#I understand to a degree but ma’am…..

[sstrwngers]

lamb to the slaughter

Chapter 1 - 493 words

warnings: general show warnings, mention of rape, if more, please let me know ❤︎

“You will eat the flesh of your sons and the flesh of your daughters.” — Leviticus 26:29

Your head was bowed, your hands perfectly upright, and the tip of your middle finger just inches from your forehead. The old, creaky record player you found at an estate sale filled the dimly lit living room with soft music. It was just you and the meal you had prepared.

You gave thanks for the food before you, then opened your eyes to admire the spread: fresh market potatoes, cut with precision; seasoned, slightly burnt broccoli from the bottom of the fridge; and the centerpiece—a medium-sized cut of flank steak. Garlic, onion powder, salt, and pepper were all you needed, cooked to a perfect 120 degrees. Biting into the meat was a moment you lived for, melting on your tongue like pudding. But the man you took it from was anything but perfect—a serial rapist with a penchant for animal abuse. Yet here he was, on your plate, and he tasted wonderful.

While most would grumble about cleaning up after a meal, for you it was a second reward. How thoroughly could you tidy your little kitchen? How much evidence of murder could you wash down the drain? This was when your thoughts were most ordered, quiet, and reserved. You could reflect on who you had killed and why. A smile crept to your lips. You didn’t often revel in your kills, but this one was special—he tasted so good.

────────────────── ♱

A woman was found six stories below a hotel. Legs broken, blood everywhere. Her head lay at an awkward angle, her eyes fixed on the hotel’s water fountain. Scenes like this never bothered you. Maybe it was your years profiling for Miami Metro, but really, it was your after-hours hobby. Forensics came and went, but your gaze often followed Dexter Morgan. Something about him felt off—the way he held himself, the way he spoke. It reminded you of yourself, and that couldn't be good.

Detective Quinn stood beside you, rambling about alcohol in her hotel room, something you’d already deduced. “Ms. L/N, would you quit staring at Morgan's biceps?” His tone was teasing, but the last part of his sentence was low enough for only you to hear.

“Well, Detective Quinn,” you replied with a smile, “I’m just ensuring our team does a good job.” You winked and turned your attention back to the fountain. Something about it was drawing you in; it felt important.

Standing before the fountain, eyes closed, you heard soft footsteps approaching. “For such a man, your steps are remarkably quiet.” You turned to see Dexter standing before you, silent, his gaze shifting from the body to you. “And now you’re being quiet too, I see,” you said, facing the fountain again.

There, something in the water caught your eye. You reached in, the cold water up to your elbow. “Are they looking at us, Dexter?” You didn’t look at him.

“No.” His voice was rough. “Test this for prints. Don’t tell a soul, do you understand me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

[miloformula123fan]

Hey! Could you do fic about Fernando Alonso x baker!reader from prompt? Tag me later! Thanks

of course darling. im so sorry it took me this long to get it out for you <3

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

and if you want to be added to my taglist lmk :)

and my masterlist is here <3

fernando alonso x baker!reader

“Hola, welcome to pan y amor, what can i get for you?”

“Your number?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh are you taken, my apologies. ”

“...no I’m not taken, just wasn’t expecting you to be so bold. How about you buy something and if you like it you can have my number and take me on a date?”

“I am not usually this bold, I apologise. Okay then, what would you recommend, mi sol?”

“Well, I mean, I have to recommend our natillas de leche, unless your allergic to something in them, then I’d try and think of something else.”

“Not allergic, though if my trainer heard how many of these I was eating.”

“Trainer huh?” as Y/N passed over the natillas. “so , you’re an athlete?”

“F1 driver, Fernando Alonso” he held over his hand to shake, after paying “i’m from here, so I like to come in and spend time with the locals”

“Oh, well I’m not the biggest f1 fan, but I’m sure happy to help the locals, maybe you could introduce me to F1.”

---

“Darling, I’m trying to make some brownies before the bakery opens, you cannot come in here and distract me.”

“Can I make something to help?”

“Do you swear that you will follow my instructions to a T?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay, you can make some caramel slices. You need to grab almond meal, vanilla protein powder, rice malt syrup, coconut oil, peanut butter, and dark chocolate, did you understand that?”

“Yes chef!”

“Okay good. It needs to go in the fridge, and then you can work on the strawberry lemon scones and then when i'm working on the tiramisu you can work on the orange loaf.”

“You’re telling me that when i rock up before my girlfriend officially starts work to hang out with her, all that happens if I have to do unpaid work.”

“Well i can’t pay you a f1 driver wage, because i can’t afford it and also you are not an f1 driver equivalent baker. I don’t even know if it’s worth giving you these ingredients for fear that I cannot sell what you make.”

---

“Okay, welcome back to pan y amor, as you know we in Cogollo, are massive f1 fans, so we have made some pumpkin cream cheese muffins to celebrate Fernando’s 33rd win. We had a little birdy tell us that this was his favourite flavour, so here’s how we make it, as always the full recipe will be on our blog y si quieres ver esta receta en español, ve a nuestro perfil, donde repasamos exactamente la misma receta, pero en español, para que todos nuestros fans de habla hispana también puedan seguirla. We’ve started this recipe by preheating the oven to 175 degrees celsius, which is 350 degrees fahrenheit for our American fans. 

And as my boyfriend gets in the way, the pumpkin cream cheese muffins are gonna be made slower. He loves this flavour so he’d better get out of my way so I can make the muffins, si, comprendo?”

“Comprendo, capitan!”

Bien, bienvenido de nuevo a pan y amor, como ya sabéis, en Cogollo somos grandes fans de la F1, así que hemos preparado unas magdalenas de calabaza y queso crema para celebrar la victoria número 33 de Fernando. Un pajarito nos dijo que este era su sabor favorito, así que así es como lo preparamos, como siempre la receta completa estará en nuestro blog and if you want to see this recipe in english, go to our profile, where we run through the exact same recipe, but in english, so all our english speaking fans can also follow. Comenzamos esta receta precalentando el horno a 175 grados centígrados.’

'Okay call me delusional, but was that Fernando in this tiktok?'

'Why is fernando voicing a random bakery’s tiktoks?'

'this bakery is in his home town, so maybe he knows them'

'WHY IS THE BAKERY OWNER SO PRETTY'

---

i am going to apologise now because I doubt this made sense :)

taglist: @leosxrealm, @pear-1206, @tallrock35, @wolf-knights, @janeholt3

[anisespice]

heyy

can i request hanma w reader who has abandonment issues? if you don’t write for that kind of topic it’s fine!!(:

take care!!<33

of course! thank u for the request anon, sorry for the delay <3 had to do some more research into the topic, and brush up on my hanma lol hope you enjoy :)) !!

pairing: hanma x gn!reader

warnings: mature language, MDI, crude jokes, violence, cringy/cornball behavior lol and hanma gets his own warning, not proof read, sorry for any errors!! and i think that’s it :)

notes: SO SORRY FOR TAKING LITERALLY A WHOLE YEAR TO MAKE THIS ANON, i wanted to do a little bit of research on the topic (ended up learning a little about myself LMAO) but it’s finally done! i’m happy with how it turned out, and i figured this format would work perfectly, so i hope you enjoy!! <333

tagged: @fantasycantasy , @illegalspacecow, @captaincyberqueen

I struggled with the idea of how Hanma would be like with someone with abandonment issues/anxious attachment. At first, I figured he’d be the absolute worst in terms of handling someone with such an intense need for validation and reassurance, but after some further contemplation I realized how he’d be the absolute best—To the most unhealthily healthy degree, if that makes sense. Let me explain:

“yo, who’s blowing up your phone?”

“jeez, your s/o again? talk about excessive”

“couldn’t be me, bro. if i was you, i’d set a boundary-”

hanma wouldn’t miss a beat by giving them a dangerous grin and say, “i’ll a set a boundary for your fucking teeth if you say another word about my s/o.”

then, in the same beat, he’ll answer your call with a whole different energy, like, “hey doll, my love, my sweet, my sexy” something corny like that

you’d express that he said he’d be back around 9, and it was pushing 9:30…

he’d chuckle fondly, “aw, you miss me that bad? you’re obsessed, doll, it’s adorable.~”

the guys with him would watch in shock as the usually violent, and quick to annoyance, shuji hanma was…understanding? patient??

i hc hanma to be so so so patient with you whenever you get that intense clingy feeling, or talk yourself into thinking he’s sick of you and your neediness

like

homie WANTS you to want him

even to an unhealthy attached degree, sign him up, yes ma’am, yes ham, yes turkey

if you do get into those moods of feeling like he’ll leave you, TRUST that he’s gonna feed into it just a little bit (he’s a bit of a sadistic bastard) only to shower you with every possible reassurance until you are drowning in him him HIM

“why you cryin’, hm? i said i’ll be back, what, you think i’ll just up and leave? never come back?”

“hm, maybe i should do that, make you miss me a little more, yeah?”

but, once he sees you’re really torn up about the thought, he’d gather you in his arms with a small, teasing grin, kissing your tears away and telling you how silly you’re being

“baby, i’d rather get shot in both of my legs than ever think of leaving you”

“you couldn’t get rid of me even if you begged”

“no more cryin’, kay? i hate seeing you cry…unless it’s for different reasons” he’d suggest, earning a weak hit to his arm for being a pervert

he’d snigger, holding you up until your legs wrapped around his waist, “how bout you just come with me then, hm?”

he’s not perfect, far from it, but he tries

he’ll tease, and poke, and push but he always has his moments where he takes your situation deathly serious

like

let someone talk shit about you in anyway, whether it’s about how you need to touch him a lot, or constantly text/call just to hear his voice, or accuse him of this that and the third, just let someone TRY it and he finds out about it

“man, i don’t know how he puts up with them”

“yeah, his s/o clearly has some issues..”

“god forbid he’s gone for more than ten minutes, it’s like they’re some kind of parasite-“

the air in the room shifts DRASTICALLY when they eventually notice hanma standing there, with you at his side looking more than upset

how long he’d been there didn’t matter…the damage was done as soon as those idiots spoke your name

if looks could kill, they’d be playing uno w the devil right about now and losing

hanma looked rather calm. but his eyes told a different story as the gold shined bright with malicious intent

he slowly grinned, tilting his head “oh? don’t stop on our account. keep talkin’. i wanna know what else you think.”

none dared to even blink

you sniffled, embarrassed, ready to bolt out of there, but hanma’s grip on your hand doesn’t falter, merely pulling you closer as he rested his chin on your head

you wiggled for a moment, but hanma wasn’t letting you go anywhere

he called out your name, making you stop as he turned you in his hold to have you look him in the eye

“stay right here. i want you to see just how much i love you. my little parasite.~”

hanma had you stand there and witness what happens whenever someone dares to speak on you and your relationship, solidifying his devotion and loyalty to you and you only

as those guys laid in a pool of their own blood, hanma still took the time to shower you in love and his undivided attention

he’d wipe your tears with bloodstained hands and kiss you hard on the mouth

“you’ll never be too much for me, [_____].”

© 2023-2024 anisespice ッ all rights reserved. likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Not In The Slightest

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.2k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: Diana is your mother's best friend. Cece is your best friend and Diana's daughter. Spencer is Cece's brother and your mortal enemy. You're often compared to him by your mother which makes you hate him. Wait, you do hate him... right?

Square Filled: best friend's sibling for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

You’re not going downstairs. You’re not going to sit at a dinner table and be around people who always compare you to other people. Your mother is working tirelessly to get dinner ready while you’re in your room scrolling on TikTok. Suddenly, someone knocks on your door and enters without waiting for your permission. Your mother never waits for you to let her in. What if you had been changing? What if you were doing something you wanted privacy for?

“Y/N, why aren’t you ready? Diana will be over soon.”

“Do I have to go to this? Can’t I just go hang with Della or something?”

“I don’t want to hear it. You’re going. Get ready.”

She leaves the door open when she leaves and you roll your eyes in annoyance. The only good thing about this dinner is that your best friend Cece is going to be there. She is your best friend while Diana is your mother’s. Maybe you can get away with only talking to Cece without your mother getting on your back about everything.

That’ll only happen if he doesn’t show up.

Him. Cece’s older brother. Dr. Spencer Reid. You can’t stand to be within the same room as him much less five feet from him. Your relationship with him has always been this way; ever since you two were kids. You weren't sure as to why since he has always been nice but the older you got, the more you understood your hatred.

It’s not so much hatred as it’s jealousy and envy. He always has to brag about some smart thing he did, always one-ups you whether he’s aware of it or not, and is just better at everything than you are. Your mother loves to compare you two, more so when you were younger.

Why can’t you be more like Spencer? Why can’t you be smart like him? Spencer is moving quickly through school at an alarming rate. Why can’t you do the same? He got into college at sixteen. What are you doing with your life?

You’re sick and tired of hearing Spencer did this and Spencer did that to the point where your jealousy is mixing with hatred. So, it’s not full-on hatred, just hatred adjacent.

When Diana, Cece, and Spencer get to your house, you make a goal to only talk to Cece with the occasional, “I’m doing good, Mrs. Reid. Thanks.” The entire time, you can feel Spencer’s eyes burning holes in the side of your head because he knows you’re doing everything you can to ignore him.

When dinner is ready, you are seated right across from Spencer so you have no choice but to look directly at him. Knowing he did this on purpose, you decide to angle yourself so that you’re facing Cece instead of him. She’s the only person who understands your dislike for her brother so she’ll do anything to make it as comfortable as she can for you.

Still, after about ten minutes of feeling Spencer’s eyes on you, you turn to Spencer with a glare.

“What the hell are you looking at? Stop staring at me.”

“Y/N!” your mother snaps. “Be nice!”

“Yeah, Y/N, be nice,” Spencer smirks slightly.

You resist the biggest eye roll you’ve ever done. Your mother turns the conversation onto Spencer so that he has to focus on her instead of you. Huh, did one thing right today, Mom.

“So, Spencer, how is your job going? Still at the FBI?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods politely. “I love it. I just got off a case that was pretty brutal but we got the bad guy.”

“I’m glad you’re adjusting well there.”

“I’m so proud of him,” Diana boasts. “I just know those three PhDs come in handy at a job like that.”

“Three?” your mother raises her eyebrows in shock. She knew he had doctorate degrees but didn’t know he held so many. “In what, may I ask?”

“Mathematics, chemistry, and engineering. I also have two bachelor’s degrees in psychology and sociology. I’m working on a third BA in philosophy.”

“So, you’re like a genius?”

Here we go again. You can’t get away with hearing about how Spencer is a genius. Cece can sense your annoyance and places a comforting hand on your leg.

“I wouldn’t call myself that, but yes.”

“Where’d you go to school?”

“Caltech.”

“See, Y/N, you’d do good at a school like that,” your mother jabs.

Just like that, you’re back to resenting Spencer. It’s not his fault he’s so damn smart. It’s your mother’s for not being proud of the many accompaniments you’ve already gotten in life. Sure, you’re not an FBI agent who has a million degrees, but you’re a senior manager at the company you work for who is trying to get a position on the board. She doesn't see that as an accomplishment.

“Don’t listen to her. You’re good at what you do now,” Cece whispers to you.

“Thanks,” you sigh and push around your food.

The conversation doesn’t stop there. It’s all Spencer did this at work and Spencer caught this unsub. Spencer, Spencer, Spencer. You’re getting a headache from all this so you grab your nearly full glass of water and stand up.

“I’m going to get some more water.”

Your mother barely notices you’ve left the table. You walk into the kitchen and set your glass in the sink with a sigh. You pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes, trying to will away the slight headache. The door to the kitchen swings open and you look up to see Spencer with his own full glass of water.

“Great, it’s you,” you scoff.

“Nice to see you, too.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I go where my mom goes. She wanted to have a nice dinner with her best friend. Not my fault she has a daughter who can’t stand me.”

“You’re damn right I can’t stand you. You’re stupid smart, annoying, always have to be the center of attention, and you rub it into everyone’s noses just how many degrees you have and where you went to college. Good for you that you graduated at sixteen. God, I wish my mom could just see how much of a prick her best friend’s son really is.”

You throw insults at Spencer left and right, and he stands there and takes it. You’re only acting out because you’re envious of him. Why can’t you be like him? More importantly, why can’t you have a mom who is proud of you in the way Spencer has?

When Spencer decides he’s had enough of your petty insults, he sets his glass in the sink and grabs both sides of your face.

“Shut up,” he mumbles.

He silences you by kissing you passionately. Damn, is there anything this man isn't good at? He doesn’t have a lot of girlfriends but he knows how to kiss. He slides his tongue into your mouth to explore every inch you’re willing to give him in the short time you two have.

And you let him because deep down, you don’t hate him. Not even in the slightest.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[rainbowdaisy13]

The fucking layers to this is weighing too heavy on my soul

1) MASTERMIND to the nth degree—None of it was accidental when are people gonna truly understand the level she’s at

2) TTPD is a government institution 👀

3) Postie constantly saying “yes ma’am” is the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen

4) I too now want a typewriter

5) “no tats and so happy” is reeeeal interesting it’s too complex for me to comprehend yet

[bunniesandbeheadings]

Anyway, I feel like my friend is probably one of the most brilliant artists alive right now. Like I speculate biographies will be written about her for 500 years or so.

Please understand how surreal it is for me to see this woman every day and she’s saying the equivalent of “I want to get an accounting degree :)” meanwhile she’s producing monumental works of art

I feel like it’s the equivalent of hanging out with Leonardo davicni and he casually says to you, as he finishes the goddamn Mona Lisa, “I want to get an accounting degree”

Ma’am you made this

And it’s not a painting! That is embroidery! That is needlework?! You should just be fling whatever you want forever

[robotstrategy]

Rediscover • Part 1 • 4 - Nero

Previous • Series Masterlist • Part 1 Masterlist • Next

Nero follows one of the scrubbed nurses down the tiled hallways. From what she can tell every medical employee wears yellow, and there’s a lot of them, an absurd amount for a summer camp even. All the yellow scrubs make her antsy, or more specifically her legs, Roland seems to be trembling around like he hasn’t eaten in a long time.

The nurse opens a door into a different room, It looks more homey, like a nice renovated cabin. Nero first notices a Muslim girl dressed in all whites, mostly because she’s the brightest thing in the room. She then turns her head to the sound of elevated shoes hitting the floor. A woman comes towards her, wearing a white pantsuit with a sunshine yellow blouse. She had blonde curly hair that enveloped her face and a modern-looking necklace hanging from her neck. She was beautiful.

“Hello, you must be Nero?” She asks.

“Y-yes ma’am!” She shudders.

The woman lets out the most wholesome little giggle Nero has ever heard. “Oh no need to be afraid of me dear, I might be the camp director, but I’m still a very nice woman,” She ushers to her. “Come, I’ve got something for you.” 

She leads Nero over to the break room and into her office. Nero looks at all the things she can get her eyes on in the room. Binders full of paperwork, frames on the wall with… medical degrees??? and a frame on her desk with a little boy in it.

“Do you have a son?” Nero asks. 

The woman nods as she rummages through one of the desk drawers. “He’s about your age, He’ll be here with us over the two-week stay.” 

She then finally fishes out a small white veil and beaded flower clip, handing the clip to Nero she explains. “I give one to each nursing volunteer I get, I even gave one to Maha today, though I don't exactly think she could wear it.” She then goes around to the back of Nero with the veil. 

“May I take off your mask?”

“Are, are you allowed to?”

“This is private property, you’re allowed to take off your mask while under my care.” 

Nero nods, letting her gently remove the plastic ring holding the mask to her head from her forehead. Then, she replaces it with a veil made out of one-way translucent fabric. Stepping back, the woman puts a fist up to her mouth. “I suppose you’ve become a little eerie now, but I guess that's better than having the word hostile on your face.” 

Nero nods. “It is.” 

“We’ll start training you tonight, for now, you can go hang out with your friends or go sit with Maha and Fatima.” 

Nero excuses herself from the office and heads back to the room she found the Muslim girl in. She sees that only the little girl in white is present.

“Where’s the other one?” Nero asks, getting the girl’s attention.

“Maha? She’s in the bathroom.” The girl tells her.

“So you must be Fatima?”

The girl nods.

“Y’know I understand you have to cover yourself, but why wear white, won’t you ruin your clothes easily out here?” Nero asks. 

“I’ll be inside most of the day, besides, it’s better if I don’t cook outside in black isn’t it?” 

Nero laughs. “I guess you’re right.” 

“I can’t wait to help people like you, it must have been scary losing all those parts.” Fatima’s eyebrows are very upturned so she’s still very expressive despite her nose and mouth being covered. 

“Umm, no, that’s, I’m a Rewind, not an accident victim,” Nero explained.

“Oh.” 

Nero shifts away from her as Maha comes out of the bathroom. “You’re Nero right?” She asks.

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice to meet you, I’ll be taking care of Fatima these two weeks.”

Confused, Nero asks. “Is she your understudy?”

“Well, I am her spiritual adviser and hand-holder nurse.”

“Right…” Nero walks off towards the door, and heads back towards the others, deeply confused by the situation she was just in.

[mylittleredgirl]

finally kept going on my strange new worlds watch! 1x04 memento mori. i don’t have much of value to offer about it at this hour of whenever this spits out of the queue but

i could not love uhura more!!

and her and hemmer bonding… 💙💙💙💙

SEN-SORS i love ethan peck more every time i hear it

m’benga and una are soul friends change my mind

I WAS SO WORRIED ABOUT KYLE i forgot he was a legacy character for a minute 😰

shuttle galileo my beloved

thinking therapy should maybe be non-optional for some of these folks but maybe la’an just did a really great job at her Starfleet Bespoke Trauma Job Interview

i liked that moment between her and pike after the briefing room scene!

and the shuttlecraft mind meld scene was great too

i CRIED hearing michael’s voice 😢

i still quite literally do not understand the “the discovery crew had to be erased from history KGB style” thing either in or out of universe, to the degree that i mentally edited in the uss discovery onto spock and pike’s remembrance day pins

was spock so traumatized by it that he told starfleet command “this is the only logical thing to do [so i never have to talk about this again and legally no one can ask me to]” and they just rolled with it?

AND LIKE THE ENTERPRISE WAS LITERALLY THERE???

i’m sorry i will be annoying about this for the rest of my life it can’t be helped

ok

i’m focusing

everybody was so moist the whole episode from space hot weather and yet the SNW uniform does not have an undershirt option so we can ogle them?? 👎 👎

i looked up the costume designer just now specifically to make this face ☹���

ma’am i love the rest of your work but bernadette croft you have let me down in this specific matter

lastly, whatever the Theater Audio Setting is on my flat tv speakers means i don’t think i experienced the awful sound effect that @sarnakhwritesthings kindly warned me about. that might be another episode? was it the creaking of the bulkheads in the gravity well? the tinnitus is already dialed up from the symptoms™️ so maybe whatever it was is at the exact same pitch 🤷‍♀️

[drewsbuzzcut]

https://www.tumblr.com/drewsbuzzcut/745485471304515584/rileys-family-doesnt-like-brooks-in-the?source=share

little angst blurb on Riley’s family meeting Brooks for the first time?

Warnings: some minor angst (this takes place after McKinley meets Brooks- about 7 months into the relationship)

“Hi, it’s very nice to meet you Mr and Mrs. Reyes. I’m Brooks,” the hockey player introduces himself to his girlfriend’s parents.

He feels nervous under their unsure gaze. He forces his hand not to tremble while shaking their hands.

“It’s nice to meet you as well. We haven’t heard much about you, so we hope we can get to know you tonight,” Riley’s father says.

Brooks slightly frowns in confusion. He expected Riley to tell them all about him, the way he did to his own parents.

“Well, Riley has told me all about you guys and how caring and helpful you are,” Brooks decides to say.

“That’s right, son. We’re very caring of our daughter and granddaughter. We only want the best for them. So tell me, where are you from? Where do you work?”

“My mother had me in Alaska, but I was raised in Boston. I don’t work, yet. I’m a senior in college, playing hockey so that I can be prepared to join the Bruins after graduation,” the young man says truthfully. He has nothing to hide.

Brooks watches both Riley’s mom and dad practically jump back in surprise.

“College? Hockey?” Riley’s mom questions.

“Yes ma’am. I was drafted a little bit ago, but I wanted to finish my degree,” Brooks explains, not understanding their concern.

“With all due respect, my daughter is 26 with her own child. She needs stability and someone who’s always by her side. I’m guessing you’re in your early twenties and I know hockey keeps their players away for long periods at a time,” Mr. Reyes points out.

“Correct, I’m 23, but I’m well beyond stable. Financially and mentally.”

“What would a 23 year old want with someone in a different stage of life, someone who has a child?”

“What’s going on?” Riley comes back from the restroom with McKinley’s hand in hers.

“You didn’t tell us your friend is barely in his twenties and still in college.”

“Mom, he’s my boyfriend and I didn’t say anything because it doesn’t matter. Age doesn’t matter, Brooks is good to me, to us,” Riley defends her boyfriend, confused by her parent’s uproar. They should be happy for her.

“It does matter. McKinley already lost her father, she doesn’t need men coming and walking out of her life with ease. He’s also a hockey player. How is that beneficial for you?”

“Just because I’m a hockey player, doesn’t mean I won’t be there for Riley and McKinley. I love them and I want to spend the rest of my life with them.”

Riley looks at Brooks in shock, never having heard him say the “L” word.

“I love Brooks. He’s good for us. He’s brought so much happiness into our lives. Why can’t you be happy for us? Look, I trust him. I wouldn’t introduce him to my daughter if I didn’t,” Riley pleads, just wanting her parents to understand.

“We just don’t think it’s a good decision. I’m sorry, but that’s our opinion.” Mr and Mrs. Reyes stand firm on their words.

“Then there’s no point in this dinner. I’m not wasting anyone’s time,” Riley mutters dejectedly, pulling Brooks towards the door.

“No, wait. It’s fine. We can stay for dinner. We should stay for dinner,” he says, eyes flitting from McKinley to Riley’s parents.

He knows McKinley is excited to see her grandparents and he won’t be the one to ruin that excitement.

“No, Brooks. No. They obviously don’t agree with us being together, so I’m not going to waste time somewhere you aren’t even wanted,” the girl puts her foot down.

Brooks lets out a sigh and allows her to direct him out the door. So much for expanding his family.

[curiousmagpie]

I, personally, am a big fan of the idea that Danny is actually really smart, it’s just that school doesn’t work with him. Whether that be because of constant ghost attacks, him playing down his intelligence, ADHD problems, etc., it doesn’t matter.

I like most stuff where Danny is a tech genius, or where he’s essentially a ghost culture expert with several notebooks on the topic, or a historian nerd, or *something*. I like all of those, but there’s one that I really, really love that I don’t think I’ve properly seen anywhere. It’s hard to explain so I’m gonna give an example that’s been stuck in my head.

One night, a mere few weeks after the accident, Danny’s laying in his bed, still debating if he’s human or not anymore, still trying to figure out exactly what’s happened to him. Due to the pestering of Sam and Tucker, he knows his heart rate is in the 30’s, well below what’s needed for adequate oxygen perfusion, his internal temperature is 33 degrees Celsius, where he should be suffering from hypothermia, although his skin appears to be warmer for some reason. Point is, Danny is wondering how deep his changes go, and he decides to test his DNA. Additionally, Danny being a truly brilliant dumbass, decides to test his parents DNA as well, doing a basic paternity test, which he does get:

Danny scowled as he looked at the clock above the doorway. He should be able to get the necessary equipment and materials from the lab, but there was one thing missing if he wanted this to be a proper test, which was technically in the lab but would be out of reach for the next two days if he didn’t get it now.

Bouncing on his toes, shaking himself a bit, Danny took a deep breath as he shoved his nervousness down and put on his best, ‘just doing my job ma’am’ face.

“Hey mom?” Danny called down the stairs, taking deliberately heavy footsteps.

“Yes honey?” Maddie said, voice echoing slightly up the stairwell. This was it, this was the moment of truth! Please don’t question it.

“Can I have a few vials of yours and dads blood?” He said, now standing at the doorway to the lab.

Maddie paused in her soldering work, head pulling up and staring straight forward for a moment. And then her head turned towards Danny with the most bewildered face he had ever seen on her.

“What?” Shit, she questioned it! Quick, random bullshit go!

“Uhhh, school said they wanted us to do a paternit- I mean uh, an ancestral dna test? You know, to introduce us to how evolution works?” That’s the best you can come up with?! Does that even make sense? Note to self, figure out if that makes sense.

While Danny was distracting himself with questions on if his made up excuse even fit together with his syllabus, or if DNA tests were even a good way to demonstrate evolution, Maddie thankfully understood exactly what he was talking about (She understood nothing).

“Oh, why didn’t you say so honey!” She said, standing up and spinning to face her son, “Why, I remember when I first started wondering if I was adopted!”

What.

“Oh, I tired everything to get blood samples directly from the source,” She said, giving Danny a hug, “They could have been putting samples of my real parent’s hair in the hairbrushes after all. Jazz went through a similar phase too, though she did look oddly disappointed about the results.” She was silent for a moment after that, tilting her head and letting Danny stew in baffled thought.

After two seconds too much of introspection, Maddie gave her son one last squeeze and peck on the cheek, before she sprang up and over to a strangely bare part of lab wall.

Pressing a button and flicking a hidden switch or two, a number panel came out of the wall. Maddie called out over her shoulder as quickly typed in a ridiculously number of digits in.

“Now, which sample do you want?” She said, snapping Danny out of his trance as a seam appeared and frigid air hissed out between the gaps.

“What?” Danny said, still processing, not quite understanding what she meant by that.

“Which blood sample do you want? For that ‘school project’ of yours.” She said, fingers catching on a ridge and pulling it open to reveal two levels full of vials, one labeled Maddie and the other labeled Jack, with dates and times on each vial.

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

Okay, I might have gotten carried away there. Man, I really need to write more often, that was coming so easily!

Anyway, with the blood samples, he waits until his parents and Jazz are gone and collects own blood sample, following all the correct procedures that he searched up, although ignoring the ones that don’t apply to him because he’s not taking someone else’s blood. He also searched up how DNA tests work and decided to do some extra testing, such as centrifuges, which come up weird due to parts of his blood going intangible which results in his plasma not fully separating, no matter how much he spins it.

Anyway, using the materials from the lab and a basic understanding of how a dna test works, he creates a homemade dna tester.

(You can skip this if you want, it’s unimportant but I’m just going over how electrophoresis dna testers work. (Which is what Danny is doing here))

Essentially, everyone gets half their chromosomes from their parents. There’s stuff that alter the chromosomes you get, like chromosomes crossing over and exchanging bits and pieces, but that isn’t to important here. The basic is, you have half your moms dna, and half your dads dna. Now, something important to note, is that chromosomes all come in varying sizes, you can see this just by searching it up, an X chromosome is much bigger than a Y chromosome, which is on the 23rd chromosomal pair, and say, chromosome pair 1 can be bigger than chromosome pair 9. There’s a lot of variation however, I’d recommend looking at an image for an idea what I’m talking about. Regardless, this size thing is important for how paternity tests work. Essentially, they get a sample that has dna in it, remove everything except that dna and a solution of water or something (i dunno) to keep it in, and then they get this gel thing and put the sample on one side of it and do something called electrophoresis, where an electric current goes through the stuff, and the dna move towards the positive electrode. Basically, this gel has a sort of fibre mesh through out it, and smaller dna chromosomes move towards the positive electrode faster than the larger ones. This means that they get separated really effectively, forming obvious lines. In two tests done this way on different people, a few lines will get the same distance in the same amount of time, but not all of them. Now, if those two people had a child, and then had the same test done, then the results would look like the child just saw the lines of the previous two and just picked and choose randomly, because all of Danny’s results should match up with either his moms, or his dads.

(Dna test explanation ends here, you can relax)

Now, while danny does this, Maddie’s and Jack’s fin normal, and then he does his own. And the previously mentioned problem occurs, in that some of his dna goes intangible, which ruins his results and makes a complete mess of the entire thing, and now he knows the accident has changed his very dna (which we know from the tv show intro!), and that his very essence has been changed. Now he’s left wondering if he can even be regarded as human or ghost anymore, because ghosts don’t have dna, but he does? And his dna is different now, would it even match the normal human genome? Is he less human than monkeys are now? He needs to do more tests to find out…

Alright, now we’re past the example. What was the thing that stuck out about Danny here? Was it that he doesn’t plan the most basic of shit out? Was it his parents keeping preserved samples of their own blood? Or was it the fact that Danny researched, figured out how to, and then built his own DNA tester from scratch? I’d say all three options personally, but the topic of this one is the last option.

Danny was being crazy smart there. He had a problem, figured a solution, went about getting the materials in the stupidest possible way, absorbed knowledge, did separate tests to satisfy his curiosity, and solved his problem. Although now he has new ones.

I might be able to do something similar if I had, like, three weeks to do it or something, but Danny was easily able to think of equivalents that he could find in the lab, or at least things that are close enough that he could substitute them, and he did it quickly and easily, in like, a day. That’s really really smart to me.

All together, this, this right here, is the kind of intelligence I really like being written about. Intelligence that is shown, not told.

Wow this got away from me. Whoops.

[thekristen999]

WIP Wednesday

 No one tagged me, but I thought I’d share something this week from the Mafia AU.  :)

...

"Buck’s made it his mission to restructure all of his family business into legitimate operations—including ending certain arrangements,” Chim explained.

Buck picked a bottle of water from the table and aggressively unscrewed the cap. “My father would pay certain brokers to inflate the price of stocks by buying large amounts under hundreds of accounts. And once the price was high enough, we’d sell it.”

It made his family tens of thousands of dollars off the backs of small families who went bankrupt when the price nose-dived. It was one thing to rip off the rich like himself, but everyone else….

"So, you stopped paying the brokers to inflate the stock price," Eddie summarized. "I’ll need their names."

Hen looked from Buck to Chim to Eddie. Buck could see the wheels in her head turning, because to be fair, Eddie was security. Hired muscle. Which usually meant no brains at all. The fact that he was asking probing questions and taking notes seemed outside the scope of the job.

Then again. Everything about Eddie had been outside the box.

Hen was even-keeled, and when she spoke, it was out of curiosity. "Do you have any finance degrees, Eddie?"

Eddie looked up from his notepad. "No, ma’am," he said, flipping the page. "What’s the partner’s name?"

"These are very complex financial operations," Hen said instead.

"I don’t need to know math to understand motivation and means."

Her eyes twinkled, admonished. "I guess you don’t. And his name is Adam Lutiz."

Buck dug his fingers into his knee to maintain a resemblance of control when all he wanted to do was to take Eddie right then and there on top of the conference table. The man dripped with confidence; an ego smooth as silk. Buck bit his lip at the thought of removing his suit one button at a time.

Pen posed on the notepad, Eddie looked at Buck out of the corner of his eye, the ends of his lips curving ever slightly. Almost as if he was reading his dirty thoughts before giving Hen his undivided attention.

....

Tagging @spotsandsocks @shortsighted-owl @the-likesofus @fleurdebeton @renecdote @mellaithwen @megsvstheworld @andavs @alyxmastershipper @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @spaceprincessem and whomever else wants to play. :)

[paragonrobits]

when I see people saying sometihng like ‘Katara chose Aang over Zuko’ it always feels like they are projecting real hard or have assimilated fandom assumptions into their understanding of the show because Zuko was never a valid option for her and there’s literally no reason to assume that was

they barely speak across the entirety of the show

their dynamic is, until Zuko joins the group, entirely limited to Zuko trying to capture the Avatar and Katara fighting him to stop the last hope of the world from being crushed under Fire Nation boots. The sole exception to this is when they bond over shared trauma and a moment of humanity that is not romantic in nature, and romance would have cheapened it (And that people regard that brief moment as entirely romantic is, I think, a sign of overvaluing romance in general)

after that, she mostly snipes at him until the events of Southern Raiders, and then they still don’t talk that much. Zuko and Toph talk more to each other than Katara and Zuko do

Zuko spends this entire time mooning over Mai, to a degree that its genuinely startling when he drops the stoicism to sigh over her. He shows no sign of being interested in Katara or anyone else at all and the moment Mai is back, he zooms into her arms with a ‘YES MA’AM’ at her warning him not to break up with her again

the only character who assumes otherwise are the Ember Island players (who are explicitly writing a propaganda play straight out of real life imperialist propaganda pieces, with elements of them making fun of common cliches in ATLA fanfic fandom at the time) and June, who doesn’t even know them at all beyond a surface level.

Zuko was never a romantic option. you don’t choose cheese over bread when you never even considered having bread at all. That person at the other table is the one having bread, talk to them about the bread. also in this metaphor Mai is the one with bread.

the thing about it is just that people read in a VERY common relationship vibe between them (Katara as the Good Girl people project onto, and Zuko as the cool and tough nonsense antihero) and aggressively conclude that’s the natural progression of the show despite it never having been hinted at or supported in any way.

Look people this show is not even slightly subtle about its shipping and if you insist that Aang/Katara wasn’t foreshadowed or that Mai and Zuko weren’t set up enough, that’s on you for refusing to pay attention.

[jomiddlemarch]

bright young women

“So, as you and I are hazelnuts and rye, managing the treaty shan’t be any great shakes, no matter what Kristoff says about the need for unanimity among the thanes, that’s just his troll heritage talking, they can be so dreadfully dark, you can’t imagine,” Anna, the Queen of Arendelle and wife to Kristoff, Lord Tyholmen, said in a cheerfully airy fashion that suggested Eric would completely understand her and be in total agreement. Ariel was halfway across the banqueting room, quite engrossed in her own conversation with the Queen’s sister, and thus couldn’t possibly help Eric out of what might become an international debacle.

“Ma’am?”

It was best to be careful, the diplomatic relationship between his home and Arendelle quite new and therefore tenuous, the chance of saying or doing something the northerners would find offensive elevated, despite the Queen’s bright smile and almost casual posture; she was dressed very formally, her chestnut hair elaborately braided and bejeweled. It would be rude to tell her directly that she wasn’t making any sense whatsoever.

“I haven’t said something wrong, have I? I only thought we, you and I, we might simplify the situation, between us if you will, and then we all might enjoy the festivities more and you must try the chocolate laskiaispulla, they usually have vanilla cream but the pastry chef does indulge me,” she said, the words all in a rush and a little furrow appearing on her brow. Ariel had a similar expression when confronted with aspects of human culture she found baffling, though not all were as delightful to explain to her as garters and the difference between the actual silk ribbons and the courtly Order thereof.

“I’m afraid I am not exactly following you, ma’am,” he said. The furrow grew deeper. Her tall and somewhat burly husband glanced over at them as if he had a preternatural sense that his wife was in some distress and he was deciding whether he needed to intervene. Eric inclined his head in a noticeable show of deference and the other man turned back to his own conversation with Grimsby and a senior trade official Eric always referred to as Minister Moneybags when recounting dull meetings with Ariel.

“Won’t you call me Anna? Ma’am is so dreadfully solemn. Fusty. It makes me feel older than the hills and twice as crotchety.”

Eric refrained from asking how hills could ever be crotchety, as he was beginning to get a sense of her rather exuberant self-expression. His own mother would have frowned such frivolity out of him if he’d shown any sign of it as a child.

“You are the queen,” Eric said. “It would be improper for me to be so discourteous—”

“But surely it’s not discourteous if I’ve invited you to call me Anna,” she countered quickly. “Surely it’s more discourteous to refuse to call the reigning monarch of the country with whom you are trying to broker a comprehensive trade and cultural exchange treaty the name she insists upon. Especially she is a queen and you are still the heir-apparent to your monarch.”

“If you insist,” he said, nodding slightly. “Anna, I cannot say I’ve understood a word you’ve said starting with hazelnuts.”

“Hazelnuts and rye? Ginger biscuit and mead?” Anna said.

“Is this part of the evening’s menu?” Eric hazarded. It wouldn’t make her earlier remark make any more sense but they were miles away from that.

“Yin and yang? That’s from Cathay, though, you mayn’t have come across them yet in your travels,” Anna said.

“I am familiar with the empire,” Eric said. “But not the phrase.”

“It means opposite forces that are bound together in balance,” Anna explained. “That’s you and me.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You don’t beg, you’re a prince,” Anna corrected. “But I am making a hash of this, aren’t I?”

“I will decline to comment,” Eric said and smiled.

“You said that with such a perfect degree of regal aplomb, it’s really impressive. You’ve been very well-trained to be a king, I can tell,” Anna said. “Me, not so much, I’m afraid. But that’s what I’m talking about, how we’re hazelnuts and rye— you lost your parents in a shipwreck and so did I, except losing yours made you a king where you never would have been one and losing mine just happened earlier than anyone would have expected and I wouldn’t have been the queen except for Elsa turning out to be otherwise disposed.”

Otherwise disposed was a curious way of summarizing the discovery that her sister and queen was in large part or entirely a supernatural being who held the ethereal powers governing this region of the world in check, if Eric had understood General Mattias properly, but it was frankly not the most intriguing comment she had made.

“I’m not sure how that makes us opposite forces in balance,” Eric said.

“Well, we’ve both suffered and ascended because of shipwrecks, so there’s that,” Anna said. She paused and cocked her head to one side, then tapped one beringed finger on her lips. If they both weren’t happily married, she would have set matchmakers talking across the globe, but as it was, she only appeared perplexed, much the way Ariel was when confronted with a draisienne. “You may be right that the parallel doesn’t entirely hold, but you know what it is to lose the people you love most to forces you couldn’t begin to hold accountable. To be left behind and then left to carry on and lead everyone, when maybe you just wanted to do something else entirely. Maybe you wanted to become a cheesemonger and I could have become a dentist.”

“I can assure you, I never longed to become a cheesemonger,” Eric said. He’d never thought to have such a conversation, touching upon the deepest grief of his life while also entertaining an alternate future where he’d had a dairy and was an expert on Cheddar and Nagelkass.

“It’s fun to say though, isn’t it? Cheesemonger. Fishmonger too, but cheese is more fun than fish and no one gets hurt, which is probably more relevant to you now given Lady Ariel’s childhood friends,” Anna said. She swirled the wine around in the glass she held. She’d hardly had a sip the whole time; nothing she said could be chalked up to tipsiness.

“If you’ll forgive me, this is the most peculiar conversation, Anna,” Eric said.

She grinned at him then and he suspected that if she hadn’t been holding the wineglass, she would have clapped her hands most gleefully.

“That’s what I mean! That’s why at the end of the day, we’ll let all the diplomats and stuff old thanes and avocats fuss with the documents, but we’ll sign them and it’ll be a bright tomorrow for our two nations and you can tell me how you’ve coped with the fact that your first parents died in a storm that Lady Ariel’s father had to be responsible for and you got adopted by a king and queen instead of rock trolls like Kristoff did or just an ordinary couple and also whether breadfruit is more like bread or fruit and whether it’s better than both and also chocolate,” Anna said.

“Also chocolate?” He saw how she centered the most important and painful remark within giddy charm, allowing him to hear her while giving him an easy question to answer. Giving him time to mull over what she’d said and come back to it how and when and if he would. It would not do to underestimate her leadership, nor the value of her friendship.

“Whether breadfruit is better than bread, fruit, and chocolate. I mean it’s impossible that it’s better than chocolate but I need to keep an open mind and Kristoff will scold me if I don’t, well, he won’t scold but he’ll give me this serious look he has and I’ll feel all wizened, like a turnip forgotten in the root cellar,” Anna said. Eric thought briefly of what his mother Queen Selina was like in her private sitting room and what little he knew of Ariel’s sisters and was confident that there was no reigning queen like Anna I of Arendelle. And that was without considering the rock troll relations, though it seems she’d married into them and he grasped how little control or influence one could have over or with one’s in-laws.

“Chocolate is better than breadfruit, let’s begin there,” Eric said. “I hope we can both sign the treaty, that they don’t all muck it up, because I’d very much like to be in league with you, Queen Anna, well before I become King Eric Janus II.”

“Eric Janus II?” Now, she scrunched up her face as if he’d told her turnips and breadfruit would replace all the world’s supply of chocolate.

“Yes, I know,” Eric said. “It’s a lot. I have to add Klaas and Amaury and Bohemond when I ascend the throne.”

“That’s a mouthful,” Anna said. “Unless it sounds better in your native language—”

“It doesn’t,” Eric said.

“I’ll call you nothing but Eric then, if you prefer it,” Anna offered as her broad-shouldered, blond husband joined them, giving her a glance Eric would not have recognized before his own marriage, one that questioned and chided in equal measure, one Ariel was wont to give him when he cautioned her about swimming alongside their ship or staying up late to read to what she said was only the end of the chapter.

“You needn’t glare, Kristoff, the Prince and I understand each other perfectly,” Anna said. “Your precious treaty isn’t in any danger. Quite the contrary—”

“It’s not my precious treaty and I wasn’t glaring,” he said. He seemed ill-at-ease in his uniform in the grandly appointed room as he hadn’t when they’d gone out for a drive into the royal parkland and woods, his fine silks and velvets traded for a well-worn leather coat and a dusty pair of boots, a red kerchief knotted at his throat. “The ambassadors and the diplomatic corps from both nations have been working to deliver an agreement mutually beneficial, with particular attention to the ramifications of an allegiance and the power balance of the Silver Crescent.”

“I beg you not to explain about the judicial reforms going before the council and the need for a winter by-election. I positively beg you,” Anna said, taking her husband’s hand, and then smiling at Eric. “Kristoff, Lord Tyholmen that is, has very strong convictions about necessary modifications to the monarchy and the guildsmen but there’s a time and place and the dancing is about to begin.”

“Then, if you would grant me the great favor, I would be honored to open the first waltz with you, Anna,” Eric said, bowing smartly and extending his hand.

“Drat, I was supposed to ask you and not sidle around it. I wasn’t purposefully sidling,” Anna said. Kristoff smiled and lifted her hand to his lips to kiss her knuckles. “Kristoff, you know we’ll have the lihkadus and the last waltz—”

“I’m not upset, Anna,” Kristoff said. “And I don’t think Prince Eric is either, even if he isn’t dancing with Lady Ariel at the moment.”

“Lord Tyholmen is correct,” Eric said. “I understood—you and I, Anna, we’re bake and shark, ackee and saltfish, aren’t we?”

“I suppose we must be,” Anna said. “Though I’ll need a complete explanation and that will include whether I am the bake or the shark. I hardly know which is more daunting! Perhaps I should ask Lady Ariel—"

“It’s always the shark, Anna,” Kristoff said, winking at Eric. “You don’t need to be a mermaid to know that.”

[ysabelmystic]

Nursing orientation day 2: we are running behind schedule because some people are struggling with 6th grade math.

“Teehee I’m bad at math” ma’am you had to have a bachelors degree to get into this program don’t tell me you made it through college and still don’t understand beyond the shadow of a doubt how many 2mg tablets to give a hypothetical patient with a 4mg prescription. Is this a joke to you? Does it violate some law of the deep American south for you to understand basic conversions?

I’m going to scream. I’m drowning in north face jackets and yeti canteen bottles covered in flowers and desaturated rainbows with purple eliminated just to ensure that it’s properly straight. I’m sitting next to a 25yo with rosé all day stickers on a pastel pink keyboard. The girl behind me is talking about her church. The one on front of me has the gaudiest wedding ring I’ve ever seen in public. This is suffocation. I am dying. When this is all over I am moving to California or Oregon where at least I can smoke some fucking weed to cope with the aggressive push to conform and the knowledge that these people haven’t changed since high school and I’ve only gotten stranger and gayer and more and more enraged.

Fuck.

[goatsandgangsters]

at 11 pm my radiators hadn’t come on since 5 pm and it’s 59f/15c degrees in my apartment and I’m like, yknow, understandably a little concerned that something is wrong with the heat when we’re in a city-wide polar vortex cold emergency and the “feels like” temp outside is currently -28f/-33c and it’s going to keep getting colder 

so I called the building maintenance company. and she was like “well no one else in your building has complained. and there’s nothing the maintenance guy can do for one unit so just keep an eye on it and make sure your windows are shut tight” 

like. ma’am. I live in a small studio apartment with one exterior wall that is literally 6 windows on it. 6 windows which were built in 1925 and have never been replaced. a wall of 6 windows with wooden frames and no insulation. 

I think perhaps, if I have just told you that my heat has not come on in 6 hours when it is -24 outside and we’re in a cold emergency that closed schools today and my apartment is currently below the legal limit of heat that is supposed to be provided to tenants. 

you’d think. you’d think you might say something more helpful than “well tonight’s the coldest it’s gonna get and then it’ll be a little warmer tomorrow.” (it won’t. the high for tomorrow is 17/-8.) 

[compo67]

Compare & Contrast: House of Gold (2014)

My writing from 2014 is so different from my writing in 2023! Here's a chapter of "House of Gold" from "before" and "after."

2014

“Don’t kiss me, you’ll get sick.”

“I’ll risk getting sick.”

“No.”

“Jen, it’s okay.”

“Fine. A small one.”

Jared leaves Smithville on a rainy Tuesday morning. Jensen left the night before by himself in a car that came from the airport to pick him up. He’s made the set call for today despite being sick and running a hundred and one degree fever. They’ve made set accommodations for the past two days just for him and he can’t miss another call. He plans to use his illness as an advantage on set but Jared doesn’t quite understand how. Either way, they separate for twelve hours. Jared pulled out his carryon bag an hour after Jensen left and started packing.

“Long as you don’t mind havin’ a guest around,” he could hear John saying to his momma, polite and appreciative. “Promise you won’t notice I’m here, ma’am.”

“I wouldn’t mind if I did notice you were here,” his momma replied. “And don’t call me ma’am. Makes me feel old. I’m not that old, right Jay? Just turned thirty last year.”

“For the sixth time,” Jared snapped out with a small laugh.

She came over and he expected a swat to the head and a lecture on how when she was a girl she had half the men in this town kneeling at her front door, begging to let them take her out here or treat her to this. She likes to go on sometimes about how it’s her good looks Jensen best be damn grateful for.

Instead, she hugged him.

She felt so small.

Of course, she read his mind, and it earned him a small cuff to the ear. “Don’t,” she muttered, looking at him directly. “Don’t you dare do that, Jared Tristan Padalecki. Don’t you treat me like I’m fine china. I was never that kind of girl. Never been that kind of woman.” And that’s true. He knew it. She broke each arm at least once climbing trees as a girl. Broke her right leg when she was sixteen and riding an admirer’s motorcycle alone and took a sharp turn too fast. That motorcycle is still in their garage.

“John’s got a gun,” she whispered to him, a glint of excitement in her eye. “Gonna take him shooting.”

The plan is for John to stay in Smithville for a week while Jared joins Jensen on set in Vancouver. It was all Jensen and Mr. Mayhue’s idea. Right before Jensen left he and Jared met with Mr. Mayhue at the store. His employer refused to accept any money for the repairs or business it cost him. The building, they were assured, was insured and it gave Mr. Mayhue’s brother-in-law work for once. But he tipped his ten gallon hat and leaned back in his chair and admitted that he was concerned for Jared’s safety. In his experience, people bent on doing petty things like this didn’t stop until they got the reaction they wanted. It was Mr. Mayhue’s fear that vandalism would lead to something else—and his position in the community did not warrant any more interest from the police. They took pictures, poked around, and did nothing else. A week off is not a problem in comparison. They can manage.

Jared turns this all around in his head on the plane ride from Austin to Vancouver.

A coach ticket would have been fine, he thinks, looking around and sighing. He’s looked up ticket prices for first class flights on this route. His shoulders bristle and he tries to shake off his worry. Stop it. Jensen does these things because he cares. It’s not to make Jared feel less than capable or childish. Sometimes you need to accept help, Jared tells himself. It just seems excessive when there are people waiting on him left and right. He isn’t used to this.

When he lands at four in the afternoon he can’t get his ears to pop. Pulling at his left ear lobe, he sends a text to his momma informing him that he made it just fine. When that’s done he digs around his pockets for gum or something to chew on. This never happened on the flights from Austin to Miami or Dallas to Austin. Then again, those were all at maximum three hour flights and this was six. His ass has fallen asleep and his joints hurt from sitting down so long. Even with more foot room in first class his knees still hurt from crouching. Walking out of the terminal with his carryon, still trying to get his ears to pop, he wonders how the hell he has arrived. Customs was a breeze since he only has one piece of luggage on him and Jensen called ahead. He comes in through this airport so often that the airport staff knows him well. One of the security guards handed back Jared’s passport with a sincere, “Welcome to Canada, sir.”

By the looks of the airport, it doesn’t immediately feel like he’s in another country. Another state, yes. There are no ten gallon hats or belt buckles on display; he doesn’t hear y’all or right quick or any kind of drawl. He follows signs for the above ground exit and prays not to get lost in the airport. Please let him have some kind of sense to find the arrivals pick up, where Jensen said he’d have a car sent.

Ten minutes later and Jared is completely turned around and lost. The layout to this airport isn’t anything like the few he’s been in. Just as he’s beginning to panic, his phone goes off. He expects it to be his momma.

“You’re adorable when you have no clue what you’re doin’.” A Texan drawl. Jared feels the knot in his chest loosen. He can’t punch out a witty response and Jensen gets it. “Look to your left, sweetheart.”

This is bad.

Every time Jared panics he’s going to expect Jensen there to help him out of whatever mess he’s in.

He doesn’t care if it’s cliché or silly or totally predictable. His carryon wheels squeaking, he runs the short distance between him and the man in sunglasses and a baseball hat.

The first thing that’s said doesn’t come from Jared.

“God, I missed you.”

He is greatly loved.

---

2023

Jensen leaves at night, by himself, in a car that came to pick him up and take him to the airport.

He just barely makes the set call for today, despite being sick and running a one-hundred and one degree fever. He plans to use his illness as a way to get even more into character. Or something like that. Before he left, Jared insisted on a kiss.

“Don’t kiss me, you’ll get sick.”

“I’ll risk getting sick, Jen.”

“No, I won't put you in harm's way, Jay. Absolutely not.”

“Good lord, it’s okay.”

“Fine. A small one.”

Jared is set to leave Smithville the next day--a rainy Tuesday morning.

John and Sherri talk in the kitchen as Jared gets ready.

"Just as long as you don't mind having a guest around," John says to Sherri, his tone polite and appreciative. "I promise you won't notice I'm here, ma'am."

“I wouldn’t mind if I did notice you were here,” Sherri replies. “And don’t call me ma’am. Makes me feel old. I’m not that old, right Jay? Just turned thirty last year.”

“For the sixth time,” Jared quips.

She walks over and he expects a swat to the head and a lecture on how when she was a girl she had half the men in this town kneeling at her front door, begging to let them take her out here or treat her to this. She likes to go on sometimes about how it’s her good looks Jensen best be damn grateful for.

Instead, she hugs him.

She feels so small.

Of course, she read his mind, and it earns him a small cuff to the ear.

“Don’t,” she mutters, looking at him directly. “Don’t you dare do that, Jared Tristan. Don’t you treat me like I’m fine china. I was never that kind of girl. Never been that kind of woman.”

And that’s true. He knew it. She broke each arm at least once climbing trees as a girl. Broke her right leg when she was sixteen and riding an admirer’s motorcycle alone and took a sharp turn too fast. That motorcycle is still in their garage.

“John’s got a gun,” she whispers to him, a glint of excitement in her eye. “Gonna take him to the shooting range.”

The plan is for John to stay in Smithville for a week while Jared joins Jensen on set in Vancouver. It was all Jensen and Mr. Mayhue’s idea. Right before Jensen left, he and Jared met with Mr. Mayhue at the store. Mr. Mayhue refused to accept any money for the repairs or business it cost him. The building is insured and it gave Mr. Mayhue’s brother-in-law work for once. But Mr. Mayhue tipped his ten gallon hat, leaned back in his chair, and admitted that he was concerned for Jared’s safety.

In his experience, people bent on doing petty things like this don’t stop until they get the reaction they want. It was Mr. Mayhue’s fear that vandalism would lead to something else. He gave Jared two weeks off. The store will manage.

Jared turns this all around in his head on the drive from Smithville to Austin. John drives, with Sherri up front and Jared in the backseat with his carry-on. He hugs his mother extra tight when he leaves them curbside.

He checks in without a problem, though it is his very first time flying anywhere alone and his first time using his passport. When he boards, he can't believe how spacious it is in first class. A coach ticket would have been fine, he thinks, looking around and shaking his head. Of course, Jensen paid for the ticket and refused to think of Jared flying in coach. Jared has looked up ticket prices for first class flights on this route before. His shoulders bristle and he tries to shake off his fretting. Stop it. Jensen does these things because he cares. It’s not to make Jared feel less than capable or childish. Sometimes you need to accept help, Jared tells himself.

It just seems excessive when there are people waiting on him left and right. He isn’t used to this.

When he lands at four in the afternoon, he can’t get his ears to pop. Pulling at his left ear lobe, he sends a text to his momma informing him that he made it just fine. When that’s done, he digs around his pockets for gum. His ass has fallen asleep and his joints hurt from sitting down for six hours. Even with more foot room in first class his knees still hurt from crouching. Walking out of the terminal with his carry-on, still trying to get his ears to pop, he wonders how the hell he has arrived. Customs is a breeze since he only has one piece of luggage on him.

One of the security guards hands back Jared’s passport and says, “Welcome to Canada, sir.”

By the looks of the airport, it doesn’t immediately feel like he’s in another country. Another state, yes. There are no ten gallon hats or belt buckles on display. He doesn’t hear "y’all" or "right quick" or any kind of drawl. It's almost unnerving. He follows signs for the above ground exit and prays to the universe that he doesn't get lost in the airport. Please let him have some kind of sense to find the arrivals pick up, where Jensen said he’d have a car ready and waiting for him.

Ten minutes later, Jared is completely turned around and lost. The layout to this airport isn’t anything like the few he’s been in. Just as he’s beginning to panic, his phone goes off. He expects it to be his momma.

“You’re adorable when you have no clue what you’re doin’.” A Texan drawl. Jared feels the knot in his chest loosen up. He can’t punch out a witty response and Jensen gets it. “Look to your left, sweetheart.”

This is bad.

Every time Jared panics he’s going to expect Jensen there to help him out of whatever mess he’s in.

He doesn’t care if it’s cliché or silly or totally predictable. With his carry-on wheels squeaking, he runs the short distance between him and the man in sunglasses and a baseball hat.

“God, I missed you,” Jensen says, flipping his sunglasses up to give Jared a proper kiss. "C'mere."

Jared knows he is greatly loved.