos button

There isssss Crofters!!!!

Janus gasps excitedly, maintaining quiet and grabbing the jar, he doesn't have difficulty opening it as it had been opened before it seems. It was definitely still a new jar, barely eaten out of, well until the mentality 2 year old sits on the counter, eating it with his bare hands.

The others didn't even notice that Janus was in their kitchen until Logan got up and was going to call it a night, when he seen dee eating HIS crofters, the others were quick to look where logan was looking.

Janus wasn't paying any attention to the others, he was just eating the yummy jam stuff, it was really really nummy.

Logan was furious, he makes his way over to the snake side, "hey!" He calls, scaring the life out of the bab who dropped the jar out of fear, making it shatter all over the ground.

Logan gasps as he sees the jar drop, he looks up even more angry, "what do you think you're doing!!! That was my crofters!!!" Logan exclaimed

"Logan be nice, you can share!"

"Not when he sticks his saliva filled hands into my crofters jar!!"

"Loga-" Patton starts, but stops when he hears crying, he turns to face the deceitful side, face full of shock, he did not expect this to happen.

Logan and Patton were now staring at a red faced crying Janus, it made both the sides super confused.

Virgil and Roman were also watching confused from the background, Roman a bit more frustrated that the side had came and ruined everything again!

Patton suddenly takes notice of the others attire and the plus he was holding close, listening as the boy sobs out i'm sorries.

Patton suddenly knows what's going on and so does Logan, suddenly feeling very very guilty.

Patton goes over to the child, and gently rubs a hand through his hair, "hey Jan?" He questions quietly

The sobbing child doesn't answer, trembling with the fear of getting caught and the fear of getting in trouble, he was still saying sorry over and over.

Patton quietly gets down to the others hight, even though he was sitting on the counter, patton may be the second shortest but he still was a few inches taller then jan.

"Sweetie, its okay, hey hey, in 4, hold 7, out 8, remember buddy?" Patton asks, also tapping out the pattern on the others back just in case.

Janus sobs still, but he can feet the pattern on his back and knows what to do, he inhails for 4, holds for 7 but it breaks off of 8, he was about to sob harder until patton gave him a quick assurance.

"You're doing good buddy, can we try that again hon?" He asks.

Janus nods quietly and tries again, and after a few minutes, he's doing alright, theres still tears falling down his face, but at least he wasn't panicking.

Patton smiles softly. "There we go buddy" he says gently, "do you wanna tell me what happened hon?" Patton asks in his best caretaker voice he can muster, usually Logan was the one to do this with him, but he feels like Logan wouldn't be the best at this at the moment.

"Got scawed" Janus slurs over his words sniffling, rubbing at his eyes.

"Why's that buddy?" He asks again.

"Got cawght and was bein bad" he sniffles.

"Aw kiddo, you weren't being bad" Patton says gently, running a hand through his hair.

"Uh-huh! I stow wogans cofters!" He exclaims, his little voice showing.

"Well that is a problem isn't it" Patton says making Janus nod through tears, "but I'm sure Logan can forgive you can't he?" Patton asks, looking at Logan who was watching the scene with guilt, not realizing he was being spoken too.

"Can't he" Patton nudges him, making his eyes widen, he nods, "O-Oh yes, Janus, I apologize for frightening you, it was not my intention, however, next time you want to steal my crofters, you could just asks" Logan says.

Janus looks up at him then at Patton, "M' Not in twouble?" He asks.

"Of course not! It was an accident kiddo" Patton says gently.

Virgil and Roman were watching the whole scene in confusion, why was Janus acting like a little kid? Why was Patton and Logan not questioning this? What was going on?

"Um.. Padre?" Roman calls after clearing his throat.

Patton looks over at him, "whats up kiddo?" Patton asks, tilting his head.

"What is going on? Why are you treating deceit like a kid?" Roman asks both his and Virgils questions.

Upon realizing that Patton did treat him like a kid, Janus awhs, did he know, was he gonna tell them.

"I'm afraid I can't answer that, Janus will tell you when he decides to, I'm sorry kiddos" Patton says, glancing at the boy behind him, looking at the older with awh.

Virgil looks at Logan who shakes his head, the two decide to drop it and face back to the tv.

"I think Logan and I are going to head to bed kiddos, you two don't stay up long now okay?" Patton asks

"Yes Pat" both Virgil and Roman answer.

Patton turns to Janus then to Logan, "Lo, can you clean up the glass while I go clean Jan up?" He asks

Logan nods, "sure Pat" he says, smiling softly.

"Hey Jan"

The boy looks at him, hugging his stuffy tight, getting jam all over it.

"Can I pick you up buddy"

He nods and even makes grabby hands to Patton.

Patton smiles and gently picks him up, he didn't know what he was expecting, but he was definitely NOT expecting Janus to be so light, was the boy eating right? It just added to the list of concernes he had for the other.

Patton brings the other upstairs and into the bathroom, "can you stay here for a bit kiddo?" Patton asks.

Janus looks up, he nods a little, Patton runs to his room and grabs an oversized tee and some shorts for the other, he then bites his lip, he didn't know if the other needed them, but he decided to bring them just in case.

Patton comes back to see the boy still sitting where he put him, Patton smiles, "look at you" Patton chuckles, making the younger giggle.

Patton then runs the bath and puts bubbles in for the younger, he knew that he himself liked bubbles so he assumed the other liked bubbles as well, and he was correct in his assumption, after asking the other for permission to give him a bath, the other had ended up having a giggle fit with the bubbles, he absolutely adored them, making himself a fake beard and other things, Patton even gave the baby a few toys to play with.

He was definitely overjoyed, he didn't even realize when Patton had cleaned him all up, except for his hair, when patton said to close his eyes.

Yes he was sad to get out, but he was also very tired.

"Hey Jan sweetie, I never asked before, because it was a bit chaotic, but how old are you hon?" Patton asked.

Janus held up 2 fingers but then looked at one, he held up 1, not quite sure, he was about 1 and a half now, and Patton smiles softly, he assumed the other might be on the younger spectrum, he smiles, "wow, such a big boy!" Patton smiles, makimg the little giggle happily, rubbing his eyes.

"Now Jan, I have another question for you buddy" Pat says

Janus whines quietly, he was getting tired, "I know, I know, but uh.. buddy, do you wet the bed at nights"

Janus flushes a little a whines, but he nods slightly.

Patton gently rubs his back, "its alright bud, its okay, you don't have to feel bad about it, its totally okay, I'm just going to need you to wear a diaper bud" Patton says gently, earning another whine of protest.

"I know, I know, but we don't wanna wet the bed do we?" He questions, with that thought in mind, the boy shakes his head no, making Patton smile in sympathy, "alright buddy, lets get you changed then" Pat says gently.

Pattom had to lay Janus's other pajamas to go to the washer, and thankfully Janus's snake was easy to clean without having to go into the wash, Patton would hate to hear the boy cry again, he's already been through so much In one day.

Patton changes the boy into the clothes and diaper he brought just in case and hands him his now clean snake and smiles, he picks up the boy, and holds him tight, but not too tight.

Logan was coming upstairs right as Patton came outta the bathroom with Jan in his clothing.

Logan smiles sympathetically and the child, noticing what he was wearing, though he pretended not too.

"How was bath time?" He asks both of them.

Janus snuggles against Patton titedly while Patton smiles softly, "he had quite a journey, although I think its time to put the little one to sleep" he says, smiling at the side.

Janus was already half asleep by the time Patton said those words.

Logan smiles softly, "seems so, we should go lay him down in his room" he suggests.

That seemed to wake the bab up just a little as he starts sniffling, "noooo!!" He whines quietly, hugging tightly to Patton.

Patton smirks, "you heard the boy, he said no so no's the answer" Patton chuckles.

Logan rolls his eyes and chuckles, "alright, your room then Pat?" Logan asks.

Patton nods, "my room" he says

They both walk to Pattons room, Patton lays Jaus in the middle while he gets on the right and Logan on the left, it was the first time Logan and Pat had company, but they found that they didn't mind one bit, especially when it was an adorable little snake just wanting some cuddles.

Janus obviously stayed more against Patton during the night, but during the days to follow, and the more he regressed, he found that he didn't mind Logan either, only time would tell when he would tell the other too, but for now, he only wanted his two caretakers, and one playmate.

The end

[kitkatwinchester]

On September 13th, 2005, a new show made its debut on the WB. It was about two brothers whose lives were flipped upside down the day their mother was murdered by a demon. It had a small budget, a small cast, and a small crew, but the people involved were dedicated. They wanted to do everything they could to make sure the story of Sam and Dean Winchester was told. They wanted to show us the true power of family in the darkest of times. Little did any of them know just how much of a legacy they would create, and just how much of a family their following would come to be.

I was four years old when Supernatural first came on the air. I had no concept of any show beyond Blue’s Clues, Lazy Town, and the Disney Channel. I was a smart kid, but a kid nonetheless, and Supernatural just wasn’t something I was ready for. As I grew up, Supernatural achieved milestone after milestone. It made it through the channel change to the CW. It survived a writer’s strike in its third season. And in April of 2010, it hit its 100th episode milestone. As it neared the end of its fifth season, Eric Kripke’s original storyline had been told, and it seemed as if the show would end, then and there. But it didn’t. Instead, it continued beyond its originally scheduled timeline, taking on a new showrunner in its sixth season and continuing for years after. And in 2011, in the middle of said sixth season, it finally made its way onto my radar.

Tenzin Tsekye and I have been best friends for fourteen years, so we’ve spent a lot of time together. We’ve had hundreds of sleepovers, shared a million memories, and watched thousands of shows and movies together. So when, at one of our many sleepovers, she suggested that we watch an episode of something called “Supernatural”, I trusted her. She knows what I watch, she knows how I am. I was bound to like it. Except there was one problem. She insisted on watching this one episode that she really liked (Family Remains) that was smack dab in the middle of season four, and I was not having it. I told her that we had to start from the beginning. I didn’t know anything about this show, so how could I possibly watch an episode in the middle of its fourth season? It wouldn’t make any sense to me. She kept assuring me that it didn’t have anything to do with the main plot (a concept I now know as “Monster of the Week”), and that I would love it. But I wasn’t convinced, and I was persistent. I told her that if we weren’t going to start from the beginning, I wouldn’t watch it at all.

We argued about it for at least an hour, and finally, I backed down. I said that we could watch the season four episode only if we went back and watched the first episode afterwards. She agreed. After we watched Family Remains, she stuck to our agreement and we watched the pilot. And then we watched the second episode. And the third. And the fourth. And my entire life was changed forever.

It still baffles me to this day how close I came to never starting Supernatural to begin with. I thank Tenzin all the time for being so stubborn on that night. Who knows what my life would be like today if she hadn’t been? Looking back, it’s hard for me to picture a time before I started watching Supernatural--so much so that pinpointing when, exactly, it became the obsession that it is today is near impossible. But what follows is a rough timeline of events based on the major things I do remember.

Tenzin and I never wound up watching the rest of the show together. Instead, I brought the show up to my dad. It took a while, since we were both pretty busy, but by the next year, Supernatural had become our new thing. I was a busy middle schooler, so it was often hard to fit in watching more than one episode on the days we spent together, which meant it was slow-going for a while, but we did our best. Luckily, the fact that we weren’t binging it all at once meant that we were able to avoid a lot of the cliffhangers, (which, looking back at it now, makes me feel very lucky), and it gradually became my favorite show of all time. By the time Season 9 was on the air, in 2014, we had caught up on all eight seasons on Netflix, and I was hooked and ready for more.

We didn’t have cable, so instead, we watched every episode a few days after they aired once they came on Hulu (I didn’t learn about cwtv.com until much later), and it was at this point that I really started to dive into the fandom. Now that I was caught up, I was able to look up fandom content as I pleased without worrying about spoilers. I guess you could say this is when the obsession truly kicked in.

As I came up on my teen years, Supernatural became my life. I started requesting even more Supernatural merchandise as birthday gifts, Christmas presents, and everything in between, and I would wear the gifts I got anywhere I could. Within a few months, I discovered the world of fan fiction, and within a year, I grew confident and excited enough to start writing my own. I started watching video compilations not just of the show, but of the cast--behind the scenes videos, bloopers, convention videos, and so much more. I joined Facebook groups about the show and finally started interacting with other fans, making all kinds of friendships along the way.

On top of that, as the tenth season came to a close with no signs of the show stopping, my mom finally caved in to my babbling and excitement and started watching the show with me. We started back at the Pilot (which, for me, was probably about my fifth re-watch at that point), and we made it all the way to about mid-season five just as the eleventh season was getting ready to air.

And then a truly amazing thing happened.

For my 16th birthday, that same amazing mother bought me tickets to the Supernatural Convention in Chicago.

To put it lightly, I was excited. Very excited.

On the weekend of September 9th, 2016, just a week before my birthday, I got to meet the Supernatural cast for the first time. And that convention experience was one of the best things that has ever happened to me.

When we were on our way to the convention, I was really just excited that I’d finally get to meet these celebrities--these HOT celebrities--that I’d seen on the big screen for the last few years. At this point, they were basically idols to me, and even having the chance to see them in person was the best thing I could’ve asked for. But when I got to that convention, I was hit with something even better than I could’ve hoped for.

I say all the time that the SPN Family is a different fandom than any other. There’s a special feeling throughout our fandom that, as someone who is in multiple fandoms, I have not been able to feel anywhere else. When I try to explain that to people, nobody gets it. Even my mom, when I first started talking about it, kind of shrugged it off like it was nothing. But when we got to that convention, she felt it too. The air is different. The second you walk into a room of fellow Supernatural fans, you feel comfortable. You feel welcome.

That first convention, my mom didn’t really come with me to the panels. She took some photo ops with me, but being as far behind as she was, she didn’t want to spoil things for herself too much, so I spent the majority of the convention by myself, at a mere fifteen years old. But I never felt scared or alone or apprehensive. I made friends immediately. The people I was sitting next to, the people I stood in line with, basically anyone I came in contact with struck up a conversation with me, and it would end with Facebook usernames, Twitter handles, or even phone numbers being exchanged to contact each other in the future. It was insane. I’d never been in an environment like that before, and I loved it. And the openness didn’t stop there.

When it came time to meet the actual members of the Supernatural cast, they were just as kind and wonderful to talk to. At every panel, the guests were so eager to interact with fans, and many of them even stepped off the stage to come say hi to fans who were in line to ask them questions. Even the three main stars, Jensen, Jared, and Misha--who had to stay on the stage for security reasons--did everything they could to bond with fans and make them smile or laugh, and it was beautiful. And that transcended beyond the panels.

That Sunday, my mom and I had a photo op with Jensen and Jared, and let me tell you, I was crazy nervous. I mean, these were huge celebrities and people that I really looked up to, and I was about to get a photo with them. Plus, Jensen was my very first celebrity crush and all-time favorite actor at the time (he still is, to be honest). The whole thing was crazy nerve-wracking.

After standing in line for a bit, it was finally our turn, and as my mom and I stepped up, and I turned to Jensen to tell him what we wanted for the photo, I completely froze up. My brain told me to say: “We want to do a squishy hug photo.” But what came out instead was something more along the lines of “hug please photo hug?” To say the least, I was blushing with embarrassment for several hours afterwards. But despite my nerves and fangirling, Jensen just smiled at me, and he gave me a little chuckle, and said: “sure thing, sweetheart”, which, of course, made me fall apart even more. Nonetheless, the photo happened, and at the end of it all, Jensen gave me one more reassuring little rub on the back, plus a second hug and a last smile before we headed off and away from the duo.

It took me hours to process the whole thing, but at the end of it all, I was so happy and relieved.

Jensen could’ve been cold. He could’ve given me a weird look for freaking out so much. He could’ve even just done the picture and gotten it over with. But he didn’t. He went the extra mile to make sure I knew that my nerves were okay, and they were understandable, but that he wasn’t judging, and he was okay with it. And that really says something.

After that, I went to a convention every year (excluding this year, for obvious reasons). I’ve been to four conventions in all, and every single year, the experience has only gotten better, because I’ve gotten more confident and comfortable around the actors--all because of that special energy.

In 2017, I was picked to sing karaoke with several of the actors from the show...on stage...in front of a huge crowd of Supernatural fans. For those of you who know me pretty well, you know that I have terrible stage fright when it comes to singing in front of people. I get super nervous, and the nerves just get higher with bigger crowds. But that night, to my surprise, I was great. Not only did I sing the classic “Wanted Dead or Alive” in front of hundreds of people, but I got to sing and dance with some of my favorite actors--and I was confident about it. When I was on that stage, dancing with the actors and singing with the fandom, I felt good.

It wasn’t until long after I was done that it hit me what had just happened, and I couldn’t believe it. All of my years of performing in theater productions and talent shows, and I had never been as confident as I had been on that karaoke night. I still have the video on my phone, and I smile at it in disbelief every time I watch it.

My confidence only grew from there. In 2018, I decided to submit to the convention’s fandom music video contest. I spent many hours and many days putting together an edit for Team Free Will 2.0. I was super particular about the timing--beats had to hit scene changes exactly right, lyrics had to line up with the scenes being shown, and I really wanted to tell a good story. When I finally finished the edit, I showed it to my dad--who’s been doing films his entire life--to get his opinion, and he was super impressed. Even though he had stopped watching the show around Season 11 (luckily, my mom was caught up at this point, so she and I were able to watch it together), he really loved what I had done with the edit. (He actually wound up loving it so much that he asked me to edit several projects for him later, including a music video, film production, and theater trailer, opening a door for me in life--one I never would’ve found without Supernatural.)

I submitted it to the Denver convention, and months later, when I was finally able to attend said convention in August of 2018, I was nervous, but excited. As my convention experience went on, I kind of forgot that I had submitted an edit, instead enjoying my time with my new Supernatural friends, the actors, and, now that she was caught up, my mom. But on the third day, they announced the winner, and to be perfectly honest, I didn’t hear what name they said, but we all kind of assumed that it hadn’t been me, which was a little disappointing, but I didn’t let it get me down. But then, while I was talking to my friend, I heard the tell-tale notes of the opening of “This is Me”--the song I had used for the edit--and my head whipped to the screen faster than it ever has for anything. Sure enough, in the #1 spot, was my music video edit.

Needless to say, I kind of lost my mind. I ran up to the front to claim my certificate--including the gift certificate for $100 of Supernatural merchandise--and couldn’t stop jumping up and down. And my friends that I’d made at the convention that year were jumping right along with me. It was a beautiful moment.

By the time the 2019 Chicago convention rolled around, I had grown really comfortable with the whole cast, crew, and fandom, and 2019 was one of my best experiences yet. I submitted another video edit and got second place. I sang the Ghostbusters theme (Hillywood style, of course) with a friend at karaoke night. I even managed to ask every actor a question at their panels without stuttering, even bantering back and forth with a few of them. At autograph tables, I managed to have full-fledged conversations with some of the actors, and at my photo op with Jensen and Jared, I actually told both of them exactly what we wanted to do for the picture without stuttering over my words.

In any other fandom, I don’t think I would’ve been able to do that. But the actors and the fans make that entire convention so comfortable and easy to get through, no matter how nervous you are, and that’s one of the many things I love about this show.

Sadly, though, there was also something else that happened in 2019.

On March 22nd, 2019, Jensen, Jared, and Misha made the announcement that all Supernatural fans were hoping would never come. On Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, and everything in between, Jensen Ackles said the words we’d all been fearing: “Though we’re very very excited about moving into our fifteenth season, it will be our last.”

I was in Europe when I found out--Barcelona, to be specific--and to say that the news put a damper on my vacation would be an understatement. I was in tears, and I know many of my fellow Supernatural fans were too. This show had always struggled with ratings, but it had always pushed through, hitting milestone after milestone. So when the news finally came that it would be coming to a close, after a whopping 327 episodes, it shocked us all.

But even knowing it was ending, the cast, crew, and entire fandom were quick to note that it would never be far away. While the Winchester brothers would take their final ride in (what was supposed to be) May of 2020, it didn’t mean that the fandom would die. While news spread from actors to fans to, frankly, the entire world, we all rallied together, knowing that, as Jensen put it so well, “the show might end, but what it has built, this will never end”.

So we prepared for the end. I did my ten day countdown leading up to the premiere, and as the cast counted down each of their lasts on social media, we counted down each of our lasts watching the show.

And then 2020 happened, and everything changed. COVID-19 shut everything down, including production on Supernatural, and with only two episodes left for the cast to film (plus four that still needed post-production), it looked like Supernatural wasn’t gonna be able to end after all. They aired the completed first thirteen episodes of the season, and then it went on hiatus. I think, at the time, a lot of us were worried. What if something happened? What if they weren’t able to finish? What if, after fifteen years, the show had to be cancelled because of a pandemic?

But Supernatural’s never given up, and the pandemic was no exception. For the cast and crew, this was just another obstacle in the long line of obstacles that Supernatural has made it through over the years. And in August of 2020, Jared and Jensen went back to set--along with several other actors--and finished the Winchesters’ long legacy. And on October 8th, 2020, Season 15.5 began airing on the CW, and our long goodbye to a show we’ve all loved for years started all over again.

And now here we are.

I’m sure you’re asking me why all of this matters. I just gave you a complete rundown of the Supernatural timeline from the day I started it, and I haven’t even gotten to the point. So, here’s my point.

This is what my life has been for the last nine years. I was eleven years old when I finally discovered Supernatural, and now I’m twenty, and my life has changed so much.

Supernatural has taught me things that no other elements of my life possibly could. It’s brought out parts of my personality that I never would’ve discovered otherwise.

Supernatural has made me who I am today.

Supernatural has gotten me more involved on social media, even going so far as to create my own content to share.

Supernatural has influenced other things I watch. Now, I try to find shows, movies, and even books that have some of the same themes as this show because I love them so much.

Supernatural got me connected with GISH, which helped me feel more comfortable going out of my comfort zone and being a little (okay, a lot) weird.

Supernatural made me proud to be a fangirl, giving me the chance to express my interests publicly and feel free from judgement.

Supernatural gave me some amazing new friendships, and strengthened the relationships I already had with friends and family.

Supernatural brought out my creative side. From fan fiction writing, to photo collages, to video editing, this show has given me more ways to express myself than I ever could’ve hoped, and it’s opened so many doors for me in the process.

Supernatural has taught me so many lessons and mantras that I will cherish and keep with me forever. Between never giving up, spreading love and kindness, knowing that family always has your back, and not being afraid to be who you are, the show and its cast have given me confidence and strength that I will never forget.

For those of you out there who still think that Supernatural is “just a show”, this is what I present. When I first started Supernatural, I thought the same thing. But over the years, it has become so much more to me than that, and I know that the entire fandom agrees.

With Supernatural ending, a small piece of everyone in the fandom is ending with it, but deep down, we all know that this show will always be with us, and the legacy it’s leaving behind is something that will never be forgotten.

Supernatural has been through a lot, just like it’s two main characters; but, like Sam and Dean, it has never given up, and it has saved so many people’s lives in the process.

I feel so honored to have been even a small part of such an incredible journey.

Thank you, Supernatural.

Thank you, Supernatural cast and crew.

Thank you for making your fifteen years in this world matter.

Thank you for teaching all of us what it means to be human.

Thank you for showing us that we can continue to fight for ourselves and others no matter what the world throws at us.

Thank you for making every single one of us feel special and worth something.

You have changed my life, and the lives of so many others, more than you can possibly imagine by teaching us all that we truly can “carry on”.

On September 13th, 2005, an era began.

On November 19th, 2020, that era will end.

But its legacy will last forever.

“No doubt, endings are hard. But then again, nothing ever really ends, does it?”

[justasparkwritings]

Codename Cupid: Chapter 13

Previous: Codename The Mochi of it All 

Pairing: Lee Euna X Min Yoongi, Lee Euna X Kim Seokjin, Jeon Jungkook X OFC

Genre: Angst, Secret AgentAU, AgentAU, Government Agent AU

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 2.2k 

Warnings: Swearing 

Summary: Lee Euna returns to identify a mystery man and put another name on the list. 

Justifying Jimin 

Present Day

          The light is a speckled mess as it attempts to stream through the stained-glass windows arched above the rattling glass below. The warping wood welcomes the reprieve from winter, early spring seeping in through the pollen in the air. I’ve been working with Lee Euna since around Christmas and she continues to pay far more than is necessary. I’m not complaining, upgraded computer, new camera, better security, I can now afford HBO Max and Hulu and Netflix at once. It’s wonderful, no scraping by. My savings account has even been growing, something I didn’t think would happen until I at least solved my first murder. Catching cheating spouses is lucrative, but not enough that I can afford rent in two places.

         The point being, bless Lee Euna and her money. I sleep just fine with it in my bank account. Though I’ve yet to determine if I’m sleeping fine because Jungkook’s holding me, pulling me into his orbit, securely protecting me from my deepest fears, or because I’m no longer stressed about making ends meet. Having him around… it’s stupid. It’s, I’m trying to work on valuing my feelings, all of them, and while I find romance stupid, it’s so comforting sleeping next to someone you care about. The way his lips slightly part, the soft curl of his breath, his hair cascading over his cheek, an arm always wrapped around me, or his hand holding mine.

         I don’t know what I thought it would be like, having someone consistently in my bed, looking out for me, caring when I let the cucumber turn to mush inside my refrigerator, asking if I’ve drunk all my water for a day or encouraging me to go to bed before 11PM. It’s an odd thing, falling in love with someone. I am, falling, I think, not that I’ve said as much. There’s a certain amount of pride, in keeping your growing feelings of adoration to yourself, of sorting them before sharing them, nurturing them in silence. I do hate how integral he’s become in my life… It hasn’t been long, but in the pit of my stomach, all I can feel is a growing blossom of hope, waiting to bloom.

         It’s an odd thing, knowing Jungkook is lying to me about something, and not being able to confront him about it. Sitting in my office, patiently waiting for Lee Euna, I’m staring at a list of facts I’ve written down.

         Taehyung and the mystery man know Jungkook, now I don’t know how they know him, or why, or if they’re old school friends or poker acquaintances. Jungkook doesn’t play poker, so maybe basketball buddies. Or lost friends from childhood, bonding over their heritage and shared experiences of hating their 4th grade teacher. The important fact is that they recognized him by name. The look they exchanged, the way their bodies shifted, it would be wild to have behaved that way and not know of Jungkook. There’s no possible way they could’ve been thinking of a different Jeon Jungkook.

         All these ‘facts’, lead me to a central question that I don’t know how I feel about, or what I’m going to do about, but it still remains: who is Jungkook?

         “Ms. Y/N, good afternoon,” Euna says walking through the door of my office. I glance at her and smile.

         “Good afternoon, can I get you anything to drink?”

         “Mm, do you still have that water I like?” She sits down, crossing her ankle behind the other and waits.

         “Yes, I do, Pellegrino, lemon or regular?” I offer.

         “Lemon please,” She responds, she only ever drinks lemon.

         “Here,” I hand her the bottle and watch as she patiently opens it, letting the few bubbles escape before placing her lips to the top. “I have good news, and bad news.”

         “Oh? Let’s start with the bad,” She’s curious, her brow lightly furrowing, concern in her eyes as they move across my desk looking for a sign of what’s to come.

         “I’ve found a few men who seems to know Taehyung. The problem, is that I don’t know who they are.” I tell her plainly.

         “Oh, that is a problem,” She sits back in her chair, brows creasing deeper.

         “I have photos and am trying to run it through the system,” I tell her, “But,          I don’t know if I’ll find anything. It was almost impossible to track down Seokjin, and I had to call in a favor just to get any intel.”

         “Can I see them?” Euna sets her drink down on the end table and leans forward. “Maybe it’s someone I know? That will make less work for you, right?”  

         “Well, that leads me to my next bit of news,” I inform her.

         “The good news?” She isn’t hopeful, I can tell from her tone. She should be hopeful, I mean, I’ve done a decent job in not a lot of time.

         “Yes, I found Seokjin and Taehyung,” I turn on the extra monitor and the photos appear for her to look at, hoping she can make sense of the mystery men. I prefer to use digital photos instead of the standard print, less chance of blackmail on the part of the perpetrator. It also provides additional income when someone comes back a year, or a few months later to get prints for their lawyers.

         In this moment, however, Euna isn’t nodding in contentment at my amazing photography skills, she’s in shock, mouth open, eyes wide.

         “Jimin,” She whispers.

         “Yeah! Is he the Jimin on your list?” I ask, confused.

         “He’s my brother’s fiancé,” She whispers, eyes scanning the photos of Taehyung and Jimin.

         “Is or was?” I push.

         “How do they know each other?” She asks instead.

         “I don’t know,” I tell her, lying in this business gets you nowhere, fast.

         Picking up another photo to compare, “How much will it cost to find out?”

         “I don’t know, it’ll take more time for sure, maybe another month or two. I’m still putting out feelers for Min Yoongi,” I inform her. “Then there’s the question of how all of them are connected, if they are. I have a slight lead on Jung Hoseok, he’s been out with Taehyung once or twice, and I guess, until today, not much on Park Jimin. There’s one other man that Taehyung goes to dinner with, but I don’t know who he is.”

         “Yoongi will be easy to find, though, right?” She asks me.

         “I would assume so, but I had to call in a favor to find Seokjin,” I reiterate.

         “Jimin was with Tae?”

         “What happened between your brother and Jimin?” I redirect.

         “He, they, fuck,” She swears, slamming her hand on her the table before turning her back to me and pacing the width of my office. “They were engaged and on the night of their engagement party, Jimin disappeared. No note, no call, nothing. Changed his cell number too. Wiped his social media. Jun-Seo couldn’t find him at his job, couldn’t locate him through his parents. Their friends didn’t know where he was.” Euna sits, taking a long swig from her Pellegrino. “It was as if he never really existed, Seo felt like he’d been in some dream that he’d magically woken up from to realize his life was a nightmare. He didn’t sleep for weeks, went on benders, became Dae’s henchman.”

         “Wasn’t he already?” I question.

         “Yes, but he was at his beck and call, for, what, six months or something? He’s started returning to his old self, but he’s never going to get over Jimin.” Euna takes another sip, hiccupping gently before screwing the cap back on.

         “Does Seo want revenge?” I ask.

         “Is it your job to know?” Euna snaps.

         “No, I guess not,” I shrug.

         “Jimin’s in town? For good?” She’s calculating, pupils contracting, irises moving from picture to picture.

         Tilting my head, I tell her, “I don’t know about that.”  

         She glances up at me, looking me dead on, “Will you find out?”

         “Sure, but it’ll cost. Your list keeps growing,” I pull out the handwritten list she’d made me for our first meeting.

         “Who’s on it again?”

         “Kim Seokjin, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung,” I recite, pretty names for prettier men.

         “And that other guy Taehyung hangs out with, I want him too,” Euna absentmindedly flings her hand in the general direction of her original list.

         “Okay,” I say, moving the note to jot a few words down on another piece of paper.

         “I’ll add an extra, what, two grand to your weekly? Can that move this along?” She’s refitting her sunglasses over her eyes, but I catch the glimmer of tears coating them.

         “Yes, it can. I’m going to have to work my –

         “Do whatever you have to,” Euna stands, grabbing her purse and pauses to look at the photos again. “When someone breaks your heart, destroys your world, well, wouldn’t you want revenge too?”

           Lee Euna leaves, a comment about her returning in two weeks for an update that I acknowledge with an “okay!” to hide how overwhelmed I am. The list is supposed to be getting shorter, not longer, and yet I’m sitting here, a few months in, with more people to find. Granted She just added more money to my fee, real money, tangible, squirrel away for when I’m back to hunting cheaters and abusers, money. But how am I going to find men who clearly and aggressively don’t want to be found? Not to mention the notes in my car, the connection to Jungkook and the very real chance that Euna’s revenge could very well be dangerous.

           I pick up my phone and dial the third number I have memorized, though Jungkook’s is slowly becoming #4.

           “You’ve ran out of favors, Y/N,” C says, tutting her teeth.

           “I’m not calling about a favor, I’m calling because I need advice.” I correct her.

           “What?” She’s curious, I can hear it in the lilt she uses for emphasis. Sisterhood allows you to notice those things, a life lived together means she can tell how frustrated I am.

           “It’s taking forever to run these pictures through the system. I’ve searched social media, I’ve combed local yearbooks and university graduation lists, and I cannot find these men. Either they’re –

           “Either they’re hiding and have scrubbed their existence from the web, or they are using fake names.” C answers, she hates when I call on her lunch break to talk shop, but she always answers.

           “How would I know?” I let out a frustrated growl that she chuckles at.

           “Isn’t that part of your job?” She snorts.

           “No, I know. I ran their names against Lee Enterprises rosters, and a few came back with different last names. Enterprises doesn’t post company photos so all I have to match them with are the names and photos Euna has given me. Which is minimally helpful. Seokjin wasn’t lying, his name was the same, but Taehyung’s isn’t Kim Taehyung at the library, but it’s him,” I explain.

           “Someone’s lying, either the men or Euna,” C deduces.

           “Could this be bigger than what Euna is asking for?” I ask the question that’s been stuck in my mind for days.

           “As in a larger group?”

           “Yes, as in a larger play in the works, a government agency, Interpol, Mafia, someone who’s out of my jurisdiction,” I clarify.

           “Lol, Interpol is the British Mafia. That’s funny. Truly, it could be, but how would you know?” She inquires.

           “We’ve had this conversation before,” I remind her.

           “True, but you process best when you speak through your problems,”

           “Also true.”

           “You’re on the right track, trust yourself, Y/N. Did you figure out if that Jimin was the same-

           “It is,” I interrupt.

         “What’s his deal?” C inquires.

         “Broke her brother’s heart,” I confirm.

           “Dae-Seong is gay?” She’s shocked, I roll my eyes.

           “Other brother,” I correct her.

           She hums. “Oh, he seems fluid? Is that the correct phrasing?”

           I snort, “Yeah, we’re all fluid technically,”

           “Mmm, speaking of-

           “Speaking of, if this was part of something larger, and you knew, would you tell me?” My voice is soft, C doesn’t know about the notes in my car, and she doesn’t need to.

           “If I could, if I had any information or anything, I would,” She promises.

           “Thank you. Love you, mean it,” I say.

           “Love you, mean it,” She answers.

           Finding Jimin was just a fluke, a one off, a bit of luck. He was with Taehyung in a genuine friendly engagement. They weren’t expecting me, I wasn’t expecting them. But the rest of these men? Jung Hoseok shows up here and there, nothing recent, no phone number or Facebook page with activity after 2015. Min Yoongi, well, Park Yoongi, shows up on the database, but when I look at the one photo of him, he is not the same man that Euna swears he is. The cherry on top of that is the last man to appear occasionally with Taehyung.

           Altogether, that’s six men. I’ve found three, which I guess should make me a glass half full kind of optimist. However, one was pure luck. The other was secrets from my sister and dumb luck, and the third? Child’s play. So, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, and Mystery Man, who are you, and what have you done to Lee Euna?

Next: Codename Love Reimagined 

[brunchbitch]

Long post

I've been having some tough conversations with my mom about the BLM movement and I'm realizing how interconnected my silence on important issues is with my trauma. Now that I'm developing my voice with my family, I'm also noticing wanting to develop my voice with certain societal issues. Unfortunately, my parents are expressing a lot of discomfort about me being more vocal on social media (mostly Instagram) and my mom said she's concerned I'm gonna face "backlash". I'm like... I'm a wealthy cisgender white woman. I'm not gonna face backlash. That's part of my privilege. If she means that people might disagree with me or change their opinion of me, I'm fine with that, but I’m not in danger of anything more than that.

She also said she was concerned bc the last two posts I've made have been about getting out of the hospital and the BLM movement and she said she worries that people will say, "you just got out of the hospital. Who are you to be talking about these issues?" She said people generally feel that you need to have your life in order before preaching to other people about how to live their lives. I was so taken aback that I didn’t say anything. That fucking hurt. Just because I’m mentally ill doesn’t mean I can’t have opinions on these issues...

She said she believes the best way to approach these issues is to quietly lead by example and that you need to meet people where they are and not push them. She said she really admires her friend who silently does work with impoverished communities but she doesn’t talk about it. 

First of all, if we meet people where they are, nothing will change. She said no one likes to be preached to, and I said, “I understand what you’re saying. I know I hate when people try to preach religion to me.” and she said, “Exactly!” and I continued, “But mom, the thing is, this isn’t an issue of telling someone they should believe in God or should attend church. This is literally saying that black lives matter and that police brutality against black people is unacceptable. I’m literally saying black people don’t deserve to be treated differently or to be killed because of their skin color.” 

Second of all, I really don’t feel like I’m “preaching” or attacking people. I have barely made ANY comments about my feelings/opinions. I have shared a lot of resources on my Instagram, but the only comment I made was that I need to take some time to do some internal work on educating myself on these issues and that I’m going to start by reading a certain book. I’m not criticizing people. I did send a text to my family group text but I really don’t feel like I was attacking anyone. Here’s what I said in the text: 

“Hi fam. I’m sure you guys have been watching the news about the protests against police brutality and the death of George Floyd. To be totally honest, I have felt uncomfortable and overwhelmed by all the information coming in, and that discomfort has made me realize that I’m not necessarily living in accordance with my values bc I have mostly been standing on the sidelines of this arena, despite really wanting to be anti racist. There’s been a ton of resources popping up everywhere and, bc I learn best from reading, I’ve decided to start with two books that have been recommended frequently and I was wondering if you all would be willing to also read these books so we can talk about it. The books are How To Be An Anti-Racist by Ibram X. Kendi and White Fragility by Robin Diangelo. Who would be willing to read them with me? Does anyone have any other resources? I’ve been posting some resources that have been helpful to me on my Instagram story and I would really encourage you all to watch it!” 

I then sent links to the things I was sharing on Instagram (maybe that was where I was giving too much information without people asking for it). I ended by saying, “I know this is a really difficult topic but I’m realizing how complacent I have been in not educating myself on these issues, despite feeling strongly about wanting to be anti racist. Thank you for taking the time to read these resources alongside me! Also please let me know if you know that you learn better through different formats (i.e. audiobooks/podcasts, individual stories, movies/TV shows) and I’m more than happy to find you some resources! I just saw a list of things to watch on Netflix and Hulu that are much quicker/more convenient than reading a book so I can share those if anyone is interested but also don’t want to totally hijack this group text.”

My mom said that people may be confused that this is coming out of nowhere with me. “You don’t have a background in this, you didn’t study this, and you’ve never really talked about this before.” And I’m like, “I know. I’ve been totally silent and I’m not okay with that anymore. I’m doing my best to educate myself.” I’ve been complicit with these issues which contributes to the racist status quo and I want to change that. I think the fact that it is occurring at the same time as my trauma work is not a coincidence. 

I texted A about all of this and he said, “I think part of the reason your struggles have been so enduring is a sense of feeling suppressed [in my family]. More with emotions/guilt than physical force and hatred, but there’s a parallel. I could see that emphasizing your desire to contribute to this cause as a form of breaking free. Not trying to take anything away from your genuine investment and empathy though. Just some thoughts.” And I totally agree.

I guess I’m just feeling frustrated bc I’m being encouraged by my parents to use my voice in regards to my trauma/my needs within my family, but that I shouldn’t be using my voice with this issue. But I’m tired of staying silent, I’m tired of being polite, I’m tired of feeling that disagreement and conflict makes me a terrible person and should be avoided at all costs.

Idk. These are some of my thoughts lately. 

[hotforharrison]

Meet & Greet ch 6

Chapter 5 <-- Series Masterlist --> Chapter 7

Pairing: Tom Holland/Reader

Summary: You missed out on a Tom Holland meet and greet, but a stranger, who you are pretty sure is a Tom Holland lookalike, rescues you from your pity party for one.

Word Count: 2,028

Warnings: More smut, but that’s not all this time!

A/N: I originally intended this to be nothing but irredeemable porn, but then the beginning of feelings happened, and I just went with it.

You were a bit nervous that someone would see you with Tom in the hotel and take a picture to post online. You didn’t want him, or you for that matter, to get the level of hate that tended to happen with those sorts of things.

“You’re checking out early. Was there anything wrong with the room?” the hotel desk clerk asked.

“No, it was fine,” you quickly answered, stumbling a bit over your words. “I just had an, uh, unexpected change of plans.”

The clerk tapped at the computer keyboard in front of her. “Since you didn’t cancel with 24 hours notice, you’ll still be charged for the room for tonight and tomorrow night. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” you agreed, desperate to get this over with and far away from the hotel.

“Now, I’ll need the key card, and we can finish checking you out.”

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself. Tom had taken the key card to grab your suitcase. You thought of all the online hate you could create for what amounted to an extended hookup and decided it wasn’t worth retrieving. “I, uh, lost it.”

She seemed unimpressed. “There’s a surcharge for that.”

“That’s fine,” you said, not really caring how much it was.

As she was tapping the keyboard, you were tapping your foot.

“Okay, you’re all checked out now. Have a nice day.”

“Thanks, you too.” You walked out to the parking lot, night air still humid and heavy from the rain. You quickly glanced around to see if anyone was paying attention to you. Fortunately, no one seemed to be.

You walked to the right side of the car out of habit before you realized that the seats were reversed here, and hurried over to the passenger side to get in. You shut the door behind you and heaved a sigh of relief.

“I have the keycard.” Tom held it up.

“I told them I lost it,” you confessed.

“Why?” he asked.

“I was afraid someone would take a picture of you with me at a hotel and make all the wrong, well, I guess technically right, assumptions. I don’t want you to have to deal with that.” You stared at the floorboard.

“No one was paying attention to us,” he reassured you, taking your hand and stroking his thumb over the back of it. “It’s sweet of you to be concerned, and before we get there, no one camps outside of my apartment late at night to take pictures of me. I’m not that famous.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little, then looked up at him. “I’m sorry. You must think I’m being silly.”

“You’re not. The paparazzi is an issue sometimes, but they don’t follow me everywhere.” He let go of your hand and started driving. “I’ve been with girls after I was cast as Spiderman without it being in the tabloids. Just have to have some discretion.”

Curiosity got the better of you. “So you don’t lead a life of celibacy?”

“Hardly. I was serious, though, when I said I don’t hook up with every pretty girl I meet. There’s been…” He paused in contemplation. “Maybe half a dozen or so, in the past couple of years? The last one was a few months ago at a party after I had a drink too many. I don’t usually enjoy one night stands as a rule.”

“So a longer-term friend with benefits?” you ventured.

“Something like that,” he agreed.

“You were willing to break your rule for me?”

“Sort of. It was probably presumptuous of me, but you had no concrete plans, and I thought you might be willing to spend a couple weeks with me instead of a couple hours,” he admitted.

“Not really presumptuous.” You glanced over at him. “I’ve had a crush on you for ages.”

“Am I living up to all your hopes and dreams?” he asked cheekily.

“I definitely imagined you’d be a less generous lover. I figured that being a movie star would have made you feel more...entitled? I’m not sure if that’s the exact term I’m looking for.” You shrugged.

“No, I get it. There are definitely some actors who let it go to their heads. I’ve heard plenty of horror stories. I try really hard to be the same person I was before Marvel came into my life.”

“I didn’t know you then, but you seem completely grounded to me.”

“I’m glad, although I have almost two weeks left to disappoint you.” He smiled over at you.

You weren’t sure you’d ever get over his smile. It made your knees weak. Well, really, he made your knees weak. You weren’t sure how long you watched his profile in the dim light, but it startled you out of your reverie when he parked.

“Okay, we’re here.”

You both got out of the car. You couldn’t help glancing around to see if there was anyone watching. He retrieved your suitcase from the trunk, carrying it for you.

“Such a gentleman,” you commented.

“I try,” he replied, drily.

You walked up to his door, and he paused. “Before we go in, you might end up taking back what you said about me being grounded.”

“Why would you say that?” you asked, curious.

“I have some Spiderman memorabilia.” He paused. “Not a ton, but, well, enough.”

You laughed. “That’s not a big deal.”

“You say that now.” He unlocked the door and ushered you in.

You walked in and looked around. There was a modest amount of Spiderman memorabilia, but it didn’t bother you. If you were in a movie, you’d want your merchandise, too.

He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a takeout menu. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll place the order.”

“You don’t have to get me dinner,” you started.

“No, I insist.” He handed you the menu.

You glanced over it, picked out your favorite dish, and gave the menu back.

He tapped at his phone for a few minutes while you watched idly, and then turned his attention back to you. “Should be here in around 45 minutes.”

“What can we do for the next 45 minutes?” You glanced over at his TV, wondering if people in the UK had Netflix or Hulu.

“I might have some ideas,” he said from behind you.

“Oh?” you wondered aloud.

“Actually, quite a few ideas.” He wrapped his arms around you, sliding a hand down your shirt to the waistband of your pants.

You were definitely on board with whatever ‘ideas’ he had in mind, but 45 minutes didn’t seem that long. “You can’t answer the door naked.”

“Who said anything about me being naked, darling?” He drew out the last word at the same time he slipped his hand inside your pants and panties.

“Oh god,” you moaned.

“Already so wet for me,” he commented as he slid a finger through your slick folds, rubbing circles around your clit without actually touching it, teasing you. “I can’t decide whether I want to get my mouth on that delicious cunt of yours again, or fuck you with my fingers and tell you all the filthy, filthy things I want to do to you for the next 13 days.”

“Please,” you begged, not caring what he chose, as long as he chose it soon.

“Bed first.” He led you to his bedroom. You kicked off your shoes and lay on his unmade bed.

He made quick work of taking off your pants and panties. “I’m gonna try something, but tell me to stop if I hurt you, or you don’t like it. Okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed.

He nudged your thighs apart and slid on his stomach between your spread legs. You draped them over his shoulders, soft material of his shirt against your bare skin. You stroked your fingers through his silky curls, and it definitely felt nicer dry than wet.

Like the last time, he dove in eagerly. His tongue quickly found your clit, and this time, he didn’t seem to want to tease you. He sucked your clit into his mouth again, flicking his tongue over it, but this time he didn’t stop.

Your orgasm hit quickly, and you felt a single finger press into you. It felt bigger than his tongue had, and definitely deeper, and a bit more uncomfortable. You didn’t really have time to process the feeling before he crooked it, and pleasure sparked in you, sharp, bright, and incredible.

You screamed his name and bucked hard against his face, fingers tangling in his hair and unconsciously tugging it.

He didn’t stop until you stilled, and then pulled his face back, finger still buried inside you. His face was glistening with your wetness. He was breathing hard.

“Are you alright?” you asked, concerned.

“Yeah. Looks like you like g-spot stimulation.” He moved his finger and crooked it again.

The spark of pleasure returned, and your hips thrust involuntarily again.

“I might be able to get you to squirt. We’ll see. How does my finger feel?”

You thought about it for a moment. “It felt really big and really deep at first, but now it just feels good. I think I might want more.”

“Maybe another finger?”

“Yeah. I’m a little nervous, but I trust you.”

He collected some of your wetness on his middle finger and pressed it gently against the index finger, still buried in you. You sharply inhaled when the tip breached you, pressure turning to a bit of pain and an uncomfortable stretch.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, stilling.

You gulped, knowing that his cock was never going to fit in you if you couldn’t even take a couple of fingers. You knew you didn’t have all the time in the world with him, and you wanted to make the most of what time you had. “No, don’t stop.”

“You’re doing so well, love, absolutely perfect. Just a little more.” He worked his middle finger in slowly, rubbing soothing circles on your hip with his free hand. “I promise it’ll feel much better soon. You’ll be taking my cock in no time, sweetheart.”

Although they didn’t spike your arousal the way he called you ‘darling’ did, the pet names made your heart flutter. When his palm finally bumped into your skin, you breathed a sigh of relief. After giving you a little time to adjust, his thumb started rubbing your clit in unhurried circles. The stretch and ache were still there, but you stopped noticing as much when your arousal flared again.

Your orgasm came quicker this time, but no less bright or intense. While you chanted his name between moans, he thrust both fingers in and out. He gradually built up speed, brushing your g-spot every few times, and driving you absolutely crazy.

The pleasure distracted you from the uncomfortable stretch when he occasionally scissored his fingers slightly. The stretch soon became a satisfying fullness, something you definitely wanted again. You were very, very glad your previous fears had been unwarranted.

“Such a good girl for me.” He withdrew his fingers as your orgasm subsided. “Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head. “No. It hurt at first, but then it felt really good.”

He started to lick his fingers off slowly again, making sure you were watching. “I love the way you say my name when you cum. I want to take you apart for hours, get you off on my fingers, my mouth, my cock, until we lose track of how many times you’ve cum, but I still don’t think I could get enough.”

Your already pounding pulse found its way to your clit again, and you couldn’t help the whine that escaped you.

“I promise I’ll take such good care of you, darling. I’ll-”

The doorbell rang.

“Shit.” He quickly wiped his face off on the back of his hand and adjusted himself in his pants. “You can get dressed again, and we’ll have dinner.” He paused for a second, thoughtful. “Or don’t. I’ll leave it up to you.”

He hurried off to answer the door, leaving you lying on his bed, utterly and completely sexually frustrated.

Tag list: @drown-me-before-dema-does @tom-hollands-blog @tylers-ankles-beebos-forehead @moorehollandplz @delicatepeterparker @thollandss

[noreasonjustbored]

Fall In Fake Love With Me

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Henry scanned the hallway for a head full of dark curls until he located Charlotte standing by her locker talking to some people from L.I.M.P.

“Char!” Henry yelled while power walking towards her.

Deeply engrossed in her conversation, Charlotte didn’t hear Henry until he was right behind her. “Charlotte Marie Page!” he practically screamed in her ear.

Jumping slightly from the unexpected volume, Charlotte turned around with a glare. “First of all, that’s not my middle name. Second, why are you yelling?”

Her L.I.M.P. colleagues slowly walked away, knowing from experience that she was unlikely to return to their conversation now that Henry was there.

“That’s not the point! Listen, I want you to be my girlfriend.”

Charlotte’s brain short-circuits. He wants me to WHAT? Be his girlfriend? I don’t really see him like that. I mean I can’t deny that he’s attractive but- dating? Since when does he have feelings for me? This could ruin our entire friendship!

“Ummm... Henry I don’t think that-“ she starts to protest. Henry puts a finger over Charlotte’s lips and frantically whispers, “Shhhhhh she’s coming!”

“Who’s coming?” Charlotte asks confusedly. Her question was answered a moment later when Bianca strolled over to them with a smirk on her face.

“Henry. Hi. I see you’re looking...taller since we last saw each other” she says while giving him a slow once over and biting her bottom lip.

“Yeah well, time will do that to you. Puberty and all that.” Henry laughs uncomfortably.

A small snort of amusement comes from Charlotte, causing both to look over at her.

“Henry’s friend! I didn’t see you there!”

Char fights the urge to roll her eyes, “Brittney! I didn’t know you were back in Swellview! How are you doing after the show?” she asks in a falsely sympathetic tone.

Bianca plastered on a tight smile. “I’m fine, we’re just on hiatus right now.”

“Oh? I heard that Kids in the Woods was cancelled?”

Bianca clenched her teeth and Charlotte could see a muscle in her jaw moving.

“Technically...but it’s only a matter of time before it’s picked up by another network. There’s a Change.org petition and everything. We have such loyal fans. I’m sure Netflix or Hulu will probably snatch it up real soon.”

“How optimistic. Good for you, keep hope alive.”

Bianca’s left eye twitched in annoyance as she swiveled her head in Henry’s direction. “Hey, I’ve been reaching out to you on Insta, have you gotten my messages?” Bianca asked while twirling a piece of hair around her finger.

“I don’t really check Instagram like that.”

“Oh. Well anyway” Bianca plows forward, “Since I’m back in town, I was wondering if you wanted to catch up over frozen yogurt sometime?”

“Can’t. Sorry.”

“I didn’t even give you a date or time.” Bianca narrows her eyes at him.

“Uh- I’m uh...Charlotte! We always have plans. You know, booked and busy. Right babe?”

She gives him an exasperated look as understanding dawned on her. Oh! You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend in front of Bianca. Ugh, why do you always get me into these situations Henry? Going with the program, Charlotte wraps a hand around Henry’s bicep and leans into his side. “That’s right. Babe.”

Henry glances at Charlotte who is now looking up at him through her eyelashes and he looses his train of thought for a second. Whoa, Charlotte’s like really cute. When did that happen?

Bianca looks between both of them with squinted eyes, “Wait. Are you guys dating or something?”

“Or something” Char mumbles only loud enough for Henry to hear.

He snaps out of his daze when Charlotte widens her eyes at him, signaling that he still needs to respond to her question. “Yeah we’re deeeeeeep in love” Henry awkwardly says then clears his throat.

“Sure you are.” Bianca scoffs. “Henry, let me know if your schedule...clears up.”

She gives Charlotte a dirty look before turning on her heels and flouncing away.

Once she was out of sight, Char turns to her friend and hits him on the arm. “What was that?”

“I asked you to be my girlfriend!”

“Yeah but I didn’t agree! You forced my hand!”

“Forced your ha- what are you from the 1600s?”

“Whatever! I’m not being your fake girlfriend.”

“Why not?!?” Henry whines.

“Why not? Why would I?” Char asks incredulously.

“Because Bianca won’t leave me alone! I keep letting her down easy but she doesn’t take the hint. Look at what she calls ‘reaching out’, Henry says while pulling up Instagram on his Pear Phone. He goes to his DMs and clicks on Bianca’s picture. He scrolls through to show at least thirty to forty messages with no response from his end.

“Well that’s creepy. But how is it my problem?”

“Because you’re my best friend!”

“Why don’t you ask Jasper? He’s also your best friend and I’m sure he would pretend to be your boyfriend.”

“Yeah he would usually but he just asked out Taylor, how is he supposed to date me and go out with them? Plus I already asked and he said no.”

“Wow so I’m not even your first choice? Hard pass.” Charlotte replies as the bell rings.

As she walks away Henry shouts down the hallway, “You’re my first choice sometimes! Char! Char!”

That was definitely the wrong thing to say. Henry sighs and then heads to his own class.

At work they were lounging around when Henry noticed everyone else was gone. Just he and Char were left alone in the ManCave. Getting up from his seat at the console he walks over to Charlotte, who is laying upside down on the couch looking at her phone.

Standing over her for a few moments he contemplates what to say to broach the subject again.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Charlotte quips.

Henry pulls out his phone and she looks up right as he snaps a photo.

“I was joking, you weirdo” she replies while sitting up.

“Well I wasn’t.”

“Huh?”

“About the fake dating thing.” Henry sits down next to her on the couch.

“Ugh” Char groans and leans her head against the back of the couch.

“Just hear me out, okay?”

She didn’t respond at all and Henry took that as his cue to continue.

“Listen, Bianca has been trying to get back together with me ever since the end of last year. I was talking to her online AS FRIENDS when she started subtly and then not so subtly hitting on me. After a while, I just stopped responding. Now that’s she back in Swellville, it’s like she’s trying ten times harder. She keeps “happening to run into me” everywhere and blowing up my phone. It’s hella uncomfortable. I just need her to get off my back.”

“I’m sorry that you have a high-key stalker but honestly this situation only benefits you. What do I get out of it?”

“Ummmmmm...oh! You’re always complaining about your family constantly ragging

on you for not having a significant other. I’m significant! I can be your other.”

“They want me to have a real partner, not someone dating me to keep a 115 pound girl at bay.”

“Yeah but they won’t know that it’s not real. Come on Char! Didn’t you tell me the other day how you weren’t looking forward to your family reunion? Because of all the slick comments that you’d get about being single?”

“I mean true but-“

“See! Exactly!” Henry stood in excitement.

“Yeah but how would it work? Would we have to like...kiss?”

“Ummm...possibly? I didn’t really think about that.” Henry sits back down slowly.

“I just don’t want it to be awkward between us.”

“I get what you mean, but we can still do this! It’s not like we have to make out or anything. I doubt we’ll even have to kiss on the lips. Cheek kisses, forehead kisses. That’s cute right?”

“I guess.” Charlotte stated.

“Don’t you want to see the look on your cousins’ faces when you stroll in there with me on your arm?”

“Alyssa does always have the most to say and she probably wouldn’t expect that we would ever get together. I could finally get her to stop throwing shade.” Char contemplates.

“Soooooooooooo...you’ll do it?”

Charlotte sighs, “I know I’m going to regret this immediately.”

“Yes! You’re the best girlfriend in the world!”

“FAKE girlfriend.”

“Yeah, yeah whatever. So where do we start?”

“I don’t know, wasn’t this YOUR plan?”

“Uh yeah but you’re the planner in this relationship.”

“Man are you annoying.”

“You love me.” Henry grins cheekily and leans his head on her shoulder.

“Sometimes” came her response as she pushed his head away.

“Ok we already know that I’m going to go to the family reunion with you that’s a no-brainer. When is that happening?”

“Two weeks.” Char readily supplies.

“Perfect, and as for Bianca. We gotta go somewhere where we could flaunt our relationship in front of her.”

“School?”

“Yeah but more than that. Somewhere outside of campus so she knows I wasn’t lying about being busy with you all the time.”

“But where could we go that she was guaranteed to see us?”

“Hmmm...what about the football game this Friday? Bianca joined the cheerleading team so we know she’ll be there.”

“Wow, she’s really dedicated to her trope huh?”

Henry gives her a confused look in reply.

“Bitchy, popular girl is also a cheerleader? How one dimensional.”

“Oh she’s got dimensions, and all of them are crazy.”

“Whatever. Let’s set some ground rules.”

“Rules? You sure know how to suck the life out of something.”

She glares in retaliation.

“Ok ok, what are these rules?”

“Rule number 1. Whatever happens, this will not ruin our friendship.”

“Nothing bad is gonna happen Char, relax.”

“Just agree.”

“Alright, I agree. We will always stay friends. Anything else?”

“Yeah, we only do this for a month, two tops. That’s enough time for me to get my family to stop breathing down my neck about “gettin a man” and hopefully enough time for Bianca to move on to her next victim.”

“Seems fair. I have a rule.”

“Shoot.”

“We can’t tell anyone that it’s not real.”

“What, why? Not even Jasper?”

“Especially not Jasper! He can’t keep a secret to save his life.”

“Valid.”

“I just don’t want to risk this getting back to Bianca and she figures out I’m actually single. Plus, it’ll make it seem more authentic if everyone around us believes it. Lastly, we’ll look super lame if anyone found out.”

“You made several points. Any other rules?”

“Don’t fall in love with me” Henry smirks jokingly.

“You wish.”

[cantgetoutofmyheda]

46. What if i told you... clexa

If someone had told a younger version of Lexa that she would one day find herself in a conference room with the head of marketing for 20th Century Fox Films, she would have laughed in their face—but here she was, sitting face-to-face with Indra.

The woman pursed her lips, making a calculated decision in her head before finally speaking, “Listen, Lexa. It’s the company’s 85th anniversary. We need to go big, that’s why we’re here talking to you,” she paused, waiting for Lexa to acknowledge the compliment, “I’ll be honest, we received a lot of good proposals from your competitors, but there’s something about Vice that has just been speaking out to me.”

Lexa nodded and tugged her lips into a grin, “Is it the exceptional branded content we make for our partners? Our network of publications we have ties to? The culturally relevant events we plan on a weekly basis?” She lifted her brow before she continued, “Indra, I promise you that if you go with my team, the whole world will know that your company will be throwing the party of the year. Forget the Met Gala, everyone’s going to want an invite to this.”

Indra couldn’t help but laugh at the younger woman’s enthusiasm, “They don’t call you ‘The Commander’ for nothing, huh?”

“So I’ve been told,” Lexa smirked.

“Okay,” Indra sighed, “Put your best team on it. I want a huge campaign—media running at least a month before the event. Co-branded billboards. Hell, I want every damn bus, cab, and train wrapped in our posters.”

“You got it,” Lexa nodded as she jotted down notes.

“And,” Indra lifted her index finger, “I want your creative department to vet all the artists through me. I give final approval on the commissioned pieces, and I am counting on your creatives to make sure that our vision isn’t being taken away.”

Lexa nodded again, “Of course,” she couldn’t help the grin on her face as she stuck out her hand, “So do we have a deal?”

Indra let out a chuckle, reaching for the brunette’s hand, “It seems as so.”

---

“It’s going to be fucking sick, Lexa,” Anya smiled, flipping through a Keynote presentation, “Indra approved every single artist I chose and their initial concepts.”

“Knew you’d come through,” Lexa shrugged.

“Oh,” Anya turned to face her, “As if I’ve never come through with mind blowing plans?”

“You do,” she shrugged again, “that’s why you’re our creative director.”

Anya placed her hand on Lexa’s shoulder, “Exactly. Now are you ready for me to run through production timelines? They’re kind of tight, but I know we can make them work.”

Lexa sat on the lounge chair across Anya’s desk and kicked her feet onto the small coffee table, “Hit me.”

“Alright,” Anya flipped to another slide, “We give the artists approval today to start their pieces and check in next Tuesday for revisions—that’s over a week from now, which should be enough time. By the following Tuesday, we do one more round—hopefully working with the final product. Once Indra gives the ‘okay,’ she chooses eight of the thirty pieces to highlight in the advertising leading up to the event, and the rest will be unveiled there.”

Lexa nodded, the tip of her ballpoint pen was sitting at the corner of her mouth, “We’ll need to digitize all the paintings as soon as they’re finished in order to get the right specs for the billboards and transit wraps, then your team will have to work pretty quick to get some editorial pieces, digital videos of the story behind the eight pieces, and all the online banners.”

“All built into the timeline,” Anya shook her head, “Have you no faith in me?”

“I know,” Lexa nodded, “I know. It’s just the biggest partner we’ve ever had and biggest campaign and event we’ve ever done, it needs to be perfectly executed.”

Anya looked at her friend dead in the eyes, “And it will be.”

---

To say that the campaign leading into the event was successful would be the understatement of the year. The ads using the re-imaged artwork for the film house’s famous movie posters was the talk of the town—talk of the country. Every publication was writing about them, streaming for the eight movies chosen had nearly tripled on Netflix, Hulu, and Prime, compared to this time period last year. Lexa was beyond happy—exhausted, but beyond happy.

“Stop stressing,” Anya rubbed her friend’s arm, “everything’s going to be perfect.”

“I know, it’s just,” Lexa rubbed her temple before smoothing her pressed white button up which was neatly tucked into her slim-fitting suit pants, “this is it. It’s the climax of the whole activation—all eyes are on it.”

“Go mingle and check out all the posters, Lex,” Anya gave her a gentle nudge forward, “Hell, grab a glass of wine, too. I know you haven’t seen all the final art yet, go take a look and enjoy yourself for a bit—it’s well deserved.”

Lexa nodded, “Okay, yeah. Just call or text me if you need anything.”

Anya rolled her eyes, “Just go.”

---

Lexa found herself sipping her wine and staring at a painting that depicted one of her favorite movies. She knew that someone was commissioned to do this piece, it was actually one of the ones she didn’t want to see the concepts and mocks for—wanting to be surprised during the unveiling of the showcase. She stood, sipped, and stared, hoping to find answers to her questions within each brush stroke.

“You’ve been standing here for a while,” a voice next to her observed.

Lexa turned to face the stranger and was taken aback by how piercing her blue eyes were, “I have. And I presume you have too, if you’ve taken notice to me.”

The woman smiled, “I saw you from across the room a few minutes ago. I’ve been making my way through the exhibit. I was pretty surprised to see still handing here as I made my way around.”

Lexa returned the smile, “I see. So, are you in the film industry or are you a fan of art?”

“The latter,” the woman smiled, “Do you have a favorite piece from tonight?”

Lexa turned back to the painting in front of her, “I think I’m still trying to decide. What about you?”

“Easy,” she answered, “over in the Modernism section—Mannequin, the 80’s movie with Kim Cattrall.”

Lexa furrowed her brow, “I actually don’t think I know it. What’s it about?”

The woman laughed, “80’s rom-com. Kim Cattrall plays a department store mannequin that comes to life. It’s so bad that it’s good. One of my all time guilty pleasures.”

“Sounds interesting,” Lexa smirked, “Might have to check that one out.”

“So,” the blue-eyed beauty stepped closer to Lexa, “tell me what’s so interesting about this piece for you. I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but I’d assume there’s something piquing your interest since you’ve been standing here for so long.”

“I–,” Lexa started, “Well, this is one of my favorite movies of all time.”

The woman nodded for her to continue.

Lexa smiled, “I knew this was being commissioned, but I wasn’t expecting this particular poster to be used. I know there were a few different ones floating around when the movie was in theaters, but this one was one of the more uncommon ones. I’m not bummed about it, just trying to understand why the artist chose this one to represent the film.”

She brought her attention back to the piece—it’s true, Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back was one of her favorite movies of all time, and arguably the best Star Wars movie in the entire saga. Mostly everyone knew the iconic poster: Darth Vader in the shadows of the background, with Han Solo and Princess Leia in an almost-kiss in the foreground, and Luke and the droids at their side. This piece, however—this piece didn’t depict that poster. This one had Darth Vader most prominent with Stormtroopers rushing to the foreground. The film’s protagonists all had a certain fear cast in their eyes—it showcased the power of the Dark Side, not the optimistic resistance of the Light Side that people were used to.

“I see,” the woman interrupted her train of thought, “it’s nice to see something so out of the ordinary for such an iconic movie, though. Don’t you think?”

Lexa nodded, “Absolutely, I think the thing that’s on my mind is just wanting to know why the artist chose to do their depiction on this poster.”

“So,” the woman took another step closer, now entering Lexa’s personal space, “are you industry or a fan of art?”

“Both, I suppose,” Lexa said, scanning the woman in front of her up and down, “I work for Vice, my team put the campaign and event together—though I am a big fan of art, even outside of this project,” she tugged the corner of her mouth into a smirk and reached her hand forward, “Lexa Woods.”

The woman took Lexa’s hand in hers, giving it a light shake, “What if I told you I was the artist behind this commission?”

Lexa raised a brow, but before she could respond, the woman spoke up again, “Clarke Griffin. It’s a pleasure.”

“Clarke,” Lexa repeated, surprised at the way the woman’s named rolled so seamlessly off her tongue, “Pleasure is all mine. Maybe I could pick your brain about your piece, then?”

Clarke raised a brow, “How about over a drink?”

“Well,” Lexa raised her glass of wine, “I already have one, so maybe we should get one for you?”

Clarke bit her bottom lip, “I was thinking something outside of a work setting—because that’s technically what this is for you, right? Me as well, I suppose.”

Lexa smiled, “I see. Are you asking me out for a drink?”

“I guess I am,” Clarke grinned, “But only for the sake of Star Wars and artistic expression.”

“Only?” Lexa raised a brow.

Clarke corrected herself, “Mostly.”

“I see,” Lexa smirked, “tomorrow at 7? Wine bar down the street?”

“Sure,” Clarke nodded with a grin plastered on her face.

“Well then,” Lexa cocked her head to the side, “I suppose it’s a date.”

[closecry]

The Back-up Plan (Pagan Min x Reader)

Word Count: 2,223. Rated T for light cursing. Cross posted to my AO3, MadQueen. Based off a recent shitpost I made.

It's 2018. Late 2018… Maybe. Probably. These days, it was hard to pinpoint what day it was exactly. You were on an island Pagan had purchased for his retirement from being the King of Kyrat. What with the constant sunshine and nice weather, it was hard to tell exactly what time of year it was.

Pagan had a calendar in the villa that he used to keep track of time (It went to the year 3000. Which you thought was ridiculous.). It wasn't needed, because while you were on an island in the middle of the ocean, it wasn't without the "necessities".

There were solar panels that were used to power the house, there were satellites that adorned the roof of the villa that could pick up stations halfway across the world, 4 swimming pools, a tennis and basketball court, and of course, Internet Access. Pagan couldn't live without access to Netflix, Prime, HBO GO, Hulu-... all of the subscription services. He had all of them.

Most days for Pagan are spent at the villa, enjoying one of the many activities he could while there.

As it stands, though, you were sitting on the edge of the sand at your favorite beach on the island. It had nice tide pools you enjoyed exploring when the option is made available to you. You were enjoying rereading one of your favorite books, one that Pagan had first introduced you to.

Today, you had been able to convince Pagan to come out with you, and while he was in the shade far away from the ocean's side… he was there. A nice steady presence behind you. He had a radio sitting beside him blaring music in order to be heard over the raging sound of the crashing waves.

The water laps up to your ankles and startles you from your book you had been engrossed in.

You had been sitting on the edge for hours, and the tide apparently had time to rise up to meet you. To be be fair, it was a good book. And Pagan's choice of music had really lulled you into a sense of bliss that left you ignorance of the passage of time.

You sigh, and lean back, your book now momentarily forgotten as you instead focused on the radio behind you and the waves crashing in front of you. It was playing ABBA, one of Pagan's favorite artists. You're not surprised about that, if you're being honest. He adored most music in the same sort of genre, the over the top ballads and upbeat songs being his go to jams. You suppose it did fit his drama queen personality, though.

You lay down against the sand, and your head lulls back in order to focus on getting a good look of Pagan from behind you in the shade tree that he often frequented these days.

For a man that bought a tropical island to spend his retirement on, he didn't really enjoy exploring the edges of the island, or the ruins of the former village, or the small mountain tops that littered the island, or even swimming.

No, he much more enjoyed sitting down in the shade reading through Vogue, a magazine he specifically had shipped to the island monthly. When he didn't have a new copy to peruse he often would pick up a book, but for now, being at the beginning of the month it was, it was time for his magazine.

Pagan had let his guard down on the island, no longer fearful of assassins around the corner, or an uprising in the shadows. He was just allowed to be himself.

The only other people on this island were a few farmers, chefs, repairmen, and cleaners who kept the island's villa and guesthouse up and running… and well, Gary. (You weren't sure Gary's exact job title, he just kind of did whatever Pagan wanted him to. He was deeply devoted to the former king.) There were shipments of whatever exotic item Pagan were craving, but for the most part you were incredibly self reliant.

You didn't have a care in the world on the island, it was bliss. While it was humid, you, unlike Pagan, enjoyed the island for what it was. You explored, and swam, and even had your own little garden by the house… Perhaps that's why he had picked the island, if he didn't himself enjoy the activities?

Pagan was still Pagan, though, somehow always able to tell when eyes were on him from years of being on the run. It was like he had a sixth sense for the thing. So, after a moment, his magazine slides down and he meets your eyes with a questioning look.

You're confident that if It weren't for the deafening noise of the ocean and ABBA drowning out any possible noise that he could make, he would perhaps teasingly ask what you were doing watching him, but as it stands he simply smirks, motions for you to take up the space beside him, and slides the magazine back up after a moment.

There was an empty seat beside him, across from the table where the radio sat. It was an over the top lawn chair, incredibly expensive and adorned in exotic metals in the frame with your name embroidered into the fabric covering the cushions. A set of seats fit for a king and his spouse.

You let out a chuckle at his overconfidence, knowing that he was now waiting for you to join him, but sure enough, after a few seconds you do stand up and make your way over. You couldn't deny, his company did sound preferable to the crashing waves and small sea creatures that had washed up on shore.

You wipe as much of the sand off your body as you can while you walk, and when you end up in front of Pagan you're left with two choices. As it stands, you could easily take the chair beside him, the one that he was motioning for you to take, but the area between his legs looks too tempting for you not to at the very least try.

It wasn't often he denied you anything you wanted, so you're fairly certain he won't push you away if you attempt to share the seat.

You lean down, sitting down at the space between his legs. When Pagan realizes what you're doing, the magazine slides up slightly to make room when you start to slide between his spread legs. You gently lay your back against his stomach and your head against the lower part of his chest. Your arms fall against his thighs where they surround you, essentially making makeshift arm rests.

You half expect him to simply move the magazine up to your head and use it as a sort of stand, as he has done before when you've interrupted his reading by doing similar feats. He especially did it when you were back on Kyrat, where his task had to do more with life and death rather than whatever Vogue was featuring this month. He throws the magazine to the side table, and tangles a hand into your hair, beginning to stroke the strands.

You push gently up into his hand, nuzzling back into his chest with a satisfied smile. Now this, this, was nice. Pagan normally only gave intimacy when it was first initiated, he rarely reached out. He was normally a reserved person, and before you had moved to the island he enjoyed showing his affection in other ways. Mostly monetarily, but his kind words did also hold a sort of reverence for only you.

Pagan can't help teasing you though, always finding a way to do so when at all possible. As it was, with you pushing back into his hand with contentedness, it wasn't hard for him to find something to point out. "Needy." He breathed, but the word was spoken with such fondness that he carried with him in nearly every breath.

He would never readily admit it, but you knew he liked it when he felt needed. Wanted. Before, when he was king, he had hundreds of people constantly reaffirming him. You tried to fill in where you could, and you're sure he understood exactly what you were doing. If he did, he didn't comment on it.

***

You're half asleep when the noise of the radio's static alerts you. You jerk against Pagan's body at the sudden change, surprised. It's cut out from Dancing Queen to a sort of alert noise that's taken the place of ABBA's voices.

Pagan's hand stops it's careful and calculated strokes, and he offers a glare to the radio. "What?" He grumbles, seemingly to the object as though it would answer him back.

As it is, you make no move to get up in order to inspect the radio, but instead watch it with confusion. Perhaps it had somehow switched stations to something else? Maybe it lost signal?

It beeps again and a voice starts speaking, sounding panic when it does so.

"There has been a nuclear attack on United States soil," You hear what sounds like the person shuffling papers.

You move forward, sitting on the edge of the seat now with bated breath. The lazy afternoon turning into the most stress you've had in years.

The voice starts up again after a moment. It doesn't sound any less nervous than it had previously. "It appears to been a direct retaliation from North Korea as a recent change in policy-"

The radio cuts out, and static takes it's place. You stare at it for a moment, your eyes widened with disbelief.

You had known about the rising nuclear threat of the other countries, but you never thought it would come to this. Sure, there would be alerts on the radio occasionally interrupting the stream of music that Pagan had playing, but… they were never like this. Never this severe.

You look at Pagan now, unsure of how to react to news of one of the biggest countries in the world being nuked. Millions other casualties, what with the tech that existed nowadays. There would undoubtedly be retaliation from the United States as well, thereby creating more death. Destruction.

Eventually, Pagan's arm reaches forward and he switches the radio over to the CD that he had in the device, and ABBA once again overtakes the noise of the waves in the background. He was never without his contingencies.

"Well, that's unfortunate." Pagan says, his voice not sounding the least bit sorry or worried. "A real shame." He says, reaching forward as to pick the Vogue magazine he had dropped when you plopped down into his lap.

You reach over to the radio and turn it down, but not off. He would complain if you turned it off entirely.

"Pagan." You say, your voice patient.

Still, he doesn't look up at you, he offers nothing but a simple hum in response, dismissively.

Your eyes narrow at him now, and while you want to take the magazine away and throw as far into the ocean as you can at his blasé attitude to all of this, you restrain yourself to moving a single finger over to his magazine and gently sliding it down, until his eyes meet yours again with a roll that doesn't go missed by you.

He looks entirely unimpressed. "It wasn't my fault, why are you looking at me like that, darling?" Pagan asks, his voice sounding almost annoyed. "I can't control what other countries do, hell, I can't even control what Kyrat does anymore-"

"Pagan," You start, effectively cutting him off, a sigh being unable to hold itself in. "We should still talk about what this means." You say, and after nothing but a raise of his eyebrow in question, you continue. "I mean, they are undoubtedly going to retaliate, and that means that most of the rest of the world is fucked."

Pagan, once again rolls his eyes. You want to hurt him. (Not really, but, still… He's being an asshole.)

His tone is still unworried when he speaks. "It won't reach us here, we're in the middle of nowhere." He assures you, but it's said like someone might talk to a child. As if it's obvious. "And, God-forbid if they drop one close enough for fallout to reach us, we'll simply move to the underground shelter. It has food and water enough for 30 people for another 30 years, the same as the one in Kyrat that Ajay is undoubtedly occupying currently..." He chuckles, and shrugs. "Hell, I believe the one here has it's own set of swimming pools as well, among other things."

He moves a hand to your shoulder and pats it softly. "We'll be fine." And with that, he has the magazine back up. A hand blindly reaches out and the radio is back to the volume it was before.

You believed him when he said you would be fine. The rest of the world might be going to shit, but here, on the island in the middle of nowhere, Pagan's retirement would not be interrupted. He couldn't save the world, society may be collapsing around him, but he could protect what was important to him. His world.

...Pagan never was without his contingencies.