#any time i take 80 years to reply to someone or act really awkward on a friend call i just repeat this to myself a dozen times 👏👏👏

[good-beans]

The wording is kind of off but I can't control the mantras my brain latches onto -- just that people aren't counting on the traits you specifically haven't shown, what they care about is who you already are <3

[sunriseallium]

Regret

NOTES:

This fic is strictly platonic and their characters they play in the dsmp I feel the need to clarify this. Schlatt is a ram hybrid, Quackity a duck hybrid, and Wilbur can be a fox hybrid in this fic

TW: swearing

Summary: Wilbur was asked to help Quackity, to which he soon regrets

Word count: 1825

"Is Schlatt ticklish?" Wilburs head shot up at the question banging his head on the table successfully knocking over an awkward potion from the brewing stand. Quackity quickly caught it as the other male stood up rubbing his head in pain.

"What the fuck do you want Quackity? I'm busy." Wilbur had always been good at acting, especially to people he didn't converse with on the daily. He knew how to sneakily avoid and dance around questions without anyone suspecting anything. The dark haired man crossed his arms handing the taller the bottle and repeated his question.

"and you think I would know why...?" Wilbur put the potion back adding some sugar to it and letting it start brewing. Just because he had company (did intrusion count as company?) didn't mean he could slack. Quackity let out a sigh in annoyance as Wilbur rolled his eyes. Patience was something Quackity was lacking in and it was ever so slightly amusing to the brunet.

"The two of you grew up together if anyone would know it would be you!" Wilbur shook his head to that. He damn wish he knew, he believed once he had gotten a reaction but they had been about age 6 and Wilbur couldn't properly remember. He may have been sworn to secrecy as well. The last time he had even tried to get a reaction out of Schlatt was years ago and Wilbur gave up.

Apparently someone would like to try though. Wilbur debated on giving Quackity false information and see what he does with it and how it would backfire, but he knew that wouldn't work out for him in the end. The shorter would tell Schlatt and then Wilbur would face consequences as well. On the other hand he could use Quackity to test the waters for him,, see if Quackity gets any reaction and then Wilbur can come and help. Ideas flowed his brain, but every one had over a 80% chance of failure. Realizing he was taking long to reply he quickly said no he did not and moved onto the next brewing stand to check the other potions.

"Please find out for me, he'll know what I'm up too the minute he sees me, you though can hide things better." Quackity reasoned. And fuck Wilbur for seeing the logic. Him and Schlatt hadn't been really close in the recent years only communicating when they needed too, and to be honest there had been no reason for the separation. But that did give Wilbur an advantage, he could be sneakier since Schlatt didn't know him as well right now. Some part of the brunets brain whispered not too and how he was going to regret it later, but a larger half was filled with childish curiosity and eagerness.

"Fine. If I end up dead though I'm coming back to kill your sorry ass." Wilbur said but Quackity barely even noticed the threat. He was too busy grinning ear to ear as he thanked Wilbur and left the van.

Wilbur sighed once the other left. How was he going to go about this? Ideas swam through his brain but he could point out way too many flaws in each. One however stuck out. No plan. He could invite Schlatt over or go to Schlatt's place and just wing it. Wilbur was a logical person overall, he liked to think about things and find every flaw and fix it s it's perfect, but that's what Schlatt would expect him to do. If he went in without thinking and without a solid plan Schlatt wouldn't expect it, or he could catch on even sooner. It was a risk but had the most successful percentage out of all the plans. Wilbur quickly invited Schlatt over making some lame excuse that the other hadn't been inside his home (or drug van) yet. For the next hour Wilbur paced around his van, occasionally changing out finished potions for ones still needing to be brewed.

Wilbur got snapped out of his thoughts as he felt heard a knock on the glass. He turned towards the noise and glared, there's a door excuse them never knock on the glass. The brunet walked towards the door of the van and realized that it was probably Schlatt. Had he been lost in his thoughts for an hour? Time seemed to have gone by too quickly though it made sense, the sun was a bit past mid day now. Wilbur swung open the door to reveal the ram hybrid on the other side.

"You tapped on the glass." Wilbur said bluntly. Schlatt grinned, he remembered that used to annoy Wilbur when they were younger. The two stepped inside the van, Wilbur showing Schlatt around. Once the tour was finished (would it be considered a tour? there weren't many rooms), the two stayed in the potion brewing area, sitting on an old couch in the corner Wilbur had recently added. The two socialized for a while, catching each other up from the past couple of years and it was like they had never drifted apart. Wilbur almost forgot what he was supposed to be doing until half way though their visit.

Once he had remembered though he tried to subtly annoy Schlatt by poking and elbowing sneakily and then playing it off as just annoying him. No reactions yet but Wilbur wasn't going to give up. It was close to the time when Schlatt was supposed to be leaving, the two were outside now and the sun would probably start setting within the next 20 minutes. Schlatt was being particularly annoying at the moment so Wilbur being Wilbur, gave him a swift shove to the side making the ram stumble a bit. The brunet let out a gasp and his eyes widened while the ram looked confused.

"Whats got you shocked Wil?" Schlatt questioned. Wilbur let out a victorious yell  and jumped around.

"YOU FUCKING SMILED! YOU'VE GOT TO BE SHITTING ME, FUCKING HELL YOU SMILED!" Wilbur yelled. Schlatt stared confused before he realized and suddenly Wilbur's behaviour today made sense. He sighed with a fond smile, this exact moment reminded him of when they were younger when all Wilbur would do is try and get a reaction out of Schlatt. it also reminded him how many times he got Wilbur back for that. While Wilbur was distracted in his personal victory party, the ram hybrid shoved him to the ground. Wilbur's brain took a hot minute to realize what was happening but when he did he started struggling trying to escape Schlatt.

"Hey hey we can talk about this." Wilbur said nervously. He had forgotten the consequences while he was partaking in the victory party to which he was now regretting, well mostly regretting. The situation was just like when they were younger and Wilbur was a sucker for nostalgia.

"I forgot you were a nervous giggler Wilby. Come on I'm not even doing anything." He had also forgotten Schlatt was good at teases. Schlatt also loved anticipation which made the nervous giggles come out even more. Wilbur had always been good at hiding his emotions but when it came to Schlatt it was like he was an open book. Schlatt knew everything about him. Now Wilbur was actually regretting it.

Then Schlatt struck, his hands digging into Wibur's ribs, kneading gently but quickly. The sound that came before the laughter is something Wilbur will take to the grave. The brunet squirmed and kicked his lanky limbs in an uncoordinated fashion but nothing he did could get the evil ram off of him.

"SHIIIT SCHLAAT- FUHUHCK YOU YOU BIITCH" Wilbur didn't swear a lot normally. He only would to add spice to a conversation or to mock and insult someone (normally Tommy). But as soon as he was being attacked (the other word is so embarrassing to write wtf) he started swearing just as much as Tommy.

"You're a musician right Wilbur? Rate my piano skills for me I wanna see what I can improve on." Schlatt switched tactics to skittering and drumming his fingers horizontally across the taller ribs and stomach. Wilbur squealed then proceeded to yell out a phrase of incoherent cursing.

"So Wilbur how are my skills? I think they're at least a 10, you're smiling so much so they must be good right?" Schlatt grinned knowing any teases made it so much worse for his friend.

"FUUHUHUCKINH SHIT THAAHHAHTS WHAT THEY ARE!" Wilbur managed through his laughter.

"Mhm okay, maybe if I try this they'll be better." Before Wilbur had a chance to process that what he said wasn't the best idea, he felt a raspberry on his side and scribbles song his stomach. Schlatt knew all of his weaknesses and what worked best on him and he just used two death tactics at once. The taller all but fell into silent laughter for a second before coming back with loud but squeaky laughter.

"Still want to insult me Leebur?" The ram grinned as if his friend wasn't a mess of laughter and giggles beneath him. He could see though Wilbur needed more air so he eased up to just scratching gently along his sides.

"Yahhahah." Wilbur graciously took in air before regretting what he said. His mouth worked faster than his logic, which wasn't a very good thing most of the time.

"Oh okay I see how it is. I guess I just have to do this." He moved to the fox hybrids under arms. The brunet tried to pull his arms down as soon as he felt the tickly sensation but Schlatt was stronger overall, even more so as he had tired out Wilbur.

"NOHAHAH FUHHUHUUCK YOU!" The air was gone and he was back to squirming.

"Just say sorry and I'll stop," Schlatt grinned. He had missed this. Back when they were younger this had been the only way to get Wilbur to apologize.

"FINEEEE IM SOHOHORY!" The taller restrained himself from calling Schlatt another curse word, he was reaching his limit now. Schlatt stopped and released his arms before going to sit beside him.

"That was fun wasn't it." Wilbur could beat the smirk in Schlatts voice.

"Fuck you." He glared. Schlatt moved his hand towards his side and Wilbur sat up moving away from the hand making Schlatt laugh.

"Mhm that's what I thought. Have a good day pal, we should hang out again sometime." Schlatt said patting him on the head before walking away. Wilbur waves before laying back down on the grass. The sun had just started setting. Sunset was beautiful, it signified the day was over and a new day will begin soon.

"Why the fuck are you laying on the grass?" Speak of the gremlin. Wilbur looked to the side to see Tommy walking towards him. The brunet shook his head a fond smile on his face.

"Doesn't matter. Let's get back to selling drugs."

[wannawritefast]

Whiplash: Ch. 3- Practicing

A/N: Thank you for your kind words, lovelies! I really appreciate you guys engaging with my work.

Pairing: Gwilym Lee! Brian May x Reader

Pt. 2

Warnings: Mild language, alcohol, again... mentions of Stupid Men... fluffy??? kinda???

You and Brian had worked out that you would split the holiday between your families: Christmas with yours and New Year’s with his. Although you had confirmed with your parents and brother that you did, in fact, have a (fake) boyfriend and, yes, you were bringing him for Christmas, that didn’t make you any less nervous. You weren’t entirely certain you could even pull it off.

Brian suggested acting as if the two of you were a couple before you left for holiday. Just so it would be easier to play the part later.

The whole experience gave you metaphorical whiplash. It wasn’t because of any drastic changes in behavior. It was quite the opposite actually.

There wasn’t a massive change in how the two of you interacted. Sure, there was a little more couple-y PDA. But there was no other change in how he addressed you or interacted with you. That was what was most alarming. And, boy, did people buy it…

“Brian, I can’t just buy cereal for dinner.” You tidily placed the box of sugary carbs back on the shelf with a pointed look at the curly-haired man and continued pushing your trolley. Brian followed closely behind but not before plucking the box off of the spot you had placed it on, unbeknownst to you.

Brian underhand tossed the cereal over your head and it landed in the trolley with a clang. You could practically hear the defiance echo through the metal after the brightly colored box cut majestically through the fluorescent lighting. If you weren’t so taken aback, you would have been impressed with the aim.

You halted and immediately looked at your faux boyfriend. There he was, whistling and inspecting another box of cereal with trained attention. You plucked the box out of the trolley and tried to stroll past him but the box slipped out of grasp suddenly.

You whirled around and saw the cereal box in the hand of your favorite curly-haired guitarist. Brian shook it victoriously with a brow raised in challenge and you narrowed your eyes, determined. Oh, if he wanted to play… you could play.

All Brian had to do was hold the box straight in the air while you jumped up desperately trying to reach it. He even taunted you a few times lowering his arm just enough but raising it again when you got close.

“Brian,” you whined exasperatedly. Trying to be angry at him was much too hard when he was chuckling at you with that cocky smile on his face. “Give it back!”

“No way!” He replied. “You’re very cute right now, did you know?”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t relent. And you certainly didn’t let him see the blush spreading on your face. “I see we’re trying to charm our way out of trouble again.”

“Ah, indeed I am,” Brian affirmed with a cheeky smile. You kept hopping up to reach it. You would have to work smarter not harder. “Is it working?”

You huffed a few times, beginning to tire, and blew a strand of hair out of your face and ceased all jumping. He cocked his head in confusion and you pressed a peck to his cheek. Now it was his turn to be stunned. 

Brian’s guard was down and you swiftly pulled the cereal box out of his hand. While he was still in shock you tucked the box into your torso and moved to run back to the spot where you had found it, not unlike a rugby player.

You made it about half way there before long arms locked around yours and stopped you. You squealed in surprise and Brian spun you around dramatically from behind. The cereal remained in your vice-like grip but Brian wasn’t letting go any time soon either. His laugh was right next to your ear and yours joined in.

“You kids are so cute.” A brittle voice sounded from behind you.

You and Brian immediately halted your antics, unraveling yourselves, and stood stiffly next to each other like two kids who had been caught red-handed. Your arm swung the cereal box roughly into Brian’s chest and he grunted. You blurted out an apology.

“No, don’t stop on my account.” An older woman shakily supported herself on her trolley. Her hair was white and her knuckles were knobby and her back was hunched but she smiled sweetly at the two of you.

“I remember when my Harold and I were that young,” she rasped. The woman put her hand on the middle of her chest. You giggled sheepishly to diffuse the awkwardness. “It seems like just yesterday that we-”

“Marianne!” An older man yelled a little too loudly from the end of the aisle.

“I’m right here,” she answered. Harold hobbled over to where she was and put two boxes of chocolate biscuits in the trolley. “Harold, we have biscuits at home, luv.”

“But not the good kind,” he groused.

“We bought them yesterday, darling,” Marianne explained. “They’re blueberry. We only bought them because you said you wanted them. I don't even like blueberry.”

“Well, I changed my mind. I want chocolate biscuits now.”

Marianne rolled her eyes. “You do this every time. It’s wasteful. We’re not getting the biscuits.” She began waddling away still muttering to herself with the trolley after placing the biscuits on the shelf next to her.

Harold watched her with a frown on his face. After making sure that she was no longer paying attention to him, he mischievously put a finger to his lips and shushed you and Brian. You put a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter. He grabbed the boxes off of the shelf and marched slowly but surely after her.

“My God…” Brian muttered after Harold was out of earshot. “It’s like looking in a mirror.”

You hiccuped on your laughter as you watched Marianne scold Harold from the other end of the aisle. “You think so?” You asked.

He hummed contemplatively. “I’m about 80% certain.”

“Only 80%?”

“Yeah, I figure if you don’t murder me before we reach that age, I’ll actually outlive you.”

“Oh, really,” you laughed. “And why would I commit such a heinous act?”

“Because of this.” Before you had a chance to stop him, Brian took his arm and scooped approximately seven boxes of that godforsaken cereal from earlier into his chest and shot toward the basket. He dumped the boxes haphazardly into the trolley and began pushing it away like a mad man.

He made it to end of the aisle and made sure you saw him drift the cart as he turned into the next aisle.

A child… You were fake dating an actual child.

[{...}]

The following weekend your sister came into the city to visit you. When she had originally planned to visit you, you had been sans fake boyfriend. But since you had made the arrangement with Brian, she was much more excited than she had been initially.

Donna took to temporarily living in your flat with extreme comfort. Your cat certainly enjoyed having another person around to dote on him and you certainly enjoyed having someone else to talk to. Brian was a great friend, er, fake boyfriend but it was nice to have another friendly face around.

Having your sister over meant showing her how you lived and taking her to the places that you usually went and that included seeing Queen play a gig.

With an ale in hand, you headed backstage little sister in tow. The people guarding the doors knew you by name and let you pass. Following intuitively the layout of how most pub stages worked (you had been to plenty of Brian’s gigs before to understand) you navigated your way to where the band was backstage. 

“Hey,” you bumped Brian with your shoulder who was turned around, tuning his red guitar.

Brian immediately smiled upon recognizing you. Instead of greeting you with a side hug, he took the mug out of your hand with a ‘for me?’ and began chugging it.

“Hey!” You scolded. You grabbed at your mug but by the time you got your fingers around it, half of your ale was gone.

“That was really good, thank you!”

You kept a tight grip on your mug in case he was getting any ideas about continuing his antics. “I asked if you wanted one!”

“I changed my mind.” He shrugged. “Plus, it tastes better when it’s yours.”

“So you just decided to drink my mug half-empty?!”

“I prefer to look at it as half-full,” a smile spread across his face. Cocky bastard. You batted your palm toward his shoulder and he laughed gleefully at your reaction. Brian caught your wrist mid-swing and halted your assault. You paused standing as still as Brian was.

“If you wanted me to grab you one, you should have told me,” you spoke gently, suddenly calm for some odd reason. “I offered to get you one.”

He still had his hand on your wrist. It wasn’t tight but the contact was there.

“I might take you up on that after the show,” Brian contemplated. He slid his hand down to hold yours and swung your arm playfully. “Thank you for letting me have some of your drink-”

“I didn’t really have much choice in the matter.” The lights on stage slowly turned on.

Someone cleared their throat next to you and you suddenly remembered that your sister was, in fact, present as well. Brian let go of your hand gently and turned to face her.

“Donna,” she supplied with an extended hand. Brian shook her hand firmly with a smile.

“Brian,” he answered politely, “it’s nice to finally put a face to the great ‘Donna.’”

“Likewise. My sister and I don’t get to meet up often but when we do, she does NOT shut up about you,” she looked at you with a giggle.

Your sister really loved digging you into holes, didn’t she? You gave her a pointed look. The realization of her lack of filter dawned on her suddenly.

“Not that she doesn’t talk about other things! She talks about you a normal amount. Definitely not obsessively or anything like that!” She rushed out her words in a poor attempt to fix what she had said. Donna smiled at you like she had smoothed everything over.

“Please make me sound more creepy, Donna.” You iterated through gritted teeth.

Brian chuckled. “Aw, you couldn’t be creepy if you tried.”

“Thank you, Brian.”

“Maybe a tad pathetic,” he joked with a grin. “A little sad, perhaps.”

“Yeah?” You lightly smacked his arm. He laughed in response. “Keep talking, poodle.”

Roger jogged up to the two of you. “Hey, Y/n,” he greeted with a charming look. The drummer clapped his friend on the shoulder. “We’re about to go on.” Roger suddenly noticed Donna next to you and turned up the charm. “Hello there. I’m Roger.” He extended his hand toward hers.

Donna smiled back at him and grasped his hand as she introduced herself. “You must be the drummer.”

“You’re a smart girl, how’d you know?”

“You’ve got drumsticks sticking out of your pocket.” She explained. “I have good eyes.”

“They’re beautiful, too.”

You rolled your eyes and groaned. But neither your sister nor Roger heard you. Your sister giggled and twirled the end of her hair around her finger.

Not this… anything but this… 

Brian chuckled and put an arm over your shoulders. He rubbed the side of your arm. The body of his guitar lightly rested against your side.

“I’d be more than happy to give you some private drumming lessons after the set.” Roger took the drumsticks out of his pocket and twirled one of them skillfully in his fingers. “How’s that sound?”

Before she could get another word out you interjected, “Yeah, that’s not happening. Turn it around and march it away, Rog.”

Roger faced you with a scoff. “But-”

“Did I stutter? Move it along, casanova.”

“Y/n!” Your sister scolded incredulously.

But you didn’t pull your gaze from Roger. You narrowed your eyes at him as he defiantly pressed his lips together. “Fine.” Roger stalked away.

“Are you kidding me, Y/n?!” you sister asked. “He was cute.”

“He does this with literally every girl, Donna.”

“Whatever.”

Brian turned back to directly face you and pulled his arm from your shoulder. “Anyways, I’ll take you up on that drink offer after the show, darling.”

If trying to repress your blush from his pet name wasn’t enough, he grabbed your open hand suddenly, pressed an exaggerated kiss to the back of it, and let it drop to your side. Brian walked to the huddle, leaving you dumbstruck with a half-finished mug of ale and an irritated younger sister.

It took you a moment to come back to reality and go back into the fray to watch the show.

[{...}]

The set ran unbelievably smooth. But to be fair, they usually played without any noticeable mistakes.

As per routine, you went out with the band to get drinks and you did, in fact, buy Brian a drink. He claimed to have been joking but you still got him a mug of ale.

The two of you together waited for the round that you were covering at the bar.

“How was the set?” Brian asked, leaning sideways against the bar and facing you.

“Horrible,” you sighed exaggeratedly. Brian’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m kidding. It was wonderful as usual.” You patted his cheek affectionately. He gnashed his teeth at your hand as you pulled it away.

He glanced over his shoulder at the table where the rest of the band, Mary, your sister, and a groupie were sitting. Your eyes followed his quick glance.

“And what’d your sister think?” He asked.

“Still a little cross at me for preventing the Roger situation. She’ll get over it by the morning though and-”

Brian cut you off. He turned back to you, looking down and fiddling with his fingers. “No, darling. Not about Roger. What’d she think of the music? Me?”

You smiled at Brian. He was nervous. There was certainly no need to be. “Donna loves you, Brian. And she loves Queen.”

“Really?” He questioned. “You’re not just saying that? I want to make a good first impression.”

“No,” you exclaimed assuredly. You grabbed hold of his hand. “She’s really impressed with you guys.” Brian let out a casual sigh of relief, feigning no big deal, but you knew better. “It’s impossible for people not to like you, Bri. What are you so worried about?”

Brian inhaled like he was going to speak but the bartender set down mugs on the counter for you to take. Only half of the round. You asked Brian to wait for the other half of the order and you walked to the table with the first half only to find your sister and Roger heatedly arguing. Freddie was leaned against Mary in amusement and John was fiddling with his wallet in his hands as if this was a common occurrence.

“Are you joking?!” Roger exclaimed. “Have you seen the way they look at each other?”

“I think I know my sister. Now pull your head out of your ass before I kick something else in that region, prat.”

“I know Brian.” Roger iterated. “I’m not a dimwit like you.”

“Perhaps your drums have affected your hearing so I’ll say it slower and louder,” Donna leaned forward exaggeratedly and Roger rolled his eyes angrily as the groupie sat back with her arms crossed, simultaneously irritated by the lack of attention and overwhelmed by the anger. “BRIAN. AND. MY. SISTER. ARE NOT DATING. Okay. Do I need to write it down for you too?!”

“No!-”

“Good!” She brought her mug of ale to her lips. “Its not like you’d be able to read it anyways.”

Roger weakly mocked her by leaning forward childishly and imitating her voice before retorting. “You don’t see what we see on a regular basis. You’re just visiting.”

“I’m her sister, you wanker! She tells me everything.”

Brian appeared next to you with the mugs in hand. You had been frozen to the spot in shock and amusement of the situation. “What did I miss?” He asked from the corner of his mouth.

“Look! They’re right here,” Donna turned to you and gestured her arm at you. “Why don’t we ask them, hmm? Are you or are you not dating?”

You and Brian looked at each other momentarily before beginning to stammer.

“Well, technically-”

“-it’s for a challenge with-”

“-and we’re staying the holidays with each others’ families-”

Roger halted the two of you assertively. “Wait, so you are?”

“No…” Brian’s voice went high in consideration. “Not technically.”

“How do you mean?”

You handed out the mugs as Brian and you explained what was going on. You both sat down in the booth with you in between him and your sister; Brian rested his arm on the top of the booth behind your shoulders as you leaned comfortably against his side. Roger sat scrutinizing the backstory and the explanation.

“Let me get this straight,” Roger shifted in his seat and gestured to you and the guitarist, “The two of you are fake dating over the holidays because your brother,-” he switched to gesture between you and your sister “-amongst other male members of your family, is a pillock who won’t leave you alone unless you’re dating someone even though you’re more than adequate without a boyfriend. No offense, Bri.”

“None taken,” Brian shrugged and took a drink from his beer.

“Did I get it right?”

You and Donna looked at each other for a moment before nodding at each other. You turned to Roger. “Yep.”

Roger, with his sunglasses on, nodded at you and Brian for a moment and finally put his arm around the groupie. “Yeah, and what‘re the two of you going to do once the holidays are over?”

You were taken aback for a moment. Brian and you suddenly looked at each other, both startled. You stopped leaning on him. Neither of you had considered what would happen after the holidays.

Brian scratched the back of his head and took a swig of his beer before answering, “Well, I suppose we go back to normal. Being friends. All that.” He took another swig of his beer.

You hummed in agreement and took a big gulp of the alcohol in front of you. “Yeah. We’ll go back to how it was before this arrangement or whatever you want to call it.”

Donna scoffed to herself. “Have you met our family? If Brian comes out alive, he certainly won’t come back normal.”

“He’ll be fine. They deal with crazy fans every weekend. It’ll be a walk in the park.” You leaned into his side again. 

“What if it doesn’t work,” Mary inquired sweetly. “I mean, I hope it does for your sake but on the off chance it doesn’t…”

“It just has to.” You answered with a shrug. “I have faith in us.” Brian brought his arm down to rest on your shoulders and he rubbed your arm.

“Well, what if it does work?” The blonde drummer asked. You cocked your head in confusion. 

“How do you mean?”

“What if it works a little too well and they end up really liking him? What are you going to do next year?” Roger asked. 

John spoke up too. “Yeah, what are you going to say if they ask about him again and want him to visit with you?”

You were beginning to panic. There was so much you hadn’t thought about. “I’m just trying to get through this year’s holidays. We’ll worry about the rest later.” You polished off the rest of your drink. You needed to get away from the table suddenly; the urge to vomit was bubbling in your chest. You put on a polite smile. “I need to use the loo. Anyone coming with me? Donna? Mary?”

Brian slid off the bench to let you out and you briskly began walking to the restrooms with Mary and Donna in tow.

You threw the door open and took pacing steps. “What have I gotten myself into?” Donna and Mary stepped into the bathroom, watching your distress. “Roger was right. I didn’t think this through at all. My god, what have I done? What if this doesn’t work? What if James doesn’t believe me? Or Dad? Or Granddad?”

“Hey…” Donna began. But you were too wrapped up in your thoughts. You fiddled with the ends of your hair.

“Oh goodness, what if this does work?! What if they want to keep seeing him? We can’t fake date forever! Brian has a life ahead of him. He doesn’t need to waste time on helping me with my stupid family.” You froze in your tracks as your stomach dropped. “What if Brian and I aren’t friends after this?” 

Out of all of the logistical worries and stresses, there was nothing more terrifying than not having Brian in your life. You couldn't bear it if you ruined the friendship between the two of you.

“You’re worrying over nothing, dear,” Mary urged. She stepped forward and pulled you into a warm hug. “One thing at a time, remember? Just like you said at the table.”

You nodded and took a deep breath. Mary was right.

Your stomach lurched suddenly. You ran to the nearest bathroom stall and emptied your alcohol-filled stomach. You’d had quite a few beers since the evening began, even before Queen’s set. Maybe your nerves had been a result of your drunken state… You were drained all of a sudden.

“I think,” Donna pushed open the stall door behind you, “that’s our cue to leave.”

“God, Donna, I’m sorry.” You clutched your forehead. “I know you don’t want to be dealing with hungover-me when you’re visiting.”

“It’s alright,” your sister grabbed your upper arm and guided you up from the floor. “Let’s go.”

You waddled out of the bathroom with a headache pounding behind your eyes and a dizzying ringing in your ears. The two of you headed to the booth together; the after effects were hitting you hard and fast and you were beginning to wonder if you had a touch of food poisoning. You leaned over the back of the booth with your head hidden in the crook of your arm while Donna grabbed your bags.

“Are you alright,” Brian’s voice asked. Everything was much too loud. The music playing. The people chattering. The drinks clinking. The chairs scraping. Your stomach tossed again but you repressed the reflex with a deep breath. 

You shot a thumbs up to him before quietly saying that you had thrown up. You were feeling seriously under the weather.

You felt a hand on your back, Brian’s. “Let me walk you and Donna home.”

“It’s alright, Brian,” you began. It was worth a shot to not pull Brian away from spending time with the band. Deep down you knew he was going to insist on walking you home; he always did. “I don’t want to stop you from having a good time.”

“I’m not going to take ‘no’ for an answer.” Of course he wasn’t. “You and Donna both have alcohol in your system. No good time is worth your safety on the line,” he spoke gently. You leaned on him as he put his arm under yours to support you upright. “Alright, let’s go.”

“I’ve got our bags,” Donna affirmed gently.

You waved a vague goodbye at the table and there was a hum of ‘goodbyes’ as you left with Brian and Donna.

You arrived clumsily at your flat, to the simultaneous excitement and dismay of your cat. He immediately yelled at you for food after yelling at you in greeting. Brian went to feed him as Donna walked you to your bedroom.

Brian, on many separate occasions, although an animal lover, claimed not to be particularly fond of cats. And just as many times as he had said that he didn’t like them, you had caught him baby talking, petting, and even cradling your cat. Not fond of them, your ass… Brian stood in the doorway with your furry baby draped over his shoulder.

Donna helped you clean your face and tucked you into bed. You apologized to her and Brian once again. They both hummed that it was alright.

“You’re sure?” You asked groggily, already feeling sleep tugging at your consciousness.

“Yes,” Brian answered. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll make it up to you. Both of you, I promise.” You slurred.

“It’s alright.”

“Breakfast tomorrow morning and we’ll call it even,” Donna bargained.

“Deal. To both of you,” you agreed through a yawn. “Okay. I love you both. Good dreams.”

You were so tired that you turned on your side and fell asleep almost immediately. You missed Brian set your cat on the bed. And adjust the blanket over your shoulder. And whisper ‘I love you too’ back.

But Donna didn’t miss it. Not at all.

TAGS:

@phantoms-lynn​ @andtheswordwentsnickersnack​ 

[gleekto]

Summary: College AU/Famous!Blaine and Fanboy!Kurt - Kurt POV

Kurt really doesn’t have time to figure out the dating world between being a freshman at prestigious theatre school, LAADA,  and his active but secret blogging life in the Sing!Fandom. So what if Sing! ended last year? There are still fics to read and actors to follow. Especially the uber talented heartthrob lead, Blaine Anderson. He can act. He can sing. He can even dance. He’s gay. He’s out. And he’s only 24. Kurt is willing to twiddle his thumbs and click refresh until Blaine Anderson’s next project.

He just didn’t expect the next project to be on his roommate Rachel’s new TV show.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Even Better Than the Real Thing (4/15)

It takes Kurt until the following afternoon for the haze to lift and for his feet to land back down on the ground after spending the evening floating. He finally logs on to his tumblr and to the entirely unsurprising 13 messages, all anonymous, all asking him if he heard about whether his source met Blaine. He deletes all of them and clicks on his direct message from Mercedes last night.

From LimaBlaineFan to MercedesSing! : Guilty as charged. You found me out.

MercedesSing!: So let me get this straight - Your roommate and close friend is literally working with Blaine Anderson?!

LimaBlaineFan: He’s her love interest. They kiss.

MercedesSing!: Please don’t tell me you’re jealous because you know that’s all acting and you have suddenly gone from number one fanboy to real life acquaintance overnight and there are a good few hundred followers who would be intensely jealous of you if they knew.

LimaBlaineFan: They don’t. And they won’t. But no, I’m not jealous. Blaine is indeed gay, and you know, he doesn’t have a boyfriend right now. Was too difficult to meet someone while on a show like Sing!

MercedesSing!: He did not tell you that.

LimaBlaineFan: He did. And we commiserated about growing up in Ohio - two gay kids. We’re like peas and pod, Blaine Anderson and I.

MercedesSing!: Shut up. You had a heart to heart with Blaine Anderson. 

LImaBlaineFan: Now let’s not get ahead of ourselves. But I can confirm that he  is even more beautiful in real life.

MercedesSing!: This is nuts. I’m happy for you. Hell, I’m happy for me. Do you think he can hook me up with Jo Johnson for some music lessons? Kidding. No not really. Anyways. You met Blaine Anderson. And shit got real.

Kurt and Mercedes plot out just the right amount of info to post publicly on his blog from his “source”. 

My source confirms that Blaine Anderson is a genuinely nice guy, but you’ve all heard that before. He did find out that Blaine sang in his high school Glee club, and oh, he’s single right now. Don’t get any ideas though, fandom, because Blaine knows there’s a difference between a fan and a friend. Anyways, sounds like Blaine Anderson was as cute as ever - oh and he was wearing cherry red shoes.

...

“Let’s go, Kurt. Off your laptop, put away your homework, we’re going to the cast open mic night.” 

Kurt looks up over his computer skeptically. “Open mic night?”

“Oh come on. You don’t even have to perform if you don’t want to. And Blaine asked if you were coming-”

“He did? We talked for like five minutes. How does he even remember my name?” What.

“Yeah. I know it’s weird but I think you’re a good excuse not to have to be networking the whole night. For me too,” Rachel emphasizes. “Come on.”

Kurt nods his head from side to side, feigning indecision but of course he’s going. Blaine Anderson asked for him to come. Or asked if he was coming. Or whatever. He’s obviously going.

...

As he and Rachel are whisked into the Limelight - closed for a private event - by the security guard at the door, he’s sure he has accidentally fallen through a portal into the world of Sing!, with Blaine’s character, Roy Royson, up on stage as usual, serenading his on screen love interest with an unplugged version of an 80′s rock ballad. Today it’s Jack and Diane. 

Only Roy Royson would be wearing a plaid flannel shirt and not a fitted red cardigan with tight dark blue jeans and a navy bowtie. And man, Blaine Anderson can rock a bowtie. 

“He’s good, right?” Rachel gestures to Blaine on the stage, who sees them and gives a wink and smile. What a showman. “Talented.”

“He was on Sing!, Rachel. Not a shock that he can carry a tune,” Kurt shrugs. No way is he letting Rachel know how captivated he is. He’s seen Blaine as Roy perform on screen countless times and then on repeat, but something about seeing the real Blaine, all styled and a touch deliberately flamboyant but also very boyish singing classic 80′s rock, completely holding the live audience in his hands. He’s hard to look away from. By the time Kurt catches himself staring slightly open mouthed and manages to turn around to get a drink, Rachel already has a drink in hand and is sitting at a table with Jesse St. James and a few of the others he met the other week.

Kurt orders a ginger ale with one lime (can’t be caught drinking underage with the high profile cast), and turns towards Rachel’s table where Blaine is now conveniently sitting. Kurt would not have normally dared to sit beside him for fear of spilling his drink from shaky hands, or worse being tongue tied when being asked a mundane question, but it appears that the chair beside Blaine is the only empty one and Kurt is not sure if it’s a punishment or a reward. So it’s facing his fears or cozying up to the showrunner at a separate table. Awkward.

“Great performance,” Kurt starts as he sits down beside Blaine.  “I can appreciate a strong stage presence despite the strange choice of music genre.”

Blaine looks up and his smile widens amusedly as he shifts his chair over to make more room. “Thank you,” Blaine nods and then leans in to Kurt’s ear. “Well, despite the choice of genre, I may have caught you staring.”  Blaine winks. Did he just-

Kurt is mortified but Blaine just elbows him in the side and takes a sip of his beer.  He was caught. But Blaine doesn’t appear to be mad, or embarrassed, or irritated - In fact, he seems happily entertained . Cocky bastard. “Well, my dad is a big Mellencamp fan, and I can’t say I’ve ever had the pleasure of watching a classic performance where the lead is in anything other than stone washed jeans and flannel.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Oh it’s a compliment.” Kurt turns to him. “I did try to do Mellencamp once in a Glee club assignment in my junior year - complete with the flannel. But somehow I couldn’t pull it off. My dad even called me out.”

Blaine laughs, eyes sparkling and staring right at him. Man, that eye contact. “Too forced?” 

“Too straight,” Kurt answers and Blaine laughs again like Kurt is both funny and entertaining. “I think I got a lecture about not trying to be someone I’m not just to impress him. That he loves me just as I am blah blah blah.”

Blaine’s face turns serious. “That’s lucky.”

Kurt stares back. “I know.”

“So you were out?”

“Yeah. And maybe thanks to my dad and my Glee club, I survived Lima. But it wasn’t fun. Guess Lima’s just too narrow for all this fabulousness,” Kurt jokes, gesturing at today’s outfit - lime green tight army jeans with a purple button down and scarf. And of course a heart shaped broach. 

“Lima’s loss,” Blaine says seriously, reaching out to touch Kurt’s arm. Kurt jumps and then Blaine’s hand is gone again. “Well, you’re in LA, now. The fun is only just beginning.” Kurt’s jaw drops slightly and he can feel himself staring at Blaine, again, and trying to stop being drawn to that impossible magnetism.

“Let’s go, Kurt! It’s our turn.” Luckily Rachel pulling at his arm against the magnetic force rescues him.

“What?”

“I signed us up, of course. Defying Gravity. Let’s go.” Kurt normally loves performing. Loves performing Broadway hits. Loves performing with Rachel. But performing in front of his celebrity crush - that was not on his agenda. “Come on!” She pulls him up on stage. Ah well. Good thing he’s a good actor. Game face is about to be in full force.

When they take their bows, the room full of appropriately enthusiastic applause, Kurt lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “That was great, Kurt!” Blaine seems genuinely excited. “You’re a countertenor - You have an amazing voice!” Kurt beams. He has an amazing voice.

Before he can second guess himself, Kurt turns to Blaine and whispers, “Thank you. And I assume your love of Broadway is why I caught you staring.” 

Blaine laughs and chinks their glasses. “Guilty.”

...

When he gets home that night, high from all the performances, from the performing, from talking to Blaine Anderson again, he closes his door and screams silently into his pillow. He grabs his phone and texts Mercedes who is of course asleep in New York City.

Kurt: Mercedes, I’m back. We talked. Again. A lot. He kind of stared at me through my whole performance with Rachel. Which he admitted. And laughed. He even likes my voice. I think we’re friends. Like actually friends.

In the morning, Kurt wakes up to Mercedes’ reply. 

Mercedes: Of course he likes your voice. You’re epic. And friends? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?

[twoidiotwriters1]

Starcrossed Losers 2.II (Josh Wheeler xF!Reader)

A/N: I should’ve told you this earlier lmao but the first half of this season is heavily inspired on the show’s podcast, meaning that the plot follows the podcast’s occurrences of the last episode, if you haven’t you should listen to it, pls -Danny

Words: 2,646

Warnings: Swearing

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to me!

It takes me about fifteen minutes to go back to the mall, my mood has improved and it only gets better once I see the main entrance. Josh made this graffiti of a sunrise on one of the stores' windows to represent our tribe: Daybreakers. I thought it'd be cool to make a bigger version of it and hang it outside the entrance; so that's where it's proudly hanging.

"Where were you?" Alex walks up to me. "We just got a whole box of medical stuff, we need to store them!"

"Glad I didn't miss it," I grin.

As I make my way through I get a glimpse of the small little groups that have settled on the mall and that you probably wanna know about. We'll get there, don't worry. We have time. Right now I have to hurry.

'I fell in love again All things go, all things go Drove to Chicago All things know, all things know'

Wesley passes by, he sees me and hollers.

"Our Doc is back! Any good news, Y/N?"

"Take a guess," I smile brightly. "I have to go and store some things, but I'll see you in a moment, okay?" Wesley raises a brow.

"I don't see why not," He smirks. "I have my own business to attend right now, anyway..."

"What business?" I ask.

"We had this idea for a race across the mall and it's about to start. I'm supposed to be the one who gives the green light so I gotta get moving."

When he says 'we' I know he means Angelica, Josh and him, they're always doing this fun and exciting competitions, and it's been barely a week! They're supposed to make us grow closer, we're about 80 people here, which is quite a lot. A mix of cheeramazons, gamers, former jocks, and og daybreakers. But I know pretty much everyone personally, I have to, I'm their healer after all.

'We had our mindset All things know, all things know You had to find it All things go, all things go'

"Who brought all of this?" I ask Alex while we put the little boxes on each shelf.

"Leila and Tyler, they were doing their rounds when they found this a few blocks away, they're mostly from abandoned houses..."

"Good job, Leila and Tyler," I say in amazement.

"So how did your meeting go?" Alex raises a brow.

"Oh my god, I feel like the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders," I sigh heavily. "Sam finally accepted our offer, but there's a few things I need to talk with the others. I still think everything's fine, though."

"I'm glad, the jocks were the only tribe that was acting up, it was about time..."

"You know it was all Maya's fault. I hate her."

"Don't we all?" He snorts. "She's still living her best life?"

"Sam still has her there with her in the Queen's office, so of course."

"Y/N!" Angelica runs into the pharmacy and hugs me briefly. "Took you long enough! How did it go?"

"A total success," I grin, hugging her back. "But you know, since you're here I'd like to talk to you about some things the jocks are trying to get. I know you'll say no, but I'm still obliged to say it."

"So tell me."

"They're asking if it's on us to provide food for their movie nights."

"Fuck no! They have a full fuctioning orchard and they want us to give them more food?" Angelica frowns.

"It was Maya's idea," Alex says over his shoulder.

"Yes," I roll my eyes, "but Sam wasn't exactly against it, so I had to ask. I did tell them it wasn't likely to happen, so it's okay, we can say no, they agreed to it anyway."

"Good, because we won't agree to that."

"Done!" Alex turns around with satisfaction. "You can go and take off those skates. God, your poor feet must hate you."

"They're used to it," I laugh. "I won't say no to a well-deserved nap, though..."

"Now that we have all of those deals with the tribes, what's next?"

I'm about to answer when I see Josh approaching with his signature grin. He gets over to where I'm standing and lifts me off the ground in a swift movement. I'm aware we're being sickengly cute, but we're still in our 'honeymoon' phase, we tend to be cheesy. I laugh and put my arms around his neck before he puts me back down.

"How's your day going?" He asks me, clearly expecting to hear about the Jocks.

"Well, dearest leader," I smirk, taking off my backpack and rummaging through the papers. "I'm pleased to announce they finally accepted. They're trying to force us to provide the snacks, though. But all you have to say is no and that'll be it. Sam will understand, she's the one growing food, she can't expect us to give away ours."

"You're serious?" Josh asks. "That's awesome, Y/N! I knew you could do it!"

He leans down to kiss me, but before we even touch Angelica yells at us.

"Hey, if you guys can keep it in your pants for a moment," I hear her beside us. "KJ's looking for you at the gamers station."

"Oh," I frown. "What for?"

"I don't know, I think there's some problem with the signal, the gamers' WIFI is slower than the one in the cave so they're whiny about it."

"That's not something I can fix," I roll my eyes. "I'll go and listen to them."

"I have to go back to the Cheeramazon station," Josh comments. "I just wanted to know how it went with the Jocks."

"And here I was thinking you were glad to see me," I tease, and he chuckles. I put the notebook in my backpack. "Oh! Before I forget..."

I tell them about the Tribes book and how they'll send a jock at some point during the week to ask about the subdivisions and all. Angelica thinks is a bit silly but she agrees to receive the jock anyway, Josh agrees with it a hundred percent, he thinks this is the final step to become a real tribe. I agree, it took us a long time to find a home, we're happy.

'I was in love with the place In my mind, in my mind I made a lot of mistakes In my mind, in my mind'

When I find KJ I see that there's an actual crisis happening. Aria and her are arguing and they only stop when I arrive, both coming up to me at the same time.

"The wifi is-"

"I think someone is trying to hack-"

"–We can barely play tetris on this shit-"

"Hold on," I huff. "Aria, you said someone is trying to hack into your computer?"

"Not my computer, the whole net," Aria continues, pleased to see it was her concern the one I decided to talk about. "It's weird, and we're having comunication problems with the other tribes, the signal falls every half an hour."

"I'm no expert at tech," I frown. "Why were you wanting to see me?"

"She says it's my fault," KJ replies. "I helped Angelica with the set-up for the gamers division and the solar panels on the movie theater, she thinks I fucked up the signal."

"It's because we didn't let you join back into our lines, just admit it," Aria rolls her eyes.

"I don't want to be in your stupid tribe! I'm fine here!"

"Enough!" I interrupt them, "Aria, as much as we want to be good hosts while you're our guests, I must ask you to not start fights with the members of my tribe, the daybreakers will always be my priority. KJ, maybe try not to react so aggressively with our guests? Listen, I'll talk to Angelica so we can find a solution, I bet there's something we're missing here and I doubt it has to do with KJ's abilities. Give me two days, alright?"

Both girls nod, KJ glares at Aria one last time before leaving.

"We appreciate your efforts, Y/N," Aria tells me out of the blue. "I wasn't trying to be rude, it's just... even if Triumph is no longer a thing, there might still be threats out there, it's better to remain informed, and for that we need a strong internet connection."

"Yeah well, I'll see what I can do," I give her an awkward smile. "You think the cave's renovation's will be done anytime soon? Not that I'm kicking you guys out, I just... my kids are getting nervous about the lack of food and..."

"One more week and we'll go, I promise," Aria tells me. "We're working no it."

An hour later during lunch, after I tell the whole story to Wesley and Turbo, both seem happy that my meeting was a success.

'Is everyone alright?' Turbo asks me.

The cheeramazons and Josh have been teaching sign language to all of us, so Turbo's life is improving now that he can speak to more people than before. He's also healing, and if I manage to do things correctly, he might be able to speak again in a few months.

"The jocks are just fine," I reply happily. "Don't worry, Sam is taking good care of your boys and girls."

He nods, though I can see he's a little sad about being thrown away from his former home, I know how that feels like. Sort of.

"You know, Doc, I'm really proud of you," Wesley raises a brow. "You went for it, took a place in the community and slayed your demons, now look at you! You're a higher power in our youth!"

I laugh at his observation.

"I'm doing the bare minimum," I shrug.

"It's more than I ever did during my time with the jocks as second in command," He sighed. "But still, you should be proud, sister."

"I'll be, eventually," I say simply.

Before we can continue our chat Josh sits down next to me and offers me water, which I accept with a soft 'Thank you'.

"So what now?" He asks me.

"What do you mean?" I tilt my head.

"You made deals with every tribe there is, now what's the next thing on your list?"

"Keep them going," I reply matter-of-factly. "Just because they said yes doesn't mean it'll stay like that forever, you know? We gotta mantain our relationships healthy and strong, perhaps we could organize events for all the tribes to join us... like New Year's Eve, or another Prom night..."

"Woah, hold on there, Miss President," Wesley scoffs. "We gotta focus on our tribe first. Our food is lacking, so are our living space and medical supplies."

"Well perhaps is because you won't stop organizing dangerous competitions where half of our kids get injured, our supplies would be fine otherwise," I point out.

"Don't take away their joy, Y/N," Wesley says. "Turbo's with me in this one, right?" He turns to his boyfriend and the boy nods.

'Kids need the distraction' Turbo explains. 'So they don't start fighting each other.'

"I know that," I sigh. "We'll find a solution, okay? I'll think of something..."

"You look exhausted," Josh says worringly, he stands up and then helps me to do the same. "C'mon, let's take you to bed."

"Just don't be too loud, it's the middle of the day," Wesley yells at us from his place once we're halfway gone. Josh and I turn to him in outrage.

"Is not- we're not-" I try to say, but the words tangle in my head.

"I'm just walking her to the mattress store!" Josh replies, blushing. "I wasn't going to put my hands down-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence," I say.

We share a look but we quickly turn away.

The thing is, Josh and I haven't had sex. We made out a couple times when we were alone, but those times are gone, more so with eighty people walking around the mall at all times. Besides, I've never had sex in my life and I'm terrified of the possibility of getting pregnant during the apocalypse, I mean, that equals to be asking for a painful, slow death.

Josh understands that, and he said he'd wait. He even said that if I never want to have sex that's okay too. But who knows if that's the truth, Josh is an eighteen-year-old. He won't be understanding all the time.

Now that Wesley killed the mood we walk in silence until we reach the mattress store, Josh puts a hand on my shoulder and looks at me, struggling to speak.

"I... uh-" He shakes his head lightly. "I..."

"I know," I say with a reassuring smile. "Wesley's joking. He knows we're not... that I'm not ready."

"I know that too," He frowns. "I... You know I care about you, right?"

"Of course," I grin. "Don't worry about it. I really want to take a nap, so is it okay if I go?"

"Yeah, totally," He removes his hand from my shoulder and gives me a shy smile.

I nod and start my way towards the nearest bed, but an arm grabs me by the waist and turns me around. Before I understand what's going on Josh's lips are on mine and he's kissing me.

It's a good kiss, firm and loving enough to relieve all the tension from my shoulders. When we part I see the softness in his eyes looking for approval. I let out a short laugh.

"What was that for?" I ask in amusement.

"Was it okay?"

"It was great."

"Good," Josh nods, still looking quite insecure. "Just making sure."

"Okay, you freak," I giggle. "See you in a while..."

When I wake up from my nap it's around 7 pm and I still feel a bit groggy. My phone rings and I pull it out to see a notification from Spotify. It's from the podcast the AV club has been doing for a while. I eagerly unlock the phone, it's a reminder that I haven't listened to the last two episodes and that last episode I heard ended in quite a confusing moment. I was afraid they'd been hurt, I'm glad to see that's not the case.

I like those kids, last time they did an episode to honor Eli's death. They also talked a bit about Hoyles but no one really ever liked Hoyles. Eli's part was sweet.

As I start listening to this episode Melissa says they're hiding from some kids in suits? And not many things make sense, why would they be following them? They also talked about their strange poly relationship but that wasn't the point.

The point is that the AV club was about to die, and there was no one listening.

I fearfully click on the next episode, waiting to hear they escape.

'I made a lot of mistakes I made a lot of mistakes I made a lot of mistakes I made a lot of mistakes'

"This isn't about spying like the germans gathering all kinds of intimate information," Melissa aka Harvard continues in a panicked voice, "and we are most definitely not being forced to do this by a tribe that has tak-"

The audio cuts there for a moment, but that's all the confirmation I need.

We have to save the AV Club.

"Josh!" I run out of the mattress store, looking everywhere. "JOSH!"

'You had to find it (I made a lot of mistakes) All things go, all things go (I made a lot of mistakes)'

"Wheeler!"

"Woah! Hey!" Josh's body crashes against me and stops with an amused smirk. "What's going on? Did you have a bad dre-?"

"We need to gather our kids now," I say quickly.

"What? Why?" He replies, stepping back from me.

I gulp, panic raising through my body and cutting my breathe.

"We're being watched."

Taglist.

@letsbe-queer​ @slythermyg​ @loving-u-3000​ @one-loud-mind​

[timeagainreviews]

My Series 10 Rewatch: The Pilot

Hello friends! If you caught my last update, you'll know I took the last couple weeks off to study for my Life in the UK test. My test was on Saturday and I am happy to report that I passed! I think it took me longer to go through security than to take the actual test. After two weeks of studying, I am very much ready to get back into the groove of talking about Doctor Who. We now continue with my series ten rewatch!

The title "The Pilot," is an interesting choice for the first official episode of series ten. While it references the plot of the episode, there is also an implication that this story is a bit of a reset to a new beginning. It acts as a pilot to the Doctor and Bill show. Not only had Clara been the companion for basically three seasons at this point, there was also a year of hiatus between "The Husbands of River Song," and "The Return of Doctor Mysterio." It is a weird placement for a final season for a showrunner and lead actor. It's also a weird place to drop a brand new companion.

This new version of Doctor Who opens with the Doctor as a university professor teaching possibly the worst class on campus, that everyone seems to love. His star pupil is a girl named Bill, who isn't actually a student but loves his lectures. Speaking of star pupils, there is also a love interest for Bill in the form of a girl named Heather, but more on that later. The Doctor's office at the university is peppered with references to the past. On his desk sits a jar with the sonic screwdrivers of previous Doctors, like an assortment of pens. There are also portraits of River and Susan. And tucked away in the corner of the room sits the TARDIS, with an "out of order," sign hanging from its doors.

The first time I watched this episode I started to groan at the fact that the TARDIS was out of commission. Not because it should never happen, but more that I expected this to be incredibly tedious. After several years of Steven Moffat's plot arks leading to disappointment, I was bracing to be underwhelmed. As it turns out, the TARDIS works as good as it ever did. But the Doctor and Nardole are grounded regardless. This is due to the fact that there is some sort of door or safe they've been tasked with guarding, which brings us back to the whole bracing for mediocrity thing. I remember immediately thinking "Missy is in there." Spoiler alert- she absolutely is.

Dumb safes and meaningless promises meant to build up empty intrigue aside, the real reason to get excited for series ten is Bill. I was immediately interested in the concept of a black gay companion with a gender fucky name. I remember when the pictures circulated of her wearing a vintage Prince jumper and everyone was speculating whether she was from the '80s or '90s. This only added to my excitement for her character. As many of you know, I am a big fan of the idea of companions in modern Doctor Who that aren't from modern-day earth. Sadly, as it turns out, she's not a hip '80s lesbian, she's once again from modern-day England. Oh well, at least Nardole is from the future. Though I don't understand why he is suddenly a cyborg that makes whirring noises and drops lug nuts. There was none of that in Doctor Mysterio.

The Doctor calls Bill into his office where he confronts her about attending his classes. He wants to take her on as her personal tutor, despite her not being a student. He mentions that he noticed she smiles when she's confused, which is a good indication that she is openminded and naturally curious. It's even implied that he sees a little bit of Susan in her. I liked that little nod to Susan, though it begs the question why the new series has never had her return. While looking at the pictures, Bill indicates that she has no pictures of her mother before she died.

The Doctor uses this as an opportunity to do a kindness for his new friend Bill. Using his ability to time travel, the Doctor goes back in time to take a shoebox worth of photos of Bill's mother. Nevermind that doing this might change the trajectory of her mother's life, thus undoing any chance that she might meet Bill's father. It's a sweet moment for Bill, but it's undercut by Moffat's shitty writing. Bill notices the Doctor's reflection in one of the photos, but never brings it up. She doesn't even thank him. It doesn't really go anywhere other than to inform the audience that the TARDIS does, in fact, still work.

It's this kind of gay people need tragic backstories for no reason mentality that frames a lot of this episode. While I applaud Moffat's inclusion of a gay companion, it comes off as a middle-aged man's depiction of a young gay woman. There is diversity on the screen, but none in the writing room. This is made all the more apparent by Bill's horrible chips anecdote. Bill has a crush on a student who comes into the cafeteria where she works. So she gives her extra chips every day until it starts making the girl fat. The Doctor asks her why she is telling him this story and she replies with "I was hoping it would go somewhere." As did Steven Moffat, but it didn't. It just hangs there like a fart saying "Did I mention I was gay?"

The next few scenes take place over a montage. We see Bill and the Doctor in their respective student and tutor roles. And we also see Bill having a bit of a social life. Bill catches the starry-eyed glances of Heather at a club and they both stand there on the dance floor staring at each other. There's an implication that the two of them are into each other, but we never actually see anything to show why they would actually like one another other than raw animal attraction. In fact, their few interactions are actually rather awkward and cold. There's about as much chemistry between the two of them as there was between Clara and Danny. Which if you remember was zero.

There isn't really a whole lot of focus on anything other than characters for this episode. Moffat usually writes in one of two ways- heavy on character and light on plot, or so heavy on plot that it sits weird against his characters. This would be the former, as the plot is nearly non-existent. Bill begins to notice Heather around and tries to chat her up. Heather shows Bill a puddle that doesn't make sense considering it hadn't rained in days. I kind of love Bill's reasoning that the puddle is piss from the men on campus. That was genuinely funny. Well done, Moffat. But there is more to this puddle in that it also shows your reflection wrong. Heather notices this because the reflection of the star in her eye isn't where it should be.

Let's talk about Heather for a moment. She's a very odd character. Firstly, there is her eye, which has a defect that gives her iris a star shape. Bill asks the Doctor what kind of defect would do this, but neither the Doctor or the show has an answer. Much like Moffat's running gag from "The Curse of the Fatal Death," said- I'll explain later. But later never comes. Other than her eye, Heather's other two biggest traits are that she's most likely a lesbian and that she wants to leave. Her personality isn't really all that important other than to act as the thrust for the plot, which is sadly from another episode of Doctor Who altogether.

Doctor Who is a very old show. It’s bound to repeat itself. Chris Chibnall ripped off "The Silurians," wholesale with "The Hungry Earth/Cold Blood." I get that this was necessary as a means to re-establish the Silurians and why they've remained underground. But on other occasions, Doctor Who seems to repeat itself out of sheer laziness. Remember when the library in "Forest of the Dead," saves everyone at their time of death? Or when Missy plucks people out of their timeline at their time of death? Or when the Testimony records people in history at their time of death? Or when the Thijarians comfort people at their time of death? Because I do. So it's not surprising that when Moffat wants to steal from another episode, he steals from one from his own stint as showrunner.

The episode I'm talking about is "The Lodger," written by transphobic Brexiteer shitlord- Gareth Roberts. In it, a spaceship disguised as a top story flat lures people to their demise while searching for a pilot to take it into space. The ship's main criteria for a pilot is that the candidate be someone with wanderlust. Does any of this sound familiar? That's the exact same M.O. of the mysterious puddle. It latches onto Heather because it senses her desire to travel and extrapolates that into consent to take over her body and use her to pilot it around the universe. However, another part of Heather's psyche has kept it earthbound- a desire to be with Bill. If you remember correctly, this is very similar to how "The Lodger," ended. Craig and Sophie's desire to stay together is what kept them from being reduced to ash by a machine too stupid to realise it was killing its host.

Now, I understand that it sounds like I'm ripping on Moffat quite a bit, but I actually do like him as a writer. "Heaven Sent," is one of the best episodes in the entire history of Doctor Who. This one, however, is not great. After the puddle overtakes Heather's body, it begins to follow Bill everywhere. At first, Bill thinks the puddle is Heather, but her creepy Midnight-esque repetition of everything Bill says is enough to raise suspicion. Bill begins to run to the safety of the Doctor, where she finds him and Nardole fussing with the giant safe. The room in which the safe is located only lets friends inside, which is either telling or worrying as the puddle is able to simply wash into the room under the door. As I watched the water flow down the stairs I found myself feeling forgiving toward the effects department from "The Horror of Fang Rock." Green blobs beat slow-mo water any day.

For no reason other than it needed to be more spooky, the puddle screams like a wraith every time we see it. I loved the little addition of Heather's wet mascara adding to her ghostly appearance. The Doctor, Nardole, and Bill take a trip around space and time to see if they can shake the puddle. But no matter where they go, the puddle is never far behind. For a creature made of water, it certainly is thirsty. And trust me, that's far better a pun than the one I was considering. The WAP references were just too low of a fruit.

For reasons I can't exactly pinpoint, the Doctor decides to take the chase right in the middle of a battle between the Daleks and the Movellans. While I love the return of the Movellans in all of their Rick James majesty, it's a very weird scene. As far as I can devise, the Doctor is merely trying to see if the puddle can withstand the blast of a Dalek. It almost feels like Moffat needed to wake the audience up with a jolt of Dalek action. Up to this point, there has been very little tension. What I can't figure out is what Nardole is doing with the Fourth Doctor's sonic screwdriver the whole time. From what I can tell, he's shutting doors, closing off the corridors and locking Daleks out. Maybe? I really don't understand.

The Puddle takes the form of a Dalek just long enough to make us worry that maybe Nardole didn't get them all. Watching the Dalek disintegrate into a puddle of water was genuinely cool. I was reminded of things like the clear Dalek from "Revelation of the Daleks," or the visible innards of the teleporting Dalek in "Remembrance of the Daleks." I like it when the show does weird visual stuff with the Daleks. It's part of why I love Davros so much. The puddle reforms as Heather, holding out her hand for Bill to take, which the Doctor warns her not to take.

Part of the tragedy of the Doctor's character is how oblivious he is to human emotion. It's part of why he needs human companions in the first place. He couldn't possibly conceive of a situation where Heather's own yearning for Bill might be the cause for all of their problems. But Bill sees this. She sees the human desire underneath all of the scary and so she too reaches out, grasping hands with Heather. What I don't understand is why Heather needed to leave and see the universe without Bill. Why they needed to say goodbye at all is more of that "gays can't have nice things," bullshit I mentioned earlier. Let's walk through the logic a bit.

Toward the beginning of the episode, the Doctor explains that the acronym for TARDIS- Time and relative dimension in space, means life. If you think about this, it's him saying that life is basically you in a point of time and a point of space, relative to you. Thus it explains the very essence of being alive and experiencing the universe from your unique perspective. But toward the end of the episode, he changes this position to mean that TARDIS means "What the hell?" As in, just go ahead and live life how you choose. This comes after the Doctor trying to wipe Bill's mind and deciding he can't. This leads to the Doctor allowing himself to travel, despite the promise he made about the safe nobody cares about. Basically, Heather doesn't get to join in on the Doctor and Bill's travels because Moffat still had to do a thing.

A lot of this episode is neutered by this need to adhere to the season ark. Which I now realise is a major contributing factor as to why I so often forget Nardole is a companion. Nardole is forced to become the Doctor's babysitter, forcing him to hide his travels with Bill. Because of this, we see Nardole as more of an authority figure than a companion. He's the strict schoolmaster the Doctor and Bill are forced to sneak past on their way to adventure. What this does, sadly, is cut Nardole out of a lot of the adventures. The same thing happened to Danny Pink, whose opposition to the Doctor often times left him out of the fun. Also like Danny Pink, it's an arrangement that worked best with Rory Williams and has been imitated to hell and back since.

While I can't consider this episode a total success, I also can't write it off outright. It would be easy to damn it in a "Simpsons did it," fashion for taking its plot from a previous episode. It would be easy to write it off for being plot light queer bait where nothing really happens. I could rail on the inclusion of the Daleks for the sake of Daleks. But I have to ask myself- what is the function of this episode? The answer to this question brings me back to its title. This episode is a pilot for a new iteration of the series. We're in a new place with some new faces, and some familiar ones. The pieces on the board have changed location and strategy. If the function of this episode was to hit reset, I would say it succeeds.

Bill is a very likeable character. You immediately want to see more of her. Her introduction is both charming and endearing. The roundabout way she took to arrive at saying "it's bigger on the inside," seemed less thick than quirky, which is right on the money. You want to see more of her. You want to hear more of her questions. You want to experience the universe through the filter of her perception. We needed a companion who was different from the previous one. It was important that the audience is able to move forward with the new cast. We're not comparing Bill to Clara as many did with Martha and Rose. We're not being asked to forget the past any more than we are being asked to cling to it. This is exactly the right tone and in that way, I find it to be wholly successful.

[istheresomebodywhocanimagine]

New York Minute PT. 2

anonymous said: I saw you say your requests are open (but your bio doesn’t say they are so I totally understand if I misunderstood and I apologize). I was wondering if you could do a ben hardy imagine where the reader and he aren’t together but he gets jealous about one of the other boys (and realizes his feelings) and the rest is up to you ;) thank you! and anonymous said: Ooh could you do an age gap thing with either roger or ben of like roger being in the early 1980s and reader/oc being in their early 20s and Ben being the age he is now with someone in their early 20s??

(a/n: she is here, and she is BIG!!! LORGE!!!1 she’s 13k+ im so sorry anyways theres some more pining in here, boundaries questioned, and mcdonalds. dont say i didnt warn you. also funny joe moments because we love neighbor joe)

"I mean, it's not the first thing I'd want to sit and watch with you guys. It's kinda sad, isn't it?" You were fiddling with the buckle on some strappy high heels as you sat in a chair adjacent to where they were lounging on two folding chairs. They were dressed down, ready for an impromptu night of binge-watching Chernobyl that they'd just planned maybe a couple hours ago, accompanied by a homemade recipe you'd been wanting to try out for a while. You, on the other hand, had planned a Tinder date tonight, but you agreed to help cook and stick around for a while until you went to grab drinks with Jameson, who was lanky, had a small man-bun, and apparently quite an interest in American Pale Ales. You knew that Joe (and probably Ben, once Joe told him) would clown you off the face of God's Green Earth for your choices - but, Jameson was cute, and drinks on him, so why not? You'd asked Joe that exact question as you prepared the food. "What a catch," Joe had teased as you'd worked around him in the kitchen, having directed him to start making the cream sauce for the chicken you were currently baking. 

"Don't act like you aren't any less of a white boy than him, Joe," you snarked right back, sending him a quick scowl before checking on the chicken, frowning when it didn't appear to be cooking very fast. "Did you turn the oven down?" "No- Oh shit, I must have bumped it," he mumbled, turning the oven back up to cooking temp and grinning sheepishly. "My bad." Sitting his spoon to the side, he went to the fridge and grabbed two beers while you started chopping mushrooms, mumbling to yourself about terrible sous chefs. "Dummy. When's Ben going to be here?" you asked offhandedly, remembering that he'd mentioned a specific time in the group chat you were all in. Joe had started it to send a shitty meme to the both of you, after which he'd been properly roasted, and the three of you hadn't shut up since. Neither you nor Ben had taken it to the next step - texting one on one. There was still an unspoken barrier there, and neither of you were brave enough to cross it.  "Dunno. Why? Is he secretly your Tinder date?" Joe teased, popping the top off of the bottle before holding it out to you with a devilish grin. It was eye-roll inducing, and you took the bottle with a small thanks before leaning back against the counter, taking a sip.   "I told you I saw him on Bumble, not Tinder. And I haven't been on there since." "Did you swipe right?" Joe pried, popping the top off of his bottle as well before tossing the two lids in his trash. As he came back to lean his butt against the counter across from you, he wiggled his eyebrows. "He's single, you know. And he doesn't obsess over local brews." "Joe, shut up, Jameson's nice! And no," you admitted, hiding behind the bottle a bit as you took another sip. "I kind of.... exited the app and haven't been back on it since. It spooked me. Don't want to get caught up in that." "Why?" he laughed, a bit of beer trickling over the lip of the bottle before running down to rest between the crook of his thumb and index finger. "What would you have done if you swiped right and you matched? Is he not attractive to you? Is he really that bad?" "No, no, shut up," you groaned, letting your head fall back for a moment before laughing and shaking your head. "It's not that, it's just.... awkward after hearing about all those stories about London and the pubs. I don't want to mess around with someone like that, I'm fragile. And he's your friend!" Translation: Your hot womanizer friend could ruin my life in about two texts and I'd probably still thank him. "Our friend," Joe corrected, taking another sip of his beer and raising an eyebrow.  "Do you really think it's been long enough for us to be considered friends like that?" you wondered aloud, frowning a bit as you pondered the idea. "I mean, I don't want to overstep boundaries, but I guess we do have each other added on Facebook now. And we did have a good talk while you slept on my reclining chair - again." "Boom. Friends," Joe simply replied, gesturing vaguely with his hand to imitate an explosion. "And what about the London stories are so bad that you just cannot consider him at all? I think you guys would be good for each other." "Joe, have you been paying attention to my dating life the last few years?" Raising an eyebrow, you watched as he nodded, still seeming like he didn't see what made Ben the same as the rest of them. "You told me stories about a young, smooth-talking guy who was gifted at the pump and dump and not gifted at the 'get their name and call them the next day to go out for dinner' part. That sounds like.... literally over 80% of the guys who have destroyed my life recently." "Ew... don't call it the pump and dump." He wrinkled his nose in disgusted, then grinned a little bit and shook his head. "To be fair to the man, he had just gotten out of a pretty serious relationship. They were just rebounds." "You're destroying your argument even more. Who's to say I wouldn't be a rebound too if I matched him?" You had him there. Pursing his lips, he looked quizzical, as if he was questioning his own argument, and it took him a few seconds to gather his thoughts before he shrugged reluctantly. He had many things he could say to you, but he was running out of ways to say them. "Exactly. I cannot be another rebound. And imagine how awkward that would make things between all of us if I was!" "It would only be awkward if you let it be awkward." When you rolled your eyes, Joe frowned, clearly frustrated with how you weren't budging an inch - he really thought you two would be a fun match, and he didn't understand why you were failing to see that. Sighing, he took another drink of his beer before sitting it on the counter and crossing his arms. "What do you think of him? Honest opinion, no bias from what I've said before. Just your impression of him these last few weeks." "Honestly?" you echoed, taking another drink of your beer as you thought back to all the exchanges you'd had with him since he'd moved here. "I thought he wasn't really like the guy you told me about at all." Joe's frown slowly morphed into a smug grin, and you gave him a warning look as you tried to shut it down quickly. "That doesn't mean anything! Guys like Ben are really good at seeming harmless! I'm not convinced-" "I can already hear the wedding bells." When you sent him an unconvinced look, he just laughed and reached out to gently push your shoulder. "I'm just joshing ya! He's really not that bad. Like I said, all those stories I told you about going out with them in London are only partially fact. I was pretty drunk." "He seemed nice the other night, so I really don't want to know which parts are true. I'd like to keep a somewhat pristine, at-arm-length image of the dude," you dismissed, grimacing a bit. "He is cute, though, I will give you that. All of you damn actors are lookers and it pisses me off." "Was that a compliment?" Joe asked after a brief silence, raising an eyebrow. "You sounded so mad, I couldn't tell." When you rolled your eyes in response, he just rolled his eyes too before crossing his arms again. "If Ben's cute, why didn't you swipe right? You don't have to keep him at distance, what's the harm in being closer than that?" "Dude, you don't understand!" Huffing softly, you looked up at the ceiling for a moment and attempted to collect your thoughts - and more importantly, your half-assed excuses. Closing your eyes, you tried to be as level as you could, speaking almost in monotone. "I know that Ben is out of my league, and he probably just sees me as your weird neighbor girl. He's like, a solid 9.9 and on a good day I'm pushing 7. I also know that he's got too much game and he'd easily ruin my life. And he probably swiped left!" Opening an eye, you peeked over at Joe, who was watching in amusement, and pointed your finger. "Don't make a joke about Jameson." "I didn't say anything!" he laughed, holding up his hands in surrender, and you sighed before opening both eyes and turning to burying your face in your hands as you propped your elbows on the counter. "Oh, come on, stop being such a drama queen. It's not that deep. You're both young - well, you're a little younger-" "Wow, no shit, Sherlock," you grumbled, not even moving an inch. "As I was saying," he snipped, narrowing his eyes a bit at the rude interruption before continuing. "You're both young, single-" The sound of the door opening stopped him in his tracks, and you shot up from where you'd been wallowing in your own self pity, turning to the stove quickly to see the cream sauce turning an odd consistency. "Joe, seriously, who taught you to cook?" you lamented quietly, grabbing the pan and making a frustrated noise before pouring out the sauce that he'd managed to scald already.  "I let down my guard for two seconds and you do this? Now we gotta start over, dummy!" "No one! No one taught me to cook!" Joe answered in mock frustration as he gave you a knowing look, snickering a bit when he shuffled past you to get to the fridge again, his hand just ghosting over the small of your back to scoot you out of the way. You reacted like it was instinct, moving over and letting him into the cramped area as you turned the other way, headed to rinse out the sauce pan in the sink when you suddenly saw Ben in the doorway, looking a bit sheepish that he'd walked in on such an oddly domestic scene. Offering him a rushed smile, you turned on the warm water before turning to give Joe a gentle but firm kick in the butt, making him cry out in confusion and whirl around to give you a really pissed-off look. But the look only lasted for a moment as he pretended to just notice Ben, and a delighted smile quickly replaced the insulted scowl as he sat the cream down on the counter, shutting the fridge behind him. "Hey, bud, you hungry?" he asked, once again skirting around you to greet his friend with a quick handshake and a one-armed hug. Turning to face them, you placed a hand on your apron-clad hip and smiled a bit at the bromance. The apron on you read 'EAT MY MEAT' in bold white lettering atop the black fabric, and Ben couldn't help but chuckle at the juxtaposition between the aggressive statement and the homely kitchen it currently resided in.  "We're making enough for four," you chimed in, giving Ben a pointed look and smiling pleasantly. "One for me, one for you, and two for Mr. Black Hole over here." "Oh my God, I can't help that I'm hungry sometimes! Why do you always have to roast me for everything?" "Yes, yes, yes!" you cheered excitedly, clapping and jumping a few times as Joe returned to making the cream sauce. "You said roast!" Joe's face scrunched up for a moment, then he huffed softly and shook his head, bowing it a bit. "I fuckin' did, didn't I? I hate that. We're not allowed to hang out any more." Snickering at his upset tone, you greeted Ben with a quick hug before grabbing the other apron on the counter and holding it up, raising an eyebrow in silent question. Ben looked down at himself, gesturing at the stained gym clothes, and you shrugged as Joe started talking again, unawares of the silent conversation. "So I was thinking we can eat and watch Chernobyl, maybe get a little crazy on some American Pale Ales before Y/N leaves," he hummed, laughing when you sent him a withering look and smacked him with the apron. "I'm not letting it go, dude! You were the one who fucked up and told me about the pale ales!" "Joe, I'm literally trying so hard just to find someone decent, so what if he's a white boy that's snobby about beers? I'm running out of options," you lamented, sitting the apron down on the counter and pouting a bit as you went to check the chicken again, huffing when the inside temp only read around 140 degrees. "So close." "Tinder date tonight, huh?" Ben asked, taking over on the mushrooms that you'd neglected as he looked over at you. There was a somewhat hesitant look in his eyes, and you nearly choked on air when he took a deep breath and added, "Or is it Bumble?" An awkward silence quickly fell over the three of you - both you and Ben had talked to Joe about it, but neither of you had any idea about the other reaching out. So many words left unsaid hung in the air as you straightened up again, shutting the oven and forcing on a smile despite your embarrassment. What a fucking cheeky bastard, just blatantly throwing that out there like that. Maybe he was more alike to London Ben than you'd thought. "Um, no. Tinder, actually." And that was that, Ben looking back down to the mushrooms with a mildly amused expression as he finished slicing them, the three of you lapsing into another momentary silence. "Well," Joe finally sighed, giving the both of you an awkward smile as he turned back to the cream sauce, putting the seasonings in again. "I'm really banking on the slim chance that I have some Lactaid in the medicine cabinet." To punctuate his sentence, he dipped his finger into the cream sauce to taste test, humming in appreciation as you looked on in mild disgust, however thankful you were for his diversion. "Are you for real? I'm not taking care of you if you don't have any," you chastised gently, Joe pouting a bit at your harshness and crossing his arms. "I'll take care of you, mate," Ben offered up, holding out the bowl of sliced mushrooms for Joe and grinning when Joe gave him exaggerated eyes, taking the bowl and blowing a kiss at him before starting to saute the mushrooms in the extra skillet you'd been heating on the back-burner. "I'll go check and see if you've got a few left." With that, he was wiping his hands on his shirt, nodding at you before leaving you both alone. As soon as you heard his footsteps retreat down the hallway, you turned to Joe and let your jaw drop, Joe doing all he could to not burst out in laughter as his knees buckled a bit, a hand flying out to steady himself on the counter. Throwing his head back, he let out a quiet gurgling noise akin to an animal dying as a smile practically cracked his face in half, his amusement with this whole situation having grown tenfold in the last minute or so. "That was so...." you trailed off, genuinely shocked that Ben had felt cheeky enough to hint at something so personal for the both of you, and you furrowed your eyebrows at Joe's continued silent laughter, crossing your arms. "Why are you laughing? Did he talk to you about it too?!" "It might have come up," Joe admitted between inhuman noises, his face red from the effort of silencing his peals of laughter. He conveniently left out the part where Ben had been pestering Joe about what you'd said about him all week - Ben had swiped right, after all, and the longer he didn't know if the feeling was mutual, the more antsy he'd gotten. "Joe! Are you fucking serious?!" you whined, trying to keep your voice down as you peeked down the hallway quickly before throwing your hands up in a questioning manner. "What did he say?" "I will not disclose any discussions between me and my client-" "Oh shut up shut up shut up!" you whisper yelled, quickly trying to rush Joe and smack at him but getting caught at arms-length when he reached out and pressed a hand against your forehead, effectively stopping you in your tracks. "Joe, this is so unfair," you almost whimpered, dropping your hands to your side as you leaned into his hand, huffing. "That was so awkward! Did you hear how smooth that was? I'm going to be so mad when I get on Bumble and find out he swiped left." "I think you're underestimating yourself waayyyyy too much," Joe laughed, resting both of his hands on your shoulders like an encouraging coach as he grinned down at you. "And what about the arm's-length thing? I'm not going to tell you what Ben said about the Bumble thing. Whatever it is, it's between you two. You're both adults." "Joe, please," you whined, pouting so exaggeratedly you probably looked like a five year old asking for one more Girl Scout Cookie as you gazed up at him sadly, trying to guilt it out of him. "I need validation." "Stick that lip out any further and birds will shit on it, kid," he teased, snickering when you just gave him a wilting look and stopped pouting, instead crossing your arms. "Aw, come on. Cheer up, stupid. He told me he liked your bio on Bumble! Is that enough?" After considering it for a moment, you shrugged and tried not to look as grumpy. "I guess." Pursing his lips, Joe deadpan stared at you for a moment before smiling cheerily and reaching up to pat your cheek in a friendly manner. "It's not a no!" At that moment, Ben popped back around the corner, holding a slightly used box of Lactaid and raising an eyebrow when he saw Joe's hand quickly retracting from your face, dropping to his side, but not before his fingers brushed against your cheek. It was glaringly intimate from an outsider's perspective, but all you felt was Joe's grimy hand leaving shit behind on your face. As much as you wanted to continue throwing a fit, especially with the added awkwardness from what Ben had just 'witnessed,' you stepped away from Joe and picked up the spoon next to the stove, forcing anything but a pout onto your lips as you wiped your cheek off on your forearm. "Looks like your boyfriend's got your anti-diarrhea pills." "Stop calling them that!" Joe sighed, exasperated as he turned back to the mushrooms. "I can't help it that my taste buds love dairy just as much as my body hates it." Ben sat the box down on the counter, watching as you gave the cream sauce a quick, indifferent stir. You were really just trying to find something to do to avoid facing the blonde anyways, but he didn't seem to mind as he leaned against the counter across from the two of you, crossing his arms.  "Anything I can do to help, MasterChef and MasterChef Junior?" You smiled at the names, Joe furrowing his eyebrows for a moment before looking over his shoulder at Ben. "I'm not Junior, right?" Ben shrugged, feigning apathy, and Joe made an appalled noise before huffing a bit, turning back to focus on the mushrooms. Giggling quietly, you looked over your shoulder and nodded to the fridge. "There's bacon in there. Do you want to slice it up into little pieces so Joe can add it to the mushrooms in a bit?" Uncrossing his arms, Ben pushed himself up off the counter and nodded with a smile, which you reciprocated before turning back to the cream sauce and chewing on your lower lip. You could hear the sound of him shuffling past, his proximity so dangerously close that you could have sworn you felt the heat radiating off of him even when he retrieved the bacon from the fridge, tossing it on the counter where he'd been chopping mushrooms. You heard the sound of him cutting into the package of bacon with the knife. What you didn't expect was a clearly disgusted noise from him, followed by a slightly rancid smell that immediately made you wrinkle your nose and look at Joe, who was making the same face. "I think the bacon's expired," Ben finally said, and you both turned to find him standing there with a pallid, overly-greasy piece of bacon pinched between his fingers, dangling down in front of Ben's mildly horrified face. "Jesus, Joe, I thought you said you had bacon," you groaned playfully, wiping your hands off on your apron before peeking around Ben to see the whole package was expired. "That smells awful!" Joe was silent for a moment, mouth open as if he was trying to find the words to say before he began to stutter. "Well - I did, it just looks kind of....." "Disgusting," Ben finished for him, dropping the piece of bacon back in the package. "Do you have more anywhere?" When Joe shook his head, you grumbled and sat the spoon down, heading for your apartment. "I think I still have some. Ben, can you keep an eye on the sauce so Joe doesn't cause any other disasters?" "Yes, ma'am," he replied cheerily, Joe whining in indignation as you grinned, grabbing your phone and heading back over to your place for a second. As you walked across the balcony, you unlocked your phone to check a message from your friend when the app icon caught your eye. The yellow square, with a white, honeycomb-ish icon in the middle, taunted you as you slowed to a stop, your free hand resting on the door handle. Glancing back over to Joe's side of the balcony, you made sure they weren't on your tail before looking back to your phone and biting your lip. Should you do it? Maybe Joe was right. "No, no, no, don't be stupid," you muttered. Pulling open your door, you retrieved the bacon without so much as looking at the Bumble app again. And you managed to avoid it for the next hour while you helped Ben get rid of the spoiled bacon, eventually getting the creamy bacon mushroom thyme chicken finished and in your stomachs, after which you started to get ready for your date while they took a quick break on the folding chairs just outside Joe's balcony door. Whatever they were expecting, it clearly wasn't what they saw as you slid open your balcony door, stepping out in a little black dress-type number that definitely cut the conversation off immediately. They both stared shamelessly, making you suddenly regret getting all dolled up when you still had an hour to go before Jameson even planned on dropping by to pick you up. In fact, it made you regret getting dolled up at all as you tugged at your hoop earring, smiling sheepishly.  "That bad?" you joked, but from the look in your eye, Joe could tell you weren't exactly completely cocksure at this exact moment, so he flashed you an encouraging grin and shook his head. You read like a book, and no one was more in tune with you than Joe. "Far from it. You'll knock him dead, kid." Taking another sip of his beer, you spotted the mischievous glint in his eye too late, his mouth already dropping open to continue before you could redirect the conversation. "Don't you agree, Ben?" "Huh? Oh yeah, mate, for sure," Ben stammered, feeling like a deer in the headlights as he nervously kept his eyes above your neckline. "You'll be the prettiest bird in the place. Jaden will have to keep an eye on you." "Jameson," you corrected, grinning a bit at the compliment and trying not to laugh at his failed attempt of remembering your date's name. Chalking it up to forgetfulness, you fell down in the chair on your side of the tape line, leaning down to adjust the buckle on your heel. "But thank you. Both of you." "Ready to watch Chernobyl?" Joe asked, kicking a cigarette butt that Ben had just stomped out and watching as it tumbled over the edge of the concrete, falling to the sidewalk below. "I mean, it's not the first thing I'd want to sit and watch with you guys. It's kinda sad, isn't it?" Frowning, you finished adjusting the buckle and bent down to check the other one, Ben checking you out for just a second before turning to Joe to send him a distressed look. Joe only pressed his lips together, fighting back a snicker and stifling his words completely with another drink of his beer. "Let's watch something else. Let's watch BoRhap." Groaning, Joe dropped the hand that held his beer to the armrest on his chair again, letting his head fall back in annoyance. "Not again!" "Why do you want to watch that?" Ben asked curiously, crossing his fingers that you wouldn't say it was your favorite movie, but you only shrugged and grinned before sitting up again, running a hand back over your hair. Joe answered for you. "She likes watching so she can.... roast me. Started as payback when I printed out a bunch of pictures of her in middle school and posted them all over the building. Which was payback for God knows what. Which was probably also payback." "Oh," Ben said quietly, a slow grin appearing on his face as he looked between the two of you. "I'm all for it, then." "That's the spirit!" you cheered, standing up and holding out your hands for the both of them. Joe grumbled as he took your hand, pulling himself to his feet and shooting both of you dirty looks before stomping inside. Ben took your hand next, and you helped him to his feet with an excited grin before pulling him inside, dropping his hand just past the door under the watchful eyes of your neighbor, who couldn't suppress a knowing smile before he grabbed the remote, flopping down on the couch. You had an interesting concept of what arm's-length meant. And so you sandwiched yourself between the two of them on the couch while the movie started, Joe's arms propped up on one arm of the couch while Ben spread his arms out over the back of the couch. You were hugging your waist, legs tucked to the side and your knee just barely brushing up against Ben's thigh whenever he'd shift to get more comfortable. He was manspreading, which came as no surprise to you - every Ben Type you'd known before was especially gifted at taking up an abnormal amount of space. But Joe was curled up and slightly turned away from you, his arms crossed as if an instinctive need to defend himself was setting in. Soon, Ben knew why. "That perm..... iconic," you laughed, Ben snickering along with you as Joe pressed his face into his hands, groaning quietly. "Somehow, the wig manages to add a staggering half a foot to your height and you're still almost the shortest one in the group." "Why is no one making fun of Ben's wig? Why am I being targeted here?" he asked exasperatedly, Ben gasping in mock hurt that Joe would try to redirect. "Ben was probably wearing heels anyways!" "Wow, mate, way to try and change the subject. Why do you want me to be bullied too?" "Why do you want me to be bullied too?" Joe repeated mockingly, shooting a withering look at the both of you as you giggled incessantly, reaching over to elbow Joe teasingly. "70's suburban mom wig. It's a 70's suburban mom look! You look like you nail rail cocaine on the reg but also think rock and roll is the devil's music." Raising an eyebrow at Joe, Ben stared with narrowed eyes for a moment before tilting his head indicatively at the screen, where Joe was in his full glory with his perm. "Joe, is that your hair, or did someone throw a toaster oven to you while you were in the bath?" Your eyes widening, you laughed once and pressed a hand to your mouth, impressed with Ben's saltiness. "Who am I kidding, why would you be in a bath?" "Cleaning you out of the drain," Joe fired back almost immediately, casually turning his attention back to the screen despite his bitter smile. "Bold of you to assume I don’t bathe anyways, you still currently smell like the Bay of Pigs with that rotten bacon shit." "Joe, holy shit!" you yelled, looking at Joe in shock before bursting out laughing and turning to Ben. He was almost shocked, jaw slightly slack as he stared over at Joe in what seemed to be a mix of surprise and mild offense. "Ben, you're done for! Joe literally just insulted the way you smell and also called you one of the biggest failures of the last century. Roasted!" "It was a military failure.... fuck you both," Ben weakly shot back, running out of ammo as you and Joe both turned on him. "Why do you always say roasted? You Gen Z shit." "Wow! Okay?! I was born like maybe 6 years after you. You're like... not even a decade older. And I'm not Gen Z. Stop acting like I was in the womb while you fought in the Bay of Pigs. Even if you do smell like it." Joe burst into a fit of giggles, burying his face in the armrest next to him as he kicked his feet a bit, beyond amused at how quickly this had turned on Ben, who was now staring at you in shock. After  another few seconds of silence, he shut his mouth and pushed himself up from the couch, smoothing a hand over his hair and letting out an exaggerated sigh. "I'm sensing hostility and I think this is my opportunity to leave for a smoke break so I can cry about how all of my friends like bullying me." "No, no, we're just joking!" you laughed, leaning over on Joe and covering your mouth to stifle the giggles as Joe nodded weakly, trying to contain his as well. "Yeah, come on, Ben, we're just fucking with you!" "Why should I sit back down if I smell like the Bay of Pigs?" Ben pointed out, and you rolled your eyes playfully before reaching out and wrapping your hands around his wrist, tugging him back towards the couch. "We like you even though you're stinky. Come back and finish the movie with us!" Even though it passed over your head like a bad joke, your pull on Ben was magnetic. Joe watched, amazed as the usually hard-headed blond just rolled his eyes and sat back down next to you without another protest. Joe couldn't have pulled him from a smoke break even if he'd gotten on his knees and begged, but one teasing, pleading moment from you and Ben was seated right back next to you, his arm around the back of the couch and resting near your shoulder as you made a content noise and settled back into the couch again, redirecting your attention to the TV. That's when Joe caught Ben's eye, trying to send him a subtle 'You're fucking whipped and she's not even at full power' look, but the blond just furrowed his eyebrows, failing to decipher Joe's cryptic gaze. "Aw, shit," you mumbled, distracting the both of them just as Joe was about to make a kissy face. Both men shifted their attention down to your phone, where a text chat was pulled up with none other than Jameson. "I gotta bounce, I'll see you guys later." Rising from your seat, you smoothed down your dress over your curves before heading for the door, the heels clicking against Joe's wooden floorboards. "Pray for me, 'kay?" "Pre-marital sex is a sin!" Joe called after you, grinning as he heard your laugh resounding down the hallway just before the door was opened. And then, you were gone, leaving the both of them to spread out a bit on the couch in silence before Joe finally broke it again. "I'm turning this off." "Yeah, might as well," Ben cringed, settling into the couch more and watching as Joe switched his Roku back to the main menu. "Might actually have that smoke break now." "Oh no, Ben, don't leave. We want you here even though you smell like rotten bacon," Joe schmoozed, fluttering his eyelashes for dramatic effect as Ben laughed, flipping him off and sitting up a bit. "Man, the power of the p-" "Stop, I was just being nice! It has nothing to do with... what she has downstairs." Grimacing, he afforded Joe one quick look before he was focusing on the screen again, nervous for whatever reason about the conversation at hand. Huffing softly, he decided to turn it on Joe before he got the upper hand. "Besides, you're the one that let her convince you to turn on this movie and get roasted for a full hour! And you guys looked pretty cozy when I came back with your anti-diarrhea pills." "Lactaid. Just.... call it Lactaid," Joe grumbled, pulling up Netflix and scrolling through the choices slowly. "And we were not cozy. I was just comforting her, is all." "About what?" Ben pried, raising an eyebrow and looking dreadfully curious about it all, a sly grin just showing on his lips. "Looks like you two were just about to snog to me." There's certain types of people who like to be blatant matchmakers. Mrs. Bennett from Pride and Prejudice comes to mind - a person who very clearly is sizing up every eligible bachelor just to place them with a daughter, or a friend, etc. They take pride in very obviously urging a pair of people together, and then like to take credit for it afterwards. Joe was not one of those people. As much as he wanted to match-make with you two, he was not the type who was going to lay it all out on the table for either of you. It wasn't his place, and it certainly wasn't his battle, so he told a little white lie, one that piqued interest but also completely concealed what was really happening.  "Dude, she's a little bit too young for me, don't you think? And she was nervous about the date tonight. Doesn't want it to go wrong. Completely innocent." "Sure." Ben remained unconvinced but painfully curious, quiet as Joe finally settled on That 70's Show, snuggling back into the couch and wrapping his arms around a pillow that laid in between him and Ben. "Does she go on a lot of bad dates, then?"  "Oh, tons," Joe replied, fighting back a smug smile as Ben went down the exact path Joe had so graciously opened for him. "She's really good at picking the douchebags, you know? A talent that a multitude of women seem to possess for God knows what reason. The one tonight is a real doozy - hear me out." Turning so he was facing Ben, he lifted his hands and formed a picture frame in the air for a second, then grinned. "Jameson. 33 years old. Scrawny looking guy. Man bun! And here's the best part - he's passionate about American Pale Ales." "Oh, Christ," Ben laughed, rolling his head back to let it rest on the couch while he shook his head. "I feel bad for her!" "I don't!" Joe countered, waving the thought of dismissively with a flick of his hand as he went back to watching the show. "She's capable of making her own shitty decisions. We just get to hear about it afterwards." "I still feel bad, though," Ben hummed, raising his head again to stare at the TV for a few moments before clearing his throat, glancing at Joe quickly. "Did she say anything about Bumble, by chance?" Joe smirked. Not a good sign, Ben thought, but he tried not to panic as he watched his friend take another drink of his beer, keeping his eyes glue to the TV and nonchalantly tapping his fingers on the armrest. "Not really. She's only been on this Jameson guy for the last few days and I think he was Tinder." "Oh." Silence followed, then Ben shifted his legs and scratched at his knee nervously, wetting his lips before continuing. "Probably hasn't been on Bumble lately, then, yeah?" "Probably not." Nodding to himself, Ben decided that would have to satiate him for now, and he relaxed back into the couch as much as he could while the sound of Hyde roasting someone went in one ear and out the other. "Jameson going to last long?" "With the way she acts?" Joe tore his eyes away from the screen slowly, meeting his friend's gaze. "No way." Hope flooded Ben's heart once again, and he tried not to smile too wide as he nodded again, trying to play off his excitement with an offhand joke. "If she's so mean to us, imagine how she is to rubbish dates." The two of them considered the thought, then burst into laughter and looked back up to the screen, slowly quieting down and just watching the show with almost imperceptible grins on their faces. --- you: guys you: i'm swearing off of men forever joe-brainer: Finally! joe-brainer: How was Jameson? you: I'M STILL HERE you: i've heard about the difference between hops and malt THREE TIMES you: and he's really serial killer material he's creeping me out you: and he's got an accent?? big ben: Ouch, that's rough. Why are you texting in the middle of a date? you: why are you texting in the middle of ur date you: with joe joe-brainer: Yeah Ben wtf. I thought we had something. big ben: I want to see other people. big ben: Back me up please Y/N You giggled, quickly quieting yourself as Jameson returned with your drinks again. It was about your fourth or fifth round, and you were starting to get a buzz that made this date slightly less miserable than it had already been. But that wasn't saying much at all - as you looked across the table at your date, you almost had to fight back the urge to cry at how lost you felt. How in the hell were you going to talk your way out of this one? "Thank you." Smiling softly, you took a sip of the new lager that he'd brought over, fighting back a disgusted expression as the acrid aftertaste rocked you to the core. Jameson just nodded, offering a small smile before taking a disgustingly large drink of his own, apparently unfazed by the bitter taste. Must have been an acquired one. As you pretended to listen, he launched right back into his tangent about English beers - you'd found out he was from Northern England when you'd asked about his accent, and somehow he'd managed to come back around to that fact every 10 minutes or so. His voice was like a drone as you stole glances around the pub, feeling the spinning feeling in your head grow subtly with each word he uttered. God, why were you here? Yet another disastrous date with a egocentric male who found personality traits in mugs of shitty beer made by shitty local breweries with shitty hops. Or malt. Who fucking knows?  "My ex and I actually went to this one village, just outside of my hometown-" Oh Jesus, now he was bringing up his ex. Rubbing your fingers up and down your thigh, you continued to feign interest with a strained smile, but every muscle in your body itched to bolt out of this booth and out onto the street before you were too drunk to walk in heels. God, why did he have to be good looking? That 'no sleep/scrawny/scruffy guy' look always did you in. Ben's name flashed across your screen, followed by Joe, and you sighed softly as you locked the phone again, wishing you could reply. Instead, you flipped the phone over and propped your chin up on your hand, staring blearily at the slight, long-haired man who was genuinely convinced you gave a shit about the 500-year old liquor he got to try with his ex that was probably skinnier and prettier than you - and he'd probably bring that up by the end of the night too.  As your stomach rumbled, you slid your free hand to rest on it, regretting that you'd ate so early with Joe and Ben. The chicken had done nothing to tide you over, and the beer was making you crave disgusting things. Images of greasy fries and shitty frozen-patty burgers tantalized you from the back of your mind, and it was all you could do not to sprint down the block to the McDonald's you'd seen on your walk there with Jameson. "I'm going to head to the loo really quick, do you mind? It's all that beer, I swear," he asked, already sliding out of booth by the time you shook your head, sending him off with a warm smile that lasted just a second longer than it took for him to turn around and make his way to the back of the pub. Unlocking your phone, you leaned down to hit your head against the table a few times before pulling up the group chat again, catching up on what you'd missed. The screen was beginning to get a bit blurry, your fingers fumbling as you finally jumped back in. big ben: I don't appreciate being hung out to dry like this Y/N joe-brainer: Ben, come back inside. We can talk through this you: you are both MORONS you: god i fuckin love you guys joe-brainer: Do I spy drunk Y/N? That text was too nice you: idk what's in these beers but it tastes bad and also has fuggggged me up big ben: Uhhhh that's not reassuring. You're buying the drinks for yourself, right? you: asbolutely not you: asbolutey** you: ABSOLUTELY you: not. Joe sent a gif of Jim Lahey from Trailer Park Boys stumbling down the trailer steps, and you replied with a few laughing emojis before locking your phone, putting your head down on the table while a few patrons of the pub looked on in pity. They'd seen your horrid date play out for the last few hours, yet no one seemed to want to step in for the drunk girl who was minutes away from kicking off her heels and taking the subway barefoot if it meant getting away from this self-obsessed, stuffy Brit. Jameson had been throwing you off all night. When you'd found out he was from Northern England, you were excited because you'd picked up a few things about Ben's home country from him over the weeks. But Jameson was different. He wasn't as friendly, for starters. Also, his accent was more aggressive, harsher on the vowels and generally less friendly on the ears than Ben's was. Ben. You missed him. Your mind was all over the place, but those green eyes taunted you from the recesses of your brain, warm and inviting and so clearly not here right now that you felt like crying. Ben would be so nice to see right now - memories of his lush accent lured you even further away from the date at hand, and you couldn't even see a single reason to stay here and be miserable any longer when you had an even better Englishman at your disposal.  So much for arm's-length. "I can't do this anymore," you finally groaned, pulling up the group chat again and hurriedly clicking Joe's name, texting him 'SOS send help' in a sloppy manner before locking the phone again, climbing up out of the booth and throwing a twenty on the table. Maybe you'd text Jameson later, apologize for ghosting, but you doubted you would as you stumbled out of the bar, texting your location with another quick 'S O S send englishman i need back up' as you slumped down on a bench around the corner, unbuckling your heels with trembling hands. If this date were any different from the last few that you'd had, you might have been upset. But the alcohol in your system coupled with the constant disappointment of this city's dating scene numbed you to the horrifying disaster that you'd just went through for the last few hours. Your phone buzzed, but you were so worried that it was Jameson that you silenced the ringer, instead heading  for (see: drunkenly stumbling towards) the McDonald's sign that blazed just down the block. Meanwhile, Ben was in a panic. He'd been in the bathroom when he received two texts from you that he assumed were meant for Joe, a drunken mistake out of context that set off a very loud, persistent alarm in the blond's head. Though, it had to be noted, he did get a chuckle out of 'send englishman.' At least you were talking to Joe about him. "Fuck, pick up, Y/N!" he muttered quietly, calling you again to no avail. He'd been trying to contact you since you'd sent your location - however, you had all but dropped off the face of the Earth, currently enjoying a Big Mac and a large fry in the window seats of the dingy McDonald's somewhere in Manhattan. "God damn it," Ben muttered, your phone going to voicemail once again as a million possibilities whirled through the blond's head. You could be drugged out, kidnapped, killed, anything terrible - all kinds of scenarios spooked the hell out of him as he exited the bathroom, Joe still lounging on the couch. "Has Y/N texted you?" Ben asked, Joe laughing at something Hyde said on the TV before glancing at Ben, raising an eyebrow. From the current look on his face, Ben suspected that he hadn't a single clue, nor was he really worried about whether you were alive or dead right now. "In the group chat, yeah," he replied noncommittally, taking another drink of his beer as he looked back to the TV. "She's probably just listening to him drone on about local beers still. Wonder if he's trying to explain how American Pale Ales are superior." "Uh-huh," Ben replied vaguely, staring off at the opposite wall as he tried to figure out what in the hell his game plan was here. If you hadn't texted Joe, would it have been for a reason? Did he really need to bring Joe into his panic too, or should he handle this by himself? "I'm gonna head out, I think. It's getting late. Let me know if Y/N texts you." "Okay, Mr. Worrywart," Joe teased, giving a smug grin to the TV that only made Ben roll his eyes before he grabbed his keys, heading for the door. "Bye! Don't forget, same time next week! You better not come back a changed man from Fashion Week!" "See ya," Ben replied, but his head was already out the door and in game mode as he let the door swing shut behind him, heading for his car in the parking garage. As he walked there, he called you again, but no dice. Sighing, he resigned to texting you. big ben: Are you okay? I'm on my way The Big Mac was delicious. You smiled happily as you munched away, completely forgetting you'd just spent the last few hours wanting to gouge your eyes or eardrums out, either or. In fact, you forgot so much that you flipped your phone back over, your fear of confrontation with Jameson filtered out of your mind for the time being. Instead, a few missed calls and a text from Ben greeted you. Furrowing your eyebrows, you put down the Big Mac to reply, fingers still typing clumsily with the weight of the alcohol in your system, grease from the burger smearing on the screen a bit. you: why are you on yourway you: oh fuck HAHAHA i meant to text joe. im sorry you: welp awkward but this works anyways you: but what if i cant finish my bif mac in time you: then what :( At your response, a huge weight lifted off Ben's shoulders as he sighed in relief. You were alive, and getting some food in your system, which was already a good sign. Your spelling and execution? Still a bit concerning, so he climbed into his car and requested your location again, which you obliged to almost immediately. In the traffic on the way, he got anxious. What if you were still with the guy? What if he had to step in? Worse, what if things escalated? He didn't want to have to fight someone tonight, especially someone half his size horizontally, but probably double his size vertically. big ben: Where is Jameson? Is he with you? you: nope you: no idea you: are you on your way im tryinf to eat fast big ben: Don't hurt yourself, traffic is crazy lol. Slow down big ben: For fucks sake, please don't scare me like this again either big ben: When you text SOS from a date, I assume you’re getting kidnapped or drugged or something big ben: Since Joe says you really know how to pick em you: ew wtf you: stop acting like my dad you: do you ever text like a reg person?? you: send a gif once in a while its goodfor ur soul Scoffing, Ben just locked his phone and shoved it in the center console, only digging it out again when he'd reached the location you'd provided. Texting you he'd made it, he watched as you nearly fell off your stool trying to dismount. A worried sigh escaped his lips as he glanced behind him to make sure he was clear before getting out of his car, rushing to meet you as you exited the sketchy McDonald's and cheered, reaching out for him and almost falling in the process. He met you just outside the doorway, your arms flinging around his neck in a messy hug, which he gently reciprocated while mouthing 'sorry' to an annoyed passerby who'd nearly met the wrath of your flailing arms. "Oh, Ben, I'm so glad you're here! I finished my Big Mac!" you informed him, smiling widely and pulling back to watch him with hazy eyes. Trying to ignore how painfully close you were to brushing noses with him, he chuckled to himself nervously and pulled out of the hug, carefully wrapping an arm around your waist to help you to the car. "This is the most excited I think anyone's ever been to see me," Ben joked lamely, but you laughed anyways and sent a light tinge of pink seeping onto his cheeks while he smiled.  As you began to walk, you leaned against his side more, rubbing your stomach. "Tummy hurts a little bit from eating so fast." You were almost dead weight against his side, his broad hand gripping your waist tightly and digging into the black fabric that clung to all of your curves. If you weren't deliriously drunk at the moment, he figured he might have enjoyed that brief contact more - but right now, he was just focused on getting you home. Opening the passenger door, he looked on cautiously as you slid your way into the car clumsily, hitting your head in the process and making him flinch. "You okay?" he asked as he walked around the door to reach out for your head, but you just slid down in the seat, giggling and closing your eyes. "How much have you drank? He's got you silly, love." "Ohhhhh, that's a cute nickname. I love that. Love love," you laughed, letting your head loll to the side before opening your eyes again slowly, smiling widely up at him. "Can you call me that more often?" "What, you mean love?" Ben asked, raising an eyebrow as you raised your hand to your head to rub the sore spot where you'd just smashed it against the car. When you nodded and giggled once more, nursing your head, it was all Ben could do not to grin ear to ear. Instead, he forced himself to give you a small smile, then he nodded once. "Of course. D'you mean, like, all the time?" "Yes, yes, all the time," you confirmed happily, letting your eyes close again as the sound of the hazard lights steadily distracted you, the rhythmic clicking drawing your attention away from Ben for a moment. But you couldn't push the sound of him saying 'love' out of your mind, a deep, velvety baritone in that posh accent that made your skin tingle. Although you couldn't tell whether it was the alcohol making you so susceptible or just the fact that he was so damn good all-around, you had your suspicions that it was the latter sneaking up on you. "God, I'm so fucked. Say it again?" Taking a deep breath, Ben tried not to sound too eager as he crouched down on the sidewalk next to you, steadying himself on the car door and clearing his throat. "I hope you aren't gonna make me carry you all the way home, love." Laughing at his mild teasing, you opened your eyes again and had to look around for a moment to find his eyes, your gaze going from the traffic lights down the street, to some strangers passing by, to the McDonald's sign. Finally, you turned your head to meet his gaze, making Ben's heart skip a beat as that same look you'd given him a while ago made a reappearance. It was tender, a soft look in your eyes almost making it look like you were about to cry.  Oh. You were crying. "Oh fucking hell, what's wrong?" Ben cursed, fumbling for some napkins in his glovebox as a tear ran down your face despite the peaceful smile that still barely graced your lips. Finally locating the napkins, he began to wipe at your under-eyes, his free hand coming up to cradle the back of your head gently, offering him better leverage. It pained him to see you so upset, and he wondered why in the hell you were crying so hard until you leaned into his hand and gave a little laugh, then spoke. "I forgot to get a McChicken for Joe. He gets so mad when I go to McDonald's without him! Do you think he'll yell at me?" The smile slowly disappeared, replaced by a worried look that coupled well with more tears. Ben's eyes widened as he tried to keep up with the waterworks, but his attempts at dabbing away your tears were pointless as they kept coming, overwhelming him. "Joe's going to hate me, Ben! What if he takes my reclining chair?" "No, shhh, he's not going to hate you. Hey, hey, I'll go in and get one for him. How does that sound?" You sniffled at his words, nodding slowly as you gazed at him, teary-eyed and messy from the sudden crying. He used his thumb to brush some stray hairs out of your face, then offered you the napkins. "You stay here and listen to whatever station you want and I'll go get the McChicken, okay?" "Okay," you mumbled, your voice pathetically plaintive as you took the napkins from him, trying and failing to wipe at your tears as well. "You're so nice, Ben. You're seriously the best, I owe you. Joe was wrong." "Stay here, okay, love?" Ben repeated, trying not to think about your words too much, and he shut the door with a small wave goodbye, locking the doors on you for extra measure. As he bought a McChicken for Joe, he stole regular glances back towards his car on the side of the road where it was clearly not supposed to be, considering he hadn't paid for the meter, but he managed to get the sandwich and go before the meter maid caught him. As he climbed back in, you greeted him cheerily, a slap in the face after the gloomy mood he'd just left you in. "Ben, you're back! Look!" Showing her phone to you, he was greeted with Joe's smug grin, a smile that told Ben he was caught in the lie - well, not really the lie, but the absence of information. "Hey, bud. Did you get my McChicken?" Pressing his lips into a thin line, Ben held the sandwich up to the camera and Joe made a satisfied noise before shifting a little bit, getting comfortable on his couch. "Perfect. I told Y/N I'd hate her forever if she forgot." "Jesus!" Ben cursed, a bit horrified that Joe would be so mean to you when you were this drunk, but you didn't seem to register that you were being played as you looked between the two men, a dopey grin on your face. It was placating enough for the moment, and Ben gave the phone a clear look of dismay before turning his car on, shutting the hazards off. "Joe, we'll be back in 20. Y/N, you can hang up." "Okay," you replied happily, hanging up the phone as you both heard Joe yell something unintelligible about his sandwich. Looking over at you, you grinned despite having bloodshot eyes from the crying, and Ben gave you a reassuring smile as he stole glances at you, trying desperately to watch the road but not doing very well. "I'm assuming your date went swimmingly?" he asked, one hand resting on the steering wheel while the other laid on the center console. Driving in America was odd, so he found it weird to be looking to his right to see you instead of his left, but you were none the wiser as you giggled at his words, shaking your head. "You would not fucking believe," you started, your head lolling to the left a bit as you closed your eyes for a moment, trying to focus enough to get your story out. "I walk in and I'm like 'Jameson's so cute, but can I call you Jamie?' and this is what he did!" Turning to face Ben, you tried to make your face as neutral as you can before you deadpanned a quick "No." "What a lovely personality," Ben observed, laughing a bit as you pressed a hand to your forehead, amazed at how heated your skin was. "And then I tried to order a drink of my own but he was paying, so he made me get some drink that seriously tasted like straight ass! And then he wouldn't even let me get anything else but beer, and I don't even like beer! And then he talked about his ex!" "Ouch." Ben grimaced a bit at that, sympathizing with you while you rambled on and on about how awful the date was, ending with some complaint about how the beer wasn't even that cold. "Well, at least it's over now, right?"  Nodding, you slumped down in your seat, not really caring that your dress was ridden halfway up your thigh at this point. Out of respect, Ben glued his eyes to the road, but there was a creeping redness to his face that was pretty much indiscernible to your drunk goggles. Higher powers seemed to be testing him the more and more he hung out with you. Why hadn't you matched him on Bumble? What did you mean 'Joe was wrong'? The worries plagued him, making his finger tap nervously on the center console as he drove. "God, men are just garbage sometimes," you sighed out of nowhere, Ben lifting an eyebrow at your sudden woes before turning on his blinker, staring ahead at the red light. "Surely you don't mean that. Joe and I are men." "Joe is hardly a man! He screen peeks during Mario Kart." Snickering, Ben couldn't help but smile at that, fascinated by your measurement of Manliness. "I don't know if you screen peek, though. Do you screen peek? I'll never forgive you if you do." "Thank God I don't screen peek, then," Ben reassured you, chuckling once more as you sighed in relief and turned to look at him fully. This would certainly not be the first or last time, but you once again found yourself drowning in his good looks, the world around him spinning but everything about him clear as day. The way the NYC traffic lights reflected in his eyes, his messy hair that had been shaved at the sides - how hadn't you noticed that earlier, before the alcohol? It made him look broader, more statuesque than he already was, which seemed impossible. But most of all, the amused smile playing at the corner of his plump lips, lips that made you chew on the inside of your cheek as you fought back the desperate need to lean across the center console and- "I like your haircut," you blurted out, distracting yourself from your own thoughts, and Ben smiled even wider, looking in the rear-view mirror before looking over at you. The skin at the corner of his eyes crinkled adorably as he watched you for a brief moment, his smile toothy and endearing and making him look even more attractive than before. Well, that didn't help. "Thank you. I'm still not sure if I like it, but I wanted to get it cut before Paris Fashion Week, since I fly out the day after tomorrow." "Oh," you replied quietly, images of skinny models and beautiful outfits blurring through your mind. Again, a blatant reminder that Ben was on a completely different level than you - while you had to sit and listen to scrawny men lament about getting paid more than you, Ben could easily take a model back to his hotel room in Paris of all places. A pained look crossed your face, and Ben furrowed his eyebrows in question before looking back to the road, chewing on the inside of his cheek in thought. "That's dope." God, why were you being so lame? "Yeah," he replied just as quietly, baffled as to why you'd clammed up all of a sudden. A minute ago, you were a chaotic ball of energy, crying and cheering and laughing all over the place, and now here you were sinking back into the leather of Ben's passenger seat, tugging at the bottom of your dress self-consciously and forcing yourself to stare straight ahead. You looked hurt, and he wondered if he'd said something wrong again. A minute or two passed in painful silence before Ben cleared his throat, deciding to end the awkward moment and offering you a smile as he spoke eagerly. "I like your dress. It's a shame you had to waste it on such a dickhead. Where was he from, anyways?" "Sheffield. Or some place nearby, I don't know," you sighed noncommittally, resting your head back against the seat and closing your eyes as his attempts to banter with you went unnoticed. The world was beginning to tilt a bit, and being upset about someone who wasn't even in the same ballfield as you was not helping to fix it. "Northern England, for sure." "Oh, fuck those Northern bastards," Ben groaned playfully, smiling wider when he saw the faintest of grins playing at your lips. "I swear we're not all self-important pricks. Don't let him paint a bad image of all of us." "I could never," you murmured, reaching up to rub the side of your face as Ben strained to hear your mumblings over the sound of the radio. Before he had a chance to react, you moved on, desperate to keep the conversation going before you felt like curling up into a self-loathing ball of shame. "Going to Fashion Week to see anyone?" "Nah. Just got invited, is all," Ben replied slowly, still clueless to the jealous heat that was rising from the tips of your toes to the top of your head, making your whole body feel like it was alight. Flames licked at your heart, vaguely stinging, and you tried to push away the pain as you focused on his words, trying to choose your own carefully. "Fun, fun," you mused, opening your eyes slowly and glancing over to see he was casting curious looks at you when he was stopped at another red light, about halfway to Joe's at this point. Suddenly, you remembered that you'd forgotten your shoes at the McDonald's, and you burst into laughter as you pressed your hand to your forehead, a couple more tears springing to your eyes. "I'm such a fucking dumbass! Oh, God, why do you and Joe even hang around me?" "Because it's hard to ignore someone who shares a balcony?" Ben answered tentatively, realizing you were crying again a moment too late and cursing before fumbling for the glove box again, trying to get you more napkins. "Fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that! It was just a joke, love, I didn't mean to make you cry. I swear, I'm not as mean as Joe-" "Ben, shut up!" you laughed, snatching another napkin from the glove box before turning towards your door and dabbing at the tears, in between laughing and bawling at your current situation. "God, you're too nice, stop it! You're supposed to be that Ben that Joe told me about, not apologizing every time I go baby!" Pulling down the overhead mirror, you tried in vain to fix your makeup, sniffling between your slurring words. "I forgot my shoes back there." "Oh. What did Joe tell you about me?" Ben asked curiously, pulling up at yet another red light that was just a few blocks from your apartment building. This one seemed to take forever, though, realization weighing on your shoulders as you wished desperately that alcohol didn't make you vocalize every single thought you had. "I hope it was all good?" "I shouldn't have said that," you hiccuped, reaching up to smack your forehead a few times before laughing and burying your face in your hands, your seat belt struggling to hold you back as you leaned forward and went a bit limp, angry with yourself and upset with Ben for being so curious. "Of course it was all good. God, I'm too drunk for this. Drop me off at the curb and I'll make it back upstairs." It was a green light again. Ben pressed on the gas, side-eyeing you a bit and staying quiet for another block before he took a deep breath, shaking his head. "You said it yourself, you're drunk, so there's no way you are going back up there alone. Friends don't let drunk friends go home alone." Your phone began buzzing, sidetracking any response you could have had to Ben officially calling you his 'friend,' and you lifted it to find that Joe was Facetiming once again. Swiping right, you answered, and Joe's face lit up the screen, prompting a genuine smile from you that didn't go unnoticed by Ben, who was now pulling in to the parking garage he'd just left less than an hour ago. "Hi, Joey!" you answered softly, the sentimental look back in your eyes as you rested your head on Ben's window, watching your phone screen blearily. Ben glanced over at you, trying to keep a neutral expression despite the fact that he was once again convinced that you and Joe were even closer than you appeared. These dates - what did they mean? Were they distractions? As much as he wanted to convince himself that it was just that you guys had been living in blindingly close proximity for over two years, he just couldn't shake the feeling that the touchy-feely nature of your relationship was something beyond that. "Ugh, I told you not to call me that! But hi. Are you guys about here? I snuck over to your place and got your hangover cure ready." Joe's phone shifted, then turned to reveal he was in your kitchen next to two glasses of water and four ibuprofen. "Oh my god," you whined softly, slumping in your seat a bit and fighting back more tears as you smiled at the phone, pressing your hand to your forehead again. "You're too nice to me. I could cry right now." "Please don't," Ben begged, making you laugh a bit in embarrassment and close your eyes, hitting your head against the window a few times. "We're in the garage right now. We'll be there in 5 minutes." "Joe, can you pleaseeeee please please go to my closet and get out my fuzzy white bathrobe?" you pleaded, giving your best puppy dog eyes/pout combo that you could in your hazy state. "I'll do anything." Ben finally found a parking spot, and your eyes lit up when you realized you could climb out, completely forgetting all about your shoes that you'd left behind as you managed to unbuckle yourself and stumble out of the car before Ben could make his way over to help you. Cursing under his breath, he locked the door and shoved his keys into his sweatpants as he hurried over to your side, where you were leaned against the back passenger door of the car and rambling on to Joe about how you really needed your bathrobe to be put in the dryer so it was 'like a warm hug' when you got back. "Why can't Ben or I just give you a hug?" Joe groaned, shuffling through your closet before locating the big white piece of fabric and heading for your dryer. Ben reached around you to shut your door for you, putting the McChicken in his other pocket before raising an eyebrow at you and silently questioning whether you were ready to walk alone again. Confidently, you began your trek back to the elevator, but a few steps and you were already swaying again, steadying yourself on the trunk of his car. Damn, this thing looks expensive. These fucking actors. Sighing, Ben quickly caught up and wrapped an arm around your waist, his keys digging into your side as he supported your dead weight once again and led you towards the elevator. "Because I'm upset with the male species right now," you replied, your actions completely betraying your words as you draped an arm across Ben's shoulder and leaned your head on it, sighing melodramatically. "He wouldn't even let me call him Jamie." Ben could see the amusement even in Joe's horribly pixelated face, the WiFi connection understandably horrid out in the garage, but he chalked the amusement up to Joe thoroughly enjoying drunk you. His free hand went out to press the elevator button as a night security guard eyed you both warily from afar, Ben nodding curtly, and you pressed the button again for what you thought was good measure before closing your eyes, humming tiredly. Ben was warm, and the body heat radiating off of him was dangerously comfortable. "That sounds awful," Joe replied faux-sympathetically, though he seemed more like he was having the time of his life witnessing your dependency on Ben despite the fact that you were basically saying all men were trash. Ben's lips pressed into a thin line, silencing any nagging thoughts as he listened to you continue. "I know! And he made me drink beer all night, and kept talking about his ex, and then he made a fat joke!" You continued rambling about everything that had gone wrong that night, disparaging men in your drunken state while simultaneously leaning against Ben's side, your arm draped around his shoulder and fingertips occasionally brushing against his chest. The elevator rose to your floor steadily, a happy noise escaping the back of your throat when the doors finally opened, and you gripped Ben's shoulder tightly to steady yourself as he led you into the hallway, ignoring the sharp dig of your fingernails in his skin. Right now, he just wanted to get you back home before his arm fell off, his hand almost asleep from how hard he had to grip your waist to keep you steady.  When your door opened and Joe appeared, you couldn't contain your excitement, nor could Ben's grip contain you as you propelled forward into Joe's arms, wrapping him up in the tightest hug you'd ever given him. Laughing, he returned the hug as he slid his foot out to hold the door open for Ben, who made his way in with a mildly exhausted look on his face that Joe just barely witnessed. A knowing smile snuck its way onto his lips, and he shut the door as you let go of him, stumbling down the hallway after Ben and making your way to the kitchen.  "Joe, you're seriously the best," you practically moaned from the kitchen as you took the ibuprofen and chugged one of the glasses of water, Ben raising an eyebrow as he turned to look at Joe, who shrugged and grinned. "It's like I'm chopped liver or something," Ben remarked, just loud enough for Joe to hear but quiet enough for it to pass under your radar as you started on the second glass of water, drinking it down like a ravenous beast. Reaching into his pocket, Ben pulled out the sandwich and tossed it to Joe, who cheered in excitement and unwrapped it quickly, biting into the partially-cold chicken and not caring one bit. As he tossed his keys on the counter, Ben took a look around your place, realizing he'd never been there before. It was just a flipped carbon copy of Joe's, all the cozy dimensions the same. The two men made their way into the living room where you were fully out of earshot, and both settled into the couch as they listened to you rummaging around the kitchen. "Well, you kind of still smell like it," Joe offered, talking through his sandwich and not bothering to chew at all before he spoke. "I swear to God, if either of you makes another joke about me smelling bad, I'm going mental," Ben hissed, running his hands back through his hair and wincing at the sharpness of the freshly shaved hairs on the side that pricked at his fingertips. "I'm not your girlfriend's Uber, you know? Why would she text me to come pick her up?" Joe grinned and shrugged, very clearly enjoying how irritated Ben was becoming as he took another bite of the McChicken, vaguely gesturing with the hand it was in as he spoke again. "Not my girlfriend, but whatever. Two, ask her. I'm not your couples therapist, Mr. Fashion Week. I can't ask your girlfriend for you. God, the power of the pussy." "She's- you're one to talk!" Ben sputtered out, reaching over to give Joe's shoulder a mild-mannered smack. "Let yourself in to a bird's apartment and get her hangover cure - which you know by heart - ready, and throw her clothes in the laundry for her, and you want to talk to me about the power? Get out. Just stop dicking around already, mate, it's clear you two have a thing and you're just fucking with me at this point." "Ummmm, I believe I'm just a friendly neighbor. You're the one that risked losing a parking spot in the middle of the city just so you could go pick up a drunk girl  and carry her home."   Ben was gearing up to fire back that he'd never seen two neighbors so close, but at that moment he heard you walking out into the living room, and both of them turned to see you snuggled up in the bathrobe you'd retrieved from the dryer, your dress laying in a heap by the washing machine. "Mmmm, perfect," you hummed to yourself, your eyes just barely visible over the oversized bathrobe that disguised most of your figure. Padding over to the chair adjacent from them, you flopped down it in rather ungracefully and curled up against the armrest, staring at the both of them with a silly grin. "Whatcha talkin' about out here?" "Nothing," Joe calmly lied, taking another bite of his sandwich as he sat back, offering an unassuming smile. "You missed That 70's Show." "I should have stayed and skipped my date," you huffed quietly, pouting as your eyelids fluttered closed and you nuzzled the pillow you currently had tucked underneath you. You were getting sleepy, and Ben could tell that you weren't going to last much longer at this rate. "Jameson was a big, stupid bitch. Why do guys suck?" "Damn, Benny-boy over here drives to pick you up and I get your stuff ready for bed and all guys suck?" Joe questioned, raising an eyebrow and watching as you whined and furrowed your own eyebrows, peeking open your eyes. There it was, the tender look that managed to send Ben's mind into a frenzy once again - he wasn't sure now if it was because he knew crying might come with it, or if you just had that much of an affect on him.  "That's not what I meant, Joe, I'm sorry!" Your eyes were starting to look watery, and Ben sent Joe a panicked look that just prompted a heavy sigh from his friend. Taking the last bite of his sandwich, Joe rose to his feet and brushed the crumbs off of his shorts before ambling over to the chair. His hand wrapped around your wrist and he carefully pulled you to stand as you sniffled and whined quietly, tears  threatening to spill over - Ben observed stiffly as you fully wrapped your arms around Joe's torso, leaning into his grasp as he started to lead you to your bedroom. "Okay, crybaby, you've trashed males enough and made Ben lose his parking spot, I think it's bedtime, yeah?" Joe asked, wrapping an arm lazily around you and maneuvering you around the maze of your living room before glancing over his shoulder to nod at Ben. "I can take it from here. Night, dude. Have fun in Paris!" "Ben, I'm sorry I made you lose your parking spot! I'm such a bitch," you wailed as Joe made futile attempts to shush you, his hand only partially muffling your cries as he led you down the hallway just like a doting boyfriend caring for his drunk girlfriend. "Bye, guys." Raising his hand, Ben waved once, but neither of you saw it as you whined into Joe's hand, gripping onto his shirt tightly while Joe tried to distract you to no avail. Ben was already no longer in the picture, reduced to a background character while Joe took center stage once again. When you disappeared out of sight, Ben took a long, deep breath before rising to his feet as well, stretching and slowly making his way to where he'd sat his keys before exiting. The sound of you wailing from your bedroom accompanied his exit, and he could faintly hear you in the hallway as he pressed the elevator button, shuffling into the cramped space when the doors slid open with a dinging sound.  As the doors closed behind him, Ben turned and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes as exhaustion slowly set in. "Fucking hell," he muttered, his voice the only sound in his ears besides the creaking of the elevator shaft, an odd shift from having someone around him almost constantly all night. Though he hated to say it, he almost would have rather been trying to stop you from crying right now - he missed your voice, and Joe's too. The virtual silence was deafening, and a dull ringing sound started to assault his eardrums. The elevator doors slid open, and Ben reemerged to find that the same night security guard from before was watching him curiously, the window to his little shack slid open partially. "She get home okay? Seems like she was quite a handful," the guard remarked, the wrinkles around his face deepening as he punctuated his sentence with a little chuckle. Ben laughed once, nodding as he sifted through his key ring and strolled past the guard's stand, shaking his head. "She's alright. Just had a few too many and needed a babysitter for a little bit." The guard's eyes never left the blond as he passed, his arms folding in front of him as he watched Ben fiddle with his key ring, failing to find the remote to unlock his car. "Must have been hell getting her to settle in. She's lucky she's cute, huh?" That slowed Ben's pace down considerably, and not just because the night guard was out of pocket. He paused in picking his car key out of the key ring, looking up for a moment before nodding and heading to get in his car, his smile faltering just a bit - again, he was reminded that it was Joe up there with you right now, not him.  "Yeah. Very lucky." --- sorry i was such a mess last night, i'm 100% paying for it now! thanks for coming to get me even though i'm a straight up moron. and i didn't forget, i definitely owe you... joe says have fun in paris :) Ben reread the text one more time, unable to smile despite the cutesy emoticon at the end. Even though you'd taken the time to message him personally and thank him with an open-ended IOU, there was Joe's name, popping up at the end like an annoying little fly that just kept reappearing despite his best efforts to swat it away.  "It's not his fault," he mumbled, locking his phone as he went on to his 16th hour of ignoring your text. What would he say anyways? Hey, no sweat, I basically would drop everything to come pick you up from a shitty date. Actually, why don't I just take you on a shitty date and we can skip- "Blanket?" The flight attendant's voice jolted him out of his wallowing, and he gave the clean-cut man an embarrassed smile before nodding his head, accepting the packaged blanket gratefully. Dealing with his problems was going to be a lot easier when he could sleep them away for the next 7 hours, and then promptly drown them in fancy outfits, rich foods, and outlandish cocktails. "Thanks, mate. Definitely going to need it."

---

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[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

Dark Phoenix

We owe a lot to the X-Men. Lest we forget the halcyon days of Y2K, superhero movies weren’t always a guaranteed blockbuster hit or taking up real estate at the multiplex for 80% of weeks in a given year. But some terrible CGI, brooding Canadian sideburns, and a terrible line about a toad and its relationship to lightning later and Marvel comics properties are suddenly in the conversation as a sure bet at the box office. And now it’s 2019 and the X-Men have had some...let’s say ups and downs. With Dark Phoenix, we’re allegedly saying goodbye to this crop of actors playing these superheroes. So was this a bittersweet farewell or a “don’t let the door hit ya where the good lord split ya” type situation? Well...

Somewhere in the middle, like when you see your uncle who used to give you piggyback rides and pull quarters from behind your ear when you were a kid but now you only see him at Thanksgiving and you only ever talk to him about 1) the weather 2) whether you’re still at the same job (you are) or 3) how good Aunt Judy’s pie was this year and he gets up to leave and you’re like “Oh you’re leaving? Well it was good to see you, drive safe!” and you share an awkward side-hug. 

Do you need a synopsis? It’s an X-Men movie. Mutants are getting up to mutant-y shit. Charles Xavier (James McAvoy) is all like “we can help the humans and they’ll like us if we save them from space disasters!” and Erik Lehnsherr is all like “mutants are better than humans and we should conquer them but since I’ve tried that a couple times and got caught I’m just gonna build a little island mutant utopia” and honestly both of them are kind of side characters in their own franchise which is a bummer because I think we can all agree that the Charles/Erik dichotomy is the beating heart of why people connect with this mythology. The main plot is about Jean Grey (Sophie Turner) getting dosed with a bunch of space energy that she can’t really control and shit happens and people get hurt and she’s like I like hurting people but also she doesn’t. Jessica Chastain is wasted as a woman with very ghost-like features who’s trying to convince Jean to use her powers for EEEVILLLL. You probably heard that this movie was terrible. It’s not. But it’s not good either. It just...is. Frankly, I feel very zen about the whole thing.

Many thoughts:

During the first opening narration, Sleepy Gay leaned over and said, “I already hate this.” And uh, that mood was about right for the narration throughout. Unless you’re doing a true film noir, you have to have a DAMN good reason besides laziness to have voiceover do this much heavy lifting.

#onlyninetieskidsremember the 1992 space shuttle because we don’t care about funding NASA anymore!

I know the production of this film was fraught, and there were some massive reshoots, which obviously means a quick and messy editing session. But that slapdash feel permeates the movie into even the most mundane scenes - an early example is Hank (Nicholas Hoult) turning into Beast at the end of a conversation to reply, “Yeah.” Was...was that necessary? Is that how he ends all his conversations? 

And the emotional beats feel really weird. Like when Jean gets back on the ship from space, the vibe feels completely wrong for the scene we just witnessed.

I will say, it’s a thing of beauty to see just how 10000% done Jennifer Lawrence is while she languishes in this movie with nothing to do but die (listen they spoiled that shit in the trailers, don’t @ me). Her snappy line, “The women are the only ones who do anything around here, maybe you should change the name to the X-Women” is delivered with such exasperated can-you-believe-we’re-still-doing-this spice, it’s just *chef kiss* gorgeous. 

In spite of all the crying she does in this film, Sophie Turner’s eye makeup is FLAWLESS. I want to know what eyeliner she uses. 

I’m feeling very uncomfortable with the fact that when I was a kid, I agreed with Charles on his whole “it’s our duty to protect the humans and show them we’re good” manifesto but now........idk, maybe it’s because Nazis are like, a big thing again, but I’m kinda with Magneto here? Maybe it’s the existential nightmare that’s swallowing us all but uh I just can’t really hang with respectability politics any more? This is like that moment in The Little Mermaid when Ariel says, “I’m 16 years old! I’m not a child anymore!” and you know where you’re at in life by whether you say, “Yeah, tell him Ariel!” or “Back those fins the fuck up and go to your room, young lady!”

Scott (Tye Sheridan) is just the most boring character and he has NO chemistry with Jean whatsoever. 

Question - if you have sex in the X-Men house, does Charles know? I’ll bet he does. What a perv.

In spite of his terrible conversation enders, I will say Nicholas Hoult is looking damn fine these days. DAMN fine. However - I’m a fan of his work overall, I really am, but he must have been having an off week when he filmed his angry grief confrontation with James McAvoy (a frankly incredible actor who elevates every single thing he’s in so...let that sink in). Going from quiet to loUD VERY QUICKLY over and over again is not the same as portraying grief, my dude.

I don’t understand why you would get an actress as magnetic and arresting as Jessica Chastain and then make her act like the love child of a ghost-robot one night stand. Her only sparks of something interesting are when she’s doing the big energy transfer with Sophie Turner, because frankly, that read as very homoerotic to me so like...into it.

Wait but did they hurt that dog. There’s no resolution about the dog and that is VERY upsetting.

How are we this far in the franchise and no one has told anyone involved in production “So uh. The floating thing the mutants do when they enter or exit a room in a big scene. Are you guys like...married to that? Have you thought about maybe not having floating be such a big part of the final emotional confrontation between Jean and everyone she’s ever loved trying to destroy her?” Because if there’s one thing I know of that creates and amplifies dramatic tension, it’s floating.

Is Michael Fassbender the most handsome man alive in these movies? It’s possible. At one point he’s in a collar and that really felt like someone involved in that script punch up was giving the fans anything at that point to keep them engaged, but I’m not complaining about it. 

How many fights have these X-Men been in? Isn’t the first day of X-Men school devoted to “Don’t make significant eye contact during a fight!”

Did I Cry? I probably should have, but the most I got was a slight tearing up. 

Overall, this is a mess. It’s kind of a fun mess if you already like the characters, and there’s certainly some eye candy for those interested in all genders. If you like the other films, give this one a gander just for completionist reasons and try to remember the good old days when X-Men actually meant something.

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[noona-clock]

Facade

Ooooh can I please request a bad boy au with Jun from SVT?? I’m a sucker for these type of aus??

Ooooh, I love this request, anon! Yes, you may, and I love this AU too! (But also, don’t go after bad boys in real life. Only in fiction, please. Trust me!) 

Genre: School AU, Bad Boy AU

Pairing: Jun x You 

By Admin T 

Your head connected with your locker as you let out a frustrated groan. You and your friends had it all planned out for the group project. You all sat next to each other, eliminating any chance of that one student to look at you with an awkward smile to beg you to let them into your group. But your teacher had a random selection generator and your partner wasn’t who you wanted it to be.

“Well, think of it this way,” said one of your friends who lucked out and got paired with someone who would actually do work. “If only you do the work, you’ll get an A!” You shot your friend a glare who started slowly backing away.  

It was also at that moment that the bane of your existence appeared. He sauntered over to you while others avoided his general vicinity.

“We need to talk about the project,” he said, his voice low as he grabbed your sleeve and tugged you towards the closest empty classroom he could find.

“Whoa, hey, what…” you stammered, unable to do anything but follow him.

“So, here’s what we’re going to do,” he started. “You’ll let me do all the work and you can sit there playing with your phone, whatever it is that you do, and it’ll be as painless as possible.”

“Wait -- .”

“That’s it. We’re done.”

He turned around and left as you stared in awe, your mouth slightly open that he’d just bulldozed your project without a word from you. But then, that was Jun, the school’s resident bad boy that always showed up late to class or probably not at all, his grades barely passing but just enough for him to graduate. He walked around with a blank stare, ready to glare at you if you were in his way. No one dared talk to him because he wouldn’t say anything back or would leave while you were talking.

Your shoulders fell. Maybe it was better this way. One grade wasn’t going to affect your near-perfect grades, right?

“80?! She cannot do that!” you’d all but shouted after class as you stared at the updated syllabus. Other than attendance, the group project made up a majority of your grade. Your eyes quickly scanned for Jun’s tall frame and you could see him already walking out of the classroom. You quickly grabbed your backpack, pushing other students aside as you grabbed his arm.

“We are working on this together,” you insisted, your eyes determined and unwilling to let him slide.

His brows furrowed. “No, we’re not.” He shifted his arm so that you weren’t holding it anymore and kept walking.

“Yes, we are!” you retorted, running after him and standing in front of him so he couldn’t get past you.

“I’m going to put in the work and -- .”

“Look, I already made this easy for you.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“I don’t trust you either.”

“We’re going to fail because of you.”

“That’s a great vote of confidence,” he muttered, sarcasm dripping from his words.

“After school on Wednesdays, one hour.”

He looked at you thoughtfully and you wondered if you pushed a button. But then, he surprised you and said, “Fridays.”

You blinked. Not Friday. Friday was a sacred day. It was the end of the week!

“Take it or leave it.”

“Fine. Fridays.”

Late. He’s late. He’d left in such a rush when he agreed that you didn’t even bother getting his number so that you could contact him. Not that you needed his number. It just would’ve been helpful. Now, you wished you’d asked. 

You peered out in the hallway and sighed before you glanced at your watch once more. Five minutes and you were going to leave and do this project all to yourself. You thought you’d seen a glimmer of hope when he agreed but now you weren’t so sure. 

You reached for your backpack and it was then that you heard footsteps and soft murmurs and sniffling. Your brows furrowed in confusion as you turned around. 

There he was, Jun, in his usual bad boy self dressed in all black but he had a child in his arms, her small arms circled around his neck while he held her gently. The sniffling was coming from her and Jun smiled as he talked to her, his voice soft and his face gentle. You were in shock. 

“Now, apologize to Y/N,” he said as he took a step closer towards you. The child, no more than six years old peered at you shyly before hiding back into Jun’s embrace. He tsk’d, gently teasing her side. “C’mon.” 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled softly. 

“For what?” asked Jun gently. 

“For making my brother late because... I dropped my favorite teddy bear.” Her eyes welled up with tears and your heart broke. 

Jun sighed. “Look, sorry, I...” 

You shook your head, immediately shushing him. “Is teddy bear okay now?” you asked with a small smile. “I bet that teddy bear is glad you found him and took care of him.” 

She nodded and you Jun bit back a smile. 

“Just like your brother takes care of you, right?” 

She nodded once more, vigorously this time, her smile a little bit brighter. She poked Jun and stage whispered, “She’s nice. I like her.” 

Jun’s ears burned as he chuckled nervously. He gently placed her on the nearest desk and took out crayons and a coloring book. “We won’t take long, I promise.” 

Who was this person in front of you? Where did the Bad Boy Jun go that everyone knew so well and was so afraid of? 

“Look, we don’t have to...” you started. 

“I made you wait and now we’re here,” he said before he gestured towards a seat. “Might as well make the most of it.”  

Fridays became your favorite. It already was even before this project and before Jun came along but he surprised you at every turn. He was smart with different and new ideas for the project. But when his sister was there, he was gentle and caring, a side that you hadn’t seen before either. You grew to like him even if you hadn’t meant to. 

“Why do you always act so...” 

His eyebrow quirked as he looked up at you. He was scribbling something in his notebook after you’d both just finished work for the day. The project was almost done and you were sad to know that your Friday meet ups would be no more. 

“So... rude sometimes?” you continued. Jun didn’t intimidate you anymore. You quickly learned that it was all just a front and you couldn’t understand why. 

“Rude?” he repeated as he chuckled in amusement. 

“Y’know... everyone thinks you’re a bad boy but you’re really not.” 

He laughed wryly as he stared back down at his notebook. You could tell he was trying to choose his words carefully. 

“Everyone doesn’t need to know my business,” he replied softly. “They don’t need to know that I take my little sister to school and pick her up. They don’t need to know I barely have time to study when I have three other part-time jobs or that I’m raised by a single parent. Or, that I don’t have enough new clothes to wear so I always wear black because it’s easy to clean.” 

He looked at you and sighed. “That’s why.” 

“I didn’t mean to...” 

“I know,” he interrupted. “I don’t want... just don’t give me your pity.” 

You shook your head. “I assumed, I...” He looked down at your hand and bit his lip before looking up at you. 

“I wasn’t really nice to you either at first,” he said sincerely and apologetically. 

“Can we call it even, then?” 

He nodded, a hint of a smile returning. “We can.” He glanced back down at his notebook and grinned. “Alright, I think we’re all set. I’ll finish this and turn it in tomorrow.” 

“I can -- .” 

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N,” he laughed softly as he stuffed his notebook and books into his backpack. 

You watched him with new eyes and before you knew it, the words were out of your mouth, “I’m going to miss our Fridays.” 

He looked at you in surprise, pausing for just a moment before slinging his backpack on his shoulder. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you murmured, suddenly shy as you stood up to put your things away. 

“This is our last one, isn’t it?” 

You nodded. The project was due tomorrow. There was no need to meet up on Fridays anymore. 

He leaned against the desk and looked at you thoughtfully. “How about next Friday? Are you free?” 

You shrugged in reply, “Yeah.” You always kept your Fridays free now out of habit. 

“Me too,’ he replied with a smirk. 

“Oh?” you said, looking at him blankly. 

He shook his head in amusement at you. “It’s a date, then.” He smirked and stood up, walking away as you watched his form retreat. You laughed softly, your cheeks blushing as you thought of when he’d first told you that he was going to do all of the project and left exactly like he did now. 

Jun wasn’t a bad boy, he never was but he just had fun acting like it to tease you. You learned that on your first date, your second date, your third date and more. 

Master list //  RULES // Submit a Request! // Read About the Admins 

[helloprettybb]

drawing you in

The long Spencer x Reader is taking, well a long time. So here’s a semi-short one and I really hope the other one will be done by next week. Also, this is a high school AU because I haven’t done one in a while.

Warnings: like a curse word or two. I don’t remember how many.

Word count: 1.3k

Going into freshman year of high school, you expected to be the lowest at the totem pole. In fact, you weren’t even surprised when upperclassmen may or may not have purposely shoved you in the hallway. But what you didn’t prepare for was the sudden abandonment of your friends. Although not all of them left, the ones that stayed weren’t in any of your classes and didn’t share a lunch with you. The lack of close friends forced you to befriend some acquaintances from middle school. Luckily you knew at least one person in all of your classes, so for the first days, you clung to them to prevent yourself from acting even more awkward. 

It was fine until your Biology teacher opted for new seats. Much to your chagrin, you were moved from the only girl you knew in your class. Your teacher claimed the seating chart was generated randomly by the computer, but you mentally called bullshit because a group of boys, who you assumed were friends from the cringe-worthy handshakes and loud laughter, were grouped together in the back corner. As you watched seats being filled, you finally heard your name and sat in your assigned seat. Luckily it was in the back of the classroom because aside from the arbitrary seating chart, the teacher already got on your nerves. 

Opening a book to block everyone else out when a voice broke your concentration, “Hello. My name is Spencer Reid.” You close your book and meet eyes with a boy who looked too attractive to be a freshman. His well-groomed, brown hair and sharp clothes betrayed his youthful eyes, which screamed underclassman. 

“Hi, Spencer. I’m Y/n.” you introduce politely. Although you didn’t know everyone in your grade, you’ve never seen him before high school. You definitely would have remembered a face like that.

As if he read your mind, he informs, “I’m new. I just moved here this summer.” 

“Technically we’re all new,” you comment offhandedly, trying not to sound too bitter towards someone you just met.

“At least you have friends. I don’t even know who I’m sitting with at lunch today.” he shrugs, trying to act casual but you could see some anxiety by his fidgeting hands.

Maybe it was to spare him of another lonely lunch or the small, primal attraction you have for him, but you offered, “You can sit with me.”

“Aren’t you sitting with other people? I’m sure they wouldn’t want to sit with me.” he chuckles a little at his self-deprecating joke.

“I’ve just been sitting with people I barely know. Sitting with you wouldn’t make a difference.” you shrug, not knowing why you are trying to convince the cute boy to sit with you.

“Okay.” he gives in and smiles. He looks even prettier smiling. You didn’t know why you thought that way about someone you just met but didn’t know whether to mentally scold yourself or let it be. Luckily the teacher started lecturing which allowed you to distract yourself from him. The lesson was a review of the past years, so as you almost drifted off, you glanced over at Spencer’s paper. You watched as he sketched a rabbit. Before striking up a conversation, you checked to see if your teacher, who you inferred was a little hard-of-hearing because of the number of times it takes to get his attention.  

“That’s really good.” you compliment quietly to not draw attention from the teacher, who is still invested in the lesson. 

“Oh, it’s nothing.” he repudiates nonchalantly while shading in the ears. You continue to watch him draw until the bell rings. You and Spencer leave class together and start down the hallway to the lunch room. You keep a respectful distance in the crowded hallway into a stranger shoves you into him. Due to your heavy backpack, you almost topple to the ground, but Spencer catches you before you could fall, although he couldn’t prevent the embarrassment from showing on your face. 

He lets go of you and stepping away from him slightly, you apologize meekly, “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” he chuckles politely. Unable to recover, you walk in silence until you reach the cafeteria. You and Spencer find an empty table and set your belongings down. You catch a couple making out over his shoulder and instinctively cringe. Spencer sees the expression on your face and turns to see what’s behind him. 

“Did you know that one 10-second French kiss transferred 80 million germs from one partner to the other?” he asks, even though you obviously wouldn’t know that.

“It’s not even the germs that disgust me.” you scoff, thinking Spencer wouldn’t care about your rant over gross PDA. 

“No?” he asks, raising his eyebrow as if challenging you to elaborate.

“I’m fine with couples, even though most don’t even last in high school. But it’s just repulsive to me that people have the nerve to exhibit this intimate past time in front of hundreds of people. I came here for school, not to watch a bunch of horny teenagers suck on each other's lips.” you realized it became a rant and expected it to be offputting for Spencer, but instead he chuckled lightly which caused you to laugh comfortably. “And don’t even get me started on couples holding hands in the hallway. They form a slow-moving line in the hallway that prevents people from getting past. If they’re going to hold hands, at least walk briskly!”

“I agree, although you explained it more vividly.” he smiles which causes you to mirror him. “Personally, I don’t like all the germs that come along with public displays of affection. There are already so many germs in the atmosphere in a public space and sharing saliva with a person makes it even worse.” he shares a little more scientifically.

You sigh and admit, “Maybe I’m just bitter because I’ve never had anyone to do that with.”

Over the course of a couple weeks, you and Spencer grew closer by sitting with each other at lunch every day and working together in biology. You realized from the beginning the extent of Spencer’s modesty when he spouted out answers quickly all while claiming it wasn’t a big deal. Much to your dismay, you still had lingering feelings for Spencer. Although you felt like your feelings were reciprocated since he started this sweet flirting thing between the two of you.

You and Spencer find your now usual table and sit next to him. He pulls out his notebook, which you gave him when scrap paper wasn’t enough. “Did you draw anything new?” you question curiously, unable to see his notebook. What started as a polite inquiry has now transformed into an investment in his endless sketches.

“Only the most beautiful person in the world,” he replies absentmindedly. You glanced over at his paper and see a face that resembles yours too much.

“Is that supposed to be me?” you ask assuming it was part of your little game and instead of a response, Spencer just smirks as he continues to fill in your hair. You feel a slight blush forming so you joke, “It can’t be. She’s too perfect.”

“Well, I guess that means you’re perfect in my eyes.” he flirts, giving you a cocky grin.

You loved the endless flirting, but it bugged you a little that this was all for fun. Knowing what it could do to your blossoming friendship, you decided to be upfront. “Do you actually think that about me?”

Spencer softens and confesses honestly, “Of course. I’ve thought that way since the first day we met.” 

You smile the jest, “You know, if we weren’t against public displays of affection, I’d probably kiss you right now.”

He tilts his head innocently then states, “I think we can make an exception.” You laugh and give him a quick, sweet kiss on the lips. Spencer turns to his notebook and draws a heart around your portrait as you rest your head on his shoulder.

[carry-on-my-wayward-imagines]

Hope

Anonymous said: So I saw this quote today and I was wondering if you could do a Dean/reader oneshot based off it? “You don’t know you’ve fallen for someone until after it happens.”

Anonymous said: Hi! First off, I’m addicted to your writing, it’s so good! I was wondering if you could do one where the reader confesses her love to Dean and he doesn’t feel the same way, but after a few weeks/months he starts to fall for her? Whether or not the reader takes him at the end is up to you :) Thank you so much! <3

@-sidetracked- said: Can we make this like, a dean story please where like dean is in love with the reader and he isn’t supposed to be so he tried to forget like all the memories and stuff but she still comes around for Sam and cas and Charlie so he can’t and it’s really hard for him

A/N: It’s been so long...so long, but finally it’s here. Hope y’all like it. 

Word count: 2,352

Pairing: Dean x reader.

Warnings: a bit of drinking.

“Let Go” series: Part I, II, III, IV, V

Theme song: Someone New - Hozier

“Let Go” Series Spotify Playlist

Your name: submit What is this?

--------

You paced nervously, looking down at your outfit. It was a simple black dress with long sleeves, a washed-out denim jacket, and a pair of comfortable tennis shoes. After all, you weren’t doing anything fancy, just a walk around the park and dinner at a nearby place after that. And even though you knew the sports bar wouldn’t be high class, you couldn’t help but feel underdressed. Or maybe overdressed? It was too complicated.

It had taken you so long to get this date, you couldn’t ruin it. You smiled to yourself reassuringly, grabbing your small bag and glancing at your outfit once again before walking out of your room.

Dean could always tell who was walking into the room by their footsteps. Sam was quiet despite his size, Cas awkward at times, but you were confident. He heard you before he saw you, noting the spring in your step as you walked into the Bunker’s library. He glanced up from his book, breath instantly taken away. You looked gorgeous.

“What do you think?” you asked, glancing at him and then at Sam, who also looked up at you. “It’s my first time dressing up in a while.”

“You look great, as always,” Dean smiled, grabbing the keys that had been tossed on the table and standing up. “Ready go?”

“Absolutely,” you replied, fighting your heart as it jumped happily with Dean’s compliment.

“Have fun,” Sam called out as you walked away with his brother. He was happy for you.

You watched your shadow along the walls and floors of the Bunker silently, comfortably walking with a humming Dean toward the Impala. He opened up the door for you, as always, before settling in on the driver’s seat and bringing his baby to life.

“Thanks for driving me tonight,” you mentioned as you buckled your seatbelt. “Soo-jin and I were aching to get a spa day. She doesn’t know what I do, but it wasn’t hard for her to see that I could use it.”

“No problem, Y/N. I promise I’ll fix up your car soon enough, too.”

You suddenly remembered the last time Dean fixed your car, wearing jeans and black t-shirt that hugged his arms in all the right places, and the grease stains that somehow got everywhere. It was a good memory, but not something you needed at the moment.

You watched the bright sky illuminating the empty fields and occasional houses on the countryside, feeling the Impala rumble under you. Spring was slowly turning into summer, and the once-green grass of Kansas began to slumber off, giving up to a yellow color under the intense heat all around you. You thanked Mother Nature for her grace today, keep it a cool 80 degrees. Maybe it wasn’t a true coolness, but it would be as good as it got at 5 P.M. for a long time.

More houses began to appear after a while, and you trusted Dean’s current mixtape to keep your nerves down. But the scent of his cologne and shampoo didn’t do any good. You stole glances at him every now and then, but he remained focused on the road. Of course, he noticed your head turning, but kept it to himself for later. Despite your nonchalant acting around him, he had hope.

Those thoughts soon evaporated as he listened to you give him directions around town, streets winding up confusingly as you arrived to a nearby town. You saw the name of the sports bar pop up on your map, close by the salon. You got there rather quickly, considering the traffic on the streets, and with nerves pooling in your stomach as Dean parked in front of the salon. The guilt began sinking into you.

It shouldn’t have mattered, of course, that you were going on a date. It had been months since Dean’s accident, and although you were not a bit over him, you still knew that he would be awkward about the subject of you dating. As any brother would, you thought. He’d always been weird when you mentioned any guys, it was something that he and Sam didn’t want details of, and quite honestly, you never really had many details to share. How could anyone give you better memories than Dean, even if he was nothing more than a friend?

But Neal seemed nice, at least you got that from the phone call and texts you’d shared. You still couldn’t remember the night at the bar at all, just seeing him and giggling together with Soo-jin, but everything else was faded, like looking through the end of a glass bottle. Drinks and laughter mixed together, small touches and the smell of alcohol close to your nostrils. And Dean. There was always Dean, even if you ended up not hanging out with him that much.

It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did. Because Dean had been your best friend before, and now, as he looked at you with a smile, you could feel your heart tear a bit. You couldn’t lie to him, he’d be able to tell. All of those midnight conversations, your rides shared on the Impala, and pies cooked at the break of dawn had brought you closer to him than anyone else, even if your interactions were limited now. He could read you better than anyone.

“Thanks for the ride,” you forced yourself to say, looking down as you fixed your outfit, hoping he wouldn’t notice your stress. You had to convince him that you were simply going into the salon. “I’m having dinner with Soo-jin so I’ll just take a cab after, that sound okay?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” he said. Your heart fluttered. “Call me if you need me to pick you up, though. I’m here for anything.”

You found yourself wishing that was true in different ways. With a last smile and a quick goodbye, you got out of the car, waving at him and reassuring him you carried something silver and some holy water.

A deep breath later, you found yourself walking past the salon, locating the park just a street away. It was small, but nice. There was a fountain at the center, happy streams of water jumping and dancing around in it. The trees swayed with a cool breeze, but even then you began to question your outfit under the sun. You sat on the concrete of the fountain, looking at your phone and re-reading the text messages to make sure you were in the right place.

“Y/N,” you suddenly heard your name being called out.

He was just as your tipsy memory remembered; tanned flawless skin, charming smile, and toned arms. He was dressed more casually now, but even the khaki shorts and Columbia University shirt looked impressive. He held a black leash in his hand, which travelled all the way down to a cheerful labrador.

“Neal,” you smiled, standing up. His dog, Creek, circled around you, tail playfully wagging as you rubbed the top of his head. “I didn’t imagine your puppy would be so freaking adorable.”

“He’s definitely not a puppy,” Neal laughed.

“All dogs are puppies,” you challenged, teasingly glaring at him. Dean might’ve said the same thing. Kneeling down, you let Creek give you a couple kisses while you kept on petting him. “Aren’t you, cutie pie? Little pumpkin of adorableness?”

“I knew he’d be a good wingman,” Neal joked, offering his hand to help you up. “Trust me, he gets spoiled at home. If we don’t walk him then he’ll be troublesome later.”

You reluctantly stood up, accepting his hand. It was less calloused than your own, but firm. However, it also felt nothing like Dean’s, and his touch didn’t make you feel the same sparks as Dean’s. Trying to push that to the back of your head, you followed his pace with Creek, making small conversation as you went.

He was a lawyer, but went around the state taking cases, so he wasn’t home much. Creek was two years old, and as his name hinted, he had been found in a creek in one of the cities Neal travelled to once. His favorite toys were the squeaky kind, and he was trained to do many things, including playing dead. You found yourself asking a lot of questions about Creek.

“I had a dog growing up,” you explained as an apology, “but after that I just...sort of wound up moving a lot and never had the chance the get another pupper.”

“I get it. It was hard at first to get him used to moving around with me, but now he does a lot better,” Neal said, scratching Creek’s back as he walked. “So, Y/N, what do you do that makes you travel, too?”

“Umm,” you muttered, panicking. You hadn’t thought about this, of course he would ask. “I work in nursing, just traveling when I feel like I’m needed. It’s not more than a couple weeks at a time though.”

You weren’t completely lying, you tried to reason. You did act as a nurse for Sam and Dean; you just didn’t have to mention that it was after hunting down ghost or vampires or whatever else you found. But Neal bought it, nodding and mentioning he had thought about that while he was in school.

After a couple laps around the park, you hinted at dinner, knowing your dress wouldn’t be dry for much longer under the unavoidable rays of the sun. Thankfully the bar provided some water for Creek, and you got a seat by the window so you could keep an eye on him as you ate. The wings and lemonade kept you happy, intently listening to Neal as he spoke about his most recent case. And soon enough, the lemonade turned into a fruity drink or two, maybe a couple shots when you challenged him to it.

It was still before 8 when you left the bar, needing to take Creek home, and you heading in the same direction. You carried a water bottle with you as you walked outside with Neal. He lived a couple streets away, and you offered to walk along with him as you sobered up.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you home?” Neal asked for the third time as you approached his house. It was a one-story, with a spacious front yard (and you guessed back yard, too).

“You’re a lawyer, smart guy,” you laughed, following him to the front porch. “Even if we’re only a little tipsy, I live 40 minutes away and I’d rather not risk it.”

He threw his hands up, taking a set of keys out of his pocket and opening the door. Creek immediately rushed in, pacing around and then settling on his bed. You smiled at Neal as he walked in after you, closing the door behind him. He poured you another glass of water while you borrowed his phone and got an Uber, his smile never losing its charm.

When you stepped outside again, a driver waiting for you in the front, you couldn’t help but pet Creek one more time before hesitantly saying goodnight to Neal.

“Hey,” he said, grabbing your wrist before you left. Still no sparks. “I really enjoyed tonight.”

“I did, too,” you replied. At least that wasn’t a lie.

“I’m gonna be out of town for a while next Monday, but we could do lunch or something before I leave,” he suggested. You nodded along, and before you could really take in what was happening, Neal was leaning down.

I’m sorry, Dean, was the last thought on your mind as your closed your eyes and stood on your toes to meet him.

----

“Well, at least now I know that you’re alive,” Dean’s angry voice reached your ears.

You locked the Bunker’s door behind you, ignoring the look you knew he was giving you from the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m sorry, I forgot to charge my phone beforehand,” you replied, sighing.

You got a good look at Dean when you came down. He had his arms crossed, a look of concern and annoyance etched into the crinkles of his face. Your heart still warmed at the brightness of his green eyes, but shame and guilt mixed in with the warmth.

“You couldn’t have borrowed someone else’s phone?”

“I didn’t think about it,” you muttered. You really hadn’t, at least not to call. “Dean, can you just stop this interrogation? I wanna go change and shower.”

Dean tried to hold back, but he couldn’t. For some reason, he had been nervous as he dropped you off. He could tell that you weren’t being completely truthful with him. He was aching to tell you how he felt about you, but knowing that you were keeping something from him made him mad. Especially when he had called and texted to make sure you were okay, but you never replied.

“Oh yeah, get that smell of alcohol off of you,” he said.

“What’s with you?” you narrowed your eyes. Your heart began to drum faster as you confronted Dean. “I’m not a teenager, you can’t tell me that I can’t drink alcohol on a night out.”

“I was worried about you, Y/N. I even doubt you were with Soo-jin,” he confessed. You tried to keep yourself calm, to not let him see more of your lies.

“Well you shouldn’t be,” you shrugged. “And you’re not my dad or my boyfriend, so why do you care?”

You knew why he cared, it was a stupid question to ask, but you didn’t him a chance to saying anything else as you marched past him. You knew he heard the shake in your voice as you said “boyfriend.” Of course, even a date and a kiss later, you were not one bit over him. Not one bit.

And as Dean watched you walk away, he realized the same thing. You were still not over him, as much as you pretended. He still had a chance.

Of course, he knew nothing of the texts you sent later that night.

tagged: 

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[wurwurz]

I was tagged by @adaline-hiero, thank you sweetie.

1. Who was the last person you held hands with? My mother.

2. Are you outgoing or shy? I used to be very shy at school and university era, even as a young adult. I wouldn't say I'm outgoing now. But not shy anymore. Right in the middle.

3. Who are you looking forward to seeing? My mother and my brother because they are all the family I have left. My dog because he's my baby.

4. Are you easy to get along with? Yes

5. If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you? I've never ever been drunk in my life. No interest.

6. What kind of people are you attracted to? The ones who could not be attracted to me. The Hiddleston and Cumberbatch kind (funny, smart, artist, educated, gentleman, caring, giving, handsome but doesn't act like he God knows it, heartful, sensitive...)

7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now? Nah.

8. Who from the opposite gender is on your mind? My dash shows me a lot of Brie Larson content these days (due to Marvel) and I envy her silhouette, mainly her boobs.

9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable? Online ? Nah. Face to face, depends.

10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with? My dog. "How not to pee in the kitchen when mom is in the bedroom".

11. What does the most recent text that you sent say? “Damned Quasimodo !” to my brother (Notre Dame de Paris burning).

12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now? I don't listen to the radio, so I barely listen to "new" songs.

13. Do you like it when people play with your hair? Kids, no. Lover, yes.

14. Do you believe in luck and miracles? As much as I believe in Nessy.

15. What good thing happened this summer? I went to the Provence.

16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? No.

17. Do you think there is life on other planets? That's not even a question. Just logic. Yes there is life on other planets and I hope it is nothing like humans.

18. Do you still talk to your first crush? No.

19. Do you like bubble baths? I prefer showers.

20. Do you like your neighbors? Two look like serial killers, one is 110 years old, one obviously doesn't know what a shower is for, two other kill my nose sensitivity everytime they open their door, one loves to play music until 4 in the morning. Noooope.

21. What are you bad habits? I try to do 10 things at once. Worse is that I do succeed.

22. Where would you like to travel? London.

23. Do you have trust issues? If I understand the question right, ooooh yes.

24. Favorite part of your daily routine? Going back home in the evening.

25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with? My thumbs because I've got brachydactyly.

26. What do you do when you wake up? I rub my eyes and I complain about me not sleeping enough.

27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker? My skin is as white as Olaf and I love it. It never gets tanned, it's fascinating. I turn red and then all white again.

28. Who are you most comfortable around? My mum.

29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up? No.

30. Do you ever want to get married? Not really.

31. If your hair long enough for a pony tail? Yes.

32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with? Tom and Benedict and meeeee.

33. Spell your name with your chin. I have no dea what that one means.

34. Do you play sports? What sports? Yes, shopping and I've very good at it.

35. Would you rather live without TV or music? Depends. Sometimes I listen to music for hours everyday and sometimes I don't listen to a single tune. Same for TV.

36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them? Yes.

37. What do you say during awkward silences? I laugh.

38. Describe your dream girl/guy? The answer will sound so teenish. The two actors I feel for.

39. What are your favorite stores to shop in? Decoration stores.

40. What do you want to do after high school? I am 43, honey.

41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance? Some yes, others neva eva.

42. If your being extremely quiet what does it mean? I've just woken up.

43. Do you smile at strangers? If they walk their dog, yes. Though I first smile at the dog.

44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean? Asgard.

45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning? An invisible force stronger than me.

46. What are you paranoid about? Losing the 2 only members of my family.

47. Have you ever been high? No and not willing to be.

48. Have you ever been drunk? No, police officer.

49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about? I was made for acting bad. ^^

50. What was the colour of the last hoodie you wore? I don't wear hoodies.

51. Ever wished you were someone else? Yes. Currently wishing I was Bobby Hiddleston. But I wouldn't enjoy being that furry for long.

52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself? More confident.

53. Favourite makeup brand? Revolution Beauty for cheap brand. Make Up For Ever.

54. Favourite store? Make up ? Sephora

55. Favourite blog? Some I love equaly, so no name.

56. Favourite colour? Green.

57. Favourite food? Pizza.

58. Last thing you ate? Foret noire (Bonte Divina).

59. First thing you ate this morning? Nesquik + Princes Lu.

60. Ever won a competition? Yes, if work competition are included. My boss didn't know if he should keep me or the other girl (I knew he preferd the other girl because of her short skirts), so he gave us tests. I won. Hehehe.

61. Been suspended/expelled? No comprendo.

62. Been arrested? For what? No.

63. Ever been in love? Yes.

64. Tell us the story of your first kiss? No, I won't.

65. Are you hungry right now? A bit. But on a diet for one day so I'm not gonna ruin it already !

66. Do you like your tumblr friends more than your real friends? I hate them all !!! lol

67. Facebook or Twitter? Sick of Facebook. Too unpretty for my standards and too full of boring stuff. Twitter.

68. Twitter or Tumblr? Tumblr !

69. Are you watching tv right now? Yes.

70. Names of your bestfriends? Tic and Tac.

71. Craving something? What? Another one I don't get. What is to crave ?

72. What colour are your towels? Taupe (light brown).

72. How many pillows do you sleep with? One ergonomic.

73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals? No but I wished that my real living animal would like to sleep with me, but he doesn't. Chihuahuas...

74. How many stuffed animals do you think you have? Me, none. My dog has over 20.

75. Favourite animal? Except dogs, gorillas.

76. What colour is your underwear? White.

77. Chocolate or Vanilla? Chocolate.

78. Favourite ice cream flavour? Pistachio / Mint.

79. What colour shirt are you wearing? Depends.

80. What colour pants? Depends.

81. Favourite tv show? Sherlock.

82. Favourite movie? Bram Stoker's Dracula.

83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2? Since I don't know what it is, I guess... none !

84. Mean Girls or 21 Jump Street? I used to watch 21 Jump Street when I was a teenie with Depp that I already didn't like... Overrated actor.

85. Favourite character from Mean Girls? Stop asking.

86. Favourite character from Finding Nemo? The mean shark. Kidding. Dory.

87. First person you talked to today? My dog asking him if he had slept well. He never answered.

88. Last person you talked to today? My dog wishing him a good night. He never replied.

89. Name a person you hate? My grandmother. Wishing her the worst on earth (loooooong story).

90. Name a person you love? My mother + my own Myscroft.

91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now? My grandmother now that you brought that back.

92. In a fight with someone? No.

93. How many sweatpants do you have? None. That's a fashion no for anybody.

94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have? No hoodie. Sweaters a bunch.

95. Last movie you watched? Crappy movies on Netflix and I have no idea how they were called...

96. Favourite actress? Sigourney Weaver.

97. Favourite actor? Benedict Cumberbatch because he blew me away too many times. Tom Hiddleston is a great contender.

98. Do you tan a lot? Not at all. But I do get red.

99. Have any pets? One chihuahua, Cookie, 9 years old. Had another chihuahua named Bobby who passed away last year. He was 11.

100. How are you feeling? Ok? I'm at home watching Notre Dame burning. I'm sad.

101. Do you type fast? Kind of.

102. Do you regret anything from your past? Sadly yes.

103. Can you spell well? Yes.

104. Do you miss anyone from your past? My father. He passed away in 2015.

105. Ever been to a bonfire party? No idea what it is.

106. Ever broken someone’s heart? Happened.

107. Have you ever been on a horse? My friend told me it was a horse and confessed it was just a big poney afterwards.

108. What should you be doing? Giffing !

109. Is something irritating you right now? I'm biting a nail and I've just ruined it.

110. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt? Yes.

111. Do you have trust issues? You've already asked that one, parrot.

112. Who was the last person you cried in front of? My mother.

113. What was your childhood nickname? "Nini la sauce".

114. Have you ever been out of your province/state? I went to Germany to meet an actor I don't care about now. I met online buddies, visited Germany. Was great.

115. Do you play the Wii? PLAYSTATION !!!

116. Are you listening to music right now? Nope.

117. Do you like chicken noodle soup? No.

118. Do you like Chinese food? No.

119. Favourite book? The vampire Lestat, Anne Rice.

120. Are you afraid of the dark? No. Love it.

121. Are you mean? Hehehe, yesssss.

122. Is cheating ever okay? No. Never.

123. Can you keep white shoes clean? No, not with a doggie.

124. Do you believe in love at first sight? Yes.

125. Do you believe in true love? Yes.

126. Are you currently bored? A bit, that thing is too long.

127. What makes you happy? When my bank doesn't call to complain about my empty account.

128. Would you change your name? Noooo. Marilyn is a beautiful name. Merci, maman.

129. What your zodiac sign? Aquarius.

130. Do you like subway? Never used subway.

131. Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? God that silly thing happened. That was embarrassing. He was just a friend, not someone I ever felt for. That has ruined our friendship, he was kind of married.

132. Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? Not kidding, you have already asked the same question, right ?

133. Favourite lyrics right now? “shoo-be-doo-be-doo" by Madonna. Yeah, that's deep.

134. Can you count to one million? Happy to know I have always had better things to do.

135. Dumbest lie you ever told? "I hadn't noticed that Cookie had vomited right there, mom, promise". For the record, she cleaned. *g*

136. Do you sleep with your doors open or closed? Closed door ! I live in the french Bronx !

137. How tall are you? 162 cm. Something like... 28 cm shorter than Tom Hiddleston.

138. Curly or Straight hair? Wavy.

139. Brunette or Blonde? Brunette with one or two white hair already.

140. Summer or Winter? Summer. I hate, like really really hate winter.

141. Night or Day? Night.

142. Favourite month? July.

143. Are you a vegetarian? I'm weirdian. I don't like meat, I don't like vegetables. I am a pain in the ass when you ask me to come diner.

144. Dark, milk or white chocolate? Milk chocolate.

145. Tea or Coffee? Coffee. Benedict can keep all the tea.

146. Was today a good day? Until my country lost one of its most iconic monument, yes.

147. Mars or Snickers? Mars.

148. What’s your favourite quote? “If it bleeds, we can kill it”. ^^

149. Do you believe in ghosts? No but Zach Bagans would make me say yes.

150. Do you tag anyone else to do this? I always fear I bore my mutuals with these, so nope.

[sole-cuore-amore-e-droga]

Tel Aviv 2019: Straight outta Estonia to Eurovision with a lowkey tribute to Avicii soundwise I guess

I’m not one of those people to go all their way out to overdefend Eesti Laul as “THE most diverse NF to ever exist songwise”, but even I was disappointed in this sudden rush of radiofriendly pop music that I would rather refuse to describe if I had to endure any of them ever again all at once this year. Remember - Netta won with being CRAZY! Why can’t Estonia be CRAZY even more! Was this secretly a bigger demand from the new producers or so that Estonia would need to out-radiofriendly the Latvians whose goal actually was to find a good radiofriendly song that’s enough for qualification????

Also, I kind of wanted to watch Eesti Laul, but I haven’t really settled with it, as I didn’t have enough patience to watch it one time it wasn’t on Saturday (!!). Even with Eesti Laul usually taking the live tweets from foreign fans into account and displaying some of them on the national Estonian television for good measure. And often showcasing their weirdness through crude animations every so often. But I already saw my Twitter timeline being full of that stuff, and for that I’m happy.

I did have some favourites despite being tired of all this pop stuff, and one of them was the ever-so-gender-ambiguous INGER (I say so cuz I thought it was a guy, turns out it’s a she, yeah), and I kind of wanted to see her win after the lowkey last minute interest towards her? But the televote didn’t seem to want any of it during the final public say, and didn’t even want Kerli (not the Spirit Animal Kerli) through despite of her being “hot” (are we now choosing ESC NF winners based on their looks??? tighten up ffs). Instead the final’s televote thought it’d be a good idea to fuck up the international jury’s expectations by putting through an act that got 2(!!!!!) finalised points from them jurors overall and making it win the superfinal. That televote 12 the act got beforehand was just enough for the guy to last-minute qualify over another act of 14 overall points, and who knows, maybe if it wasn’t for that 12, the winner would’ve been someone else. But it didn’t and we have a last minute qualifier victory because televote superfinal is a thing.

And in the literal sense of the way Estonian minds thought their victor that was unfairly treated by the juries was a Swedish singer Victor Crone and his song “Storm”, which was written by the one and only Stig Rastafarian~ err I mean Rästa. Stig is one mythical human creature that never rests a minute without really wanting to appear in the Estonian delegation somewhere every year - whether as all by himself, with someone else, as a songwriter for someone else, or even as part of a band (remember Traffic, anyone? Now that I think of it, the whole band looks like a puppet-act just for Stig to get to Eurovision and the other band members didn’t even want any of it in the first place). Just exactly what is Stig’s aim here? To "take it back to Tallinn”? To meet new people in Europe because he’s too lazy to travel otherwise? To boast about the many Estonian entries he contributed to? Beats me.

That and Victor Crone being Swedish, therefore a man more suited to Melodifestivalen (where he actually once participated in) and only on Eesti Laul because Stig really wanted to save his voice for this one and tag some randomer along with him just for the sake of yearly input to Eesti Laul. Well, at least Victor is historically joining Sahlene and Sandra Oxenryd as “a Swede represending Estonia for a year because what do we know for the Estonians that weren’t chosen instead”. Let’s check his song out.

First and foremost, as the title obviously states, the song reminds me of the late Avicii’s music style, especially around 2012-2013, when he was just starting to get bigger post-”Levels”-release. Just with a bit more singing surrounding the song because... well, maybe to fill up the song some more in order to not look awkward on stage during an instrumental part of the drop being as long as would be one you hear on the radio.

Then he has this easy-listening generic male radio voice that the audiences can not necessarily reasonate with, but it’s memorable, together with the chorus, whose purpose is to be memorable - you don’t need no message that’s special, you just need a melody to hum in your head for the next few weeks, and that’s basically what Stig was able to achieve with this little ditty. Then there’s the amazingly easy song structure: verse - chorus - verse - (extended) chorus - bridge - chorus (+ song ending). That’s a structure that works on basic songs to make them more user-consumption-friendly and not too overbearingly dragged out. And I enjoy it, just like I did “Light Me Up” last year, which was also sung by a mediocre-live-vocalist-Swede that could have easily ended up 6th in Melodifestivalen edition with such song, sadly. I do acknowledge that it’s basic, but I enjoy it.

The problem the Eurofandom finds with this song is that it’s too basic of a song from Eesti, Victor’s proven himself to be a dull live singer, and the chorus rhymes “like this” with “like this”, and all the self-rhymes are automatically shite. And it’s fine if a song I like has its flaws, but it automatically worries me that its live potential is automatically down the drain because of the singer’s lack of vocal compassion or strenght. That begs the question, why choosing THAT kind of song if it’s totally going to underperform live in Eurovision if the singer wasn’t sick in the NF at the time???

...oh I get it now, you Estonians must have thought Stig deserves another year in the Estonian greenroom. Or you found Victor hot. Or you find it great that a song about a storm actually was originally staged to look like Victor’s in a storm. At least for the televiewers’ eye. Because all that they see in the real arenas is the singers’ backs if they don’t turn around in time.

With visuals like these, why even need a music video! (except that there already is one, look at the beginning of the review)

All in all, all condiments are there: just the sugar, spice and everything nice there’s needed for a song like this to break a fandom like this. You can practically smell the Hesburger grease from this song. I don’t care if that’s a bad thing - if you like the song, that’s fine, just shut up and enjoy... but if you dislike it, welp, there’s no way I can change your mind then.

And a random backing singer. Not that she’s helpful as the one for Ott Lepland or anything, she just strikes like thunder and leaves no lasting impact whatsoever.

Greta Salóme’s imaginary cousin, is that you????

Now excuse me while I contradict and repeat myself some more in the next few paragraphs:

Approval factor: As you might have seen me shading Elina a lot last year, I can safely say that at last I’m spared from her vocal practice entrapped in a porcelain-and-silk dressing!!! I like “Storm” myself so I’ll sheepishly approve the hell out of it, lolol. :-)

Follow-up factor: I would be lying if I didn’t say that after a risky-ish way to get all out opera and then coming back to a safe song after doing well with that opera number weren’t a complete nosedive into an empty pool. Subjectively it flows way better for me, but objectively, and the same could be, once again, said for Eesti Lawl [sic] 2019, it is rather interesting of a letdown? But hey, maybe it was finally time for the Estonians to chillax a bit and cave in to send an Estonian-Swedish pop number after the opera stuff, after the 80s synthpop stuff, after the smooth and slightly orchestrated and a little bluesy number, and heart-grabbing ballads... just so they could keep up their ‘variety’ in case Hungary runs out of ideas and starts sending cop-outs of themselves. They already did it with rehashing one artist and one lyrical idea already this year (the catch is that the father’s alive!), honestly. And oddly enough, they have yet to send something a little more modern/electro-influenced that appeals to the common crowd... (”Running” may not count because not everyone can relate, whereas there are more cases of broken-off love (as if in the other half being a heartbreaker or the first half missing the other half so much that they feel “incomplete” than abusive fathers. Just what I think there is? If I’m wrong I obviously expect to be @’ed in the replies section lol) For this conclusion though I’ll say that my opinion says it’s a ‘’’decent’’’ follow up, but for Eurofans, it’s not very much so of such, idk.

Qualification factor: you may think it’s dead while going to perform in between the more badass entries AND mediocre live vocals, but it won’t at least be the worst Stig entry to ever place - around 14th in the semi at the very worst and maybe in the lower half of top 10 at very best imo. Nothing more, nothing less.

NATIONAL FINAL BONUS

I actually barely even bother with Eesti Laul since they don’t accept my Twitter comments live on their television anyways. Say, were there any Twitter comments live on their television this year? No one on Twitter boasted about it if they saw theirs from what I’ve seen, but what I’ve definitely found from the eager Eesti Laul watchers were some casual and usual Estonian oddities thrown on the broadcast, such as:

• The soft and warm but also random and deranged yearly transitional postcard animations (that were refered to as “crude” earlier in this review), which I commonly know now as “my last two braincells”. Even if the graphical theme itself of this year’s Ee-Lawl were oddly-shaped birds coming out in forms of letters, they didn’t really show up much in the broadcast I suppose, and the best fuckery with my mind this year definitely happened when I saw some of THOSE pop up on my Twitter timeline:

We now return to your regularly scheduled news programm~ wait why are you saying that the scheduled programme should be Eesti Laul

• Even if the most acts themselves weren’t that kooky musically, they were obviously interesting performance-wise. We were greeted with an impulsively quirky crazy cat lady Kaia Tamm who bemoaned the absence of the fluffy creatures in German somehow (you know Germany’s a terrible track-record keeper when the only song in German this year featured on Estonia and the only German in Eurovision this year was gonna be sung by an Ukrainian entrant if she was alowed to), as if a song in full Italian from last year wasn’t enough. Not only did she dress up as Alice in Wonderland with kitty ears, but her costumed dancers were entertaining, the violinist was FIRE and a cute large teddy bear looked cute on stage. Not to mention, someone have rightfully noticed that some costumed felines in the audience looked like as if they were to kill someone:

• Lumevärv too is an interesting thing. Never forgetting Lumevärv. This Inga woman, the fiery orangehead she was, used her 3 minutes on stage the best possible way with dancing with her back turned on at the audience and only looking at the camera, while millions of lights (which is sadly not what the songtitle "Milline päev" means) shone in the audience, creating an amazing mood.

• Hey everyone, the 10 years challenge is back! This time it’s with the violin virtuousess(???) Sandra Nurmsalu, the lead of Urban Symphony, who deserved much more than a 3rd place. Unfortunately the Estonians did not bring her back to get her desired revenge, which meant that they thought that they woodn’t need no magic tale fairy that’d grant them tree wishes and let her magic wand our out the wondrous [sic] sawdust. I’m already seeing myself out for how terrible this sounded. And it’s a bit saddening about this not doing as well as some hoped, considering she would have brough out the new and the better Jacques Houdek teas:

• Other favourite act of mine from this year, besides the aforementioned “ever-so-gender-ambiguous-looking INGER” with her indie-folk jingle “Coming Home”, was the charming disco-haired Sissi Nylia Benita with a wholesomely radio bop “Strong”, and they both actually looked like they stood a chance in the superfinal vote-up now that the actual Eesti Laul fan favourites, pretty cute pop boys like piano-indie-pop-driven Stefan and electro-pop-and-Kirkorov-driven Uku Suviste, were not receiving enough support by the juries I guess??? I’ll show a video to INGER if anything and link you all to the rest so you could judge these young and beautiful souls to yourselves in a way!

• Other note-worthy acts include another song about the notorious instrument horsefly in Ee-Lawl’s history that stood even less chance than “Parmupillihullus” but is still fun regardless, and the united forces of Tanja (EE 2014) and Birgit (EE 2013) trying to compose a bigband talk show anthem and dedicating the lyrics for them being ladies with their high heels out on. And honestly, that’s all I’m gonna talk of acts-wise because most other songs were THAT of a radiofriendly-radio-filler that they don’t warrant anything else exciting for me to say.

• No but for real, the voting to the superfinal was completely off-rails. Instead of Victor, juries were there to support that Kerli woman that wasn’t from 2017 (and her soft acoustic song too), as well as Sissi and INGER (but you already know that because I barely read my write-ups before I finish them, hence lots of redundancy). At least that’s all to my knowledge. But everything definitely changed when the televote attacked! And turned the top 3 all male, lol. This voting was rather random simply because the juries didn’t really love Victor, but it definitely took the televote to convince them that “lol Victor is definitely worth of Eurovision!!! screw that he’s non-Estonian!!!” (the difference is that Victor doesn’t have a big social media following unlike Bilal and didn’t win an obnoxiously people-powered talent show unlike USNK from A Dal 2018 - it’s just that he’s more backed by Stig Rästa, and Stig is love, Stig is life.) Honestly, I am all up for unpredictable voting, but if it looks unpleasant to me, then I feel like tuning out.

We’re over with this write-up, thank-fuck-fully, so that you won’t need to hear me lamenting how supposedly cheap “Storm” is ever again. But before that I will have to leave you with some Eurovision 2019 facts coming on: Estonian delegation can be lucky for once - instead of having had to panic for spending an egregious amount of money for a staging detail, this year they don’t have to worry, as the organizers were so shook by Victor’s stormy sky effect, they offered to pay for it themselves!!! Crazy, huh??? (reported for favouritism)

And now I’m done. And we’re moving on to another review and I end up wishing Victor Crone the every best of luck out there. Storm out with a good time well spent! (Whatever that might mean.)

[starlight-seeker]

ALL OF THEM ~~~~~~~

1: The last person you kissed screams they love you, you say…It really depends who the person Is lol, I haven’t kissed anyone in a long time and the last person wasn’t so great so I would kindly reject them ://

2: Did you get to sleep in today?

FUCK YES I SLEPT UNTIL 1:30 PM

3: You never know what you got until you lose it?

It throws a lot into perspective. There’s a lot people take for granted and once you loose it you don’t realize until it’s gone and you can’t get it back.

4: Do you have siblings?

An older brother whose 9 years apart from me named Chris.

5: How many kids do you want?

2 probably, both more likely adopted.

6: Who was the last person you held hands with?

Collin Aka Literal-Trashlord.

7: Did you stand on your tippy-toes for your last kiss?

Nah, person was shorter than me lmao.

8: Do you think if you died, the last person you kissed would care?

Who knows. I don’t really care weirdly enough lol.

9: Last person to talk on the phone?

My mother.

10: Did anyone watch you the last time you kissed someone?

No.

11: When’s your birthday?

June 3rd.

12: Remember the first time you kissed the last person you kissed?

Not really, I kind of blocked the memory out lmao.

13: What kind of phone do you have?

Iphone S7

14: Are you wearing jeans, shorts, sweatpants, or pajama pants?

Rn I’m wearing my work pants 😩

15: Are you a different person now than you were 5 years ago?

God I hope so, I wasn’t in a great place mentally then lmao.

16: What were you doing at 4 am?

LMAO THATS LOADED. LATELY MY GAY ASS HAS BEEN FINDING MURDER MYSTERIES AND BUZZFEED VIDEOS WHILE TEXTING FRIENDS AS THEY SLEEP.

17: Would you rather write a paper or give a speech?

Paper definitely.

18: Are you lying to yourself about something?

Probably. 👀🗡

19: Last night you felt…?

Fine mostly, tired and a bit sore.

20: What’s something you cannot wait for?

To be able to go stargazing with someone close to me as well as get my life together hopefully and travel.

21: Ever told your parents you were going somewhere but when somewhere different?

I think so. I haven’t done that to my biological mom at least 😂

22: How many hours of sleep did you get last night?

Uh…7 and a half hrs?? I went to bed at 5:35 and woke up at 1:30 pm.

23: Are you a morning or night person?

Definitely a night owl. Morning person Rarely.

24: What did you get your last bruise from?

I banged into my friends counter like a dumbass. That or I was doing a price check and hit into something.

25: Do you reply to all of your texts?

Mostly though i forget to reply sometimes oof.

26: Your phone is ringing. It’s the person you fell hardest for. What do you do?

Talk to them casually, times passed and we’re still close beyond reason. ❤️

27: Did your last kiss take place in/on a bed?

No. I don’t really care about it 😤

28: Anyone you would like to get things straight with?

Yeah, a few people honestly. Some I was extremely close to.

29: How many months until your birthday?

12

30: Favorite thing to eat with peanut butter?

Celery or Apple slices.

31: Did you like this past summer?

It was good. So yeah I can’t complain.

32: What were you doing before you got on the computer?

Working and hanging out with friends.

33: Your ex is sitting next to you, with their new partner. What do you do?

Big oof. Honestly make the best of it?? Really no reason to get upset at this point.

34: What is the last thing you said out loud?

“Get fucked, Steve.” (We were playin Yahtzee with an Ai)

35: Your mood summed into one word?

O O F.

36: Are you doing anything else besides taking this survey?

playing Yahtzee with friends and an Ai Whose kicking all our asses.

37: What are your initials?

K. C. M.

38: Are you a happy person?

Generally though I do struggle with depression but no big deal.

39: Do you still talk to the person you liked 4 months ago?

Yeah, we’re still close friends.

40: Where do you want to live when your older?

I want to travel around, but I would love somewhere quiet with mountains where I can see stars almost every night.

41: Have you had your birthday this year?

Yes. We went to a trampoline park and got absolutely lit jumping around. 👀🔥

42: What did you do yesterday?

I worked 2:00 to 6:30 as a Cashier otherwise I went home and chilled out 😎

43: What will you be doing tomorrow?

Thankfully I have a day off tomorrow. So I’m probably gonna chill out and continue with ideas for a comic I might post soon.

44: How late did you stay up last night?

Until 5:35 AM.

45: Is there anyone you would do anything for?

Yeah definitely. I would drop everything for a select handful of people. Honestly I’d help anyone if I could.

46: Is it hard to make you laugh?

No omg. I laugh literally at anything unless I’m in a weird funk.

47: Do you believe ex’s can be just friends?

Yes, I’m still alright with one ex. But honestly work it out and hopefully things will be alright. Especially if its a mutual breakup things should be alright even if they’re awkward for a while.

48: Do you think any of your exes will eventually want to be with you again?

Lmao nah. I doubt it.

49: How many people have you had feelings for in the year of 2012?

BRUH YOU ACT LIKE I REMEMBER

50: Do you wish your ex was dead?

Never wish that on somebody.

51: Have you ever dyed your hair?

Yes I had it dyed Teal once.

52: Would ever take back someone that cheated?

I doubt it. I’d have issues trusting them.

53: Was New Year’s Even enjoyable?

This year shockingly was.

54: Bet you’re missing someone right now?

Yeah, I miss my family a lot. I don’t really get to see them. I got to see my mom today and I was really happy. ❤️

55: How would your parents react if you got a tattoo?

My mom probably wouldn’t like it at first but grow to like it knowing her, she wants to get a butterfly tattoo on her wrist.

56: Sleep on your back or stomach?

Stomach and side mostly. I can’t really get comfy on my back :((

57: If you could move away, no questions asked, where would it be ?

Somewhere nice and fun. Probably star lit and mountain filled but still some hustle and bussle.

58: What would you change about your life right now?

Living situation, I love living with my best friend but sometimes I miss living with my mom?? Idk.

59: Has anything upset you in the past week?

Yeah a handful of personal things. But I feel alright now.

60: Are you on the phone?

Yes

61: Today, would you rather go forward a week or back?

Probably back, I’d rather redo a few days than skip and loose out.

62: Would you take $40,000 or a brand new car?

Probably 40,000 so I can give some and help others.

63: Have you ever talked to someone when they were high?

OH YEAH THATS AN EXPERIENCE

64: Ever cried while you were on the phone with someone?

A few times, mostly when I’m stressed out or the situation is really tough.

65: Have you ever copied someone elses homework?

Yes. Especially when I forgot it and my friend came in clutch.

66: Are you the type of person who likes to be out or at home?

I’m a mix. There’s days I love to be out others inside and relaxing.

67: Do you automatically check your phone when you wake up?

It’s my alarm clock so sadly.

68: Have you ever stayed up all night on the phone?

Sadly, yes.

69: Could you use some sleep right now?

Probably like 20 + hrs. One good ass nap.

70: Are you going to have a baby by the time you’re 18?

Looks at age. Uhm 😂😂😂

71: Does it bother you when someone hides things from you?

Yeah. I’d rather the person come to me than hide it and talk shit. Even if it hurts I’d rather know and fix the situation.

72: What’s your favorite color?

I love deep reds but I also like blues and purples.

73: Have you ever slept in the same room with someone you liked?

Yes a few times

74: Have you ever been looking for something and it was already in your hand?

LMAO YES. i was looking for my wallet once and panicked but i was holding it.

75: Do you get annoyed easily?

Depending on the situation but when the questions dumb as hell or argument yes.

76: If someone liked you, would you want them to tell you?

Yeah. I’d rather know so I don’t accidentally break their heart. I’d rather know so I can confront the situation though still I’d be extremely flattered.

77: Do you have a person of the opposite sex that you can tell everything to?

Yes.

78: Does anyone call you babe?

Yeah a handful of people.

79: How many people of the opposite sex do you fully trust?

A lot ????

80: What do you prefer, relationship or one night stand?

Relationship. Never had a one nighter lol.

81: What color hoodie did you wear last?

Dark purple with writing on it from my college 😂

82: Is there someone who meant alot to you at one point, and isn’t around anymore?

Yeah. Someone I really did trust and love. They did some shitty stuff and I had to break the friendship off but even now I find myself checking in on them now and again even though the answer is always the same or really cold.

[davidmann95]

It seems Tyler Hoechlin is your favorite live-action Superman, but can you rank the actors from worst to best as you see it (of the current actors, I'm not sold on Hoechlin yet, but I think it has more to do with my dislike of his costume—particularly how the cape attaches—that it distracts me from the character, while Cavill seems to physically look perfect for the part and certainly is capable of the acting and charm, but the script he has to work with is lacking)?

Leaving out Kirk Alyn, John Haymes Newton and Gerard Christopher, since I’m not familiar with their performances:

7. Tom Welling

I feel kind of bad about this one. I grew up watching Smallville, y’know? And in terms of sheer man-hours devoted to the role, Welling has more of a claim to being Superman than anyone other than Bud Collyer. But he…wasn’t great, in retrospect. I suspect it was largely a matter of the material he was given; he did well whenever he actually had something to do, whether as dorky reporter Clark Kent intermittently throughout the final season, or various cases of amnesia/mind control/body-swapping/Red Kryptonite exposure. But outside maybe a sweet spot after he’d grown into the role and before he visibly started to get tired of it, and occasionally when getting to spar with (better) actors like Durance, Rosenbaum, and Glover, he had a weird stiffness when playing regular Clark Kent that for the most part didn’t translate into charm once he couldn’t bank on teen awkwardness anymore, and while that frankly made him a pretty honest depiction of the increasingly dicey version of the character he was written as, it didn’t make for a great take on Superman.

6. Henry Cavill

Cavill’s been more let down by the material than anything else - the unfortunate unifying factor of the bottom three here. When the movies let him be great, he really is great, whether promising Martha that he isn’t going anywhere even after learning the truth about Krypton or fighting for the stories he believes in against Perry White. For the most part though he just seems to be called on to look varying degrees of sad and solemn, asked to call on none of the charm he showed in, say, The Man From U.N.C.L.E. Granted his Superman has a lot to be down about, but there’s no range on display here; I don’t doubt he’s got a great take on the character in him, but for now it’s being kept under wraps.

5. Brandon Routh

Of all the reasons Superman Returns was such a damn shame, maybe the biggest was that it buried any chance of seeing the performance out of Brandon Routh that he so clearly had to offer. He’s a great dorky Clark, a charming Superman, and when the stars line up just right, he really manages to capture the idea of Superman as a melancholy figure - his take doesn’t just seem to be bearing the weight of the world in the philosophical abstract, but much more palpably feels an entire planet crying out for him, knowing he can never save them all but always trying anyway out of unconditional love, very much in line with Garth Ennis and John McCrea’s take on him in Hitman. Unfortunately all that takes up maybe 10-15 minutes of runtime, spending the rest of the movie stalking his ex with a neutral expression until he gets shived by Kevin Spacey and regurgitates Brando at his secret kid. Superman Returns was weird, ya’ll.

4. Dean Cain

I was honestly surprised with myself when I decided Cain won out as the best of the rest outside the big three - I thought for sure it’d be Routh. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that while Routh’s take is definitely closer to the version of Superman I had in my head, it’s compromised in a way the Superman of Lois & Clark never was: like the take or not, this is a perfect realization of the Superman the creators of the show clearly had in mind. His Clark’s funny, clever, warm, and vulnerable, and while it feels weird for him to be acting that way in the glasses these were the Byrne years, so as an expression of his ‘real’ self it’s pretty on-point. His Superman’s the weaker end, stilted even given it’s supposed to be him putting on a performance in-universe, but there’s such an unironic earnestness there that it typically slid back into charming.

3. George Reeves

I thought for awhile about 2 and 3, ultimately concluding that what was asked of George Reeves was a fair deal simpler. He didn’t much differentiate between Superman and Clark, and his booming radio announcer voice made clear we weren’t supposed to be measuring his performance in terms of whether or not he seemed like a real person. What he was called on to show though, and what he had out the wazoo, was raw charisma. When Jimmy asks him why he burst through a wall rather than using a door and Superman replies with a grin “Well, this seemed a little more spectacular,” you’re 100% willing to buy into that explanation, because yeah, it was spectacular, because Superman’s fantastic. And he could more than hold his own with the best of them when asked to work with more serious material, whether wandering through an amnesic fog in Panic In The Sky with only his instinctive decency to guide him, or here, in the final scene of The Dog Who Knew Superman, where Clark has to deal with a dog not only adoring him, but recognizing him in both identities:

2. Christopher Reeve

I gave Tom Welling his well-earned due earlier, but if you really want to talk about a guy with a solid claim to being Superman, Christopher Reeve didn’t just embed himself on the psyche of a generation, but is still held up today as the unequivocal standard by which the role is set. In all likelihood he’ll always be ‘the’ Superman, in the same way as Sean Connery will always be James Bond, and Bela Lugosi will always be Dracula. He shone like the sun in the costume, he was believably such a wimpy klutz out of it that no one would guess they were the same even when it was staring them in the face, and if anyone has any lingering suspicions that he just had the easy task of playing two extremely arch roles to the hilt, they might be forgetting this bit:

Was it perfect? I don’t know about that - if nothing else there were one or two awkward line readings, and the identity division is so sharp that it’s hard to tell when you’re getting a glimpse of the real guy underneath all the identities. But while I definitely question how much of a positive impact on Superman those movies themselves really had in the long run, Reeve’s performance on its own was an undeniable revelation, everything he did reverberating with such a sincere and powerful sense of decency and love for his fellow man that it not only brought Superman to the life, but frankly changed him forever for the better.

1. Tyler Hoechlin

I expected nothing out of this guy. Not that I by any means thought he’d be bad, but when I heard some dude from Teen Wolf was gonna appear on an episode or two of Supergirl, my reaction was about as intense as…well, what you’d expect upon hearing that some dude from Teen Wolf was showing up on Supergirl, even given who he was playing (granted I’ve never seen Teen Wolf and don’t actually especially know what Teen Wolf is, beyond that it’s based on that werewolf-playing-basketball 80s movie written by…wait, Jeph Loeb?!). Looked fine - and it became clear he actually really did look the part once behind-the-scenes pictures started to come out, rather than that godawful original promo picture - and I figured he’d belt out his best Reeve/Animated Series/Cartoon-on-the-side-of-a-cereal-box brand Generic Superman Performance to cheer Kara on before vanishing into the sunset forever outside of the opening credits. I was plenty interested in the potential long-term ramifications of Superman being allowed on TV again in any capacity for the first time since the 90s, given the influence that suggested Geoff Johns had as the new DC President and what that could mean in terms of other characters showing up down the line, but I wasn’t inclined to think of this as anything other than a stepping stone, only notable in its own right because it meant someone would be wearing the s-shield.

Then we actually saw him.

Where the hell has this guy been all these years? Was he grown in a goddamn laboratory for the part? How did the best Superman ever end up in a minor recurring guest spot on the CW Supergirl show?

It would be so, so easy to leap to the idea that he simply works as a jack-of-all-trades: he’s almost as charming as Reeve, just about as confident as Reeves, nearly as vulnerable as Cain. But that would be selling what he’s doing short - especially given that he probably hasn’t had the opportunity to stretch as far as he could in any of those directions, as his role so far has very much been as Supergirl’s backup dancer. What it comes down to is his general demeanor and how he incorporates those aspects into a whole that feels more fully-realized than any portrayal before him. His Superman and Kent are not only distinctive to the point that within the heightened reality the show occupies you can buy that people think of them as different people, but you can see threads from both of them connecting back to the real Clark you see around Kara. He’s open and warm and authentic in a way none of his predecessors quite were, and he’s able to turn on a dime into steely determination or outright fury while remaining recognizable. He’s above everyone’s heads and vaguely alien at times without ever seeming detached or less than entirely loving of the people around him, able to admit his fears and failings while staying strong and capable of changing for the better, utterly and palpably good without ever sliding into naivete or cartoonishness. In short he has range and nuance, and thanks to that along with the air of laid-back friendliness he brings with him, he more than anyone else to put on the suit feels like a real person. And somehow, that real person feels as much as anyone ever has like Superman. And that’s a hell of an achievement. So someone give him his own goddamn show already.

[winchester-barnes]

Cave Man

Summary: After a mission goes astray, Bucky finds himself taking care of you in a cave until somebody is able to fly back out to get the two of you and take you back to the tower.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Slight language, plane crash trigger?, fluff for dayz.

A/N: This is my first fic, so I know it’s not the best. It’a gonna take me a while to get used to posting fics. I gladly welcome advice and criticism!! Feedback appreciated! Hope you enjoy it!

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., where's Y/L/N? We have to find her," Tony urges. "Please tell me she did not listen to me earlier when I told everybody to turn stealth on."

"She does have stealth on, sir, I am unable to locate her. My apologies," the team's AI replied, sounding genuinely sad. "I'll keep the radar on though, just in case."

"Dammit. It's not your fault, F.R.I.D.A.Y. Thanks for keeping the radar on anyway. Let us know if you pick anything up," Steve stutters over the team's frequency. "Hawk, where did seen her last?"

Clint is forced to swallow the lump in his throat before he can answer Cap's question. "I watched her blow through the plane's windshield and then seen her fly through the air going north before she fell behind the trees and I couldn't see her anymore." Clint was the last person to have a visual on you, but his last visual doesn't help them much.

"It's been half an hour or so since that happened. She'll die if we don't find her soon, assuming she’s buried in the snow," Thor mumbles grimly.

Natasha groans and fights back tears. "This is my fault, guys. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told her to handle the guys on the plane."

"There is no fault here, Nat," Tony comforts her. "You told her to take care of what seemed to be the most important thing in that moment, and there's nothing wrong with that. You know Y/N would've done anything it took to keep you safe while you secured the strongbox, including what she done today. Don't blame yourself, Natasha."

"Stark's right, Nat," a now un-hulked Dr. Banner adds a little too cheerfully. "I'd be willing to bet that she won't blame you for this after we find her."

"Guys," Bucky spouts over the coms, nearly cutting Dr. Banner off. "I found Y/L/N. I'm digging her out of the snow now. She's alive but I don't know exactly how alive she is. Thor, go ahead and take Steve and Barton back to the complex. Stark, you take care of Romanoff and Banner. Whoever gets back to the complex first needs to get another jet and fly back here to get Y/L/N and me. She's gonna need a quick ride back to the tower." A rough flight with Thor or Tony back to the complex right now might do you more harm than good since nothing is known yet about your health.

Nobody has ever been so happy to hear Bucky's voice. Well, except for Steve, but it has been that way since the 40s. A string of relieved sighs and excited whoops echo over the frequency.

"We'll get things ready for her. What will Y/N need, Barnes?" Nat asks as Tony takes her in his arms, ready to take flight. And as always, Steve is awkward and reluctant when holding on to Thor for their flight back to the complex.

Everybody is airborne enroute to the Avengers complex before Bucky can put words together to answer Natasha. "Well she'll need heat for sure, dry clothes, and she'll need a little doctoring," Bucky replies. "Oh man... Her heart is just barely beating. The skin that I can see is blue and I don't know if she can't move on her own. I'm going to have to warm her up somehow before we take her anywhere and try to do anything with her. I'm going to take her back into the forest a ways and try to find a place where the trees have kept snow off the ground so I can lay her there till we get a ride back."

"Is Y/N conscious?" Dr. Banner inquires.

Bucky stares intensely at your face for a second before pulling one of your eyelids back to see if he can tell. "I don’t think so. She's alive, though, and that's all that matters."

With every ounce of gingerness he has, Bucky picks you up and cradles you against him as he begins running. He has no clue if you have any broken bones or where the breaks are if there are any, so holding you against him while he runs into the forest is a dangerous game but it's a game he has to play. Freezing to death is you number one enemy right now.

"Hey, Buck, I think I seen a cave back in the woods a piece," declares Steve suddenly. "I know that sounds like it shouldn't be true, but I think that's what I seen."

"Like, an actual cave?" Bucky asks, almost rolling his eyes.

Steve does roll his eyes. "Yes. About a mile past what we didn't blow up of the HYRDA building on the right."

The team's frequency remains silent after that exchange as Bucky focuses on finding that cave Steve thinks he seen. Bucky is also trying not to focus on you so much. Well, trying not to focus on your face at the moment. When he stared at you so carefully earlier to see if your were conscious, Bucky cursed himself under his breath because he caught himself thinking things about you as he looked at you. Sprinting through the forest at almost full speed, Bucky wants to look down at you and just stare but he knows he can't do that. Not only because he's running like a race horse through thick woods, but...you are his friend. He's liked you since he met you, but he's tried to not allow himself to think things or feel things about you other than what a normal friend would.

Gawd almighty, she is beautiful, Bucky thinks to himself.

Alright, so Steve's eyes didn't deceive him. The boy saw an actual cave in this forest however long ago when they arrived here for the mission.

"Let's pretend that I believed that you actually saw the cave this whole time," Bucky says to Steve, breaking the silence. "I'm walking into it now." Steve's guttural laugh brings a smile to even Bucky's face.

Finding a large dry area in the back of the cave that hasn't been affected by the gaping holes in the top of the rock ceiling, Bucky lays you down as carefully as he picked you up. He sheds his jacket and spreads it down on the cave floor next to you to act as a barrier between your body and the cold ground. He scoops you up once more and lays you back down onto his jacket. You haven’t stirred at any point yet, but your skin isn't looking at blue as it did earlier.

"Hey Barnes, turn yours and Y/N’s stealth off so we know where the hell you guys are," Tony insists as he watches the screen on the inside of his helmet, waiting to see your’s and Bucky‘s locations pop up on the map. And as Bucky does what he's told, two more small blue dots appear on the map. "Ah, that's better. The gang's all here," jokes Tony. He likes keeping tabs on everyone for obvious reasons.

"We've made it to Midgard, but the Gatekeeper isn't here," states Thor with a curious tone. "The only reason we made it into Midgard without the Gatekeeper being here is because the gate was left open. We cannot go anywhere until the Gatekeeper returns, whenever that may be. Cap, Clint, and I will go search for him. So this means we're probably down for the count for a while. Sorry, Barnes."

"It's alright. Stark, how far are you guys from the complex?" Bucky questions as he tries lighting a fire by striking a stone against his metal arm above a decent-sized bird's nest that had been laying there on the floor when they arrived. Bucky assumes the nest has been built on a ledge in the cave somewhere and just fell after so long.

"Still another hour or so," Tony confesses. "We're going to have stop for a little while though and work on this suit. It's not meant to carry me plus two other people in flight for long distances. J.A.R.V.I.S. has been screaming at me to stop and work on it because my flight capacitors are almost done."

"It would've been nice had someone not crashed our jet upon arrival for our mission, huh, Tony?" Natasha butts in with sass in her voice. Tony remains silent, but it's safe to bet that that he made some kind of annoyed face at Natasha's comment.

"So now there’s no telling how long it will take somebody to get a jet and come get us?" snarls Bucky with a sigh. "Alright, well, I better get this fire started pretty quick then. I'll do what I can for Y/L/N till somebody gets here. Bring everything you're getting for her on the jet when somebody comes. This earpiece has been fried or something, it's starting to make a staticky noise. I'm turning it off. If anybody needs anything, use Y/L/N's communication. Barnes out." Bucky wanted to be done talking to everyone. In fact, that's the most he's talked to any of them at one time.

The fire is a bad idea in the way of someone from HYDRA seeing the smoke and finding them, but it's a risk Bucky is taking because you need heat in a bad way. He's pretty certain they killed every HYDRA agent in that building, but Bucky also thought he had died seventy years ago when he fell from that plane, so the sureness of every HYDRA agent being dead means almost nothing. Bucky walks a short distance from the cave and searches for dry wood or anything that looks like it will burn. Should he not find anything to burn, he decides that he will just tear one of his shirts into shreds and feed the fire with it. The serum regulates and adjusts his body temperature in a crazy way like Steve's serum does for him, so even in this -20°F Russian cold Bucky's core body temperature is holding steady at around the normal human body temperature and the outside of his body is what he guesses to be around 80°F. He doesn't really need all these clothes on to be in this cold weather, but it helps keep the serum from overkilling it with the temperature adjustments. Bucky finds only a few dry sticks of wood and a wad of dry moss on the underside of a hollow log, though, sparing one of his shirts from being fire kindling for a little bit anyway. He places the moss on the bed of coals first because moss smolders rather than blazes, causing the fire to put good heat out without burning through the precious few dry sticks of wood right off the bat. If he hasn't already put the wood onto the small fire by the time you wake up, he will do so whenever you do wake up so that way you have a decent fire to warm yourself with.

After the bird nest fire is stable enough to leave alone, Bucky sits down next to you and begins checking you over for injuries. Watch yourself, Barnes, Bucky's mind echoes, warning him about not letting his heart fall any deeper for you than it already has as he prepares to assess your current bodily situation.

Your face has a few small gashes that appear to be free of glass and one decent bruise on her left cheek, but that's all the facial damage you have, nothing to really worry about. The top and sides of your head including your ears seem to be alright, Bucky discovers. There is a chance that one or both of your ears may have internal damage due to the explosion, though. There are no bumps or cuts on your head like he expected there to be, and that comes as a pleasant surprise. He looks at and feels of your neck and the back of your head and nothing appears to be wrong. Again with all of the gingerness, Bucky picks each of your arms up and rubs each of them with enough pressure to check for breaks, and there doesn't seem to be any. He does the same thing with both of your legs and it's the same, no evident breaks or other injuries. He takes your wet gloves off of your hands and the wet boots and socks off of your feet and lays them on a rock by the fire. He's trying his best to be respectful, but Bucky can't help himself but to just simply hold your freezing hands in his, but just holding them turns into warming them up. Bucky rubs your hands and fingers in his, blowing hot breaths on them every so many seconds. He's gentle enough to not hurt you but rough enough to cause warm friction. Your hands go from pale blue to a more normal color within minutes due to Bucky's dedication to warming your hands. After he's confident that your hands are warm enough and have feeling back in them, Bucky just holds your hands without working them. He gazes at them, noticing details he'd never seen before; he admires how soft and delicate your hands are considering everything that you do with them. You never paints your nails because of the hate you have for nail polish, Bucky remembers, and he's glad because he thinks that the natural pinkish-white color of your nails is pretty enough without polish on them. He lightly traces the lines on both of your hands, going from the lines to your fingers, and then your fingers to tracing all of the bones he can see that make your hands what they are. He desperately wishes his metal hand could feel your hands, not just his flesh hand.

Come on, Barnes, stay focused on checking her for injuries, he thinks to himself.

Bucky knows it's not right of him to do this, for his own heart's sake and out of respect for you, but if you does have an injury somewhere beneath your clothes on your front side, he needs to know so maybe he can do something about it. Bucky half-reluctantly unzips two layers of coats and untucks five different shirts. His mind is screaming at him, telling him that he should not be doing this, but he just has to completely shut his mind out. Bucky examines your bra-clad torso and sees no apparent injuries, no blood anywhere. He carefully runs his hands up and down both sides of your rib cage to check for any abnormalities and finds none, and the same goes for your collar bones and sternum.

Bucky takes your coats off of you because you need the heat to get to you body, and he very carefully slips each shirt except for the very last one off of you. Because your inner second coat was still dry, Bucky wads it up and slides it under your head as a pillow. He lays your outer wet and cold coat on the opposite side of the fire to warm and dry it with a plan to use it as a "heated blanket" for you a little later when it's ready.

Seeing you in your training tank top was nothing new to Bucky, but each time is just as wonderful as the last, much like right now but it's better this time because there's nobody around to catch Bucky gazing lovingly at you.

Bucky knew checking under your shirts was necessary and important because of the number of potentially fatal injuries that could've been on your top half, but he has drawn a line at checking your bottom half. Bucky has already made sure your legs weren't broken anywhere with your pants still on, but he has no intentions of checking anything else under your pants. Bucky has too much respect for you to do that, and even checking under your shirts made him feel lower than a snake's belly. But what Bucky has decided to do is treat your bottom half just like the top half. This makes him feel just as low as checking under your shirts did, but he's doing it for the same reason—so the heat from the fire can get to your legs.

Bucky regretfully counts the waistbands to see how many layers of pants you have on, and then he proceeds gently removing three layers of pants, leaving your last layer on.

Bucky now has you stripped down to her last layer of clothes, your training tank top and the shorts that actually match it. Matching, of course; classic Y/N. The sight of your bare legs make Bucky's weak as they are the legs of a goddess even though you yourself don’t think so. Bucky has seen your legs before when you’ve worn a dress a few times in the past, but he's never seen you in anything that comes above your knees until now; these shorts are nearly considered underwear in Bucky's mind. He's never seen this much of you in general. You normally wear this tank top to training and capri-length yoga pants with it for training; you don’t ever wear these shorts for training.

Bucky is confident that you are wholly okay. He hasn't checked your back yet, but he found you face down in the snow like you belly-flopped into it so he thinks that your back is fine other than maybe just being sore. He will check your back after you wake up. Bucky still doesn't even know if you’re truly unconscious or just sleeping or what you are. Your eyes have been closed since before he found you, you haven't moved the slightest bit on your own that Bucky has noticed, and you haven't made any noise at all. You didn't stir a single time when Bucky was checking to see if you were hurt anywhere, and that's leading him to believe that you may be truly unconscious.

Bucky notices your bare feet out of the corner of his eye and remembers he never warmed them up after he took your socks and boots off. He moves down to the other end of you and feels each foot with his flesh hand; your feet are colder than your hands were. Bucky knows you are insanely ticklish on your feet and you don’t like the bottoms of them touched in general, so not wanting to highly disturb you in your questionable mental state, he puts your feet under his shirt and holds them to his stomach while rubbing the tops of your feet gently to warm them. Bucky understands why you don’t like the bottoms of your feet touched, but what he doesn't understand is why you don’t like people being able to see your bare feet. You’ve mentioned before how you just hate it when your bare feet are visible to anybody but yourself, but you never said why.

Bucky lifts his shirt up to look at your feet since this is possibly the only time he will ever get to see them—although he hopes not.

They're cute little feet, thinks Bucky as he smiles.

But in actuality, they are not little feet. Bucky thinks of them as little because he thinks they are cute, but short, petite you wears a size nine-wide. Bucky remembers what a hilarious fuss Fury made about finding boots that fit your just right back when you joined the team. That was a great day.

As warm as Bucky is, it still took him a lot longer to warm your popsicle feet than it did to warm your hands, but your feet are finally warm and have a normal color back to them. Bucky gently pulls the coat on which you are laying closer to the fire and sits down on the opposite side of the fire so he could just look at you.

He is struggling with knowing what's right and knowing what's not necessarily wrong but not entirely right. There's not a S.H.I.E.L.D. policy that says no fraternizing that he knows about, but Bucky doesn't really want to risk the friendship that the two of you have by trying to be more than friends. He loves and respects you too much as a friend to risk losing you... But he also loves you and wants you enough to chance being more than friends with you also.

Bucky believes that you and himself would make a great couple, but he's almost too scared to find out. Bucky's silent yet strong love for you doesn't show, but right now it wouldn't take much to notice the way he's looking at you.

Since your arrival at the Avengers complex, Bucky has felt responsible for you in a way; he feels protective over you and he doesn't really know why. Bucky thought Steve would pair him and you together for this mission because Bucky thought he'd made it clear to Steve how he felt about you, but you were partnered with Natasha instead, and Nat ended up getting you in trouble and still possibly hurt. Bucky doesn't hold that against Nat, but he knows that wouldn't have happened if you had have been with him instead. But if you had have been with him rather than Nat, you wouldn't have gotten in trouble and possibly hurt and this one-on-one cave time with you wouldn't be happening for Bucky...

Not worth it, Bucky whispers to himself.

He would've rathered you not been put in harm's way at all.

Oh, but it does feel worth it.