#brother how bad do you think you are going to get slashed

[mediumgayitalian]

“Oh, fuck.”

The clatter of her practice sword on the ground is almost louder than the crunch that rings out from his wrist. He inhales sharply, biting back a shout — no matter how many times it’s happened, he will never get used to breaking a bone. That shit hurts.

“Fuck, fuck fuck. Fuck, Seaweed Brain, is it broken?”

“Think so,” Percy grits out. He tries for a smile, and Annabeth matches it, small and worried. He leans into the hand she cups over his cheek. “Not too bad, though. If I just dump my water bottle on it —”

“Absolutely not. Water healing leaves you achey when it rains, you know that.” Shifting to wrap her arm around his waist, she helps him stand, shouldering some of his weight like it’s his ankle that’s broken. He lets her, reaching down to squeeze the hand resting on his hip — I’m fine. We’re good. She turns her hand to wrap clasp their hands together — Okay. If you’re sure.

They walk together to the infirmary, taking their time. Aside from the pain pulsing from his arm, it’s not too bad — camp is as balmy as usual, and the spring break energy is practically visible, it’s so potent. The Demeter cabin has plants growing everywhere, flowers and fruit trees blooming as bright as a box of new crayons, and the air is filled with shouts of laughter and teasing. Annabeth’s steps fall in time with his, and she’s a comfortable warmth at his side, pressed from shoulder to hip.

“You still okay?”

“Yep.” He catches her eye, smiling crookedly at her. “Doesn’t even make my top fifty.”

She rolls her eyes, hipchecking him. “Don’t I know it, ya klutz.”

“Not sure I would call being flung from the St. Louis Arch being a klutz. Or exploded in a volcano. Or crushed under the sky. Or slashed by giants. Or chased by —”

“You’re talking, but all I’m hearing is Annabeth, please, please pinch me, as hard as you can —”

“Hey! Get those claws off me, gods you’re worse than an empousai —”

“— and when you’re done pinching me please put me in the tightest headlock you can manage —”

“I am injured! You are beating up an injured person right now!”

“— and then please just bite a chunk out of my shoulder —”

“Cut it out or I’m telling Mom!”

“Wimp,” she taunts, finally releasing him. “I don’t go running to Sally every time I lose a fight.”

“Wha — you do so!”

She ducks through the infirmary door, smirking like she can’t hear him.

“You literally — you snitched on me last week! I got grounded for two days!”

“And you deserved it,” she says primly.

He gapes. “I did not!”

“Anytime you two are done,” Kayla drawls, shoving a clipboard at them. They accept it with matching sheepish grins, cowed at her perfectly arched eyebrow and slowly tapping foot. “I got patients to deal with and older brothers to harass. Let’s get this moving.”

She is shockingly good at humbling people for a thirteen year old. The two of them turn to their clipboard, chagrined, letting her stomp away with an exasperated He’ll be with you soon! Don’t set off the sprinklers again!

“That was one time,” Percy mumbles, ears reddening.

Annabeth pats him on the back. “There, there,” she says mockingly. “The fact that it was one time definitely negates the fact that you flooded the entire Big House because you got jumpscared by a child.”

“Harley can be sneaky, okay. Let me live.”

“Literally no.”

Annabeth does most of the paperwork for him, ‘cause she’s a nerd because his wrist is far too swollen for him to write properly, so it takes maybe half the time it normally would. The infirmary is crowded as Hell, though (he knows, he’s been), so they settle in for the wait, amusing themselves by tearing little pieces off of a blank form, balling them up, and tossing them in increasingly harder places. Percy is winning 7-4, although Annabeth might just pull through if she manages to toss her paper ball into Travis’ wide-open snoring mouth.

“Hey, guys. Sorry for the wait.”

Aw. She missed. Percy was looking forward to that.

“Hey, Will.”

He drags his attention away from the son of Hermes to greet his friend, but frowns before he can open his mouth.

“Woah, dude, you good? You look exhausted.”

Will snorts. “Welcome to spring break, man.” He holds his hand out for the clipboard, scanning it briefly. “Sparring injury? Oh, thank the gods. I could use a break. Here, face me.”

He climbs up onto the minimal left over space on the cot, tucking his legs under his thighs. Percy turns to mirror him, hesitantly sticking out his arm — A break? he mouths to Annabeth, meeting her eyes over Will’s head.

She shrugs.

“Just spent four hours putting Jake’s nose back on his face,” Will mumbles, placing a careful hand on his fingertips and his forearm. Percy flinches — his skin is blisteringly hot. Like someone just dropped a hot stone onto him. “I never want to sing a skin cell hymn again in my life.” He prods at Percy’s wrist for a moment, gentle enough not to hurt. “Okay, hold still, I’m gonna fix ya right up.”

Healing hymns are familiar, by now, but Percy will never get tired of them.

The cool thing about ambrosia and nectar is that as pleasure food for the gods, it’s pleasant. It’s whatever taste you want, whatever you need to have most, you get it. But healing hymns are intentional the way nectar and ambrosia aren’t. Ambrosia and nectar happen to be healing for demigods — healing hymns were constructed to knit you back together, like you mother smoothing a bandaid over a skinned knee. They’re warm and sweet and deeply, endlessly comforting in a way most things simply cannot claim to be. They don’t feel like a medical procedure or a hasty patch job, they feel like someone gripping you tightly and promising you’ll be okay. They feel like getting carried to bed when you fall asleep on the couch. They feel like sitting down after hours of standing, like a drink of water when your throat is drier than sand. Healing hymns draw the pain and sick and ache from your body, and they feel like relief.

But this time, Percy can’t focus on it.

With every word, Will seems to get a little duller. Nothing like the horrible ash-grey he went in the war, dragging the poison from Annabeth’s body, but like his usual sunny disposition was dialed down a few notches. Enough that Annabeth frowns in concern, drumming her hands on her thighs, watching him closely.

“There,” Will says, pulling away. Percy turns his now-healed wrist, noticing the slight pant to Will’s breath, the strain to his smile. The shake of his blistered fingertips.

“You look overworked,” Annabeth says quietly.

Will holds his hands up in a what can you do gesture. “Spring break.”

“You said.”

“It’s just busy, is all.”

“Yeah, but —”

“Guys,” he interrupts, smiling tiredly, “there are two hundred ADHD demigods at this camp right now who have been trapped in a classroom for six months. There are three of us. I’m going to be a little drained; we’re all a little drained. But I’m fine, okay?” He gives them a second to scrutinize his expression, eyebrows raised in amusement. “I have been running my infirmary for years. I know how to pace myself, and I certainly know how to make sure my siblings are pacing themselves. If something goes really wrong, Chiron is a whistle away. I can go longer than you guys without sleep, anyway. Apollo kid health.”

“If you say so,” Percy says reluctantly. “I just — I can wear a wrist brace, man. Not every injury needs to be handled when it happens. You can tell people no.”

“I appreciate that, Percy, and I’ll keep it in mind. Anyways, I’ve got more patients. Stay off that wrist for the rest of the day, okay? It might be tender for a bit.”

Percy turns to Annabeth as Will leaves, frowning. He’s has never noticed the so-called spring break stress before (his camp spring breaks are usually a blast, but now that he’s thinking about it, he can’t think of a single spring break where he spent any time at all with Will, which is odd), but it can’t be good for him. There’s gotta be something they can do to ease some of the bruising under their friend’s eyes.

“I could set off the fire alarms again,” Percy suggests. “That’ll certainly get this place cleared out.”

Annabeth snorts. “I think that’ll cause more harm than good, Seaweed Brain. It’ll just fall in him to clean it all up, after.”

“Shoot.”

Percy counts nine of the forty cots currently unused. Will, Kayla, and Austin are rushing from cot to cot, handing out nectar, wrapping bandages, rattling off hymns at light speed. All three of them look exhausted, squeezing shoulders when they pass each other, knocking hips, exchanging tired smiles. This is so clearly something they’re used to.

Annabeth’s head rests on his shoulder.

“It wasn’t always like this,” she whispers. “When it was fully staffed…”

Percy exhales heavily. Yeah. He remembers. There was a lot less complication, once upon a time. The most chaotic the infirmary would get was when Lee would challenge his siblings to Hymn Karaoke — trying to heal with pop songs. There was a lot more laughter, at one point. A lot more people.

Percy sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. It never does well to dwell, but he — gods, he wish they all had more time. To sit with it, to acknowledge…everything. Siblings. Friends. A camp that’s smaller than it’s supposed to be.

Annabeth squeezes his hand again, and he squeezes back, resting his head on top of hers.

“Hey,” she murmurs after a moment, pursing her lips at the front door. “Look.”

Slinking through the entrance like a criminal is Nico, in all his dork ass black camp shirt glory. He looks around shiftily, like he’s trying to make sure no one sees him, and when his gaze lands on Percy and Annabeth his eyes widen. Annabeth smiles at him, but it does nothing to ease the spooked look to his face, back arched like a startled cat. He turns to leave, but before he can slip back out the door —

“Nico!”

The son of Hades whips back around so quickly he brains himself on the doorframe. Percy ducks his head and bites his lip, hard, because he can feel Nico’s glare at the side of his head like the press of hot coal, and if he laughs as badly as he wants to then the infirmary is about to look like a Spirit Halloween.

Will turns back to his patient, squeezing his eyes shut and rattling a hymn off so quickly it makes a burst of light pop from his whole body, and rushes over to where Nico’s standing. He only trips over two things, which is remarkable for him. Percy would be proud if he wasn’t a little embarrassed on his behalf.

“Nico! Hi!”

“He-ey, Will,” Nico says, voice cracking badly on every vowel. Annabeth shoves her face into Percy’s shoulder, body shaking.

“I didn’t know you were coming! I thought you were in the arena all day.”

Nico shrugs, shoes scuffing the floor. “I am. I just — uh, I got hurt? So. Came to see you.”

Will’s beam is so bright it hurts to look at, a little. Percy squints and realises that’s not just the excitement, actually — he really is glowing, faintly. His hands flap slightly at his sides.

“Well, you’re in the right place, then.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of them say anything for a minute, rocking back on their heels. Will watches Nico closely, biting his lip. Nico looks resolutely at the floor.

“We weren’t this bad,” Annabeth whispers, “were we?”

Percy shakes his head. “Nah, there’s no way.”

“Gods. It’s so — I don’t know whether to smile or take a dip in the Lethe. It’s embarrassing and endearing at the same time.”

“Painful to watch, but I can’t stop looking,” Percy agrees.

“What’d you hurt?” Will asks, finally. “Did you pull your shoulder again?”

A look of panic flits briefly across Nico’s face until he smooths it to something neutral, aloof.

“Yep. Totally. During — sword fighting, I swung — I did this really big thrust, actually. Just — hugely powerful, training dummy exploded on impact.” He clears his throat. “Some might say too powerful. If you can imagine.”

Percy cradles his head in his hands. “Oh my gods — ”

“Don’t laugh don’t laugh don’t laugh,” Annabeth chants, “oh my gods, don’t laugh —”

A light flush dusts Will’s cheeks. He brushes a strand of hair behind his ear, fiddling with his earrings. “Woah, really? I’ve never heard of that before.”

Nico smirks, standing up a little straighter. “Well, it’s not the first time. I tend to go pretty hard.” Remembering his supposedly hurt shoulder, he exaggerates a wince. “Too hard sometimes, I guess. Could you do the — the energy thing?”

“Oh — gods, yeah, sorry. Hold on.” He stares at Nico’s shoulder, hesitating. “It, um, works better with skin-to-skin contact.”

“I have seen crystal vases less transparent,” Annabeth says, aghast. “In two years he’s going to remember this and try to drown himself.”

“I will be counting down the days,” Percy says gleefully.

On rare, rare occasions, the gods answer his prayers. Clearly, both Nemesis and Aphrodite are looking at him kindly today. Percy makes a note to scrape some of the good stuff off his plate for them both today. Hell, maybe he’ll skip the portioning and toss them an entire roast chicken each. Or something. They deserve it.

Will places both hands — interesting, Percy notes, his wrist was snapped cleanly in two and he only needed one hand, wonder why that was — on Nico’s shoulder and closes his eyes, screwing up his face in concentration.

“Huh. I’m not feeling much damage. You said it was your right shoulder?”

“I heal quick,” Nico says loudly. “I mean, some of the damage might have — um.” He clears his throat. His face glows a faint crimson. He clears his throat again. “Y’know?”

Will’s face is a similar shade.

“Right, right. Yeah. Um, brace yourself.”

Instead of starting to sing, Will closes his eyes, holding completely still. After a moment, the tips of his fingers begin to glow; soft, ambery yellow, flickering like lit candles. He opens his eyes again and focuses intently on Nico’s bare skin, tracing patterns around every defined muscle, leaving a trail of light behind. He lingers, for a moment, when he connects the last string of light, waiting until it has faded entirely from Nico’s skin to remove his hands and shove them in the pockets of his coat.

“That better?” he asks softly.

Nico swallows. “Yeah.”

“Good. I’m glad, Nico. It means a lot that you — came to me. When you needed it.”

“I trust you, I guess.” Nico looks away. “You know what you’re doing.”

“I think I just threw up in my mouth a little,” Percy says thoughtfully.

Annabeth laughs, shoving his shoulder. “Don’t be mean.” She pauses. “Me too.”

With a sigh that can only be described as besotted, Will steps reluctantly away.

“I have patients,” he says, in the same tone of voice Percy usually says I have midterms. “So I gotta…”

“Yeah, no, go. Do your —” Nico gestures vaguely. “Doctor thing.”

“Right. Yeah. I’m gonna — go.” He turns, walking back towards a group of Hephaestus kids who appear to be tightly entangled in some kind of net. After a few steps, though, he pauses, biting his lip, then darts back over to Nico, pressing a lightning-fast kiss to his cheek — “Um, bye. Thank you for visiting. Bye,” — and then runs back over to his siblings, shy smile on his face.

Nico’s jaw is brushing the floor of his father’s palace. He stands, still as a statue, for four entire minutes.

“I think he just died,” Annabeth observes, eyebrows climbing higher and higher up her forehead with every passing second “Damn. Survived so much only to literally die because a cute boy kissed his cheek. A true hero’s end.”

Percy, because he is a kind, concerned friend, clears his throat loudly.

“Yo, di Angelo, you alive?”

Nico startles so violently he falls right over. Percy shoves his fist in his mouth to keep from cackling.

“Shut the fuck up,” Nico hisses venomously, scrambling upright. “Both of you, shut the — not a word —”

Percy and Annabeth make the mistake of looking at each other and simply erupt. Percy can’t feel his stomach. His lungs have abandoned ship. He’s glad as hell he’s in the infirmary because he is heaving for breath, tears streaming down his face, entire body convulsing. Nico stands in front of them literally shaking with rage, entire body redder than one of Apollo’s sacred cows, trying and failing to string together a threat that will ease any and all of his suffering. Annabeth screeches, almost falling off the bed as she cackles. Percy cannot even find the strength to catch her, his muscles are so weak.

“I fucking — I hate you! Both of you! You’re dead to me!”

“Your face!” Percy shrieks.

“Percy Jackson, I am going to turn you to fucking dark matter! I despise your very essence! I —” He stomps his foot. “I’m leaving, and I’m going to leave a rotting corpse in your cabin! Screw you!”

“Oh my gods,” Annabeth wheezes, digging her nails into his arm. “Oh my gods, that was —”

Percy wipes a tear from his eye. “I love being alive. I love being alive so much.”

“It really is great.” Composing herself, and biting back the leftover giggles that keep bubbling out, Annabeth looks back towards Will. He stands much straighter, now, smile back to full brightness. His siblings, too, look rejuvenated, snickering to each other and making kissy faces behind Will’s back. “So many beautiful things to witness. I’ve never seen his face go that red.”

Percy sighs. “This is genuinely going to carry me through the semester. I think his soul died a little. And Will just — gods, that kid is bold.”

“Oh says you, Mr. Do I Get A Good Luck Kiss.”

“Hey, I earned that.”

Annabeth grins, punching him in the shoulder. He grabs her wrist and tugs her towards him, chasing the curve of her smile. She laughs into his mouth and it taste like strawberries and freedom, and he presses a kiss to her cheek, to her jaw, and the side of her neck, resting there, breathing against her skin. After a moment her hands come up and slide in his hair, gently untangling the knotted mess.

“He is one thousand percent going to put a zombie in your bed, you know,” she says after a moment.

Percy snorts. “Yeah, I know.” He smiles. “Worth it.”

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Face Your Fears

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: You get into a fight with your brothers, but your recklessness that follows creates problems for everyone.

“You were hunting before you were my age! I don’t get why—“

“It doesn’t matter if you get it or not! I said no!”

Sam rushed to the library when he heard his siblings’ voices raised in argument.

“What’s going on in here?” He asked, trying to keep a calm and neutral tone.

“She—“ Dean started, but you cut him off.

“Dean is being completely unfair!”

“Ok, ok, calm down,” Sam sighed.

“Calm down?! You two are off all the time, actually helping people, putting your lives on the line, and I’m—“

“Exactly! You don’t need to be putting yourself in danger like that!” Dean interrupted.

“It’s what you do! And I sit here and read books!”

“Don’t downplay what you do,” Sam said. “We need you here.”

“But I could do so much more out there with you!” You argued. “I’ve been training, I know I can help!”

“Yeah, or you’d screw it up and get killed, and I don’t need your blood on my hands!” Dean exploded.

The silence that followed was deafening.

“Dean—“ Sam tried to speak up, but you interrupted him.

“So that’s it, really? You think I’m some kind of screw up?” You scoffed, and continued before Dean could speak. “It’s not like you’re perfect! You’ve screwed up the world before, and no one’s stopped you from going out to screw it up again!”

“Y/N—“ again Sam’s attempt to calm the situation was met with resistance.

“Well fine then, if I’m too much of a screw up for you, then I’ll get out of your way!” You shoved past your brothers and beelined for your room, slamming the door behind you.

…

Your brothers didn’t try to go after you. They were probably angry. You knew you went too far with what you said to Dean, but he called you a screw up; were you just supposed to take that and not say anything back?

It didn’t matter either way. You didn’t want them to try to talk to you, because you had something to do.

You had a hunt to go on.

You’d been researching one before you went to ask Dean about joining the next one; since he’d said no, you would take this one whether he liked it or not. And you were going alone.

…

It wasn’t hard to sneak out—back when you lived in motels, it would have been almost impossible to leave without one of your brothers waking up, but with the bunker it was easy.

You didn’t take the Impala—that would be too far, even for this rebellious streak. Instead, you took a cab to the next town over; you had struck gold, finding a hunt so close. It was pretty simple, too; three victims with hearts ripped out, definitely a werewolf. You had more silver bullets than you’d need packed up with a couple of guns in a duffel at your feet.

Dean was wrong about you, you could do this. After all, how hard could one little werewolf be?

…

Dean was right, and you were suffering the consequences of being wrong.

You struggled to pull your phone from your pocket, your fingers fumbling as your phone slipped around in your blood-soaked hands. Your breathing was labored, and every breath brought stabs of pain to your slashed-up abdomen.

You hadn’t noticed the signs of the second werewolf, so determined were you on taking the first one down. You hadn’t even seen him until he’d been right on you, ripping into your stomach. You’d had your gun in your hand, and by some miracle you’d managed to fire off a round into the werewolf on top of you, but not before he’d injured you pretty bad.

You finally got the phone in your hand, and you didn’t hesitate to press Dean’s number. You held the phone just slightly away from your face, wary of irritation the cuts on your cheek.

The phone barely had time to ring before Dean’s voice flooded your senses.

“Where are you?” His voice came out in a growl.

“D-De…” you hadn’t realized you were crying until you had to push your voice out past your tears.

“Sweetheart?” Dean’s anger was gone in a second when he heard your pained voice. “What’s going on?”

“I’m-I’m sorry, De,” you sobbed. “You were right, I’m-I’m sorry.”

“Shh shh, hey,” Dean soothed. “It’s alright sweetheart, I forgive you. Just tell me where you are and I’ll come get you.”

“I-I turned on my phone’s location,” you said. “Ple-please hurry. It hurts…”

Dean tried to ask you more, but a bang from somewhere nearby had you flinching, and the phone slipped out of your soaked hands and shattered on the concrete floor. You realized it was only your own gun, slipping off the table you’d laid it on. But it was too late; your phone was broken, and you had no way to call Dean back.

You could only hope that the tracker would still work.

…

Dean broke both the law and probably some speed records getting to your location. Sam was in the passenger seat, a first aid kit in his lap as he held on for dear life.

“I should’ve known she’d do something stupid,” Dean grunted.

“Dean, you couldn’t have known,” Sam reasoned. “And blaming yourself isn’t going to help her.”

Dean didn’t speak, and the rest of the ride was tensely silent.

“Here,” Sam said as navigator. “Turn left here, and she should be close by.”

Dean swerved the Impala to the left and screeched to a halt in an empty parking lot near a warehouse. Sam was right at his heels as he burst into the warehouse.

“De?” Your pained voice echoed throughout the building, so that it took Dean a moment to find you. When he did, he swore his heart skipped three beats. You were sitting in a pool of your own blood, propped up against the wall. Dean rushed to you, kneeling next to you and almost slipping in your blood.

“Hey, hey,” his voice was a mixture of soothing and panic as he brushed your blood-stained hair away from your face. “Alright sweetheart, tell Doctor Dean where it hurts.”

It was a pathetic joke, but you laughed anyway; Dean’s jokes always made you laugh.

But your laugh sent you to a fit of coughing. Dean winced as he examined the long gashes on your stomach.

“Ok, you’re ok,” Dean leaned back in relief when he saw that it wasn’t too deep; you’d be ok. “But I’m gonna have to carry you to the car, ok? Brace yourself.”

You gritted your teeth and clenched your fists, but you still couldn’t hold back the cry of pain when Dean lifted you into his arms.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Dean cringed. “I’m sorry. You’re gonna be ok.”

Dean laid you on your back in the backseat of the Impala, before taking the first aid kit from Sam and retrieving a needle and thread.

“Can’t we just bandage it up?” You whimpered, already squirming away from the needle. Dean’s finger froze for a second before he shook his head, his features softening. Both brothers were very aware of your fear of needles, but sometimes it couldn’t be helped.

“Sorry sweetheart, it’s gotta be stitched. Just close your eyes, it’ll feel worse if you watch.”

You closed your eyes, trusting your brother completely. However, before he could make the first stitch, your eyes popped open and you grabbed into his wrist.

“Wait,” you said. “I-I…I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Dean sighed. “I’m sorry too. I said some things that…that I didn’t mean. You aren’t a screw up, ok?”

“What do you call this?” You gestured to your own banged up body.

“Inexperience,” Dean answered. “And you never should’ve been out here alone. Going solo on your first hunt is never a good idea.”

“I’m sorry about that, too,” you mumbled.

“It’s ok, kiddo. Maybe later we…we can talk about you tagging along on one of our hunts.”

“Really?” You grinned.

“Later,” Dean said sternly. “After you’re all better. Now let me get to this.”

As Dean lifted the needle, you closed your eyes again. You felt Sam’s large hand grab onto yours, and you squeezed his hand gratefully, holding on as Dean started to stitch you up.

“I didn’t really think you would screw up the hunts,” Dean said as he worked. “I just…I don’t want you out there. It’s dangerous, and I…I’m scared something will happen to you. But I guess I can’t keep you from it if it’s what you really want.”

“It is,” you said. “I want to do what you guys do. I want to help people, and I wanna be with you guys.”

“Ok then,” Dean said, tying off the stitches and patting your side to let you know he was done. You opened your eyes, and he smiled at you.

“I guess I’ll just have to face my fears.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl

[byechristopher]

fuck'em all, but us.

– CHRIS STURNIOLO ANGST.

Author's note: Hello, little angels. I have been gone for months, but I've been wanting to write something for a while now. Excuse me for the hiatus. However, I still can not promise that I'll be consistent from now on – but i love you still. Do not copy/steal my work. :)

Warnings: HELLA LONG. This is almost 3.000 words, sweet Jesus. As usual, if you know me, I like writing about dark, angsty shit. Nothing too bad, but you know, mention of fights, blood, smoking, etc.

I caught Chris staring at me again, that same cold, unreadable expression on his face. He had a cigarette between his fingers, as usual. His eyes were like ice, and whenever they landed on me, I felt a chill run down my spine. He never says anything — just watches, arms crossed, jaw clenched, as if I’ve done something to offend him without even knowing it. I don’t understand what I did to make him look at me that way, like he’s barely holding back some hidden resentment. And yet, every time I catch him watching, I can’t help but wonder what he’s really thinking.

I’ve seen him with a few other people. He’s not exactly warm with them either, but there’s something different when he talks to them, a sort of casual ease. With me, it’s like he’s built up walls — high, thick ones, and I’m just standing outside, banging on the gates. And every now and then, I think I catch a glimpse of something behind them, something vulnerable and unexpected, but it’s gone before I can be sure.

Chris was my older brother's closest friend, and he has been ever since they were little kids. No one ever got as close to him as my brother did. Whereas when it came to me, he was rather cold; I never understood why.

My thoughts were roughly interrupted by my brother's hand, which took a strand of my hair and pulled on it to annoy me.

"Ow, you fucking asshole!"

"Hey, wake the fuck up. I said me and Chris are leaving." I rolled my eyes and looked at Chris one more time, seeing that he still had that same look on his face.

Deciding to ignore it one more time, "yeah, bye. God." I said and grabbed the remote to switch on the TV.

I didn’t want to watch anything in particular; I’d just rather avoid looking at my brother’s best friend once again.

"Where the hell are you?"

A notification popped up and before I read the sender's name, I already knew it was Fred. My ex.

Of course, I ignored it, but deep down, I knew he was losing it. Ever since we broke up, he’s been acting stranger and stranger — showing up at places he knows I’ll be, sending messages that alternate between apologies and accusations. It’s like he can’t decide if he wants me back or wants to make me regret ever knowing him. I kept telling myself he’d get over it eventually, that he just needed time. But lately, his behavior had me on edge, and I began wondering if he’d ever really let go.

I’d never go back to him; that’s something I’m certain of. He crossed too many lines, left too many scars I can’t forget. But now, it’s like he’s everywhere—lurking just out of sight, always one step behind me. I feel his presence even when he’s not there, a constant, heavy reminder that he’s still watching, still obsessing.

I’ve started checking over my shoulder more often, catching myself dreading the sound of my phone vibrating with yet another message from him. I tell myself it’s just paranoia, that he’s all talk and no real threat. But some small part of me can’t shake the fear that this time, he might actually be out of control.

And I was right to be cautious. Because he finally crossed the line I’d been hoping he’d stay behind. When I got home, my stomach twisted as I saw it; my car, with its tires slashed and a deep scratch running along the side. It was unmistakably his work; I’d ignored his messages, blocked his number, and now he was trying to force my attention.

My hands shook as I took in the damage, a mix of anger and dread flooding through me. How could he stoop this low? He knew that car was everything to me, the one thing I’d saved for and bought on my own. The memories of late nights spent driving to clear my head, the freedom it gave me — he’d tainted all of it in a single, desperate act. I wanted to scream, to call him and let him know just how furious I was. But I knew that’s exactly what he wanted.

He wanted a reaction, wanted me to feel trapped and afraid, wanted to pull me back into his twisted little game. But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Instead, I took a deep breath, locked my jaw, and stared at my car.

"What.. the fuck is that?" My brother's voice echoed in my ears and I turned around to see that he was with Chris.

"Fred. Fucking Fred." I screamed, not able to contain my anger.

"That bastard.. I will fucking kill him." He said and got closer to the car to see the damage, "calm down" was what Chris said to him.

Chris looked shocked and angry, he walked towards me, "this motherfucker lives nearby?"

"Yeah… just a few blocks away." I sat down on the ground, pulling my legs to my chest and hugging them tightly. I looked up at Chris, my voice trembling, "that was my fucking car..." a tear slipped down my cheek, and in that moment, I couldn’t tell if it was from anger or sadness.

Chris clenched his jaw, and I felt a rush of warmth as his hand reached down to cup my cheek. His touch was soft, gentle, and completely disarming. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had held me like that, with such tenderness. He looked down at me with a promising expression, his eyes filled with determination. “I’ll see what I can do about your car. I might have a friend who can fix it.”

His thumb brushed softly against my skin, and I felt a flutter in my stomach, a strange mix of comfort and something deeper. The way he touched me sent a shiver down my spine, pulling me out of my anger for just a moment. In such a chaotic moment, I couldn’t help but think it was nice seeing him like this for once. I stayed silent and leaned into his hand, seeking that warmth, desperate for a distraction from the whirlwind of emotions coursing through me.

I was rather quiet the following days – I didn't want to go out of the house much. Not because this asshole scared me with what he did, but because that car meant a lot to me. Me and my brother lived by ourselves, and that car was the only thing I could call my own. Fred would pay and I'd make sure of that.

I was alone in my room getting ready for work, trying to drown out the chaos of the previous days when I heard the front door slam shut. My heart raced with curiosity and unease. Just as I was about to head downstairs, my brother’s voice boomed through the house, cutting through the silence, “what the hell happened to you?”

I sprang to my feet, instinctively rushing toward the sound of the voices. As I reached the living room, I froze at the sight before me. Chris was leaning against the wall, blood dripping from a cut on his eyebrow and cheek, and staining his shirt. My brother stood in front of him, fists clenched, a mixture of concern and fury etched across his face.

“Chris, what the actual fuck!” my brother exclaimed, his voice a mix of anger and worry. Chris turned his gaze toward me, and in that moment, everything else faded. Despite the blood and bruises, there was a softness in his eyes that held me captive, a silent plea that made my heart race.

“I’m fine,” Chris replied, though his voice was strained. He shifted slightly, not even a single emotion of fear, or pain, nothing. If anything, he had a pleased expression on his face, I could almost make out a smile. My brother continued to glare at him, demanding answers, but Chris seemed unwilling to give them to him.

“What happened?” I asked, stepping closer, my heart pounding. Chris’s gaze flickered back to my brother, and for a brief moment, I felt a wave of unease wash over me. I could sense that whatever had happened involved more than just a simple altercation, and the tension in the air was thick with unspoken words.

"Nothing happened. I just shouldn't have gone to Mike's. There was another fight and I got involved." My brother seemed to know what he was talking about, because his whole body language changed, softened.

"I told you, asshole. You should never go to Mike's. This bar is a shithole." He went off to the kitchen, probably going to grab something to clean the blood.

I walked closer to Chris, my sweaty fingers digging into my leather bag. I reached out hesitantly, my fingers trembling as I brushed against his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin contrasted by the coolness of the blood that trickled down from the cut above his eyebrow.

“Chris,” I whispered, my voice barely above a breath, my heart racing. “Does it hurt a lot?” My fingertips lingered on his skin, tracing the line of the wound as if I could somehow erase the pain with my touch. His eyes locked onto mine, a storm of emotions swirling within them — vulnerability, frustration, and a glimmer of something deeper that sent shivers down my spine.

He winced slightly at my touch but didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned into my hand, a subtle gesture that felt almost intimate in the tense air between us.

“Not much.” he said, his voice low and rough, but it was the way he looked at me that stole my breath. There was a rawness in his gaze, as if he was baring a part of himself that he’d kept hidden, and in that moment, everything else faded away.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, my thumb brushing lightly over his jawline, searching his eyes for reassurance. The moment felt suspended in time, a fragile bubble where nothing else mattered but the two of us. His expression softened, and I could see the flicker of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite the pain.

“I will be,” he replied, his gaze steady and unwavering, filled with a mixture of gratitude and something that felt like longing. It was as if, in that brief exchange, we shared an unspoken promise — a connection that transcended the chaos around us. My heart raced, and for the first time since the chaos began, I felt a sense of calm in the storm.

Having to go to work and leave him like this pained me, but I had to go, "I have to go to work.." I explained.

"Mhm. D'you want me to take you to work?" He said and I sighed.

"No. Of course not. Stay here, with my brother. I'll see you.. later." I nodded my head and said goodbye one last time before leaving.

The night air was cool against my skin as I walked home from work, each step feeling heavier than the last. The streetlights cast a faint glow on the pavement, illuminating the shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly in the darkness. My thoughts were consumed by what had happened — I couldn’t shake the image of him standing there, bloodied yet resilient, leaning into my touch.

My heart raced at the memory, but alongside it was a gnawing concern. What kind of trouble had he gotten himself into? It was like him to end up in trouble, but I'd never actually see him like this.

As I approached my apartment, a sudden impulse gripped me. I didn’t want to go home and drown in my thoughts; I wanted to see Chris again. I needed to know he was okay, to check on him in a way that felt more personal than just a casual conversation. With each step toward his place, a mix of anxiety and anticipation bubbled within me.

I turned the corner, the familiar path leading me to his apartment building. The windows were dimly lit, casting a warm glow that made me feel a little lighter despite the weight of everything else. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I was overstepping or if he’d even want to see me after everything that had happened. But the thought of him alone, nursing his wounds and possibly replaying the day in his mind, pushed me forward.

I climbed the stairs, my heart pounding louder with each step. When I reached his door, I raised my hand and knocked softly, the sound echoing in the silence of the hallway. What if he wasn’t ready to see me? But as I waited, I couldn’t help but hope that he’d open the door, that he’d let me in — not just to his apartment, but to whatever was going on in his life.

"What.. are you doing here?" He furrowed his eyebrows, a little band-aid covering the wound on his eyebrow now, a cigarette between his lips.

"Sorry, Chris.. I couldn't.. stop thinking about you. I mean.. what happened to you.. today." I was nervous, I couldn't quite understand why.

He cleared his throat and stepped aside to let me in, and of course, I wasted no time. I sat down on his couch and he sat down beside me. So many years of knowing him, and I've never actually been inside his house, so I took a quick look around, trying to take in everything I could.

"I'm fine. I told you." He insisted and sipped from his beer that was on the coffee table, his cigarette nearly done now.

"Your cheek is swollen, you didn't even bother putting some ice on it. Geez." I huffed and got up to go to the kitchen, opening the freezer and wrapping some ice cubes in a towel.

I walked back to him and sat closer to him, cupping his cheek and gently pressing the ice on his other cheek. Only then did I realise how close we were, I could feel his breath fanning over my lips, his dark blue eyes staring into mine.

"My fiend. Zack. He will help you with the car." He whispered and I whispered back, "thank you.. so much."

The sight of him so vulnerable, the blood still seeping from the cut and the way he tried to mask the pain, made something deep within me stir. I forgot about everything else — the fight, the worry, the uncertainty of where we stood. All I could focus on was him and the way he looked at me, those fierce eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and something more that made my pulse quicken.

I could see the way he held back a flinch, how he tried to remain stoic despite the pain. I felt the heat rising in my cheeks, a flush of desire that surprised me. I wanted to kiss him, to close the distance between us and erase the hurt with something softer, something intimate.

As I leaned closer, his gaze flickered to mine, and in that moment, everything else faded away.

“Chris,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, as I hesitated just inches from his face. I could sense that he was just as caught up in the moment as I was, his eyes darkening with something that mirrored my own feelings.

Then, before I could overthink it, I closed the distance between us, pressing my lips against his. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if we were both afraid of what this moment meant. But as I felt him respond, his hand gently cupping my neck, deepening the kiss, I knew I had crossed a line that I never wanted to return from.

The kiss was hungry, needy. I needed to catch my breath. As we pulled away for a breath, my heart raced, and I felt a rush of conflicting emotions, “this is so wrong..” I whispered, my forehead resting against his.

“I know,” Chris replied, his voice thick with desire. He searched my eyes, a mix of guilt and longing swirling between us, "I cant stop now.”

“I shouldn’t be here,” I breathed, feeling the warmth of his body so close. Yet I leaned in again, capturing his lips with mine once more.

He pulled back slightly, looking conflicted, “what if your brother finds out?”

“I don’t.. care right now,” I admitted, my hands threading through his hair as I kissed him again, the heat of the moment overwhelming any reservations I had, “I just want to be here with you.”

“I shouldn’t want this,” he murmured against my lips, his breath mingling with mine, “but I do.”

“Me too,” I confessed, pulling him closer, lost in the moment, “I can’t stop.”

“Then don’t,” he whispered, his eyes darkening with intensity, “don't think about anything else.”

With that, we dove back into the kiss, the world outside fading as we lost ourselves in each other.

As I left Chris's apartment that night, a rush of exhilaration filled me, and I realised that the unexpected had happened; my ex hadn’t reached out at all since the incident with the car. And for the first time in weeks, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders.

A few days later, while I was passing by my brother's room, I heard him talking on the phone. Curiosity piqued, I paused outside the door, trying to listen in.

“I can’t believe you did that, man,” my brother said, his tone a mix of disbelief and admiration, “how did you even find his place?”

“This bitch peed his pants when he saw me.” Chris replied, his voice low but amused, “it wasn't that hard, just had to ask around.”

Something shifted inside of me, realizing that Chris had taken matters into his own hands.

“You know, you didn’t have to do that, I was planning on destroying his car instead", my brother said.

“But I wanted to,” Chris replied firmly, and I could hear him chuckle at what my brother said next.

I stepped back, my heart racing. So, it was Chris who had put an end to my ex’s harassment. I couldn’t help but smile, feeling a warmth spread through me. I knew then that my feelings for Chris were deeper than I had allowed myself to acknowledge, and knowing he had my back made me feel safer than ever.

I found myself running back to his apartment again, right then and there, running up the stairs of his building as if someone was chasing me. I knocked on the door, loud enough for him to open it quickly, worry written in his eyes.

"What–"

And this time I didn't let him finish. With tears in my eyes, I pressed my lips against his and lost myself in his arms.

⠀

⠀

⠀

[2knightt]

CANT HOLD IT IN ANY LONGER!!! i’m utterly obsessed with the curtis brothers.

idk if u do this, but if u can, the curtis brothers with a reader who’s super down bad for them? they make it so clear, too. constantly doing everything for them, making food, buying snacks, just utterly everything. compliments, holding their hand religiously … yk.

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ you know i’m a fool for you. ⋄ 𓍯

…IN WHICH! you think the curtis brothers are the only men on the planet.

tags/warnings: swearing(on my end/once during dialogue.) reader being slightly overprotective or insane, mentions of reader getting hit on, mentions of reader leaving lip stick stains, me not knowing what to write for darry.

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ i’m using ny other accounts layout bc i can’t be bothered rn. also i’m here to feed y’all i’ve noticed the outsiders x reader tag is lowkey dry asl.

Ponyboy Curtis:

WOAH HE CAN’T HANDLE ALLAT😭

like actually. he is TWEAKING AT ALL TIMES! when you first like started complimenting him, showering him in kisses, giggling n’ shit—he thought it was a one time thing.

ponyboy just thought he’d have to thug that shit out once a week or something. he was, in-fact, pleasantly surprised when you continued to do it.

“you’re so-mwah-cute! i wish-mwah-i could-mwah-hold you forever!”

“y/n…😣”

he’s so flustered omfg like actually he’s beet red LMFAOOO. if you were to put your fingers to his forehead it’d be so hot. like ponyboy’s avoiding eye contact, his lips are tightened, etc.

if he were to stay the night at your place—you make him all types of food. like, food he’d never heard of. or food he’d dream about after eating bologna for a week,

“for me? …really?”

“mhm! c’mon, don’t let it get cold now.”

ponyboy is DIGGING RIGHT THE FUCK IN. okay he is SCARFING THAT DOWN. after he’d be a little embarrassed of how quickly he ate but like you just took it as a good thing.

thinks you’re the best cook ever tbh. gordan ramsey has nothing on you type levels.

going on a walk with him to go grocery shopping for the curtis house with your hands intertwined and letting ponyboy ramble about this annoying substitute he had!!! IT’S REAL!!! ALL OF IT!!!

“n’ then he tried to tell me my answer was wrong when i studied last night—I EVEN ASKED MY FRIENDS. so, i know it was right. i just think mr. johnson had a personal vendetta against me.”

“smh…i could do slash his tires if you’d like♡!”

“what”

“nothing.”

AWHHH PONYBOY FOLLOWING YOU AROUND THE STORE LIKE A LOST PUPPY BECAUSE HE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT TO BUY LMFAO

he’d like holding your sleeve or the hem of your shirt as you walk around, looking more awkward above all else.

uwahh showering ponyboy in compliments late at night when it’s just the two of you, twirling his hair as you hold him closer!!!

“you’re hair is so pretty. it’s so soft…i dunno why you put grease in it. if i was you—i’d never let anyone touch it.”

“i don’t. i only let you.”

“…REALLY??🥰🥰😚😚”

ur friends are soooo sick of you talking about ponyboy LMFAOOOO like actually. every time you go, ‘omfg did i tell you guys, he-‘ they know to just let you mindlessly ramble.

“and then ponyboy read to me ‘til i fell asleep! he’s so sweet—i dunno how he’s real!”

“i dunno how you’re so whipped.”

“he must be the funniest motherfucker on the planet if y/n’s this obsessed.”

Sodapop Curtis

OHHH Y’ALL ARE AT A CONSTANT WAR TO SEE WHO’S GONNA BEAT THE OTHER AT BEING THE BETTER PARTNER LMFAOOO

HE’S usually the whipped one in the relationship…he felt both extremely lucky and threatened when you started attacking him with kisses…

“you’re so handsome. i’m just the luckiest person on earth—ain’t i?”

“…yeah…🤨”

“why’d you say it like that?😞”

“cause I’M the luckiest person on the earth…I’M supposed to be tellin’ you this…”

but as time goes on—he does take the loss and accepts you’re better at him. for now. it’s only a matter of seconds until sodapop thinks of something insane to show his love for you.

anyways! IMAGINE COOKING WITH HIM OHHHH NY GODDDDD /?:&$:&: he just mainly stands there and looks pretty as he asks what you’re doing but SHHH. HE’S MORAL SUPPORT.

“…what?”

“i’m chopping onions for the flavour, honey.”

“you don’t like onions, though?”

“i don’t like the crunch rather than the flavou—YOU REMEMBERED I DON’T LIKE ONIONS??☹️☹️”

“of course i would!”

gladly holds ur hand 24/7. i’m not kidding. you two are like super magnets. HEHEHE IMAGINE HIM DRIVING WITH ONE HAND ON THE WHEEL AND HIS OTHER HAND HOLDING YOURS!!/!2!

you do take him grocery shopping. only sometimes, though. he only buys junk food rather than actual food.

“can i get these? please?”

“you already have two bags of chips in the cart, soda.”

“okay..😣”

“SIGH…get them.”

“HURRAY!”

knows you can’t say no to him and that’s like the only time he uses it to his advantage.

soc’s do hit on you under the premise of ‘showing you how a real man is supposed to spoil a lady like you.’ HOWEVER, you look at them like they’re aliens.

“hey, baby. what’re you doin’ around here?”

“…EW.”

“???”

they’re shocked above all else as they see you turn away from them and quickly walk away without looking back. AND WOOO SODA IS SO PROUD.

Darry Curtis

the gang acts like you two are constantly fighting whenever you start to look at darry with that sparkle in your eyes.

“guys, PLEASE! YOU’RE BREAKING UP THE FAMILY! STOP ARGUING!”

“what the hell are you on about, soda?”

“you’re scaring pony!” “don’t bring me into this.”

“mind you’re own business, soda.”

AJDIEHJR DARRY HAVING A HAND AROUND YOUR WAIST AS YOU MUTTER SWEET NOTHINGS BETWEEN KISSINGS>>>

you two are a POWER COUPLE IN THE GROCERY STORE! EVEN IF YOU REFUSE TO LET HIM PAY AND HE GETS POUTTY! EVEN IF HE DOESN’T TAKE COMPLIMENTS WELL!

“y/n, please. these are for my house.”

“so?? my wallet was out first.”

“that doesn’t mean anything. baby, i’m telling you, i’m paying.”

“too late, i already handed the cashier the money.”

you cook and clean for the curtis’ to take something off of darry’s back out of the kindness in your heart and totally not because you want him to pay more attention to you!! NEVER!!

but you do enjoy the fact that darry has more time to sit down and pay attention to you! and darry really likes the extra time he has!!

“you didn’t have to.”

“yes i did! you’ve been so stressed out, it’s the least i could do for you.”

“you’re such a treat, y’know.”

“mh. only f’you.”

you FORCE him to hold your hand. sometimes he forgets that he’s supposed to hold your hand in public so do NOT BE AFRAID TO GRAB IT YOURSELF.

but once you do, darry is the last person to let go. maybe to wrap an arm around your hip—BUT THAT’S IT.

teehee leaving lipstick stains on his white t-shirt accidentally🫶🫶!! it’s all so real to me!! sure, darry’s a little annoyed but it’s okay! he can never be mad at you!

[samwinchesterism]

in re: “cas knows dean better than sam”

“cas sees dean as a whole person and sam just sees dean’s façade as his big brother slash parent” but like how and where. outside of your fanfiction. season and episode. scene and line. if it’s so obvious and apparent you should have at least 3-5 concrete examples right? “sam doesn’t know dean carried him out of the burning house” yeah but did cas? outside of a footnote in the angelic manila folder they gave him between seasons 3 and 4 so he could better manipulate him and sam into doing heaven’s bidding? like if you’re going to say “cas knows dean better than sam” than you need to show how cas succeeds where you perceive sam to be failing at the very least. but even your perceptions of how sam doesn’t measure up are so warped, blinkered, and moronic that it wouldn’t even be worth much if you could provide the textual evidence, but at least you’d have a semblance of a point. like say anything without going “as an eldest daughter…” “well my relationship with my sibling isn’t…” please say anything without fucking projecting your own self-pitying crybaby bullshit onto your little woobie dean and using the actual canon text of the show. I’m literally begging you.

like the thing of it all is and always has been that you’re so hell-bent on twisting the sam and dean relationship to fit into this narrow and almost entirely inaccurate mold which is the basis upon which you build the entire Destiel Mythos that you literally lose all sense of media literacy. you don’t even miss the forest for the trees, you miss the trees for like, the pretend invisible things you’re seeing in between the trees, the forest is a whole long way away from your current level of perception. because the Destiel Mythos is based entirely on the fact that dean is Not Seen and Not Appreciated and Not Loved and Cannot Be Himself until cas comes along, and that Family (read: sam) Is Only A Burden on Him That He Must Be Freed From In Order to Flourish, so you keep trying to warp the sam relationship into something that is only one dimension of it – and keep ignoring the ways in which dean is seen, loved and understood within it, because you need to keep lying to yourselves that there is a narrative need to emancipate dean from something that he has never wanted emancipation from because it is ultimately a net good for dean in the particular circumstances of their lives. it’s also profoundly unhealthy, codependent, evil and toxic etc. (a lot more dean’s fault than sam’s but I will nawt be getting into all that right now) but that doesn’t change the fact that sam and dean both know and understand and feel deeply that they are each other’s person – that they know the best and love the most in the world. but that – which IS true canon fact – is incompatible with the Destiel Mythos so it must be ignored and all good sense must be thrown out the window in order to do it.

anyway i digress there are two main categories of Bad Thinking that i will be addressing below

childhood/ “parent/child” / blah blah blah

every single thing people are saying in favour of the deeply stupid thesis in the title of this post is proof positive of the very silly form of ‘analysis’ I just described. a few things:

“wah sam didn’t know that dean carried him out of the burning house :( this means that dean withholds things from sam to protect him because he is a PARENT and sam can only know things about him in the context of him being a PARENT to him” – what the fuck are you on about genuinely. first of all reducing the sam/dean relationship exclusively to parent/child is in itself foolishness for so many reasons that I don’t have time for right now. but also, it’s clear that this is just something that happened when sam was a baby that just never came up. in the scene (1.09) where this is brought up, dean is mildly surprised that he or john never mentioned that detail and then states that sam knows the rest of the story (i.e. the actual traumatic stuff) just as well as dean does – which is true, demonstrably whenever they talk about it.

obviously there are some things that happened to dean in their childhood that sam doesn’t know about (or didn’t know about, until told in whatever episode they come up in). equally, there are things dean doesn’t know about sam’s childhood, e.g. the fact that he was so lonely he needed a zanna (11.08). or how dean didn’t remember that sam was friends with barry cook until he mentions it when they go back to their old school (4.13). or about the nature of sam’s relationship with amy pond (7.03). these don’t mean that ‘sam withheld these things to protect dean out of parental love’ lol, it’s just that there are details and events in each of their lives that the other happens to not have been told about.

similarly “sam didn’t even know dean wanted to be a firefighter L” girl did dean know sam wanted to be a lawyer? in 1.01 he’s pretty surprised that sam has a law school interview. the point here isn’t “neither sam nor dean know each other well,” these are minutiae that aren’t relevant to how well you know someone as a whole, and very poorly demonstrate the bad and inaccurate point that dean withholds things from sam the way a parent does a child (on a constant or regular basis). obviously the way they were raised, sam was deemed too young to know about certain things until he got older and dean had to keep that secret, but as shown in 3.08 flashbacks, most if not all of this is eventually revealed throughout their childhood when sam is still fairly young.

or possibly the dumbest one is that “wah sam doesn’t even know that dean reads books L” whenever that was he was also obviously joking because in more serious moments (e.g. 8.14) he admits that dean is smart/a better researcher than he is, literally remembers dean reading to him as a kid (8.21) so like. clam down  

one of the extra annoying variants of this type of ‘proof’ covers things that are very clearly novel pieces of information about dean that dean, sam, and the audience are learning about dean in real time. like if you’re actually watching the show to comprehend it as it was intended to be comprehended, instead of funnelling everything through the Destiel Machine until it’s unrecognizable slop that fits neatly into your pre-ordained molds that Make Destiel Necessary In the Narrative (when it actually isn’t, at all) it’s abundantly clear. the top two worst offenders:

“sam didn’t even know that dean is good with kids :( he doesn’t even realize that dean raised him :(” first of all you people need to understand that parentification does not literally create a parent-child dynamic between siblings but I digress – this doesn’t make any sense bro. in 1.03 dean admits he doesn’t know any kids as an adult. dean being good with his own kid brother when they were both kids is to any reasonable person not necessarily linked with him being good with other random kids when he’s an adult. in 1.03 it’s clear that dean himself is a bit surprised that he’s able to connect w/ lucas so well because he’s clearly not dealt with a lot of kids since sam grew up. the whole point of this is that dean, sam, and the audience are all sort of seeing a new side of dean. who again is just 26. after this very early episode, there’s no question from sam that dean is able to connect w kids. sam being a bit surprised by this also has absolutely zero connection with him not understanding or realizing that dean looked out for him when they were both kids – sam is standing there at 22 years of age talking about adult dean and children – of fucking course he doesn’t mean himself are you stupid.

from the very first season, sam is very clearly aware of everything dean ~did for him~ when they were kids, see e.g. 1.21: “Dean...ah...I wanna thank you. […] For everything. You've always had my back you know? Even when I couldn't count on anyone I could always count on you. And I don't know, I just wanted to let you know, just in case.”

and 1.06: DEAN: Well, I’m a freak, too. I’m right there with ya, all the way. (SAM laughs.) SAM: Yeah, I know you are.

and then possibly even more stupidly, the one where it’s like “wah sam doesn’t even know dean can cook :( he doesn’t even know that DEAN was the one making him food as a babe in arms :(” – when sam is surprised that dean made something fairly gourmet and from scratch literally the first time they have ever had a permanent living space with a functional kitchen. in this VERY scene (8.14), dean himself points out that they haven’t had a kitchen before and when sam remarks on the irregularity of him doing serious cooking, he says “I’m nesting”, clearly showing that this is a novel development because they now have a kitchen, and that it’s irregular relative to past behaviour – both of them acknowledge this. because real proper in-depth cooking and making box mac and cheese for sam until he was like 11 and old enough to be left alone are two different things, which sam understands because he’s smart, unlike whoever chooses to make this point. dean never showed significant signs of liking to cook before this, which is what the exchange is about, but he did have to prepare food for them both when sam was too young – of course sam knows he had to, there are childhood memories referred to (e.g. 14.11) where sam is mentioned to literally help dean do the cooking as kids lol (and yes, genius, sam says ‘I didn’t know you knew what a kitchen was’ or something to that effect, but if you think he’s being 100% literal there I have an oceanfront property in Kansas to sell you)

again, obviously there are pieces that sam doesn’t know about dean, e.g. when he’s talking about his response to mary dying in 1.03. but again, Sam is 22, dean is 26, the last time they were in regular contact was when sam was 18-20, these are things that happen when people grow up, they’re able to reflect and share on childhood experiences if they’re close with their siblings as adults. it’s clearly not something that 26 y/o dean wanted to hide from 22 y/o sam. yes sam didn’t know everything about how dean felt when they were young, but that’s equally true in the other direction, and it’s such an irrelevant point in this discussion when, crucially, sam does learn these things about dean mostly fairly early on in the series (i.e. when they’re really not that deep into adulthood yet). cas was also not magically blessed w/ knowledge about dean, he also had to learn whatever it is that he knows, but somehow sam has to know everything about dean from age 7 or it doesn’t count when it’s sam lol.

“sam doesn’t know the One True Dean / doesn’t see through his facades”

the next branch of defending this flawed thesis is invariably that sam has little idea of the fronts and facades that dean puts up and is content to just believe them, whereas cas digs deep and sees the One True Dean that stupid sam always misses. there is nothing in the text that demonstrates this is true. multiple times, we see sam being very knowing of the fact that dean puts up fronts and facades. sam is also knowledgeable of the way dean perceives himself, and – demonstrated in multiple episodes before such sam lines were very poorly recycled and regurgitated into cas’s dialogue in 15.18, but keep acting like that was the first time anyone ever showed that they knew the One True Dean.

Obviously there are times where sam teases dean when he’s being more touchy-feely than usual, but 9.99 times out of 10 (as a conservative estimate in case there's something i'm forgetting otherwise i would say every time) that’s very clearly coming from a place of knowing the real dean vs. the façade he puts up because that’s the whole joke. and it’s allowed to be a joke because they’re siblings and that’s what siblings do lol. esp since sam and dean have touchy feely moments at the end of like every episode.

examples of all of the above off the top of my head (there are more than these, but these are the ones I can think of):

2.02 (about John’s death)

Sam: “I mean this ‘strong silent’ thing of yours, it's crap. […] I'm over it. This isn't just anyone we're talking about, this is Dad. I know how you felt about the man.”

Dean: “You know what, back off, all right? Just because I'm not caring and sharing like you want me to.”

Sam: “No, no, no, that's not what this is about, Dean. I don't care how you deal with this. But you have to deal with it, man. Listen, I'm your brother, all right? I just want to make sure you're okay.”

2.03 (Sam to Dean, also about John’s death): “You know, you slap on this big fake smile but I can see right through it. Because I know how you feel, Dean. Dad's dead. And he left a hole, and it hurts so bad you can't take it, but you can't just fill up that hole with whoever you want to. It's an insult to his memory.”

Note that Dean essentially admits that Sam is right in these two instances in 2.04 bc I know yall have stupid shit to say about john too that has nothing to do with how anyone actually felt about him in canon

3.07 (about Dean’s demon deal – also proven true in later episodes)

SAM: Dude, drop the attitude, Dean. Quit turning everything into a punch line. And you know something else? Stop trying to act like you're not afraid.

DEAN: I'm not!

SAM: You're lying. And you may as well drop it 'cause I can see right through you.

DEAN: You got no idea what you're talking about.

SAM: Yeah, I do. You're scared, Dean. You're scared because your year is running out, and you're still going to Hell, and you're freaked.

DEAN: And how do you know that?

SAM: Because I know you! […] Yeah, I've been following you around my entire life! I mean, I've been looking up to you since I was four, Dean. Studying you, trying to be just like my big brother. So yeah, I know you. Better than anyone else in the entire world. And this is exactly how you act when you're terrified. And, I mean, I can't blame you. It's just […] I wish you would drop the show and be my brother again. 'Cause... (can't find words; tears in his eyes) just 'cause.

5.18 [Sam figures out what Dean is doing re: his plan to let Michael possess him, tracks him down, and eventually is the catalyst for Dean ‘making the right call’, which he predicts] – e.g.:

SAM: No, you won’t. When push shoves, you’ll make the right call

DEAN: You know, if tables were turned…I’d let you rot in here. Hell, I have let you rot in here.

SAM: Yeah, well…I guess I’m not that smart.

DEAN: I—I don’t get it. Sam, why are you doing this?

SAM: Because… you’re still my big brother.

8.14 (basically the o.g. version of whatever went on in 15.18 + sam intrinsically understanding the trials are a death wish for dean): “I'm closing the gates. It's a suicide mission for you. I want to slam hell shut, too, okay? But I want to survive it. I want to live, and so should you. You have friends up here, family. I mean, hell, you even got your own room now. You were right, okay? I see light at the end of this tunnel. And I'm sorry you don't – I am. But it's there. And if you come with me, I can take you to it. […] I AM smart, and so are you. You're not a grunt, Dean. You're a genius – when it comes to lore, to – you're the best damn hunter I have ever seen – better than me, better than dad. I believe in you, Dean. So, please – please believe in me, too.”

10.22 (understanding how much dean has ~done for him~)

SAM: I'm saving my brother.

CASTIEL: You told Dean—

SAM: —I know what I told Dean. Cas, look. I've been the one out there, messed up and scared. And alone. And Dean—

CASTIEL: He did whatever he could to save you.

SAM: Yes. I mean, it's become his thing. I owe him this. I owe him everything.

10.23 (basically the o.g. version of whatever went on in 15.18, x2 – from Sam to Dean): “You were also willing to summon death to make sure you could never do any more harm. You summoned me because you knew I would do anything to protect you. That's not evil, Dean. That's not an evil man. That is a good man crying to be heard, searching for... some other way. […] You will never, ever hear me say that you -- the real you -- is anything but good.”

11.13 (Sam understanding exactly how Dean feels about Amara being his ‘deepest desire’, and confirming that it doesn’t make him a bad person)

Dean: Why? Because if she is that means that I’m…

Sam: Means you’re what? Complicit? Weak? Evil?

Dean: For starters, yeah.

Sam: Dean. Do you honestly think you ever had a choice in the matter? She’s the sister of God, and for some reason she picked you and that sucks, but if you think I’m gonna blame you or judge you…I’m not.

Dean: You know that I want her ass dead.

Sam: Yes. Of course. And I know you’ve also probably beaten yourself up a hundred times over it, but where has that gotten us? (Long silence) Just how bad is it?

13.02 (Sam perfectly explaining Dean’s psyche to Jack)

JACK: Is that why Dean hates me?

SAM: Dean doesn’t hate you. It… Look, sometimes the wires in Dean’s head get crossed and—and he gets frustrated, and then he mixes frustration with anger, and—and fear.

JACK: Why would he be afraid?

SAM: Because Dean feels like it’s his job to protect everyone. And right now, we need to protect you. But we may also need to protect people from you.

14.03 [Sam assesses Dean’s psychological/emotional response to the Michael possession; end of episode, Dean confirms that Sam’s assessment was fully accurate]

14.10 [Sam is the only one able to snap Dean out of his weird Michael mind loop by using their code word]

14.11 [Sam figuring out that something is troubling Dean just based on the fact that Dean hugs him]

15.17 (self explanatory at this point)

DEAN: Chuck has to die. He has to! Otherwise he'll keep us tap dancing forever, and I can't live like that, man! I can't live like that! I won't!

SAM: I know you feel like that right now, okay. I know you do. But you gotta trust me. My entire life, you've protected me— from Dad, from Lucifer, from everything. I didn't always like it, you know, but... it's the one thing in the whole world that I could always count on. It's the only thing I've ever known that was true. So please... put the gun away. Just put it away, and we'll figure it out, Dean, we'll find another way, you and me. We always do.

like maybe there are some cas moments w dean along these lines too. i don't know, i don't remember what the guy says or does anymore it's been too many years and he is not memorable. but the point is where and in what capacity and based on what metric other than the amount of bad fanfic you've read does cas exceed sam in these respects.

so basically just. genuinely, what are you people literally ever talking about. go watch the show instead of saying stupid wrong stuff about sam on the hellsites all day. or watch another show (please for the love of god watch any other show this one is absolutely lost on you and it’s such a stupid one too i'm embarrassed for you)

[holylulusworld]

Bad Santa (2) – Two brothers

Summary: You’re an evildoer. This year, Santa is going to punish you. His evil twin brother has other plans.

Pairing: Santa!Ari Levinson x Naughty Lister!Reader x JackFrost!Steve Rogers

Warnings: naughty lister reader, mentions of being naughty/evil, implied attended cheating, punishment, kinda kidnapping, strict Ari, mentions of ice play/mild ice play (barely)

A/N: For my story, Jack Frost is Santa’s twin brother.

Bad Santa Masterlist

Catch up here: Bad Santa (1) – Level 6 Naughty Lister

“You’ll sit in that corner, thinking about all the sins you committed to reach the top of my list. When I come back, we will talk about a few rules,” Santa (Ari) growls at you.

You’re rather unimpressed by his demands. Crossing your arms over your chest, you push your tits up. Santa’s (Ari) eyes drop to your cleavage for a second. It happened so fast you’re not sure if he did look at your tits.

“I won’t tell you again, Naughty Lister!” He yells now. His voice booms through the room, making it shake. You only giggle.

Men yelled at you before. Mostly after you demanded more than their dick.

“Aw, that’s cute,” you snicker. “Do you honestly believe I buy this whole Santa shit? I bet that uptight bitch hired you to keep me away from her husband’s dick.” You snort at his angry expression. “Now, let me go. I lost interest in his dick. I get bored easily if I must put so much effort into getting dick.”

“Y/N Y/L/N!” He growls and grabs your upper arms. Santa (Ari) shakes you, only to earn another giggle.

“Do it harder, Santa,” you purr and lick your lips. “You know, this Santa outfit slowly gets me wet. If you put me over your lap, I’m all yours. Maybe you even got a nice thick rod for me.”

“What is wrong with you? Can you not think about dick for a moment? I am Santa Claus, St. Nicholas, the one and only, not some random man you can seduce! No one will fall for your trap here!”

“No one.” You smirk when his brother sneaks into the room. Jack Frost slash Steve looks a little more laid-back. “What a pity.” You fake a deep sigh. “I love me some good dick. Especially when it comes with a handsome face.”

“I—” Santa (Ari) groans and pushes you away from him. He starts pacing the room while thinking about a way to bring you back on the nice list. A naughty lister like you cannot defeat his faith in people or his festive mood.

“Allow me, brother,” Jack (Steve) says as his eyes roam your body hungrily. He’s bored most of the year. Santa rarely brings naughty listers here. He still prefers to punish the kids by not bringing them gifts. You, on the other hand, are a naughty woman ready to ride his aching cock. “You know, I’m a master at taming brats and naughty listers.”

Santa (Ari) clears his throat. You cannot know his brother can barely keep his needs under control. “No,” he simply says. “This one is on top of the naughty list. I don’t think you’ll be able to handle her.”

“I think he’ll handle me very well.” You nod at yourself as your eyes drift toward Jack Frost (Steve), Santa’s naughty brother. From the moment you met him, you knew he was a naughty one. “Those big hands are perfect for spanking my ass if I refuse to listen to him.”

Jack (Steve) can’t wait to get you alone. He only needs to trick his brother, the man who always knows what people think. “Brother, I’ve got this. Let me handle her.”

“I said no!” Santa (Ari) yells again. The walls shake, and you wonder if your boss’s wife paid extra for the special effects.

You smirk. If she keeps you away from her husband’s dick, you’ll take two for the price of one.

“How about you both try to handle me? Oh, Santa Baby,” you purr Santa’s name, “I’ll be an awful good girl if you give me that grand-prime dick you’re hiding in your pants.”

“Jack (Steve)!” Santa says, “Get her out of here before I lose control and throw her into the deepest and darkest hole I can find. I’m done with naughty listers for today.” At that, Santa (Ari) storms out of the room, leaving you to his brother.

“Damn, he’s a very good actor,” you hum to yourself. “I wonder how much that bitch paid you two. Did I see you somewhere else? Do you do commercials and stuff?” You wonder aloud while Jack (Steve) watches you with amusement. “What?”

“Doll, you still didn’t get that this is real, huh? My brother is Santa Claus, and I’m Jack Frost. We’re not fantasy figures! You’re not in Kansas anymore, that’s for sure. My brother won’t let you leave the North Pole as long as you act like a cat in heat yearning for dick.”

You wrinkle your forehead. Can this be real, or did you hit your head?

No, Santa Claus cannot be real. You didn’t believe in him since you were a kid. He let you down more than once.

“You’re slowly starting to believe us,” Jack (Steve) muses. “Why the sad face all of a sudden?” He searches your face. Unlike his brother, Jack cannot read your mind, or rather what’s in your heart.

Shaking your head, you try to push the disappointment and hurting away. Every Christmas, you have been waiting patiently for Santa to bring you a gift. The one you’ve been praying for all year.

It didn’t matter that you had been an awful good girl. He never came.

“She’s in the room for naughty listers now. I don’t know what happened, but she suddenly got sad and refused to talk to me,” Jack (Steve) tells his brother about the latest development.

“Why?” Santa (Ari) asks.

“Why what?” Jack (Steve) replies.

“Why did she get sad all of a sudden?” Searching his brother’s face, Santa (Ari) frowns. “Jack (Steve), what did you do? I want you to tell me exactly what you said to her.”

“I told her that this wasn’t a trick or a show. She had to understand that you’re Santa Claus, the real one. I told her that you won’t let her leave the North Pole if she doesn’t regret her sins.”

“Did she believe you?” Santa (Ari) asks. He watches his brother, furrowing his brows. “No lies, Jack (Steve). You know that I know if you are lying to me.”

“Brother,” Jack (Steve) sighs, “I don’t know if she believed me. I had the feeling she remembered something from her past and got sad. You’re the expert when it comes to reading minds and feelings. Do not ask me to do your job! Maybe you fucked shit up in the past!”

Jack (Steve) storms out of the room. He’s just done having the role of the bad guy all the damn time.

“What will you do if I’m a bad girl?” Back to your usual cocky self, you watch Jack (Steve) return. “Spank me? Bite me? Lick me?”

“I’ll freeze you,” he replies and taps your nose. You shudder because the tip of his finger turned blue. It’s ice-cold, but you don’t mind. “Any part of you.”

“How about you put that ice-cold finger to better use?” You lick your lips. “Did you ever use it for ice play?” You chuckle at his shocked expression. “Aw, don’t tell me Santa’s brother never got his finger inside a warm and wet pussy.”

Grabbing his hand, you guide it between your legs, pressing his cold finger against your panties. “You better not let Santa know.” His hand turns cold, and you whimper. The new sensation already has you on the edge.

“Say, are you like Elsa and can create a castle out of ice and a nice dress?” you purr and roll your hips. “Do you love to sing Let It Go, too?”

Part 3

Tags in reblog.

[crowhoonter]

rating Parahumans guys on how well I think they'd be as parents

Brian: I think Brian would believe he is a great father, but there is too much repressed emotions and depression in there to properly care for and raise a child. 3/10, Not particularly good.

Alec: Alec has lacked a real positive parental unit in his life, and while I don't think he would purposefully be shitty to a kid, I think he might fall back on what he knows from his own youth. Might be a fun older brother though. 3/10, needs to focus on himself first

Danny Hebert: Too sad about his wife dying to properly parent. no further notes. 2/10, Danny please get it together Taylor is relying on you

Armsmaster: Would rub off his worst personality traits onto a kid, resulting in them being the average r/malelivingspace user. Might also encourage child to grow poor facial hair. 1/10, I feel bad for whatever unfortunate soul is consigned to this fate.

Coil: Coil would be an absent father for 90% of your childhood, unless you were useful for his plans. In that case, he would feed you drugs or some other unethical thing and make you work for him (child labor (bad)). 2/10, conditions are poor but you might get to meet some of the other children he has, fixing the playdate situation.

Kaiser: See in story results. -5/10 Nazis don't make good parents.

Uber and Leet: They come as a package deal obviously, and they are actually pretty okay parents, they aren't great obviously but they aren't tremendous failures either. That is until you show up on one of their livestreams and then you are the laughingstock of the school. 4/10 Don't upload your kids online.

Scion: Too sad about his wife dying to properly parent. Also not emotionally available. 1/10, get it together man people are relying on you.

Mark Dallon: Not necessarily a bad parent, but he has a laundry list of problems that he needs to work through before he can begin to think to focus on his kids. 3/10, he's trying by god. He's not doing good but he's trying.

Number Man: He would probably respond to any question his kid asks with some weird philosophical math metaphor. Is a killer cook though. Also math classes would be a breeze. Unfortunately, most of his time is dedicated to cauldron. 5/10, grades will be great.

Accord: The worst type of helicopter parent. He would make itineraries to follow any time his kid went out and would require them home in pristine condition super early. Has a rigorous study schedule and puts a lot of pressure on you to succeed, and you know he wants whats best for you but like its stifling and you aren't really living for you but for him. Sure grades are good but you just can't do it anymore. 4/10, the depression and GPA are soaring.

Jack Slash: As seen in Worm, he is an absolutely killer parent. Has a fun family vibe? check. Engages with his children's interest and allows them to pursue it? check. Keeps his child intellectually and creatively stimulated? check. Takes his family all over the country to see new exciting places and people? check. Dude is simply top tier on the parenting skill. Sure the family dynamic is a bit unorthodox, but when the results look this good can you really argue? 10/10 Jack Slash has got it going on.

[onyourowndaisymae]

obey me dateables (+ luke) playing minecraft with you

this came to me last night like a prophecy from the god of silly geese

prompt: you've somehow convinced these guys to play minecraft, a human world game, one night, just the two of you. but how exactly does that experience go?

[brothers version]

{established relationship, obey me x reader (minus luke, who is platonic ofc)}

Diavolo

oh you-- oh you thought the future king of the devildom was going to be a fearsome warrior slashing down hordes of monsters coming to attack the two of you? or a masterful builder constructing a wonderous homestead for you two to retreat to at night?

nah, this man is a certified flower picker.

diavolo basically uses this as an excuse to play domestic family simulator with you. he's at his happiest when he's picking flowers and planting them around your shared house (you've got to share a house with this man or he'll give you the most pitiful expression) or decorating to any other extent, like carpets or paintings or lights. he just loves making your little home together!

he's also just as willing to do anything you request of him. you need him to mine for cobblestone? he's your guy! need someone to fish for you? right away, mc! you have to show him exactly how to complete said task, but once you do, he's happy to help.

definitely puts your beds together and gives you a dumb, happy grin. the characters are as close as the two of you now! speaking of which, do you have any plans? will you spend the night at the castle? he can push back his morning meeting tomorrow if you promise you'll stay.

he's just so happy to spend time with you. your shared little cottage and virtual world are just another artifact of your relationship. maybe some day the two of you can have a domestic setup like this in real life, too.

Barbatos

this man is good at everything he does. obviously, he's going to pick up the controls and mechanics surprisingly fast. you'd think he'd made the game himself with the ease he gets around.

your shared house is beautiful. he actually originally made two separate houses, one for each of you. but when you looked confused and told him you assumed you'd live together, he immediately gets to work on a bigger, prettier house for you to share. the only thing that gives him away is that pleased little twitch of the corner of his mouth as he resists a smile.

with as good as he is at the game, barbatos isn't super keen on what is actually "good" and what is just normal game stuff. he finds diamonds within 15 minutes of his first trip into a cave and, when you applaud his efforts, he turns to you and very plainly asks "is that... good?"

everything he finds goes in a communal chest at your shared home. you tell him he doesn't have to do that, but he insists-- it's in his nature. he doesn't tell you that every little comment you make when you spot new, valuable resources in the chest makes his chest warm. always happy to serve, this one.

monster killing machine. nothing will hurt you in this game. they can't even get close enough-- barbatos is always there, at your tail, protecting you from stray arrows or sneaky creepers trying to get you.

Simeon

oh, you're taking on the challenge of trying to teach him how to play a video game? good luck. kiss your sanity goodbye now.

he is terrible with the controls. simeon fares a little better with a controller because it's made for gaming only. god help you both if you're on a computer. wasd? never heard of her.

despite his piss poor technology skills, he's surprisingly pleased with the way this is all going. he feels a little bad that you have to babysit him in-game but appreciates your attention nonetheless. any mistake is met with a sweet laugh-- what a good sport.

he finds your patience endearing, and vows internally to get better at this game so that you'll want to play it more often. he's already plotting to rope solomon and luke into helping him improve.

and just like any good softie, he's terrible at in-game combat. he dies so many times. he doesn't really understand what's happening when he starts getting attacked. most of the time, the creature will hit him from behind, so he literally thinks he's dying for no reason. you have to explain to him that he's gotta-- simeon just turn around, you're-- dead. he's dead already.

his strengths in lie much more simple pursuits. give this man a farm to tend and he'll be perfectly content being a cute little malewife house husband. he secretly gathers the ingredients for a cake and surprises you with one after you return home from collecting wood to expand your house. he's beaming next to you in real life; who wouldn't kiss all over that cute face of his?

Solomon

speaking of old ass men-- this man is a menace in your minecraft world.

he gets the controls pretty quickly. pros: you don't have to spend much time teaching him how to play. cons: he is confident enough in his survival abilities to just... disappear. what's that mc? you wanted to build a house together? too late. he's fighting against three endermen deep in a mine an entire biome away.

you're going to have to do a lot of the communal work yourself. build the house, gather resources, find a reliable source of food and materials-- solomon will stroll right in and steal them from your chest. if he's feeling generous, he'll leave behind the rare resources he got his hands on during his journeys. which is nice, of course, but he still stole three whole stacks of wood planks like a jackass and took off before you noticed.

you end up making it to the nether together. he says he'll protect you, and for the most part that is true. however, sometimes he's preoccupied and you get attacked while he's not looking. if you die, he'll laugh at you (yet still save your stuff and give it back when you return). if you survive, then it's onwards into the depths of hell!

when he gets bored, he starts terrorizing you. this is as basic as moving things around the house to as obnoxious as blocking you in with dirt or wood and covering you up as you try to escape. he thinks this is hilarious, by the way. but he knows you, and his antics cease before you actually get pissed off.

Luke

luke tries very, very hard to be good at this game. he gets a A for effort... and a C- for skill.

somehow, someway, he falls into every. hole. imaginable. you'd almost think they're spawning in front of him with how frequently this happens. you're playing rescue now... and again... and again... and he did it once again. he also gets lost very easily, so it's best to keep him with you at all times.

you guys decide to share a little house together and it's very cute. you've got your own separate rooms, then a kitchen and living room to share. he is very insistent that it has to look like a real house, with a real kitchen and everything. humor him and help him out-- he'll reward you by always making sure you have food.

every activity in this game is now a group activity. safety in numbers, he says, in the middle of the day with no monsters in sight. it doesn't really matter anyways. he'll follow you wherever you go. he'll even enter that super scary cave you're in so he doesn't have to face the monsters alone.

luke is very scared of being attacked by any mob in the game. he's specifically built his room on the second floor of your house so they can't get him. if he is somehow face to face with a monster, then he's yelling, incoherent as all hell, panic-building a dirt protection chamber around himself (he won't actually kill them because he feels too bad). if you're within reach, then he'll cover you too. if not, good luck with that monster! he will root for you, obviously, but you're delusional if you think he's going out there to help you.

[so-sures-blog]

Teenage Mercenary Headcanons

(Most of these are of Dayeon Yu because she's my fave character, but the Numbers are thrown in, too!)

☆☆☆

— Dayeon absolutely knows Ijin's secret, but she isn't confronting him because she wants him to trust her and come forward himself. Dayeon is sweet, not oblivious.

Who do you think sews the clothes whenever he gets slashed? Washed out the blood? Takes out the trash that has all his bloody bandages? She's literally seen him try to stab someone's eye out with a chopstick. Fight against experienced killers when she was kidnapped with Yeona. It only takes a quick google search to find out Dushik Cha is the biggest gangster in Seoul, Korea — and Ijin has him on speed dial. When the Congressman and his childrens' crimes broke the news, you think Dayeon didn't see it — didn't notice that with all the videos posted on the internet, only hers wasn't shown?

Ijin got a job at SW, the most prestigious company in the entire world, as a bodyguard. You have to have an extreme amount of fighting talent and skill to be able to become a bodyguard there, even as a part-timer. Normally, that would take months, years to be accepted. Nobody knew how he was scouted, not even the higher-ups. Which would mean Ijin was personally hired and got the job through connections with the CEO of SW.

The point is that Ijin is the most unsubtle person on the planet, and Dayeon is ready.

— The Numbers have tattoos! After they got initiated, they all got tattoos of their numbers. It serves as a reminder that they belong to The Camp and have no identity beyond that.

— I feel like Dayeon would be really into psychology. Being bullied by Huijin for years, I think that Dayeon would pick up behavioral cues from her as a coping mechanism. She is very observant, so I imagine she psychoanalyzes those around her to determine whether or not they are good people. I also see her use her psychology skills to translate into being a detective for learning about Ijin and the Numbers. I can picture her basically backing the Numbers into a corner and forcing them to talk about their feelings. She has a lot of impromptu therapy sessions.

— Ijin and Dayeon go to a rich kid school but live in a bad neighborhood. Yeona Sin, granddaughter of the SW CEO, goes to their school, and so did the Congressman's children, so it has to be a rich kid school. I headcannon that Grandpa Yu worked hard to send Dayeon to a good school, so that's why she goes there even though they don't have money. Also, they live in a bad neighborhood because how else would Ijin beat up high-school assholes and live within motorcycle-riding distance from Dushik Cha, Seoul's #1 gangster?

— The Numbers speak multiple languages! Being sent on multiple assignments in different continents, I feel like they would pick up different languages in order to blend in.

— Dayeon is good with first aid! It's not through want, but when she was being bullied, she had to patch up her own injuries by herself, so she became well practiced in it. And, when she was younger and first learning how to cook, she kept on getting cuts on her hands from the knife. But she didn't want her grandpa to worry and send her to the hospital for stitches, so she learned to do it herself! 

(Inspired by my mother, who cut herself with a knife and promptly sewed herself up with a needle and thread with no tears or medical experience whatsoever.)

She helps heal her brother's injuries. She's not as good at stitches as Ijin is, but she insists she has to when he comes home with injuries, and it's the thought that counts, right? Also, she took it upon herself to learn CPR for her grandpa when she was really young in case he had a heart attack from his weak heart ;(

— Dayeon steals her brother's jackets and wears them around. At first, it was merely coincidence — her just grabbing the first thing when she's in a rush — but soon it becomes a habit to reach for Ijin's jacket instead of her own. They're comfy and oversized, and she loves it. Her favorite is the grey one with white armbands Ijin often wears. Ijin doesn't mind. Her wearing his jackets actually protects her more even when he is not around. He goes out and takes care of high school jerks often so that they start to recognize the clothing he beat them up in.

High-School Gangster: (sees Dayeon walking home alone innocently) Ooh, cute girl!

Gang: (goes up to harass her before pausing when they see her jacket.) Wait ...

(Recognizing Ijin's jacket, paling, and realizing that he with absolutely fuck them up if they mess with his little sister.)

Gang: (jumping the guy who pointed out Dayeon, beating him up.) You piece of shit! Don't you drag us into your goddamn death wish!

Ijin traumatized all the gangs in the area, and it's beautiful.

— Ijin and Dayeon have dimples! At first, it was only Dayeon because I researched and found dimples represent a sign of beauty and cheerfulness in many cultures, which I thought suited her perfectly. But then I wanted Ijin and Dayeon to have something in common due to resemblance, and the dimples appeared. Also, I wanted the Numbers to have that extra wow factor when they see Ijin's smile and realize he has dimples.

— Grian is a melting pot filled with orphaned children of all ethnicities. I imagined that missionaries from all countries came to Grian to try and "fix it up" before having children with the locals. Maybe the parents were killed, or they abandoned them, but the point is that most of the children there grew up orphaned before they were inducted into military camps.

— Besides Ijin and 032, all of the other Numbers are in their mid-to-late twenties. Think about it — it's been 10 years since the plane crash, and they were all teenagers when they were in the Camp. And none of them look especially older or younger.

— Ijin takes after his parents in looks. He has his mom's hair and his dad's face. You can tell he was their son just by looking at him. That's why Grandpa Yu was so emotional when Ijin came back. It was like seeing his son and daughter-in-law come alive again within his grandson. But Dayeon?

Dayeon looks exactly like her grandma, so much that sometimes it literally hurts Grandpa Yu to look at her. It almost seems like a cruel twist of fate — to leave him with the little girl that looked exactly like his wife to raise when he should've been left with Ijin, so Grandpa can still have some part of his son and daughter-in-law with him (Dayeon internalized these thoughts when she was younger).

— Dayeon knows how to do makeup! Again, this was mostly out of necessity — she had to learn how to cover up the bruises when she was being bullied. The bullies were smart enough to not go for her face, but sometimes when she fought back she'd catch a blow across the cheek — hence, she was forced to learn how to cover it up with makeup and over the years has perfected the art of hiding bruises. Sometimes, when Ijin comes home with bruises, she drags him to her room and helps him cover it up with makeup.

— Ijin and Dayeon actually have a lot of similarities and neither of them realize it. They have the same habits and quirks, and subconsciously hold the same fears of revealing their past traumas. It's honestly a bit ironic and hilarious, seeing as physically Ijin and Dayeon look nothing alike for siblings. For example, Ijin works out and goes on runs when something is weighing on his mind while Dayeon paces the floor until it is practically worn and tries to busy herself with chores.

It always makes Dayeon petulant when one of her friends or the Numbers point it out because she knows firsthand how frustrating her brother can be.

— When Yeona gets drunk she has the habit of buying an excessive amount of things for her friends. Dayeon's cold? Watch her buy a full set of expensive winter gear for her. The guys are feeling hungry? She'll clear out the entire convenience store. She has zero recollection of what she bought the next day and Hyeokjin and Jaehyeong find it hysterical when they see all of the absurd, random things she's bought. The whole group makes fun of how much money she wracked up in a single night. Seokju always has to take away her wallet beforehand whenever they go out.

— After the whole kidnapping arc with Dayeon and Yeona, Seokju took it upon himself to teach the girls some basic self defense. Mostly it's dodging and escaping holds, and they've both gotten pretty good! When they first started out, Ijin would be staring lasers at Seokju on the sidelines whenever he would handle his sister, which he felt he could personally do without. Now, Ijin helps out with the training while Yeongchan, Jaehyeong, and Hyeokjin spectate and cheer. While it irks him, the girls love it and take the opportunity to show off what they've learned.

— Jaehyeong says that he doesn’t know what he wants to be in the future, but secretly he wants to be a race car driver. He loves cars. As soon as this guy gets his hands on a license, he’ll be driving everywhere. Constantly gets pulled over for speeding tickets. If the friend group was ever in an apocalypse, Jaehyeong would be their getaway driver simply because he’s crazy behind the wheel, and can probably pull off all those stunts you see in the movies. His grandpa is the chairman of Gihyeon Motors, so you bet he’ll have access to the best vehicles there is. He’s the guy who’ll pull up to school or a McDonald’s in a sports car just to brag (he’d get it in orange, simply because it’s his signature color and he likes to be obnoxious).

Keeps his dream of being a race car driver private because he doesn’t want his family to take that away from him (which they could). So far, his plan is to complete his military requirement after high school to stall his way from the family business — because unlike Hyeokjin, he hates business — but after that he’s got nothing. However, after seeing Yeongchan pursue a career in streaming, he found he can become much more courageous in voicing his opinion of his future.

— The funniest thing about 004 is that he actually has a resting pretty face but chooses to look like a straight up sewer demon on a regular basis. 005 said once in passing that “004 can actually look good if he just shuts his mouth” and instead of taking it as a challenge of being attractive while talking like a normal person, he chose to twist his facial features into the most horrific expressions possible while spewing nonsense. Still, in the rare moments when he is calm, his face softens and you can properly see the ‘pretty boy’ face he hides behind his ‘bad boy’ exterior.

— 016 is actually a bit of a baker amongst the Numbers. It was a hobby he indulged in recently when he found he had a bit of free time, and it had appealed to him because it required a lot of measurements and techniques that he — as a sniper — appreciated. It was a lot of trial and error for him since he literally had no idea what he was doing but he picked up the skill quickly and soon was making sweets from scratch that the Numbers frequently stole. He found that he doesn’t agree with having too much sugar in his desserts (hard to have much of a sweet tooth growing up in poverty) so he mainly makes desserts without much sugar, like shortbread.

— Ijin loves stargazing. He’s had the habit since he was a kid, constantly looking up since he knew he came from the sky when he was at the Camp. When he was on the run as a mercenary, he often turned to the stars to guide him when he didn’t have a map. When Major Kang found out Ijin liked stars he made sure to buff up on astronomy knowledge so he could teach him about constellations and such (Ijin never really got it which made him sulk). He thinks that something as beautiful as the night sky should simply be admired, not understood. It was the only thing that brought him peace when he was alone. He likes the silent beauty the stars can bring him; he can get lost staring at them for hours. It was a shame when he found out he can’t see them anymore thanks to Seoul’s light pollution, and it was one of the few things he missed when he was back in Grian.

[indieyuugure]

I really really like indie TMNT designs,but it seems there are many scars on Leo and Raph's shells（Especially Leo，omg look his back！）

How did them get these terrible scars？btw Mikey's shell is the most complete，his big brothers must have protected him well（just my guess）

You can also tell me it is a big secret and I have to wait until the story mentions it

I actually intended to say where each scar came from, but I didn’t have enough space on the files 😭 so I’ll tell you guys now.

Leo’s scars are from his fight with the Shredder. I use the “a” and “b” thing on the different models as more like a before and after. Leo got the scar over his eye when he was younger while brawling with Raph and the other scuffs and chips came from training.

The double slashes across his chest, the chunk missing from his carapace and the X scar on his knee are from the Shredder. I can’t reveal exactly what that fight looked like but I think you can use your imagination for now. :\

Raph’s scars are from a variety of different events. Though most of them happened in the past. He had the lightning bolt chips from before he was mutated as a baby, Splinter doesn’t really know where they came from, but supposedly Raph(being so aggressive) had been bought and returned four times before Splinter purchased them, so probably one of his previous owners dropped him after his tried to nibble their finger off.

The various scuffs and chips come from training with his brothers. The scar on his lip was from him and Mikey daring each other to do stupid crap. The one on his leg was from falling off a pipe that had a bolts sticking out of it. He fell off and on the way down ripped open the side of his leg. It wasn’t very deep though, so it looks a lot worse than it is.

The two that came later are the X scars on his cheek and the crack in his carapace. The X was from a foot soldier, and the crack was from taking a Shuragen for Casey. These both happen at the same time as Leo’s scars, during the Invasion.

Donnie has less scars than Leo and Raph, but still has quite a few. The majority of them are very hard to see if not because you can’t. Some of them are the usual scuffs and chips from wrestling, but the other ones that are more like actual scars go along the natural creases in his shell or are under his gear. He got these from the “certain incident” that Raphael and Bishop had words over, aka Raph beat him up and said if you touch my family again, I will torture you to death.

He has a few internal scars as well, mostly in his mind, but also like literally inside him. He broke his arm during the Invasion in a way that damaged the joint, he gets most of it back, but he can’t carry too much weight on it, which, isn’t to bad because he’s ambidextrous, but it still bugs him a lot that his strength isn’t symmetrical anymore.

Mikey, as you noticed, has by far the least scars out of his brothers. He’s got a few scuff and chips from sparing like the rest, though he’s broken his nose several times from falling off his skateboard, crashing into things and miss use of his nunchucks. He also scrapes his knees a lot but refuses to wear knee pads because he says they look “lame.” Mikey has also had several concussions throughout his life from basically all of the above.

His most noticeable scar, of course is the one on his chin that he got fighting a foot soilder who slashed him with a katana. He is very proud of it for some reason, I guess he thinks it looks really hardcore.

Good question! Sorry all this info didn’t fit on the files XD I’ll have to compile it all somehow,(probably in a dox file or something) I’ll figure it out. Lol

[fandomfluffandfuck]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEEEE WRITE SOMETHING WITH TOUCH STARVED WINTER SOLDIER AND MALE HANDLER READER (or stevie, whatever floats ur boat) I AM DESPERATEEEE

I've kind of written something with touch starved, early-deprogramming Bucky and Steve--"Don't Forget To Remember Me"--so, I'll go ahead with the x-reader part of this prompt here!

Mentions of HYDRA cruelty below the cut, nothing exactly "on screen." This is mostly angsty fluff, actually.

You aren't sure when it began because no matter how deeply you scrub your mind for clues, shifting through the heavy rubble of your time with "S.H.I.E.LD" going from a regular recruit to being drug into the ugly underbelly with the grimy cockroaches of HYDRA, there isn't a clear path. Perhaps it started when you were assigned the joke grunt work of waxing the asset's chest (x). Or, maybe, it really started after you had been shown to do a satisfactory enough job at stripping the asset to naked flesh, so then you were assigned to deal with the knots that had developed at the back of the asset's neck. Told to rip a wide tooth comb through its mane as the thought occurred to you that, huh, it felt a lot like when you used to have to do this for your younger sisters after a summer of wild, young shenanigans. Hollering at the top of your lungs late into the hot evenings. Swimming for hours in pools and lakes and any bodies of water you could get yourselves to, almost always with wrinkled fingertips, baths or oceans or anything just to feel the cool lapping water. Playing chase, flying out the doors of the house when your parents had finally had enough of bulls in their china shop. Running through fields into forests, racing to climbing trees and hopefully not tumble out of them and end up in a cast (again). Summers with the weather too nice and the sun staying suspended in the sky for hours, so you were too busy for silly things like brushing hair. You were only saved by the fact that your mother insisted on buzzing your hair to the scalp for summers, no need to brush that. Your sisters didn't have the luxury.

It's kind of like those times with your sisters--raking a comb through the soldier's unkept hair.

Once, with late, mature summer bleeding into gestating fall, the colors fading and muddling, you found your sisters hair had become too tangled to undo, so you complained, and your parents had made her get her hair cut. She balled her eyes out after they proclaimed it, stuttering and pleading, her thin chest heaving, just try mooore! The knots got in! They can get out! But no. They couldn't come undone. She would have to deal with it and learn to take care of her hair better or she could have her hair buzzed seasonally like you. (She was not thrilled, even if that was at a time when she looked up to you, her big brother, her hero)

Working harshly through the asset's mane is sort of like that. But not.

Really not.

You are never gentle with the soldier like you were with your baby sisters.

Left with the asset, you were instructed to tear the knots out, be as unkind (or cruel, if you like) as needed. Just get them out of the way. Tear them out. Lather them up and comb through. Buzz them off with clippers. And if the asset acts up, use a knife--it doesn't have to be just on its hair, you can't hurt it that bad, so don't think twice.

So...

Yeah, maybe it started then. Somewhere negligible and nebulous between the waxing of its chest and combing-slash-cutting of its locks.

If it started then, that would make sense, because now, whenever the soldier and you are alone for whatever reason (or nonreason), it crawls into your lap like some kind of desperate, feral raccoon. A creature that's dirty and trembling and, somehow, hungry enough to be entirely reckless, directly approaching the human who owns the trash cans it's rummaging through, trying to find anything to stuff into its mouth of rotten, putrid teeth.

And what are you to do in these times, alone with a lapful of weapon?

Typically, when it happens, the soldier seems too fragile to push away. If it is animated--thawed and moving of it's own volition--the asset is often fresh from a mission where you know it's been run ragged, barely fed, hardly given time to rest. As is protocol. So, it is fragile.

This time in particular, though, it's been so recently wiped you can still smell the sharp bleach and dull undercurrent of electricity wafting off of it, supposedly clean yet faintly fried. Acidic. Almost the smell of lazer hair removal but on steriods. Your lip curls up involuntarily at the stench. You always have a moment of hesitation when it does this. And this time is no exception.

You remind yourself that this will make your future grunt work easier. Right? That's why you accept this strange ritual. Isn't it? It's okay for you to lay your hands on the asset if it's part of your job. You will not be punished for it, nor will the asset. Right? This is just like waxing it's chest, combing it's hair, or adjusting its tac gear. Isn't it?

With it's surprisingly light weight in your lap, you do not viciously grab, digging your nails into it's flesh and scars and metal; nor do you slap or hit or pull, rather you set your hands on it's grimy, sweaty back. More evidence of it's recent wiping alongside it's still trembling muscles. Thick sweat overeating involuntary twitches so sharp it looks painful and unnatural, more like a robot jolting than an organic thing moving. Contortions. Convulsions.

With your hands on it's upper back and shoulder, the soldier makes a sound like metal creaking, bent too far, about to snap, warning the manipulator of the impending give. Shards will fly.

You do not feel threatened.

The asset is bent, nearly broken after it's mission and the maintenance after. It cannot hurt you. You could hurt it easily with its fragility and brittleness. Except, you don't intend to hurt it now or any other time when you are alone together. Instead, you allow the minutes to tick by before heavy footfalls announce the entrance of another cockroach, crawling out to shove the asset back into the freezer before scurrying away.

In your spare change minutes, you bizarrely reward the asset and it's starved raccoon behavior, rubbing the cold coins together, if the noises the soldier makes are anything to go by. Metal on metal. Rubbing. Rusty, almost whines as your hands sweep slowly down it's back, following the line of it's bent out of shape spine all the way down to the top of his tac pants that they've left on it this time.

Under your hands, it is only quivering lines of flesh, muscle, and bone shot through with harder callouses of thick scars and metal. If you go based off feeling alone, you would assume that the asset has already been broken--bent past the natural give sheet metal has to it--with all the shrapnel left in it's body. It has bent, snapped, and shattered. The feeling of the asset, by virtue of how rough and sharply-edged it is, makes your movements turn slower and even more gentle, you couldn't make your hands turn cruel if you tried.

You're nearly massaging the creature now, and you can't help but notice how cold it is as you touch it, rubbing its back, shoulders, and the nape of its neck. Every time this ritual unfurls, you notice. It is strange. Shouldn't a soldier with impeccable healing and speed and strength unfurling run much hotter? It puzzles you, but so do many of the things about the asset and the cockroaches that puppet it, crawling inside it, filling its frame with an infestation. Why does it do anything? You have no room to wonder, though, because why do you do anything they say, anyway? How did you get here? What would your baby sister's think of this? What would the wild, summer-sweetened boy you used to be think of this?

The asset creaks again, bringing you back to this ritual. It's pushing it's spasming back into your hands. You sigh, finding, feeling, a knot deep in the muscle below its metal shoulder. You are unwilling to tenderize the muscle, untangling the knot, because it would hurt. You've had deep tissue massages. They do not feel good. The mission and maintenance of the soldier are fresh in your mind and inhaled through your nostrils, so you can not bring yourself to add to its pain.

The best you can do, not adding pain, is some skin-deep soothing. Nothing more. You cannot change much. In parallel, you and the asset are stuck. What you can do is keep the asset's hair tangle-free, you can opt to shave the asset instead of wax it, and you can give into it's hunger. Sometimes. When it's safe to do so. If the cockroaches have the power to blend the soldier's brain into a slurry of nothing but obedience, they can do the same to you. If the cockroaches can twist and alter the precise balance of homeostasis to a sickly chill with injections that burn so badly inside the asset that it has to be held down, risking broken bones and torn muscles, than they can do anything. Everything.

So, shockingly, it is with a weapon lying across your lap--used against humanity as a precise knife between the ribs, slotting into the heart of men who represent hope and uprising and future--that you relocate your own organic nature. Your compassion. Your morals. Your humanness.

And if you leave the lock to the cage containing the asset for the last few hours before he goes back on ice open... that is been you and the asset you have cradled and held and come to know as organic and human despite the metal forced to be a part of him.

You can only hope the asset seizes the opportunity. A way out. The chance to reclaim the humanity it--he has been stripped of.

[mauvewalker]

You know one thing I’ve noticed being parroted around a lot are about how ‘sweet’ the strong boys are, just repeating what the protagonist Rhaenrya views her sons as she has stated it within the show herself. (Which is fine as people are entitled to their own opinions). I suppose it doesn’t help with the way the team black boys have been casted, younger actors & an actual teen matching the character’s age, looking all cherub/innocent like with the awkward hairstyles emphasises their youthful ages & the framing by show is heavily in the favour of the blacks.

Compare this to the team green boys Aemond and Aegon (both phenomenal actors perfectly cast to portray them) but considering Aemond is supposed to be a teen what 16 or 19? (the show-runners can’t seem to do basic maths, lol) however, as an audience member subconsciously Aemond is viewed as an adult & treated/judged as such with his actions. Again the negative framing by the show of him in manipulating the GA perceptions of the teams, I’m really surprised they didn’t play a villainous theme tune as like with Darth Vader every time he appeared on screen but I think that would have been a-bit too obvious, lmao. It’s not like the camera framework & Aemond’s get up in black, heavy smirking in the background isn’t already doing so.

Anyways having watched the show, I happen to be believe that they are not these sweet harmless little princes, in particular, Jace hides a much darker personality, imo. For instance, in the courtyard back at Kingslanding with Luke he says “it doesn’t matter what they think” so on the surface you could argue oh how sweet he is trying to comfort his brother but shows his self-entitlement in viewing the other lords/people as beneath them & we know Rhaenrya has told him “you are a Targaryen that’s all that matters” so it has been instilled in him this belief in the Targaryen exceptionalism being closer to gods than men because of their dragons. Also, that line mirrors young Rhaenrya with “their wants are of no consequence” about the small folk again showing self-entitlement & an attitude that would make them poor future leaders.

Jace having this belief instilled in him, I feel it would explain why they all picked on Aemond because whilst Aemond may be a legitimate true-born prince who was undeniably a Targaryen with the Valyrian looks, what didn’t he have? A dragon!! so Jace with his inferiority complex/issues & superiority complex combined, knowing he was a bastard targets/bullies Aemond unfairly for this (for being what he should have been if he was fathered by Laenor) to make Aemond feel bad, inferior & inadequate like him, which they were successful in.

As we saw this made Aemond risk his life attempting to claim a dragon with helaena saying “he did it again” (hinting that Aemond at 10-12 risked himself numerous times) and it was shown twice with his failed attempt with dreamfyre & his successful attempt with vhagar. As Rhaenyra has instilled in him being a Targaryen is the most important BS & the biggest symbolism of this is having a dragon. So, when Aemond finally claims a dragon, Jace is now unable to see or convince himself as better than or being more Targaryen than Aemond.

Hence, his anger when they all jumped him 4v1 beating him & when Aemond was managing to defend himself & calls them for what he is “a bastard” Jace’s rage comes out, not because he thought Aemond was going to kill Luke with a rock as he had lowered his hand holding it. It was Aemond saying “lord strong” which made him pull out the knife & slashing with the intent to kill him. Again Aemond managed to defend himself & the knife dropped on the floor, so obviously Aemond lifts the rock up again to use as a deterrent as there is now also a knife bought in the fight. The strong boys shared a glance & threw sand in his face blinding him & Luke slashed his eye.

We all know what happened after, they didn’t get punished for it, viserys sided with them reaffirming his favouritism & threatening to remove tongues for questioning their legitimacy. Rhaenyra didn’t care to discipline them for it, thus, reaffirming their self-entitlement that they are correct in their behaviours & did nothing wrong.

Another example of Jace self-entitlement, inferiority complex & bullying behaviour was during the toast speech. It was Aegon who pissed him off & some with an optimistic view would argue his toast was trying to bury the hatchet with “fond memories of our youth”, however, he was looking at Aemond with a slight smirk knowing full well it may have been fun for him it was not for Aemond- he was targeting him again when it was Aegon who bothered him & Aemond was minding his own business. The reason for this? Because he is comfortable to be looking down/belittling/bullying Aemond.

Again, with the dance with helaena, some would argue how chivalrous of Jace for feeling sorry for Heleana being alone but it was to piss off both Aegon & Aemond. Moving on, with the speech & then Luke laughing at the pig, Aemond loses his temper, rightly so. As all he was trying to do during the dinner was ignore them, both Jace & Luke have triggered him with the past, so he gives the infamous strong speech, to push back & give them a taste of their own medicine.

Jace is the one who then loses his temper & his first typical reaction when he does?? is to be physically violent & throws the first punch & which side does he purposely target?? Aemond’s blind/injured & vulnerable side of his face. The punch was laughable, Aemond didn’t even spill his drink & with one push was thrown down. Exactly like his younger behaviour showing no growth, he get back up & during this altercation, Luke had tried to join to gang up on Aemond again. So both brothers are unable to take the heat that they dish out & fight fairly 1 to 1, but, really what could’ve Luke have really done, lmao.

They should of known when they saw Aemond earlier that day in the courtyard training. At the time, it’s clear both strong boys didn’t know it was him (with the typical targaryen blonde hair they maybe could of mistaken him for Aegon) & were super impressed with his prowess/skill, before he turned around with the eyepatch & their faces said it all, like ‘oh shit’ & then soured that the person who they perceived weaker/beneath them during childhood is a skilled swordsman, unlike them. Another thing that Aemond has/is that the strong boys don’t to add to Jace’s list, alongside having both of a mix of a inferiority complex & superiority complex, a ‘sweet prince’ he is not.

[diodellet]

Top 3 Victims of Getting Whipped by Jamil Viper's Long and Luscious Hair

i wanted to get the gunk from not-writing out before i go back to my pressing wips and i was thinking of how i used to get hit in the face by my friends with long hair…hence these crack hcs. content warnings: -this is crack. this is unserious. (couldn't help myself from hinting at angst. but this entire post is unserious, dw) -unbeta’d, all mistakes are mine. -im okay with this being rb’d and tagged as ship (then in that case this counts as pre-slash if you squint?) word count: 771

3.)  Ace Trappola

Nearly took out his eye, those damn braids.

Okay, maybe he's exaggerating. Just a little bit. Then it’s back to business and completing this Alchemy worksheet early!

(Ace is a bit dramatic in that moment, only if it means that he gets to tick off one of his more put-together upperclassmen)

Maybe that’s on him for trying to put on the eager underclassman act (If only to get Jamil to do the brunt of the work for this joint class)

No, he’s not trying to get on Jamil’s good side. Don’t get it twisted. That guy is unbribable. (So Ace thinks, little does he know he’s going about it the wrong way.)

And while one can say that he’s learned his lesson, it doesn’t stop the occasional accident from happening. 

And, well, it’s just funny to surprise Jamil. Aside from throwing a fake roach onto his gym bag, that gets boring really fast.

(So Ace says, but he likes to milk the 0.5 seconds of concern. He’s a little brother. It’s an easy way to get some attention drama around here.)

2.)  Floyd Leech

Jamil's usually diligent enough to make sure his hair is secured during basketball training. But on a day where Floyd feels like putting in effort…

Well, things get messy. more than the usual amount of chaos that comes with team scrimmages. 

And in Jamil’s quick pivot, one thing leads to another, you know.

More than being hurt, Floyd was: Surprised.

And secondly, he notices: Huh, Jamil's hair smells good.

A normal person would ask what products Jamil uses 

Floyd’s intrusive thoughts, on the other hand, are like, “yo... what if we took a bite though?”

(0.5 seconds elapsed, we are working in bullet time for those last internal thoughts^^)

And it’s very hard to resist a prospect like that when you also throw in the shininess of Jamil's hair ornaments to the mix.

Cue remix of Beansfest: Hounding Jamil Pt. 2 Electric Boogaloo

(On his low energy days, Floyd doesn’t care. On his bad low-energy days, he’ll yank at the offending braid.)

Either way, Jamil already knows to give Floyd a wide berth on default. That’s why he’s relatively low on this list.

Honorable mention to Azul Ashengrotto

Well, it's only happened twice.

But the guy was changed after those incidents. (Epiphany?? Revelation??)

Maybe the first time he got stunned into silence from getting hit was a fluke, but then it happened again.

And once again, total silence.

(Is Azul supposed to feel appalled? Is this blackmail material? How can he spin this into a surefire conversation to rope Jamil into Octavinelle once and for all? *insert bluescreen noises*)

Jamil’s stopped feeling bad about it when the initial embarrassment wears off.

If Azul gets smacked across the face and loses his glasses, that’s on him. Jamil’s speedwalking away from the crime scene, call that plausible deniability.

Unlike certain people on this list, Azul’s conscientious enough to respect Jamil’s physical boundaries

(For the most part. Sometimes Azul gets too into his “Benevolent Housewarden” persona—it’s the untapped Theater Kid Energy in him—that it could happen a third time.)

1.) (Are we even surprised?)

It's Kalim al-Asim!

When they're at class, when they're going to the school store, even at the safety of the dorm.

(Who knew Kalim had the capacity for stealth when he’s not wearing any of his usual jewelry or accessories? Has Jamil been belling him like a cat?)

It has to happen at least once a day, so decrees the law of the universe

Maybe it’s a consequence of Kalim’s lack of personal boundaries.

(Well, after the events of Book 4, I could say something angsty about that but that can be its own post. This is supposed to be a lighthearted crack scenario) 

The worst of it probably had to be during VDC rehearsals. Especially when they were getting the formations down.

Ace has made a tally of each time it has happened, Rook has confirmed the numbers. It cannot be denied any longer, there is Objective Statistical Proof. 

Congratulations, Kalim! Here’s a hastily-made certificate of recognition! (Vil would sermon them for goofing off, but he can indulge in some levity. It’s the night before the performance. It’s better than seeing them nervous.)

Kalim’s confused about the makeshift award, but it’s ok, his default response to 97% of things is good-natured laughter.

Jamil on the other hand is done. He wants to sleep. (But, when you compare it with the stress of their initial rehearsals, this kind of situation doesn’t seem so bad. He’ll never admit that out loud though.)

a/n: anyway happy pride jamil, the guy with the most gender, i wudve wanted to give u a harem but my brain said to torment u at ur expense oops (i've had this wip since april, can u believe? omagah) i wasn't sure how to format a post with multiple characters (oh my god icb this is my first twst post that doesn't feature only jamil 🗿🗿) anyway, i hope this was entertaining a read!💕💕

[slavhew]

murdoc for character opinions

god. murdoc. im admittedly not deep in enough to hard assess my opinions from 2018 vs now, but let's give a quick run through.

i love murdoc. but he's also hard to talk about. so i think its best to jump forward to what i find most compelling about him: it's someone's capacity to grow and change even relatively late in life.

He has a start in life that, speeding over all of THAT, leaves him a very vapid, self centered and cruel person by the time the band becomes a thing. Bit by bit, tooth by pulled tooth, he learns to see things differently.

And this is where that "canon isn't real if i dont look at it"- the continued existence of gorillaz's storyline depends on there being an antagonist, and that is historically Murdoc's role. So a lot of that development will get retconned, glossed over, etc. I don't really blame JH for that anymore, that's just how these things often go with properties that have this kind of extended shelf life.

Murdoc is a person that distills all his hurt into anger, excuses his loneliness as being "by choice" and buries trauma under ego, posturing and hypersexual behavior. But as it is when you form bonds with people, tentative as they might be, they change you. Phase 3 is the climax of this, and phase 6 was both the """final""" relapse of his bad tendencies (post TNN cough) and the end of his arc with The Lost Chord.

THAT ALL BEING SAID, he's silly to me. I count all the material of him being Oddly Polite or giggly as canon whether it's Phil Cornwell breaking character or not.

Murdoc has two faces: one for the paps, and another for the fans. One crude and attention seeking, and a softer more relaxed one for when he ACTUALLY gets to discuss his interests and the music he makes. He plays the media like a fiddle, since having eyes on him is an old skill he's long since mastered.

My possible divergences from fanon at large? I haven't been in touch lately, but I remember some interpretations being popular that I disagree with, so I'll just state my takes:

He's not iredeemable or stupid or remorseless, he grows to care about his bandmates very early on but is VERY slow on the uptake of identifying that affection, and he's much smarter than he lets on. Also no beef to people who ship 2doc but man it is just not my cup of tea. They're coworkers slash fffrriiienndsss?? who needle each other constantly.

AS FOR HEADCANONS: very simple.

A lot of his stunts in the public eye are coordinated- when he said he refuses to get on the stage on other people's terms, this includes the paps. If he's going to be hated, he might as well do that with intention and style

That being said, it's also a self-made excuse to be a debaucherous asshole as well as how he justifies the overindulgence to himself.

Selling his soul had progressive effects on his appearance

green skin, pointy ears, pointier teeth. he used to wear a red contact. he doesn't have to anymore!

the red eyes would be bilateral but in phase 5 the eye injury resulted in anisocoria- bowie-esque. He isn't sure if this is another manifestation of his deal for musical success, or karma.

because of his reduced vision and MULTIPLE stints in prison he is jumpier than ever

he has an unibrow! the fringe hides it because it grows back too fast, and murdoc is vain.

he used to have a fuller face, but as of phase 2 the stardom (drugs, poor self-care) started affecting his appearance. Phase 3 was even more brutal in terms of this. by the time phase 4 rolled around and he got clean, the buccal fat was gone for good, courtesy of plain aging!

short, skinny and not in the healthy way. again, phase 1-2 sees him develop a beer gut under xylophone ribs, phase 3 he's at his worst health-wise. Phase 4 and 6 see him put some real padding on, finally. (5 is a step back due to incarceration)

phase 5 issss fiiiineee... but i prefer respect-false-iconz (aka ezracaution)'s canon divergent exploration of it, The Code

lastly: projection? brother that's the bisexuality, shortness, edginess for show and anger issues. that's just text.

[shisekibo]

[Story Translation] Chapter Eight -  Plan in Motion [Episode Two: Part Four]

↫ previous story | story list | next story ↬

- Bow Squad -

Nac:

“That was the signal to put the plan into motion."

Nac:

“We have to make sure the Intelligent Angel doesn't have the chance to fly away."

Nac:

“Make sure to match the other groups' actions."

Ammon:

“Got it."

Flure:

“Okay...!"

swoosh...

Intelligent Angel:

“Oh? You have bows and arrows too this time."

Intelligent Angel:

“Normally it would take nothing for me to dodge an arrow..."

Intelligent Angel:

“It's not as simple if the one shooting them is a Devil Butler."

swoosh...

Intelligent Angel:

“Phew...! That was close..."

Intelligent Angel:

“They really are quite good with bows."

Intelligent Angel:

“Ugh... How annoying."

flap... flap...

Nac:

“Good! He's moved lower."

Nac:

“Make sure he doesn't fly back up again."

Ammon:

“Understood."

Flure:

“Yes."

- The Front Lines - Capture Squad -

Haures:

“He went that way! Lato, Lamli!"

Lamli:

“Okay!"

Lato:

“Leave it to me."

Intelligent Angel:

“Wow! You two are so fast..."

Lato:

“Hahaha... I can't wait to hear how you scream when we rip off your wings."

slash...!

Intelligent Angel:

“Phew...! That was close..."

flap... flap...

Boschi:

“Don't forget about us!"

slash...!

Intelligent Angel:

“Dear me... There's a lot of you running around."

Lamli:

“Ahahaha! Your back's wide open!"

slash...

flap... flap...

Intelligent Angel:

“So close!"

Lamli:

“Tsk! I almost had him!"

Intelligent Angel:

“You move very unpredictably."

Intelligent Angel:

“There's too many of them. This really is annoying..."

Haures:

“Now...! Take this!"

slash...

Intelligent Angel:

“Goodness... You could at least give me a break!"

flap... flap...

Haures:

“Good...!" (All according to plan.)

Haures:

“Fennesz, Lono! He's heading your way!"

Lono:

“Leave it to us!"

Fennesz:

“Yes!"

Lono and Fennesz opened the net with vigour.

Intelligent Angel:

“Hm? What's that?"

flap... flap...

crash...

Lono:

“Ugh! We got him!"

Fennesz:

“Hold on, Lono!"

Intelligent Angel:

“Ouch... Huh? What's going on?"

Lono:

“Ugh! This is bad..."

Fennesz:

“He's... so strong..."

Boschi:

“He's stopped moving! We have a clear shot! Get his wings, now!"

Haures:

“Go, Boschi!"

Boschi:

“You don't need to tell me! I'm already there!"

slash...

flutter... flutter...

Intelligent Angel:

“Phew...! That was close..."

Intelligent Angel:

“So you're going for my wings?"

Boschi:

“Shit... He dodged it. He broke through the net."

Fennesz:

“It was made of such thick rope too..."

Intelligent Angel:

“Devil Butlers. You're underestimating me if you think a net like that could hold me..."

Haures:

“Shit... It didn't work..."

woosh... splat

Intelligent Angel:

“Ugh...! Ouch..."

Lamli:

“An arrow!"

Fennesz:

“It hit him in the foot?"

Boschi:

“He was too distracted by the net to notice..."

Lato:

“I knew Flure could do it..."

Lato:

“Leave the rest to me, brother."

Lato:

“You can't dodge me now, Mr. Intelligent Angel."

Lato:

“I'll make sure it hurts when I rip off your wings..."

Intelligent Angel:

“This isn't looking too good..."

[schrijverr]

I Didn’t Mean to Say I Do, but I Do. I Do. 20

Chapter 20 out of 50

Secret marriage of convenience buddie slow burn AU, where Buck and Eddie have been married for years so Buck could adopt Chris and no one at the 118 knows.

In this chapter, Hen deals with Eva and Nathaniel, before the 118 gets drugged. Chimney kicks himself for not noticing, but how was he supposed to guess Buck and Eddie crying together wasn’t normal?

On AO3.

Ships: Buddie (slow burn), Madney (pre-slash), Henren

Warnings: internalized homophobia, referenced addiction, non-consensual drug use

~~~

Chapter 20: High on Life (And Substances)

Hen is glad Buck and Eddie are getting along. When Eddie first arrived and Buck puffed up like an offended peacock she had expected the worst testosterone filled tomfoolery until ultimately they would have to let Eddie go, which would have been a shame, since he seemed like an alright guy.

In a way, she hadn’t expected it from Buck, who despite being the epitome of a frat guy, actually has a heart of gold and so much kindness in him. But she guesses his toes felt stepped on and, in the end, it didn’t take much more than one close call for them to work it out.

They work it out so well and quick that Hen nearly gets whiplash, but it’s great for the team as a whole.

Buck needed someone to watch his back and keep him in check and Eddie seems to fit into that role perfectly. With Eddie there, Hen is worrying less about Buck, who is like an annoying little brother to her. She usually can’t watch out for him in the field, since her partner is Chimney and she’s often manning the ambulance instead of the rig. So having Eddie gives her peace of mind.

She also thinks Buck is good for Eddie. He seems uptight. Hen doesn’t mean that in a bad way, but he’s too rigid and very closed off, that can’t be healthy for someone.

None of them had managed to get under his skin or get him to give anything away, but Buck had warmed Eddie enough for him to offer his Abuela’s home to Maddie and to mention he has a son, a detail he had never even hinted at despite working there for two months already.

Hen remembers Eddie’s defeated frame in the parking lot, looking at his blocked car, the relief that coursed through him when Buck offered to drive him to Chris’s school. She also remembers the hug Buck got alongside Bobby after they let Chris crash here until Maddie could pick him up.

Buck has been getting Eddie out of his shell and that’s good. He needs to be coaxed out and he needs people to help him, even if he is as stubborn as his partner. They’re honestly made for each other.

During the Abuela breaking her hip debacle, the two got even closer. They had already known they lived near each other after the earthquake, but now they’re carpooling to work each day and Hen has heard Buck discuss the move with Eddie, having recruited him alongside Chim.

From what she hears, Eddie and Buck are also hanging out outside of work like she does with Athena and Chimney. Buck is pulling Eddie into the fold as Maddie naturally gets pulled closer by her texting with Chim and now her drive along with Athena.

It really feels like they’re going somewhere. Like the bonds between them are growing and their lives are becoming more intertwined.

When out on a picnic with Karen and Micheal along with Denny and Harry, it sounds like Micheal is struggling slightly with Bobby taking up more space. Of course her amazing beautiful wife has words of wisdom for him: “Well, listen, you don’t need to worry. ‘Cause you are those babies’ father, and they know it. And anything they get from him is just extra.”

Hen couldn’t have said it better.

Everyone in the 118 has their own family, she has Karen and Denny, Bobby has Athena and her kids, Chimney has the Lees, Buck has Maddie, and Eddie has Chris and Pepa. But having each other makes it better. It gives them that extra cushioning to fall back on. It’s nice.

And it might be very necessary to have a bigger support system, because Eva is back in their lives again and this time she brought Denny’s father. It’s just like her. To appear like that and cause nothing but trouble and stress. Hen hates what she does to her family, despite the fact that she can never wish her gone, because she gave her Denny. She gave them their son.

But her presence drags up everything again. Everything that Hen only just managed to make right, that she just managed to fix.

She got her family back, she can’t lose that again. She can’t only have the bit extra, she needs the whole. Holding Denny in her arms and promising him that mama’s gonna fix everything only solidifies that for her.

Stalking Eva might not be the best way to do so, but she is desperate and angry. Mostly angry. How dare Eva. How dare she. How dare she come back into her life and hurt her, hurt Karen. How dare she drag Denny into her own pathetic petty bullshit?

Watching her nearly die, nearly walking away from her, but turning back, because saving awful people is what she does, is healing in a way. Just because she knew Eva, doesn’t mean she needs to keep trying to save her. She doesn’t have to do her job off the clock, doesn’t have to drag it into her personal life. There’s a reason she takes off that uniform each day before coming home.

However, just because Eva is going back to prison doesn’t mean Nathaniel will disappear.

Athena has put some of her worries to rest, but she’s still stressed out when she comes in to work after everything that has gone down. Chimney naturally sees right through her and asks her what’s up, the whole story spilling out.

“That’s awful, Hen,” Chimney tells her voice filled with sympathy.

“Yeah, custody shit is the worst,” Buck agrees, surprising Hen until she remembers when this first came up and Buck apparently went on a research spiral about it. No wonder he has opinions and it’s not like she disagrees, custody shit is definitely the worst.

Next to Buck Eddie is nodding along. He doesn’t seem surprised that Buck knows anything about it, she wonders if he rambled about it to Eddie – the man has proven to be incredibly patient about Buck’s rambles – or if it came up due to something Eddie said. He never talks about his situation with Chris, though they have inferred some details.

“Are you ever worried about anything like that with Chris?” she finds herself asking anyway, wanting to connect with someone who understands, who might be able to give some advice.

“Oh, uh,” Eddie’s eyes grow wide as he stumbles and Hen feels a little bad for asking, since he obviously isn’t a sharer. He doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes, looking at the ground as he says: “Shannon – my ex-wife – divorced me when I was in Afghanistan. We had shared custody until a little after I got back, then she signed it over to me. So it’s uh- it’s different.”

Eddie looks obviously uncomfortable and Hen regrets bringing it up. She’s about to wave it off, but Buck beats her to it. “Have you talked to the guy yet? I mean, Athena said he was a good dude, right? And just because Eva’s an awful person, doesn’t mean he is.”

“I suppose we can try,” she sighs, letting Buck bring the conversation back to her own problems as she watches Eddie relax from the corner of her eye.

In the end she does try. Her and Karen talk with Nathaniel and he’s a good guy, who just wants what is best for his son and willing to follow their lead on it. To keep his distance for Denny’s sake. It feels like a tension is released, a wound that is healing. The stitches have been taken out and it can now continue mending on its own.

She is not the only one who is healing. She hasn’t gotten a lot of alone time with Maddie yet, but she’s been hearing nothing but good from her two most trustworthy sources; Athena and Chim. And of course Buckaroo is an endorsement of his own.

Today she is moving out. Hen is more than happy to let the others help her move, choosing instead to spend some time at home catching up with chores while Denny is at school and Karen is at work. It always feel good to do her part, since slack can creep in when you don’t work regular hours.

Chimney, however, is very much helping. Maddie is incredibly beautiful and kind and funny and totally worth dealing with overprotective Buck for.

After what happened with Doug he totally gets that she isn’t itching to jump into a relationship with anyone, so he’s playing it cool. Besides, she’s awesome, he’d like to have a friend like her, regardless of whether she wants to date him.

Still, he can’t help but happily volunteer himself for setting up and explaining the security system to her, so he can be close with her, while Buck and Eddie are moving and doing their own Buck and Eddie thing.

He usually doesn’t mind the Buck and Eddie show. It can be kind of entertaining to watch them in the loft or during slow pace calls. They’re very in sync – much like he and Hen, though it took them a little longer to fall into that kind of pattern – and their back and forth can be hilarious.

Chimney is glad Buck found a match for work, he always seemed a bit like a lost puppy before, like he was missing something. Being complete looks good on him.

Though it might not be only Eddie, but Maddie too, who makes him look like that. And Maddie is definitely more interesting than her brother and his bestie (Eddie would hate it if he knew Chimney referred to him like that, which only amuses him more).

By the time, they’ve eaten their pizza and said their goodbyes, Chimney has secured himself a hang out with Maddie to show her some of the local bars and food places.

When they rescue a helicopter, he has no idea it will lead to seeing her sooner while he is tripsitting her baby brother, but life works in mysterious ways like that. He likes to see it as a sign of the universe, that it is pushing them together.

But rewinding again, it starts with the helicopter, which leads to Taylor Kelly showing up to their firehouse with a film crew.

Chim is cleaning one of the trucks. They’re doing a deep clean of everything, the B shift staying later, while they came in earlier, so everyone is helping.

He hears some commotion behind him with Cap talking, he doesn’t sound too happy, so Chimney isn’t going to mix in whatever is happening. Buck, however, has no such inhibitions and comes up to what appears to be a film crew with Taylor Kelly when Chim chances a glance.

As he works, he keeps an ear out, watching out for the baby of the firehouse – no, he and Hen don’t care that Eddie has been here shorter and is the same age – as he talks with Taylor. With him, Chimney never knows if he is flirting or if he is genuinely interested in her job. Both have definitely happened on calls before and there have been misunderstandings. Messy ones.

Just as he is deciding Buck might be flirting and he should step in, Eddie does it for him. He gets up from the gym and starts asking Taylor about how she is recovering. The interruption is a little abrupt and almost jealous. Chimney finds himself turning away from his job to watch this episode of the Buck and Eddie show.

Though he must admit he gets pulled in when Taylor starts pitching her plan to them. Chimney is not above admitting he likes the attention his job gives him. Sure, right now he cares the most about saving people, making a difference in their lives, but he can’t deny that he started working in the field because of the hero worship you can get.

Looking around, he sees Buck is kind of excited about the prospect, while Hen is apprehensive, Cap is a definite no, and he can’t get a read on Eddie.

Eddie is a private person from what he has seen. If he had to guess, he’d say Eddie wouldn’t want anything to do with this. However, Chimney can’t forget that Eddie walked up to Taylor, interrupting a conversation he wasn’t a part of while he would have otherwise stayed in the background, so maybe Chimney is wrong.

But Eddie does look slightly anxious about the whole thing, trying to catch Buck’s eye probably for some of the mind reader bullshit they do sometimes. Buck is too distracted to notice and Chim almost wants to rotate his eyes towards Eddie so he can know what’s going on in Eddie’s brain, but that might not be the best thing to do with a camera pointed at them, so he restrains himself.

With the all clear from the Chief, Bobby resigns himself to her presence and everyone does their little interviews.

More in line with Chim’s expectations, Eddie disappears a bit to the background saying something about the military when asked and very pointedly never mentioning Chris, while Buck sticks with Chimney to be in the camera, happily showing them around. Bobby avoids the camera like the plague, while Hen doesn’t shy away, but doesn’t seek it out. Chimney knows that despite the fact that she isn’t the biggest fan, she will never pass up an opportunity to show that people like her can be in this line of work.

Over the two days that Taylor Kelly follows them, they primarily have medical calls. So the only person upset they don’t get to shine is Buck, though Chimney isn’t sure that call with the bug eating contest would be called shining for him.

Of course, Chimney doesn’t know that it also works out with the frantic deal made in the Buckley-Diaz household after that first shift where they’d been surprised by it; they aren’t going to mention Chris and kind of stay out of each other’s way in the firehouse, except on calls. It’s not like they were going to act like Eddie’s first day, but maybe not as close. Best not to invite questions.

Since Buck is mostly sticking with Chimney and the camera crews, the others haven’t picked up on the fact that it is each other they’re avoiding.

Naturally it can’t go right forever. Chimney supposes they should be lucky it wasn’t a worse call, that everything ended well in the end, that he didn’t have to deal with a camera crew on top of it all as well.

The fucked up part is that Chimney – a licensed professional – doesn’t even notice. Sure, Buck and Eddie are halfway on top of each other and Buck apparently checks the pollen index even though only Eddie has a hay fever, but that’s practically normal.

No, instead it’s Athena, who notices first and figures out it’s probably everyone as she takes those with him on the call into custody so they can’t hurt anyone. And she also leaves Chimney with three of his high colleagues, while she goes to save Bobby – which of course she should, but it’s not the ideal for Chimney right now.

Hen is the easiest, not only is her high a peaceful one, but he also has Karen’s number and can easily get her picked up.

Eddie on the other hand is still on the brink of crying and Chimney is sure that the only thing that is stopping him from falling off that ledge is Buck, who is seemingly making up stories about Christopher and chickens. Chimney isn’t going to ask questions, happy to let Buck ride out his gentle high while doing part of Chimney’s job for him, because he has no one to call for Eddie and now has to call Maddie about her baby brother being drugged. Joy.

Naturally, Maddie is quite stressed out, though quickly on her way to pick up Buck, as well as providing him with the number of Eddie’s tía Pepa.

Maddie arrives first and together they struggle to separate Buck and Eddie. If it weren’t kind of terrifying that someone had drugged their family and it could have gone incredibly wrong, it would almost be funny how petulant and sad both are about it.

With everyone picked up and the scene taken over, Chimney heads back to the station. As the only one not currently high out of their mind, he’s the man left behind until they can get a full and sober crew in the firehouse that hasn’t just come off a long shift.

Karen sends him some videos of Hen staring lovingly to a point behind the camera (Karen) rambling even more about love to fill the time. It makes Chimney a little sad they’re already married, because that would have been great best man speech material.

Chimney doesn’t hear from Pepa and can only hope Eddie’s high is going slightly better. He sends Athena a short text to ask about Bobby, but only gets a curt response. Understandable, since Bobby just got tricked into breaking his sobriety and nearly killing himself.

The whole stunt could have ended so much worse. To soothe his worries he also texts back and forth with Maddie, but she isn’t at her phone a lot, since Buck’s gentle high has turned into an emotional one.

Despite not taking any calls, he is drained when he finally gets to leave. He feels like he repeated the story a million times already, to relatives, to the police and now the to the B shift that came to take over for him.

Buck has according to Maddie moved from crying it out to sleeping it off and Chimney tells her that despite usually knowing better, he’s going to follow her brother’s example, which gets him some laughing emojis back.

After a good amount of sleep for all of them and a drug test for most of them, they’re all back for a shift.

Bobby has come in early and hidden away, a clear message that he does not want to discuss it. But Hen is right there to be made fun off, which she takes like a champ. She sniffs: “I’m not embarrassed about being filled with love, Chim.”

“According to Karen love is not the only thing you wanted to be filled with,” Chimney says gleefully.

“Oh shut up!”

��What are we talking about?” Buck asks as he and Eddie come walking up, both looking better than the last time Chimney saw them. Which isn’t that hard admittedly, since both were crying said last time.

“Nothing.” “About Hen’s horny love ramblings.” They answer at the same time.

Hen gives him an ‘are you serious’-look, before turning to Eddie and Buck and saying: “Did both of you get everything out of you system alright?”

“Yeah, did either of you stop crying soon?” Chimney asks.

“Crying?” Hen repeats, looking between Chimney and Buck and Eddie to get answers, but both look flushed and horribly embarrassed and neither of them are answering.

Chimney doesn’t mind filling Hen in, however. “Yeah, when Maddie came to pick Buck up it was a whole thing to get them separated. Eddie still hadn’t calmed down completely by the time Pepa came to get him and according to Maddie, Buck cried later too.”

“Shut up,” Buck pouts, his blush not at all hidden by his complexion.

“Ahw but it’s so fun, Buckaroo.”

“I can literally text Maddie and ruin any chance at being her friend or more, do not test me, Howard.”

“Oef touchy, touchy,” Chimney says, but he does drop it, instead turning to Eddie. “So, what about it, Eddie?”

“Uh, no, I mostly slept it off,” Eddie lies. He swore tía Pepa to secrecy, something she might not keep, but at most Buck will find out that he cried about not being able to go home to be with his family and that will only be mildly embarrassing. He can spin that to be about Chris, not both of them. He doesn’t know why that is important to him, but it is.

“Really? Nothing big happened?” Chimney asks, a little disappointed.

“I mean, Chris was a little confused about why there was no one to tuck him in while we got send home early, but Carla was able to work late and explained it to him,” Eddie shrugs.

“Ugh, lucky,” Buck groans, throwing himself on the couch. “I embarrassed myself so much. After all my efforts to do dumb shit like this when Maddie couldn’t see, this had to happen to me. I’m never going to eat anything I didn’t see prepared.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Eddie tries to comfort him. Buck hasn’t told him anything about what happened yet, which to be fair, he didn’t either, but Buck is more of an open book.

“You weren’t there,” Buck grouches, crossing his arms. “I had to wrestle for control to get those videos deleted.”

Buck had, much to his humiliation, spend the evening crying about missing his husband, only barely managing to not cry about his kid as well. Probably because he was actually with Eddie when he got separated.

When he sobered up, Maddie had a whole lecture ready for him about work place conduct and how inappropriate it was to refer to people like that in a professional setting and how she got that this was his first steady, grown up person job, but that he really couldn’t do that.

While it was nice to get the conformation that she hadn’t caught on and thus hadn’t been homophobic that first time, because she was super cool about him saying he’s bi, he could have done without that.

He also could have done without her gently discouraging his crush on Eddie – likely because she thinks he’s happily married or whatever, since this is his life now – because that had been kid of soul crushing in a different way. A part of him had wanted to explain it to her then, but he’d been hung over and the thought of having to deal with that while having a pounding headache, didn’t sound too appealing.

“This sounds juicy,” Chimney says. “You sure she might not tell me? I mean, maybe a movie or something could warm her up to me.”

“You are not allowed to get close to my sister to get black mail material on me.”

“Tsk, like that would be my only motivation.”

“Ugh, don’t be gross, dude.”

“No! I meant as in she is a nice person and needs friends. Don’t you want your sister to have a social life, Buck?”

“Okay, okay, gentlemen, let’s tone it down,” Hen interrupts them, before the bickering can go further.

“I agree with Hen,” Bobby says, materializing next to her. “The Chief has now officially banned accepting baked goods from strangers, however, I am not a stranger, so you all are in luck, because we baked brownies to share this weekend.”

“Fuck yeah, brownies!” Buck cheers, before the rest registers and he pouts: “I’m gonna miss the carbs.” Apparently he has already forgotten about his vow from earlier to never eat food he didn’t see prepared.

“Come on, you big dummy,” Eddie rolls his eyes, knocking their shoulders together.

The action seems to cheer Buck up, because he smiles and gets up, bouncing over to the kitchen ahead of them and scooping up a big portion of brownies. That in turn gets Chimney running, not wanting to miss out again (though missing out last time hadn’t been the worst in the end).

With Taylor not airing their drugged misfortunes, they move on from it. Buck and Bobby both take to bringing baked goods to work more often to make up for it and Chimney does actually make good on his idea to watch a movie with Maddie, though he doesn’t get any embarrassing stories about high Buck from her. Maddie doesn’t out people and is good at secrets, something Chimney doesn’t know yet.

And so they all move towards Halloween.

~~

A/N:

This is only slightly related, but oh my god, I am so gay for Karen, we need more Karen content, bc I am such a homo for her and I want her on my screen <3

Hope this doesn’t read too much like a filler chapter for the sake of getting through these episodes (even though it kinda is) bc I feel weird glossing over episodes, so I’m kind of including all of them (except the ‘Blank, Begins’ episodes of season 2)