#I will simply be Sammy lane forever

[ascendingtostardust]

Watching a josh tiktok while making josh keychains and wearing my josh shirt…..what is the universe saying to me rn

[gatheringbones]

[“To Larraine, putting something on layaway was saving. “I can’t leave money in my bank,” she said. “When you’re on SSI you can only have so much money in the bank, and it’s got to be less than a thousand dollars. Because if it’s more…they cut your payments until that money is spent.”

Larraine was talking about SSI’s “resource limit.” She was allowed to have up to $2,000 in the bank, not $1,000 like she thought, but anything more than that could result in her losing benefits. Larraine saw this rule as a clear disincentive to save. “If I can’t keep my money in the bank, then I might as well buy something worthwhile…because I know once I pay on it, it’s mine, and no one can take it from me, just like my jewelry.” Well, no one except Eagle Moving.

Before her eviction, Beaker had asked Larraine why she didn’t just sell her jewelry and pay Tobin. “Of course I’m not going to do that,” she said. “I worked way too hard for me to sell my jewelry….I’m not going to sell my life savings because I’m homeless or I got evicted.” It wasn’t like she had just stumbled into a pit and would soon climb out. Larraine imagined she would be poor and rent-strapped forever. And if that was to be her lot in life, she might as well have a little jewelry to show for it.

(…) When Larraine spent money or food stamps on nonessentials, it baffled and frustrated people around her, including her niece, Sammy, Susan and Lane’s daughter. “My aunt Larraine is one of those people who will see some two-hundred-dollar beauty cream that removes her wrinkles and will go and buy it instead of paying the rent,” said Sammy, a hairstylist with her own shop in Cudahy. “I don’t know why she just doesn’t stick to a budget.” Pastor Daryl felt the same way, saying that Larraine was careless with her money because she operated under a “poverty mentality.”

To Sammy, Pastor Daryl, and others, Larraine was poor because she threw money away. But the reverse was more true. Larraine threw money away because she was poor.

Before she was evicted, Larraine had $164 left over after paying the rent. She could have put some of that away, shunning cable and Walmart. If Larraine somehow managed to save $50 a month, nearly one-third of her after-rent income, by the end of the year she would have $600 to show for it—enough to cover a single month’s rent. And that would have come at considerable sacrifice, since she would sometimes have had to forgo things like hot water and clothes. Larraine could have at least saved what she spent on cable. But to an older woman who lived in a trailer park isolated from the rest of the city, who had no car, who didn’t know how to use the Internet, who only sometimes had a phone, who no longer worked, and who sometimes was seized with fibromyalgia attacks and cluster migraines—cable was a valued friend.

People like Larraine lived with so many compounded limitations that it was difficult to imagine the amount of good behavior or self-control that would allow them to lift themselves out of poverty. The distance between grinding poverty and even stable poverty could be so vast that those at the bottom had little hope of climbing out even if they pinched every penny. So they chose not to. Instead, they tried to survive in color, to season the suffering with pleasure. They would get a little high or have a drink or do a bit of gambling or acquire a television. They might buy lobster on food stamps. If Larraine spent her money unwisely, it was not because her benefits left her with so much but because they left her with so little. She paid the price for her lobster dinner. She had to eat pantry food the rest of the month. Some days, she simply went hungry. It was worth it. “I’m satisfied with what I had,” she said. “And I’m willing to eat noodles for the rest of the month because of it.”

Larraine learned a long time ago not to apologize for her existence. “People will begrudge you for anything,” she said. She didn’t care that the checkout clerk looked at her funny. She got the same looks when she bought the $14 tart balsamic vinegar or ribs or on-sale steak or chicken. Larraine loved to cook. “I have a right to live, and I have a right to live like I want to live,” she said. “People don’t realize that even poor people get tired of the same old taste. Like, I literally hate hot dogs, but I was brought up on them. So you think, ‘When I get older, I will have steak.’ So now I’m older. And I do.”]

matthew desmond, from evicted: poverty and profit in the american city, 2016

[waywardimpalawriter]

Memory Lane

Memory lane

Summary: Life is full of memories.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader, Sam Winchester, Castiel,

Setting: anytime

Rating: PG:13

Warnings: none just sugary sweet fluff

Word count: 3,103

Notes: Written for @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog #mimi's romcom fluff challenge. My prompt: Besides you claimed it was a matter of life and death.

Forever: @winters-buck @angryschnauzer @marvel-lucy @aquabrie @fandommaniacx @thetalesofmooseandsquirrel @supernaturallymarvellous @feelmyroarrrr

Supernatural: @smoothdogsgirl @ruprecht0420 @oneshoeshort @aprofoundbondwithdean

Memory lane tags: @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @bradygabrielle-blog @chennyetomlinson

 Stretching, working the kinks out in your back feeling nothing beside you but cool sheets. Eyes open to find what you guess you’re alone in bed with just a note on his pillow. Curious picking up the crisp white folded in half paper, seeing Dean's surprisingly neat handwriting.

Wildflower

           Remember the first time I called you that? What were we 10 no 12, you’d made one of those flower things for your hair. Made one for me to if memory serves but I think I laughed calling it too girly and tossed it in the dirt. Had more important things back then, than some silly flower crown. If only I knew back then what I knew now baby girl. I bet your wondering why I’m bringing this up, in all do time Wildflower. For now I want you to shower, dress and come to the kitchen.

                                                                                   Dean…

“What do you have up your sleeve Dean Winchester,” a smile and shake of your head at his antics but you comply anyway.

The shower felt so nice lonely without him but the pressure made up for Dean’s absents nicely. Coming back to your room puzzled as to why the door is half open. You tip toe towards it pushing slowly to see the most beautiful butter yellow sundress you’d ever seen laying spread on the bed. Fingering the delicate white lace bra in the style you normally buy for special occasions which truthfully had become few and far between. You can’t even remember the last time you and Dean went out on an actual date that didn’t get ruined by a case. All in the name of protecting humanity from the supernatural and beings that most they would rather choice to ignore.

Seeing another little note that simply said ‘wear me’ placed between the dress and panties/bra set. Beginning to wonder if a pod person hadn’t abducted your boyfriend like the fairies had all those years ago. A soft chuckle, the only sound in the otherwise quiet room, memoires flowed through your mind while staring at the magnificent pieces you hoped hadn’t cost a fortune.

Tossing the scrap of paper away only to pick it back up when you see something written on the other side. This time a full belly laugh leaves your lips, ‘don’t worry about the cost your worth it’. Instead it became a memento tucked away in your own, very worn and dearly loved journal.

Soft smile on your lips while getting dressed which takes you almost no time, applying a light  bit of makeup, grabbing your purse on the way out heading for the kitchen. Delicious smells of pancakes, bacon and eggs meeting you’re growling tummy even before entering the kitchen. Fresh brewed coffee mixed in with but no sign of your wayward boyfriend only Sam.

Puzzled, “What’s going on Sam, where’s Dean?”

“Busy with something Y/N he wanted me to make sure you had a good breakfast first before giving you the next clue,” Sam answered arm out indicating the table. Which is laden with all the mouthwatering foods you smelled and even a few, the fresh fruits and juices, you hadn’t.

Glancing from the table back to Sam, “I don’t understand it’s not my birthday or our anniversary. What’d Dean do?” arms crossed not making a move towards the table no matter how much your stomach begs.

Chuckling shaking his shaggy brown head, “He’s done nothing Y/N scouts honor.”

“You were never a scout Sam so you can’t use that,” you relent slipping into a seat and piling your plate high with a little bit of everything. Watching as Sam sat down opposite you digging in to his own plate. “So what’s this really about?” suspicious to Dean’s true motives.  

“It almost sounds like you don’t trust Dean?” brow lifted though there’s a smirk on his syrup coated lips. Grinning he adds, “Just eat I’ll explain everything after.”

Wanting to ask more though you knew from experience Sam wouldn’t give anything up, he wasn’t as easy to persuade as Dean. Therefore you did as he said tucking into your breakfast muttering a string of praises to whoever cooked.

“I’ll have to let Dean know you approved.”

Glancing up from your plate, “Where is he anyway I could tell him myself.”

Pulling another white piece of paper from his back pocket and handing it to you, “That’s all I have to say Y/N.”

Narrowing your eyes at him though taking the note opening; seeing that once again Dean has left you another clue, hint for what you’re not sure.

Wildflower

           By now you’re wondering just what I have up my sleeve aren’t my little Sherlock? Don’t lie I know you all too well sweetheart. Just trust me when I say you’ll love what’s to come. As to the clue, remember where we met, how we met it’s a long drive I know that’s why I enlisted a little help from our pal. Look over Y/N…

                                                                       Dean

Doing as the letter instructed a rustle of wings and a trench coat filled the tiny kitchen, Castiel appearing with a soft genuine smile on his slightly pink lips.

“Morning Y/N I trust you slept well?” he greeted with a little tip of his head in your direction, “Sam good to see you as always.”

“Cas,” he acknowledged with his own half smile. Holding out the plate of bacon, “Want a little something before y’all leave?”

“Thank you no Sam I don’t eat remember,” Castiel replied waving him off looking to you.

“Where exactly are we going?” voice a little weary though you’ve always trusted Cas.

Extending his hand, “You shall see Y/N, Dean has this all set up and we must be going.”

Accepting his surprisingly callused hand, you raise and step into his embrace, eyes close not really enjoying this mode of transportation much.

“Be safe you two and bring her back in one piece Cas,” mirth in his voice watching as your eyes pop open to glare at him.

“You ain’t funny Winchester,” managing to get out before the kitchen disappeared and your standing now in the school yard in small town Ohio.

Stepping away to look around, “Some things just never change,” you whisper walking towards the swings and sitting down.

“So this is where you met Dean?” he asks taking the swing next to yours.

Nodding, “Yeah my parents were on the same hunt his dad was. They teamed up to lay waste to a nest of vamps. Myself, Sam and Dean stayed here went to school and tried to live what we could of a normal life. Course I didn’t know they knew what our parents did.”

Curious, “Mind telling me the story?”

Smiling memories filling your mind, you point to the slide not far from where your slowly swaying, breeze fluttering around them. “I’d always been a tomboy growing up, mom teaching me how to shoot and handle myself from early on. As I said I knew of Dean, new kid in the same year I was fifth grade if I remember right. It’d been a cold afternoon class just got out and I always came over here to just chill out for a bit. Didn’t have any friends.”

“Why not, you’re a very likeable person Y/N?”

“Thank you Cas,” smiling looking over at him, “but back then being the new kid in school wasn’t fun, especially for an odd ball like myself. Ratty old cloths a size to big, long hair always in a french braid my mother would do for me. As it so happens the Winchesters were new to and the school yard bully likes picking on fresh meat as he’d say. I heard the picking and crowd that grew around the two boys. Well dad always taught me to stand up for the little guy and when I saw this bigger kid picking on little Sammy I couldn’t let this happen.”

Chuckling, looking down at the skirt move with the wind as you swung slowly gathering your thoughts. “I stepped in punching the other kid in the nose using the technique mom taught me so I didn’t break my fingers or thumb. The crowd backed up a little afraid of me by this point as I stood in front of Sam who’s on the ground skinned knee, tears on his cheeks. Not five minutes later Dean came pushing through seeing what happened and even then having that patent eye brow raise he uses.”

“Ah yes the one where he’s intrigued and trying not to smirk at the same time,” Castiel states a fond smile on his own lips.

“Yes that one,” clearing your throat, “anyway I helped him bring Sam back to the motel and get patched up. Not really saying much to each other till Sam thanked me quietly and went off to watch TV. I went to leave and Dean, against his dad’s wishes asked me to stick around. We traded stories quietly as Sam had fallen asleep finding out that our parents were in the same business.”

“How long was it till you saw each other after that?

Glancing over, “Couple of months by that time my dad had gotten his self-killed fighting a banshee that mom would later take care of. John asked us to tag along and at first mom didn’t want to rather having us go our separate ways. But she finally relented and we joined up with the Winchesters for quite a many hunting trips; sometimes going our different directions when there were more cases than people.”

“As Dean instructed me,” Castiel hands over another crisp fold white piece of paper.

Head tipped, “So you hadn’t really…”

“I did, originally Dean only wanted me to bring you here so you could look around and read that letter then we’d leave. I wanted to know more about your history together.”

“That’s very sweet of you Cas,” unfolding to see Dean’s neat handwriting not hearing Castiel get up and walk for a few paces to give you privacy.  

Wildflower

           I never thanked you for standing up for my brother that day. Being there when I couldn’t; even before we knew each other you watched out for my ass like you always do. Held me up after Sam’s almost death, when I got back from hell, and through the fucking apocalypse; bringing me back from myself and the brink, always showing no kicking my ass when I needed it. I owe you so much more than I can ever repay sweetheart you are my life. Ah crap this is sounding like a chick flick moment so I’m ending here. Next stop you have to guess at sweetheart.

                                                                                   Dean

 Racking your brain for where Dean could’ve put the next note, there’s so many places you’ve been together. Many important times in your lives though a few stick out more than others.

“Hey Cas would you mind taking me to Harvelle’s?” an idea popping into your head as to your next destination.

“Of course Y/N but you know the roadhouse is gone right?” he states matter of fact a frown on his handsome face.

Nodding, “I do indeed Cas but there’s a reason I need to go there next.”

With a tip of his head and extended hand which you take and step into his arms the two of you are whisked away. Landing the sight of charred remains, grass growing through the black crumbling building. Swallowing hard stepping the white folded paper sticking out from the black that you pull off and hold close. Same hand fondly touched the burned wood, so many memories in one little place.

“How did you know?”

Turning, “My mother and I came here so many times, Jo and I were good friends though she was a bit jealous of the fact that Dean chose me over her. We made amends before she died,” taking a deep breath to steady yourself as not all the memories of this place are good. “Ellen and my mother were best of friends to though Ellen never understood why my mom kept fighting after my dad died. She didn’t understand the drive to protect and rid the world of evil so humans could be safe.”

Stepping away, “Plus this is the first place Dean and I went on an actually date. It was after a simple salt and burn Sam got sick with the flu so he stayed behind at the motel while Dean and I took care of the ghost. Even dirt covered and smelly he asked me out on our first date. Ellen hadn’t been too thrilled with how we showed up. She let us use her guest room to clean up and more presentable. Good thing we always carry extra clothes in the back of Baby.”

Fond smile slides over your lips as you finger the white piece of paper in your hands finally opening to read what Dean has put this time.

Wildflower

           I’m betting your standing in front of the Roadhouse remembering good time right now. I can still hear Ash’s snores from the pool table that one night we got there so late most everyone else was gone. But you wanted to see Jo and Ellen since we’d been so close. I also remember our first date, how even covered it dirt from digging a grave you looked so beautiful. To this day I still can’t figure out why the hell you ever said yes to an asshole like me. Don’t roll your eyes sweetheart they’ll stay like that. Last stop can you guess where?

                                               Dean

This time it’s a two for and a little harder to pin point than all the others. You don’t even have to ask when Castiel took your arm and brought you into the circle of his arms. A rustle of wings and trench coat and you’re in the middle of a corn field Baby sitting off to the side which makes you frown in wonder how…

“You were in on this weren’t you like Sam. You know what Dean has planned all along don’t you Cas?” tone light but firm wanting to know but at the same time this trip down memory lane has been charming though confusing to.

Smiling, “I cannot say anything to what Dean has planned he just asked me to transport you around as most of the places would be too far for you to get to and back in time.”

Scowling, fixing to give him what for only to find him gone when you turn around. Left thankfully not far from the Bunker. Curiosity has you moving towards the driver’s side finding the doors unlocked, before you can slip in a color catching your eyes. A bundle of carnations lay in the seat, soft yellow in color, another note attached. Picking up the bouquet and inhaling the fragrance you slide into Baby’s drive seat opening the note.

Wildflower

           That night what four years ago one of the best I’d ever had. The moment I told you I loved you and meant every word and will always. You’ve made me a better man Y/N, kept me alive and taught me the meaning of life without knowing you had. You are my life Y/N and this; this is the only way I can tell you and be able to get out without cracking some kind of joke or inappropriate comment that’ll get me slapped. I love you Y/N.

                                                           Dean

Tears gather in your eyes, a few slipping down your cheeks at his sweet words. Jumping at the sound of your cell going off, you pull it from the small bag you brought with. “I was wondering when you’d call,” voice light and teasing, putting the bouquet beside you on the seat.

“Baby I hate to cut our day short but you need to get back to the Bunker we have a case,” his voice sounding off like he’s holding something back.

“Already I was hoping that today was our off day,” a playful pout in the cadence of your tone even as you start Baby and putting her into gear heading back towards the Bunker.

Sighing, “I know sweetheart I did to but you know evil don’t rest for no man nor will it stop. It’s a bad one sweetheart we gotta hurry, life or death things are happening.”

“I’ll be there in a little bit Dean, hold your ass baby,” flooring it and kicking up a cloud of dust on your way out.

Fifteen minutes later, pulling Baby into her spot in the underground garage, getting out, grabbing your flowers and making your way upstairs, you’re surprised to see a path of flower petals. Following them towards the library where Dean’s standing dressed in his FBI dubs a single red carnation in his hand.  

“What,” stepping forward eyes taking him in, “what’s going on Dean?”

“Surprise,” he smiles dropping to a knee before you sea green eyes sparkling in the low light.

Glairing but your heart is beating so fast inside your chest, “I rushed to get here thinking… because you said and made it sound horrible.” Shaking your head, “Besides you claimed it was a matter of life and death.”

“Well actually it kinda is, my life or death,” he swallows pulling a little velvet box from his pocket.

Gasping, “Dean, what, what’s going on?”

“I had this whole long spiel planned to say, to talk you into saying yes to my proposal. I want you to marry me Y/N be my forever?” hands shaking while opening the box showing you the small garnet ring with a silver band.

Looking from the ring to Dean and back again, nodding slowly tears slipping down your cheeks again, as you drop down to your knees before him. Taking his face in your hands, kissing him softly, “Yes my love, yes I’ll marry you.”

Big smile breaking out over his features, capturing your lips in a deep passionate kiss; resting your foreheads together, “Yes Wildflower is that a yes baby?

“Yes Dean it’s a yes,” you laugh kissing him again the two of you falling over onto the cold floor.

Shaking his head, “Really you two get a room” Sam comments though there’s a big smile on his lips. “Welcome officially to the family Y/N.”  

Looking from Sam’s retreating back to Dean, “So no case?”

“No case sweetheart,” he grins getting up then scooping you up into his arms. “And for the next few days you’re all mine.”

Laughter echo’s down the hall as Dean rushes the two of you towards your shared room.

[247krp]

— Rejoice, little lambs! We have recovered our own Hwan Jaemin, spotted prancing about in the Southwest Side. I don’t remember seeing him with any clique back in high school, but I’m not here to spill yesterday’s tea. So straight to the rundown: can you say analytical and self-assured? Apparently now he spends time as an advertising and editorial photographer at PJJ Publishing, and keeps skeletons buried at Geumsang Apartment Complex, B302. But those won’t stay hidden for long, if you and I have any say on it. Welcome back, Boy Blunder; we missed you so.

In case you don’t remember the devil’s name, here’s to refresh your memory:

Samuel was rather shy and nervous during the first year of high school, but it never showed. He kept his expressions blank, only his light hand shakes and twitching would betray how he really felt. He slowly gained the confidence needed to discover who he wanted to be, brisk and rather forward, he always knew what he wanted and how to get it, it was a sort of confidence in one being, and thought process. He was never rude to the other students, but he did make sure to avoid certain cliques and groups. He heard of the rumours floating around, who wouldn’t when it was spoken of so frequently, and he had made sure to never slip up, and to do so he kept himself distant from others (it was rather easy after all, Samuel was always rather awkward, and never knew how to handle small talk). When it came to his reputation, he was rather viewed as a loner, someone hard to reach, cold and closed off. Students were weary of speaking to him, teaming up with him for group projects and what not because he was something hard to understand. It was easy to judge someone when they had a label, but Jaemin seemed to avoid all of them, and find his own box to get into. For that reason, most people avoided him and deemed him weird, an anomaly and something unable to be understood.

Nevermind the memory lane though, the present is always the ripest fruit:

Samuel’s personality didn’t change much from how he was in high school, he’s still straight forward when it comes to his goals and thought process, though his social skills if anything seemed to deteriorate with time. From high school to college, Samuel seemed to keep avoiding people regardless of any situation. Old habits die hard, don’t they? At least he isn’t in denial about it anymore, making sure to get help for his social anxiety, apparently there’s a name for those types of things now. It’s a work in progress. Behind the mask, Sammy transforms into someone confident, never cocky, snarky and sarcastic. As for reputation, the same thing seems to keep following around: too cold, distant, a loner, boring, weird and uninteresting. One thing did change, apparently he’s pretty to others, whatever that means. Maybe it’s the hair?

But we are nothing if not open books – my job is to ensure you get to the best pages:

Hwan Jaemin was born on the 19th of July in Manchester, England, and was abandoned at an orphanage when he was just a baby by his birth parents. Adopted by Josie and Jake Jones, he was given his English name and became Samuel Jones. His parents were high up in the social hierarchy, one could call them rich, which they indeed were. Samuel lived in the Jones Manor which he would soon realize was rather recluse and far from the city; there was nothing much other than a forest and greenery around him. Despite his parents adopting him, he quickly learned they did so only so he could become the next in line to inherent Jones Industries. You see, his mother, Jessie, was infertile, and his father, Jake, wouldn’t simply ever want to lose his company he worked so hard to gain. And so they trained him to be proper and prim. No son of theirs could ever be anything but perfect. From etiquette lessons, to manners, it was all ever so suffocating. Samuel figured if he could pull through and could prove to them that he would make heir, maybe they would start paying attention to him and love him. He was wrong. All he ever got was scrutiny, and nods of approval, cold and calculating, there was no warmth for him there in their lives. Sammy quickly grew to hate being their heir. He didn’t want it.

Their behaviour never seemed to quite change, and so, Samuel learned to be silent, and quiet. To him, it was better if he ceased to exist in their eyes. He would rather to pretend he didn’t exist than to constantly receive disapproval for not breathing the proper way, and for not replying the proper way, for not existing the right way. It was all too exhausting. It worked, somewhat. The young boy would disappear into his room when his parents would finally come home after their long trips to foreign counties that they seem to never consider taking him along with. He was always alone in that big, cold manor that he grew to loathe. Every morning he would wake up feeling cold and empty; sometimes a nanny would be there if his parents remembered (though most of the time they didn’t). It was the sort of cold and clinical type of relationship that would haunt him forever, and that would never cease to terrify him. He had to be strong though. At a young age, Samuel knew the didn’t want to fall into his parents shoes, he didn’t want anything to do with them or the company they owned.

He lived in his own fantasy world, escaping the hurt and neglect he faced. Going to school in England was hard, the city that never completely slept and the students were never too kind, but Sam found something that helped him go on, a hobby of sorts, well two: photography and comic books. It might seem like an odd choice at first, but it really wasn’t. Sam enjoyed capturing the world into small, rectangle pieces of memory. It gave him meaning. He fell in love with the city at night, climbing on top of his rooftop, he would use his allowance to buy packets of any comic book he could find, and he fell in love with superheroes.

It was hard not to enjoy the fantasy world he fell into every night, each universe was so unique, from Marvel to DC, Samuel read it all. He would have to admit, he had a soft spot for the Batman series, maybe it was because they were all human, they usually were, they didn’t have any extraordinary powers, but they were able to be extraordinary regardless. And Sammy just wanted to be like that. He wanted to be important and make a difference. He saw how cold hearted the world truly was, and his pictures taken only proved his point further, he witnessed homeless people being treated like dirt, assaults and robberies; why couldn’t he intervene and change things, why couldn’t he make his neighbourhood a better place? And so he did. It wasn’t that hard to either, he had all the instructions needed to be the best vigilante in his comic books anyway, and if crime slowly stopped happening it would only be a good thing.

When he started high school, he was sent to Cheongnam. Samuel always imagined he’d stay in Manchester the rest of his life with his adoptive parents. He always knew he was adopted, and really, it wasn’t that hard to figure out, his features never seemed to match up with his parents’. All he had to do was dig up his birth certificate that was filed in their study and ask his nanny, and lo and behold, he found himself on a quick airplane ride to South Korea. If he knew it would have taken a simple question just to get away, he would have done it sooner.  Cheongnam was prestigious and highly suffocating, the whole time, all Samuel could remember was his childhood. Using his Korean name helped him dissociate from his past, and helped him find himself a new identity. He would always be the quiet one who sat in front of the class taking notes, and he’d always be the kid who’d answer the teacher’s questions correctly, but now he had hobbies and a passion, he had drive. He didn’t have his parents around anymore to judge him, or to mold him into being a carbon copy of them. He could do what he wanted, and he did, from joining clubs, to getting his ears pierced, Samuel- no, Jaemin, never felt so free in his life. Maybe he didn’t have many friends in high school, he never was able to develop the ability to make friends quite well, he was always a bit too awkward, a bit too shy, but he never shied away from his interests. High school might have been a drag, but at least he was able to get into the art college he had wanted to study in photography (he never heard the end of it from Jake and Jessie, but he did it anyway).

Now a full, actual adult, Jaemin works as a photographer for PJJ Publishing, and at night, he continues to fight crime and purge the city of criminals as Red Robin, his alias.