#and thirteen reasons why

[ghostbustermelanieking]

i just want to say, as a blanket statement... if i ever talk about not liking a tv or film adaptation of a book where they diversified the characters by casting actors of color rather than sticking to mostly or all white casts... i do NOT have a problem with that choice, or with the actors. i'm all for that! the actors are doing a great job. i have a problem with writing choices

[killjoy-prince]

House M.D. but it's when a character says the name of the episode

[ogkatieelizabeth]

“i can fix you”

me:

[cherie-luvv]

Most of my comfort characters are dead or traumatized, that just says a lot

[deathofacupid]

game (headcanon) | clay jensen

a/n: something. i had to post something. (i'm halfway through season three, any requests can only be made in the timeline of season one + two + three! please, no spoilers! (i'll cry.) i wanted to write something, literally anything, to get the creative wheels turning. this is kind of just a starting point for me. italics - clay; normal - ...anyone that isn't clay.

summary: how you and clay became you and clay.

warnings: mostly fluff, some depressive/suic!d@l thoughts (nature of clay), it's 13rw... let's face it, the show tackles some dark stuff.

pairing: fem!reader x clay jensen

word count: 0.79k+ words

-after hannah, clay wasn't great at putting himself out there, especially when it came to girls.

-the biggest thing he'd be worried about was girls. once hannah passed, the main reason he was having trouble was because he was trying to find another hannah.

-clay couldn't help but compare everyone to her.

-it was funny though, because the second he saw you, it was like; who's hannah? the world of "before hannah" and "after hannah" was gone.

-in that moment, when you'd first locked eyes, anything revolving the mere thought of hannah disappeared. he didn't have to think about her, and as selfish as it feels to him, it was refreshing. relieving.

-and you know what? he loved that feeling. he loved the feeling of cloud nine.

-sure, plently of times he'd considered asked you out. and then the thought would hit him like a brick; he's never even said a word to you. how's he going to ask you anything at all, if he can't even utter yet a simple "hi" to you?

-trust me, he tries. clay tries a whole lot. but he'll be inches away, and freeze up.

-part of him is afraid to love again, because what if everything ends up like hannah? like one big repeat? he's not sure if he can live through that again. it was hard enough the first time around.

-eventually, he gives up, choosing to admire you from afar.

-it's luck for him, however, when you're the one to break the ice.

-he remembers it clearly, how you lean over during english lit.

-"clay? do you have any idea what we're doing. because... yeah, i wasn't listening." / "huh? what? oh, uh, yeah- yeah, it's chapters 12-15, questions 1-10."

-he's panicking. you're talking to him.

the second time, you're complaining about your math grade to a friend. he's not even thinking when he blurts out:

-"i can help you. like, tutor you or whatever. i'm pretty good at it." / "wait, really? like, for real?" / "sure."

-clay's non-chalant on the outside, not so much on the inside.

-you seem happy, and instantly, he is too.

-the first thing he does is head into his room, kicking justin out.

-"yeah, okay, well, the adoption papers strongly disagree." / "please? y/n's coming over! i need this to go well." / "y/n? no shit?" / "no shit."

-justin gives in, he's clay's number hypeman anyways. justin lingers in the main house, and then finally wanders to find jessica. that's not clay's concern right now, though.

-it's his room. or more specifically, his shared room. he's freaking out, he hasn't been this nervous since the trial, as he shoves all - i mean all - of justin's crap into the closet, then cleaning up his own.

-he hesisitates over his akr comics, before shoving them in a drawer.

-clay showers, it won't hurt, and spritzes on some of justin's more... masculine colongne.

-half an hour later, there's a knock at the door. he's giddy as he answers it, yet nervous as well.

-"nice house-shed." / "thanks."

-he hopes it a compliment. you're nodding in approval, taking in his room. (shared room.) the little trinkets and trophies.

-and the one akr comic he left out.

-"oh, you read these?" / "y-yeah. i mean, yes. i do. wait- do you?" / no, but my little brother does."

-it's incredible how the conversation flows so smoothly after that.

-after a while, you and him got close. suddenly, it wasn't just study/tutoring sessions, it was hangouts at your place and his.

-everyone thought the two of you were dating, starting with justin.

-he would just be talking to his brother, and it would slip in.

-"how's it going between you and y/n?" / "what's going?" / "dude, you still haven't said anything?" / "there's nothing to say."

-or between his parents:

-"clay, honey, how's your girlfriend? you should bring her over for dinner!" / "we aren't dating, mom." / "really?"

-and more frequently, at school. everyone just assumed you and him were together, and at some point, you stopped correcting them.

-"hey, man, your girlfriend left her jacket in class." / "i'll give it to her."

-somewhere along the line, the difference between dating and not-dating blurred, to the point where you weren't even sure what was going on.

-"hi, not-boyfriend." / "hey, not-girlfriend."

-^became a regular occurence.

-"should we just date? y-you know, because everyone thinks we are... so... it's like-" / "sure." / "okay. wait, really?" / "yeah, why not? i'm suprised it took you this long. i'm literally always flirting with you." / "oh."

-like i said, clay isn't always the best with girls. it doesn't matter though, because you have enough game for the both of them.

[transingthoseformers]

I love how in MTMTE and LL Rung is both robot god and just. Some guy.

And even after it's revealed he's Primus, he's still ultimately Rung.

[slightly-gay-pogohammer]

this post is about riverdale and sabrina and winx club and velma and the powerpuff girls but right now it’s mostly about velma

[lunawintress]

[littlesparklight]

When it comes to Ares being imprisoned in the bronze jar, am I missing something as to WHY people think the gods know where he is and just aren't rescuing him?

Because reading the Iliad, at least, the implication seemed quite clear to me that no one knows where he is until Eriboia tells Hermes????

(And nothing said about whether anyone was looking for him because that's obviously not where the focus is when Dione tells it.)

[reallyunluckyrunaway]

[cnl0400]

Thirteen Birthday Call (Year 2)

While I think this call Is so sweet of her, It makes me a bit sad about how she talks that she doesn't know how to celebrate this stuff, not even with her sister? 😓😓 Please give her friends to hang out

[heavnofhell]

Mark Pellegrino Appreciation VI-XXIV-MMXXIV

[prpfz]

💀🕊

Want to hurt your faves? I'm your guy. I'm looking for pretty extreme stuff here; violence, abuse, non/dub-con - all of your favorite dead dove content. I generally stick to fandom RPs and have far too many interests to list here so here's just a few. MCU, DC, Teen Wolf, Thirteen Reasons Why, Hunger Games, Hannibal. If we chat we can discuss other options because I've got a LOT of interests!

Like this and we can plot in private.

give a like and anon will get back to you

[lesbiantrish]

i think i could heal if people were more crazy about spydoc. btw

[okurrroye]

The wait for percabeth to finally happen is going to be excruciating and I might as well kill myself now because I can’t wait that long

[deathofacupid]

i'll always take care of you | clay jensen

a/n: this post saved me! posting another clay fic fully aware it's going to flop...

summary: clay hates parties, but if you're going, he's going too. someone's gotta watch out for you, right?

warnings: underage drinking, mention of drugs, cursing

pairing: fem!reader x clay jensen

word count: 1.2k+ words

he swears, he swears, he took his eyes off you for less than five minutes to pee. in his defense, clay didn't think you'd go missing in that short amount of time. (okay, he tells himself, maybe "missing" isn't the right word choice if he wants to stay calm.)

now, he thinks - knows - otherwise. clay regrets not asking one his sober friends to watch you, because who knows what might've happened to you?

and now that he's acknowledged the fact something might've happned to you, he's spiraling. hey, at least he's self aware of the fact he's spiraling, right?

yeah, okay, so that doesn't make things better.

he asks around, but the music is too loud, so most people don't even hear him. and if they do hear him, they're "busy". whether it's dancing, grinding, or drinking, he's reached the conclusion that no one gives shits.

he's frantically going back and forth, room to room. clay tries your phone a number of times, though he isn't suprised when it goes straight to voicemail.

as he shoves past more people, heading to the kitchen where the drinks are at (you might be there), his mind is racing with every possibility.

what if someone took advantage of you? and it was all his fault? be, god, did he not learn all the previous times?

he shoulders a drunk couple, and scans the area. empty bottles, alcohol not not, trash the counters, and a number of cabinets are left open. clay takes a few step fowards, accidently kicking a can. he pick it up, and in the process, sees a girl... just lying there.

he makes a face, before realizing it's not just any girl. it's his girlfriend. it's... you.

"y/n? what the hell? where's your phone at? i've been looking for you everywhere!" he exclaims, trying to pull you up.

"shh. sh. look at those stars. god, i just love the ursa major."

"we're inside. those are the ceiling lights," clay says. he doesn't think he's ever met someone who gets drunk like you.

"oh. well, it's still magical."

"yeah, lord praise the electrican," with a slight struggle, he pulls you up to your feet, and you don't resist.

"how much did you have to drink?" he mutters, and it's mostly rhetorical.

"yes, i am."

"no, that's not- never mind. we're leaving."

"nooo. why? we just got here!"

"oh, yeah," he rolls his eyes, "we just got here 3 hours ago."

you whine again, but he just sighs. you aren't normally a heavy drinker, but when you do decide to get out of that comfort zone, you go all out.

currently, it felt like he was dragging around a hormonal toddler. 0/10 experience, he does not recommend. of course, he'll happily do it anyways.

ask anybody really, clay's completely whipped for you. he hasn't felt this was since hannah, and even then, it doesn't feel the same.

it feels deeper.

part of him is afraid he's gonna mess this up, and that his love for you has peaked. but he looks right at you, and realizes that it never will.

"come on, angel," he says, almost pleadingly. the way your eyes gleam at the nickname he's just dropped has him all giddy.

"okie," you make grabby-hands at them.

"is this- are you asking me to carry you?" clay knows very well it wouldn't work out well. he's so greatful you look past his physical strength.

you shrug. "well," clay presses his lips together, "it looks like you can in fact walk, so... let's get to it."

he takes a step to you, and you stumble straight into his arms. clay darts a hand to your lower back to steady you, "whoa."

"i'm good!" you slur.

"and off we go, drunkie."

"'m... i'm not a," you pause, hiccupping, trying to remember the word he used.

"uh, at this moment, you are." he leads you to the front door, and he's so focused on helping you take steps forward, he completely slams into someone.

clay falters back as you fall out of your grip. but as he realizes what's happened, he sees that justin's caught you, and you're pressed up against him. "oh," you murmur, "well, hello there, handsome."

"yeah, okay, no," clay loops your arm back around him, stealing you back from his brother.

"alas, i'm taken," justin sighs. "and you are too. forbidden love, huh?"

clay rolls his eyes, for what feels like the millionth time tonight. "y/n's, like, shit-faced."

"i can see that. you taking her home?"

"your parents are out of town, right?" he asks, turning back to you.

"my... my parents?" you ask, "i have-?"

clay makes eye contact with justin. "she'll stay the night. i don't want her home alone. i assume you'll..." he grimaces, "stay the night with jess?"

"oh, you know it, bro."

clay makes a face, picturing his brother having sex isn't great. he knows he doesn't have to tell justin to do the right thing.

"cool. then you won't need a ride back."

"nope. you aren't drunk, right?"

"i'm the designated driver," clay replies.

"cool. night, by the way," he says, giving the two of you a quick hug.

"goodnight!" you sing-song, individually sounding out ever syllable.

he opens the car door for you, and you squint off into the distance. "look at the moon. it's so pretty. you're almost as pretty."

clay follows your eye line. "that... that is a street-lamp."

you shrug, "you're almost as pretty."

"gee, thanks."

"don't be jealous?"

"it's hard to not envy a street-lamp."

you giggle drunkenly, and a small smile flits over his face, "you're adorable," he tells you.

"i know," you say, matter-of-factly.

"aww, what an adorable narcissist."

"very."

clay chuckles and closes the door, getting in from the other side.

“where are we going?” you ask, squinting at the rear-view mirror in awe. “oh my, that’s me,” you whisper.

"a; my place, b; that's your reflection. wild, right?"

"whoa," is all you respond with. you pull on your seatbelt, adjusting it so you can turn to face him in your seat. "i really, really love you."

"well, you're in luck," he smiles, "the feeling's mutual."

he tries to keep up with your nonsensical blabber, but he doesn't know if he's done a good job. either way, clay's just pulled into the parking lot, turning the ignition off.

"all right," he turns to look at you, exiting from his side, and over to yours. unbuckling your belt for you, clay helps you out.

"to the shed we go!" you cheer, not very quietly. clay clamps a hand over your mouth, "you could quite literally not be any louder."

you bite his hand, and he yelps, pulling it away. "yes, i could!" you argue.

"trust me, i don't wanna test that theory out."

"your loss."

"not really."

the first thing he does is help you change into comfier clothes, an old shirt of his and basketball shorts that don't fit him anymore. clay doesn't have a reason to keep makeup wipes around, but he adds them to his mental shopping list for next time. he grabs a clean rag and wets it with warm water, gently wiping off the makeup.

then it's just you and his in the outhouse, pressed against each other under covers.

"tired?" he asks. you nod simply in reply.

"yeah, me too. now i have a good idea of being a dad is like." he chuckles at his own stupid joke, thinking that if you were sober, you'd say something silly like "okay, daddy".

"thanks for..." you trail off, yawning. clay kisses your forehead.

"i'll always take care of you."