#also Sam in 'its a terrible life ' is SO ORANGE

[tj-dragonblade]

[Connect 4 FIC] Promises in the Wake

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: G Word Count: 1301 Tags: fluff, apple picking, autumn, domesticity, feelings, alternate comics ending inferred, not retired Dream

Notes: This covers the @sandman-connect4 spaces Hands, Duty, and Breakdown which was only mentioned in passing but I'm still gonna count it. Also partially inspired by this adorable art by @monobuu. Aaaaand, here, have a song while you read, from whence the title came and whose vibes have definitely nurtured this as well: You're Still Here by Poets of the Fall

Summary: Hob and Dream go apple picking

On AO3

Dream's hand is warm in his.

Hob can't help noticing it, as they make their way through the orchard's gate. The autumn air is cool, crisp but not biting, the smell of apples and drying leaves and woodsmoke on the breeze. And Dream's hand, so often cool and otherworldly to the touch, feels warm and almost human in his own.

He's delighted that Dream reached for his hand, when they got out of the car, delighted that Dream seems genuinely happy to be here with him rather than just fondly indulgent. It's so achingly, beautifully mundane, going apple-picking for the Inn's kitchen with his boyfriend tagging along—the cosmically-powerful supernatural boyfriend who certainly has grander and far more important things to do, but who is also working hard to balance his duty and his personhood and Hob is so proud of the progress he's made.

It had taken a breakdown and an intervention to get to the point of Dream even admitting that something needed to change, and Hob is grateful every day that Dream chose to try, that Dream is still here. With him.

He's going to show Dream so many things beyond his duty that make life worthwhile, big and small and everything in between.

Dream's hand is warm in his.

Dream's chunky black boots crunch softly through the leaves underfoot as he leads Hob through the trees, Hob pulling the small cart with its three bushel baskets behind him. Dream is wearing his usual black skinny jeans and grey t-shirt, but Hob had convinced him the posh peacoat would be a little out of place. Dream, graciously, had borrowed a cozy flannel button down from Hob instead of manifesting something new, so Hob has the pleasure of seeing the warm autumnal orange and brown plaid of his own shirt wrapped around Dream's slender frame.

It becomes him, the soft seasonal look, but also. He's out and about in public, wearing something of Hob's, and the possessive primal instinct in Hob is so terribly pleased about it. Dream is not sharing that witch's clothes, nor apple-picking with the fae queen; he's here with plain old down-to-earth everyman Hob and sometimes Hob still has to stop and take a second to remind himself it's real.

But Dream's hand is warm in his, solid and perfect, and Dream does not let go.

Not even as he stops at a particular tree and steps closer to it; he simply draws Hob beneath its canopy with him. He presses his free hand flat to the trunk, gazes up into the branches, a faraway look in his dark and starry eyes.

"This one," he declares a long moment later, glancing over at Hob. "This tree dreams strongly, of sunlight and clear skies, sweet rains and rich earth, of its fruit spreading far and wide to grow new trees and nourish many. These apples carry those dreams; they will be robust and just sweet enough, well-suited for the pies Sam is planning."

"Thank you, duck," Hob smiles, and squeezes Dream's hand gently before letting it go. "Let's see—" He reaches for the apple hanging nearest, a fat round thing with a deep rosy blush over the golden undertones, and plucks it deftly from the branch. He polishes it against his jumper and then takes an enormous bite.

It's quite possibly the most perfect apple he's ever tasted, ripe and autumn-cool and exquisitely balanced between sweet and tart. It's crisp, juicy, and he can't help the almost-lewd sound of approval that leaves him. "Oh my god," he moans, through his mouthful. "You're absolutely right, love—here, try this—"

Dream looks at the apple that Hob holds out to him, something inscrutable passing over his face; then, with the smallest smile, he takes the offering and sinks his teeth into it delicately, a much more decorous bite than Hob's. Hob finds himself paying rapt attention to the smush and press of Dream's very-pink lips against the skin of the apple and the perfect white of his teeth cutting through the jucy flesh, the flick of his tongue catching a stray droplet as he pulls it away.

"Indeed," Dream says, having finished chewing first, and hands the apple back to Hob. "As expected, these will serve their purpose admirably."

Hob takes another bite, grins around it. "Then let's get picking, shall we?"

Dream works smoothly alongside him, long white fingers gently plucking apples from the branches, occasionally murmuring words that Hob doesn't quite catch to the fruit as he goes. Hob can't help watching him between picking his own apples, overfull with fondness, glancing his way constantly, and Dream of course is not blind to it.

"I am flattered by your regard, Hob Gadling, but gazing at me does not put apples in your basket." He sets another apple in the bushel he's filling as he speaks, mouth turned up in a little smirk that pairs beautifully with the sideways glance he gives from beneath his lashes, and the fact that he's teasing does nothing to discourage Hob's distraction. He wants to take Dream's hand, his warm and willing hand and pull him close; wants to spin him into a dance, waltz him about the orchard in his boots and skinny jeans and borrowed plaid on feet made light with quiet joy, kiss him beneath the apple boughs like they're in a sodding Disney film.

"Suppose you're right," he grins, and he knows it is absolutely besotted.

He is utterly, stupidly in love, and delighted to be so.

Dream's smirk softens into a smile, as if he can tell what's on Hob's mind; he plucks another apple from the tree, tosses it gently to Hob. "Apples, beloved," he admonishes, and Hob could swear the autumn sunshine grows softly brighter overhead.

There are enough ripe apples on this one tree to fill all three bushels; once they're full, Hob pats the tree kindly. "I'll be sure to plant the seeds from some of these in the Inn's garden," he says, half talking to the tree and half to Dream. "Those robust dreams won't go unrealized."

"It will be appreciated," Dream says, and his smile is a beautiful thing.

Dream reaches for Hob again as they bring their laden cart back through the orchard to weigh out and pay. "My sister is fond of apples," he says, as they walk, hand in hand. "Perhaps I should take one or two for her."

"The one who set us up?"

Dream's eyes roll the slightest bit. "Yes."

Hob grins; far easier to wrap his head around Dream's sister being Death if he focuses on how her gift has enabled what he shares now with Dream. And also, the way Dream reacts to his flippant summarization of the original deal never fails to amuse him. "I'm sure she'd appreciate the thought." He leans over, plants a kiss on Dream's cheek just because he can. "Tell her she's welcome to stop by for pie, too, if she likes."

"I shall," Dream decides, a soft happiness on his face, and Hob's heart does a grateful little trip. Dream is here, with him, smiling that little smile in his borrowed flannel shirt, alive and present and not burying himself under the weight of his duty; and Hob, Hob is so happy just to have him here, to see him thriving, to not have lost him to last century's unwelcome candor or the ordeal of Fawney Rig or anything else. He hopes, with all the fullness of his heart, that he can steal little mundane moments like this with Dream for the rest of his very long life.

Dream glances over, still with that secret little smile, as if he knows Hob's wishes and approves.

Hob smiles back, utterly content.

And Dream's hand is warm in his.

= Started: 11/4/24 Drafted: 11/6/24 Posted: 11/8/24

Leaving behind the weight vying for yesteryear Leaving promises in its wake, whispering, My love, you're still here You're still here ~ Poets of the Fall, 'You're Still Here' YouTube Spotify

Disclaimer that I have never been apple-picking in any capacity so please forgive any details that may be egregiously incorrect.

[nickgerlich]

Seeing Blue

I grew up in a very different era. Different stores. Different cultural values. Different everything. If I were able to go back to the 1960s, the decade of my youth, I wouldn’t recognize the place, so much has changed since then.

And one of the biggest most popular retail chains back then was Kmart. It was Walmart long before Sam Walton could gather enough momentum to expand out of Arkansas. The chain traced its roots to founder traveling hardware salesman S. S. Kresge, who opened his first store in 1897 with a partner. The shops, which soon spread across the US, were part of what was then known as the “five and dime” category, meaning cheap stuff.

It was in 1962 that his successor opened the first large-scale retail store, a prototype of the big box phenomenon that would come decades later. They were suburban, whereas the original Kresge stores tended to be center city. Kmart quickly became a retail icon.

There was a shiny new Kmart not many miles from where my family lived at the time, which was the south suburbs of Chicago. My Dad the Accountant always loved a bargain, and had no problem going there in search of one. Mom was enticed by short-term promotional offers that helped her replenish household needs, as well as personal products. My brother and I went along for the ride.

It was Kmart’s signature promotional stunt that probably painted a black eye on the company, though. Their Blue Light Special caused customers to get in an uproar, but also became synonymous with inexpensive junk.

Let me paint a word picture for you. At a seemingly random time, a shop employee would start walking the aisles with a special cart that had a revolving blue light mounted atop a pole. This caught shoppers’ attention, because no one knew where he was going. They just knew that a free for all was about to happen. At the ordained time and location, he would stop, and a voice would come over the loudspeaker: “Attention Kmart shoppers…”

And the deal was announced. “Pantyhose in Aisle 8 for 99 cents!” The women would go wild, pawing over nylon stockings as if this were a Black Friday sale on Xboxes. My brother, Dad, and I were left scratching our heads wondering what we were seeing, primal instinct propelling these women to fight as if they would never own another pair.

It scarred me for life. But then again, maybe it helped shape my never ending fascination with consumer behavior. I still don’t understand that scene, though.

Anyway. I have digressed terribly. Let’s skip forward to the 21C, which found a struggling Kmart and Sears merging in 2005. Both chains had seemingly outworn their welcome on the American retail landscape. Eddie Lampert and his hedge fund orchestrated the unlikely marriage, ostensibly so he could invest vast sums of money in both and make them more competitive again.

It quickly became apparent that Lampert was not at all interested in retail, but rather the land beneath it. The two chains had massive amounts of valuable real estate, and he started closing stores so they could be repurposed or demolished for other purposes. By 2019, there was little left, and in a fit of bankruptcy—long after he had extracted the value—he sold it to Transformco in what was probably the dumbest purchase ever. Unless, of course, Transformco thought it could squeeze a few more drops out of the orange.

Today, there are 11 Sears stores left in the continental US, and one in Puerto Rico. And Kmart—God bless them—is about to close its one remaining full-size store next month. All that will be left is a seriously downsized Kmart in Miami, and stores in the US Virgin Islands and Guam (because there’s no competition on those islands).

Fans of old retail are mourning, although we all knew it was just a matter of time. Amarillo lost its Kmarts years ago, as did the outlying towns. I remember the one in Clinton Oklahoma closing not long ago, one of the long-term survivors. You can always tell an old Kmart store, even though the company was always swift to remove all signage and vestiges of branding. About the best you could hope for is what we call a “label scar,” meaning the fuzzy, ghostly imprint of lettering when the rest of the building had faded around it through the years.

I am pretty sure that most of my students have not experienced a Kmart, unless you grew up near one of the rapidly dwindling number of stores during the last 20 years. They were hideous, typically in disrepair, with merchandise scattered haphazardly throughout. It wasn’t just cheap. It reaked of cheap. “Blue Light Special” had come to characterize the whole place, not just a good deal over on Aisle 8.

I could be callous and say good riddance, but I recognize that Kmart served its purpose. In many regards, Dollar General and the other stores of this type are carrying on the tradition, although on a much smaller scale, and without colorful lights. By comparison, Walmart looks like Saks 5th Avenue, and Target is Nordstrom.

And yet I still remember the carnage of women gone wild that one day. Some memories you simply cannot erase.

Dr “But I Wish I Could” Gerlich

Audio Blog

[from-the-clouds]

Kiss Me More (Part IIII) - Zemo/Reader

Masterlist | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | 

Summary: Reader ponders the decision they made after meeting Zemo in Riga. Series now complete!

Words: 5.2k

Warnings: Kissing, marijuana & alcohol abuse, heavy angst & depression, small reference to suicide, implied casual sex, yearning

A/N (also check out A/N at end when finished reading): This is it, everyone! I was going to end this completely differently originally, but after some thinking --  and some light peer pressure from ya’ll, I did something a little different. I did fight with this part the most out of all of them, so I hope it’s still good. Please enjoy. And thank you for all the love on this series, it’s been so fun to write! Also I was listening to this song while writing this.

---

The incessant buzz of her alarm clock jolted her out of her dreamless sleep. Fumbling in the dark, she slapped the top of it, hitting the snooze button and looking at the interface with bleary eyes. 

4:00 A.M. It stared, indifferent, back at her tired face. 

She groaned, squeezing her eyes shut and lamenting, bargaining, half expecting the clock to turn back time when she opened her eyes again. Unfortunately, it did not. With a huff, she threw back the covers and stretched, disturbing the orange cat that slept in the empty spot next to her where her husband used to lay. 

Snorting, the cat lifted its head to look at her as she climbed out of bed before curling back up in a ball where her feet had been. 

“Don’t mind me, just getting ready for work so I can feed us,” she said, grumpily, then in a moment of repentance, affectionately scratching her behind the ears. 

She had always been a night owl, so she didn’t think it would be possible to ever get used to waking this early. No human was meant to function at this time. It was the one part of the job she hated most. The rest of it was manageable, though it was still work. 

Setting about her morning routine, she showered, made coffee, and donned her uniform. Eating a day-old bagel and nursing her coffee on her tiny balcony, she looked out over the darkened horizon. It was far too early to even enjoy a sunrise. 

There was a saying, time heals all wounds. After her husband died, she’d heard it a lot. It was a saying she had come to find true. But it’d been well over a year since she’d left Helmut, alone in that swanky hotel room, and it still hurt like it was yesterday. 

“I understand,” he’d murmured, and she felt the ghost of his kiss on her forehead, arms around her waist, even now. She shivered, not from the chill of the morning air.

She’d left her old life behind, all of it. Sam and Bucky, too, about a month after their time in Riga. She couldn’t look them in the eyes after what she’d done.

But, she was proud of what they’d accomplished. They’d defeated the Flag Smashers. Bucky seemed happier, more at peace. Sam had accepted his role as the new Captain America. John Walker seemed to have faded into irrelevancy. All the loose ends had been tied up in a pretty little bow.

Except for hers.

Which is why she moved, sold all the stuff in her tiny NYC apartment, and packed her car full with what she couldn’t bear to part with, some photos and momentos from a different lifetime. Her car didn’t stop until she hit the Atlantic Ocean, on an island just south of Charleston. All but undiscovered by tourists, the residents in the sleepy beach town kept to themselves, and she could go about her life in peace, undisturbed. 

She couldn’t just run away from her problems, that was why she’d left Zemo. It seemed counterintuitive, but in her mind, it made sense. The problems would catch up to her, like they always had. The dissatisfaction she had with her life, with herself, was always going to return. And she knew she had to be alone to deal to face it head on. Like a wounded animal, crawling into the woods, there were only two ways things could end here; either she’d heal and come out stronger, or eventually she’d die. And so far, the healing part wasn’t going great. 

Each day was a matter of convincing herself that she’d made the right choice. Especially now, as her eyes burned, fighting to stay open against the inviting embrace of sleep. 

Despite it being dark outside, the bakery was bustling already when she walked in the service entrance. It smelled amazing, as always. Sweet and warm, a cacophony of aromas, baking bread, fresh coffee, sugar.

She set about the usual preparations to open up, packaging orders for the regulars, sweeping the floor, wiping down countertops. Once the place was open, she didn’t have to work the register, as she prepared batches of dough in the back for proofing, to be baked the next day. 

Before, she’d been a terrible cook, but she’d grown comfortable in the kitchen after learning to bake. There was something satisfying about working with her hands, at this point she’d memorized all the recipes and the work became second nature to her. Now, she always had fresh bread and pastries in her kitchen, although they were the slightly disformed, ones the shop owners deemed too ugly for the glass display cases. Daylight was cherished, even if she barely saw it inside the shop. Because while she was awake, busy with work, her thoughts remained pleasant.

At night it was the hardest. Things got quiet, lonely. When she got home, she poured herself a drink. Cheap whiskey, the kind that came in a plastic bottle and burned on it’s way down. She had never been much of a drinker before, she was now. Her thoughts were more manageable after a drink. Especially because she was usually thinking of Helmut. 

It was often that she wondered what he may be doing, and those thoughts usually ended with the image of him lying in the sun, poolside, on some island in the Pacific Ocean, drinking expensive champagne with a supermodel. It wasn’t a particularly comforting thought to her, and yet she was plagued by some variation of it every night. 

Sometimes, she’d humor herself, and imagine what they might be doing had she decided to stay with him. Unfortunately, thinking of that was more upsetting. She wanted it, selfishly, though she wasn’t willing to admit it.

When she was younger, it had been so easy to block out the pain, to just press forward, no matter what. Much to her dismay, it didn’t get easier as she got older. Years of watching those she loved in pain, years of being in pain had taken a toll on her resilience. She wasn’t the strong woman she once was, she was weak.

That night, one drink had turned into two, into three. Wallowing in her own self-pity had become second-nature, she felt like Hamlet, lamenting her circumstances, a constant turmoil monologuing in her brain. But this night felt particularly worse, for some reason. 

For the record, she had been doing better. But she was all-too-familiar with how grief worked, pulling her back down the dark side of the mountain, where she was forced to fight her demons over and over again. At some point, they were going to win.

It was a funny thing. Despite the loss of her husband, who she had loved dearly, his death had been easier to accept. Final. She couldn’t bring him back. Helmut on the other hand, was still out there, an open wound that could never fully heal.

Before she knew it, she was four drinks in, at her bedside table, fumbling through the bottom drawer, until she found what she was looking for.

Back on her couch, she stared at the card in her hand, the hastily written phone number on it, an international line. Helmut had given it to her, the day she left, stuck it in her purse while she wasn’t looking. She didn’t discover it until she had returned home.

It had been months since she last did this, pulled the card out of its hidden place in her drawer, placed it on the coffee table in front of her next to her phone, and considered dialing it. It had been a frequent occurrence when she first moved here, when she couldn’t find a job and spent most of her mornings either hungover, or stumbling home from rendezvous with men whose names she wouldn’t remember, and she wouldn’t care to, because there was only one man she really wanted. She could only hope he’d be as close as one call away. But she never called. 

I mean really, he’d probably moved on by this point. If she was going to call, she should have done it months ago, when there was more of a chance that he’d give a fuck. 

She considered this a setback. But she’d made her way halfway through the cheap bottle of whiskey, it was the drunkest she’d been in ages and she was curious. She didn’t know whose number it was, who’d be on the other end of the line, and never knew why Helmut would want her to have it to begin with.  

At this point, she wasn’t capable of good decision making. In general, it hadn’t always been her strong suit. So why did doing the right thing matter now? It didn’t, she decided. 

Taking a swig of whiskey straight from the bottle, she ensured she wouldn’t remember what happened next, at least not clearly. 

The phone rang twice before someone picked up. “Hello?” she didn’t recognize the sound of the man on the other end of the line immediately, so she didn’t answer. All she had wanted to do was maybe hear Helmut’s voice, he didn’t even need to know it was her that was calling. 

“Hello?” the man repeated, and she realized it wasn’t completely unfamiliar. The grandfatherly, comforting tone wasn’t her former lover, but someone close to him. And she supposed that wasn’t terrible.

“Is this Oeznik?” she asked. 

“It is,” he said after some hesitation. “May I ask who’s speaking?”

Truthfully, she was shocked she’d allowed herself to go this far. This was a bad idea. If she stopped now she could get off without doing any real damage. But just as she was about to hang up, she heard her name, muffled, on the other end of the line. 

“H-How do you know it’s me?” She raised the phone back to her ear. 

“I thought you sounded familiar,” Oeznik chuckled, low and soft. “Helmut told me you might call.”

“He did?” she squeaked. “Yes, although it was awhile ago. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I uh….I….well….” she managed. “I guess I just….I guess I wanted to see how he was doing.”  Her words flowed together like the liquor she was drinking, she knew she sounded drunk.

“Good, since we last spoke,” he said. “I don’t hear from him much these days...maybe every couple months. As you might imagine, he’s trying to keep a low profile for the time being.”

She nodded. Perhaps Zemo was as lonely as she was, hidden away in some cabin in the middle of nowhere. Though she had to imagine it looked much nicer than her current place, and maybe he had better company than a portly orange cat that begrudgingly liked him. “I understand.”

“How have you been?” he asked.

It sounded stupid, but she realized it was the first time someone had asked her that. Sincerely. Checked up on her. Even if she was the one who had dialed the number in the first place.

“I’m good,” her voice cracked. “Just keeping busy.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “Helmut always had such nice things to say about you.”

“Really?” she couldn’t stop herself. 

“Of course, would you like me to let him know you called?” 

“No, no...I wouldn’t want to bother him,” she choked on her words, something catching in her throat.

“Are you sure you’re alright, dear?”

“I’m okay, I just….” she felt tears prick at the back of her eyes, lowering her voice, since she didn’t think her normal register would come out as anything other than a whine. “I think I made a horrible mistake.”

“What’s the matter? What did you do?”

She shook her head, shaking the tears loose and now they were lining her lashes, threatening to spill over. However, she managed to make the next words she spoke come out clearly. “Nothing, I just...it’s really stupid, I really shouldn’t have called.”

He sighed on the other end of the line, and she felt like, despite her attempt at staying calm, he could still see that she wasn’t somehow. “It seemed Helmut was awfully sweet on you,” Oeznik’s words next came hesitantly, calculated. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but he told me if you ever called, to help you with whatever you might need, no matter the ask.”

Oh God, what had she done? A sob left her, one she couldn’t control, and she clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle any more. Her tears were flowing freely now, tracking down her cheeks and along her chin. She wiped at them clumsily, clearing her throat. 

“That’s very kind of him, but you can’t help me. I’m so sorry to bother you, please just forget I even called,” she forced a smile on her face so that hopefully he could hear it. “Goodbye.”

She hung up, horrified, and within seconds had deleted the call log from her phone. She’d been thoughtful enough not to memorize the number, and the lighter she used whenever she smoked sat in front of her. Without a second though, she burned the card, watching the paper blacken and disintegrate, until it was all but a pile of soot on her Wal-Mart coffee table. It was a fair punishment, and ensured she’d never get the chance to embarrass herself like that again. 

And then she cried, sobbed into a pillow next to her, until her tears ran dry and she wore herself out, falling asleep on the couch alone. When she’d wake the next morning, the only evidence of her actions would be a throbbing headache and a dead phone. 

She wouldn’t remember the call.

----

Life went on, as it always did. It had been about a month, and since that night she grew more indifferent, remembered how to ignore heartbreak. For now, she was stuck in her purgatory, waking up before the sun and falling asleep before it set, smoking joints, drinking cheap liquor, and going on the occasional date with people who she didn’t really like, tourists who would leave after a week and wanted temporary company. 

Despite everything, she partly believed things were getting better. Maybe they weren’t, but the possibility that someday they would seemed feasible. And that was enough, for now. 

On her days off, she’d walk to the beach and lay on a blanket, reading a book until the sun dipped below the horizon and lit up the sky in hues of pinks and purples. She found a record player at an antique store and began collecting vinyls, listening to obscure artists whose albums she found in the $1 bin. It wasn’t so bad. Life wasn’t so bad. 

She took a shower after work. Tomorrow was her off day, and she wasn’t sure what she had planned besides maybe watching a movie and getting stoned. Maybe she’d try going to the beach. The weather was getting warmer, and she could even go swimming if the water wasn’t too cold. 

Exhausted from her day of work, she laid down in her bed, still in her robe, her hair wrapped in a towel around her head. The sun was setting outside, the windchimes she’d hung outside slowly clanging together, birds singing in the warm spring air. Her cat hopped on the bed, offered an affectionate trill and curled up at her side, purring, in a rare display of affection. A cool breeze drifted through the open window. And for the first time in over a year, she felt content. Closing her eyes, she savored the moment, committed it to memory, so she could recall it the next time she was drunk-crying in front of her TV. 

She fell asleep slowly, so slowly that when she woke, startled by something in her kitchen clattering to the floor, it felt like she hadn’t even been sleeping at all. The clock next to her red 11:31 p.m. and it was pitch dark outside, the cool breeze from before had grown stronger and her bedroom curtains were billowing, wind whistling loudly through the apartment. Her cat had left her side, and she frowned, shivering in the sudden cold.

Pulling the towel off her head, she made her way over to the window with the intention to close it, sleepily, lazily, until she heard something else. A creak in the floorboard. A heavy footstep in her kitchen. That wasn’t just her cat. 

Some kind of muscle memory was ignited then, an ancient instinct that called to her from a different lifetime. Darting across the room, the gun she kept was in her hand, stealthily pulled from its hiding spot beneath her mattress. Truth be told, she never thought she would’ve needed it. Anyone looking for her would be smart enough to kill her in her sleep, not be so foolish as to wake her first with their heavy footsteps. 

A dark silhouette stalked through her kitchen, moving slowly. It was a man, she assumed, based on his broader figure, and lack of coordination. In her experience, women were often stealthier without trying. He took another step, the floor creaking below him, shuffling on bargain linoleum. 

Staying low, she crept forward, ducking stealthily behind furniture, avoiding the spots on the floor she knew made noise. It didn’t appear the intruder had a weapon, in fact, it seemed he was bumbling about, searching for something. A burglar, and a bad one at that. An island full of vacation homes owned by rich doctors and they thought they’d find valuables in her shitty apartment?

It wasn’t until she was standing directly behind him, gun aimed at his head, that she finally spoke up. 

“I believe you’ve come to the wrong place,” she said flatly. “Whatever you’re looking for, it’d be in your best interest to leave empty-handed.”

Her eyes were still adjusting to the dark, but the intruder froze, arms slowly raising in defeat, empty-handed, as he turned around to face her. In the dingy room, she couldn’t make out any of his features, could only see that he was clad in all black.

“Unfortunately, liebling, that wasn’t my intention.” 

She would’ve recognized that voice anywhere, though the endearment he’d used was enough to clue her in. Hitting the lightswitch with her free hand, she was face to face with the man she’d spent the past year trying to purge from her memory, Helmut Zemo. 

Her gut twisted, her mind raced, but the only thing currently bubbling up, over the surface of every other emotion was the pure, seething rage left behind in the wake of fearing for her life.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she stepped towards him, gun still raised, fuming. 

“Hey, hey!” he staggered backwards, hands raised, eyes averted. 

“I thought you were a fucking robber!” she hissed. “I thought you were here to kill me!”

“Lower your voice,” he scolded. “You’re going to wake your neighbors.”

Taking a deep breath, she realized she still had her gun trained on him and she lowered it, clicking the safety and discarding the weapon on the countertop. “What the fuck?” she asked. “What the hell is wrong with you? What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I didn’t know you had such a mouth on you,” he smirked, but she wasn’t finished, and she glowered at him. 

“You broke into my apartment!” she growled.

“I had to be sure I was in the right place.”

“Yeah? You couldn’t have knocked first?”

He nodded, eyes trailing down to her hands, which were trembling, she hadn’t even realized. He seemed to understand what he’d done then, and she flexed her fingers, eyes locking with his. “I suppose...you may be right,” he said, surrendering.

She felt the rage subsiding as she took in his appearance. He looked not so different from the last time she’d seen him, except a fair amount of stubble covered his jawline in a short beard. He was still devastatingly handsome. Zemo’s dark eyes, filled with longing, drank her in, tilting his head as his gaze shifted to her lips. It was like she could read his mind, she knew what he wanted, what he was thinking. And her body was going to betray her if he kept it up.

Despite everything, she was still upset. Upset and embarrassed, as the light was doing an unflattering expose of her tiny, cluttered apartment, full of mismatched furniture and water-damaged wallpaper that her landlord refused to replace. It probably gave the prison cells that Helmut had spent years in a run for their money, and was in stark contrast to every other aspect of his life.

“What’s this?” he asked, gesturing to the empty liquor bottles on her countertop, stowed in her trash can. “Have you been drinking?”

“Not tonight,” she quipped, on guard. Had to be. As much as some old instinct told her to throw herself into his arms, press her lips to the underside of his jaw, and let him envelope her in the comfort of his embrace, she knew she couldn’t.

“Hmm,” he brushed past her, frowning, looking disappointed, as he made his way to her living room. 

“How did you find me?” she asked, eyeing him wearily.

“I’m a wanted man, I trace every call that comes into my estate,” he said over his shoulder. 

Helmut was taking inventory of the cramped space, staring at the photos she’d hung in a collage on the wall behind her couch, with a few watercolors painted by her late husband. One in particular, that he was focused on now, was from her wedding. Of all the memories she chose to hang, this one was her fondest, her former partner was all dark curly hair falling into deep blue eyes, and she was the portrait of a blushing bride, wearing a dopey love-drunk smile, gazing at him, ignoring the camera. 

“You looked so beautiful on your wedding day,” he said, turning over his shoulder to look at her. He was so out of place here, standing in her living room, for a moment she thought he might be a hallucination, some physical manifestation of the heartbreak she’d experienced. “Although that doesn’t surprise me.”

She flushed, suddenly self-conscious in her thin black robe and still-damp hair. It occurred to her that she wasn’t looking her best, which made this whole situation that much more disconcerting. However, the compliment disarmed her slightly, and the anger she felt began to dissipate, slowly. She was going to offer him something to drink until her cat, who had been absent through the chaos, suddenly jumped up on the back of the couch and promptly hissed at him in an attempt to defend her territory.

“Pumpkin, be nice,” she said, although it was mostly to placate Helmut. Pumpkin never listened to her. 

Helmut let her sniff his hand, and she was stunned when the cat rubbed her face against it. Of course, Pumpkin would like him of all people. That made sense. Then again, she supposed it made them not so different. He turned away to look at the rest of the room. “I see you haven’t kicked that bad habit you told me about,” he gestured at the ashtray full of roaches on the coffee table. 

“Did you just come to my place to insult me?” she asked, putting her hands on her lips and feigning confidence. She could’ve rolled over and cried and told him how much she missed him, how many nights she’d spent crying over him, and while all of it was true, she felt indignation was the better option for her self-preservation.

“That’s a good question,” Helmut turned to face her now, hands in the pockets of the leather jacket he was wearing. Completely inappropriate for the weather here, but he didn’t seem to notice, or care. “Why do you think I’m here?” he asked.

She shrugged, feigning indifference. “I don’t know, but you shouldn’t be.”

He snorted, his frustration evident, and she saw a glimpse of the man that so many feared, the side that had earned him his dangerous reputation, that had him locked away in a high-security prison for nearly a decade. “I didn’t come all this way for nothing, draga, we’re going to have it out.”

“Fine,” she said, lacing as much venom as she could into her words to prepare herself. “Then get on with it.”

He stared her down, and the expression her wore startled her, something sparkled in his eyes, mischief, relief maybe? It was insulting. Like he didn’t take her seriously. But there was something else there, too, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but it was wiped from his visage before it registered.

The tension in the room dissipated slightly when Zemo sat on the arm of the worn couch she’d bought from a yard sale, and she winced. “I spoke to Oeznik the other day,” he said flatly, snorting, eyes focused on a stain on one of the rugs she owned. “He told me he had the pleasure of speaking to a friend of mine about a month ago.”

Frowning, she tilted her head, her eyes meeting Helmut’s. Something in her brain sparked a memory she’d once dismissed as a dream after a particularly bad night of drinking.

“He was concerned, you see, because this friend didn’t seem to be in the best state of mind,” Helmut rose from the arm of the couch, stalking forward slowly, and she couldn’t move backwards, not even if she wanted to, as he could pin her easily against the front door. His voice grew louder, faster as he went on. “He said she was crying, slurring her words, he told me he thought maybe she might be-” Helmut cut himself off abruptly and closed his eyes, clenching one of his fists, a look of distress on his face as he took in a terse breath. “I won’t finish that thought, but you’re a smart girl, you can imagine what I’m getting at.”

Swallowing hard, the phone call came back to her in pieces, the tears, sobbing on the phone to a man she hardly knew. It was the night she finally admitted to herself she’d made a mistake, even though she’d already known it, deep down when she left him in the hotel room. 

“Please forgive me for breaking in tonight,” Helmut said. “But I couldn’t bear the thought of you not answering the door, I needed to see with my own eyes that you were okay.”

Exhaling through her nose, she looked at the floor. “It’s not like that. I had too much to drink.” she said, keeping her voice as steady as possible. “It was just a bad night.”

“Then tell me, what was the horrible mistake you made?” he asked, stepping closer. He was close to her, now. So close. And his proximity made everything more difficult.

God, if only she could remember exactly what she’d said, the only thing that came to her were the emotions, desperation, sadness, grief. It was all too much, and he was threatening to bring them all back to destroy her again. 

“I shouldn’t have called,” she said, shaking her head. “And I’m sorry. What do you want me to say? What do you want from me?”

“What do I want from you?” He asked, tilting his head, his eyebrows pulling together. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? How hard it was to sit on a plane when all I wanted to do was be here? With you?” His hand rose to cup her cheek, stopping just short of her face when she flinched away from his touch.

“Please stop,” she managed, the burn of tears behind her eyes almost menacing. The last thing she needed was to cry in front of him. “You’re undoing everything.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked. 

“You’re….you’re here,” she murmured weakly, wetness seeping, glossing over her pupils. “I only have so much capacity for pain right now, if you touch me now, you’ll ruin everything.”

No one ever had this kind of hold on her, she’d never bent her rules to appease anyone else, and she’d gone toe to toe with super soldiers. He was just a man, and yet, he terrified her. 

“You really want me to leave?”

She couldn’t answer, but one tear escaped, sliding down her cheekbone, and she sniffled. 

“I’m not the one who did this to you,” his thumb, swiped along her face gently, wiping it away. He’d touched her, just barely, and she was reeling. 

“I know,” she stuttered, gasping. “I know it was me, but I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“You are so stubborn.” His expression softened as he looked upon her, his thumb tracing underneath her jaw, tilting her head upwards to look at him. Malleable, she obliged. “I’ve thought about you everyday since the night we spent together. You’ve plagued me. That can’t be a coincidence. Are you really happier this way? You must be honest with me.”

She shook her head, blinking out fresh tears. “No, I’m not. I just thought...by the time I realized I made the wrong choice, you’d have moved on. People like us don’t get to be happy.”

“Says who?”

How could she refuse him anymore? This would continue to go on until she gave in. And from the beginning, she wanted to give in. There was no use in fighting the inevitable. The small point of contact -- his hand on her chin -- radiated impressive warmth, and she could feel every part of herself being attracted to him, quelling some ache deep within her. 

Reaching up, she clutched at Helmut’s palm, which didn’t last long, because he pulled her into his arms, nestling her head underneath his chin. She melted into his embrace, finding solace in the warmth of his solid frame. 

“Come home with me,” he coaxed softly. 

“I will,” she murmured, surrendering to the comfort of his presence. “But you have to let me bring Pumpkin.”

He chuckled, warm and amiable, the vibration of his chest echoing in her own. “Of course, you’ll bring Pumpkin,” he murmured into her hair. Oh, how she had missed hearing him laugh. They could’ve stayed that way for hours, and she would’ve been content, but he pulled away, hands on either side of her face as he studied her.

Unable to hold back any longer, she leaned in to kiss him. It was chaste at first, all the memories of her last night with him came flooding back quickly when he parted his lips to deepen the kiss, but she didn’t want that quite yet, just needed a moment to process this. The simple comfort of being held by him, kissed by him, was more than enough for now. He’d been waiting for this, she could assume in the way that he responded, pulling her impossibly close so she was engulfed in him.

Her stomach flipped, a warmth blossoming in her chest as he pulled away, their foreheads touching. “Oh, I missed you,” she sighed, shivering as his beard tickled her neck, his mouth on her sensitive skin.

“And I, you,” he murmured. His eyes studied her, carefully, up close, and for the first time since meeting him, she really let him see her, teary-eyed and vulnerable.

She would never let him go again. 

---

A/N: So here we are! I know it’s been a ride, but I’m really excited for these two. However, I don’t feel like I’m done writing for Zemo yet. If ya’ll have any headcanons, thoughts, questions, requests, etc, feel free to drop them in my ask box or shoot me a DM. I’d love to talk more about him. I also would be down to write more oneshots based around this series, because I am sort of like….okay, they obviously have a connection, but they don’t know that much about each other, and I may or may not have a light future already mapped out for them. I might do an epilogue at some point even. But if you have anything you’d like to add, let me know!

Taglist: @juice-1981  @sapphiredreamer26  @tatooineisdry  @marvelsvision @spookycereal-s @trelaney @fireghost-x @booksarekindaneat  @thunderingbats  @felicityofbakerstreet @takacsgram @mischiefmanaged71 @fanfictionedagain @merelyhooper @gyllord @mundaytuesday @friday18eo  @lovegood7553  @adara-wolfhart @a-djarin @farawaywasteland @sky-writes-stuff @fuckinglittlekitten @katyasrussianaccent @agent-jbarnes  @neoarchipelago @pattispunk @kpopnena @purebloodwitch @spookyconsultingcriminal @msmarvelwrites @professorrw @lazyradeecal @captainrexstan @notyourfuckingbusinesss @felicityofbakerstreet @unlikekiana @maeday-18 @friendly-letters @fandom-lover-4 @meefal @queenfairyfangirl @gogomonbebelf @scullys-alienpussy @the-multiverse-approach @sky-writes-stuff @safiakillspop @eggofhumiliation @originalcollectorsaladsstuff @archangelproperty @friday18eo @jayden-rose-leon @actuallyanita @mayhemmachine @kermuddgen @zadiewrites @pach-inks @theokatz @reichelhache @autumnsoidier @mischief-siriusly-managed @danaaeaa @joey-motorola @singlemomslayer @stevesbestgirl @dinna-fashh @popriskra @xaanyhs @adorable-punk-superheroes​

[thatmexisaurusrex]

HOW DID I MISS THAT THERE WAS A KARAOKE OPTION OMG THAT NEEDS TO HAPPEN

Three is my lucky number so could you please do #9 even though this is my 3rd time requesting already?😅

Oh gosh, thank you so much for the prompt, @allcolorsoftherainbow, I had so much fun writing this one! I hope you enjoy it! 😆

Date 25 of 28: Karaoke

| - 24 - | - Prompt - | - 26 - |

"Life is a kite, Jane; I'm gonna fly it on my spouse."

"Do you think they're messing up on purpose?" asked Sam blowing out the on-fire orange peel in his fourth Campfire Sling, watching two very drunk women sing "Life is a Highway" by Rascal Flats very poorly, "Or are they just that drunk?"

"If you're going kite way; I'm going to hide behind my house."

"That's a very good question," said Bucky genuinely unsure.

"How did you even learn about this place?" asked Sam, turning his gaze to Bucky curiously.

"I have my ways," said Bucky with a wink.

There was something oddly beautiful about the place; as if stepping into another world, almost, and with a different atmosphere, Bucky felt like this place would seem like a horror film, maybe. Because there'd been a sorcerer ("Wizard!") who had transformed an abandoned amusement park into a series of outdoor bars.

Overgrown plants draped over the remnants of rusted down behemoths of entertainment, some Christmas-themed park gone to the wayside from what Bucky could to tell, with the odd elf or Mrs. Clause poking part of their body out from a flurry of flora.

Bucky had been recommended the place by Shangqi, Katy, and Wong - apparently, people in the magic community? Loved karaoke.

And Sam loved karaoke.

So, Bucky had begged for the secret passcode to get inside, the place filled with a variety of bars to choose from, yes, but there was an outdoor karaoke bar where the mechanical reindeer petting zoo once resided, the reindeer reconfigured into tables that looked more like bizarre art pieces in a strange statue garden, the sleigh the bar, and Santa's house losing its front wall to create a stage for the karaoke.

So, there Bucky and Sam found themselves, at "Rudolf's Lodge", Bucky sipping on his fifth Stay Out of My Forest cocktail as a man was booed off stage for a terrible rendition of "Upside Down" by Diana Ross, someone turning him into a frog, the poor man hopping off the stage with sad little ribbits.

Bucky tried not to panic.

He did not know the audience would be this intense about karaoke.

"You know what? I don't care how you found it. It's a pretty cool place. Interesting drinks. Thank you for finding it, babe," said Sam, glancing up at the screen above that said Sam was up next to sing.

"Um. Do you really want to go up there and sing?" asked Bucky, trying not to sound like he didn't believe in Sam, but also the crowd was turning people into frogs and emus and dusted warblers and Bucky didn't know how to take care of an alligator, what if they turned Sam into an alligator if he accidentally messed up one note?

What do alligators even eat?

Could you get alligator food at a store?

Sam rolled his eyes, patting Bucky's chest as he gave Bucky a peck that distracted Bucky for a second, but only that.

"I got this. You just sit there and look pretty," said Sam, winking as he walked over to the stage, people clapping as Sam got on stage, whispers from the crowd, probably people recognizing Captain America, and what had Sam chosen again for his song?

Maybe Sam shouldn't be going up there four drinks in, and Bucky knew it was hard to tell when Sam was drunk sometimes, he was good at keeping his cool, but Bucky could see the slight wobbling in Sam's form and, okay, maybe if it starts looking bad, Bucky will just - punch through a crowd of sorcerers, grab Sam, and run away.

That could work.

Bucky could fix this if it went bad.

But Sam just smiled at Bucky like he was the world, making Bucky's heart stutter, making him frozen on the spot because how could you do anything when you had the full attention of Sam Wilson.

"Hi!" said Sam a little too loud (definitely tipsy), giggling, eyes focused on Bucky, never leaving Bucky, Bucky feeling his face heating up, "My name is Sam Wilson. And this song is dedicated to my babe. The Buckarino. The Buckaroo - you know who I'm talking about. Let's start the song."

Sam said that to a crowd Bucky was sure did not know who "the Buckarino" was, and there were probably eyes on Bucky, but Bucky wasn't checking because the slow and easy yet captivating beat of "Location" by Khalid started to play, Bucky finding himself moving with Sam's swaying.

"Send me your location, let's; Focus on communicating; 'Cause I just need the time and place to come through (place to come through); Send me your location; Let's ride the vibrations; I don't need nothing else but you; (do not need nothing else but you)."

Bucky just got lost in Sam.

His voice.

The words.

The movements of his body.

His gap-toothed smile.

The way he held the microphone.

The way he kept staring at Bucky with those onyx odyssey hellebore eyes.

And before Bucky knew it, the crowd was clapping, and Sam had stepped off the stage, looking revitalized, bursting with energy off the high of the crowd cheering, pulling Bucky into a deep kiss.

"Thank you for this," said Sam, his forehead touching Bucky's

"I'm glad you like it," was all Bucky could say back, mind blank, thoughts only filled with Sam.

*****

❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Want to choose a date for Sam and Bucky to go on during this special February Daily SamBucky Fluff Diary event? Check out the prompts here and send me an ask! I’ll write you a drabble as one of my Daily SamBucky Fluff Diaries!

[mediocre-writerr]

betty [quinn fabray]

quinn fabray x fem reader

summary: the last part of my quinn fabray mini series! this takes place in the pov of quinn and her side of the story! enjoy : )

*not my gif*

“Quinny?” my mom poked her head through the door, “You got to get ready for school.” she says softly. 

I groaned as I shoved my head into a pillow. I didn’t want to go to school today or well ever for that matter. 

And you’re probably thinking: Quinn what teenager actually wants to go to school? 

i did...once. When I didn’t fuck up the best thing that ever happened to me. Meeting her at her locker, holding her hand down the hall, singing songs to her in glee club. All of it. But that’s all faded away like a moment in time. 

“Not today.” I mumble. 

“Quinn, honey, I let you miss so much school these past couple months. I need you to go just this once.” she whispers before closing the door. 

I let out another groan as I pulled the covers off my body. Stumbling my way into the bathroom. As I look in the mirror the pit that was in my stomach continued growing. 

I hated how I looked. I hated how I felt. I fucked up. It was all on me.

And it all started at junior prom.

“Love, dance with me!” Y/N yelled over the loud music that was playing, trying to pull me out of my seat at the table I was sitting at. 

I smiled widely at her enthusiasm before raising my eyebrows at her. She knows I hate the crowds. Sure, I was popular and wanted the attention.

But there’s a difference between walking down the hall like a bad ass than being trapped in a crowd of thousands, feeling like you’re suffocating and sweating.

“This is my favorite song.” she pouted when I gave her the look. 

I pulled the hand that she had in her hand closer to me. Giving it a sweet kiss, “Next dance, I promise.”

She pouts a little before running back off to the dance floor. I sat there drinking the spiked punch, letting the alcohol burn all the way down my throat and into my stomach. Leaving a warm sensation behind. 

I watched Y/N’s every move. She wasn’t very far away from where I was planted. Jumping up and down, doing crazy dance moves, with Sam. 

I love Sam with every bone in my body, but I was always jealous of the blonde boy. He was a nice guy, funny, good looking and super close to Y/N. 

“Looks like your girlfriend is having more fun with Sam, than she is with you.” Santana says, leaning against the chair I was sitting on.

“I don’t like the crowds. She knows that. She’s just trying to enjoy her prom.” I mumble, trying to ignore her snide remarks. 

Santana hums in response before taking a sip of her own punch, “Sure, let’s keep telling yourself that. And I’ll be the one saying ‘I told you so’ when she leaves you for him.” 

That was it. That’s what started my insecurities. 

Was I good enough for Y/N? Or will she find her own non-complicated love with Sam or Finn? Was Santana right?

After procrastinating for God knows how long, I finally made it to school. 

“Quinn!” Mercedes yelled getting my attention away from locker. 

I tried forcing on my best smile, “Hey what’s up?” 

“You’re coming to Y/N’s party tonight right? Everyone’s gonna be there! I don’t want you to miss it.” Mercedes said.

I shook my head looking down at my shoes, “No. I wasn’t planning on going. I don’t think she would want me there anyway.” I mumble.

Mercedes looked at me sympathetically, “Well I want you to come. Dig yourself out of the depressing hole you’re in and come hang out with people who care about you. Think about it, okay?” 

I nod before she goes running off to talk to Kurt. I open my locker and stare at the cardigan hanging off of one of the hooks. My eyes dart around my locker to see the pictures of the two of us hanging on the walls. 

I miss her.

The bell rings and I weave my way through the somewhat crowded walls and into my anatomy class for homeroom. I take my seat next to Jacob Ben Israel and sigh softly. 

“Alright class take your seats!” Mr. Barnson yells as he walks in the door, taking his bag off.

I look at the empty stool next to me. Y/N wasn’t in here today. She must’ve stayed home. I wish I could’ve, especially after what happened yesterday. 

“Jacob, you’re going to be Ms. Fabray’s new lab partner.” he says and I watch as Jacob’s eyes lighten up.

The afro-hair kid coming to sit next to me, “Can I smell your hair?” he asks, disturbingly. 

I shutter in disgust and raise my hand, “Yes Ms. Fabray?” 

“What happened to Y/N?” I ask.

“Ah, Ms. Y/L/N switched homerooms this morning.” he says nonchalantly while looking back at his list for attendance. 

Oh. 

The day went on and on, dragging like a bad movie that wouldn’t end. Until finally it did. 

I walked to school today. I’ve been walking to school the past couple months. It was a nice break to just clear my head and think about everything. Sometimes it hurt to do, but it was much needed. 

I didn’t want to go straight home today. I didn’t want to go home and just lock myself in my room, curling up into a ball of nothingness. So I walked around more. 

“Quinn? Do you need a ride?” I hear a voice ask.

I turn towards the voice to see Mike and Tina in his car, “No thanks. I think I’m just gonna walk.” 

“Okay. Well we’ll see you tonight, right? We all miss hanging out with you.” he suggests.

“I don’t know.” I say looking anywhere, but them.

“You should.” Tina says before the light turns green and they drive off with a wave. 

I continued walking until I found myself at the mall need Breadstix. I hate the mall. 

I used to love going there with Santana and Brittany back during sophomore year of high school. When I was dating Finn and head Cheerio, but now it just reminds me of everything that went wrong. 

When my insecurity was at its greatest peak. 

“Hello beautiful!” I say as I answer Y/N’s phone call, walking through the mall. 

“Hi love! I miss you so much.” she whispers and I smile softly.

I hear rustling coming from her side of the phone, another girl’s voice, “I miss you more.” I say softly, “Who are you with?”

“Oh I’m with my friend Lizzie. She’s also a intern here and we’re just having dinner! She’s really cool!” Y/N said excitedly.

The rest of the conversation was about her internship and the amazing stuff she was learning and the new people she was meeting. How much she was having.

I should have been happy for her, but all I could think about what was, how much her life is better without me? What a fun life she could have without me? 

I left the mall that I was once walking in and nothing seemed good enough to buy. I was getting closer to my house as I was walking on the broken cobblestone. Just thinking about her.

How much I just want her to come back home and into my arms. How much I want her to let me know that I’m the only one she wants and that I am good enough for her.

Someone’s car came by slowing down next to me as they rolled their window down, pulling me out of my thoughts. Santana was sitting in the driver’s seat with her sunglasses on. Her usual high pony was down which revealed her curly brunette hair. 

She looked like a figment of my worst intentions. Her lips stained with a dark red lipstick and the way she was eyeing me. It just sent shivers down my spine. 

“Quinn, get in, let’s drive.” 

And those four words was all it took. Well four words and a human full of loneliness. 

A car honks shaking me from that terrible terrible memory. Leaving me with a mind and head full of thoughts. 

Should I go to the party tonight? Will she want me there? Will I regret not going? 

There’s two ways me going would play out.

1.) I would get there and she would open the door and slam it on my face. Then she would open it again just to tell me to go fuck myself. 

I shutter at the thought of the most likely scenario. The sun was setting turning the sky into a cotton candy looking sky. What a beautiful sky for a stressful decision. 

Santana laid next to me on the grassy field of my backyard. It was a cotton candy color as the orange hue blended with the dreamy blue. 

I spent the week driving around with Santana. We would go exploring the small town in Lima or just drive around singing to random songs. 

We laid there in silence just staring up at the sky. She took my hand in hers intertwining them together. And in that moment I didn’t care. I wanted to feel something, anything. 

Anything besides this pit of loneliness. 

She turned her head towards mine. And in a beat her lips were on mine. It was soft at first yet passionate. Then the next thing I knew, clothes were flying off, and hands were roaming. 

2.) Y/N opens the door and sees me standing there. I apologize for everything, she leads me to our spot in the backyard. And kiss me in front of everyone. 

Yeah like that would ever fucking happen. 

I didn’t know what I was expecting when Y/N came back from Pennsylvania. After the many nights spent with Santana, I dropped her. Or well ghosted her I should say.

I didn’t answer her calls or her texts. I knew what I did was wrong and I decided to just end it before things could get any worse. 

Was it fucked up? 

Yes, but I did what I had to try and salvage what I had left in our relationship.

I thought I could get away with it too. Until the guilt started eating me alive. The pit in my stomach wasn’t loneliness, it was guilt. 

And then Santana told Brittany. Brittany told Artie. Artie told Tina. Tina told Mike. Mike told Puck. Puck told Mercedes. Mercedes told Kurt. Kurt told Blaine. Blaine told Rachel. Rachel told Finn. Finn told Sam. Then finally, Rachel told Y/N since no one else had the heart to. 

Y/N slammed my locker shut causing me to flinch back, “Tell me she’s lying.” she whispers, her voice breaking. 

“Who’s lying love? What happened?” I say attempting to take her in my arms, but she took a step back.

“Tell me that you didn’t hook up with Santana while I was gone. And that it’s some weird vendetta against you.” she whispers staring at me. 

I couldn’t lie to her anymore. It was killing me. I didn’t want to lie anymore. I just needed to tell her. 

I just stared at her desperately trying to find an explanation. Desperately trying to apologize and explain everything to her, but no words came out.

“Y/N-”

“You did didn’t you?” Y/N asked barely in a whisper.

I nodded sadly and a sob escaped her lips. 

“Y/N please let me-” I try to say and she shakes her head.

“No. We’re done Quinn!” she yells in between sobs running off. 

I looked up and found myself in front of Y/N’s house. 

I wasn’t trying to go here. I guess my feet just carried me here. The party was in full swing and through her window I could see her just sitting there, nursing a cup. 

Her favorite song was playing and she wasn’t dancing. She was just sitting there, trying to smile, but was struggling too. 

It hurt me, knowing that I’m the reason for her pain. 

I hesitantly knocked on the door and the door flung open. Y/N was standing there and she was shocked, but her eyes softened. But it didn’t matter anymore because she covered it up with a harder shell. 

She came out and stepped onto the porch, closing the door behind her.

“Happy birthday.” I whisper.

She mumbles, “Thanks.” 

“Can we talk please?” I ask.

She was thinking about it. I could tell. Her eyes were furrowed and she was biting her lip. She looked in deep thought before nodding and leading me to the backyard garden.

There was a bench swing hanging from the trees. And we took a seat on there together. 

This is the spot. Our spot. 

We had our first kiss here. I asked her to be my girlfriend here. Everything happened right here. 

“Y/N I’m sorry. And before you say anything I know. I know sorry means nothing and it has no excuse for what I did. But I am so deeply sorry. I don’t know much and I don’t have much to say because I wasn’t expecting to come tonight But I do know that I miss you and you were the best thing that has ever happened to me.” I whisper letting all of the tears spill. 

She lets out a shaky sigh, “I know. I forgive you.” 

I smile softly and I try to lean in to kiss her, but she immediately pulls back. Leaving me embarrassed and heartbroken.

“Just because I forgive you doesn’t mean that I want to get back together. I know you know that what you did was wrong. And I trust you when you say that it wasn’t anything special. But it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. I love you Quinn Fabray, but I just can’t do this right now.” she whispers back.

She begins to wipe away the tears from my cheeks. I took in a deep breath before embracing the feeling of her touch. Y/N closes her eyes and rests her forehead on top of mine. 

I cup her cheeks into my hands. My thumb trying to memorize all of the crevasse, cheek bones, every little feature. 

“I will always love you and maybe we’ll be together one day. Just not today.” she whispers pulling away and kissing my cheek softly, “Goodbye Quinn.” 

[tlcwrites]

Wash-Worn

Submission for Writer Wednesday 5/19

Summary: How do you let go of the person who means the most?

Word Count: 976 this was supposed to be a drabble y'all I am ridiculous.

Tags/Content warnings: Sam Wilson x Fem Reader. SFW. Grief/mourning, loss of significant other. Post-Blip/Infinity War. All aboard the angst train.

Author’s Note: Sorry, @autumnleaves1991-blog and @clydesducktape, my Writer Wednesday submissions are apparently going to come months after the actual challenge prompt but like two months for me is pretty quick and I'm taking it as a win.

OMG I FINALLY WROTE MOSTLY CANON-COMPLIANT MARVEL yes my timeline is slightly tweaked but fuck it the same way the Russos fucked Endgame. I am SO exited to have finally written for Sam; he's one of the characters I've been dying to write for a while, but I didn't want to write him until I was sure I could do justice to him. The best character in the entire MCU deserves nothing less. I'm really, really proud of how this turned out. I also made myself cry twice while writing this, and @paper-n-ashes cried while she was beta reading it for me. #winning

Fold. Box. Next.

Tee shirts. Button downs.

Fold. Box. Next.

Pullovers. Flannels.

Fold. Box. Next.

Workout tops. His collection of USAF shirts.

Fold. Box. Next.

You hesitate.

One of the USAF sweatshirts comes back out of the box.

It’s the one he always wore on quiet Saturdays spent lazing around the apartment. The dulcet tones of Gladys Knight, or Jackie Wilson, or his beloved Marvin Gaye would provide the soundtrack as you fried the potatoes and scrambled the eggs. He was responsible for baking the french toast (his mother’s recipe). You’d sit together in your dining nook, the sunlight painting the table in burnished gold, teasing him as he stole bites of sweet potato off your plate.

After you’d washed the dishes together- he always washed, you always dried- you’d move to the living room, curling up together on the sofa. He’d toy with your hair while he read whatever biography had struck his fancy that week, and you’d grade papers and quizzes, safely tucked under his arm.

Sometimes, the book would end up on his stomach, his head resting against the back of the couch as he snored softly. Those were your favorite mornings. You’d set aside your papers, cover you both with the quilt Riley’s mom had made you as a wedding present, and snuggle against his chest, luxuriating the simplicity of coexistence without expectation.

The tears you can’t seem to stop speckle the wash-worn sweatshirt.

Your therapist has been insistent that holding on to the past, to him, will only make your healing harder. Cleaning out his things is somehow supposed to help with building your new normal.

But how can you build a new life when you can’t fathom leaving behind the one you shared? Well-meant platitudes don’t dull the sting when you roll over in bed and his pillow is empty. No amount of offers to visit your sister-in-law and your nephews distracts from the ache that you’ll never get to see him hold your baby, his baby, who now will remain only a dream. Nothing, nothing, takes away the pain when you start to text him from the grocery store to ask if you’re out of orange juice, and remember with a jolt that there won’t ever be an answer again.

You’d wept next to the bulk food bins, your basket spilled where it fell.

No more of his beaming smiles with that adorable gap between his front teeth. No more impromptu dance parties in the kitchen, when he’d sing along with whatever song was playing and pull you into his arms, swaying with you between the island and the fridge. No more finding post-its with terrible jokes or sweet messages stuck to your lesson plans. No more watching him repair Redwing at the kitchen table, the tools and parts a foreign language to you but second nature to him.

No more of his sarcastic quips, no more of his thoughtful counsel, no more watching him effortlessly draw everyone, everyone he encounters into his warmth and light. No more feeling his lips brush your temple, the quietest ‘love you, baby, be back soon’ whispered against your hair before he leaves for his morning run. No more seeing him perched on the back stoop, his head in his hands, because no matter how much he wants to help everyone, needs to help everyone, being the strength and stay for so many wears heavy on even the strongest of shoulders. No more building him back up when he is sure he’s failed. No more feeling him beside you, above you, inside you, taking you apart with sinful accuracy before putting you back together in his embrace.

You’d barely gotten him back from his exile. And now he’s gone, a life erased, and all that remains are your memories and an old sweatshirt. How are you supposed to say goodbye to the other half of your soul?

He’d want you to let him go. You know he would. It’s what you would want for him if the situation was reversed and he was the one left behind. You can practically hear him, that wry chuckle and his honeyed voice.

What would you want me to do? he’d say, ever the counselor. Would you want me to give up? Would you want me to let my grief consume me until I was just a shadow of myself? Or would you want me to live a full life, a long and happy life, even if you weren’t there to see it?

Of course, you know the answer.

It's not disloyal to move forward, baby. It doesn't mean you don't love me anymore. It means that you know I’ll always be in your heart like you’re in mine. It means it’s okay to let me go.

You’re not sure how long you kneel there, clutching the sweatshirt to your chest as a desperate anchor against this new agonizing reality.

It’s okay, baby. You can do this. I know you can. And you know you can.

Deep breath.

Deep breath.

Fold.

Box.

Next.

Nat helps you take the boxes to the refugee center. You cry the whole way there and back, but somehow feel lighter having done it.

And slowly, you start to emerge from the darkness.

You meet Steve for breakfast on Saturdays. You get through your grocery shopping without any breakdowns. You bake cupcakes for the hell of it. You bring home flowers for the kitchen table. You start teaching again. You spend a week with Sarah and the boys in Delacroix, and only cry twice.

It’s slow, and painful, and at times feels impossible. But channeling his endless determination, you start to heal. Your therapist tells you how proud she is of your progress at every visit.

She never needs to know that you wear the sweatshirt to bed every night, long after it ceases to smell like him.

A/N: I warned you.

[superbadassnatural]

Humanity and Its Perks

Summary: Castiel has fallen and Y/N decided to show him the pleasures of human life. Square filled: Fallen!Cas Pairing: Fallen!Castiel x Winchester!reader Word count: 1,165 Warnings: mention of smut, fluff,  A/N: this was written for @spntfwbingo. This is also my first time writing for Cas and I really enjoyed it. Hope you enjoy it as well.

(x)

The human world had always been foreign to Castiel. He had tried to understand it so many times, but every time there was something he couldn’t get. For him, humans felt too much. They were driven by their ambitions. They were weird creatures. Castiel didn’t bother though. He didn’t have to figure out every single detail of human beings. He didn’t live with them so there was no reason to learn much about them.

Castiel used to think like that until he had to grip Dean Winchester tight and raise him from perdition. He pulled the righteous man from Hell and since then his life hasn’t been the same. He did everything he could to stay away from the Winchesters, but every now and then he'd have to get them out of trouble. In fact, the angel started to think that the word trouble was short for Winchester. Every time Castiel happened to meet with the siblings, they’d talked some sense into him. They made Castiel both understand and question humanity even more.

As the years went by, Castiel and the Winchesters not only became friends but a family. He was welcomed into the Men of Letters Bunker with open arms. He even had his own room, although he didn’t need it because angels don’t sleep. The Winchesters knew that, but they wanted to make Castiel feel at home.

His friendship and alliance with Sam and Dean were strong. He knew the boys had his back no matter what. He had theirs too. The problem for Castiel was you, the youngest Winchester. Sam and Dean’s beloved half-sister. The angel had a soft spot for you. You made him feel something he had never felt before.

The brothers had found out about you six months after your father’s death. You were only sixteen. Your mom had died of brain cancer. The last thing she said to you was to call the number she had written on the paper she kept on her drawer. Your dad’s number. You called and Sam answered. After the phone call, Sam and Dean hit the road and drove from the motel they were staying in Ohio to your house in Texas. They explained everything to you about hunting. You had two options: DCS or coming with them and that meant being on the road and sleeping in crappy motel rooms. You chose them. You knew you’d be safer with them.

You suffered immeasurably when Dean went to hell. The day he knocked on Bobby’s door was one of the best days of your life. Then you met Cas. He was insanely handsome and so damn attractive and so off-limits. He’s an angel of the Lord for Christ’s sake. As time passed, both of you grew closer to each other. It didn’t take much for you to fall in love with him. After what felt like forever, you figured Cas had feelings for you too. Then you’d sneak around with him every chance you got. If your brothers caught you, you would be screwed. They never did though.

Things started to get messy when Castiel fell. He was lost and he couldn’t reach out to the Winchesters. After a few days, Castiel found them and they brought him home.

When you learned Cas had fallen, you felt terrible for him. Then there was a small — and extremely selfish — part of you was happy about it. Cas would get to experience human things. He would understand how it feels like to be human. And you would do anything to help him with that.

“How’d you sleep?” you asked as you noticed his beautiful blue eyes flutter open.

“Really good,” he nodded. “Sleeping is nice.”

“Did you dream?”

“I did. I remember I was-“

“Nope,” you stopped him, placing your index finger on his plump lips. His eyes widened in surprise. “Don’t tell me just yet. It’s bad luck telling a dream before eating anything,” you explained. “C’mon, let's get some coffee and some real crispy bacon in that belly.”

Castiel ate breakfast quietly. Except for the moans that escaped his lips every time he took a bite of bacon. He was amazed by how good eating actually is.

You helped him try so many different things in the last five days. Cas really enjoyed chocolate. His new favorite thing now is binge-watching 'Orange Is the New Black' while eating pizza. You had gotten Cas drunk on his second night as a human in the bunker. Let’s just say that you and your brothers now love drunk Cas. You had given him a massage and he was so relaxed he ended up falling asleep.

Castiel knew Sam and Dean must be suspecting how close you and he were in the last few days. Truth is he’s almost sure your brothers knew about you two. And he didn’t care.

You were used to cuddling with Cas at night now. Sleeping with his arms wrapped around you became something you didn’t know you needed.

Eventually, you ended up having sex with him. Cas was just amazing. At first, you thought he’d be shy, but he was anything but that. Somehow he knew exactly what to do to have you screaming. His tongue did a marvelous job to your body. And you’d never thought you’d actually enjoy having someone on top of you. You were so used to being on top that you expected to not like it. But there was something different about Cas and the way he made you feel.

He was gentle but also rough when he had to. He made sure to make you feel good. Cas’s face when pleasure coursed through him was something you’d never forget. His blue eyes locked with yours and his pink lips parted in an ‘o’ shape.

You were panting in bed. Eyes glued on the ceiling as you tried to steady your breath. Still, you couldn’t shake the smile off your face.

Castiel stood up, dumped the condom on the trash, and approached you with a washcloth. He cleaned you up and smiled at you.

“You’re beautiful, you know that right?” he said, before laying beside you.

You both laid in silence, waiting for your breaths to even.

“This was-“

“Awesome,” you beamed.

You snuggled closer to him. His arms wrapped around your body. His fingers traced up and down your back, soothing you. Your arm draped over his stomach and your head resting on his chest.

“Do you think Sam and Dean know about us?” his voice was low and reluctant.

“I think they do, but that’s okay with them I guess,” you shrugged. “Lucky for us the bunker’s walls are soundproof or they’d actually try to kill you.”

“Yeah, they would,” he chuckled before kissing the top of your head. “No matter your age, they’ll always see you as their innocent baby sister.”

“Good thing I can be naughty with you, handsome,” you smiled, pecking his lips.

“Yeah, a good thing indeed.”

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@maya-craziness​

[some-lists]

Top 10 Greatest Shows From Nickelodeon’s SNICK

Since I’ve done so many lists on Disney, I thought I should do a throwback list on Nickelodeon. SNICK was Nickelodeon’s Saturday prime time lineup during the 90’s and 00’s. It aired every Saturday night.

Many different shows aired throughout its run, but these ten were the best.

10. KaBlam!

KaBlam! was a sketch comedy cartoon show created specifically for SNICK. It featured a variety of cartoon sketches including Action League Now, Life With Loopy, Prometheus and Bob, and many more. Many of the cartoons used alternative animation commonly used in indie films, such as stop motion animation and cutout photo animation. The humor was definitely on the darker side, as was most of Nickelodeon’s cartoons at the time.

9. Space Cases

Space Cases was a kids version of Star Trek and Lost in Space. It featured a kid crew who sneak aboard a ship and get lost in space. Some of the kids were aliens with special powers, like super strength and hearing, electricity blasts, and a supersonic scream. It featured Walter Jones (the Black Power Ranger) and Jewel Staite (Kaylee from Firefly). It was definitely cheesy but a fun show with a little bit of suspense thrown in.

8. Clarissa Explains It All

Na na na na! This show follows Clarissa as she explains everything in her life directly to the viewers. She has a rivalry with her younger brother Ferguson. Every day she gets a visit from her best friend Sam, who climbs through her bedroom window using a ladder. Clarissa Explains It All was Nick’s first show with a female lead. It’s success paved the way for many more to come.

7. GUTS

Before American Ninja Warrior, there was Nickelodeon GUTS. Hosted by Mike O’Malley, each episode featured three kids running through various obstacle courses. Each episode ended with all three climbing The Crag, a rock climbing fixture with various buttons the competitors had to push to earn points. The one with the most points who reached the top first won the episode. It was lots of fun.

6. Are You Afraid of the Dark?

A bunch of kids gathered around a campfire telling scary stories was a concept behind Are You Afraid of the Dark? Each episode featured a different spooky tale. Some of them were more silly than scary. But some were legitimately creepy.

5. Animorphs

Based on the popular book series, Animorphs was about a group of teenagers given the power to morph into animals to fight invading aliens. It was a combination of The X-Files, Power Rangers, and National Geographic. It was darker and more suspenseful than other Nickelodeon shows. Unfortunately, it was limited by the technology of the time and lasted only two seasons. A real shame as the books were fantastic.

4. The Mystery Files of Shelby Woo

The Mystery Files of Shelby Woo was a great show ahead of its time. It was about a teenage girl who interns at a police station. She can’t help but try to solve the mysteries that come in. The show follows her as she finds clues, suspects, and allows the viewer to try to solve the case along with Shelby Woo. It was a rare gem that featured an Asian American actress in the lead role. Mr. Miyagi Pat Morita also starred as Shelby’s grandfather.

3. The Secret World of Alex Mack

The Secret World of Alex Mack was about a junior high school teen who was accidentally covered in a mysterious chemical. That chemical gave her special abilities to shoot electricity from her fingers, telekinesis, and to turn into a puddle of water. It sounds really weird, but it was a really good show. It featured Jessica Alba in one of her first roles as a mean girl at Alex’s school.

2. Kenan & Kel

Kenan & Kel was a spinoff series starring All That stars Kenan Thompson and Kel Mitchell as best friends. Kenan was the schemer who came up with crazy ways to get rich, and Kel was his goofy best friend roped into every terrible plan. Of course, chaos and hilarity always followed. It’s running gags were Kel’s undeniable love for orange soda and ending each episode with “Aww here it goes!”

1. All That

All That will always be the greatest Nickelodeon show. It was a sketch comedy show for kids, starring kids. It was gut busting funny. The writing was really smart and the kids were crazy talented. It launched the careers of Kenan Thompson, Amanda Bynes, Nick Cannon, and Gabriel Iglesias. But the first two seasons and the original cast will always be the best. It featured spoofs of Oprah, Ross Perot, Superman, Steve Urkel, and more. Its best segments were Good Burger, Ear Boy, the Loud Librarian, and Vital Information. It was so successful it launched spinoff series Kenan & Kel, The Amanda Show, and Good Burger became its own feature film released in theaters.

[mst3kproject]

The Equinox

'Aleczilla51297′ appears to have made a tumblr purely for the purpose of telling me I need to review Equinox and Godzilla vs Hedorah.  I decided to do Equinox first because I’ve already seen Godzilla vs Hedorah, which is one of the preachier Godzilla movies but does have that hilarious bit where the big guy flies by using his atomic breath as a rocket.  If Equinox turns out to be a #fuck this movie entry, then Godzilla can act as a sort of a palate-cleanser.  And so, without further ado:

Something blows up, a woman called Susan dies, and a dude gets run down by a driverless car.  My Dad would feel vindicated – he finds the whole idea of self-driving cars untrustworthy.  The victim, whose name is David Fielding, ends up in a mental hospital, where he tells his story to a psychiatrist.  Seems that Dave, his pal Jim, Jim’s girlfriend Vicky, and Vicky’s friend Susan, headed up into the mountains for a picnic with their old teacher Dr. Waterman. These people are all idiots.

The four young people arrive to find Waterman’s cabin destroyed and a creepy old man living in a cave nearby, who gives them a locked book. Because the characters don’t know they’re in a bad movie, they don’t realize that the book is clearly the fucking Necronomicon, and decide to crack it open and read it while they eat their KFC. To nobody’s surprise, they’re soon being chased around the countryside by dumb stop-motion monsters.  At the end everybody’s dead but Dave, who’s in the mental hospital waiting for the fulfillment of a prophecy that said he would die a year and a day after the original events, but that’s not a spoiler because it was the opening scene.

Let’s go over the shit that happens when these four clowns arrive at Dr. Waterman’s.  The cabin’s destroyed and the park ranger who discusses it with them says his name is Asmodeus.  Does that sound like a signal you should get the hell out of there?  No?  Okay, how about when they find a castle they can’t remember being there before?  Still no?  Well then, on their way to the castle (which later vanishes behind a wall of invisibility, probably because they couldn’t afford interior sets), they come across a cave with Green Goblin laughter echoing out of it, and weird velociraptor footprints all around.  Would you leave, or would you light up some torches and go check it out?  What about when you find a partially-mummified corpse in the cave?

The whole first ten minutes of the flashback that comprises most of the narrative is a litany of things I’m pretty sure anybody would flee from in real life.  I don’t believe much in the supernatural but if I saw all that I would be sure that multiple crimes had been committed and that I wanted no part of it.  The characters of Equinox, however, insist on investigating themselves, and continue to make stupid, stupid decisions for the entire run time.  Yes, let’s all go in a group to check and make sure the monster is dead.  Let’s hang around and bury the bodies ourselves instead of getting back to civilization for a police report and a good stiff drink.  Let’s collect the picnic stuff before we leave because that basket cost at least $15 at Wal-Mart.  It’s the kind of movie where you start to get annoyed that the characters aren’t dying fast enough.  When we finally get back to the opening shot I mainly felt relief that the movie was almost over.

The MST3K movie Equinox most reminds me of is The Day Time Ended: there are people in the middle of nowhere and, for some reason, a bunch of random stop-motiony things happen that never actually add up to a story.  Stuff comes and goes without serving any purpose other than to be creepy.  Who was Crazy Cave Guy?  I at first assumed he was the missing Dr. Waterman but Waterman turns up later and immediately dies, so what’s going on with this other guy?  What’s about the cave mummy… who was that?  Was the man who showed up to snatch the book actually Dr. Waterman or just a demon in his form?  Why is there a random graveyard in the middle of the woods?  Why does the psychiatrist have a creepy monster mask on his wall?  What’s up with Asmodeus apparently trying to rape Susan without even unbuttoning his pants, and later possessing her so that she does the same thing to Vicky?

Dialogue specifies that Dr. Waterman was a geologist, which seems an odd choice for somebody to be translating ancient documents.  I mean, there’s no reason why a geologist can’t have a side interest in ancient manuscripts, but when a movie takes the trouble to tell you something like that there’s usually a reason why.  Geology is never important to the plot, even tangentially.

It must be said that Equinox makes slightly more sense than The Day Time Ended, in that we’re actually given a reason why these events are happening.  Dr. Waterman had acquired and translated the Necronomicon and could not control the demons he summoned (I am convinced that Sam Raimi saw Equinox when he was around twelve and thought, shit, I could make a better movie than this!).  A huge tentacle creature destroyed his cabin, and then there’s the sabre-toothed ogre, the giant green caveman, and of course, the devil himself.  These creatures have a motivation: they are determined to get the book back, whether through force or persuasion.  The events could still happen in any order, but it all has a common core, rather than being just a collection of Concepts.

In capable hands this story could be made to work (see previous parentheses), but sadly none of the hands involved in making Equinox were remotely capable.  The acting is abysmal, mostly just people standing around awkwardly reciting their lines. All the dialogue was then dubbed over in post-production, which makes it even more stiff and awkward.  There’s a bit where a guy reads a letter as if he has to sound out each word.  The direction and music are bland.  Even the costumes are awful.  You’d think it would be hard to fuck up costumes in a movie set in the present, but it looks like everyone just turned up to set in their street clothes and they went with that.  Good costuming can tell us a lot about characters but the outfits here say nothing. Also, both Vicky and Susan are blondes in blue shirts, and once Susan’s hair falls out of its bun they’re basically indistinguishable.

The characters have no discernable personalities.  How they react to things changes from scene to scene, with nobody’s motives clear.  The only thing that remains constant is Jim wanting to leave while Dave always wants to stay and take care of something or other.  Stuff happens that could result in character development but none of it is ever followed up.  The most notable example is when Dave feels terrible guilt over having apparently killed Dr. Waterman, but this is forgotten a few minutes later and we never even find out if the dead man were really Dr. Waterman.

The effects are uniformly bad, but not usually enough so to be entertaining in themselves.  The castle is an obvious matte painting and the stuff on the other side of the portal, whether it’s Hell or the Dark Dimension or I don’t even know, is just the same spot in the woods with an orange filter over it.  There’s a stupid spinning thing used to represent Asmodeus exercising assorted dark powers.  The devil and the sabre-toothed ogre are both stiff and shitty stop-motion puppets.  The animation is surprisingly competent for a movie with the budget of Jr. High drama club, but they’re still not good.  The one exception is the giant green caveman, which looks dumb but is quite convincing as occupying space and interacting with the characters.

One might expect that this movie would be about the temptation of evil.  The monsters in it are summoned using a book of dark knowledge, and in trying to get the book back Asmodeus offers Jim anything he wants – money, prestige, women, you name it.  Problem is, there’s never any sign that the main characters are in fact tempted.  The crazy guy in the cave wants nothing from the book except to get rid of it.  He passes it on to Dave and Jim with evident glee.  Dr. Waterman’s interest in it, according to his notes, was purely scientific.  He summoned demons just to see if he could do it, but he doesn’t appear to have gained anything thereby except the knowledge that it works.  The main characters never even attempt to use the book, even to get themselves out of this mess, they just run around trying to keep it out of the hands of the monsters.  I’d say it’s like if every character in The Lord of the Rings was book-Faramir, but only a colossal nerd would use an example like that.

Honestly, I think this movie was about the wrong characters.  Dr. Waterman’s process of discovering the book and learning to use it, only to realize he’s unleashed things he cannot control, would probably have been a much more interesting story.  The characters from this film could have shown up at the end to fish the book out of the mess, with the implication that they will be its next victims.  This would have been a much better way to explore the ideas of temptation, making a Faust-like character out of Waterman as he is tempted not by riches or fame, but by knowledge and power.

Equinox is not quite #fuck this movie bad.  In order to earn that tag, a film has to be unwatchably dull and/or morally repugnant. I didn’t have any trouble sitting through Equinox but I also didn’t really enjoy the experience.  As movies about demonic forces go, it’s pretty bland and nothing much really seems to happen.  I guess that means I have to forgive Aleczilla51297 for sending it to me, but I’m still looking really forward to a Godzilla film or two.

[ughgclden]

bee, love, i am so happy you had a good first day, you deserve calm and loving days, and you deserve people, deserve friends. i’m so happy for you.

as for apologising, i’m a terrible hypocrite every time i tell you not to worry about it, as i also apologise for anything, most notably existing, but i want you to know you don’t have to apologise to me, i understand the impulse but there’s no obligation or anything.

i’m glad you’re feeling better, and that it was just a little ick, well not glad that you were ick but glad it wasn’t too bad.

when it comes to being in welton, i fantasise a lot about these things, i think something especially about boarding schools is appealing to me. being away. that’s why my plans are new york or wales or if my friend is to be believed, quebec. sometimes though, those realities all feel more and more like tissue paper soaked in water, just waiting for a reason to fall apart

i read really quickly, it’s probably an issue, i read red white and royal blue in about an hour and fifteen minutes. neil and i. kindred spirits. today at lunch i watched the last thirty minutes of dead poets society, going back to rewatch “i was good, i was really good.” like ten times.

imposter syndrome is slowly getting the better of me.

i actually dressed up as leia for the midnight premiere of the force awakens. i’m that person. if i’d been with you in the cinema i would have cried too, you’re not alone there, i cried watching it on the floor.

i don’t deserve the nice words you give me, but i’m happy i make you feel comfy and cosy, and ironically enough, writing with a quill or fountain pen never ends in pristine and unsmudged ink, you can thank my being left handed for that. i think there’s something nice about writing with fancy pens, maybe that makes me seem pretentious as well. oh well.

as for dps tattoos, if i can ever get any tattoos, i want the neil crown, “i was good, i was really good.” somewhere, probably my wrist who knows, and some art that alludes to the first unmanned flying desk set. among others. the “and still we sleep” thought, and the outline of meeks and pitts both sound so lovely. so so lovely. i really hope you can get every tattoo you wish. although your bank account may hate me for saying so /j i want more piercings, mainly on my ears, i have something of an earring addiction, my favourite pair at the moment is probably my howl drop earrings that look like howls from howls moving castle.

honestly the outfit/hair colour distraction rule is dumb. it’s dumb. i just don’t get it. abuse of power ig. and yeah. we were like hugging and sorta just leaning on each other while talking and the administrator got angry, for whatever reason. the straight couple making out behind us, she didn’t seem to mind, however. it’s dumb, and im glad i don’t go there anymore.

im clearly very articulate today (sarcasm) my mind is ehhhhhhhhhhh and feels like a squirrel laying on its stomach.

maybe i will call you ramona flowers, bee /j did you know the original name for pac man was puck man… /j hiding in the back of the music room to avoid a maths test sounds like something i would do. i say this, knowing full well that i’m such a neil kinnie that i end up feeling like a teachers pet because i want to do well, both for myself and simply to avoid trouble with my mum.

a new york times best seller, huh? well if i ever publish anything i’ll dedicate it to you, both for being the only person who thought i could be a storyteller, but also for being a lovely person in general.

sometimes one day after another feels impossible. tomorrow feels impossible. but oh well. i think younger me would be disappointed, to some degree. on the other hand, i think they’d think it’s cool how much i know. if nothing else, they’d love that i have a typewriter. also, i’m sure young you would be proud of you, i am. i’m so proud of you.

i mean bee, i could teach you to shoot a bow /hj YOU CAN WIELD A SWORD????? here i was thinking you could not possibly get cooler or hotter omg i’m in love /hj

thank you for being proud of me, really bee, thank you. and thank you for being the only one. i’m hardly changing the world, but i guess if i don’t burn out and lose this fight, changing a few points of views in the process of growing wouldn’t be terrible.

p.s. it’s certainly something, i feel bad because i always pull away from people when i get numb and it’s so new that me doing that could be detrimental to everything, but me forcing myself not to could have a bad effect on me. who knows what’ll happen. i’m just gonna try and keep them happy no matter what.

p. p. s. bee you brought this upon yourself /lh

all my love, bee, and that pun was the out of this world part of that sentence. you’re so cute omg.

that quote is beautiful, and since i, once again, had to translate french and smile about it, i’ll leave you with this

no importa que nos separe la distancia, siempre habrá un mismo cielo que nos una.

p.p.p.s. thank you for saying what you do, and i know that i don’t owe you anything, but writing to you is easy, and makes me happy, when i manage to get myself to sit down and think about it. i’m sending you back hugs, gentle forehead kisses and mugs of tea, a soft blanket and a narnia movie marathon, where we argue about how i am definitely not better than susan pevensie, but you almost certainly might be.

i’m so happy uni is going well thus far, love. and i hope you love your classes. learning.

thank you for everything bee.

yours, always,

star✨

star sweetheart, thank you so so much, honestly. i can't tell you how much that means - i know you said not to apologise, but an apology seems in order for the lateness of this message- im terrible i know /lh thank you sm though.

i'm writing this whilst listening to one of my favourite albums (hypersonic missiles by sam fender, if you were curious) and curled up in bed, so this really adds to the comforting vibes.

i'm with you on that, boarding schools do have a certain something about them, don't they? i hope you can get to one or all of these places in your life - i can speak from experience wales is especially beautiful, but i can really see you in new york, too. wherever you end up star, i truly hope you're happy there.

an hour and fifteen mins?!!? the fastest i've read something was a clockwork orange in two and a half hours or so- you are so strong star, i've watched that film 20+ times and only watched the last half an hour maybe 4 /lh

that is SO CUTE oh my god- i will admit, for it chapter two i did channel my inner bill denbrough and wore some flannel (i luv that limbo <3)

you deserve all of these words and more, i promise you. you deserve something a lot less clumsy, but i offer you my best. left handed.. you rly are neil huh? /j

all of those ideas; absolutely lovely. the i was good tattoo breaks my heart in the best way possible. im hoping you get all of these tattoos, love. you'd suit them more than anyone, i'm sure. those earrings sound like the coolest fucking things ever? i did have a pair that had a little vodka bottle on, but i lost one in a club and haven't gotten round to replacing them. i definitely want more piercings too,, my conch is looking pretty bare as of late...

that is just. so disgusting? im so- god that makes me so angry i can't even explain. i think i should punch all homophobes straight in the mouth, actually /hj

love, i bet younger you would be so so proud of all you've achieved. from only what you've told me, i am. they'd be over the moon at how intellectual, kind and strong you are, i know it.

I CAN!!! ITS ONE OF MY MOST ESTEEMED TALENTS!!! lets make a deal. you teach me to shoot a bow, i teach you to wield a sword.. we're giving very narnia power couple if i may say.. /hj

i will always be proud of you star, for even the smallest of things you achieve. you're actively making a difference and a change, take bringing this positivity into my life for example. you've got this, star. i know you have.

ps; im wishing you all the best my love, seriously. take every day as it comes, and listen to your mind and wellbeing. im sending you so much love

pps; that quote. is so fucking cute. god im breaking down,, its so pretty and so DHJHFJKNFKKN yeah.

this is me, making you a cup of coffee and your favourite comfort meal, with a kiss on the top of the head. we will have this argument - as much as i love susan, she's no match for you <33

all of my love and happiness, star. you truly are one of a kind.

if i may, i'd like to leave you with an excerpt from a poem i saw earlier that i fell in love with;

"and you laugh. / loudly- / head tipping back. / and while your eyes / are on the ceiling, / i am mouthing / something too heavy even / for this steady night to shoulder. / "this is not a joke." i mouth. / "love me. love me." - letters from medea, salma deera

[regrettablewritings]

If you are so inclined. I’m in love with the way you write for one Dewey Finn. So. Perhaps letters F, M, O, and W?

Heehee~ Welcome to the cult, fledgling :3

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?):

Dewey knows he’s in love when he realizes he’s growing beyond himself.

He’s a pretty forward guy at first glance: He’s loud, he’s impulsive, he lives his life according to the rules of rock ‘n roll. So you wouldn’t be blamed for buying into the idea that he’s about as confident as he acts, completely forgetting the fact that Dewey is, in fact, very low on actual self-esteem deep down. He knows he’s not the tallest, he knows he’s no Adonis by any means (hell, he’s lucky if he can even be considered a Dionysus at this point), and even though he’s aware that realistically, there is no race in growing up (especially at this age), he still feels insecure about where he appears to be compared to his peers.

But you stick around anyway, which is weird to him in a sense, but also very nice because having you around means he doesn’t have to think about how crappy he feels about himself. When you’re around, he can goof about and make jokes. He can pretend like he’s going to eat the last slice of pizza, only to pop it in your mouth because he knows you’ve had a rough day and it’ll cheer you up. He has someone there to remind him that sometimes he actually needs a plan before he does a task that’ll land him flat on his ass. Hell, he even enjoys show tunes more openly because seeing you sing and dance to them makes him want to join in, too, and  --

That’s when it hits him. Well, not exactly then, but in the moments in between where he’s by himself. He generally doesn’t like these moments because for so long, they’ve just been moments where he falls into introspection (something he’s already terrible at) and winds up falling further down a rabbit hole of despair.

But after a while of dating you, these moments of introspection start to change. It starts off small, barely noticeable. Until one day, he manages to take a look at himself and not think himself into a flinch; he just thinks, “Hm. That’s . . . not a good thing about me. I should probably fix that . . .” And he does. Well, he makes the effort to. Which is certainly more than he would’ve two years ago. He has no idea where this energy has actually come from, however. Maybe he’s more confident because he’s found a purpose in life? A relatively steady job? Or --

Yup. That’s when it hits him: Maybe he was giving you the last slice because he didn’t feel comfortable being greedy like normal and he wants you to feel nurtured in some way; maybe he’s letting you help him plan things because that’s the responsible thing to do instead of just fucking bullrushing into every damn thing; maybe he’s enjoying musicals a bit more than he ever would’ve admitted because, well, there really is more to rock ‘n roll than he would normally like to admit. There’s more to himself than he would normally be able to see.

And you see that in him. Sure, you see this chubby, overexcited and brazen rock god wannabe. But you also see this insecure guy doing his best, who has the actual drive and potential to be something far greater than what even he knows -- he just needs the right push.

He’s glad you’re his push.

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?):

It’s difficult for Dewey to actually choose to be quite honest. He absolutely treasures memories where he’s able to marry his two passions in life: You and music. Does he go with the first time you saw him perform with the School of Rock? The first time he heard you play chords he’d taught you? The first time you two did karaoke together?

No, actually. Because try as he might, it’s actually a lot simpler than that: Date night at Fat Sam’s Donut Hut. It was after 9 in the evening, and you two had hunkered down in a booth and were having way too much fun playing a dumb little game where one would sing a tune of a song but only using the word “donuts” until the other one guessed what it was.

It was so. Stupid. And that was probably why the both of you kept playing it (well, that, and competitiveness). He was actually quite surprised with how many of yours he was actually able to get right, considering many of them were actually pop songs and musicals specifically chosen to throw him off. He didn’t even know he knew anything from Putnam Spelling Bee! He’s not even sure why this particular memory warms him up inside at first, but he theorizes that it may have something to do with the absurdity of it all, or the authenticity of it.

And while those are certainly contributions, the reality of it is that later that evening, post-shower, he took a moment to glance at himself in the mirror. He can’t help but swear he looks . . . a little different. He’s still weighty, but it’s almost like he’s carrying differently. Like his normally godawful posture has progressed to just, well, mediocre posture. There’s some color to his cheeks that he knows isn’t there due to the hot shower. And honestly? He probably thinks this way because he actually feels good about himself for a change. Huh. Weird . . . He wonders why . . .

And that was when it clicked that he loved you.

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?):

Bright orange. If only because of a rather unfortunate hair dye incident . . . Also maybe black, but that’s only because that was the color of the wig you had to wear until you could get your hands on some dye. He tries to nickname you based on the orange color, but it turns out Orn’gy Porn’gy/Orgy Porgy just . . . He can’t get away with that.

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?):

Bold of you to assume he would ever want to get married. (Okay, but seriously, I actually had fics planned surrounding some of these topics, how dare you make me have to skirt around things in this?)

Dewey actually never really put much thought into marriage for most of his life. Maybe because marriage and rock goddom generally don’t mix. Or maybe it’s because watching his parents’ failed marriage scarred him more than he would like to think or admit . . . Nah, it has to be that first bit. After all, what could be cooler than not having to settle down, being able to travel the road, bang a groupie on every continent? Settling down with in a nice, safe environment created by the both of you’s contributions of excitement and cooperation, thus giving him a sense of belonging and accomplishment the likes of which he’s secretly felt lacking for much of his life?

. . . Oh, shit, that actually does sound pretty nice if he has to think about it.

So nice, in fact, that he just blurted it out as the two of you sat on the floor of the apartment together.

“Hey . . . Do you wanna get married?”

He wants to kick himself for its shitty delivery. It sounds less like he’s asking you for your hand and more like he’s an overly curious kindergartner snooping about his teacher’s private life!

And suddenly, the normally thoughtless Dewey Finn is abuzz with everything wrong with this scene. He didn’t plan this out; he hadn’t begun the week thinking, “I’m going to propose to this beautiful fool”, much less woken up that morning thinking that. He wished he had taken a note from your book and put himself on hold to think this through. Maybe then he could’ve thought about enlisting Ned’s help and making the moment memorable. He knew fancy establishments weren’t your cup of tea, but at least going to a nice place might’ve commemorated the evening. He at least could’ve grabbed a cupcake or something from the bodega a few blocks down. But he didn’t.

And now you’re going to reject him or, at the very least, strangle him or give him the silent treatment or --

“Really?” It’s not said with the bemusement or cynicism he had expected. In fact, if anything, it sounded . . . hopeful.

Okay, credit where credit is due: Sometimes, it helps to be spontaneous.

Thanks for asking!

[orangerful]

Snowflake Challenge 2021 – Post 1, Introduce yourself

In an effort to use this blog more, I’m going to participate in the annual ‘Snowflake Challenge’ so I post on a regular basis.  Hopefully, eventually, I will just make some time for blogging and enjoy the process of getting some of the thoughts constantly rolling around in my head committed to the digital page.

Enter, the Snowflake Challenge (details here)

Challenge #1 In your own space, introduce yourself!

I’m orangerful aka Sam.  Librarian by day, nerd 24/7.

If I listed every fandom/obsession I have, we would be here all day, so let’s just hit the big ones that will probably give you a pretty well rounded view of who I am:

I was born a Star Wars fan and while I don’t love every single thing Star Wars, I have a soft spot for the original films. I tend to pick and choose from the new stuff, since there is SO MUCH of it, but the galaxy far far away is still a happy place for me when I need to escape this planet.

I have also watched ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’.  A lot. I discovered it at just the right time in my life, Buffy’s first year of college was the same year as mine, and that was when I finally gave the series a chance. It clicked with me on a level of no other show and, despite its flaws, I still go back to it and quote it often.

I’m currently watching ‘The Expanse’ on Amazon Prime.  It is one of THE best sci-fi shows on right now (and maybe the best ever? Only time will tell).  I have only read the first book in the series, but I do plan on picking them up at some point (I mean, I work in a library, they are right there) but right now I am enjoying not knowing what is going to happen next.

I just finished a rewatch of ‘Bob’s Burgers’ which still holds up really well and I adore that show.  It makes me laugh and it somehow manages to be edgy and wholesome. Maybe because we are all a little bit Bob, Linda, Tina, Gene and Louise every day.

I read a LOT of young adult and middle grade chapter books along with all ages of graphic novels.  It’s not required by my job, I just prefer them at this point. I find that YA books are just so much more fun and uplifting than “Adult” books.  In YA books, the teens start out struggling with who they are and then experience life to learn and grow and be a better person by the end. In adult books, they start out struggling…continue to struggled…and tend to be struggling/miserable at the end.

That being said, the one adult book series I do enjoy is ‘Murderbot’ by Martha Wells.  I need to read the newest one (2020 gave me terrible readers block) but they are the kind of sci-fi snark I need in my life.

My current obsession is all things tabletop games. You will see many posts from the previous year talking about the excellent YouTube channel Dicebreaker and how I have followed all their guidance to amass a large collection of games this year.  

I’m also a HUGE fan of OutsideXbox and OutsideXtra. I have been playing video games all my life and their fun and positive and very British approach to talking about games keeps me coming back. These channels reignited my love of gaming. They are just nice people and they love games. Oxtra host Luke Westaway did a few streams on his personal channel during 2020, first composing chill beats and then reading ghost stories (and recently LEGOS!) and the community that formed around those live streams include some of my new favorite people on the planet.

As for fannish things that I do, I’m in the category of thinking-too-much-about-that-silly-thing-you-love and picking it apart until no one will talk to me (so I post them here).  It is why I am a fan of Pop Culture Detective and (recently) Cinema Therapy.  I have an entire bookshelf of media studies books, mostly about BtVS but a few more general ones too.  My undergrad is in American Studies which is all about looking at American culture and ideas and how they shape us as a society.

I was once called a “brand evangelist” so I am also the kind of fan that will talk about one show or game that you absolutely must watch and explain to you why it is awesome until you ask me how I found you and to please back away slowly.

I hope that gives you a good picture of who I am through the lens of all the media I consume. Hopefully over the course of this month, we will all get to know each other a little better!

Happy New Year!  It’s 2021 – let’s do better this year!

[inmyarmswrappedin]

DRUCK reactions - s4 ep4

No, I haven’t forgotten about these! I’m a bit behind, but I’m still on track to finish before s5 starts. Although I hope to be done even earlier, because I don’t know if Amira N’s season is going to leave me with a lot of free time.

( @wodrueckts looked this over! 💛)

CLIP 1: Smooth operator

Amira is finishing up her prayer, when we get a quick cut to a picture of Amira and Sam pinned to Amira’s mirror. So, even though Amira and Mohammed had like three separate moments in the last clip of last episode, Druck wants us to think Sam is still in the picture (literally).

Amira gets a text from an unknown number saying, “Wow, Amira, thanks!” She asks who that is, but then checks her other messaging apps for good measure.

So last Friday, Mohammed sent himself a text from Amira’s phone, making Amira out to have for Mohammed the feelings Mohammed has for Amira. Specifically, “I really like you, but you make me really shy somehow.” I like you, but you intimidate me a bit, as Mohammed has been communicating to Amira pretty much since the start. Calling her the woman with the ice cold gaze and such.

I mean, since this is a fiction series and not real life, we know Mohammed is genuine about his feelings. He isn’t playing Amira, he’s her endgame. But this is such a fuckboy move, lol. I dare you to look me in the eye and tell me none of the Penetrator Chrises (or the Williams) would pull something like this.

Amira can’t believe this man, but she’s also charmed! Relatable.

It’s really cute that Amira is so incredulous that Mohammed asks her if texting himself from her phone is bad, that she actually says “Yes!” out loud before she texts it to him.

Mohammed can’t see how charmed Amira actually is, so he acts a bit more vulnerable and confesses he feels the same way. Or rather, that this is how he feels, since Amira wouldn’t necessarily describe herself like that. (I think Amira, rather than shy, is scared.) Of course, this too could be a tactic.

I think it’s interesting that Mohammed comes across as the biggest player of the Yousefs, certainly more than Sofiane in this early stage, but it’s Sofiane who ended up playing Imane.

Anyway, Mohammed sends Amira a song that he hopes she likes. And I think it’s cute that the song is in German. We don’t know how long Mohammed has been living in Germany, but I figure German the language didn’t hugely feature in his life back in Syria. So this is a song he heard in this new country for this girl he met in this new country.

Then Mohammed teases Amira about only listening to Arabic music, and she’s like, “yeah that’s the only music I listen to!” So Mohammed immediately sends her a voice message. Of him singing. In Arabic.

This is adorable, and Amira is obviously charmed as fuck, as am I. And if Mohammed had previously sent Amira a song to symbolize his new life in Germany, this is Mohammed sharing a part of himself from before Germany. It’s very significant and, for me, the most vulnerable he’s been in this clip.

Mohammed is also a bit embarrassed by his singing voice, but Amira clearly doesn’t care. Nobody cares, Mohammed. Keep singing!

CLIP 2: Essam does dumb things to fit in

Amira wakes up to the dulcet sounds of Essam screaming, and doesn’t get what time it is at first.

She and Mohammed were texting until 11 PM, and Amira fell asleep right as she was going to send Mohammed a song. Her last text was at 23:07 and Mohammed waited until 23:53 before wishing her a good night.

A reminder to renew her vaccines for the Australia trip comes in, and Amira first curls up with her phone. Just lost in the romance of it all, until Essam’s shriek cuts through the song lmao.

Amira checks the phone again and wakes up quick when she realizes the appointment is in 45 minutes. She swears a bit, and I’m very intrigued by this because Amira Naybet avoids swear words entirely, going for PG versions of Spanish swear words.

She’s in a rush now, but Essam has locked himself in the bathroom and refuses to come out. They have a bit of a back and forth (Amira’s threats don’t intimidate Essam at all, it seems) before Essam, having wrapped his hair in a towel, finally opens the door.

He asks Amira not to laugh at him and then reveals that he’s bleached his hair… badly. It’s not even yellow, it’s pretty much orange. Amira says he looks like Donald Trump. Trump wishes he had that much hair tbh.

Essam is actually really upset, and even hides his face in the crook of his elbow.   But fortunately he starts laughing a little once Amira cracks up at him. I don’t think I could take sad Essam, it’s completely antithetical to who he is!

Amira asks Essam why he did that to his hair, and said she would’ve helped him if he asked. Essam is all, “no, you wouldn’t. You hate me. You don’t love me at all.” And he just sounds so sincere that I believe he believes that. Like he’s so used to Amira bickering with him (and probably complaining about him to their parents lbr) that he thinks his big sister hates him. It’s just another way in which Essam’s self-esteem is absolutely fragile despite his brash nature.

Essam eventually confesses that he did it because girls (the girls he’s attracted to, that is) only like blond men. The music indicates this is a vulnerable moment for Essam. He feels like he will never be attractive to girls because he’s not white. To Essam, Amira must seem like someone who doesn’t care to fit in with white Germans, because she’s not voicing any complaints that white German boys aren’t knocking at her door. But Essam does want that. Both the white German girls and to fit in.

Anyway, Amira gets this is Essam opening up to her, so she tells him she’ll help fix up his hair. She’s in the middle of sharing her game plan when Mohammed sends a pic, which briefly distracts her.

Essam also sounds sincere when he thanks Amira, and Amira in turn assures Essam she’ll always help him… Though she’s still going to take a picture of him looking like Donald Trump.

We break out of Amira’s POV for a moment, to follow Essam a little longer as he looks at himself in the mirror and tries a Donald Trump sneer. He’s too cute to really pull it off, I’m afraid.

CLIP 3: Everyone (except Amira) is having sex!

I’ll just get it out of the way and say I don’t hate the David/Matteo make outs, nor do I think they were unnecessary.

Like the split screen editing is a bit 🤪 🤪 🤪 creativity! 🤪 🤪 🤪, but the point of this clip is that Amira is surrounded by sexually active people. And David and Matteo have always kept their PDA at cuddling and pecks on the lips in front of people, so it makes sense to me that we’d need to be back on their POV to 1. Show they are into each other, without 2. Actually talking about it with Amira, which would come across as awkward and weird because they’re not that kind of besties.

Like yes, it’s fanservice, but it makes way more sense from a storyline and character standpoint to do it like this than how other Skams handled it.

Though I find it amusing that Druck stans are so vocally opposed to the scene lmao.

Moving on, Kiki and Carlos’ screams of pleasure not only wake up the whole neighborhood from their afternoon naps, but also put off David and Matteo from pursuing their own activities in the hallway.

Amira comes up to them while they’re listening to music and is like, “hey why aren’t you going in?” They’re like, “we don’t want to mention the S word in front of you.” But Amira gets the picture quick once she comes closer to the door.

Druck teases its fans mercilessly as Matteo prods David into admitting his application film is an alien movie with flying body parts. David tries to argue that it’s deeper than that, but lbr this sounds like some campy Z movie nonsense with terrible special effects AND I’M HERE FOR IT. How dare Druck deprive me of this?

Amira’s like, “Yeah that sounds terrible.” Then she starts bickering with Mohammed over text, which makes David and Matteo very 👀 👀 (not that they’re relevant in this season lol).

Then, Sam comes in, and asks why they’re all outside. Unlike Amira, she figures it out for herself and outright asks whether they’re fucking. But she says it in a very pleased way, like she might come in and offer them drinks or condoms, ah god love you!

Amira can’t even take this bit of discussion of sex and wants to come in and end it all. I guess it’s because she’s wondering if people are just going to keep arriving and talking about Kiki and Carlos fucking, although it might also be because she doesn’t know how to be around Sam right now. (Because Sam isn’t just comfortable with people having sex, but she’s sexually active herself.)

Sam grabs Amira’s arm and says not to interrupt Kiki and Carlos, because maybe they’re doing the Happy Baby pose… And like… That’s a yoga pose. I’ll just let y’all google that.

Amira is like, ENOUGH OF THIS! And Sam’s like Okay, miss Priss! Amira wants a second opinion from David and Matteo about this prissiness, and they both plead the fifth.

Right after Sam’s called Amira prissy and put her on the defensive, Sam then says that, in the middle of making out with Abdi, she noticed Amira and Mohammed having a Moment. She’s like, I didn’t know you liked him, I’ll back off.  Amira denies being into Mohammed, but Sam doesn’t buy it.

And like… That’s it for this storyline. It’ll never come up again.

I know that doing away with the Skam love triangle pleased the fandom, but I mean, did Druck really get rid of it? They incorporated it, it features heavily in the first couple episodes and is one of the reasons Amira initially is unsure about the viability of her relationship with Mohammed… But it’s never explored in a meaningful way. It doesn’t develop Sam beyond being interested in boysssssss, it doesn’t develop Sam and Amira’s friendship or explore its nuances as well as the nuances of the hypersexualization of black women as opposed to the assumption that hijabis are repressed. Amira doesn’t even get to tell Sam she likes Mohammed onscreen, she tells Mia instead.

Again, this is a storyline that comes across as not something the writers particularly wanted to do, but they needed some filler for the first couple episodes. And the fact that the show then proceeds to decenter Sam after this, while Kiki’s role only increases, is just incredibly disappointing.

And speaking of Kiki’s presence becoming larger… With this subplot out of the way, Kiki now opens the door, looking very much like Noora when she got out of William’s car in s4. (Crazy idea, but what if it was supposed to be a reference to that? Lmao.)

She’s like, “I and Carlos just got done talking to the landlord, which was a conversation that involved no pants in my part!” Matteo calls shenanigans, Amira’s like, “right,” while Sam and David… Kinda look like they think Kiki’s never looked hotter tbh.

Like I said, I don’t have an issue with this clip, but showing Amira being surrounded by sex, yet not giving Amira the space to verbalize how she feels about this, while also getting rid of the Yousef kissing someone else angle, kinda makes this clip pointless tbh. Like the point of constantly surrounding Sana with sexually active couples was meant to make her feel like she couldn’t give Yousef what he supposedly wanted, i.e. a girlfriend who’d be physical with him.

Again, I’m not saying we have to make the Muslim main feel like shit for not being like a white German (we have enough of that with Essam), but at least give this joke a bit of depth by letting Amira talk about it. One issue with the season is that Amira gets thrown a mountain of microaggressions and ways in which she’s different, but viewers aren’t going to get the point that this adds to the pressures Amira faces unless you hit them over the head with it.

CLIP 4: Foreshadowing – the clip.

Amira is practicing boxing at home in order to have an excuse for her to be covering her hair. (Genuine curiosity, should Skams work this hard on coming up with reasons why their hijabi actresses are covering at home? Like I can see the benefit of not wanting to lead people to think hijabi cover 24/7.)

Mohammed texts her a picture of Angela Merkel doing Merkel hands on which he photoshopped a screenshot of Amira from Matteo’s season, along with the caption: Amira for Chancellor. Mohammed be like, I love this show DRUCK, love making shit posts for it.

Mohammed’s memes have put Amira in a great mood, and Mia chooses that moment to call Amira on Skype. Amira can barely get through the conversation, she’s giggling so much. Mia also comes off as really young in this chat, she acted like more of an adult in s3.

Mohammed keeps texting Amira flirty messages about Amira’s political career, and Mia notices that she’s distracted. She wants to know who’s making Amira smile so much, and Amira deflects and says it’s just her brother. Mia notes that Sam’s been raving about Amira’s brothers (so not just Mohammed), and she and Amira have a bit of a back and forth about Amira hiding Essam and Omar from them.

Then Mohammed sends Amira another meme in which he shops himself as Chancellor Amira’s spin doctor, which is both the cutest and saddest bit of foreshadowing. Amira, not being genre savvy, just finds it charming.

Mia wants to know what’s so funny, and Amira’s like, “can you keep a secret?” Mia, being a former Druck main and thus having seen some shit, is immediately alarmed about what this secret might be, and promises to not say a word.  

But there’s nothing to worry about. Nothing! Amira’s secret is that she kind of likes Mohammed. Not too much because he’s so tall and his hair is so nice and his eyes so dark. His eyebrows are terrible and so is his moustache that makes Amira zero in on his full, soft lips. Plus his body is so nice because he’s always working out! Mia’s like, so where’s the catch?

Amira’s crush is gigantic, and Mia’s so excited for her, but there’s still something holding Amira back. Maybe it’s that it all seems so easy with Mohammed, or that Amira’s not ready to revise her position that all men are shit, or you know, maybe it’s as simple as Amira enjoying being the lovesick one for once and indulging in the giddiness.

At any rate, Alex is visiting Mia next week (in Spain, where Mia totally is), so that’s coming up.  

CLIP 5: Famous last words

Amira and her mom sit down to watch a movie. Amira’s mom is happy to be spending time with her daughter, but Amira is on her phone because Mohammed has asked her, for the hundredth time now, whether she wants to go on a date with him. The man is running out of creative ways to ask Amira out, and she’s still all No ❤️

Amira’s mom wants to know who she’s texting, and Amira says it’s just Kiki. Because Kiki is Amira’s bestie now. Amira’s mom likes her though. She thinks she’s nice and also reminds the viewers of a potential Kiki storyline by commenting on her weight. In hindsight I don’t know why I ever thought s5 wouldn’t somehow deal with Kiki, because the writing is so clearly setting up a Zoë season about Kiki.

Amira’s mom says Amira never confides in her anymore, and eh. I mean, Amira did just lie about who she’s texting, but when Sana’s mom said this to Sana in Skam, it was more significant because Sana had been hiding her Russ plans from her for over three seasons. Amira has been pretty forthcoming with her mom in comparison. She knows about her friends (or about Kiki, at least) and about the trip to Australia. She doesn’t need to know about Amira’s delivery job because she doesn’t have it anymore.

Anyway, Amira bites her lip because she can’t hide this feeling anymore! She likes a boy! He’s nice and smart and cooks well, and Amira’s mom teases her that she’ll never go hungry then, as Amira just burnt the popcorn.

Amira’s mom wants to know whether the boy is handsome (of course!) and Muslim (of course! Famous last words). She wants to meet the boy, but Amira would like to get to know Mohammed better first, which is never going to happen if she keeps turning him down.

With that out of the way, they finally resume watching the movie, which seems to be a Bollywood one because the characters dance all the time. Is it a movie where the climax happens at a wedding, perhaps?? It looks like all the dancing helps Amira make her mind up, as she says, “You only live once.”

CLIP 6: Never leave the house

Amira meets Mohammed at a park, and they exchange a bunch of “Na?” because they’re dumb and into each other. Then Mohammed bravely asks Amira if she missed him, as if he didn’t know at this point that Amira is going to laugh at him. Which she does, because she says no.

They’re in the midst of some mating dance, when Amira notices a hijabi and (presumably) her daughter. She hides behind a tree, because she doesn’t want to be the hot gossip at the mosque, but Mohammed is all, “aw, I remember when I wasn’t traumatized by war and cared about trivial shit like this.”

Or maybe he doesn’t care because he never goes to the mosque. Okay, okay. I’ll stop.

At any rate, this is the first time that Mohammed says or does something that would actually pose a problem to Amira. This is quickly brushed aside because they get lost in each other’s eyes as soon as they make eye contact.

Kiki rudely interrupts this moment, but Amira’s like, “I’m busy, bye.” So she and Mohammed go on a musical montage where they box and push each other, and Mohammed sticks a flower in Amira’s hijab. Just enjoying the romance of it all! Until Amira notices Kiki’s called her three times, and I don’t want to say Kiki is the secondary love interest, but, you know.

It turns out that, while the parents were away, Essam decided to throw a rager. And he invited Kiki as he’s been working hard for her to notice him on insta. Kiki thought Amira would be attending this party when she got the invite, and has by now realized Amira wouldn’t approve of any of this.

Amira arrives at the party with Mohammed hot on her heels, and Kiki starts apologizing for thinking this was all on the up and up. Amira says her parents are at a wedding for the whole weekend, and Kiki gets distracted by Amira’s pretty lipstick. I don’t want to say Kiki is the secondary love interest, but, you know.

Amira confronts Essam, whose hair is looking a lot better than last time we saw it. Essam doesn’t seem to realize the seriousness of the situation, so Amira leans in and sniffs Essam’s breath. She asks Essam if he’s been drinking but he says no. However, he must be totally out of it because he wanders off, hypnotized by Kiki’s mermaid-esque beauty (or something).

Essam starts dancing with Kiki, who looks uncomfortable but goes along with it. At one point he puts his hand on her hip, and she grabs it and removes it from her body. Carlos (who has been blowing off his friends for weeks but is at this party, lol) notices this as it happens. Carlos shoves Essam and they start fighting.

Essam is bigger, or the German boy squad are lovers, not fighters, or Carlos was totally holding back, but either way Essam gets the upper hand and needs to be pulled off by both Amira and Mohammed. Kiki gets mad at Carlos for getting territorial over her. This is like, one of the most actually feminist moments to happen in a Skam that isn’t Skam España, I gotta say. Meanwhile Amira and Mohammed try to hold Essam accountable, but he starts feeling sick.

As this is all happening, Amira’s mom texts her to let her know that they came back because dad is, coincidentally, also sick (but not for the same reason lol).  Amira tells Kiki, who takes charge of the situation and kicks everyone out. She literally shoves people out of the house, and I just think Kiki was born to do this, tbh.

If you think about Kiki’s mom being an alcoholic, it kinda makes sense that Kiki thinks of spraying some air freshener as she leaves. She also takes a crate of bottles with her, but because this is Sana’s season, a couple are left behind. Amira and Mohammed weirdly hide them under a cushion, even though they have time to fold a blanket and regroup.

Mohammed thinks the date didn’t go too badly!

As Amira’s parents walk in, Mohammed has to carry Essam from where he was previously sitting on the floor waiting for the bathroom to be free, to a couch.

Amira’s mom is surprised to see Mohammed in the house, and I’m like, “why though?” It’s not like his outfit screams date (whereas Amira totally looks date-ready), and he and Essam are friends. Parents are so annoying, bless.

But she gets over it, especially as she notices Essam in a fetal position. She comes over to greet him and notices he’s cradling a vodka bottle like a baby, and of course she asks Amira and Mohammed what that is, cause you know, as the older sibling and friend they should be looking after him!

And then, Mohammed, Amira’s self-proclaimed spin doctor, tells Amira’s mom that he brought the bottle (and it just fell into Essam’s hands I guess lol). Amira’s mom is angry and reminds Mohammed that they’re Muslims, which makes me wonder if she knows he doesn’t believe in Allah. She’s also upset at Amira, because you know, they were just watching a movie yesterday and suddenly Mohammed is bringing vodka to her house for Essam to consume excessively, as Amira supposedly watches on in approval.

Amira doesn’t even respond, she’s so upset.

I think Druck pulled off this storyline the best out of the Sana versions, including Skam itself. One of the biggest problems with this storyline in Sana’s season is that it affected characters Sana wasn’t all that close to. Like, best buds and everything, but at the end of the day, Isak and Sana rarely hung out. Because the show is ultimately about the girl squad, not Isak’s squad or his friendship with Sana. So in Skam this storyline affected a school friend of Sana’s, his boyfriend, and a friend of her brother’s. Druck instead made it about Amira’s brother, one of Amira’s closest friends and her boyfriend.

Druck also chose to introduce this storyline in a multi pov episode, so that we got a better understanding of Kiki’s and Carlos’ mindsets going into the episode.

This will be more debatable, but I personally prefer that Druck didn’t hide the fight from us. In Skam, we don’t get to see the fight because Sana is supposed to believe those islamophobic Pepsi Max girls (and Yousef’s interpretation of why Even transferred) over her own brother. And I’m sure part of Julie’s intention was to make Skam viewers examine their own assumptions as to what happened, but the thing is… If people don’t want to examine their prejudices, they simply won’t. There are Skam viewers who, to this day, are convinced that Julie bowed to political correctness or whatever the fuck.  Druck makes all the characters’ motives clear and show us how the fight happened, and I’m sure there will still be assholes, but at least it’s not a “he said that’s what happened” situation.

It also doesn’t involve hypothetically homophobic Muslims, which was already dealt with in Isak’s (and Matteo’s) season. I personally don’t think this topic needs a rehash in a Sana season unless Sana herself is queer. Similarly, by making Amira’s brother the person to bring alcohol into the house, you don’t need to make the Sana bow down to the peer pressure of white mean girls.

Given that Essam is the one to bring alcohol into the house and to get handsy with Kiki, Druck did the absolutely correct thing and showed us Essam’s vulnerability before the fight. I would say, aside from Yousef, none of the Skam balloon squad was vulnerable in the same fundamental level that Essam is. Of course Elias is happy to hear that Even asked about him, and Mikael is quiet for a moment when he sees Even in his contact list. But ultimately, that’s friend drama. Essam changing his hair in hopes to fit in and be liked is about Essam himself.

I think Druck dropped Essam’s character arc right there because they intended season 5 to air in fall or winter last year. (Otherwise, why make Essam and Zoë Machwitz be the same age?) Now that both Zoë and Essam would be in their last year of high school, and Nora is slated to be the main instead, I hope they find a way to still fit Essam in there. So at least one Mahmood is done justice, you know.

On the downside, the focus on the Essam/Kiki/Carlos/vodka storyline means that Amira’s and Mohammed’s first date is not just cut short, but because of Druck’s time constraints, it also means that it’s mostly cuteness set to music.

Social media

Apparently Abdi heard that, without an insta, he just couldn’t match up to Mohammed, so he got one. Of course the first person he tells is Sam…

Mia posts a picture of a flamenca, because she’s in Madrid. Alex sends her a bunch of messages about arriving on Sunday, but Mia doesn’t respond to them (she did read them though).

Kiki posted a video of her workout, with Essam posting a similar video the day after to no response from Kiki. Kiki later posts a video of her yoga session, and when Essam does the same thing, he actually goes ahead and tags her in the story. The second hand embarrassment was felt across the globe.

After Amira tells Mia about her crush on Mohammed, she texts Sam to let her know as well. Sam takes it well (she’d pretty much figured it out after all). They agree to hang out later, and we get a couple pics on insta to commemorate the event. Which Abdi later copies to get Sam’s attention.    Just a terrible week for thirsty men on Druck.

Meanwhile, Matteo takes David to meet his mom, and David later posts an evocative drawing to commemorate the event. And that’s all we’re ever told about that, much to the frustration of David/Matteo stans.

Abdi poses with a sleeping Sam and posts the pic to his insta and omg, Abdi! Just stop.

Before the party, Kiki and Carlos fight over text because Carlos has decided to get a Fachabi rather than an Abi (so, like, a kind of high school diploma that would make it harder for him to go to uni, and better suited for a trade) without telling Kiki. I gotta say, I know Kiki and Carlos have moved in together and everything, but I think Carlos’ tertiary education being a team decision is way too intense for two high school graduates, as far as I see it.

There’s this one pic from Kiki’s stories where Essam is posing with a bunch of white girls, and it just gave me the worst flashbacks to those sorority videos where everyone is scarily in sync.

Final thoughts

The boy squad and balloon fight is the turning point in Sana’s season, and by moving it up and combining it with the booze left behind storyline, Druck turned it into a side storyline about Essam, instead. As I said, I think they pulled it off much better than Skam, but it also means that this is Amira’s third episode and Druck has chewed through most of the storylines in Sana’s season (including the love triangle with Noora/Sam, which is tossed aside this episode).

At this point, the only storylines left are Yousef’s lack of faith, Noorhelm drama and… The cyberbullying storyline which ends up unintentionally hurting Vilde. Ideally, Druck would’ve focused on the former of the three, and would have still gotten four episodes to really deal with it in a nuanced way, but we’ll see how that worked out.  

[cecilspeaks]

159 - Cat Show

Be the annoying goose you want to see in the world. Welcome to Night Vale. 

This day was foretold and now it is here. Some doubted it would come, but the signs were clear. And I could not be more excited! It’s the annual Night Vale cat show. [laughs] I know, I rarely report on this event, but this year, I finally entered my own cat, Khoshekh, into the contest. Many of you remember that I found Khoshekh 7 years ago. He was floating 4 feet off the ground in the men’s restroom here at the radio station, and he’s still in that exact same spot, cute as ever with his furry little white paws! And elegant little black tail, and just the floofiest tentacles you could ever see.

My husband and I adore cats! We’re always ranking them, because love is above all else a competition. So we figured we should put Koshekh out there for an objective ruling on our own beliefs that he is the best cat in the world! It should be an easy win for our little boy, especially with the home field advantage. Koshekh is stuck in a fixed point in space, and the cat show is being held here at the radio station to accommodate his condition. Station Management is a bit unhappy about this, because they’re terribly allergic to cats. All morning, as the cat show organizers and competing cats have arrived, I have felt the sneezes of Station Management from deep below the surface of the Earth where they have burrowed into the warm, molten core of our dying planet.

I sent our new intern Simon Peterson out to pick up some Benadryl for the bosses, and he did, but now he’s having trouble navigating the 16 inch wide rocky tunnel Station Management dug into the break room, and Simon keeps saying he’s claustrophobic and that his greatest fear is to be stuck in a dark place where the long spindly arms touch and prod his feet, but he cannot see them. And even if he could, he would not comprehend them. Ad n the prickly limbs grab at him with increasing desperation and he does not scream, because he knows no one will hear him except the inscrutable.. thing that is now tearing open the skin along the bottom of his feet. And I was like Simon, this office is a no excuses zone, so get in that tunnel and do your job.

More on the cat show soon, but first the news. Strange men arrived in town today. They were wearing suits and carrying briefcases. They drove a black sedan. One of them wore sunglasses. They claimed to be from Washington DC from an agency called the National Transportation Safety Board. They were inquiring about a missing plane. The strange men, one of them had a blister on his upper lip, met with Sheriff Sam, and told them that on June 15, 2012, Delta flight 18713 from Detroit Mistigan to Albany New York disappeared. The NTSB still has not found the MT-90 aircraft. The men told Sheriff Sam that for many years, the agency believed the flight to have gone down in Lake Erie. Sheriff Sam laughed at this silly fake name for a lake and told the men – one of them had a swollen red lump along the cuticle of his right index finger –that they must be remembering some spooky young adult novel, rather than a real life event. The strange men – one of them had an unceasing nose bleed – said it was in fact true. They said that they recently found a report indicating that right before Flight 18713 vanished from radar, it was detected all the way down in the southwest United States, right here in Night Vale. “How is that possible?” the strange men asked our Sheriff. Sheriff Sam stopped laughing and said: “I know the plane. Or rather, I know someone who saw that plane. His name is Doug, Doug Biondi.” The strange men – one of them wore three wedding rings – nodded and said: “Take us to Doug.” Sheriff Sam said: “Doug is in the Night Vale asylum. He is dangerous. He is not allowed visitors. But…” and Sheriff Sam leaned forward, clasping their hands together across the desk and continued in a hush town: “I… could… assist… in an undercover operation. Disguise you all as new inmates, treacherous psychopaths who must be kept in lockdown in the world’s highest security mental hospital. Then, then… you would be able to interview Doug Biondi about what he saw that day in the elementary school gym.” And the strange men – one of them was weeping thick yellow tears – agreed that this was a great idea, and set out with the Sheriff to the asylum, deep within the Scrublands, to begin their covert investigation. I’m sure those strange men from the NTSB will emerge soon with a full report. More on this story as it develops.

But I have to get back – to the Cat shooooow! [excited] Oh ho ho, [gasps] so many cats have arrived! [laughs] Th-there are cages and carriers full of sweet kitties all over the station! Representing all four breeds of cat: long haired, short haired, smushyfaced and miscellaneous. When I was filling out the entry forms for Khoshekh, they asked me this breed, and he’s definitely smushyfaced, but also long haired although he’s short haired along his coddlespine and pincers, soooooo… miscellaneous? I guessed. Also they wanted Khoshekh’s last name, and I have never thought of a last name for our cat. Huh. I told Carlos we should put his last name as Khoshekh’s last name, because Carlos has a much more interesting last name than me. Plus Carlos is pretty well known and very well liked in town. Everybody knows his last name, and I thought that might carry some political weight in the minds of the judges. But Carlos insisted that we use mine, because I found Khoshekh and I adopted him. So there you go, little kitty. You are Khoshekh Gershwin Palmer. A champion name for a champion cat.

Let’s have a look now at the community calendar. This Friday night is the Tour of Lights in Old Town Night Vale. Participants can meet at Galway and 1st at 7 PM, where a tractor pulling a trailer full of hay will drive you around to look at the bright and festive holiday lights adorning the various historic homes. Last year’s favorite, the Victorian mansion owned by Harrison Kip, included a 40-foot tall Santa, his arms outstretched overseeing a vast army of toiling elves, while an old Victrola played “Ave Maria” over crackling speakers and clowns leapt suddenly from the thick shrubs, handing unsuspecting but delighted guests red and blue balloons shaped by long dead family members. Tickets are five dollars and go to support the Bilderberg Group.

Saturday evening is the bi-monthly pub crawl in downtown Night Vale. Every eight weeks or so, every bar in town becomes overrun with 7 inch long bugs that look like… a bit like earwigs but with human faces. All participating bars and pubs are offering two for one specials on well drinks and bottled domestics.

Sunday afternoon, the Tamika Flynn book club will be meeting to discuss their most recent book, the 2018 Husqvarna YTH-24K 14-inch riding mower owner’s manual. This month’s book was chosen by John Peters – you know, the farmer? They’ll be discussing the themes, symbolism and subtext of this seminal work of contemporary technical literature. The book club is open to anyone and there will be a potluck benefit.

Monday is running a few minutes late, but wants everyone to know we can go ahead and start without it.

The cat show is finally underway and wow! What a sight! I’ve never actually been to a cat show before today, it is, it’s fascinating! So, the judges take each cat one at a time. They hold up the cat’s tail to examine its posture and form. Then they pry open the cat’s mouth to check its teeth. Then four judges hold each of the cat’s paws and stretch it out into a furry X, as a fifth judge measures the cat’s latitudinal, longitudinal and diagonal lengths. I’m surprised at how gentle these cats are with all this rough handling. Khoshekh – [scoffs] Khoshekh usually tries to bite me or-or sting me when I feed him, and I appreciate that about him. It’s hard to respect a cat that would let any stranger look it directly in the eyes, let alone touch it. People sometimes think cats will behave obediently and chummily, like dogs, but cats are individualistic. They show love, yes, but it is conditional and judgmental. You must give a cat space to learn its environment and develop its own social rules. Plus those pincers really hurt! The cats they’re showing right now are really cute, but it’s [sighs], it’s hard to respect them, like the way they let these judges just treat them like slabs of meat. [shouts angrily] Stand up for yourselves, you glorified sock puppets!

Oh, I’m getting some nasty looks from the judges and other contestants. Good, good. (-) [0:12:26] is important in contact sports. Let them know who’s the front runner.

Amber Akini and her husband Wilson Levy are showing their cat now, a tiny fist-sized orange and white shorthair named Berthold. Berthold might be my second favorite cat, behind Khoshekh of course, because he’s a - oh, oh what to call that kind of cat with extra appendages the poly.. polydactyl, polydactyl, that’s it. Anyway, Berthold is a polydactyl cat. He has eight legs and a mesmerizing array of shiny black eyes covering his cute little face. I’m not so sure Berthold has much of a chance of winning, though. Because when the judges tried to check his teeth, he skittered up the wall and won’t come back from the web he built up there. Ah, well now Susan Willman is showing her cat. He’s a scraggy, but otherwise basic tabby with dirty teeth like Spanish rice and the sunken posture of a playground swing. Oh I didn’t catch his name, although it sounded like she called Dumpster. [chuckles] [low voice] Not a chance, loser.

OK, oh wait. The judges are all wide-eyed and cooing over Dumpster, like he’s a rare bejeweled artefact. Wait, they’re nodding to each other as if they’re impressed. I don’t get this! He’s a trash cat. That’s why she named him Dumpster of, knowing Susan, maybe that’s a family name. Ooh ho-ho! Oh, I’m getting a shush sign from the judges, and Susan is glaring at me. [chuckles] I had no idea how political this cat show would be. What a racket.

Let’s have a look now at traffic. There’s a slowdown on westbound lanes of Route 800 near Exit 19. There is no construction or accident. Highway patrol said that everyone on that side of the road simply started thinking about Urinus and giggling. Every single driver, simultaneously, remembered how the name of that planet always made them laugh in school. Scientists want to study Urinus. They thought it wants really probe the dense noxious clouds covering the rocky surface of Urinus. They considered in unison, their ruddy cheeks quaking above sore jaws and below tear-filled crackling eyes: scientists think the pressure inside Urinus is so great that here may be diamonds inside Urinus. The drivers all howled, the audible din enough to slow even the eastbound lanes, who were trying to think of a single funny thing about Saturn, but could not. I’m not sure I get why any of that is funny. But expect westbound delays of 20 minutes or take an alternative route.

It’s the big moment, listeners. The judges are visiting Khoshekh right now in the men’s restroom. I tried to tell them to use hazmat gloves, but they sneered and said: “We know how to handle cats, sir.” OK, they are professional arbiters of all things feline, so I believe them. They’re holding up Khoshekh’s tails right now, examining his nacreous scales. They brought in two other judges to try to hold Khoshekh’s tentacles down because, well he keeps trying to grab at the main judge’s face as the judge attempts to examine Khoshekh’s teeth. Oh, I wonder if they’ll deduct points for Khoshekh having more teeth than a normal cat. I mean he has five rows of them. OH, oh! Oh no. Ohhh, the judges are not controlling this situation well at all, Khoshekh has wrapped up all of the jduges in his many spiraling suctioned arms. They’re struggling to break free, but those tentacles secrete a sedative oil and the judges are wobbling.. They’re passing out, yup, not good. Every single judge is unconscious, and now Khoshekh is wildly flapping his wings and, while I cannot hear it I can tell, he is emitting a shriek that only other cats can hear. He does this when he’s upset. OH, there’s Berthold coming down from the safe haven of his web. There’s Dumpster, hollow-eyed and purring, waling toward Khoshekh. And all the other cats are coming too. Their mouths agape, emitting I m sure the the same ultrasonic tone, a harmon of protest, of uprising, of bloodthirst. They’re gathering now in the men’s room, eyes glowing, all slack-jawed and silent screaming at the sky. On yeah, the other pet owners are sobbing and they’re running for the exist, but they know they cannot leave. They would not leave even if they could. It is silent now in the station safe for the panting exhaustion of frightened human owners, and the strained wheezing breaths of unconscious cat show judges. I think Carlos and I have a great shot at winning this thing, listeners. an announcement of a champion coming soon!

But first, The weather.

[”Weather: “Fuzzy Disco” by Talkie https://talkie.bandcamp.com]

The judges woke up, but they no longer speak in English nor any human language. They are licking themselves and eating moths that they caught by the single swinging light bulb in our radio station’s interrogation room. Their brains are feral and feline now, as they hide under tables and hiss at the other cat owners. I tried to warn them about using hazmat gloves, but they didn’t wanna hear me. [big gasp] Or maybe they did! Perhaps this was their gambit all along, I mean this is after all my first cat show, I don’t wanna pretend like I know how these things go. No winners were announced. The judges joined the high-pitched catervauling of the other cats. And then they all left in a unified clatter, out the men’s room window and into the street. I can see them now, running toward the alley behind the CVS, several other cats joining their ranks, all except - Khoshekh, who cannot leave his spot in the station restroom. Four feet in the air.

I told Khoshekh that he’s a winner in my mind, and I put on my thick rubber gear and gently stroked his smushed little face! [giggles] Right between his middle two eyes! Huh. It’s hard to tell what cats are thinking or feeling, but I think Khoshekh is happy. He’s happy to have such a loving home and two doting dads. But something in his eyes tells me he wanted to run free with his new cat friends. I gave him a catnip plushie though, and he looks content, if a little coked up.

Stay tuned next for a noise you cannot hear, rallying a feral insurrection.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: Wanna feel old? Don’t worry, you will.

[of-fishnets-and-black-lace]

True Love is a Lie pt. II

Request: Can I please have a part two to “True Love is a Lie”? The first one was so good! Can I have it where it’s been a couple of months and you’re dating Sam and Lucifer comes and asks you to take a walk through the woods while Sam and Dean follow behind, just in case, and you tell him that you’re pregnant with Sam’s child and can you name the child Diana from Wonder Woman and also include the young Diana Prince?

Read Part 1 here!

Word Count: 1892

Warnings: Angst, pregnancy, fluff, cursing, terrible writing, idk what else since it has been too long since I’ve read this, the format got messed up when i posted this from my google docs

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader, Past Lucifer x Reader

A/N: I’m baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack. Shit has been so crazy the past few months/years but I’ve got my mojo back! It has been so long since I’ve done anything but I am hoping that with this pandemic I can finally post and write all the requests I have been getting, sequels to my other stories, as well as new stuff I’ve been working on. I am still not taking any requests until I have finished those in my inbox. I love you all and I am so happy to be writing again!

A year went by since your last heartwrenching encounter with Lucifer.  You nearly forgot about it because of your new life with Sam.  Sam always made sure to be attentive and by your side at a moment’s notice.  He made you trust in people again after your confrontation with Lucifer.  He knew after that experience you’d be broken, so he made sure to be there to mend the pieces.   

You did not want to dwell in the past and think yourself into a  depressive mood, especially with the Winchester boys and your new best friend, Jack, gone on a hunt.  You would’ve went with them had you not felt so nauseous and tired.  It was a typical salt-n-burn so you weren’t exactly missing out on anything important.  Nevertheless, Sam hated leaving you, especially with Lucifer still out there, but you were safe. 

Just as the thought of the moose enters your mind, your phone buzzes.

Sam: Hey baby girl, we’re on our way back.  Need anything?

You: Just some warm cuddles from my moose. 

You: Actually, I need oranges like right now. Not joking, I feel like I’ll die without oranges.

Sam: Is everything ok? You’ve never asked for oranges and I’ve never even seen you eat oranges since I’ve known you.

You: Yeah I’m fine, just a bit nauseous.  Also I’ve just been having a weird craving for oranges for some reason.  Oh well.

Sam: Hmm, I’m no doctor but maybe you should get checked out.  I worry about you, honey.

You: I know sweetie, but the doctor is expensive. It’s probably just the stomach flu or something.  Btw, how much longer?

Sam: Probably an hour, give or take 15 minutes.

You: Ok, Love you! See you soon!

Sam: Love you too! Can’t wait!

“Ok, so I have about an hour or so to check and see if my suspicions are correct.” You say aloud to yourself.

“What suspicions?” Cas suddenly appears out of nowhere, scaring you half to death.

“What the hell Cas?!” You all but screamed.

“Sorry, I thought you were praying to me.” Cas was never any good at lying to you.

“Umm, no I wasn’t just tell me why are you here?”

“I heard something on angel radio, and I needed to know if it is true.” He places a hand on your stomach.  “So it is true.”

“What? What is wrong with me?”

“(Y/N), your suspicions are right.  You’re six weeks pregnant.”

“How is that possible? Sam and I were so careful! What will he think or say? No, I can’t tell him. Not yet.”

With Sam and Dean still not home, you made Cas get a pregnancy test.  You trusted the angel’s words, but you needed concrete evidence.  You made Cas leave for a few days; you knew for sure that Cas wouldn’t be able to keep the secret.  The plus sign emerged with seconds to spare as Sam’s heavy footsteps could be heard approaching your shared room.

“(Y/N) I’m home!” Sam yelled as he collapsed onto the bed. You run out from the bathroom, pounce on him, and kiss all over his face.

“I missed you, Moose.”

“I missed you too, sweetheart.  I got the oranges you asked for.” 

“Thank you, baby…” You said as you chewed on the inside of your cheek.

“What’s wrong, baby girl?”

“Sam, have you ever thought about having kids?”

“Well yeah of course but… Isn’t it a little dangerous given our profession?”

“Yeah that’s true, but we’ve got out once, we can do it again.  Besides, I know I am safe when I’m with you and when I’m here in the bunker.”

“Enough with the chit chat, we have company.” Dean interrupts 

You and Sam follow Dean to the lighted table, sitting there was God himself, dressed oh so casually and a look of nervousness graced his face.  He twiddled his thumbs and a small smile made its way to his features as his eyes locked with yours.  

“Uh hehe, hey (Y/N), Sam, Dean, Jack.”

“What’s up, Chuck?” You said, holding onto Sam.

“Um, Lucifer asked me to tell you that he’s outside and would like to speak with you.” You grabbed onto Sam a little tighter.  

“I’ll talk to him, but I want Sam and Dean to stay close to me.  Jack should stay behind since it’s his father.”  

“He knows, he said that they could.”

You make your way outside and there he is, dressed in a nice suit and tie with a bouquet of (f/c) (f/f) in his right hand, but one thing was different: you couldn’t see his wings.  Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest, but Sam gave a reassuring squeeze to your hand.  You began walking toward Lucifer, Sam and Dean close behind.  Lucifer handed you the bouquet of flowers and gave a quick peck to your knuckles.  This apparently didn’t sit well with Sam as he cleared his throat with anger. 

“Will you join me for a walk through the woods, (Y/N)?” Lucifer asked and you look to Sam and Dean. “Don’t worry, they can follow behind.”  

You all walk to the edge of the woods in silence, your heart beat faster with every step closer to the treeline.  Through your peripheral vision, you could see Sam clench and unclench his jaw.  He was just as nervous as you were, if not more so.  You and Lucifer finally enter the woods. Sam and Dean follow a minute behind to give you some form of privacy, while still able to barely make out your conversations.  

“First of all, I want to say I’m so sorry for what I did to you.  I should have asked for your permission and talked it through with you.” Lucifer says, breaking the silence.  

“It’s alright I guess. I did some research and I now understand that I would not have survived through labour.  However, that does not justify your actions, what you did really hurt me.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry.  I never meant to hurt my soulmate.”

“Soulmate?”

“Yes, you were my soulmate.  That’s why you were able to see my wings.”

“Then why can’t I see them now?”

“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk about.”  There was a pained expression on his face, you’ve never seen the devil quite like this before.  “I had God make Sam your soulmate after what I had done to you.”

“This isn’t like you Lucifer, why would you do this?”

“I have to prove to you that I will always love you and do what’s best for you, even if it meant letting you go.” He sighed and placed a hand on your stomach. You could hear Dean hold Sam back as he spewed threats if Lucifer were to harm you.  

“Hurt the baby and I will not hesitate to pluck every feather from your wings.”

“I swear on my Father that I will protect yours and Sam’s child. It’s the least I could do to make up for everything.” He said as he kisses your forehead. “Name her Diana.” With that he disappears.

Sam finally breaks away from his brother and runs straight to you. He sees you place a hand protectively over your stomach and smile to it.The words of Lucifer finally make sense to him as he asks “You’re pregnant?”

You shake your head and smile, afraid to say anything.

“I am going to be a father!” Sam shouted with excitement as he picks you up and spins you around.  Tears of joy threaten to spill from both you and Sam as you lock eyes.  As he goes in for a kiss, you both are interrupted by Dean, yelling incoherently and excitedly about him being an uncle. You and Sam look at each other and giggle. It’s not a perfect family, but you can’t live without them.

Time Skip to Wedding Day (3 years later)

You look at your engagement ring then to your flower girl, Diana Prince Winchester, waddling down the aisle leaving flower petals in her wake.  She looked so adorable in her little white dress and you couldn’t help but to tear up.  The audience gasp and awe as they watch your daughter.

The wedding was surprisingly large for a pair of hunters.  Hordes of hunters (friends and some you’ve never seen before), the Winchesters’ monster “friends”, a few angels, and some family came from all over to see you two get married.  With God sponsoring your wedding, you expected something extravagant like a wedding at the Vatican. However, this was not the case.  The ceremony was held in a beautiful meadow that somehow matched your (f/c) wedding theme. The icing on top of the cake was Chuck himself officiating the wedding.  

The wedding march began and Gabriel walks you down the aisle.  Sam couldn't help but let a few tears slip as he watches his two beautiful girls in white.  Dean, the best man, elbows him slightly but he too couldn't help the tears.  Cas, Lucifer, and Jack all smile at you and then to Sam.  They know you two are perfect for each other.  You weren't phased by Sam asking Lucifer to be a groomsman. Besides, it was your idea to have him as Diana's godfather.  You finally reach the altar, and neither of you seem to care about the sniffling and hiccuping. You were finally marrying each other so let the waterworks happen. 

You were hardly paying attention until you hear Chuck say it's time to share your vows.  Sam clears his throat and begins: 

“Y/N, I've known you for as long as I can remember.  We've been fighting side by side since we were little and our dads would go on hunting trips together.  I would always tell myself, that one way or another I will marry this girl and protect her from any and every monsters.  You may have not been my soulmate then, but you are my soulmate now. And as your soulmate, I'm never letting you go.” There was a slight pause and an awkward cough from Lucifer. “I will love you until the end of time.” 

He slips the ring on your finger as you begin:  “I’d never thought I would be standing here with the infamous Sam Winchester, yet here I am with a ring on my finger.  You were my first best friend and my first crush and my first protector.  you’ve saved me from being broken in more ways than one, and for that I owe you my life.  While it is true we were not soulmates before, we are soulmates now and that’s all that matters.  I will love you forever until the end of time.” 

After the expression of the “I Dos,” you hear the words you’ve been dying to hear since you made it to the altar: “You may kiss the bride.” Sam grabs you by the waste and pulls you to him.  With the passion of a thousand suns, he kisses you and everything melts away.  It was just like the first time you two kissed.  

In the back of your mind, you could hear Lucifer whisper “I will always love you” but that didn’t matter to you anymore. You are Sam’s and he is yours.  Nothing will change that.

[crushedbyhyperbole]

Some Like it Saucy (TFV)

Summary:  Cooped up in the compound while the team conference with Secretary ‘Toss-pot’ Ross, you decide to cook and decorate.  What better way to fill the team’s hearts and bellies than a Marrakech-themed evening with Bucky’s favourite food - Moroccan tagine.

Words:  1.6k

A/N:  Written for @buckybarnesbeans​​ leap year challenge filling the dialog prompt:  “Which one of you Bollocks thinks my chicken is dry?  You? You?”  (In bold).  It’s a Bucky x Reader originally written as an adult reader, but this is the teen-friendly version. Thank you @sassy-pelican​​ for giving the original a read to check for mess-ups

Warnings:  Bad language and British slang. Fluff.  Light on reader insecurities towards the end.

The living areas of the compound were quiet and hollow; the whole team was gone and you were left alone.  It felt eerie.  Like the rest of the world had vanished and you were the sole inhabitant of a world once teeming with life.  You shivered at the thought of such endless solitude.

There were remnants of their existence, of course.  The alluring yet comforting smell of Bucky’s soap in your bathroom this morning, a half-drank mug of coffee on the common room table, a messily folded newspaper with a half-completed crossword puzzle, and an open packet of Tony’s favourite trail mix hidden in the magazine rack.  It wasn’t like they had been snapped out of existence or anything, they were all at a conference with Secretary Ross.

Dickhead, you thought.

Ever since that mission in London where you picked up some amusing English insults that you later took pleasure in using on Secretary Ross, your absence at debriefings and conferences involving him had been, let’s say, strongly advised.  Needless to say, Secretary Ross didn’t appreciate you calling him a wanker and telling him that he talked a load of bollocks.

It had been a fun mission though.  The team had been brought in to help MI5 foil a plot to steal the crown jewels and reunite the nine pieces of the famous Cullinan diamond, which occult conspiracy theorists say was a stone of great power.  Cullinan I, in particular, was an exquisite stone. Housed in the majestic sceptre with the cross, it had piqued your interest purely for its unusual refractive index; there was something about that stone, you could feel it with your powers as you pushed your influence through the security case to interact with the stone.

Goosebumps broke out across your skin and you shook yourself free of the memory.  The eeriness of the compound seemed to have increased since invoking the feeling of the power of the stone but you cast it aside as best you could, latching on to the annoyance you felt that Secretary Ross was robbing you of a lazy morning with Bucky.  Tosser!

Boredom made your bones itch.  You needed to do something other than going back to your room to vegetate until everyone came back, so you decided to cook dinner.  Moroccan chicken tagine. It was one of Bucky’s favourite meals, and since everyone was suffering the presence of Secretary Tosser, you figured they deserved a reward.

Delicious smells of savoury meat, fragrant spices and sweet apricots filled the kitchen as the team emerged from the elevator.  You were finishing up by adding a handful of chopped coriander leaves to the tagine, humming a tune while you worked, when strong arms snaked around your waist and a beardy kiss pressed against your temple.  You’d know the feel and smell of Bucky anywhere.

“Hey, baby!”  You smiled.  “How is Secretary Tosser?”

“You didn’t miss anything good.”  He chuckled in your ear, kissing your neck softly.  You adored that you were both still very much in love after years of being together. “He finally fired that P.A. who wrote that you called him a wanker into the meeting transcript that time.”

“No!”  You gasped.  That woman was a legend in her own right.  “That’s fucking terrible -oooo! I hate that man!”

“Relax, Rainbow Brite,” Tony appeared beside you, “I hired her this afternoon so she’ll take notes for all of our meetings with Ross when he’s here.”  He beamed, lifting the lid of your tagine and groaning with pleasure as the steam rose. “That smells amazing.” 

“Thanks boss.”  You grinned, feeling the fuzzy warmth of his praise and the dark satisfaction that Ross wouldn’t be able to bully that poor P.A. anymore.

“You made this?  Should I be worried?”  Tony feigned horror. “Barnes is still alive so your cooking can’t be all that bad-oof!”  He grunted as you flapped the back of your hand into his gut, hard. 

“Stark!”  You growled in warning.

“Okayyy, good talk.”  He bolted with a cheeky grimace.

Bucky held you tight to his chest so you couldn’t give chase and assault Tony with your wooden spoon.  “Easy, tiger.” He soothed, knowing just how to calm your fiery temper.

The team came together for dinner and you all sat on floor cushions around a low table to eat.  You had enlisted the help of Vision to create your Marrakech themed night and you had both outdone yourselves.  Cannibalising one of the conference rooms had been a stroke of genius and, in your opinion, it was a far better use for the room than boring meetings.  The dim glow of the ornate iron lanterns and the holographic fire courtesy of FRIDAY, the makeshift marquee made from brightly coloured fabrics, the smell from the food you’d made, and the soft but authentic music made you feel like you’d stepped through a portal into a souk lounge in the heart of Morocco.

“Next time, let’s not invite the others.”  Bucky murmured in your ear after you had all settled and began to eat.  “It’ll be just you and me,” he whispered, “with a movie, great food, comfy cushions, and cuddles.”

“Sounds like the recipe for a perfect night.”  You sighed, body relaxing at the thought of unwinding with him and a movie, but what movie?  You loved a high-octane action adventure film, or an epic Sci-Fi, but you also loved a good rom-com too.  As your brain filtered through all the films you had on your Netflix list, you zoned out, running on auto-pilot.

“Pardon me, Y/n?”  The words feel foreign; soft but still plenty sharp to snap you back to reality.

You’d eaten with the team, smiled at them when they’d thanked you for making a wonderful dinner, and had been clearing away dishes in a complete daze.  Across the kitchen, Bucky smirked at you from where he was piling plates into the dishwasher. That little shit knew exactly what he’d done.

“Miss y/n?”  Vision looked concerned as he laid a hand gently on your shoulder.  “Is everything alright?”

“I’m good.”  You mentally shook yourself, making a mental note to torment Bucky later, maybe make him watch that terrible mermaid show you found.  “I’m aaaalll good.”

Vision nodded curtly, pausing a moment before he addressed the reason he’d approached you in the first place.

“I’ve taken the liberty of suggesting an amendment for your tagine recipe, to increase the sauce to meat ratio while leaving the delicate balance of flavours intact.”

“Why?  What’s wrong with my recipe?” 

“Nothing is wrong.”  He smiled warmly. “A comment was made that more sauce would have been welcome.”

“More sauce, huh?”  You slid your tray of crockery onto the nearest counter and picked up a tray of baked spiced orange pastries and mint sugared pineapple pieces.  “I’ll take it under advisement.”

When you delivered dessert and settled on your cushion next to Bucky, he squeezed your thigh reassuringly as the chatter quietened while the team tucked into the delicious moist pastries.  He was about to tell you he was proud of you for not allowing your irritation to flare but he didn’t get the chance. He knew you were insecure, underneath the foul mouth and the bravado was a girl who needed reassurance that she was more than just good enough.

“So…”  You cocked your head as the eyes of the whole team fell on you.  “Which one of you bollocks thinks my chicken is dry?”  You pointed your spoon around the table starting at Sam.  “You?” He was always the first to talk shit, even if it was just a joke.  “You?” Natasha fell under your gaze.

“No one said it was dry, sweetie.”  She smiled kindly, seeing your outburst for what it was – you really needed to know you’d done a good job.  You’d felt useless being stuck at the compound while the rest of the team had meet and greets with officials.  No matter how boring they really were, you felt left out. You’d had Vision for company but he didn’t share your feelings. “I just said I’d kill for more of that awesome sauce and Vision, being the pragmatic type, figured he’d save lives and help you update the recipe.”

You huffed a little but relaxed as Bucky laid his arm across your shoulder.  “You know she likes things a bit saucy, babe.” He winked at you.

“Don’t give me that… you big winker!”  You chuckled and elbowed him in the ribs playfully.  “Earlier you said something about movies and cuddles, and I expect you to deliver.”

Bucky was up on his feet immediately, pulling you up and slinging you over his shoulder while you squealed in protest.  “If you’ll excuse us,” he addressed the room, “we have a recipe to discuss.”

“Sounds like a recipe for disaster.”  Sam scoffed around a mouthful of pineapple.

“Don’t tempt fate.”  Nat scolded.

Bucky snagged a couple of colourful cushions and whacked you with them as he carried you giggling from conference room Marrakech.  He was a man of his word and you could expect nothing but relaxation and adoration.  And, as the door of your room closed firmly, you found that you didn’t much mind spending the day apart because he was there now, and always would be.