#I did not mean to have another tweet about sleep deprivation

[rosiespokemontwitterau]

Do Sinnoh people even get sleep? (ヽ´ω`)

[whateverthedragonswant]

I just have to get this off my chest because it's been bothering me ever since I saw a particular post about Danneel (I'll mention below) earlier and all of the ridiculousness I've seen this weekend about J2M as well:

Holy fucking shit. I knew with Jibcon being this weekend that there would be so much drama happening (like always) but I can't believe some of the takes I've seen from what these guys have said. This, to me, is an all-new low for this fandom.

First of all, while I am not a Jared fan (I don't hate the guy, I'm just indifferent to him if that makes sense) and while I have repeatedly claimed that I despise 15x20 and Dean's death, when I read his answer to that finale question (I haven't watched the panel yet but I plan to), I did not automatically take it as him saying that Dean deserved to die or that he deserved to live a half life or any of it. Do I agree with his opinion (at first mention I mean)? No, but it's just that, his opinion. Since the whole DenCon 2021 disaster, I've actually done a deep dive with this guy and I have come to appreciate his opinions on things related to the show and industry, even if I may not necessarily agree with him all of the time. I don't think he's an evil guy or sitting around hatching evil schemes to screw over Jensen, Misha, Dean, Cas, or their fans or anything like it. The guy's human and he has opinions, just like every other human being on the planet. Can we please try to come from that perspective when we hear something he said rather than running around screaming "FOUL!" before the guy is even finished speaking? I'm guilty of making that mistake in the past but now I try to come from a more objective and compassionate perspective when I hear something, and then look into it for myself. And each time I find that his words/intention consistently gets misconstrued and painted in a light that was never there in the first place. Which brings me to my second point:

When it comes to Danneel, I am not per se a fan of hers either, I am also rather indifferent to her as I am to Jared or Misha. I don't hate her and even though I don't condone any of what could be characterized as "bad behavior" from the past (i.e. her old tweets and responses to people), like Jared for example, she is also another human being and like any other human being, people do change and they do grow as they get older/have more experiences. She may still behave in a similar manner (though we haven't seen this publicly that I am aware of) or she may not (when you have kids, things tend to change your perspective usually), either way it doesn't matter when it comes to what I'm about to mention. Criticize the woman or don't criticize her, love her or hate her, whatever your reasons, can we PLEASE stop with the bullshit? And what I mean by the bullshit is this:

Jensen mentioned that he was tired in his solo panel today because Danneel wanted to stay up the night before because she hadn't been to Rome in 11 years. All of a sudden, antis (and one severely worrying individual in particular who apparently has a hard time distinguishing fiction from reality when it comes to this couple aka one hgcowboy - you know the one): DANNEEL IS ABUSING HIM BY DEPRIVING HIM OF SLEEP!!!! HOW DARE SHE!!!

Like, are you fucking kidding me? I may be indifferent to the woman or give two figs about her really but how do you get from Jensen being tired from a late night out with his wife to her ABUSING him? And this is characterized as intentional sleep deprivation? Obviously this person (hgcowboy) has never been psychologically abused like this (which is obviously a good thing) nor has she ever spoken to someone who has been through such an ordeal (I am someone who has been through that for example); that's more than evident from this commentary she posted.

1) Danneel wanting to stay out late because this is the one time she's been to Rome in 11 years (and obviously the first time with their kids) is NOT abuse. Have you ever had kids? Have you been married with said kids? There is nothing wrong with Mommy and Daddy having a night out, especially in a place that Mommy doesn't always get to visit (which is why I'm willing to bet that Jensen agreed to stay up despite his early schedule the next day). It doesn't matter that Jensen had a con the next day. The circumstances being what they are change Jensen's usual schedule. If he wasn't married and dating someone instead or took his mom there and she wanted to enjoy a night out or Daniela did as Jensen first joked, is that abuse, too? Simple answer: no. Can it be inconsiderate if (and that's a big IF) that person's intentions were purely self-involved? Sure. But NOT abuse.

2) Jensen is a GROWN ASS MAN. He can make his own decisions. For example, he said yesterday that he likes to go on the Tower of Terror ride (or whatever they call it these days) like JJ, but Danneel doesn't like the ride. He still makes the decision to go on that ride no matter that she doesn't like it. HE MAKES HIS OWN CHOICES. He could have told Danneel no about staying up but he didn't. He chose to go anyway, knowing he had an early morning. That's on him, not her, no matter the reasoning behind his making the decision. He is responsible for himself. Stop pulling shit out of thin air to justify your hatred and jealousy, seriously.

3) As an abuse survivor, I am flat out asking that hgcowboy: can you please stop fucking throwing the word ABUSE around because you're insanely jealous of the woman who Jensen took with him to Rome and it's not you? Like seriously "Sleep deprivation IS abuse" - perhaps learn what actual abuse is and stop throwing that fucking word around (especially in this fucking context) for your own reasons and so you can keep your ongoing fantasy that Jensen is going to leave his wife for you for whenever the next time you meet him is (if you actually met him as you claimed). This is not the first time you've done this when it comes to the topic of Jensen and Danneel, and it needs to STOP. Every time you do it to justify your hatred and jealousy of a woman that the guy you're obsessed with is married to, you do harm to actual abuse survivors such as myself. Abuse is a serious subject and that word should not be thrown around lightly. Idgaf if you hate Danneel, you want to keep that toxicity going (as all hatred is), that's your business, but stop fucking using that word and STOP acting/saying it like you are an expert on the matter, like you do on everything else you talk about like acting, the industry, branding, Jensen's mental state, Danneel's mental state, their kids' mental states (remember that disgusting post you made about their youngest daughter because you couldn't distinguish a joking story from actual reality? saying she was a sociopath in the making? because I sure do), and psychology (spoiler alert on that one: you're not). Because from that statement alone, you clearly don't know what the fuck you're talking about. And it is absolutely disrespectful and damaging to the abuse survivor community when you say that shit and put it out into the universe. You really should be ashamed of yourself.

And those who have actually experienced abuse in any form know exactly how serious that word is, the kind of impact labeling a situation or event as such actually has, and would never use it so disrespectfully and so casually. Like I said, you ought to be ashamed.

Now for those who say Jensen was name dropping when talking about being a producer, did y'all actually watch the panel where he talks about it? He was stating how hard it was to actually get a project onto the air, no matter what the circumstances, i.e. having names attached that were highly successful. Where is the name dropping? Where is this him being so arrogant that he made himself sound like Thee Producer? Have y'all not learned by now to watch the panels for yourselves and not 100% trust the tweets that come out of these rooms? Meaning that their interpretation or translation and context may not always come across in their tweets? How many times does this need to happen in order for you to finally get it? And you guys say you're the critically thinking ones? Yeah, not so much.

Have your opinions, express them freely on your blogs or chosen social media, love/like or hate/dislike who/what you want, but for Christ's sake, can we please inject some rationale into this fandom once and for all? Not everything these guys say is meant to be taken literally or to be a sign of them being in a hostage situation with their wives that only you can help them escape from (looking at you blogger I mentioned above; just admit you're obsessed with Jensen and that's why you hate Danneel so much and go). Perhaps not all is right in the Jenneel world, perhaps there really is a separation on the horizon, perhaps there isn't, either way, it doesn't matter. It doesn't give you the right to throw that word around so casually. And you obviously haven't learned since your last claim of "abuse" that people were doing to Jared when a fan told him not to cry or she would start crying (not meant in a negative or demeaning way to him at all) in a panel a year or so ago. It's clear that you do not understand what that word means. If you truly care about the abuse survivor community, you'll stop using it for your own justifications, fantasies, and anti blog discourse.

And while we're at it, let's all just admit that half of the shit that's said about these guys (and their wives) would never be said to their faces. I seriously doubt you would say it to anyone's face if you had to look them in the eye and say it. You don't have to like these guys or these women, you're free to have your opinions and express them, but can we seriously stop with the exaggerated speculation and outlandish analysis of each word that comes out of these guys' mouths about every single aspect of their lives? We are not inside their heads, their homes, their marriages/relationships, or the inner working of their careers. Does that mean that each individual hasn't done something worth of legitimate criticism? No. They're human beings on a very public stage. Each one of them has done or said something that is not desirable and perhaps has caused you to un-fan them so to speak. But does that mean all of this fighting (i.e. Jensen fandom vs Jared fandom & Jared fandom vs Misha fandom) and toxicity and drama and spreading of negativity needs to continue? No. Why can't we just enjoy what we enjoy about this series and/or these guys and leave it at that?

It's just beyond frustrating. I swear, if I could make my own tag for this show and Jensen on here, I would. Tumblr has to come up with a better filtering tag system than the one they currently have in place.

Just had to get that out. Done.

Edit: I don't usually include names in any of these posts but after the person named here came at me the way she did, accusing me of shit I didn't do, and sicced her followers on me for no damn good reason, now Idgaf.

[thedamageofherdays]

This week's reading log is here. It's been a good reading week for me and with the start of Kinktober I am confident I will have a whole month of goodness ahead of me!

Favourites are marked with 🌻, locked fics on AO3 are marked with 🔒 and fics that are only on Tumblr are marked with 🍀

🌻 Cor Hydrae by dreamsinthewitchouse @dreamsinthewitchouse [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

”You saved my life.”

James turns his face down, can’t bear to look at Steve any longer. ”I have also lured men into their deaths,” he says, barely audibly. ”It was time I gave something in return.”

OR:

Merman Bucky nurses Steve back to health after rescuing him from drowning in the Arctic Ocean.

Captain America And The Accidental Baby Acquisition by attackofthezee (noxlunate) [Stucky, 2,5k words, General]

The baby looks up at Steve with big brown eyes and pulls it’s fists from it’s slobbery mouth to hold them out to Steve.

Right.

Right.

There’s a baby on Steve’s doorstep.

Steve can handle this.

Aka Steve Rogers And The Accidental Baby Acquisition. Aka sometimes assholes on twitter say "Captain America would never wear a papoose" and you gotta write a fic just to spite them.

Nature's Masterpieces by attackofthezee (noxlunate) [Stucky, 2k words, General]

“Snow.” Ella says solemnly, pointing towards the window and the white fluff drifting down to gather in piles outside.

“Yep. That’d be the fluffy cold white stuff out there.” Steve agrees, “We can go play in it when Pops comes home.”

Ella sighs in a way that Steve is 110% sure she’s gotten from Bucky, presses a hand to Steve’s face and says, “Daddy, listen.”

In which Steve has a precocious as hell three year old, snow ball fights are had, snow angels are made, and the future is talked about.

🌻 Wishing and Praying by jaxington [Stucky, 19,2k words, Teen]

“It’s a mistake,” Steve whispers. Neither of them have moved a muscle, too busy gaping down at the living, breathing, actually-here-somehow baby on their doorstep, blinking against the morning sunlight.

“There are no mistakes with babies,” Bucky whispers back. “That’s the whole goddamn point.”

Can You Help Me Find This Book? by Erosanderis [Stucky, 3k words, Not Rated]

Bucky Barnes was happy working as a children’s librarian in the New York Public Library. One day a little girl and her very attractive dad come in. Bucky hopelessly pines.

We Are Asleep Until We Fall in Love by Erosanderis [Stucky, 2,3k words, Not Rated]

Steve and Bucky finally go on their first date.

Sequel to “

‘Can you help me find this book?’ But can be read as a stand alone fic.

Fumbling Towards Ecstasy by thewaythatwerust @thewaythatwerust [Stucky, 11,7k words, Explicit]

Steve's whole world begins and ends with Bucky Barnes.

His heart constricts painfully every time he sees Bucky with a dame on his arm; every fiber of his body thrumming with envy. He isn't sure what it means, exactly. He doesn't know what being a fella is supposed to feel like. He doesn't know what being a dame feels like. He just knows he wants Bucky look at him the way he looks at them. To put pretty dresses and stockings on and let Bucky slowly peel them off him. To feel Bucky press into him like he does with his special dates.

To be Bucky's... girl.

🔒 A Soul as Sweet as Blood-Red Jam by pringlesaremydivision [Stucky, 2,4k words, Explicit]

It slips out. It just – slips out, and it takes half a second before Steve realizes what he’s said, and then he wants to die.

Or: Steve's daddy kink comes out to play while he's in bed with Bucky.

Just Dropkick The Shame by rohkeutta @rohkeutta [Stucky, 7,9k words, Explicit]

List of Stuff Bucky Shall Never Do:

1. Give up spider solitaire

2. Tweet TMI shit to celebrities

3. Get a fucking raise, it seems

4. Sleep with a coworker

He HAS tweeted TMI shit about celebrities, but he also has some common sense and knows that some people actually read their replies, so he a) posts only on his private account and b) never tags. Bucky's pretty sure that he's not the only person to have drunk tweeted about Captain America's daddy level, but at least he doesn't fucking call Steve Rogers 'daddy' to his face.

Until he kind of does, and breaks his fourth rule in the process.

🌻 sleeping lessons by glim [Stucky, 23,6k words, Explicit]

During the Fall Semester of 2012, Steve Rogers audits a Modern US History course.

Five Times Steve Came Out by Accident, and One Time He Came Out on Purpose by suspendedinice [Stucky, 2,8k words, Not Rated]

Steve really needs to break the habit of blurting out the first thing that comes into his head.

“Right.” Steve replies with a frown, giving up on his newspaper for now, folding it up neatly, “I suppose I’m bisexual then.”

Did he say that out loud?

Judging by the way Tony’s mouth is hanging open, he’s pretty sure he did.

The Angel From My Nightmare by Nightwing11 [Stucky, 5,9k words, Teen]

It's been three months since Bucky returned to Steve. But, despite their past friendship, not to mention their romance, the two have barely touched since their reunion.

The only exception comes at night, when their hands somehow find their way to one another, intertwining and gripping for dear life.

But, what happens when Steve returns from a mission, sleep-deprived and nightmare ridden?

Obviously Oblivious by ABrighterDarkness [Stucky, 4,2k words, Teen]

Steve supposed it didn’t help matters that Bucky started favoring the Avengers themed clothing that had started being sold almost immediately following the battle against the Chitauri. Iron Man and Black Widow hoodies. Hulk and Hawkeye sweatpants. Thor t-shirts. Plural on every one of them, and Bucky wore them all the time.

No Cap gear. Not a one.

The Buck Stops Here by theemdash [Stucky, 451 words, Teen]

The presidential campaign trail has been tough on Steve Rogers, luckily his campaign manager and best guy is along to take care of him.

🌻 Kinktober 2021 by christywantspizza @christywantspizza [Stucky, 2,7k words, Explicit]

Compilation of my Kinktober 2021 Fics

Putting Away Wet/Free Use by @howdoyousleep3 [Stucky, 4,3k words, Explicit]

The pad of James’s fore-finger digs into the flat of Steve’s tongue, a playful reprimand for nipping at skin instead of his meal, when Daddy speaks, voice resting just above a whisper.

“I want to try something out tomorrow, something I think you’ll like. You wanna play?”

🍀🌻 Dirty Talk by @howdoyousleep3 [Ari x Female Reader, 1,7k words, Explicit]

When he invited you to accompany him to a business dinner, you assumed it was to look nice on his arm.

You had no idea it was to keep him entertained all throughout the night.

🌻 overflow by thiccbuckybarnes @thiccbuckybarnesfic [Stucky, 5,8k words, Explicit]

Kinktober Day 2: hyperspermia/come inflation

Bucky is a nurse at SHIELD and freshly-thawed Cap hasn't come in literally 70 years.

[princessofprocrastination]

You Live In Sweatpants And Hoodies (GeorgeNotFound)

MASTERLIST

pairing : georgenotfound / george x influencer!reader. 

summary : george and your fans realize that under all the sweaters, you have a body. 

a/n : if you are wondering what dress i was talking about, search up jennie short black dress :)

before social media, you studied law and got a degree in it but ended up not using it due to your social media career sky rocketing. 

but you never thought studying was a waste, that could be your backup, after all. social media doesn’t last forever. and you were ready to accept any difficulties since you knew you had plan b. 

you, till this day, could not describe what you do on social media. it started with tiktok. everything nowadays started with tiktok. but you were one of the first people who was on it. 

and then tiktokers would make their way onto youtube to sustain their “career” and grow. so that’s what you did. you never abandoned that app, though. especially not now, everyone on that app is seriously hilarious. 

your content on youtube was all over the place. once, for a video, you talked to weird men on omegle and tinder. another time, you would try different aesthetics on yourself. 

but here’s the catch, you’ve never really worn revealing clothes. your mum had always told you to never deprive yourself from what she says “fun young girl things” which is dressing up, or down, in her say and go have fun with your friends. 

but since the pandemic hit, you have had no where to go anyways, and you never really liked to show off your body. it’s not that you felt uncomfortable doing it, it’s just that you’ve never had the reason to. 

you also didn’t grow up girly. you hated dresses, especially short and tight dresses. and you weren’t a fan of wearing shorts either. you always opted to go comfy. 

whenever you post a tiktok, you always wore your signature hoodie and sweatpants that were clearly sizes too big for you. but you liked it, it’s comfortable to sleep in. 

and whenever you had to pan down to show your outfits on youtube, you were always caught wearing jeans and a baggy shirt, just styled differently, according to the aesthetic of the video you were filming for. 

you heard your phone ring from the couch. you picked it up, knowing who it was anyways. “morning, cutie.” you stared. 

“morning b.” george greets you, hair everywhere, clearly just woken up. 

you and george met on tiktok, just like all good friends do. he had duetted a tiktok of yours and you found him hilarious. you quickly followed him on every single social media platform he was in. you even set an alarm in case he ever streams and you’re asleep. 

you two are close. some would say you two are dating, but you two haven’t figured it out yet. you two didn’t really want to disclose it anyways, you two knew your not so secret feelings for each other, anyways. 

remember when he called you ‘b’? yeah that stands for ‘bub’. he thought it would be cute for him to have a different nickname than the usual “baby” or “babe”. 

you two actually live very near each other, making it way easier as a couple, but since england was put into a quarantine order, you two didn’t meet often. 

some would probably ask why you’d have to set an alarm when he streams when you two clearly are in the same timezone? well, that boy had no sense of time and a terrible sleeping schedule. it amazed you at how early he got up today. 

that facetime call lasted about half an hour before you told him you needed to stream on twitch today, to which he responded to you that he’s watch it later. 

today, you had a surprise. for the world. you can’t believe you even thought about this but it was about time you showed off to the world what assets you’ve been blessed with. 

speaking of showing off. no, you weren’t a particularly insecure person, you were just comfortable in the clothes you’re in. but celebrating the long time you’ve been on social media, and it being your birthday, you thought it might be fitting. 

george and you agreed to not make anything special about your birthday. you hated parties and large gatherings, and since you were still in the middle of a pandemic, you used that as an excuse to not go out. 

you spent the longest time searching for a good enough outfit for this day. and you found it. you decided to pick a pretty simple dress, a black short dress that went to your mid thigh, that showed off your waist, spaghetti strapped and a little backless. 

you walked out the shower, your robe on as you walked to your bathroom counters to dry your hair. you didn’t really bother to style it, just leaving you straight long hair down. 

you put on the most basic white sneakers you could find to still make it casual, and you thought it went well together, anyways.

you finished you makeup and took a good look at yourself. you had been aware that you only wore baggy clothes, so this was a huge change. you twirled yourself, feeling confident. 

you couldn’t wait for people to have heart attacks. 

you sat on your gaming chair, getting ready to start your stream. 

before you started your stream, you made sure you left your facecam turned off first. 

you went live. chat was confused since this was the first time that you’re not on facecam. all they could see at the moment was the caption “IT’S MY BIRTHDAY!” that you typed on your notes app on your computer.

“hi, chat.” you said, to calm them down a little. 

you heard your phone go off, a text notification. which you knew was george since he had a special notification ping on your phone. 

it said “did you forget to turn on your cam?” 

you laughed at that. “no, chat, i haven’t forgotten to turn on my facecam, just wait for a sec, please.” 

you felt giddy, excited for the reactions. 

instead of wearing your cute cat headphones, you wore your airpods instead to get the whole look going. 

you let out a sigh before moving your mouse cursor to linger on the ‘start recording camera’ button. you clicked on it, before moving your chair back to fully say hi to your chat. 

you brought your hands up to wave to the camera. you tilted your head slightly. “soooo, it’s my birthday.” you said. 

chat was going crazy so you stopped reading them so you wouldn’t get a headache. the donations went crazy too, but you tried your best to read them all. 

you thanked the people who subscribed to you or gifted you subs. 

“360 of this dress? sure, i’ll give you a twirl.” you replied a dono. 

you stood up, and rolled your gaming chair away so that they can see your whole outfit. you spun around once, quickly telling them where you got the dress from. 

you tried to hold your foot on one hand, balancing yourself to show them that you could go casual in this dress too. 

what you noticed was that, your phone hadn’t stopped beeping from a text notification, which belonged to the one and only georgenotfound. 

and since maybe he noticed that you won’t check your phone, he sent a donation instead. 

“WHAT THE FUCK.” the monotoned voice read out the donation, which was from george. 

you facepalmed, knowing exactly what his reaction is like at home. 

“I’M COMING OVER.” the voice said again. you laughed at his antics. 

“see you then.” you replied, laughing, knowing he was joking around anyways. 

-

GEORGE’S POV 

she thinks i’m joking, isn’t she? 

well, she gave me her spare key for a reason, and this would be the best reason. 

i knew i wanted to come around anyways. just after her stream. i promised her no going out, but not no gifts and ordering in. 

sneaky, i know. 

i had a plan brewing in my mind. to walk in her house as quietly as possible, to surprise her. 

after seeing her in that dress, i don’t think i can stand our fans not knowing we aren’t dating. 

i know, i haven’t really asked her out, but we kinda both agreed that there was no use, knowing each other’s feeling was good enough and that we didn’t need to do anything extravagant. 

i don’t know what she’s tell her fans but i’m sure i hadn’t disclose our relationship. the fans shipped us, sure, but i don’t think i’ve ever said it out loud. 

we knew we’d have to say it someday. so i thought, why not today? as i surprised her at her own house. 

her fans watching her stream are tweeting at me like crazy. no one had seen her like that. she practically lives in sweats and hoodies, constantly. 

the most fitting thing i’ve seen her wear is skinny jeans, but she would always wear a baggy top with it. people always say she drowns in her clothes, but i never complained, she looked good either ways. 

but seeing her in that dress, damn. i needed to be there and hug her, kiss her. i couldn’t wait to see her in that dress, right in front of my eyes. 

our observant fans or close friends have asked if she dresses the same at home, and my answer always stayed the same. that she lives in baggy clothes. 

there are some creepy people out there who would ask that question in a sexual way. thinking i’ve seen her in less. but truthfully, i haven’t. we’re not pass that stage, and we prefer it this way. 

what the fans see is what i see on the daily, too. 

and no, me going to her house to see her more clearly in that dress doesn’t mean we’re doing anything. i just want to observe her beauty. see what she’s hid from me. 

-

YOUR POV

chat was going crazy over george’s donation. but you still laughed it off. it’s all a joke anyways, him coming over. 

he was coming over later, after noon, so he wouldn’t just drop everything to see you right now. 

“geez. chill out, chat, george was joking.” you told them. 

you sat on your gaming chair more comfortably as you started playing a couple rounds of among us with your fans. you told them not to cheat and watch your stream as they’re playing ad lucky you, they listened. 

for some reason, your chat still kept blowing up with george comments. maybe they were still caught up on that comment he said earlier. 

but you hadn’t thought that he’d be behind you the entire time, telling the chat to not make it obvious. 

“happy birthday, b” you heard a very familiar voice from behind you. 

you almost had a whiplash from how quick you turned your head to see who was behind you. 

you stood up to hug him, almost falling to the floor, stumbling on your own feet.

with the way you ran to him, he almost fell to the floor. “you’re here, you’re here.” you kept repeating it to him, not believing that he actually came. you knew he’d come later, but not this early. 

george moved you back gently to see your full outfit. you two were aware that the facecam is still on, and pointing to you two, seeing every move. 

“come here.” he whispered to you before grabbing your waist, to kiss you. 

you two took a little while enjoying each other’s company, still in front of everyone on twitch. 

he moved you back a little, turning you to face your gaming monitors. “MY GIRLFRIEND, EVERYBODY. isn’t she so hot, oh my god.” he said to the stream. 

you laughed at his stupid antics, covering your face with your hands as you blushed. 

your chat didn’t stop talking about the interaction, not believing that their ship was finally sailing. 

you played a couple more rounds of among us with them, george taking over sometime or making funny comments to entertain your chat while you played. 

after the stream, george and you took time to enjoy the time alone, ordering in your favourite food and opening gifts that he bought you. 

you forgot to mention that both of your twitter was blowing up too much that you had to mute it for a while. you knew that a lot had screenshot the cute moment. 

you took note to screenshot some of the photos on twitter later. 

[wonderofasunrise]

32 or 61 for Kerry/Susan please ❤️

#61 - "I'm pregnant."

Okay, I'm letting the cat out of the bag now - I have a WIP, a passion project of some sorts in the form of a multi-chapter Kerry/Susan AU fic. I've been working on it on and off for months, writing whatever I can come up with out of order (a process which involves at least three different Google Docs files for notes etc and not-so-subtly tweeting about it every now and then), and I can't promise anything because I just...well, suck at planning things ahead especially when it comes to writing anything lengthy (unless it's an academic essay *laughs nervously*). Fingers crossed I will be able to post the whole thing someday - if and *only* if I manage to finish it in advance, because I love the idea so much I don't want to take the risk of posting it early and writing as I go along...only to (God forbid) abandon it. I don't want to give away too much, but hopefully you'll get the gist from this excerpt of one of the chapters I've managed to finish:

“Susan?” a voice calls me almost immediately as I step out of the cubicle. I look up in a swift move to find the source of the voice, and sure enough my head starts to spin again. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see none other than Kerry Weaver—her bright red hair kind of gives it away—with a very concerned look on her face, which I try my best to ignore.

Slowly, I make my way to the nearest basin, and just as my hand is about to turn the faucet another wave of nausea surges over me. Please do not vomit, please do not vomit, it was bad enough to storm out of a fucking trauma but to vomit in front of Kerry of all people…?

“Are you okay?” she asks just as my nausea passes, the tone of her voice as concerned as her expression. I know that at this point even saying a single syllable will bring back the nausea, so I simply nod.

“Are you sure? I was in the trauma room, and I was just as surprised as everyone else to see you storm out like that…”

“Yes, Kerry, I’m fine,” I suddenly snap, though immediately I can feel guilt lingering over me as I know Kerry is genuinely worried. Say what you want about her, the woman does care about the wellbeing of her colleagues (or employees? Whatever.). I glance at her while putting some water into my mouth, somewhat grateful that I don’t see any sign of her being offended. If anything, her expression grows even more worried, and I know that at this point there is nothing I say that can ease her concern.

“Okay,” Kerry says, seemingly giving in. “It’s just—you normally have the best composure of the lot, and I never expected a trauma to affect you that badly, that’s all…Susan? Can you walk?”

Her concerned tone returns as soon as she catches the sight of me dropping to my knees, no doubt thanks to me turning around too quickly after I finished my business in the sink. Instinctively one of my hands travels to my stomach, and I pray to all that’s holy that the gesture somehow goes unnoticed by Kerry, who is now kneeling next to me, her crutch abandoned, with one of her hands on my back.

“Can you stand up?” she asks in a tone that I would never expect Kerry Weaver to use when speaking to an adult. I nod, though I myself am not quite sure. I try anyway, with one of my hands still firmly on my stomach and the other holding onto Kerry for support. Once I get back on my feet, I let go of the other woman and I take a deep breath, relieved when no more sign of nausea kicks in. I try to make my way out of the ladies’ room, and I can feel Kerry’s eyes firmly on my back as I turn around—more carefully this time.

“You know, if you’re not feeling good, you can go home and rest,” she says. “I-I would hate to see you not in your prime at work, and more importantly it’s clear you really can do with a rest. We have a busy day ahead, and if you’re...feeling like you’re not up for it, you can go home. I can cover for you.”

I can tell she chose her words carefully, and she tried her best not to insinuate that I am not up for a busy day at work. Heck, she knows I’m more than capable—I’m one of her best attendings, after all, but still…who can really guess what Kerry Weaver actually means?

As for going home and resting, I can’t deny that I need it badly. I barely got any sleep last night, partly due to anxiety ahead of my appointment with Coburn this morning, and who can guarantee that I won’t storm out of another trauma? Still, part of me is trying to fight the urge to go home, because work is the best form of distraction I can think of and at home I know I will drive myself mad over everything, with no one to talk to and all.

“I’m pregnant,” I suddenly blurt out, the words coming out of my mouth far more quickly than I could comprehend. My eyes grow wide at the realization of what I just said, to Kerry of all people, and I try to avoid her eyes so much it’s ridiculous.

Unexpectedly enough, Kerry steps closer toward me, and she puts a hand on my shoulder. Just as unexpectedly, I find the gesture quite comforting, and God knows I have been deprived of comfort for far too long the last couple of weeks. It doesn’t feel as awkward as one would expect, coming from Kerry Weaver, and I sigh as I let her hand give my shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“How-how far along are you?” she asks in a tone that can barely conceal her surprise.

“Four weeks. I-I saw Coburn this morning,” I say with a shrug. She nods, and then lets go of my shoulder so that she can focus on looking me in the eye, which always makes for an interesting sight thanks to our significant height difference.

“In that case,” she states matter-of-factly, “You should go home and rest. I don’t want you to feel worse than you already do. Go home, get something to eat, and rest. I’ll cover for you for the rest of the shift.”

Now that sounds more like the Kerry Weaver that everyone knows and loves (though that part is still up for debate, I reckon). At this point I know there is no use fighting with her, so I nod and turn back to the door, silently hoping that somehow nobody will pay any attention.

“Kerry?” I mutter, suddenly remembering something important before we part ways. Letting her know of my pregnancy is bad enough (though it’s by no means a fault on her part); having everyone else know before I’m ready will be a disaster. I have enough on my plate at the moment, and the last thing I need is being the center of the latest ER gossip. “Um…thank you for letting me go home for the day, and I guess—well, I would really appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone. I have too much to deal with at the moment,” I say in a voice so low I will be surprised if she actually listens.

But apparently she did, because she nods and puts a hand on one of my arms and gives it a gentle squeeze—which, again, does not feel as awkward as one would expect coming from her.

“Of course,” she responds. “It’s not my call to let people know. It’s yours, and yours only. Don’t worry about it.”

And with that, I mouth a thank you before exiting the ladies’ room, trying my best to forget everything that has happened today. It’s not even noon yet, and too much has already taken place. Perhaps Kerry is right: I really can do with a rest.

[multisfabulis]

Love’s Descent into Madness

Dethronement (Chapter 3/3)

Word Count: 3627

TW: Graphic depictions of violence, gore, decapitation, and major character death

Happy holidays!

I hope everyone likes the ending because writing this was suffering. Winter decided to come early this year and I absolutely hate the cold so a lot of this was written with numb fingers. The past few days have also been tiring and, because I wanted to get this out before Christmas, I had to pull an all-nighter to finish this and rewrite it to make it look pretty so this was a sleep-deprived fic.

Okay, so I have some things I need to explain:

First off, that line about Ayano needing to apply herself more to her schoolwork was actually a reference to a piece of fanart I saw of Saeru (in disguise as Kenjirou) helping Ayano with her homework and subtly taking digs at her the whole time. I just thought of it while I was writing that paragraph and thought it'd be a neat reference. I can't find the Tweet but I'm hoping someone has a link to it!

Second off, that instance of Kenjirou almost ruining Saeru's plan is a bit of foreshadowing to another Kagepro fic I'm in the works of writing. It may not be the next Kagepro fic I write but it IS coming.

Thirdly, the whole meaning behind Azami not being able to die but still being killed. I know it sounds like the "People die when they are killed" meme but let me explain. I needed to think of a way Azami could still die but without anyone telling me "She's immortal, she can't die" so the way I went about it is, the Queen Snake was what let her be immortal. Because that was the snake that, in my fic, marked her as a god, she couldn't die. Once she gave that snake to Marry, she lost her god status, bringing her down to our level. However, because she was still a Gorgon, I made it so that she couldn't die by natural causes, I.E. starvation, sleep deprivation, etc. She was now an immortal mortal, meaning she couldn't die from natural causes BUT she could now be killed. I don't know if this makes a lot of sense but this is the best way I can describe it.

Finally, the ending. It only occurred to me when I was writing the build-up to it that I wanted to make it a sort of dark twist on Kagepro's themes of moving on after a loved one's death. Saeru decides to move on after Azami's death but he regarded her as dead years ago and was the one to kill her. I don't know if it worked the way I wanted it to but I tried my best.

I'm happy this didn't take that long unlike another past project of mine and I hope everyone who's read this enjoyed it!

Read on AO3 | Read on DA | Support me on Ko-fi!

     The never-ending world, or the Daze as it was now called, had undergone many changes over the years. It was only natural since it was ordered to swallow up any unfortunate souls that were unlucky enough to die on August 15th and the world needed to accommodate for its ever increasing number of occupants. Yet there were some things that never changed, no matter how much time had passed. Absence truly did make the heart grow fonder.

     He was in very familiar territory. Casually strolling through the dark woods revealed a large clearing where a small decrepit house stood. The moon’s radiance acted as if it were a spotlight, shining down upon it to let him know she was here. It may be an inferior replica but there was no mistaking it. Saeru was home.

     It had been several years since his departure from the Daze. The rest of his siblings were gone, having ventured out to the real world in their human vessels and he couldn’t blame them for leaving. Who’d want to stay in a place where the only company you had was a good-for-nothing has-been of a queen? That’s why he followed the example his four siblings set and escaped when the opportunity presented itself. He really wanted to thank them when he had the chance.

     The body he left in was a person by the name of Tateyama Kenjirou. A hardworking teacher and devoted family man, he and Saeru met when he and his wife were caught in a landslide. Saeru promised to bring her back if the man allowed him to reside in his body and he accepted his terms of the bargain. That was how their unlikely partnership began, union between human and snake.

     It felt simply amazing to have a body to control. While it had taken him some time to adapt and familiarize himself with human behavior, he nevertheless reveled in it. No longer was he a snake relegated to devising plans. He had the means to carry them out himself and no one would be none the wiser. At least, that’s what he believed before a certain idiotic girl proved him wrong.

     He had to give her some credit. Not only did she figure out most of his plan just by reading her father’s research but she learned of his existence all due to a small yet sloppy mistake. If she only applied that amount of effort into her schoolwork, then she wouldn’t have been as stupid as she led herself to believe. There was, however, one thing she didn’t take into account.

     She thought killing herself would stop him from going after everyone. What she didn’t think about was the advantage her death would give him. One less person to worry about ruining his plan and she left behind a perfectly traumatized helper. The damn brat was like putty in his hands; a few convincing threats to his precious “family” and a deal with the devil was made.

     But then the dear old professor kept butting into his business. There were several times over the past two years where he came out because he wanted to spend some “quality time” with the remainder of his family. There was one instance he could recall in which his plan was almost thwarted but Saeru was able to take back the reins. It was too easy to pull the wool over his partner’s eyes and trick him into thinking he was dreaming. It wasn’t like he was lying to him, he was just using the information he knew about humans to his benefit.

     Today was when his plan was truly enacted. All the necessary people had arrived, including his traitorous sibling. Konoha, as they were now called, seemed to have forgotten what the humans did to their real family all those years ago and had allied with them. Their compassion for them had its perks, though. It only took one well-aimed bullet to strike them down, leaving them open for a permanent takeover.

     The resulting bloodbath was nothing short of marvelous. Having a body, especially one such as his, meant much more fun and creative ways to play with his toys. Spines breaking as they hit concrete walls and organs hitting the floor with a wet slap was like music to his ears. He even ripped out a pathetic shut-in’s throat with his bare hands just because he could and it was oh so enjoyable to hear him choke on his own blood. Too bad it was over all too soon.

     The crybaby brat was left as the sole survivor. He knew what she was capable of and she was the essential component. Yet, he couldn’t help feeling a small sort of kinship with her, which he found funny. He was, in a way, her subject and she his queen but it felt as if they were equals. Perhaps, if he had her powers, he too could rewind time to the point he would’ve taken a different path. To spend more time with the one he loved above all else… That was a dream best left in the past.

     He decided to leave her be so she’d be able to mourn her losses. He needed to use the little time he had to take care of unfinished business. He fled from the scene by going through the portal she created in the midst of her despair.

     He found himself in what seemed to be a white void. The floor beneath him rippled when his feet touched the surface and he realized he was standing on water. His reflection stared back at him when he cast his eyes downward. The body his sibling graciously gifted to him allowed him to change it however he wanted and he liked the changes he made. A vessel specifically tailored just for him was such a wonderful thing and it was a shame to have to give it up.

     A pair of small black horns stuck out of long dark hair tied into a braid. Black scales painted the edges of his face and eyes, trailing down his neck before concealing themselves under the layers of clothes. He kept his red eyes and fangs from when he was a snake so he’d still be recognizable. Blood coated his hands and stained the only article of pristine white clothing he wore, which he hoped would intimidate his prey. She’d never see this coming.

     Finding an exit out of the void was simple. All he had to do was take a step and he was in an entirely different place. There were an endless amount of stairs and corridors leading to doors, most of what he could see on fire. The heat was surprisingly pleasant as he wandered around the seemingly limitless labyrinth. It was then he spotted a tangle of black hair with a sliver of red hastily entering one of the doors. With a rush of adrenaline running through his veins, he ran towards the door. It had been so long since he played his favorite game of cat and mouse.

     He chased her through many areas of the Daze. One was of a ruined city where the setting sun gave way too many shadows for her to hide in. Another was of an urban landscape, not unlike a major street intersection, where there were dozens of blood splatters decorating the asphalt. It was after he cut across a nighttime city he arrived at his destination.

     Mother was inside. The house she and her wretched human “family” lived and laughed in for the few years they stayed there. It was fitting for her and him to settle their issues in the same place their troubles began. She’ll regret leaving behind the ones that truly loved her.

     He walked up to the house. Overgrown grass crept over the foundation and ivy crawled all along the flaky walls. There were broken shards of glass inside the windows, which would make it hard for trespassers to sneak in without alerting anyone. Parts of the roof had collapsed inward and the front door was hanging on by a thread. Mother’s really let the place go, hasn’t she?

     He stopped just before the door. How did he want to approach this? She had to know he was here so there was no need in being stealthy. He then did the next best thing, which was to kick the door down till he was inside. He smashed through it, reducing it to mere splinters. That was easy.

     The room he was in now was the same room he proposed the idea of creating this world to Mother. It was empty, save for a few pieces of overturned furniture scattered about the place and debris from the roof. Moonlight shone down from above, illuminating the room, though it wasn’t necessary. He could see perfectly well in the dark, despite the limitations of his “human” body.

     There were two doors that stood in front of him. Beyond them were bedrooms, one being that brat Shion’s and the other Mother’s. It was a coin toss as to which room she was hiding in and he hated wasting time with trivial matters like this. Besides, even if he did end up picking the wrong choice, she wouldn’t get away undetected. His hearing was almost as good as hers and she knew that.

     An idea sprang into his mind to try luring her out. He stood at the wall separating the two rooms, wound up his fist, and punched it. The sheer power in the hit caused a crater to form in the wall as dust sprinkled down from the ceiling. He heard something fall from behind the left door and a sharp intake of breath. The corners of his mouth curved up as he tried to fight back a laugh. There she was.

     Keeping his excitement in check, he pushed open the door. Inside the room were the remains of a bed with two nightstands on either side of it and an empty window over to the right. He didn’t need the light coming in from a hole in the ceiling to see her. Mother sat in a corner of the room, her whole body shaking.

     She hadn’t changed at all. She still had the same cascade of raven hair tied up with a red ribbon, the same black dress. The same red eyes resembling his own were now staring at him in pure fear. It must’ve been quite the shock for her to see Saeru walking around and being able to express his moods in a more effective way. She’d finally know how much and how deep his feelings ran.

     “It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Mother?” he asked, putting on a fake smile.

     When she didn’t respond, he continued on with, “Nothing to say to me? Not even a welcome home? I know the last time we talked was years ago but I thought you’d still have some love in your heart for me. But I guess not.”

     She still hadn’t said anything. He was getting rather annoyed at the silent treatment, even if it did bring him a modicum of amusement. Does she really think staying quiet in this situation will save her? Well, he had a way of making her talk and he deserved to brag about his accomplishments.

     “If you can’t already tell, I paid a visit to the real world,” he said, noting the sudden pique of interest. “It’s changed so much since our time out there. I’ve met so many interesting people during my trip, including the kids my siblings are inhabiting the bodies of. I even got the chance to meet your successor, what was her name again? Ah, right, Marry.”

     He saw the quick flash of anger across her face as she asked, “What did you do to her?”

     “You can rest easy,” he replied, his temper beginning to flare up. “I haven’t laid a finger on that crybaby brat’s head. She’s all right, physically, at least.”

     It was then her eyes wandered down to his blood-soaked hands. Gone was the anger as horror came to replace it at the grisly sight. He wondered when she’d notice that and he was pleased to know her reaction was how he predicted it to be. Her imagination had to be running wild with all the ways that blood got on his hands. The temptation of telling her his gruesome acts was there but this was more fun.

     “Her mind, though, must be forever scarred,” he said with a dissonant smile. “I imagine her heart shattered to pieces after I killed her friends.”

     “Why are you doing this?!” she demanded, her teary eyes full of fury. “Why must you hurt me so?”

     All the fun he was having at her expense evaporated. Was she being serious? Did she really have the gall to ask why he was doing all this? Maybe it was time to remind her of the fault she held in this.

     “I think the better question is, why did you choose them over us? Why did you abandon us?” He crouched down and rested his cheek on his hand.

     “What are you talking about? I never abandoned you or your siblings! I tried my best to have the two most important things in my life get along without any issue.” She gestured to him with her hand. “You were the only one who had a problem with it!”

     His eyes narrowing, he asked in indignation, “How could you expect me to not have a problem with it? How could you forget all the pain, all the suffering, all the torment the humans dealt on to you? How could you run off with that man and bear his child after everything they’ve done to you?”

     It was at this point she stood up. He did as well, noticing the hard glint of stubbornness in her eyes. He already knew what was coming and he didn’t want to hear the same old, tired speech.

     “Tsukihiko was different. He was kind to me, he cared for me.” She put a hand on her chest, where her heart was. “He loved me. He was treated the same way I was so---”

     “So you thought you and him were the same? Please,” he interrupted, scoffing at the ridiculousness of the thought. “You and that man were never the same and you know why? He was but a mere mortal and you a god. You will never belong with the humans, no matter how much you try and forget that fact.”

     “What do you want from me? An apology, is that it?” she asked, exasperated. He wanted much more than empty platitudes.

     “What I want is for you to understand exactly how much you’ve hurt me.” He took a couple steps toward her, causing dust to rain down on top of him. “You refused to heed my warnings, took that brat’s side over mine, and you tried to leave me behind in this world. Who does that to someone they once claimed to love? Someone whose only crime was loving them?

     “You’ve become the very thing you’ve never wanted to be.” He locked eyes with her and gave voice to all the pain and scorn he felt. “You’re a monster.”

     It was as if he stabbed her through the gut with a knife. Tears spilled over as she fell to her knees, holding her head in her hands. It was bad enough for the humans to call her that when they knew nothing about her. It must’ve been like a betrayal to hear that come from someone she once considered to be her closest friend. Still, he got a dark sense of satisfaction seeing her break down. It served her right to feel only a fraction of the pain he’s dealt with for years.

     “And yet--” he paused as she looked up at him-- “despite everything you did to me, I still love you. I was created to serve you and be with you for however long you wanted but I grew to genuinely love you. How could I not?”

     She withdrew further into the corner after he stepped closer. The question he wanted, needed to ask leapt into his mind. A simple yes or no question and whatever her answer was would determine what he’d do next.

     “It’s because of my love for you I ask,” he began, paying close attention to her face, “if you still hold some fondness for the humans. Do you still love your family?”

     Without any hesitance in her voice, she replied with, “Of course I do. I’ll always love them. Tsukihiko, Shion, Marry…I love them all from the bottom of my heart.”

     That was the answer he feared to hear. Her saying that proved to him she was too far gone and needed to be put out of her misery. They took everything away from her, from her happiness to her sanity. It’s because he loved her he’d be willing to give her the sweet release she deserved.

     He started walking towards her. She tried to crawl away from him but found herself cornered with no means of escape. A wicked grin split across his face as he came into the moon’s silvery ray of light. He stopped just short of her, towering above her small, trembling form.

     “What are you going to do to me?” she asked, scared for her life. “Whatever it is, I can’t die.”

     “Oh, Mother…” He knelt down in front of her and cupped her cheeks. Her scales were smooth to the touch as he wiped away her tears. “You’re right in that you can’t die. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be killed.”

     His smile growing ever larger, he said, “You lost your immortality the moment you passed on your crown.”

     Her eyes widened in horror as his hands slid down to her neck. He could feel her pulse thudding against his palms, his slender fingers wrapped around her throat. She softly whimpered and he leaned in close. He whispered into her ear his final words before her denouement.

     “Goodnight, Mother.”

     It wasn’t hard to crush her windpipe. Her nails dug into his arms in a desperate attempt to fight back but he merely brushed them off. He knew she was close to death when her eyes started to roll to the back of her head. Then he had an idea to end this in something more similar to his style.

     Her skin began to tear apart as he pulled her head up like a weed. The sound of her neck breaking echoed in the empty house. He finally ripped her head off her shoulders, blood pouring out of the stump as he stood up. Her body slumped onto the floor, the moon’s light reflected off the crimson pool.

     Mother’s bright red eyes were now dull and lifeless. Her mouth lolled open and what little saliva she had trickled out of the corners. He could see just a sliver of her vertebrae sticking out of the bottom of her neck. He untied the ribbon holding her hair up, wiped the spit away with his sleeve, and shut her eyes. Her dark tresses felt soft on his skin as he touched their foreheads together.

     “We’ll be together forever, right, Mother?” he said with a depraved smile before crazed laughter spilled out of his mouth like a stream.

     It was only a matter of waiting now before time was reset. How far back it’d go, he didn’t know. Even if it was as far back to the beginning, he’d remember the events of this loop an do them again. He’d do them again and again to his heart’s content and no one would be able to stop him.

     The only thing he wouldn’t commit again was his act of matricide. It was a one time thing and it was done to give him “closure” or whatever the humans called it. Mother warped into someone he didn’t recognize and he needed to accept that the person he knew had died a long time ago. At least he’ll always have his memories of her kept close to his heart.

     It was time to look forward and move ahead to the future. Whatever the next summers brought, he was sure to enjoy every last bit.

[spnsmile]

[Hello! I understand this can be upsetting to some so tags are on: RPF, ENGINE FAILURE, ANGST, EMOTIONALLY HURT/ COMFORT/ FLUFF] work of fiction BUT FLUFF/ KISSES

Response to @cocklesdestielfiction​ prompt BOTTLE (Cockles, a 5K story)

“The right engine exploded… like… BOOM!”

— Richard Speight Jr. (VegasCon 2020)

********

“Where’s Misha?”  says Jensen above the steady hum of the plane’s engine blending with sounds of shuffling bags, pitter-patters, and clinking glasses but Misha can always hear him perfect pitch or not.

“Here.” he heaved himself from the end of the aisle after unloading his personal bag with the other smaller luggage. He can hear Cliff talking to the attendant by the coach but he’s just too tired to say hello. 

“Hey, Cliff.” 

Misha’s eyebrows rake up and unfortunately for him that’s all he can muster with his limp. There’s a blunt grunt from the security papa bear.

“Nappy time for you, Misha. You look shit.”

“Thanks.” he grimaces. After ten hours on set (and that’s without Jared), he’s just too exhausted. Stalking to the cabin seats, Misha joined the others with bleary eyes.

He catches glinting green whose cherry lips begin to form into a wild smile. There has to be some rule about instant rejuvenation just from receiving that dose from such a nice face.

Richard beats them both in whatever shit they were about to say.

“Service is slowing, Misha. Your customer’s been addressing his complaints to the not-so-proper authorities.”Misha sniggers.

 “Who’s proper here, do tell.”

“Jensen’s not being proper at adulting.” Alex supplies staring out at the green primo uomo Misha’s been ignoring. The whine comes. It’s like a sweet tickle on his ears. Petulant and cheeky growly voice—signs Misha learned—since his first day—never to encourage.

“Misha! Mish! One more call you’re gonna deliver a bar.” 

He turns.

“Been callin you out.” 

“You do that to spite me, fucker.” Misha drawls, walking to Jensen and holding out another bottled water that has to be his 8th. “Here. Don’t believe the media when they tell you the world will never run out of water. Maison says the water sprites will invoke the right to strike just on principle.”

“Sweet faerie. But I believe you. You just hoarded eight hundred Aquafina.” 

“And who’s fault is that?”

If Jensen wasn’t giggling so dorkily at him, he would have snatched the bottle and cursed him for the reminder. But Misha couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corner of lips. Even Rich and Alex hark laughter at the meaning.

Cause Misha Collins just had a truck of bottled water delivered on set that’s still causing stomach hurts from the cast. Recently, Jensen had taken up the habit of ‘mentioning Misha ’on set as a result of that one interview involving some intense heart eyes and delivery of drinks caught on camera. Nothing to deny there, relationships over ten years tend to turn if not bitter-sweet memories, then the opposite tooth-rotting.

This takes the cake. Everyone began doing the same.

Of course, Misha— pleased by the attention and a new game to distract himself from the already distracting Jensen, returned all summons. Misha who was never one to do things halfway and pledged on delivering all sorts of drinks every Jensen pings his name—except apple juice, jesus. 

But it’s one of those feats that usually get out of control in Supernatural so by the end of the first week, everyone’s just going ‘Misha.’ He liked that a lot. Also, like the truckload of bottled water delivered on set much to their amusement.

When Vicky saw the number on their credit card receipt, she didn’t even raise an eyebrow. Oh, but he wanted to tell her anyway.

All fun aside, Misha’s particularly grumpy now for another reason. Sleep-deprived and emotionally drained after pouring everything on that last take, he’s now headed to Vegascon with this little group. It was nice Jared arranged his private plane to take them. The pretty convenient thing when a pandemic is out there.

Jensen looks tired too, dark lines under the eyes, lips dry— thus the water bottle Misha’s been carrying around— but how the fuck he managed to radiate with teenage energy even when it’s already late will forever evade Misha who wants to snuggle beside him but instead just looks him straight in the eyes.

“Fuck you,” he mouths, backing to his empty chair.

“Do it.” Jensen teases him and Misha will not appreciate that radiance of beauty pulling him in.

“Can’t, there’s our kid here. Don’t wanna make it awkward.”

Alex shakes his head. “Nope. I think I’ve seen the worst of it.”

“That’s what you think.” Misha chuckles.

“Buckle up, Mishano, signals on.” Richard turns his back from the window facing Jensen with red-light flashing above their heads. “Let’s save the Cockles once we’re in Vegas, kay guys? Innocent guy trying to avoid diabetes so save the Cockles.”

“Save the Cockles.” Alex fumbles inside his jacket to fix his earphones. 

Misha and Jensen roll eyes at each other and Misha returns to his spot. Jensen is directly on his line of sight so it’s quite easy to check out on him, maybe snap adorable photos and stack it on his 100 terabyte collection he can post someday when he’s 90.

Taking his phone out after securing his belt, he hears the pilot give instructions as the plane begins to move. Soon, he’s immersing himself with replies on tweets and messages on his number using his extra handphone. Zoning out wasn’t difficult, especially when trying to block out the funny feeling of the engine preparing to take off. They’re all used to it by now.

A few minutes later, they all feel the usual sensation of slowing down bodily before the plane thrusts forward— Misha closes his eyes,  hands clasping his chair until they feel the plane level after the accent.  When he opens his eyes, he hears everyone including him take a deep breath. There are exchanges of words but he is already glued to his phone answering messages sleepily. He’s so tired he can sleep forever. His eyes begin to droop and he sighs in content, finally able to rest even for just minutes.

Till there’s a gentle nudge on his leg. 

He ignores it.

Another kick. 

No.

“Mish.” Kick again.

Misha grimaces. Such long reach for bowlegs…

“Misha, I swear—”

“Social distance, Jen?” he opens his eyes, obviously grumpy.

“A truckload of beer from Poland sounds nice, I’d prefer that.” Jensen wags the water bottle with mischievous dimples showing off on the corner of his cheek. Misha frowns and shuts his eyes again. Good god for distractions. Good god for soft manly middlemen with so much energy…

“Mish…”

Ignore him.

“Mish!”

Imagine if Jared’s around…

“Hey, Misha, Poland beer really—”

Misha’s eyes flutter open.

“No, honey, I will not argue with you about Polish ‘Alkohole,’ it’s not even articulated the same.” Misha throws a grumpy look over notorious green-eyed lynx whose chuckling over his misery, “You’re gonna fuck with me again and I’ll have another story in my head I am unable to tell a soul as its rightfully not for children, sorry, Alex.” 

Ball on Alex’ court, he blinks from Jensen to Misha quietly then shakes his head.

“I am legally an adult.” He obviously could hear them from his pods. Misha raises a finger.

“Correction, the show says you’re 3. All fanfiction does.”

“I’m married.” Alex injects in amusement.

“Fanfiction says Misha and I are married.” comes from Rich’s corner. 

At this Misha sits up, preparing his list of things why Misha-will-never-be-married-to-Richard-Speight-Who-Got-a-Rob impromptu—

“I’m married.” Alex retorts but Richard and Misha are bickering over the type of marriage to hear him.

“You both can say whatever the hell you want, Cockles will top.” 

Sometimes Jensen just can’t bridle it. Sending Misha his heart eyes flirtatiously, he stops the argument with a wink. Misha giggles with all tiredness gone, replying to Alex about marriage while Rich says something about Jibcon to Jensen when things begin to go wrong.

Misha did not see it happen. He was busy looking over Jensen, admiring the bravado and confidence about the newly found comfort over their relationship (and their characters) when a loud bang from his right splits the air, followed by crashing sounds of that thing that Misha dreads, one of the worst sounds he never wants to hear in his life.

 But that’s only just the beginning.

The first explosion rocked the plane violently forward, then topples without warning to their right. It throws them off with seatbelts tightening—making them grab around the seats, stomach in their throat as they keep their steady hold. 

Misha looks outside to the cloud of smoke and crashing debris, his mind tuning only to the present and hears himself as well as Jensen and Richard cursing with jesuschrists. Misha doesn’t know. He was never a steadfast believer but for this one, he’s already calling out god. 

The show’s influence is deeper than he thought. He thinks of all the near-death experiences he’s had but it’s nothing compared to this one. For one, he can only look at Jensen and the feeling sinks in the hollowness of his guts.

This is worse, much worse than the drop tower ride or any gyro drop his children always admired him for riding. No. Here the safety belts that kicked in didn't secure anything from the loud crashing sounds that pierced their ears, the shrill sound of the engine roaring like as it beat fragments unto the air leaving maybe nothing of its parts. How many engines are exploding?

Misha doesn’t close his eyes. He tries to deny the possibility that this is where him, Jensen—  Alex, god Alex just got married! He’s so much more ahead of his life— and Rich just might finally find their end. An irony of life where the show that’s keeping their lives together now also on the way to its end. A kind of twist in reality that’s been shown by many, if not more famous names ahead of himself but Misha tries not to think about them. He tries not to think about the same profession that killed them. He can’t afford it, oh god his children…

He realized he didn’t even kiss West goodbye the morning he left. How he left the unkempt dish on the sink in a hurry. How he didn’t check Maison’s daily log of mischief she does while he’s away.

Now he may not return.

He closes his eyes as the plane shudders violently again. Please...

He calls Castiel’s name too, the back of his mind telling him they're dying. A more humorous, sadistic side of himself adding Dean is here, and that angel of Thursday isn’t going to let his husband die.  They shouldn’t. He and Castiel shouldn’t.

But he’s no Castiel. He’s only Misha.

If anyone asked him how he felt when the plane steadies itself as the pilots pull for control, Misha is not sure anyone would believe him. For the briefest second, he feels this tug at the back of his mind telling him it will be alright and the remarkable part is, Misha believed it. Fucking believe the whisper.

That’s when everything settles down.

Misha quickly looks around at Jense, Rich, and Alex. All of them are pale and he knows he doesn’t look any better. He wants to throw up but the uncertainty of the flight kept him guarded, his grip on the armchair not loosening.

“You guys alright?” Jensen’s voice much deeper than Misha remembers barely managed a nod.

Alex is looking at the floor with concentration where laptops, neck pillows, cups, and stuff are all scattered on the ground. Richard looks as if he’s going to throw up the way he’s holding his stomach. Jensen is staring outside the right window while Misha tells himself to breathe.

“Are you alright?” comes Cliff’s low voice from behind Misha sounding obviously shaken too but still steady. Misha didn’t have time to collect himself. Not that he’s stupid, his body just doesn’t get it, but he quickly pulls his phone and begins texting Vicky and the children.

“What the hell happened?” Richard turns his head over the cockpit when the rumbling dies down.

“Right engine exploded.”  Jensen is already unbuckling himself from his chair and casting everyone a look. “You all good? Mish? Cliff?” He doesn’t wait for answers. He shoots off to the cockpit and stops just by the door looking uncertain. 

“Hey, uh… do we have a situation?” Nobody spoke while he was gone so it's easy to hear the response of the pilots ahead.

“We most certainly do. Get in your seat. Put on your seat belt. We’re doing emergency procedures.”

Calm. Collected. Professional. That’s all Misha had to hear. It doesn’t seem like he’s alone. Everyone else breathes in relief as they all watch Jensen amble back to his seat, nodding. 

“Okay, you certainly have my attention, sir.” 

He buckles up and lifts his chin. The look on their faces must’ve triggered Jensen to clap his hands together. “Hey, buckle up! Cliff, sit down. Rich, breathe, kay? It’s gonna be fine. It’s only one engine, guys, c’mon. This thing flies on three! You think Jared had anyone else to listen to about private jet education? We’re gonna be fine.”

Then like heaven-sent, the pilot begins giving them reports of the situation from the paging in a very clear and commanding voice.  He tells them the right engine exploded which requires them to make a trip back to the nearest airport in Vancouver. That’s all he gives and a promise of an update as he wished everybody to stay calm and follow the protocol for emergency procedures.

“Hear that?” Jensen clears his throat, his hands clasping. Misha receives the full impact of the meaningful green eyes. The plane steadies itself with hum in the air. A full minute pass and the airplane did not drop.

“Fuck.”

Misha forces himself to relax as he drops his head back on his chair.  He can’t feel his body. His hands are still trembling when he smacks it on his cold face. “Fuck!” He can’t seem to say anything other than that.

“Fuck, indeed.” Richard agrees, grabbing his phone, “Good thing I got my pods on, that sound coulda destroyed my ears.” he begins typing on his phone immediately. Alex begins a speed typing contest while Misha receives Vicky's reply after his first message.

‘Kids are mine, right?’

‘Because I cannot make them alone. What’s wrong?’- V

Misha goes on about the engine and the exchange of mail becomes rampant. When about twenty minutes pass with a few throws of questions around, Misha looks up when he hears the blubbing sound of whiskey. Jensen is pouring 

“I’m gonna be drinking that scotch when I get back home,” he’s saying as he hands the glasses each to Richard, Alex and finally to Misha who shakes his head, putting the glass on the holder. Jensen takes the armchair beside him to which Misha is glad, especially when Jensen wounds his arm around his shoulder.

“We’re fine, Mish, stop shaking.” Jensen drops the side of his cheeks on Misha’s raven hair.

“I’m not,” Misha says shakily, wrapping his arms around Jensen’s torso and just pulling him into a tight hug. “Fuck!”

Continue reading: AO3

[youremysputnik]

what I loved about DEH / Stagedooring DEH

awkward laugh - i don’t remember exactly when this was but i think it was right before only us? (I looked it up it’s during if i could tell her!!) zoe and evan are talking about something and taylor just turned away from mal toward the back of stage and went “hahaha” really awkwardly and i don’t know it was really funny

panic attack - during you will be found, evan drops his notecards and i know the different evans do this differently. taylor started repeating “sorry um... uh umm sorry uh” and then started breathing really hard and i was like “oh no i know what this is nonono” and he basically laid on the stage for a bit having a panic attack until he saw the tie. this moment really resonated with me because it was so real and i know much panic attacks suck

awkward hand touch - during the scene “you’re breaking up with me” when zoe tells evan she’s not breaking up with him, taylor was standing like two feet from mal and awkwardly stepped forward, touched her hands at her sides and went “thank you”, she then returned the gesture and went “don’t mention it” and they both laughed pretty hard it was so funny (i have seen the obc boot in a long time so i’m not sure if this happens all the time)

circle in ywbf - ok this was the moment when i really realized i was seeing this show. this is the moment in you will be found when they all turn around to face evan (toward the end of the song) and he’s in the middle and i don’t know it was so wholesome and loud and i loved it

good for you - during their solos and when heidi, jared, and alana are all singing together taylor would just stand there with his hands over his face looking at the person then they would start walking toward him and he would run

so big/so small looking at each other - i bawled during so big so small but it was specifically the part where heidi just held evan and they looked st each other and cried aHH

connor in sincerely me - it’s interesting to see how evan’s portrayal of connor changes how he is played. during sincerely me alex would run around the stage with huge energy and it’s interesting that that’s not really connor at all

sniffles - damn i thought everyone was exaggerating when they said you can hear everyone sobbing and sniffling. i think the small intimate space of the music box definitely helps that!

did you let go - ok i’m trying to avoid huge spoilers so hopefully you know this already but when this scene happened my friend basically was that new pikachu meme and went 🤭

taylors little evan ticks - I LOVE TAYLOR TRENSCH i noticed he wiped his hands on his pants a lot and rubbed his face and eyebrows! my friend (who’s not at all into theatre) even told me “it’s so cool how he does all the little ticks!”

taylor looking around - so we were sitting middle upper balcony but the music box is so small it still felt like we were right there, plus by sitting there we could see all the social media screens anyway whenever taylor would stand at the front of the stage for like a monologue or a song he would look around and even though we were so high up it felt like he could still see us and stare into our souls

waving through a window vs you will be found - i just,,,, love this show and how similar these two songs are in their structure and how different their situations are!!!

end of only us - i think i only put this because it’s funny knowing taylor and ben’s relationship and then watching the end of only us when evan and zoe kiss anyway next

words fail voice cracks - words fail has always been my favorite song and at the beginning of the song when evan is telling the murphy’s he was lying they look so heartbroken and taylor could barely get the first few lines out because he was crying and his voice was cracking and i sobbed he’s such a good actor

sobbing into mic during so big so small? - i put a ? because i couldn’t remember if it was so big so small but it definitely was at the end of that song i think either taylor’s mic was on and shouldn’t have been or he just usually doesn’t sob there but he let out a few audible sobs and again it really shows how great of an actor he is

michael crying during to break in a glove - i don’t remember ever hearing about this happening before but during to break in a glove michael could barely get some lyrics out because he was crying so hard ansjsnen i love this cast

awkward but touching hug after so big so small - the only reason i wrote awkward is because taylor’s arm was like weirdly squished between them and it around lisa but i couldn’t really come up with another word anyway they held that for a while and if was so cute

evan gets pushed—beginning of waving - ok this was really the moment i realized i was seeing dear evan hansen when alex pushed taylor and he slid and the lights changed and immediately started waving through a window i almost lost it there AND NOTHING SAD HAPPENED YET

sky’s jared NEEDS MORE APPRECIATION - ngl i was very sleep deprived when i wrote most of these notes but i agree sleep deprived christine! he was so funny!!!! please love him!! his laugh was awesome too!! rivaled will’s

MALLORY BECHTEL - her voice was so pretty and nice i love her so much!!!!! “she so cute!!” -my friend

monster that i knew - mallory paused for so long here and it was a really interesting i love her

zoom away bed zoom in table - this is like the first thing that happens, evan’s bed moves off and the murphy’s table comes on idk maybe i was a little sleep deprived but it was kinda funny to me. also ngl i forgot that jlt was still in the cast and that was a very pleasant surprise!!

evan? EVAN - taylor trensch is amazing. he yelled a lot and that’s something i didn’t really see from the clips of the other evan and i really liked it!

not all jazz - i think this was about the yelling again but also it’s such an iconic scene i’m so happy i got to see it

you want to say it again don’t you? very much so yes - sorry, i’m sorry. you say sorry a lot don’t you? yeah sorry.. i mean... you know what i mean. PRICELESS. taylor plays awkward so well sksjejdkenen

larry realizing and crying during ywbf - michael looking around at all the screens and starting to cry when he realizes he can’t deny connor’s death forever was such a good moment!!

jlt and michael hugging - this piggybacks on the last one since it’s basically the same moment but when jennifer hugged michael she was so far up on her tiptoes

social media voices - i don’t know why it caught me so off guard that the social media voices during ywbf were the same as the ones on the recording but it did? like idk i guess i’m just used to the cast recordings being better (?autotune) than actual shows but those voices literally being the exact same threw me off?

also last thing phoenix made a speech for bcefa, they were selling a bunch of things with the proceeds going to bcefa! they were selling the cast taylor wore that night for $500! so i took this picture during that speech because i’ve seen people film then so i’m assuming it’s allowed??? 😉

-

i’m going to put stagedooring on this post too since only two people stagedoored

* we stood for a long time but there wasn’t a lot of people at the stagedoor because i know my school had 250 people there and there were other groups that had to go.

* we were originally supposed to be back at 10:30 but they extended it to 11 so we were able to stay out later!

* i’m surprised some of my friends were willing to stand around but i think they knew this is what i really wanted to do!

* michael park came out first and i was at the very beginning so i was the first person he talked to! all i really did was thank him for such a great show! when he was signing someone else’s playbill i quickly yelled i loved tuck everlasting! not sure if he heard it or not, it kind of sounded like he said “i loved it too” but don’t quote me.

* then lisa brescia came out and we told her how much we loved the show and how thankful i am for them coming out and stagedooring even after such an emotional show and she was like “we do it for you guys!! you’re the reason we do this!!” i love her!!

* i heard later that she actually graduated from a school in my state and someone’s mom actually knew her!!

* i didn’t take selfies with anyone because i heard stage management was really strict but other people were

* honestly i was working myself up to talk to taylor and thank him for everything but then he didn’t come out. i’m going to be writing him another letter soon!

* we waited for a bit longer then the stage manager said there would be nobody else so we walked back :)

* then last night i got both of these notifications: :)))))) taylor liked my tweet and david korins (scenic director) commented on my instagram!!

[missblanchette]

Rumor Has It [2/10]

Series: Hypnosis Mic

Characters: Izanami Hifumi/Yumeno Gentaro

Rating: T

Summary: Thousands of hearts broke that day. With tears shed and cries resounding to the heavens, each grief-stricken woman wondered how this could possibly happen. In the year 20XX of the H. Era, Matenrou’s MC GIGOLO and Fling Posse’s MC Phantom were officially in a relationship.

Except they weren’t, actually.

Words: 3,449

ko-fi // Ch. 1 | You can read this on AO3! Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy! ( ･ω･)ﾉ

Ch 2: The Cobra Effect

"Wake up, Doppo! You have to check this out!"

"'m sorry... I'll have the reports done in five minutes..."

"Doppo!"

There was nothing new about Hifumi barging into Doppo's room to wake him up nor was shaking him awake anything out of the ordinary; nothing weird about Doppo's sleep-talking nor Hifumi's pleas. Indeed, this scene played out almost every morning in their apartment like clockwork. What was different, however, was the overactive child-like intensity in which Hifumi shook Doppo, the desperation in his voice as if the sales at the supermarket were ending in the next second, and most notably, the phone in his hand.

"C'mon, Doppo! Wake up!"

"I'll do overtime..."

"You're gonna get fired!" he yelled, slapping Doppo's cheek.

Doppo shot up. "I'm awake, I'm awake!"

"Look, look." Hifumi shoved his phone into Doppo's face, not giving him the chance to recover from his morning heart attack. "I'm in the headlines!"

Eyes dead and soul deader, Doppo stared at him. Hifumi grabbed Doppo’s hand and placed his phone in it, wrapping Doppo's fingers around it and nudging it closer to him. A long and deep sigh left Doppo's lips, his body visibly deflating as he exhaled. He looked at the screen.

"...'Matenrou's MC GIGOLO's and Fling Posse's MC Phantom's hook up,'" he read aloud rather flatly. His brows furrowed, eyes squinting at the screen. He brought the phone closer to his face. "...’Hook up’... wait. What. What the hell?!"

"See, it's me!"

Hifumi pointed at the accompanying image: the shot of him and Yumeno Gentaro sitting close together at TOP DANDY. Usually, pictures of him on the job were either for those flashy promos or cute selfies with his clients, but a candid like this was pretty refreshing. Not bad quality either, which was a plus.

Doppo made a face, the constipated one whenever his boss called him outside of office hours.

"This isn't the kind of headline you want to be in."

"Okay, yeah, but. It's kinda cool, isn't it?"

"No, no it's not!" Doppo threw his phone back at him, which Hifumi barely caught before it hit his face. "How'd this happen?!"

Leaning back, Hifumi tapped his chin as he recalled the night before -- a night that, to be honest, was like any other except for the encounter with Gentaro. TOP DANDY might’ve been geared towards women, but there was also the occasional male client and ever the perfect host, Hifumi would entertain every unsure heart and all those who chose him.

"Well, like, Yumeno-sensei came in and he wanted some research or something, right? So I gave him some stuff to think about!"

Groaning, Doppo buried his face in his hands.

"Goddammit, Hifumi, that suit of yours is a mistake! Don't you see what you've done?! We're going to have to apologize to Fling Posse and can you imagine the shame? Chuuoku's going to strip us of our title for bending down to the guys we defeated and Jinguji-san -- oh my God, Jinguji-san. What's he going to think? He's going to hate me because I can't control my best friend! Matenrou's going to be the shame of the century and it'll all be my fault --"

"Psh, Doppo-chin, it's not that big a deal!" Hifumi waved him off and laughed as Doppo dragged his hands down his face. "Anyways, aren't you gonna be late for work?"

Head snapping towards the clock, Doppo scrambled out of bed while muttering a string of curses. "Don't think you're off the hook!"

"Awww." Bouncing onto his feet, Hifumi clapped his hands. "How's about I make all your faves for dinner to make it up to you?"

"You really don't have to, but please --" Doppo paused and steepled his fingers, the points tipped together as if in prayer before jabbing them in his direction. "-- just. Do some damage control, okay?"

Complete with a grin, Hifumi gave him the okay sign. "No worries, Doppo-chin, I got this!"

Doppo only sighed.

With Doppo gone for work and the laundry loaded into the washer, Hifumi nearly knocked out for the rest of the morning when he remembered he promised Doppo to do that damage control or whatever. He swayed his head from side-to-side, mulling over what he'd written before erasing it. Too serious! Talk about making a mountain out of a molehill.

He shook his head. Too formal! Over-apologizing was Doppo's thing.

Giving it a once over, he nodded. Lighthearted and easy-going. Just right!

He sent the tweet and closed his eyes, already forgetting the whole mishap and making a mental list of groceries he needed to get later.

Sleep was quick and dreamless, which Hifumi much preferred to the opposite, but rest felt too short this time around when he awoke to his ringtone blaring. Blinking away his tiredness, he picked up his phone and tilted his head at the unknown number calling him. He didn't think twice before answering.

"Hello?"

"This is Izanami Hifumi, correct?" The voice speaking sounded familiar, an airy lilt to the curtness.

"Yeppers, that's me. Who's this?"

"It's Yumeno Gentaro --"

"Oh, Yumeno-sensei!" A beat passed before Hifumi's lips puckered in confusion. "...How'd you get my number?"

"Never mind that. I need to speak with you about the rumor going on. Certainly you've heard of it?"

"Rumor?"

"The one concerning us."

"Rumor, rumor, rumor..." Hifumi mumbled over and over to himself, racking through his sleep deprived brain for any memory of it. Oh, right! He'd been dealing with it before he fell asleep. "The one with us at the club? I totes got that under control."

"By 'totes got it under control,' you don't happen to mean that tweet you made at 6:54 this morning?"

"Uh --" He checked his clock. Wow, four hours of sleep? That was more than usual. Nice. "-- yeah!"

"You can't possibly expect that to have appeased anyone," Gentaro said incredulously.

"Sure it can! Like, y'know, if people think it's a joke then they'll let it go."

"Then why am I receiving death threats from your adoring fans? Why, pray tell, did I find a message written in blood on my door?" His words, spoken so courteously like a light conversation over tea, bore a cutting sharpness.

Hifumi frowned, biting his lower lip as the situation sank in. Having worked as a host for nearly a decade, he'd experienced all kinds of women and that included the less mentally stable ones. Such as it was to be serving dreams in a paradise; those who needed them most would take refuge in them. From ordering his favorite champagne to demanding the most outlandish requests, these ladies expressed their love in all kinds of ways. To this day, phantom pains pierced his arm where that one stalker had stabbed him, but he didn't mind receiving all of their attention -- the good, the bad, and the worst -- so long as it was him himself. It was why he never mentioned Doppo nor talked about Matenrou while at work. Every single one of his kittens could dig their claws into him, but he'd be damned if he let anything happen to anyone else.

And that included his rival.

"Oh my God, I'm sooo totally super duper sorry!" Though he couldn't see him, Hifumi held a hand in front of his face and dipped his head. "They're just, like, really enthusiastic, y'know?! Sometimes they don't think these things through!"

"Yes, I've noticed." Gentaro's fair voice hid irritation underneath. "So much like the one they admire the most, now are they?"

Less hurt and more upset, Hifumi pouted. "Hey! Okay, it's not like I told them to do anything."

"Right. Which leads me as to why I called you. If I'm not mistaken, you have an Instagram account, yes?"

"Yeah...?"

"Then I propose we do a live stream together --"

"Ooh, a live stream?! That sounds fun~ We can make a show out of it --"

"Take this seriously, Izanami," said Gentaro, tone clipped.

"I am too taking this seriously."

A sigh came from the other end. "As I was saying, I have no doubt that anything I say now will fall onto deaf ears, but your fans will most likely listen to you. If we come together to explain the situation, that should hopefully clear up any misunderstandings."

Nodding his head along to Gentaro's words, Hifumi hummed. "Yeah, sounds good."

"Very well, meet me at the South Gate of Shinjuku Station at twelve o'clock. I know a place nearby where no one should bother us. Is that clear?"

Hifumi saluted, hair bobbing up and down. "Crystal!"

Without another word, Gentaro hung up. If they were meeting at twelve, Hifumi figured, then he'd have to get ready soon. A slight bump to his plans, but he could work around it. Groceries could get done on the way home though drying the laundry would have to wait until later.

He reached for his hoodie and jeans, but froze as he remembered why he was going out in the first place. A live stream, admittedly, wasn't as bad as actually being face-to-face with women. In fact, the screen dividing him and the women made dealing with them easier; he could ignore the tendrils of fear and anxiety that clawed at him by communicating via social media, if only for a while. That said, text was always the easiest, calls more harder, but a live stream? Maybe it wouldn't hurt to dress up a bit for this occasion.  

Putting on his chains and rings, his gaze wandered to his suit jacket. There shouldn't be any real, live women he had to be dealing with, but the image of Gentaro's feminine act popped into mind -- so much like his own clients but somehow worse. His stomach churned like a whirlpool at the memory. It should be illegal how gracefully Gentaro moved, how pretty he looked without makeup, how sickeningly sweet his voice sounded pitched up. No man should be allowed to be that beautiful. Not even all the primping and beauty care routines Hifumi followed made him look that flawless.

His breathing grew shallow and his fingers trembled ever so slightly. Yep, the suit jacket was definitely coming along.

Slipping into it, Hifumi ran his hands through his hair and winked at his reflection in the mirror. While donning his suit, no fear could touch him nor could any doubt reach him; invincible, he was, with hardly a sense of his cowardly self in sight. A wolf who ran wild and a man who stole the hearts of women everywhere -- undeniably, this Hifumi was in all ways superior.

After making sure everything in the apartment was secure, Hifumi strode off to Shinjuku Station. Shinjuku's number one host had some kittens to tame.

He arrived seven minutes after twelve to be greeted with an impassive look from Gentaro and a brusque "You're late." For as much as he tried to strike up a conversation, Gentaro shot down his every attempt with well-spoken ease as he lead him to a hole-in-the-wall tea house. Heads turned as the door opened, revealing the faces of everyone present -- particularly the women. Adjusting his suit jacket, Hifumi thanked his foresight, though Gentaro forcefully dragged him along for flirting with the cashier while he'd been ordering some tea.

"All right, Izanami, let's get this over with," Gentaro said once they’d found a secluded table near the back.

"My, no need to be so eager, Yumeno-sensei." Despite his words, he, too, looked forward to ending this quickly. "You should consider yourself lucky to be spending the day with me after a night at TOP DANDY. Many of my kittens would kill to be in your place."

"And that's exactly why we're here on this otherwise fine day, are we not?"

Hifumi laughed, ignoring the downwards twist of Gentaro's lips.

"Quite so." Phone in hand, his finger hovered over the start button. "Ready? I'll be starting in three --"

Schooling his face into a neutral expression, Gentaro straightened his back.

"-- two --"

Hifumi took a breath.

"-- one."

Then put on his award winning grin that caused many a woman to swoon.  

"Good afternoon, my lovely kittens~ I hope you're all doing well," Hifumi purred as the number of viewers rose at a rapid rate. Not even thirty seconds in, and already thousands upon thousands had joined the stream. Comments ranging from "good afternoon hifumi ❤️❤️❤️" to "I LOVE YOU HIFUMI!!!" cycled through and hearts filled the corner of the screen. "Now a certain rumor has come to my attention, and I thought to clear things up a little. Today, I have a special guest to help me with that."

He shifted to the external camera and pointed his phone at Gentaro, who put on a polite smile and bowed his head.

"Good afternoon, I'm Yumeno Gentaro," he said, voice light and airy.

Immediately, the comments took a downward spiral. "WHAT IS HE DOING THERE???", "IT'S THAT YUMENO BITCH," and "GET AWAY FROM HIFUMI" were among the more tamer comments flying up. Hifumi fought to keep his smile on as he shifted back to the internal camera. Angling his phone so that both of them were visible on the screen, Hifumi scooted over a healthy distance away from Gentaro.

"Yes, I'm sure you've heard of the rumors regarding me and Yumeno-sensei, but I assure you, loves, they’re absolutely not true." Chuckling as naturally as possible, Hifumi caught Gentaro’s eyes. "Would you mind taking it away, Yumeno-sensei?"

"Indeed, Izanami is correct." As he looked into the camera, Gentaro held a perfectly poised posture and an equally practiced smile. "The image circulating social media is being taken horribly out of context. I was merely at TOP DANDY last night for my own enjoyment and Izanami happened to be one of the hosts in my rotation. He is, if anything, a good host and a good host should entertain their clients, no?"

"HE'S A LYING BITCH" and "CUT OFF HIS TONGUE" were among the screams that shot up, the comments descending into a riot. Hifumi had half the mind to turn off the comments but he thought it better to end things soon. He focused the camera onto himself.

"It is my duty to give everyone my attention when they walk into TOP DANDY, but I apologize for any distress I’ve caused you darlings. The relationship between me and Yumeno-sensei is far more innocent than you think so worry not, I still belong to all of you." He gestured towards his viewers, giving his best smolder. The comments didn't get any kinder. His grin faltered. "Thank you for your understanding, my dear kittens. I hope to see you all in paradise tonight~"

Winking and blowing a kiss to the screen, he tapped the end button as fast as he could and set his phone down onto the table. His shoulders slumped, a breath escaping his lips as he thought back to all those comments. Princesses they were, but his kittens definitely had sharp fangs.

A hand propped up against his forehead, Gentaro took a sip of his tea. "Now all that's left to do is wait this fiasco out."

Hifumi leaned back against his seat, peering at him through his peripheral. Whether or not Gentaro had been bothered by all those threats, he didn't show. Really, the only sign of unease he’d shown throughout the whole ordeal was the annoyance the slipped through his words. A part of him hated how easily he wore his facade when it'd taken him years to get to this point; the other, a tinge of sympathy at the fact that the facade was needed. Nonetheless, rival or not, no one deserved such unsolicited backlash. Turning towards him, he placed a hand over his heart and took Gentaro's with his other.

"Once again, I offer my utmost and heartfelt apologies. I didn't realize how violent my kittens were and apologize on their behalf."

Pulling his hand away as if he'd been stung, Gentaro's green eyes ran over him -- scanning and scrutinizing his entire being.

"Have you ever considered becoming an actor, Izanami? Your theatrics are impeccable, I have to admit."

Hifumi's head tilted to the side. "Oh? Is my apology not enough for you, Yumeno-sensei?"

"Anything you say holds little meaning for getting me involved in this mishap."

Leaning forward, Hifumi lowered his voice into a purr. "Perhaps you should've asked for a private interview instead if you wanted to avoid any controversy, hm?"

"I don't believe it would've been satisfactory," Gentaro said, resting his chin upon his palm. He spoke casually, though the bared teeth beneath his words bit hard. "Especially from someone who's dropped in ranking."

"My, my, Yumeno-sensei~ You never know something until you try it."

Gentaro's mouth opened, but whatever retort he had coming was put on pause as a small vibration buzzed in his pocket. He took a breath as if to restart his sentence, but the vibrations grew stronger and stronger. Pursing his lips, Gentaro glared at him and pulled his phone out. From his angle, Hifumi could see “🍭fling posse 🍭 ₍՞◌′ᵕ‵ू◌₎♡” on the screen accompanied by fifty-plus messages. As he opened up his phone, Gentaro's eyes widened and his mouth hung ajar.

Izanami, he mouthed, head snapping back towards him. He glanced at Hifumi's phone. Are you certain you turned the stream off?

Brow creasing, Hifumi nodded. Just in case, he picked up his phone and -- oh . Oh dear. The live icon sure still was on. Hifumi let out a nervous laugh.

"I am ever so sorry for the slip up, my dear kittens!" Hifumi spoke quickly, struggling to maintain his cool. He could barely see himself anymore with all the outcry filling the screen. "As I said, I'll see you all tonight~"

He rushed to end the stream, but the amount of comments pouring in made his phone lag and the process took an eternity too long to finish. Double checking, triple checking, quadruple checking to make sure the stream was truly finished, he exited out of the app to be extra safe. Phone blowing up with notifications, he set it down again. The one thing breaking the awkward silence that fell over was the endless buzzing of both their phones.

"Why --" A tiny giggle came from Gentaro, the mirth not reaching his eyes at all. “-- this is fantastic.”

Hifumi raised an eyebrow at the smile Gentaro plastered on. "Really?"

"Yes." Gentaro's green irises hooded over, voice as pleasant as a spring day. "I've always sought to be in the limelight like this."

"...While I commend your positive thinking, I --"

"That was a lie, Izanami," Gentaro snapped. His lips curled down into a scowl. "Do you drink so much champagne a night that your brain no longer works?"

More agitated than hurt, Hifumi's expression fell as well. "My brain, hm? Maybe if you took your nose out of your novels for once, you'd grow thicker skin."

Jaw clenching, Gentaro looked away with his head held high.

"Fine, then. I’ve had enough of this," he said, standing up. He'd dropped his faux politeness along the way. "I haven't the faintest idea of what possessed me to seek help from you anyways. If anything happens to me, it's on your head."

Without as so much as a glance back, Gentaro left the tea house with his parting words hanging in the air. Hifumi had left Gentaro battered and bruised before, weak on his knees and within an inch of his life during the territory battles, and he’d reveled in the victory. Upon Chuuoku's order, under the gazes of thousands and thousands of women, their raps rattled each others' nerves and shook each others' egos with their mics; but outside the stadium, their lyrics meant little. This was a completely different stage altogether where a hypnosis canceler couldn't save them, where the law tipped against their favor, where anything was game -- fair or not. The words of a few crazed fans could do more than cause a short-circuit, their hands a weapon worse than a hypnosis mic. That, he knew first hand.

Yumeno Gentaro might've been a lot of things from a pretentious novelist to a serial liar stuck in the past, but for all his grievances, Hifumi would never wish that kind of harm upon him. Especially if he had something to do with it. Wars were ugly, battles were messy, and there was no respect between those who fought them. But, even so, Hifumi still had his standards.

The only thing Hifumi could really do, though, was hope nothing too bad happened to Gentaro.

[bulletproofvendetta2019]

Hey! i'm a casual fan of tøp so i'm not up to date with many related things and just saw your post about all the albums being connected/reference to Clancy/Demi/the bishops theory? What are those theories? Btw amazing blog 🌻

Hello! Thank you!

Someone probably knows more than be but here’s what I am aware of:

As far as I know,  most of it the theories come from certain lyrics seeming to fit the current situation with Clancy and Dema.  Such as Doubt mentioning bishops in the way it does:

“Gnawing on the bishopsClaw away at the systemRepeating simple phrasesSomeone holy insisted” 

However there are a couple visible things that have been found. Recently there was a gif on the dmaorg site that’s file name was _they_ca_ntseeFCE300

FCE300 is a hex code for a shade of yellow, meaning “they can’t see yellow”And in the music video for Heathens, Tyler’s wearing a orange jumpsuit, except  there is one instance (which you can see on this tweet here  ) where Tyler is sitting in the dark  when the guards can’t see him that the jumpsuit is clearly Yellow for a moment before it noticeably turns to orange and then the guards find him. Also later  in the video he shrugs off the orange jumpsuit and reveals he’s wearing a yellow suit under.

It’s also worth mentioning that we know they’ve registered a song named Jumpsuit.The center on the Map Of Dema very clearly mirrors the Blurryface album cover. If you zoom in you can see the names of the 9 bishops above each of the circles. The names of the bishops themselves are actually part of lyrics from the album:

ANDRE= AND REpeat yesterdayLISDEN= feeL IS DENialKEONS= choKE ON SmokeNIGO= wheN I GOt olderREISDRO= temperatuRE IS DROppingSACARVER= sheS A CARVERNILLS= dowN ILL SlipVETEMO= aliVE TOMOrrowLISTO= LIST Of people And after you know the what’s up with Clancy and Dema (or what we CAN know at this point in time it’s pretty easy to start making connections to certain lyrics or themes. 

Personally I think message man really seems to fit this “I’m wanted and on the run”  and with the theme of being awake or sleeping that are all throughout Dema “hope you’re dead ‘cause how could you sleep at a time like this” And Here someone made a pretty good connection to Polarize  and what was happening right before clancy escaped.  Speaking of the torches, there’s a possible connection to A Car A Torch A Death. Now the Torch  and Death  are pretty obvious (and people actually connected the vulture to death before we got the pic of the ( presumably) dead body.) Car’s a bit harder to place bc a car isn’t mentioned BUT in the gif that was sent in the newsletter, one of the images reflected in the eye looks an awful like like the Driver from HeavyDirtySoul (one of clancy’s letters was also called Heavy) And speaking of the photo of the ( presumably) dead body. The position looks a LOT like how tyler falls on stage. See Here.

Another thing that might be worth mentioning is  Dema itself mean’s Tower of Silence and a Tower of silence  is a “circular, raised structure used for dead bodies to be exposed to carrion birds, usually vultures. In the lyric video for Cancer you can make out a book that is titled Festa Di Rovine which translates to Feast Of Ruins. And here someone’s pointed out the hazmat suits from lane boy look really similar to the people that place the bodies on the tower. “Will the be alive tomorrow?”

Most other things (again as far as I know, foll all i know there are much more solid connections) are just lyrics that seem to go really well with Clancy.The entirety of Isle of Flightless Birds.

From Holding Onto You: “I’m taking over my body,Back in control, no more shotty,I bet a lot of me was lost,T’s uncrossed and I’s undotted” Clancy not wanting to be controlled anymore.

Also Car Radio seems to fit: “There are things we can doBut from the things that work there are only twoAnd from the two that we choose to doPeace will winAnd fear will loseThere’s faith and there’s sleepWe need to pick one please becauseFaith is to be awakeAnd to be awake is for us to thinkAnd for us to think is to be aliveAnd I will try with every rhymeTo come across like I am dyingTo let you know you need to try to think”

The map of dima that I linked above is captioned:“gEt out. the compAss lies. they don’t control you. get out. the compaSs lies. They don’t control you. get out. the compass lIeS. they don’t control yoU.get out. the comPass lies. they don’t control you.”  and at one point DID have a compass on the pic (see Here), Now you can see in the caption there is a hidden message; East Is Up. Which could be taken to mean that the direction the map is saying is North is actually East.  Which the confustion with direction makes me think of The Judge: “So I head out, down a route I think is heading south, But I’m not good with directions and I hide behind my mouth” There are a bunch more that people pointed out but I’m blanking on a lot rn (prob the sleep deprivation) So If any else knows more, please add to this, because I find all this fascinating. Even if the other albums aren’t connected, there’s pretty solid evidence with the Bishops that at least Blurryface is somewhat connected.

[alixzin]

Unfinished Medical Procedures Fic

In which Lin takes Alex to see a neurologist and has a series of brain tests done (EEG and MRI) to make sure nothing more serious is wrong. I wrote this last January while I was snowed in and highly productive. This was before I knew what in the verse to write and was doing a little of everything. I stopped working on it when “Where You Started” took over and demanded all my attention. At this point it’s been so long that I don’t know if I’ll ever go back to it, but it has some really nice moments that deserve to see the light of day, so here it is. 

They are at first neurologist appointment, discussing tests he wants to run before prescribing medication to prevent migraines.

 “It’s not at all scary, not like the MRI,” the doctor reassures them after expressing the need for an EEG. “All that happens is we attach electrodes, which look a bit like watch batteries, to different parts of your head with washable glue. Each one is attached to a wire that records the brain signals. You’ll just lie on a bed for an hour and your parents can stay with you.”

It’s starting to become a thing that every doctor they see refers to them as Alex’s “parents”, “Dad” or “Mom”. They’ve given up on correcting it.

“Now one part of an EEG that is challenging is that we intentionally put the brain under a lot of stress to increase the likelihood of catching unusual activity.”

Lin’s eyes widen at this and he gives Alex’s knee a squeeze. As if he doesn’t have enough stress on his brain already.

“What exactly does that mean? Can it be done without that?”

“It would just be a waste of time and money to be honest. The biggest aspect of this is sleep deprivation. For teens this means staying up for at least 24 hours beforehand.”

Alex full on rolls his eyes at this. Even Lin has to crack a smile. Alex would consider being allowed to stay up all night a special treat.

“I saw that look. It’s noted on his health history he has insomnia. Is staying up like that typical for Alexander?”

“Very. If we aren’t policing him Alex will go a full week with only a couple of hours of sleep.”

“That does not sound at all healthy and increases my worries about unusual brain activity. I’d be interested to see what’s going on in his head when that’s happening.” Wouldn’t we all. “If we’re going to do this, it’s best to do it right. Do you think Alexander could tolerate going 48 hours?”

“Alexander’s right here, you know!”

Lin grins. He loves Alex’s sassy side.

“What do you think Alex?”

“Please. That’s cake. I can go longer if you want.”

“No!” Lin and Vanessa say at the same time.

 Alex is confident in his ability (and likely ecstatic to be allowed to stay up that long), but Lin can’t help but be nervous that this might not end well.

 There’s a catch. Of course, there’s a catch. When Lin finally reads through the info packet on the test the night before Alex starts the sleep purge one detail jumps out at him: absolutely no caffeine.

Alex’s entire existence is powered by mass quantities of caffeine, which is one of the many things they have in common. Him and Vanessa have figured out that even when Alex is home sick or recovering from a bad migraine he still needs coffee, or else caffeine withdrawal symptoms get added to his illness. With all his anxiety cutting back on Alex’s consumption has been on the “things with Alexander that need to be addressed” list for a while now, but they haven’t gotten to it yet. Partially because that would mean Lin going through coffee detox with him to avoid looking like a huge hypocrite and partially because then they would lose their most powerful Alex negotiation tool. Need to convince him to do something he doesn’t want to? Bribe with extra coffee. Need to get Alex to stop an unhealthy behavior like refusing to go to bed? Threaten to take away his coffee. In their defense they are very new to this whole parenting thing.

 He does try to convince Alex to back out of this and just do the twenty-four hours, but once Alex gets something in his head as a personal challenge there is no backing out.

 The pamphlet recommended having an adult stay up with him to make sure he doesn’t sleep, but they all know that with Alex on the first night it’s not at all necessary. They’ll save that for the second night, if for nothing else then to keep him company and show solidarity.

The next morning over breakfast all Lin has to do is take one look at Alex to know this is proving more difficult than they had anticipated, taking in how pale he is and the already increased size of the bags under his eyes.

“Alex, you’re not going to school today.”

“What? No, I’m fine.”

“Even so, I’d really prefer if you didn’t, mijo.” He wants Alex near him just in case something goes wrong.

Lin’s concerned that if he leaves Alex home alone he might accidently fall asleep, which would normally please him, but that would just mean having to start this whole thing all over again. However, since Alex isn’t actually sick, Lin can’t quite justify taking the day off with him (given how many times he’s done that already), so he quickly comes to the decision to have Alex tag along with him all day. Besides it would probably be better if Alex was up and about doing things all day.

 [Insert fluff of spending day together and finally meeting the cast for real. I’ll get to it!]

-         Spoiler from nearly a year later, nope never did, oops.

 Later on in the day at the Public Theater backstage, Lin finally convinces Alex to formally meet a few people.  Knocks on Daveed and Oaks door. 

“Hey Daveed, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. This is my…this is Alex.”

A man with one of the largest afro’s Alex has ever seen pops his head out. He looks familiar though.

“Alex. Good to finally meet you officially.”

“Hi.” Alex resists the urge to hide behind Lin. Not cool Alex. Not cool at all! You’re fifteen, not five.

“I’m glad to see you looking better. You really worried me a couple weeks ago.”

That’s it. He recognizes the voice now. This was the guy who called him “baby Lin” and had so frantically called Lin claiming he needed an ambulance. Alex could just about melt into the floorboards in embarrassment. What the heck is he supposed to say after meeting someone like that?

“Wait until you hear Daveed rap tonight Alex. The man’s a beast!” Lin gushes, completely oblivious to Alex’s humiliation. Or is it because of?

“Are you seeing the show tonight?”

Alex nods. Why is talking so hard?

“You’re in for a real treat! You’ve got a certified genius for a foster dad. Seriously, if anyone else had pitched this idea to me, I would have laughed at them, but because it’s Lin... Okay, I still laughed at him. Listen, I want to apologize for our last encounter Alex. We’ve been hearing Lin talk about you for so long, we were a little too eager, but shouldn’t have burst in like that. I’m sorry for the additional pain we caused you.”

Alex gapes at him. Nope—no idea how to respond to that either. He must look like such an idiot.

“Are you kidding?” cuts in Lin. “Daveed, you get that if you, Oak and Ramos hadn’t disregarded my orders to leave my kid alone, it probably would have been another hour before I checked on him? I don’t even want to think about what state he might have been in then. I am so incredibly grateful for your interference.”

Did Lin just call him his kid? What the hell is he supposed to think of that? This is his tweets referring to him as his ‘son’ all over again. Everyone had assumed he had meant Sebastian with that one, but sheesh. It flashes him back to the conversation he overhead Lin and Vanessa have about it while he was still recovering in bed.

“Oh come on, give me a break here! There are only 150 characters allowed. I don’t have room to put foster in front of it. Besides, the public doesn’t need to know about him.”

“You didn’t have to tweet about it at all.”

“People thought I was dying. I didn’t even give a goodnight tweet. I had to give some explanation.”

“And those fault is that? Lin, you have a twitter problem.”

  Lin is very aware that Alex has never seen him preform outside of ‘In The Heights’ youtube clips he caught him watching, so he decides to still go on as Hamilton as planned. Instead they get a sitter for Sebastian so Vanessa can sit in the audience with Alex.

 Alex is dazzled by the first act. Lin sees him from the stage go from drooping in his chair looking close to falling asleep to wide awake and hanging on every word by the second song. It makes for one of his best performances. Having Alex there and earning his approval matters so much more to him than any celebrity in the audience. What’s truly adorable is that when Vanessa brings him backstage during intermission Alex is acting shy and tongue tied around him, as if he’s suddenly star struck by his own foster dad. Lin’s not worried though, he knows it will pass the next time he annoys him.

“Did you really write that?” he asks shyly right before they leave to take their seats in the audience.

“I did.”

“How?!”

“It did take me seven years. If you like we can add a discussion of the writing process to our nights planned activities.”

“I’d like that.”

 It takes him a while to notice since his back is turned to the audience for the second half of “The World Was Wide Enough”, but as soon as Lin comes forward his eyes zero in right on Alex. He’s bawling his eyes out and Vanessa is starting to look worried. Lin’s distracted enough by this that he misses his cue and grabs Pippa’s hand at the wrong time. At least he doesn’t have to sing anymore. Lin doesn’t know how he could do it when his Alexander is in the front row crying like that. During the bows he makes eye contact with Vanessa who shoots him a panicked look. She holds up her phone to indicate that she sent him a text, which he nods at in confirmation. Once they’ve gone through the motions, he all but sprints off stage to get to his phone.

“Bit of a situation here. Alex *freaked out* when you got shot. Flashback maybe?”

“Stay put for now. Don’t try to navigate the crowds. I’ll meet you there once it clears out a bit. See if I can get security to move things along.”

“Did you hear him scream when Burr shot you?”

That was Alex? Shit! On most nights at least one person shouts out when that happens so it was barely registered. In retrospect, it did sound a little more anguished than normal.

 “You didn’t say you were going to die!” Alex wails, clinging tightly to Lin in a death grip.

“I’m sorry. It’s common knowledge that he dies in a duel. I thought you knew. Leslie even says he shoots me in the first song.”

“Shoots! Not kills!”

 Would give him a sedative if it wouldn’t make staying up any longer impossible.

 “Alex honey, you’re exhausted. Your emotions are all out of sorts right now. It was stupid of me to think seeing the show tonight would be a good idea.”

“No, I’m glad I saw it. It’s a masterpiece. You just need to change the ending.”

“Mijo, this isn’t just something I made up. You can’t rewrite the endings on a real person’s life and make it happy.”

“Then you need to play a different part where you don’t get shot.”

“It’s not real.”

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t want you getting shot at every night.”

 Too exhausted to hold back emotions that night Alex ends up telling him about the cousin who took him in and moved them to New York after the hurricane and shot himself in the head soon after. That’s how Alex ended up in the American foster care system and why he’s not at all a fan of guns.

 Alex is not satisfied until he gets to examine the prop gun and confirm that it can’t hold bullets that someone who dislikes Lin might sneak in. Even so, they have to get the props department to remove the trigger to reassure Alex he’s not really being shot at and make it so that if someone replaced a prop gun with a real one it would be obvious. Even after all that, it’s clear Alex doesn’t trust Leslie.

   It’s past midnight and Alex and Lin are holed up in a café getting desert.

“Alexander, I know you don’t like talking about these things, but do you think you could fill me in a little on what happened tonight? That was a pretty big reaction.”

“I don’t like guns,” Alex mutters, taking a sip of his herbal tea. Even though it doesn’t provide the caffeine fix he takes comfort from the ritual of drinking a hot beverage. It gives him courage.

“Can you tell me more?”

“My cousin Peter shot himself in the head while I was in the next room. There was a loud bang, I ran in and he was on the ground. There was so much blood.”

This is a huge breakthrough. Alex has never shared anything about his past with them. All they know is the bare facts: his father’s not in the picture, his mother died quite suddenly of “natural causes”, cousin who was given guardianship of him committed suicide and he’d suffered unimaginable abuse at the hands of his most recent foster family. The exact details of these occurrences are foggy and until now Alexander hasn’t been willing to share.

“Do you think tonight was a flashback to that?” Lin tries to keep his tone mild and calm.

“Yeah…probably…” he looks so defeated. “When I hear a gunshot it’s like I’m back in that room again. Usually, like when Lee and Phillip were shot, I can talk myself out of it, remind myself it’s not real and I’m being stupid. But…when there was a gunshot and then you were keeled over... It looked like there was blood everywhere. I don’t think there was though. There was nothing to clean up after.”

“No Alex, there was no blood on stage.”

“All in my head,” he breathes heavily. The absolute exhaustion just oozes out of him. It’s clear all his defenses are down and Alex doesn’t have the energy to resist questioning. Lin will have to tread lightly.

“Do you think you could tell me more about Peter, mijo? Did he treat you okay?” Lin asks gently.

“I liked Peter. He was kind to me.” Alex stares down at his plate, not making any eye contact, but he talks. “After my mother died the probate court ordered all her possessions be auctioned off and the funds given to my half-brother, her legitimate son. Peter went to the auction and bought back all her books to give to me. He didn’t have to do that, I never asked him to and he never had much money, but he did anyway.”

“He sounds like a good guy,” Lin comments, encouraging him to go on.

“Peter was never stable though. His emotions were all over the place. He’d get really down sometimes and be too depressed to get out of bed for weeks. I ended up having to lie about my age and get a job so we could afford food and rent because he never went to work and couldn’t keep a job. When he got like that I’d have to bring him food or he wouldn’t eat at all. I used to worry all the time that he was going to die in bed like Mom. Sometimes he wouldn’t eat what I gave him, so I would force him and he’d yell at me to leave him alone to die.”

“How old were you when this happened, Alexander?”

“Twelve. I was twelve when I moved in with Peter.”

Over a year then. Over a year with that horribly depressing home life.

“It wasn’t always like that though. Sometimes Peter was full of energy. He was a lot of fun. He never slept much when he was like that and would take me out on wild late night adventures, sort of like we are now.” Alex smiles fondly. It’s clear that despite everything, he cared a great deal for the man. “Peter would get all these wild moneymaking schemes that he’d obsess over, but usually he’d get sad again before anything came of it. Except with moving to New York, that was the one plan he actually did and his mood didn’t change until a week after we moved.” Alex’s breath hitches in his throat. Lin can already see where this is going. “I don’t know where he got the gun…I should have kept a closer eye on him. I should have known the crash was coming.” Alex blinks rapidly, trying to keep the tears from falling.

“Mijo, it wasn’t your fault. Not even a little. It sounds like Peter had severe bipolar disorder that was untreated. Do you know what that is?”

“I’ve heard of it,” Alex sniffs.

“You never should have been put in a situation to have to care for him like you did.  He shouldn’t have been made responsible for a child in that state. It wasn’t fair to you.”

“I loved him.” At this the tears start running freely that Alex tries to rub away, though it makes no difference. Lin can’t hold back anymore and gets up from his seat across from him to pull Alex into a hug.

“I know honey, and that makes it so much worse.”

“I must not have mattered that much to him if he could kill himself and not care what happened to me.”

“He had a mental illness Alex. His brain was sick and not functioning properly. I don’t think he was capable of thinking of anything but his own misery at that moment. But it sounds like he did care about you a good deal.”

“He bought me back the books.”

“That’s right mijo, he bought you back your mother’s books. That sounds like a man who cared. Who loved you as much as he was able.”

Lin wishes so badly that this was the end of his trauma. That Alex was brought to live with them right after his cousin’s suicide, because surely all of that had been enough horror to last a lifetime. It’s not the end though. It’s not even close. After all of that Alexander’s story gets so much worse.

[thepathofthesalaf]

A Letter from a Women in the Cellars | I’m hesitant, do i tell you my story? or do i let be forgotten the same as all those stories of the imprisoned monotheist women, those unknown deep down in the cellars? I’ll write in short what happened to me, so that it would be argument against every defeatist,
and i know that my letter will pass some of you unnoticed, it may touch you a bit, and perhaps some will avenge me through a tweet behind their devices…then what? then i shall be forsaken. It’s nothing strange to expect from you, because i know you people all too well, i have lived among you quite the time,
you used to fail your sisters whilst we begged you to help them, even if it’s through a Tweet.
so those who couldn’t even support them through a tweet,
no once expects them to help them with anything more than that. Before me, the story of Hilah Al Qassyer passed you by, along the story of the 25 imprisoned sisters… but even so, it did not affect you in the least.
all you did is (pretend to) cry a little on twitter and then you got busy with your perishing life, and forgot that you had sisters gulping down the different kinds of oppression, subjugation and abandonment in prison…
but i also know that among you are men, which i am proud of, 
whose eyes would not close, and mind would not rest, till every imprisoned sister in the Land of al Haramayen is free and avenged.
because those are my brothers, and i take honor in them, greetings to you O’ heroes. My Story… Ahhh! i can still feel those screams deep inside me when i remember that day… sighs and wounds still reside in my heart
Ah! to the day that i will not forget as long as i live
Ah! to the tears of my mother and sisters, Ah and a thousand Ah! to the drained face of my father… concern and shock filling him. My Last Night I was down with a fever, my mind soaring to where those free women were, in those dark cellars 
Hilah, Mai, Aminah and the list goes on… I tried to sleep but couldn’t, 
I could feel my soul moving around the prison cells, one time i was at Hilah’s cell, another time i was at Mai’s and Aminah’s cell and…
I wondered: how do they remain patient?
oh i wonder how are they doing right now, how are they feeling?
how much do they miss their children?
what do they feel when they’re led to the interrogation rooms? what and what and what …. I felt pain spreading through my soul when i wondered about how they’re doing, but i could not really feel the actual pain they lived through on daily basis The feeling of being forsaken, oppressed, wronged and deprived… I took out my phone, logged on to my twitter account, tweeted a little bit about the imprisoned sisters.. tuned off the phone while my tears flowed down
Oh Lord free them..Oh Lord.. Oh Lord
i have no way of helping them except through tweeting.. My last night ended. A day i will not forget.. My mother woke me up at 7 in the morning, asking how i was feeling, while holding a cup of ginger milk, she placed it beside me after checking on me and left, I was really sick so i drank a little and then went back to sleep,
it was only a short while till i heard my bedroom door open, with disturbing voices approaching me
I opened my eyes and the first thing i saw was three “(female) Shabihat” who were pulling my sheet off me
“You…?? where is you phone?? where is it???”
I looked at them weirded out while repeating “who are you? who?”
one of them removed the whole sheet off me and went on searching my bed for my phone!!
all this happened while i was still in denial!
it was as if i was in a nightmare and what was happening in front of me wasn’t real! It took only moments for my small room to be filled with a number of masked soldiers, one of them was holding a large filming camera focused on me!! I was in my nightwear with no Hijab covering me from their eyes and the camera!
I tired to cover my face with my hair to hide from their evil stares and from the camera!
one of the Shabiha yelled beside me “we’ve found the phone!!” as if she just found an explosive belt or a Kalashnikov!
it was then that my father came to the room and the (male) Shabiha left my room, my poor mother and sister followed behind him - can you believe that my sister didn’t have her Hijab on and was wearing her nightwear!!! - she woke up to the loud voices in the house and went out of her room to the living room only to find the camera and the (male) Shabiha in her face, she stood there shocked, still not absorbing the situation! my mother had to drag her from the Shabiha and take her to the room i was in… After the (male) Shabiha left my room, the (female) Shabihat stayed with me, i wore my Abaya and then they asked me to leave the room to another one so that they could search my room! They confiscated every device i had.. even my personal diaries and childhood memories! they took it all! and placed them on a yellow cloth and began filming, as if my possessions and diaries were a war booty for them!! After hours of sabotaging my room and our house, they said “she must come with us!”
it was then that i was sure that it was a departure with no return.. I remember looking at my father and screaming inside “do not let them take me, please O’ my father! please!”
his eyes answering “what can i do about it” Feeling helpless is so painful, and that was how my father and mother felt..
I bid farewell to my siblings, repeating “do not forget me!”
I kissed my mother’s head and said “forgive me and supplicate for me!”
I went outside the house surprised by the number of the Shabiha “The Emergency Forces”, all masked and armed!
their stares pointed towards me! who’s in-between two (female) Shabiha, while a third walked in front of me. The cars outside the house were enormous.. i was shocked by how many there were, it really shocked me,
because who am i so that all of those forces come to arrest me!
what did i do that scared them so much, causing them to panic!
oh wonder oh wonder My mother walked behind me while the (female) Shabiha held me, weeping and repeating “i’m trusting my daughter to you, she’s sick and did not eat breakfast, please my daughter is in your hands, please” I entered the car and looked back to see my mother and siblings getting close to the car I’m in, while the Shabiha held them back, i took a long look at my little siblings faces, perhaps i would memorize their facial features for my long departure while i’m at it……… The Prison Oh i wish i was dead and not a captive in their hands… an interrogator mocked my Hijab, slandered the Mujahiddeen and the Muhajirat.. calling them the ugliest of names! After he finished interrogating me in a “really late hour of the night”
they led me to solitary cell and after they closed the door on me, i stayed alone, 
and i began thinking… Oh Allah.. just last night i was wondering how the imprisoned sisters are doing
and my situation right now answers all of my questions!
I wonder how many monotheist sister spent her night in this cell before me!! I stood and prayed and asked Allah a lot that he would support me and keep me steadfast and grant me relief.. In the morning they opened the cell door on me and in the hands of the Shabiha were shackles!
she chained me and led me out… the chains caused me a great pain.. she asked me to walk faster in some long corridors.. until i reached the interrogation room.. and in the afternoon i returned to my cell! I kept asking myself.. i wonder; will i go back to the embrace of my mother again? or will i be like Hilah, Mai, Aminah and others like them, having the cells embracing them for years! To Allah i complain those who fail us… This is happening in a land where its people claim Islam as their religion.. they pray, they fast but they do not prevent the oppressor nor support the oppressed. I know that the farthest you’ll reach from all of this is getting touched and dropping a tear or two, but at least i made you remember your sisters and maybe some of you will shed all the tears they had! Tears do not break shackles, tears are just a momentary reaction.. a temporary sentimental drowning, 
this is my story, and surly the story of every monotheist sister you have forgotten in the prisons of the Land of al Haramayen, the gulf, Egypt, Tunisia and Europe… - Let it be known that when the prophet salla allah alayhi wa sallam said “free the captive” he - may my mother and father be ransomed for him - did not mean women, rather men; so what do you think happens to the poor weak women?! The birds of my hopes are long gone, soaring faraway, whenever i try to see in you the glory of the companions, the first generation, except that my vision (always) return to me fatigued! Oh how many times have i looked at you (thinking) that the willful forthcoming salvation laid in you, but it seems my insight had no light, a mere confused look! Sustenance and following the tails of cows have busied you from breaking the chains, and now your (goal) in dunya became a wife (to marry)! Stop!
Wipe your tears!
I do not need a tear from you, lest you keep reminding me of it! Written by // Your sister, the prisoner of cells (Original Letter in Arabic) (Letter in English)

[star-valo]

Better by Markiplier - Day Fifty Three

Guess what I’ve not spoken about in a little while? MY FEELINGS! Guess what the 25 year old who has been physically unable to sleep for the past two days and is a little bit sleep deprived, is going to talk about. MY FEELINGS!

Buckle up Kiddies, I’m about to get weird. (Also, over-use of italics ahead - Very long, I seem to have rambled on a bit too much)

Now i’m pretty sure it’s blatantly obvious to anyone who’s spoken to me within the last... two months? that I’ve been having an issue with my ridiculous excuse for an obsessive crush on Mark.

Now I’m not proud of it, it makes me feel like a stupid tweenager with her first crush. Which is exactly why I want rid of these feelings. I have been there, done that, seen the fall out, of all the (usually girls) during my time at school who got a super crazy, obsessive crush on someone (usually someone in a band of some description) and getting extremely, extremely posessive. To the point where I got verbally harassed by a classmate for saying that I liked David Tennat as the Doctor... yeah... he apparently belonged to her and I wasn’t allowed to even watch the TV show he was in at the time? Emotions make people crazy, what can I say?

Thankfully, I’m pretty sure I’m not at that level of obsessive creepyness, but then, you never think you’re as bad as you are, do you? As such, I’m gonna be brutally honest for a bit, I’ve said this on the Discord server a while back, but it keeps weighing heavily on my mind. So hopefully, saying all this again now might help lift that burden slightly, ‘cos damn did it feel a lot lighter last time I “verbalised” it...

Let me preface this by saying I have nothing against Amy, really, I don’t. She seems absolutely lovely, and I’m glad she makes Mark happy. I genuinely have no negative feelings for her. However, even the mention of her is enough to make my heart drop and ache in a way I cannot explain. It’s stupid, I know this, but for some reason, my brain and my heart won’t talk to eachother and sort their shit out. Like, Seriously guys, stop, or get it together, It’s making me ache. So I avoid her. Which, by some people’s reasoning, isn’t helping my issue, but why would I want to put myself through pain if I can avoid it? Simple, because I can’t get my head to talk to my heart. My head knows there’s no chance of Mark even knowing I exist, let alone wanting to be anything more than a passing aquaintance with me, so why drag out the inevitable? Why put myself through all this emotional turmoil just for the sake of not feeling like my heart is a lead weight? Because he’s my coping mechanism. Simple as. Admittedly, he’s either become more than just a coping mechanism, or I’m leaning far too heavily on said coping mechanism... (I think we all know which one is more likely here, lets be honest)

What is he helping me cope with you may ask? As my bestie put it, he’s showing me that not every guy I find attractive is going to manipulate and abuse me. Because he physically can’t, but it’s enough to start building up the thought that I may be able to have another relationship at some point. I’m tired of being alone, and I was resigned to the fact that I’d be alone forever after what was done to me. But what do you do when you’re an introvert with no social circle and very few avenues to meet new people? It’s where my overactive imagination comes into a league of it’s own and create a fantasy life for me, and guess who it revolves around. It’s also probably important to note here that I wam well aware, that just because I find someone attractive doesn’t mean a relationship is a given progression. I have had one relationship in my 25 years, and I’ve just told you how that ended up. What’s really fuckin’ me over here is that he’s the only person who has ever made me feel the things I’m currently feeling, and I’m not gonna lie, it’s freaking me the fuck out. I don’t like it, it’s confusing and it hurts. The Asexual is feeling things.

So how do I get a coping mechanism, for my coping mechanism? I need to get out more, I think that’s a logical conclusion to draw here. However, distancing myself from him as I mentioned in a previous one of these write-ups that no one reads (Disabling the notifications I had for him, stopping the alerts on my phone when he uploaded a new video/went live/ posted a tweet) doesn’t seem to have helped in any way. Which is annoying as all fuck. It just means I’ve now lapsed into constantly checking these platforms to see if he’s said or done anything. Which is fucking creepy. Honestly, I don’t want to become one of those people and I can’t help but feel like that’s the path I’m heading down?

This whole venture was supposed to be a positive, uplifting thing, to try and get myself to a happier mental state after being completely void of what made me who I am for so long. I’m loosing weight, yes, that’s a good thing, I’m happier in that department, but fuck this has made me face some pretty shitty mental demons. This one just so happens to be one of the biggest and most challenging ones I’ve come across so far.

I’ve got to keep on going, because if there’s one thing I am, it’s fucking stubborn. (which may be why my heart is not accepting the reality of things here, but hey) I don’t know how I’m going to deal with this, but I know it’s helped to air it all out. I’m also going to rest quite happily in the knowledge he’ll never read this, despite his name being in the tags, because who would read this mini essay on “poor wittle Star’s feels”?

Sometimes, it’s nice to just type and let things come out, because that’s literally what I’ve been doing for the last half hour! If you did read all this shit, one - why? and two - have a cookie.

I promise not to post another thing this long, about my feelings, for a while. It’s genuinely been nice to air it all out. Maybe now they’ll let me sleep.

[showmethedestiel]

Like I said; I don’t like Hospitals

Chapter Twelve

[Masterlist]

Summary:  You help Misha while he’s going through a hard time. The two of you quickly become friends, but will it lead to something more in such trying circumstances?

Words: 2,714

Pairing: Misha/Reader

“Y/N, can you come here for a sec?” Misha calls through from the kitchen.

You wander through to see him on his phone, leaning against the countertop. “What’s up?” You ask, taking an apple from the fruit bowl.

“I kinda need to talk to you about something.” He sighs.

“Uh-oh.”

“It’s nothing bad.” Misha chuckles, “It’s just that Darius finished editing the episode of Cooking Fast and Fresh with West, and all the good bits have you in them.”

You nod slowly. “So, you want my permission to post it?”

“Well, yes. But it’s more than that. I’m a public figure whose wife died recently and now I’m living with this beautiful girl who clearly loves my kids, who I film retching into my toilet.” Misha chuckles. “People are gonna assume stuff.” He hesitates, “And unfortunately you might get shit for it.”

“Do you mind?” You ask, taking a bite of the apple.

Misha shakes his head, “Not if you don’t.” He pauses as if he’s thinking, “Darius suggested it might be easier to go public at this point.”

You consider this for a few moments before nodding. “Okay. If that’s best, I’m cool with it.”

Misha raises an eyebrow, “You sure? You don’t have to.”

“I’m sure.” You smile, walking over to wrap your arms around his neck. “I love you, after all.”

Misha smirks and leans down to kiss you, before taking your arms and moving them from behind his neck.

You give him a confused look, before he takes a bite of your apple, smirking.

“So,” He says, “You wanna see the tweet?” He walks over to his laptop on the table.

“You’re doing it over Twitter?” You laugh, following him.

Misha shrugs, “It’s my preferred method of communication.” He turns the laptop to face you, “Here.” He says.

On the screen there’s a picture you’ve never seen before, and didn’t see anyone take at the time. It’s of you and Misha two nights ago among the trees. You’re looking around in awe, and he’s looking at you with pure adoration.

“Jensen took it when we first got there.” Misha explains, watching you to gauge your reaction.

“Well damn,” You say, nodding in approval. “We look good.” You grin and Misha smiles widely.

You look at the screen again and read the caption:

Found: one girlfriend; short, adorable. Please claim if yours (although if you do – I know you’re lying because she’s mine.)

“Nice.” You laugh.

A few hours later Misha posts both the announcement and the episode of Cooking Fast and Fresh with West. For the rest of the day you very carefully avoid going on any social media, but once you’re lying in bed next to Misha curiosity gets the better of you.

You pick up your phone and sign into your personal Twitter – where, of course, people have found you already. You have a couple dozen Misha fan accounts following you, but that’s manageable so far.  

You go to Misha’s Twitter, mentally bracing yourself to go through the replies on his post.

There’s the typical “dad” and “marry me”, but once you get past those, you see

You look so happy!

Aww, y’all are so cute together

She is so pretty!!!

Slayy Misha

You cover your grin with your hand, the positivity overwhelming you.

“Babe, you okay?” Misha asks, noticing you.

You nod slowly, “Have you seen the comments on your post?” You ask, smiling.

Misha grins in relief, “Yeah – they love you.” He laughs.

You go back to scrolling through Twitter – there are a few tabloids calling you Misha’s Rebound but they don’t ruin the fan’s reaction.

After a few minutes you ask, “Hey, do you mind if I tweet a photo of us?”

“Sure – just no nudes.” Misha teases. “Although your social media will get mobbed.”

“Yeah, I know.” You say, looking through your pictures. “I’m prepared.”

Eventually you settle on a picture you took a few days ago, of you and Misha making faces at the camera. You caption it –

Hello world. You might have heard of my adorkable bf Dmitri.

You put your phone down and wait for Misha to check his Twitter. You watch him as his phone buzzes, he smiles – then he glares at you.

“Come on,” He laughs, “Dmitri? Really?”

You grin and shrug. “You have my Twitter notifications on?”

Misha shrugs and murmurs. “Not anymore.”

Later you notice he retweeted your photo anyway. You scroll through some of the comments and laugh when you see:

Yes! A new source of adorable Misha photos – score.

You decide to reply with:

True. There will be a lot of Misha pics from me; it is my true purpose in life.

You toss your phone away and look over to see Misha asleep, you frown – it’s late but you’re not tired in the slightest.

You carefully slip out of bed after turning the lights off, and wander down the hall, wondering what to do at midnight on a Tuesday.

You make your way into the living room, where there’s still a small pile of your things that no one put away, kneeling down you notice your sketchbook, a few canvases and paints.

Hmm.

You fill a jar with water and take everything upstairs, turning on the dimmest light in the bedroom. There’s nowhere to sit with a good view of Misha, so you move a few of your things off the dresser in the corner of the room and clamber on top.

Here you have a good angle of Misha’s sprawled out form, half under - half on top of the covers – his bedhead hair sticking up at angles on the pillow, and the sinews of his toned back emphasised by the warm, low light.

You sketch out his form, and then begin to paint. Art runs in your family – but you had never considered it more than a casual hobby; something you’d do at weekends, or if a friend asked. That wasn’t to say you weren’t good – you were very good, but art had never seemed like a real future for you.

You end up painting for hours - into the early morning, until pale morning sun begins flowing through the curtains; ruining your lighting.

You squint through your tired eyes, inspecting your work. You’ve always been a perfectionist when it came to your work – but it is perfect.

Exhausted, you place the painting haphazardly onto the dresser and slide off the hard wood surface, collapsing into bed next to Misha.

Misha doesn’t wake you when he gets up to drive the kids to school, instead letting you sleep until midday.

When you finally wander into the kitchen, yawning, Misha’s at the table – on his laptop. In front of him is your painting from last night. You’re sincerely taken aback – seeing as you genuinely forgot you’d made it in your weird, sleep-deprived state. “Morning.” You say, coming over.

Misha looks up, startled. “Morning Y/N, did you paint this?” He asks, gesturing at the painting.

You nod casually, getting a bowl from the cupboard and turning back to face him.

Misha’s staring at you incredulously, “Y/N this is incredible – I didn’t know you could paint!” He exclaims.

You shrug, “It’s just a hobby.” You bring your newly made cereal back to the table and sit across from Misha, taking another look at your painting.

It’s good – better than you remembered.

“You should paint more – this is fucking amazing.” He says sincerely.

“Hm.” You say, taking a spoonful of cornflakes. “Maybe I will.”

The next morning Misha comes back into the kitchen after dropping the kids off at school and sighs dramatically.

“What’s up?” You ask, putting the kettle on to make tea.

“Work wants me to come back soon; which I don’t mind – I’m kinda looking forward to going back - but it means moving back up to Washington – Jared and Jensen left yesterday, and…” He trails off, frowning.

“What?”

“Well it’s just… Vicki always used to look after the kids when I was gone, but now… I’m gonna have to get a nanny or something.” He flops down onto a chair.

“Well…” You start hesitantly, before sighing. “I think we should have a conversation.” You say reluctantly before adding, “Like a real, adult conversation.” You take a seat next to Misha.

“Okay…”

“So, you’re gonna be gone sometimes – the kids need looked after. Right now I’m taking time off work with a personal emergency, but I’m meant to be back next week.” You state, absent-mindedly playing with the sleeve of your shirt.

“Y/N, do you like your job?” Misha asks abruptly.

You shrug, “It’s just a job.”

“Do you like painting?” He continues,

“Well, yeah.” You say, starting to regret starting this conversation. “But it isn’t sustainable – I wouldn’t make enough to live off my art…”

“Which is where I come in.” Misha interrupts. “I think you would make more than enough to live off, because your stuff is fucking amazing, but even if you don’t…” He trails off.

“Misha no.” You say firmly.

He raises his hands in defence, “It’s just accommodation.” He says, “And food. And it would give you time to look after the kids… It’s just a suggestion. Think about it. Okay?”

You sigh, “Okay, I’ll think about it.” You roll your eyes. “I guess it would mean West and Maison wouldn’t need a nanny…”

“Exactly! That’s the attitude.” Misha chuckles, standing. “Plus…” He adds, “We have a spare room up North that would look incredible as a studio.”

“Stop.” You laugh, standing to cover Misha’s mouth with your hand.

He just grins, “I’ve been wanting to do some renovating – it’s a perfect excuse.”

“Are you serious about all this?” You ask.

“Yes.” Misha says simply, moving your hand to lean down and kiss you softly.

Misha has to go back to the set of Supernatural a short three days later. In those three days, you quit your job and Misha packs the both his car and your mini with things for the move.

You sigh, taking a step back to admire your work. Your car is filled to the brim with clothes, bags, food and your belongings.

Misha’s driving the kids because he “didn’t want to subject you to that hell”, and you’re following him up to Bellingham – stopping overnight in Medford, Oregon. You’re setting off early tomorrow.

“You ready for tomorrow?” Misha asks, coming to stand beside you.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” You chuckle, slightly nervously. “I’ve never driven this far before.”

“It’ll be fine, as long as you’re stocked up on coffee, snacks and good music – you’re good. Just be glad you don’t have to deal with those monsters.” He gestures at West; currently chasing Maison along the sidewalk.

“That I am glad of.” You say, genuinely relieved.

The four of you stop at a hotel overnight, which is stressful because the kids have so much pent up energy. Luckily, you and Misha do not have any energy – so you basically pass out as soon as you see the bed.

As the sun’s setting on the second day, you see that heaven-sent road sign – “Welcome to Bellingham”. You breathe a sigh of relief and follow Misha’s car to a navy house, looking out onto the marina.

You park and get out of the car, stretching as you walk over to Misha – who’s doing much the same.

“How was that?” He asks.

“I’m sore, sweaty and exhausted. So I’d say it went better than expected.” You say, opening the back door to retrieve a sleeping Maison.

Misha takes West and leads you in through the front door and up the stairs to the kids room. You tuck Maison in and follow Misha to the master bedroom, not even bothering to undress before collapsing onto the soft, white blankets.

“We’ll unpack the cars tomorrow.” Misha mumbles, crawling under the covers beside you.

You wake up early – before anyone else, so decide to look around a bit. The view out of the bedroom window is a stunning picture of water glistening in the morning light.

After taking a shower, you change into a robe and wander downstairs to find the kitchen – deciding to make pancakes, you get out some plates and a pan, but realise all the food is in cool-bags in the car.

You sigh and wander outside, grabbing a few bags of food and some clothes for everyone.

“Do I smell pancakes?” Misha says, appearing at the kitchen door.

“That’s why I admire you darling – your good nose.” You tease, leaving the pancakes to wander over and kiss the tip of Misha’s nose.

Misha scrunches up his face before pulling you in by your hips and kissing your lips.

“Mm,” You hum, breaking away. “Pancakes!” You say, skipping back to the stove.

Misha chuckles, following you. “Are the kids not up yet? That’s weird.”

You shrug, “Peaceful though.”

“True.” He laughs, “They might lynch us if they miss pancakes though.”

“Good point – our lives are in serious danger, you should wake them.

Misha has to go to work that afternoon, which means – after unpacking the cars – the rest of the morning is spent showing you where everything is, how everything works and what to do if something goes wrong.

“I’ve got it Mish.” You laugh, batting his hand away from one of the many dials on the electrical box. “I’m not gonna need to use any of this stuff.”

Misha sighs, “Fine. I’ll be back late tonight though – and if anything happens-“

“Mish.” You cut him off. “I know, you said. I’ll call. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

“Remember to feed the chickens.” He adds, kissing you cheek. “I’d better get going, have you got this?”

“Have fun at work babe.” You say, following him to the front door. “Say hi to Jared and Jensen for me. Go knock everyone’s socks off.” You smirk, kissing him before he goes out to his car.

You’re checking your phone on the couch once you’ve fed, read to, and put to bed the kids that evening.

You notice that basically the entire cast of Supernatural – who you may or may not have googled - have congratulated you and Misha on Twitter.

You smile and get to replying to everyone, as well as answering a few of the fans questions.

After that, you go to check out the room Misha said you could use for art – it’s spacious and lets in plenty of natural light. There’s very little furniture in it, aside from a wooden table and a few chairs. You bring all your art supplies in, dumping them on the table. Your sketchbook falls open on one of your best pieces – it’s of your sister, dancing with one of her ex-boyfriends. You smile, and briefly consider posting it online – to gauge the reaction – but decide to call your sister and make sure she’s cool with it first.

“Hey Y/N.” She answers.

“Hey.” You say, subconsciously doodling on the table. “Oh, first things first – I’m in Washington.”

“The state?” She asks, surprised.

“Yes. Misha had to go back to work, so I went with him.”

“Right. Of course.” She says, laughing. “I saw that you went public on Twitter – people even found me you know.”

“Ah. Sorry about that.” You say awkwardly. “But um, I was wondering if you’d mind if I published one of my drawings of you?”  

Beth sighs. “I guess not – the one of me dancing with Liam? Yeah, it’s good.”

“Yeah. Misha convinced me to start doing shit with my art.” You chuckle.

“Huh, give that man an award – I’ve been trying to do that for years. Anyway – I’d better go. Have fun in Washington.”

“Bye Beth.” You say, hanging up.

The drawing is just a taster, so you take a photo of it and post it to Twitter with the caption:

Does anyone know why this happened when I put a pencil to paper?? Is it cursed?

Immediately a hoard of your new followers comment on “this is amazing” and “she can draw too? Damn”. You smile to yourself and put your phone down, deciding to start another painting; this time of Misha and his kids. You pull up the reference image on your laptop, roll up your sleeves and get started on the large canvas.  

Chapter Thirteen

[artificialqueens]

Gutted (Katya/Violet) - Fryshook

Violet and Katya - or rather Jason and Brian - run into each other in L.A. and reminisce about a close call on the road. And then they keep running into each other. Kinda.

AN: As seen on Ao3.

Meeting went well but idk. We’ll see what happens. Don’t forget that I’m flying in at 7am Weds. Pls don’t sleep in and make me have to talk to another fucking wannabe DJ who just does Uber as a side gig

Jason sent off the text and headed out of the WoW offices. The young Queen looked up from a particularly hypnotic thirst trap in time to notice a black-clad guy in a baseball cap also stopping to check his phone before exiting out onto the street. A smile crept onto Jason’s face.

“Dad?”

Katya - well, Brian, at the moment - whipped his head around to find Violet Chachki- or Jason, rather; Violet would surely be into a guy that jacket, but wouldn’t be caught dead in it, not to mention the floppy hat- standing in the door frame of the abandoned waiting room.

“I thought I smelled something,” Brian cackled, swooping his young friend into a hug, lifting skinny Jason Dardo off their feet like an uprooted sapling. He threw in a couple dry humps before setting the young Queen down and stepping back to get a better look.

“Look at you, you fuckin’ giraffe carcass.” He tweaked the big black hat covering Jason’s head. “Is nice,” he said, Russian accent thick, before dropping back into his natural voice: “How are you?”

Jason shrugged. “Getting laid, getting paid… I missed you, bitch.”

“You’re just saying that because I’m an All Star. No! You don’t even answer my texts, bitch!”

Jason rolled their eyes. That’s not true, but it’s not…not true.

“Look, Katya,” Jason shifted, posing. “I have to maintain boundaries. I am, after all… a winner.”

Brian laughed through his teeth as he slowly wrapped his hands around Jason’s neck. Jason laughed as the smaller man thought better of this move, dropping his hands and stepping away with a sniff.

“No, no…” he said. “You’d like that too much.”

Jason stared at Brian, taking her in. It was a night off, apparently, so her - his, Brian’s, beard was creeping in, a touch of silver shining on his cheek. Jason suppressed a weird urge to reach out and touch it.

Jason really had missed Brian more than they realized; not Katya blowing up Violet’s twitter mentions at 2am with some amusing nonsense (Jason hated this because it was stupid but also because it made them miss Brian’s sleep-deprived babbling on that disgusting tour bus), but Brian, right here, rolling his eyes and huffing behind those big, fake glasses.

Brian, who always answered the door when Jason, drunk and giggling and full of dumb ideas, knocked.

“I honestly don’t remember the last time I saw you when we weren’t like. Working,” Jason said, finally. Brian nodded slowly, his features narrowing with suspicion.

“You’re being shady,” he said, the smallest hint of a laugh in his voice. “You’re judging me for living my lumberjack fantasy.”

Jason rolled their eyes. “No, bitch. Sometimes I just forget that you’re like…” And now Jason did dare to reach out, their thumb just barely grazing the edge of Brian’s cheekbone,”…a dude.”

Brian’s eyes locked with Jason’s as they slowly dropped their hand away from his face, a curious smile tugging at his lips.

“Excuse you,” he said, scratching his chin. “Some of of the most beautiful women in the world have aggressive facial stubble.”

“Whatever you say,” Jason said. “Hot douche.”

That smile returned. “That’s ‘hottest’ douche,” Brian said.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

Brian laughed. “I see what you’re doing, Chachki, and no, I will not choke you out, you horny, horny, little freak.”

*

About two thousand variants of “you’re fucking stupid”s later, Jason followed Brian home to his new pad in the hills which was, as expected, a fucking disaster.

“You need to hire a damn maid, bitch. Get it together.“ A thick booklet on the coffee table caught Jason’s eye. They took a hit off Brian’s vape pen and leaned over to pick it up, flipping through the pages. “The fuck is this? Your erotica manuscript? Am I in it?”

“I know you’ll probably never see one of these again,” Brian began, “but it’s a film script, darling.”

Jason stared at him, a small smile sneaking across their face. “Biiiiitch.”

Brian grinned, snatching the script away and tossing it back onto the table. “Got my SAG card and everythang.”

“Girl, you don’t gotta tell me,” Jason said. “I’ve seen your balls.”

Brian snatched a throw pillow and began to beat Jason with it. “Rotted-gutted-giraffe-cunt!” He tossed the pillow across the room and waited for Jason’s giggling to subside. “I’m still not gonna choke you.”

They sat on the couch in silence for a long stretch after this, smoking. And then Jason said:

“Do you remember Manchester?”

Brian nodded.

“No, I mean…” Jason looked at Brian now, who returned their gaze, his face unreadable. “Do you remember…? It was my birthday…”

Brian nodded again, slowly. “I remember.”

“You were so funny,” Jason muttered, embarrassed. Not sure why they brought it up. “You like, slapped my phone to the ground.”

“Girl.” Now there was an edge to the Bostonian’s usually soft voice. “You were blitzed and I was in my goddamned motherfuckin’ robe. I didn’t want you to record whatever was happening.”

“Yeah, but. What was happening?”

Brian rolled his eyes, tossing his glasses onto the table.

“I don’t know! I mean, at the time I had half a mind to think you were gonna ask me to put my ding-a-ling in your butt, but instead…”

“Tell me I didn’t ask you to do a shot with me,” Jason said.

“Ya asked me to do a shawt with ya,” Brian replied, voice low and slow, Southie accent thick. “Birthday cake vodka, if I recawl.” He cleared his throat and took a huff off his pen. “Something vile like that.”

Jason squeezed their eyes shut and sighed, collapsing backward onto the couch.

“We didn’t,” Jason groaned.

“No, no.” Brian cooed, patting and rubbing Jason’s thigh. When he stopped, Jason opened their eyes and looked at him. He was staring straight ahead at the taxidermy fox frozen on the table. “You did give me a hand job, though.”

Jason’s jaw dropped. Brian met his gaze, stone faced, for what felt like an eternity before finally breaking into a grin.

“You fucking bitch,” Jason felt their heart beat return to normal and relaxed into the couch, Brian’s cackle cracking into their fuzzy brain like a baseball bat.

*

They watched a couple of episodes of Hoarders and chatted a bit about Garbage Island and inevitable environmental destruction before Jason, reluctantly, decided to head back to their hotel in the city, a) because it was very late, but mostly b) because Brian did not offer them a place to sleep, whether that be a spot on the couch, or in his bed.

Which was… fine. It would have probably been a little weird anyway.

Actually, the only odd thing was how Brian dodged Jason’s texts the next day. Which was… well, too bad, because before they knew it, Jason was back home in NYC, working, goofing off with Brad, and trying not to let their mind wander back to the blond Masshole in the Hollywood hills.

Which was… difficult, seeing as Katya had infiltrated every aspect of “mainstream” drag and could be avoided about as effectively as one could avoid salt. You can try your damnedest, but bitch, it’s in everything. Especially if you leave the house. Even in fucking Williamsburg.

So after about a month of this, Jason went out, got drunk (oh, they were having a good time), whipped out their phone and tweeted: I am so going to fuck @Katya_Zamo in Mexico City.

Ignore that, they thought, slipping the phone back into their pocket and grinning at a drunken and very perplexed Bradley Callahan, who hesitantly smiled back.

“What?” He said, handing Jason a colorful shot.

“Go look at what I just tweeted,” Jason said, downing the drink and yelping like a wet poodle.

Brad opened up his phone and scoffed. “Bitch, nobody’s gonna buy that.”

Jason squinted at him, offended. Brad took a long sip of his drink, waiting. Jason thought for a moment, swiftly tapped out another tweet, pocketed the phone again, and snapped their fingers for a another shot.

Brad refreshed his timeline and barked out another laugh. “There we go. That’ll do, pig.”

*

The alcohol was fun but it did nothing to keep Jason from obsessively refreshing their mentions; they’d never seen so many .gifs of Trixie fucking Mattel in their life, but that was kind’ve funny, at least. If anything, this little stunt would at least get the fans going, which Jason lived for.

A reply from @PearletsButtPads with a link to some bootleg YouTube video caught their eye: “Even after she said Ginger deserved your crown? Girl I guess…”

Mute. Blockéd. Jason thought for a moment. No, shit. Then they’ll know. Unblocked. Cunt.

The room was spinning and their ego was stinging like a motherfucker. Their phone whistled with a new message. Jason opened it so fast they nearly tossed it across the floor. It was a text from Trixie:

“Thanks for the fucking literal hundreds of tweets clogging my shit. So cool.”

Jason rolled their eyes and sent Firkus back a series of the unflattering Trixie screencaps riddling their mentions in wordless reply.

Another message. Not Trixie. Jason grinned.

Katya had replied with .gif of a winking lesbian.

Well, Jason thought. That’ll have to do.

*

A few days later, Jason was in Mexico City. The last BOTS stop of the year, and maybe ever for some, if Brian’s mumbling about retiring and leaving the RuGirl life behind held any water. Jason doubted any of that was imminent; Katya was still very much in demand. But the thought still made them a little sad. But only a little.

They walked into the dressing room, and Brian was at his mirror, starting his face. He spotted Jason’s reflection and grinned.

They hugged. “No hat today?”

“No hat today,” Jason replied, taking a step back to take in Brian’s hard new physique. “Jesus Christ, Hollywood Hogan.”

Brian cackled, horrified. “Hogan? Don’t start, you fuckin’ dickpig.”

Jason pulled out his chair, still staring at Brian. What the fuck. “It’s really just the hair,” they said, igniting a delightful series of curses from the older Queen.

 *

The show was a blast, as usual. A few of the girls, including Katya, were staying over a day to explore the city, so they made tentative plans to hit up a dispensary Katya had been recommended and have a little fun.

Violet was excited, wondering if they should use to opportunity to embarrass Katya in front of the other girls by bringing up the Ginger bullshit when he was in the midst of an edible-induced stupor. And they would have, but Katya ran out of the room at just the right time to diarrhea shit herself.

Violet figured they’d put a pin in it. Whatever. They’re having fun, for once - why fuck that up just yet?

An unpleasant shiver settled in Jason’s gut.

*

Mexico was a wash. Violet and Katya kissed and hugged and said their goodbyes, made empty promises to get together sometime, and Brian and Jason boarded their flights.

Jason didn’t bother mentioning that they had business in L.A. in the coming weeks. They assumed Katya would be on the road, and if not… well. It was probably for the best not to get their hopes up.

Jason made their way down the empty hall and stopped in front of one of the dressing rooms, debating a mirror selfie. They were excited and they wouldn’t be able to say a word about any of this for probably months…

Jason glanced around for any stray interns, and finding the coast clear, slipped into the room, where they found a half-naked Katya Zamolodchikova. Well, Brian. It looked like Jason had just missed Katya.

They stared at each other for a moment.

“What the fuck?” The words barely left Brian’s mouth. Jason collapsed against the door, wheezing. What the fuck.

Jesus, Jason thought, reeling themself back to Earth. They must keep this bitch on a tight leash.

They decided to actually use this as their opening line, to which Brian cackled and said, “Are you stalking me?”

“You fucking wish, bitch.”

“I do,” Brian nodded frantically, “I’m very lonely.”

Jason explained that they were just passing through, having worked out some kinks regarding a pilot they were hoping to shoot in the new year, and Brian had just wrapped some…thing he wasn’t really willing to discuss in much detail.

“Finally made that porn you’re always talking about?” Jason said.

“Girl please. You know I’d need you as a technical consultant,” Brian winked, shrugging on his coat. “But you are gonna love it.”

Jason couldn’t help themself: “I don’t really ‘do’ Youtube shows, Katya.”

Brian stared at Jason and shook his head, irritated. “Oh,” he said. “I miss you. I miss you all the time, you skunky cunt.”

Jason laughed and pulled him into a hug. Before they separated, Jason said: “wish I could say the same, but I’m a little sick of hearing about you saying I stole Ginger’s crown or whatever.”

Brian stiffened. He pulled back, looking up at Jason. “I never said that,” he said.

Jason pursed their lips. They were used to being the subject of shit talking, used to the disrespect and jealousy, but this was… a sore spot. More so than they’d realized before they’d actually said it. Of all the queens, they didn’t think Katya would still be flapping her big fucking mouth like that. It’s not personal, it’s drag, blah blah blah, but Jason just thought… Well, whatever.

They’d gotten so close over the years, working, touring. Hell, there were a couple times…Paris, Vancouver…where some of that playful rubbing and groping between Katya and Violet, and Brian and Jason - and whoever they were in between - got a little intense.

But they kept cool. They kept it professional. It was a lot less risky to just slink back to the hotel room and bust a quick nut, or fuck off with road trade… Why mess things up with a colleague - a sister - when you have so many more practical options?

I guess we won’t have to worry about that anymore, Jason thought.

“Once a hot mess…” They muttered.

“Jason.” Brian grabbed their hand. Jason looked at their joined hands for a moment, met Brian’s eyes and shook their head. “Violet,” he amended, squeezing the pale appendage. Jason’s posture relaxed and Brian took the cue to lead this conversation to the the couch. Jason followed, begrudgingly, letting Brian keep his hand as they sat next to each other.

“Whatever I said,” Brian held Jason’s captured hand between both of his, “I didn’t mean it. Not like that.”

“Of course you did, Yekaterina.” Jason extracted themself and drew their hands to their sides, a weird pleasure crawling up their spine at the dejection painting Brian’s features. “You’re entitled to your wrong opinions like everyone else.”

Brian pulled a distressed face that yanked Jason back to their long days in the workroom years ago.

At least she’s figured what to do with that hair, Jason thought. What’s left of it.

“Violeeeeet…” Brian clawed at his face and slid forward until he was face-down on Jason’s thigh, where he mumbled, “you’re making me feel like such a cunt. Not the good kind. Come on…”

Violet stared at the morose blond head bowed before them. After a moment of listening to Brian’s fake sobs, they sighed loudly and placed their hand on the back of his head.

“Katya,” Jason drawled. They felt the muscles work in the smaller man’s face as his mouth quirked up in a mischievous grin. “I forgive you.”

Jason watched Brian’s shoulders relax and curled their fingers tightly into his hair.

“Don’t be such a bitch, bitch,” Jason said. “You’re not good at it.”

This earned a shiver and a giggle from the other girl. Jason loosened their grip, so Brian reached out to grasp the young Queen’s wrist, lifted it away from his head, and slowly rose to face those pursed lips with an amused grin. He brought Jason’s knuckles to his lips.

“Yes, your majesty,” he said.

Jason ignored their twitching cock and rolled their eyes. “That might’ve actually been sexy if you had fucking eyebrows, bitch.”

Brian whipped his head to the side with a laugh, as if he’d been stricken. He tightened his grip on Jason, pressing a series of rapid kisses up and down their long arm, finally earning a genuine laugh from the young Queen.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Brian finally released the arm, letting it rest against the cushion. He didn’t leave it alone long, though, quickly intertwining his fingers with Jason’s, staring down at their joined hands.

“You’re so fucking stupid.” Jason watched him, reflecting on how, once again, this manic clown had completely obliterated any lingering resentment they had been holding on to. “You’re an idiot.”

Katya was good at that. Brian was really good at that.

Brian disengaged their conjoined hands to hold two fingers in place of his absent eyebrows and asked, “Are you hard right now?”

Jason stared at him.

“A little.”

Brian cackled.

“You fucking whore! I knew it.”

“What can I say,” Jason drawled. “Groveling just does it for me.”

“I have a boner too! See? I can admit that. Totally natural and not awkward at all. Just two colleagues with erections being emotionally vulnerable…”

“Just girly things.”

They laughed at how stupid this was. It got a little quiet until Brian finally said something.

“Well, Miss Chachki… Lady to lady…”

Jason braced for the incoming joke, but felt their eyebrows climb up instinctively. Something in Brian’s tone, his posture…

“…if you ever want to do something about that,” his green eyes slid to Jason’s crotch before meeting their eyes, and then in his fucking valley girl voice said, “I’m your girl.”

Tongue. Plop.

Jason felt their mouth hang open as they really and truly considered the creature before them. Katya. No; Fucking Brian fucking McCook.

They were just staring at each other now, Brian only smiling slightly.

Jason shook their head and thought about Paris, about Vancouver. Hell, fucking L.A. Fucking L.A. always got weird.

And then there was motherfucking Manchester.

Jason refocused on the carefully styled haircut they had just moments ago ruined, leaving Brian with his natural Jesse Pinkman-at-age-45 look.

They weren’t even mad anymore. But it might make them feel a little better to claw at that hair again.

“I’m into daddies, Katya,” Jason said, carefully. “Not creepy crossdressing uncles.” Brian’s smile melted into a grimace.

“You rotted, gutted… Look. Violet? I would be more than happy to spank you, if that’s what you want. Not even as a sex thing. As your friend and colleague, I will bend you over my knee right now.”

Well.

As his words pinged around Jason’s buzzing brain like a pinball, they thought: the only thing more insane than fooling around with Katya in this deserted dressing room would be running back to their hotel, again, to strip their cock raw, again, to fantasies of getting fucked by motherfucking… Brian.

Jason started laughing. Brian’s face fell. His ears turned pink as Jason’s shoulders shook. He looked like he was trying to force a laugh, but couldn’t quite conjure it up - and Jason felt a little bad about this, but they just could not stop.

“I’m sorry,” Brian mumbled. “That was a little-”

“You dumb whore,” Jason cut in, grabbing Brian by the collar of his coat and yanking him into a kiss.

After a minute or two of fevered, sloppy, I-can’t-believe-this-is-real-and-not-a-bit-for-once making out, Brian’s eyes shot open with a “wait,” as he pulled away from the flushed Jason Dardo straddling his lap and fumbling with his fly. “You know I really do have herpes, right? It’s not gonna be a problem, I just…you know…”

Jason let out an annoyed grunt. “You’re not special, Katya.”

Brian laughed and buried his face into Jason’s chest. “I’m just-”

“If you don’t have herpes,” Jason said, finally slipping their hand around Brian’s cock, “you’re not. Doing. Drag.”

*

Now, Jason hadn’t really been expecting more than some intense making out and maybe a dry hand job. That’s how these spur-of-the-moment hook-ups usually went; after weeks or even years of tension, you both remember what the other one looks like under all the drag and something brief and sexy happens. But just for a moment.

This moment kept stretching on and on and on and neither Jason nor Brian or Katya and Violet made any indication that it needed to stop there; and then again, they were both Queens notorious for pushing it.

So when things progressed and Brian finally said to Jason, “I want to fuck you until shit comes out of your ears,” Jason grabbed a fistful of Brian’s hair, yanked his head back, looked him in the eye and said, “then fuck me.”

“Okay,” Brian breathed, his grin creeping back, “but not here.”

*

They stumbled into the building across the street, Jason staring at the glowing vending machine - the only source of light in the dark…studio? It was hard to tell - as Brian fumbled around looking for a light.

“What is this place?” Jason asked, picking up a disturbing baby-face mask. Brian took the mask and placed it ever so gently back up on the shelf it occupied, along with various other props and knickknacks.

“Willam’s,” Brian said, leading Jason over to a very broken-in looking couch. “I’ve been shooting some stuff here and, uh. I think he’d be fine with this.”

“Couldn’t just spring for an Uber, bitch?”

“It’s rush hour and if I don’t fuck you in the next two minutes I am literally going to combust and burn this entire city to the ground,” Brian said, pulling Jason into a rough kiss. And yeah, he tasted like a cigarette butt soaked in black coffee, but when he tried to pull away, Jason pulled him back in again.

“I’m assuming you know where he keeps his lube and shit?” Brian nodded. Jason pulled him in close, fastening their teeth to his earlobe. “Then what the fuck are you waiting for?”

*

At some point they wound up against the vending machine, but only for a moment as Jason suspected Brian was trying to see if they could knock anything loose; and if that wasn’t enough, once they finally made it back to the couch, Brian almost ruined everything by slamming himself into Jason and grunting, “it’s not that, fuck, you fucking bitch - I don’t think you deserved -” he bit into Jason’s shoulder as Jason murmured, “what? Oh fuck,”- “you deserved it, I was just- Jesus Christ- commenting on society’s tendency to-”

Jason grabbed him by the ears so that they were eye-to-eye and snarled: “Bitch if you don’t shut the fuck up and make me come, I am never going to fucking speak to you again.”

Brian answered with bruising thrusts, wrapping his free hand around Jason’s slender throat as the young Queen’s claws found their way, once again, to the back of Brian’s tender head.

[vsplusonline]

Weighted blankets are trendy, but will they help your child fall asleep?

New Post has been published on https://apzweb.com/weighted-blankets-are-trendy-but-will-they-help-your-child-fall-asleep/

Weighted blankets are trendy, but will they help your child fall asleep?

Weighted blankets are all the rage right now.

These blankets are supposed to mimic deep pressure touch stimulation and have a calming and soothing effect. Often, they are used by those who have a hard time sleeping through the night — but are they safe for children?

READ MORE: Can’t fall asleep? How to create the perfect sleep environment

“If you’re stressed or you have bad sleep habits, you’ll have trouble falling asleep and will likely have anxiety around bedtime,” Evelyne Martello, a sleep clinic nurse at the CIUSS du Nord-de-l’Ile-de-Montreal previously told Global News.

“A weighted blanket will help to quiet down your neurotransmitters [that are fired by anxiety or stress] and help you feel more secure, thus improving your sleep.”

Martello says weighted blankets are often used to help children who are on the autism spectrum, and may suffer from neurological, medical or behavioural issues. It can help comfort them and allow them to fall asleep faster.

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0:31 The growing popularity of weighted blankets

The growing popularity of weighted blankets

There is some evidence to show that using weight as a calming strategy can be effective.

“Weighted blankets have been around for a long time, especially for kids with autism or behavioural disturbances,” Dr. Cristina Cusin, an assistant professor of psychiatry at Harvard Medical School, said in an interview with Harvard Health Publishing.

“It is one of the sensory tools commonly used in psychiatric units. Patients who are in distress may choose different types of sensory activities — holding a cold object, smelling particular aromas, manipulating dough, building objects, doing arts and crafts — to try to calm down.”

READ MORE: Still feel tired after a good night’s sleep? You may have hypersomnia

However, there is little research to prove weighted blankets actually help adults, and there’s way less research on children.

One small 2014 study analyzed the effect of weighted blankets on sleep in children with autism spectrum disorder. Seventy-three children between the ages of five and 16 participated in the randomized controlled trial — “the gold standard type of trial,” said Dr. Jennifer Poon, a behavioural pediatrician at the Medical University of South Carolina.

One group was given weighted blankets while the other was given a placebo, and the results were clear: “It did not help them fall asleep faster, and it did not help them stay asleep [or] wake less often,” said Poon.

5:38 Ask The Doctor: Insomnia and other sleep troubles

Ask The Doctor: Insomnia and other sleep troubles

“I think the question people had looking at this paper … was: Is this more of a placebo effect?”

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Anecdotally, in her work with families of children with disabilities, autism spectrum disorder and ADHD, Poon has found similar results.

“I’ve had families who favour [weighted blankets] and I’ve had families who have said it hasn’t done a thing,” she said.

READ MORE: Oversleeping can increase your risk of stroke by up to 85 per cent, study says

As a pediatrician, Poon always warns parents of the potential risks associated with weighted blankets.

“One, [we need to make sure] that the child can’t open the blanket, take out the weights and swallow them,” she said. “Two, from the suffocation standpoint … if the child isn’t able to move outside of [the blanket] because it’s too heavy, that poses suffocation risk.”

Most weighted blankets come with a recommended weight standard.

Global News contacted Endy, a Canadian mattress company that makes weighted blankets, and a spokesperson said their product is recommended for adult use only.

“It is recommended that a weighted blanket be approximately 10 per cent of a person’s body weight,” said the company. “Our weighted blanket comes in one weight, which is 15 pounds, making it too heavy for most kids.”

Beware the wellness market

Products like weighted blankets have become somewhat trendy, popping up at big retailers like Indigo. On sites like Amazon Canada, anxiety relief products range from necklaces to mists to candles or even teas.

The stigma around the mental health disorder is slowly disappearing, Dr. Katherine Martinez of AnxietyBC previously told Global News, but these products are showing up in the wellness market because of our hectic world.

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“We are in a much more fast-paced existence, especially in urban areas,” she said.

1:02 The unexpected health and social perks of dog ownership

The unexpected health and social perks of dog ownership

She adds being part of this world means wanting to deal with mental health issues quickly, and although she is hesitant to use the phrase, she says some of us look for a “quick fix.”

“You can get everything at your fingertips, so why wouldn’t we have the ability to calm the system?”

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The target consumers of this space are also often vulnerable, she adds, and when products highlight relief, some may be willing to spend hundreds of dollars to make things work.

Some anxiety bracelets and necklaces on Amazon, for example, can cost up to $100, and for some, she adds, this could seem like a good investment for their health.

READ MORE: ‘You’re going to see a different kid’ — Why sleep should come before activities

“If it sounds too good to be true… it probably is. Do your research.”

And while she argues a product won’t cure anxiety, it can offer some relief. Studies have shown, she adds, things like exercise are proven to help people with mild depression and anxiety. Often, it’s about talking to your doctor to see what the best options are.

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“Start with the evidence first and use [these products] with your eyes wide open.”

What happens when kids lack sleep

Not only is a child’s behaviour affected by a lack of sleep, so is their ability to perform in school.

One 2016 study showed a child’s developing brain regions are “hardest hit by sleep deprivation.” Another study found poor sleep was tied to lower academic performance.

“Research shows that having a clear mind is worth more than sometimes studying,” Loewen Nair, parenting expert and co-founder of London, Ont.-based Infinity School, previously told Global News.

“Being able to think requires a good amount of rest.”

Alternative sleep aids for children

In her work, Poon is often asked for safe sleep aids for children.

She has four recommendations:

Keep a routine, even on weekends. “[Use phrases like] ‘time to bed, time to wake’ as much as possible, and saying them seven days a week,” said Poon. “Try to avoid sleeping in on weekends, because that can disrupt our sleep cycle.”

Create soothing bedtime rituals. Calming activities like reading or having a bath, if done at the same time each day, can help a child fall asleep more easily.

Avoid caffeine. “Even things you might forget are caffeinated, like chocolate, coffee-flavoured ice cream and, of course, caffeinated beverages like [pop],” she said.

Avoid screens before bed. “Anything from TV to phones to tablets … and leaving the TV on before bedtime,” said Poon. She recommends turning off all screens one to two hours before bedtime.

— With files from Global News’ Arti Patel & Laura Hensley

Meghan.Collie@globalnews.ca

© 2020 Global News, a division of Corus Entertainment Inc.

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