#cons are so stressful why do i keep watching shows about them

[maraczeks]

bcs s6 thread pt 2

[owliellder]

Two's A Crowd

College Bully! Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5)

Description: College is proving to be a lot harder than you imagined. You cannot fail this math class. So when you've tried everything else, a well-known student is recommended to you by your professor for tutoring lessons, not really leaving you with much of a choice but to work with him.

Warnings: Not proofread, No Use of Y/N, Dub-Con, Unprotected Sex, Bullying, Yelling, Cursing

Tags: College AU, Bully! Leon, Shy! Reader, both are in their early 20's, Leon is Rude AF in the beginning, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Fingering, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Additional Tags to be Added

Author's Note: Slightly shorter chapter since I got stuck watching the last two episodes of Fionna and Cake, but I hope y'all like where I'm steering this. Pick up what I'm putting down, eh??

Cross-posted onto AO3

Chapter 2:

“This is insane. You’re not even trying.” 

Leon’s cruel comments had been endless since you showed up today. He was already irritated that you even showed to begin with, now he’s just taking all his frustrations out on you. The guy isn’t even passive aggressive, he’s just aggressive. “I showed you the formula like.. five times already.”

“I don’t need you to patronize me, please.” You asked with a meek voice, bringing your hands up to cover your face for a couple seconds before placing them down on either side of the new math assignment sitting in front of you. You understood his impatience though, you were even starting to grow impatient with yourself, having been stuck on the third question for over thirty minutes now. Leon stressed the fact that you got one hour only with him and you’d basically wasted half that time bouncing from the formula he’d written down to the question itself.

The formula was helpful, but this question included more numbers than you knew what to do with. The main issue was knowing which numbers went where in the formula and you wanted to know why they went where they did, but Leon was only giving you the formula and nothing else. One vague explanation and then he was right back on his phone.

You had a glimmer of hope for the frat boy sitting in front of you. Had, being the keyword here. One study session in and you were already starting to accept defeat. “Can you explain it to me again?” You tapped your pencil on the table nervously, keeping your eyes glued to your paper to avoid the obvious glare you’d receive from him.

The sound of his phone slamming down on the table accompanied with a groan made you grip onto your pencil tighter, now holding it still as he pulled the paper away from you. “Do I have to hold your hand, too? What’s so hard to understand about this?” He reached over, yanking your pencil from your hand so he could scribble out the first few steps to the problem. Afterwards, he tossed both the paper and pencil back over to you, tapping his finger down on the work he wrote down before circling it once. “Need anything else? A warm bottle of milk? Want me to read you a bedtime story?”

He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms with a sigh after picking his phone back up. “You’ve got fifteen more minutes.” The fuck’s his problem? 

Letting out a small sigh of your own, you silently picked up the pencil and looked down at what he’d written. Surprisingly, it did help you make more sense of the rest of the assignment sheet, figuring out the placement of the numbers by using where Leon had put them. Soon, the assignment sheet was finished and you had him look it over.

“Is it-.. Is it good?” You watched Leon carefully, studying his face for any sort of emotion other than annoyance. You unfortunately didn’t find it, but his muttered “good” made you smile, taking your own turn studying your work once he handed it back. Not tossed or thrown, handed back.

He took in a sharp breath through his nose before standing up, focus still trained on his phone. There was only a few minutes left in the hour, so you guess he took your understanding of the material as his leave. “Can we.. uh.. study again on Monday?” His hand paused on the door handle at your question, looking back at you from over his shoulder with his lips pulled tight as he gave you a glare. “You just love taking up my time, don’t you?”

“Wait, is that-” The slam of the door cut you off, leaving you to watch him saunter off through the large window in the door. Your shoulders slumped and you turned back to give your math assignment one last look before stuffing it into your backpack. At least with this new understanding, you’d be able to hopefully do the next few assignments. Mr. Lebovic was kind enough to let you redo your past fails, meaning all you’re doing is slowly climbing your way back up to a better grade with make-up work.

You held out for Leon, constantly giving him the benefit of the doubt with each study session following the first. You did your absolute best to remain passive with him, but each session was filled with crude, nasty, hate-filled comments directed at you, so it was only a matter of time until you started throwing your own comments back at him. By the beginning of November, studying had been put on the back burner whenever you two met up, assignments left abandoned in favor of fleshing out full blown arguments. He always won since you’d never really had a loud voice to defend yourself and his favorite go-to was low blow insults, somehow always managing to sniff out your insecurities.

Leon’s pattern was always one step forward, ten steps back with you. He would help and then spend the rest of your hour together nitpicking your every attempt to learn. He hated you and it was driving you mad. It was impossible to learn anything like this.

You’d grown a sour mood leading up to your trek to the library for one of your regular study sessions, a scowl settling on your face. You decided hours ago that getting dressed wasn’t an option today, you just didn’t weren’t in the mood, so instead you threw on a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants to mind the brisk chill that had rolled in at the end of October. 

The walk to the main building was dull; most of the leaves on the trees around campus had long since browned and fallen off, the grass was dead and crunchy, and it almost felt like it would start snowing anytime now with how quickly the cold had come. The feel in the air made you tired, it made you miss home. The weather made you long for the warmth a home-cooked meal provided, but you had to wait, and that wait was only contributing to your already piss poor mood.

Making your way into the library and into the reserved study room, you didn’t even notice Leon’s smile until he asked you to pull out your most recent assignment. It immediately put you off because it wasn't like his normal cocky smile or smirk, no, this one was oddly genuine. Soft, even.

“Can I see it?” He asked, smile widening slightly as he gestured towards your backpack. Even his tone was softer than usual. “Uh…” You weren’t quite sure how to react, not really processing his words as you tried to figure out whether he’s setting a trap or not.

“Your assignment. Can I see it?” Leon clarified, his arms resting crossed on the table as he glanced down to your bag and then back up at you. That was also weirding you out; the eye contact. Normally he only ever met your gaze when he was intimidating you with a deep glare and it wasn’t ever this long. He was making a point to look at you now.

Without saying a word, you unzipped your bag and pulled out a couple papers, only looking away from him twice to make sure you were getting the right ones. You made sure to hold eye contact with him, eyebrows furrowed as you searched for any insincerity. 

You’d grown rigid with his kind behavior, even more so when he thanked you and took the papers from you. Questioning him was your top priority right now, though your mouth refused to work with your brain, causing you to stutter out a simple “..what?” Leon only hummed, tilting his head a bit as he looked down at your work, following the tip of his pen as it trailed down the paper. 

“What-..” You repeated, swallowing dryly before finally getting the full “What’re you doing?” out. He seemed genuinely confused at your question, looking up to give you a puzzled look. “Hm? Whaddya mean what am I doing? I’m looking over your work.” He looked back down at your paper, clearing his throat quietly.

“No, you’re being nice. Why are you being nice?” You were quick to shoot back to try and draw his attention back to you. “If this is a joke, I’m not gonna fall for it.”

Leon sighed and dropped the pen down onto the paper to rest his crossed arms on the table again. “Why are you asking so many questions? It’s not a big deal.”

Not a big deal?! “Not a big deal?! You’ve argued with me every other day for the past three weeks!” Your hands balled up into fists on your lap, completely baffled by the dismissiveness of his complete 180° in demeanor. “I-” You stopped yourself, taking a moment to breathe. This was.. actually a nice change of pace now that you think about it. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth?

He gave you his normal annoyed look at your sudden pause, seemingly waiting on you to finish talking. “You..?” Shaking your head a bit, you let out a soft laugh and waved your hand. “Nevermind, uh.. yeah, nevermind…”

“Ooookay, well, you did good on this one so you can turn it in.” Leon held up the first paper before sliding it across the table to you, then picking up the second paper. “But this one needs a bit of work. I circled the questions that need to be redone, not gonna tell you what’s wrong with them, though.” You watched as he slid the other paper to you with your own smile now forming. Pulling out a pencil, you started to relax for the first time around this guy, bringing your attention down to the circled questions.

Your study session has never been more productive. He was being helpful; answering your questions, talking you through each step, giving you smiles and the occasional thumbs up. You’re not sure what changed or why, but you definitely weren’t complaining. When Leon wasn’t acting like someone shoved a stick up his ass, he was actually pretty handsome. You’d mentally recognized his good looks when you first met him, yet his demeanor as a whole masked those good looks entirely.

There was no way he could throw anymore surprises at you, but you stood corrected when he walked over to you at the end of your session, stopping you from walking out. “Listen, I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting. I don’t want to be mean to you, it’s just…” He paused to laugh to himself, looking down at the ground with an almost bashful expression. “I’m only tutoring because it’s a big part of my grade in my class, so..” Not a complete lie on his part.

“Oh. Oh, it's.. it’s fine.” You didn’t want him to revert back to his old style, so you chose to just dismiss it. His attitude did make sense, you wouldn’t want to tutor random people for a grade. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks. Uh.. oh, here-” Leon opened and held the study room door open for you, giving you a small wave as you walked out, which you returned. That was a nice mood booster, not being degraded and demeaned every time you see the one person who’s supposed to help you. 

Your friends had their own opinions about the experience after you described it to them. You’d been relaying every bit of info relating to your study sessions from the past three weeks to them, a second and third opinion was good to have for such an odd trade.

“I don’t trust it. Plain and simple.” Sky placed their hands down on their thighs with an audible slap. They didn’t seem impressed by Leon’s sudden chivalry, and to your disappointment, neither did Ella when you looked over from Sky to her. She just looked back at you with a shrug. “Sorry. I’m gonna have to take Sky’s side on this. There’s just something off about that.”

You sighed in defeat, turning your head around to look out the window in the dorm room. It was nice that Sky and Ella shared a dorm, you can’t discuss stuff like this in your own dorm in case your roommate decided to randomly appear. “Yeah…”

Ella scooted closer to you on the bed and pulled you back so your head was resting in her lap. “I know you got your hopes up, but please be careful. I don’t wanna see you get hurt because some pretty boy decided it would be fun to manipulate you.” You groaned, covering your face with your arms. Nothing even happened and you’re already feeling embarrassed.

“It’s okay if you like him, he is kinda cute.” Ella giggled and moved one of your arms to poke your cheek. “But just remember that the guy’s got a bit of a reputation for being a major douche.”

Sky, sitting over on their bed, pointed at Ella in agreement. “Emphasis on major douche.” They smiled and leaned back, their head plopping onto their pillows. “It was just one instance of him being sweet, after all. Who’s to say he won’t revert back to being an asshole by Wednesday?”

“I know, I get it.” You swatted Ella’s hand away and sat back upright. Even if he was putting up a front, it was still nice to get some real help with your math without being insulted. Everyone deserves a second chance and he seemed honest enough when he told you why he’d been so rude, so why not try again with him? Start fresh, maybe you’ll get to make an unlikely friend out of this popular frat boy.

A bit of a far fetched idea, considering the vast differences between you and Leon, but anything like that is worth another try. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

tags:

@kayotee4 @k-fallingstar @bobastayhigh @mi-zer-y @chasingkennedy @l30nva @espressonerd @jjouki @5tarx @bunnybreadloaves @whoisgami @cyanscribe @c4b3r1a @darichvep @mmmangel @kingtacocat @klee-iii @baby--vera @dakiniii @kenma-izhu @aliidarling @leonsmamacita

(a few of your blogs won't show up but i tried)

[sunshineandspencer]

Coffee dates (Iridescent, Part 3)

A/N: I don’t know how to enemies to lovers, why can’t we all just be friends. Again, I haven’t seen past season 10, I don’t know how it works or who is present so if there are mistakes you can blame showrunners for making me too nervous to keep watching <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!OC.

Summary: Their last coffee date before finally getting back to the office, he’s bored and wants to find out what she’s been working on. 

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: swearing, spencer is an ass™

Parts: Pt1, Pt2, Pt4

Let me stress, this is not Maeve from the show, but my own Maeve just named the same to send Spencer into hell whenever he thinks about it.

They’re getting close to the end of his probationary period now, and the thought of getting back to the office, and back to catching psychos was intoxicating.

Sure, she enjoyed his lectures, but not nearly enough to deal with him for longer than she had to.

There’s only one of his lectures left, and yet she still finds herself completing the last assignment he gave just like all the rest. It’s due today and mostly completed, but she just wanted to tweak a few things and add some more references. Working quietly next to him in the campus cafe as always.

He’s realised before, but now that his time was coming to a close, he was properly aware of the fact that she was always working. On all their little coffee dates - he refuses to call them that, and she only does it to piss him off - between their lectures, she’s always writing.

So far that’s been perfect, because he didn’t want to talk to her unless absolutely necessary, neither did she. The two of them avoid conversation like the plague and have silent coffee dates in his breaks.

However, he has no marking left, and finished his book, he is bored and wants to annoy her.

A quick text told him that it’s paid leave for her, which he didn’t know until now but makes the fact that she actually put up with him make sense, and means that she isn’t going over casework. He’s dying to know what it is.

When he sends her off for another round of coffee, he barely even waits for her to turn the corner towards the till to reach out and snatches the page she had been writing on.

Surprise turns him cold to find that it’s his work, set in the lectures that he expected his students to complete. Not only that, but he recognises the writing style, and she had been giving in work as someone called ‘Maisie’, lying about who she is.

Of all the people attending his lecture, he certainly didn’t expect her to do the work, much less under a different name.

Especially when the writing is so.. Good.

Maeve finally came back, sitting down and sliding his coffee across to him, not even batting an eye that he had her work in his hands. Sipping her coffee and feeling the immediate bitter tang of caffeine. Setting her own mug down and shrugging at his questioning tone.

“You’re completing the work I set?”

“Yeah.”

Part of him wondered if she would try to lie, wanting to determine what he could get from profiling her if she did. Expectedly, however, expected her to tell the truth, it’s definitely on brand for her. Suck up.

“Why?”

“I’m not allowed casework when I’m with you, in case you try to involve yourself.” Glaring at him, considering they had proved Emily right by inserting himself uninvited into her work the minute he got bored and she turned her back. Cons of working with profilers, he supposes. “I needed something to do or I would’ve gone crazy. Besides, I felt like you’d want someone completing the work because they enjoy the lecture, not because they think you’re pretty.”

He stared at her for a moment, really using all 187 points of his IQ to take in what she said, then shook his head. Placing the sheet back on the pile and picking up his coffee.

“My students don’t find me attractive.”

Honestly, he’s a little offended by the way she scoffed at him.

“The room is 80% women, they don’t even pay attention half the time, they just stare at you and your hands.” His hands? Now it just feels like she’s projecting, but she doesn’t stop talking yet. “One of them didn’t even complete your last assignment. She just handed in an A4 piece of paper with her number on, it was titled ‘Call Me’.”

He remembers, and he didn’t even look at it long enough to remember the number. The past minute of conversation feels like it shouldn’t be real. Blinking softly in confusion and trying to subtly glancing down from her to his hands and then back again.

Deciding to just hum softly, as if it wasn’t actually something new to him. Picking up his coffee to finally take a sip, irritatingly perfect - God he wished she didn’t try so hard.

“And you?”

“Me?”

“You’re a woman.”

Lifting her head, the look on her face was a picture. Feeling that, had he spoken in Dutch, he probably would’ve gotten the exact same facial expression.

“Am.. I supposed to congratulate you for correctly identifying that I’m a woman?”

He scowled over at her, and that’s a lot better. Their little coffee dates over the last 30 days had been spent mostly silent aside from snide comments and scowls, she wasn’t used to all this conversation from him. So getting him back to scowling again felt like progress.

Until he leant in, a smug grin settling on her face again that she was quickly coming to hate.

“No. But~ surely, if you’ve noticed them finding me attractive, doesn’t that mean you think I’m pretty as well? Hm, little assistant?”

Thankfully, she doesn’t even miss a beat.

“I’d rather make out with a pencil sharpener than you, Doctor Reid.”

Spencer couldn’t help the scowl on his face, even though he was still very smug on the inside. She so gets off on calling him that.

But she got up, and that startled him slightly, watching as she started to pack away her work into her bag. Eyes darting to his, meeting his scowl with a smug grin of her own for managing to get back at him again. Hoping, desperately, that he doesn’t notice that she didn’t actually answer his question.

“Your last lecture is starting soon, hurry up.”

Of course she thinks he’s pretty, but that doesn’t mean she likes him. And she certainly isn’t going to admit it to his face.

Want more?! Good!

[azulsluver]

Hey hi hello!!! I hope you're having a nice day today! If it's not a bother, I'll be leaving a request for your bully!au. Maybe with a reader who's a hot head? Like, the moment they start acting up, readers already in their face asking questions like "why the fuck are you being such a dick?" Normally, reader could conceal this if it was the normal twst, but the moment the twst guys start slipping, reader is already confronting them on why they are being such assholes. You know how narancia from jjba acts like when he's stressed or mad? Yeah exactly like that! Pulling out the knife out too. Reader doesn't care about their reputation, so they wouldn't care less if they were threatened by that. I love your writing too!!! I always look forward to it when I open Tumblr. Thank you for reading, and have a nice day!!

This is not gonna end well…BUT THANK YOU BEST COMPLIMENT OF THE BLOG!!! <333

Buncha rambles, dunno where this was gonna lead so sorry if this isn’t what you wanted 😅

tw. yandere, bully!characters, mentions of stabbing/murder, manipulative!reader for the win 🏆

No one is gonna side with you. The bystanders do absolutely nothing till this point, reputation is very important and they don’t want it being dirty with yours (lmao ironic). Besides people like Lilia, Malleus, and Jade—they find your “hot-headed” personality attractive.

You’ll get picked on more yes, these students are much stronger than you by far, but you wouldn’t go down without them having a piece of your mind. Calling out on their schemes will make some embarrass— Cater, Ace, Epel. Others will be more aggressive or try to turn the situation around and blame you for overreacting.

Pulling a stunt as trying to knife one of them? May be successful if I’m honest. Depends on who you choose to do so, you won’t be alone in a group of two, they’ll always be another watching or tagging along. They’ll keep in mind to not let you be near any sharp or heavy objects, you clearly can’t handle being by yourself.

I can see a hot-headed reader making it far for themselves and not fall too deep into the victim pit. Standing up for yourself is already hard enough, you’re going against people who are training to become said mages. But at the end of the day everyone is still human no matter how cruel they are. They aren’t bullet proof nor emotionless. Get them to hurt, physically or mentally, with their guard down you can successfully have them under your thumb.

Reader who butts in first and steps up, show some respect around here. This will help you gain sympathy from bystanders and a little chance for them to befriend. That’s where Jack comes in. You’ve shown him you were worthy of helping and not just some runt who lets people walk all over them. This won’t be enough to overthrow any housewarden or powerful mage, but it’ll do.

People are not gonna enjoy your pushy and rude attitude for long, the pros and cons don’t weigh as equally. Especially when the cons lead to death.

“Oh but why don’t they get in trouble?”

Because they know how to clean up a scene and fast. Also who would believe you, a strange person who came out of the coffin when you weren’t supposed to be there. No one trusts you and won’t take your side, and since this is a bully!AU people tend to look the other way if murder is convicted. You aren’t all that important with little to no background, the perfect victim to get rid of.

And Idia gets rid of the evidence if there’s any camera involved.

You can’t just go around and stab people at random, let alone pick a fight. What you need is strategy. Be more self aware and focused, as difficult it is to talk to a brick wall, it’ll crumble if you stay long enough to experience it’s downfall. For those interested in knowing who can actually lose to a let’s say…neutral reader (fairly strong enough and a good amount of willpower), my take is on Riddle, Deuce, Ace, Azul, Jack, Epel, Rook, Vil, Idia, Malleus, and surprisingly last Sebek.

Should’ve switched the surprisingly for Rook because wow. Show them who’s boss babe, besides your cowardly counter part they are doomed if you’re more dominant. Not in a weird way lol, take the wheel of your life outta their greasy hands!

[riverofrainbows]

Ok so the black book episode.

I finally watched it.

It could have done with a double feature. There was so much going on. And it worked, emotionally, but it was a lot. The plot was so fucking condensed.

Fuck when they do something they do it right, don't they. The deaths of the three were fucking harrowing. No fanfare or dramatics, just realistic and dead.

I'm so goddamn impressed by Sophie playing 12 different people. I love her. I know she gets a lot of recognition, but she deserves some more. Holy shit her voice training skills must be off the rocks.

I thought they would have hired Quinn for the police officer, he looked kind of similar, and then i thought it was him and Tara. But with Sophie being on phone theatre, of course Nate was free.

I wonder how fast Sterling figured it out. I think about half a minute into the room with Nate. The rest was just playing along, and hesitating whether to actually go through with the con, while setting up an outcome for both decisions. Usually i really don't think he has it all immediately figured out, but usually he isn't at quite that high alert, and the target isn't that clear and big a deal.

It really should have been a double feature, or a movie length episode. There needed to be more time, to really lay it all out.

I like what they used as the contents and method of collection for the black book. I watched another show (can't remember which) where it was some unsourced collection of various evil people, and that was soo shady and frustrating.

I've come across a bunch of Sterling/Nate shipping by now, and I'm starting to agree. Like that is genuinely a love story for the ages. However i am firmly convinced that it is entirely mental and intellectual. I just really can't see them having any relationship type. Not that Sterling wouldn't fuck Nate but that's just Mark Sheppard's insane gay flirting aura. But mentally, those two are having mind sex, and are tragic soulmate lovers. Also because they have divorced vibes. I'm convinced of the headcanon that they were in a couple friendship driven/held up by their wives socialising, and played 6d time travel chess mind games over barbecue (aka having a mind sex love affair right in front of the salad) (but really low key because they wouldn't actually cheat on their wives).

The way the con failed and they died was really realistic and well done and really stressed me out :(((( not over that.

Also the way this confirmed the Hardison-Eliot ship (platonic or romantic) was. Very much canon thank you. Not to mention the "till my dying day". Like hello??? Also the ice cave and rundown job train scene having already confirmed the depth of Eliot-Parker's bond earlier in the season. (But toxic masculinity and being a show from 2009 impeding the Hardison-Eliot part till the last episode/them dying (rituals to touch other mens skin etc etc flashbacks to superhell love confession sth sth bury your gays (except they lived bitch)).

Also the setup with "do you think you could live a normal life" earlier in the season. Also², annotation to that one: Eliot talking about having to help Hardison's restaurant, as if Hardison didn't buy it for him.

I liked the part about order vs justice. Very 'keeping the peace with an abusive person causing more harm than upsetting status quo'.

It's a good ending for a show. Seriously, it's both end of an era and not destroying everything that was before. Still glad we got leverage redemption tho obviously.

Parker being the new mastermind is great

Her monologue ajsbsjjd. I was cackling so bad. It was a fantastic way to really cinematographically tie up the show though, and she is great for the job. Both Hardison (who already has enough to do) and Eliot (who really doesn't like leading) always get way too deep into stuff, including their respective jobs for it, which is one reason why they're so good though don't get me wrong.

Why did she have slicked back hair with no bangs, and weird eyeshadow :( Awful 1/10. One point for her clearly thinking she needs to put on hair gel for stepping into a Nate role for a con, like that is exactly a logic she would have.

Eliot's blue tinted glasses, love it.

I like that they're not having one of the guys do it just for misogyny reasons, and that at the same time her doing it is very well supported and set up by their characterisations, and not as some sort of disrespectful shoehorned girlboss feminism move. Which ends up with a woman being the new mastermind being actually well done too. Because they never do annoying stereotypes at leverage, and thank fuck for that.

I love that Sterling was there for the last episode. Also, i swear, getting used by Nate for a con (while getting something out of it himself) is a kink thing for him. It happens genuinely almost every goddamn time we see him, while he knows and actively plays along.

I want to see more of Sophies telephone theatre :(

How the fuck did they fake the car accident, they should have shown sth on it.

Only because i knew very securely that they were fine did i not get completely freaked out at Hardison lying there on the ground. And i never ever want to see Eliot gargle up blood ever again. :((((

I was 100% convinced that Parker can hold him with just one hand, i was so shocked. Honestly one of the first clues from the story itself that it was fake. Yes i have that much trust in her. Second clue was the balloon.

No actually, first clue was Nate looking at the cameras. Can't remember which first clue came first in the episode.

I thought Nate gave Sterling something when he distracted him from the trio, and clearly Sterling also thought so, he probably took like several seconds to check if he had gotten anything slipped into his pockets afterwards.

I wish we could have seen more of the "you lied to us?" conversation at the end. Not that that wasn't the tldr of it or needed change, but i want to see the whole conversation.

The tunnels were great. I again wish to have gotten even a crumb more information on that.

It might have done well, and I'm just throwing out ideas here, to be a two parter episode, they could have really used some extra space. The plot was really condensed.

It was q good episode, and a very good ending, something oh so rare in tv shows.

[depravitycentral]

is the…cum jar…the reason why nobunaga is worse than shalnark…………

Tw: non-consensual recording, restriction of rights, smells (? natural body odor I guess?), implied non-con, if Shalnark could live with the smell of your pussy in his nose at all times then that smile of his would be genuine

The cum jar is the reason Nobunaga is worse than any of them.

(Including Feitan, so to the anon that asked why Nobunaga's darling is pitied more than Feitan's, that's the answer in simple, short terms.)

(But of course, aside from the jar, the excessive touching, referring to himself as Daddy, and the lack of consistent hygiene/showering certainly don't earn him any points, either.)

That's not to say that Shalnark doesn't have any issues or weird idiosyncrasies of his own, though. He's a little more subtle than Nobunaga, but not by too big of a margin.

Shalnark's penchant for recording you is really quite invasive. If the cameras he secretly placed in your apartment while he was still stalking you aren't enough proof of this, consider the fact that he's still recording you once he's kidnapped you, only he's less secretive about it now.

Now, instead of having small, discrete cameras placed into things like a stuffed animal, a book cover, or an unused outlet, they're just out in the open. The small, black cameras are clearly visible against the off-white walls of the apartment he keeps you in, standing out like a beacon. Plus, when the lights are off, the red flashing light on each is still on - taunting you from the corner of your vision, declaring that even while you're sleeping and he's not in the room, he's seeing everything.

They're everywhere, too - you've counted at least four in your bedroom space, one for each corner of the room. There's two in the bathroom; one covers the room at large, so he can see you brushing your teeth or drying yourself off or even using the toilet, and the other's angled to catch your every movement in the shower. (He's got an additional two waterproof ones in the shower that you don't know about yet - one sits in the center of the shower head (installed for the sole purpose of seeing and capturing everything should you decide to use the shower head for some stress relieving, personal activities), and one sits on the top of the plastic drain cover, so that he can get a nice view from below (when you drop your loofah or soap up your legs, the camera gets a nice, full view of your ass and cunt, a sight that Shalnark will always pause on and screenshot, the image being saved to the some dozens of photo folders he has dedicated to your nude body).

And he'll make you watch the footage with him, too - with a smile on his face and his fingers nearly trembling from his excitement and joy at seeing your horrified expression. He likes to narrate everything, too, prefacing with what you're about to do to show that he's already watched the footage multiple times - enough to be able to recite every action and move you make. He likes the way it makes you squirm, and he also just enjoys watching you, too.

Outside of that voyeuristic habit, Shalnark is certainly no saint when it comes to more risqué reasons why he might be placed lower on the desirability chart of Phantom Troupe yanderes. That is, he has this weird habit of limiting how often you can shower and bathe. At first, he uses this as a tactic to punish you or deter you from certain behaviors he deems undesirable. (Like avoiding his touch or ignoring him.) He figures that by letting you grow dirty and greasy and desperate to clean yourself, you'll be more likely to bend to his wishes, and frankly, it works - you feel disgusting with all the sweat caked into your skin, the sudden whiff of body order making you cringe when you move your arms (he won't provide you with deodorant, of course).

It'll drive you crazy, but no matter how complacent you are, or how receptive you are to his attempts at molding you into what he wants, Shalnark will become hesitant to give into your pleas to let you shower.

Because while he agrees that your skin feels better when it's freshly washed (softer, cleaner, more pure), there's something about the way you smell that gets him a little hot under the collar. It's your natural scent, something that's so you. It may be your body odor, sure, or just your pheromones (he likes to think that's what makes him want to rip off his pants and fuck you until you're crying nearly every time he sees you), but regardless, you'll find that he's much handsier and touchier when you haven't showered in a few days.

And frankly, that's saying a lot for Shalnark - he's already all over you, but now he's burying his face into your neck and inhaling, moaning at the way your skin smells. He's coming up behind you and pressing every inch of his body against yours, pinning your hips against the kitchen counter and letting his hands slip under your shirt to cup the undersides of your breasts, only to remove them and smell his hands because fuck your sweat smells good.

He's just weird, and it'll freak you out, making you both uncomfortable and self-conscious because there's absolutely no way he could enjoy the scents and odors that your body is producing. Why does he like the smell of your hair when it hasn't been washed in way too long? Why does he likes the smell of your cunt after it hasn't been washed in four days?

It's simple, really - because it's you, and Shalnark likes anything and everything that has to do with you. So he'll let you shower eventually, but he might only let you wash your hair (if you desire) or your armpits, perhaps. Areas he knows drive you crazy to have dirty. But other areas?

Well, if you know what's good for you, you won't touch your pretty little pussy without his explicit permission that you can wash it.

(Often, he'll throw you down onto the bed after you've exited the shower, forcing your legs apart and burying his face against your cunt, inhaling deeply and letting a smile sit comfortably on his lips, oddly genuine while a red flush sits high on his cheeks. You just smell too damn good, so don't be surprised when the smell of sex and musk and him get added to the mix, the cum dripping from your pretty little hole certainly not helping the smell.)

And really, that's what makes Shalnark so horrible - he's so omnipresent, worming his way into every aspect of your life, until you're asking him permission for anything and everything. And if you choose to disobey, all those cameras and recording devices will showcase the truth. (And even if they don't, he's got enough photoshopping and editing experience to make it look like you did whatever he wants.)

So while Nobunaga is ultimately the worst because you have to ingest his disgusting, rancid cum, Shalnark isn't too much of an upgrade. His humiliation and dehumanization is a different brand, yes, but it'll leave you feeling just as weak and incapable.

So really, pick your poison - I just happen to prefer greasy hair and constant surveillance over being forced to eat something made specially for me.

[bots-and-cons]

Could I get a bot!reader/Soundwave one? Maybe something angsty where reader is leaving the Cons for the Bots? (I'm fine if you wanna do Bots -> Cons instead)

This is the reader basically talking to Soundwave about leaving the decepticons. I think it would take a lot of trust between them to even talk about something like that, and breaking that trust, mmmmm angst. (Conjunx is like a bonded life partner for cybertronians, soulmates or something similar) I might want to make a part two to this tbh, something angsty too

You were hovering around Soundwave as he worked. He was supposed to come to your habsuite ages ago, so you’d come looking for him when he didn’t show up. You couldn’t seem to pry him away from his work, but that was nothing new. Soundwave recharged rarely, but you knew it had been a while since the last time, so he needed his rest, he ahd been working nonstop for days again.

“Waveyyyyy, come on” you whined, grabbing him by his waist, trying to drag him away from the computer.

He was too big for you to drag when he resisted you, so you had no choice but to keep whining at him.

“I need to talk to you before you recharge, so move your aft towards my habsuite” you groaned while motioning towards the door of the command center furiously.

There was no one else there, but you wanted to talk to him without having to fear someone walking in on you, or overhearing you.

“You can speak to me now” 

“No, I can’t” you stressed your reluctance.

“Fine” Soundwave sighed, closing whatever it was that he was working on.

Soundwave grabbed your hand and laced his digits with yours, as you started walking to your habsuite. You were nervous about what you wanted to talk to him about. You’d made your mind up days ago, but you needed to tell him. You just needed to convince him to come with you. You needed to at least try.

You made Soundwave sit down on your berth, while you ended up pacing back and forth in front of him.

“What did you want to speak to me about?” Soundwave asked a small smile growing behind his visor as he watched you pace in front of him.

“Well, you see…” you trailed off.

“Yes?”

“I want to leave the decepticons and I want you to come with me” you didn’t even realize what you had said before the words had already left your mouth.

You swiftly covered your mouth with your hands, as if you could stop yourself from saying the words that were already hanging in the air between the two of you.

“Why?” was all Soundwave could say as the smile died on his lips.

There were a million questions going through his mind, but all he could get out was: “Why?”. That was the only question that really mattered. Why would you betray him like this? Why would you break his spark like this? Why would you leave the cause you had always believed in? For Primus’ sake you were his conjunx, how could you do this to him?

“I don’t like what the decepticons have become, what I’ve become. Especially after we came to earth. It was different when it was just our planet, just us cybertronians warring amongst ourselves, but now that Megatron has dragged a whole other planet and its people into it, I don’t want to be a part of it anymore, any of it” you explained.

“I see” Soundwave had to force the words from his mouth.

“So you understand?” you asked, stepping close to him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“No! I absolutely do not. How could you do this to me, to us? How could you put me in this situation?” Soundwave hissed and stood up, starting to pace around the room.

"I wanted to be honest with you. I thought you’d at least understand where I’m coming from, even if… even if you didn’t want to go with me” you said.

“You were going to leave me anyway?” Soundwave asked, barely disguising the anger in his voice as you could feel his stare even through his visor.

“I don’t want to leave you, but I also need to be able to live with myself” you argued back.

“I can’t let you leave” Soundwave muttered, barely audible to you.

He knew what would happen if you deserted the decepticons. You would be hunted down and killed, and the mission would most likely be given to him. He couldn’t bear the thought of you dying, so he made a decision. No matter how angry he was with you now, he wouldn’t let you die, not now and not in the future. He would give you up, he would tell Megatron that you wanted to leave. He would hope that he could convince the warlord to just lock you up and “re-educate” you. It wasn’t a good plan, and he would gamble on a lot, but it was the plan with the highest chance of keeping you alive and still within his reach.

“What?” you asked, not sure if you’d heard him correctly.

“I can’t let you leave” Soundwave repeated a bit louder.

Even if he wouldn’t come with you, you were sure he would have let you leave without a fight.

“I don’t want to fight you” you said.

“You won’t have to” Soundwave said, sounding pained.

Before you knew it, you were falling. You could see him as you fell to the floor. Just before it all went dark, and you could’ve sworn you heard an echo of the words “I’m sorry” but it didn’t mean anything to you now. He hadn’t loved you enough to let you go after all.

[soapier]

when it rains, it pours *ੈ✩‧₊˚ jschlatt, ted nivison

002. whatever.

link to 001. welcome back, slut!

constance mcmahon

today's the day of the party, and connie couldn't be more excited. she'd already picked out her outfit, invited her friends, and helped clean and decorate; all there's left to do is get ready, pregame and wait for people to show up.

she leaned forward, already cross-legged on the bathroom counter, tweezers poised to snag any loose eyebrow hairs she could pick out. music played off her speaker, and she could hear ted humming along to it in the shower. pausing for a sip of the rather heavy-handed jack and coke schlatt had made for her (quite the bartender!), she heard her phone buzz.

dayna:

what are u wearing tn?

connie:

jeans n a little green top, nothing special

do yk if hasan's coming tn? he never confirmed

dayna:

no clue

buuut i'll see u later!!!

with a groan of annoyance, connie threw her head back before continuing the attack on her eyebrows. the shower stopped and she watched as ted's hand snaked out to grab his towel, before emerging with it around his waist.

"what was that for?" he shot her a look, stealing a sip of her drink as she explained. "i, like, really want hasan to come tonight, because i think he's really cute, or whatever, but also don't say anything or i'll kill myself, but he like, he hasn't told me if he's coming and if i shaved for nothing i'm gonna be pissed!"

"someone got over alex fast," there was a tinge of annoyance, almost judgement in his voice, and he was suddenly stone-faced, fixing his hair in the mirror beside her. connie couldn't help but drag her eyes down his torso, noticing the dangerously low towel, before snapping out of it and defending herself.

"listen, i know you think it's just a stupid girl thing," ted simply hummed in response, " but i do think he's cute, and while i don't want a relationship yet, i think he's sweet, and i'd let him hit, but not with this lack of communication."

"do whatever you think is best, cons," ted gave up on his hair, adding, "but i just don't think he's good enough for you. if you asked schlatt, i bet he'd say the same thing."

he closed the door behind him, leaving connie alone in the steamy bathroom, wondering just what the fuck that was about. ted's never acted like that before, especially not towards her. maybe he's just stressed about the party? whatever.

but ted not thinking hasan's good enough for her?  is he her fucking dad? and schlatt agreeing, too, thats weird. she's fairly certain he would literally sell her off for the right price. she (finally) understood their distaste for alex, but isn't hasan their friend? connie didn't get it, and chose to simply focus on her makeup in the wake of his comment.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

the three roommates gathered at the folding table set up in their cramped living room, preparing to take a couple of shots before people started arriving.

"bro, why does it have to be tequila?" connie whined, shooting schlatt a dirty look. "because this is all that ted likes, so unless you'd like to shotgun a beer right now, i'd keep that pretty mouth of yours shut."

with that, the three raised their glasses to their lips in a race of who could get it down first, schlatt making fun of ted and connie's disgusted faces afterwards.

"fucking nasty!" connie complained, reaching for the seltzer she was using as a chaser. "don't be a baby, connie," ted told her, stealing a sip from yet another one of her drinks.

just as he finished, there was a knock at the door, signifying that the first of their guests had arrived.

"charlie!" connie squealed, darting over to greet the blonde man. though the two weren't particularly close, neither of them were super fond of crowds, meaning that they tended to spend a lot of time together at parties, at least when her ex-boyfriend wasn't around.

"conman!" the silly nickname never failed to make her smile. "no alex, tonight?" he sounded hopeful.

"even better," connie started, confusion creeping into charlies face. "no alex, ever."

charlie grinned and congratulated her. "are you a hugger? can i hug you? i am so happy for you, connie."

they shared a quick embrace, before charlie added, "i'm sorry if that was insensitive, it's just... that guy was a total dick!"

"so i've heard," connie laughed. "schlatt and ted shared the general consensus on him when i broke the news the other day."

she followed charlie to the sofa that had been shoved to the far side of the living room, catching one another up on their summers as more and more people filed in. once she was about five drinks deep, connie realized that she needed to go plug in her computer so it wouldn't die on aux, and excused herself from the conversation.

a friend of schlatt's, cooper, was tooling around with the queue from her laptop, not that she minded, it took the pressure off of her. they talked briefly, and she drunkenly giggled at a joke he made. connie ensured that her laptop was charging, and then spun on her heel, intending to grab herself another drink.

intending to.

instead, she walked straight into hasan.

"oh! hey, connie," he grinned, a hand finding the small of her back. "funny seeing you here."

"hilarious," she blew her bangs out of her face, shifting her weight towards him. "when did you get here? are you having fun?"

he guided her out of the kitchen, grabbing them both a can on the way. she read it, keystone light. ew. she looked up, eyes trailing a sharp jaw and broad shoulders, suddenly very aware of the arm gently wrapped around her torso.

a rap song played from the speakers on the counter, and connie wracked her brain for the name, anything to distract herself from either oogling hasan or being too forward. gotta play it cool, cons. be chill. she took a sip of the beer, making a face. it's definitely kanye, she concluded.

they joined the crowd in the living room, connie picking out familiar faces to ground herself. she saw schlatt dancing with her best friend in the corner, nothing too close, but close enough for her to take note. she saw ted in the corner with charlie, the two chatting animatedly.

connie felt hasan take her hand and spin her playfully as the chorus of "promiscuous" played throughout the house.

"i heard about you and alex," he said, leaning down so that she could hear over the noise. "if you need to talk, i'm always here."

connie felt her face heat up, his breath warm against her ear. "oh, thanks," she said, locking eyes with him, cheeks flushed red.

the pair danced for a while, before connie asked if hasan wanted to go for a smoke with her. agreeing, he grabbed her hand as she lead him up the stairs towards her bedroom.

halfway up, connie looked back to check in on hasan, or maybe she just wanted an excuse to look at him, but instead locked eyes with a cold-faced schlatt at the base of the stairs. breaking his stare, she watched as he walked off, and led hasan to her room, closing the door behind them.

"oh, feel free to sit down!" she gestured to her room rather grandly, giggling to herself as she got ready to roll. he took a seat right next to her on the bed, thighs touching as he watched her work.

"damn," connie hissed, "this is a lot harder when i'm drunk." she fumbled the paper again, dropping her project onto the tray.

she watched hasan's hand intently as he took the tray from her lap and set it aside. "we can try that again later?" he asked, brown eyes meeting hers. she felt his hand meet her jaw, guiding her up sweetly.

his lips met hers for possibly the hungriest kiss she'd ever felt. oh, she thought, this was way easier than i thought. melting into the moment, she almost didn't notice the banging on her door.

"connie!" she barely registered the voice calling her name from the other side of the door, pulling away from hasan for barely a second before her door bust open.

"connie!" schlatt's frame loomed large in the door frame.

"schlatt, what the fuck?" she slurred, feeling hasan take his hand out of her shirt.

"yeah, man, we're kind of busy here," hasan rubbed the back of his neck, clearly less than pleased with the situation.

schlatt sighed, saying, "hasan, you should go downstairs." he took a few steps forward to allow space for hasan to pass by, except for the fact that he's made no effort to get off of her bed. connie looked between the two, slightly slack-jawed, and utterly humiliated with the pissing contest taking place in her room.

"i said to fuckin' go downstairs!" there was a grit in his voice, and a couple more steps towards the pair.

clearing her throat, connie began to speak, "hasan, i'll catch up to you later, okay?" she searched his face for any sign of emotion, eyes pleading with him to just go, to avoid the fight that is clearly brewing.

with one more quick peck to her lips, he stood and promised to find her in a bit. connie watched him slink out of the room, schlatt closing the door behind him.

[fluffypotatey]

Leverage 2x02

This show is so good why did it take me so long to come back T^T

Tap-Out Job they say… wonder if that’s bdsm or boxing. ELIOT EPISODE???👀👀👀👀please 🙏 please be an Eliot episode

ooooh Nebraska

IT IS BOXING

idk shit about boxing but my guess is that there’s steroids involved

Oh he looks drugged

Yikes

He’s fine

Maybe dead

Probably dead

God this intro 😂 so cheesy I love it

Oh so he’s still alive

Hmmmmm plant closed, Rucker something…..dots connecting

Ok so Rucker is a big deal wrestling ceo? He want a monopoly 

Awww Eliot geeking out over boxing 🥺🥺🥺 he better play. I want him to. For reasons

He’s been teaching Parker 🥺

Rip Hardinson

“Pilates or yoga?” Nate is so good at playing the ditzy asshole. Like he already is an asshole so it’s fun to see him play it up for cons

Hardinson talking about his special golf balls is so sweet but I have no idea what some of the words he is saying means but please keep talking sweetie

Rucker talking all polite but oh you can feel the anger in it 😂😂😂

ELIOT

YESSSSSSSSSSS YESSSSSSSSS

Jesus Christ what the fuck Rucker

YEAH ELIOT FUCK THEM UP

Parker’s little disguise 😂😂😂

Sophie :( chicken fried steak is good

“I can see you’ve had some training.” “…..some.” yeah some is right 

That’s a nice headshot, Sophie

Awwww Eliot 🥺 he needs to stop acting all soft and nervous I wanna squish him

ELIOT EPISODE! ELIOT EPISODE! ELIOT EPISODE! 

Sophie >:( pork rinds are good

ELIOT MY BELOVED!!!! He needs to stop being so sweet 🥺 Hardinson watch out

“White people doing white people things” 💀💀💀

Ok and how are they gonna steal a concert 🤨

Jesus, dude can’t you be nice :(

HEEHAW??????

Hardinson needing to check his name tag 💀💀💀

is that how tv works???? <- genuine question 

JIMMY YOU SNITCH

JENNY YOU SNITCH

ah shit

Tank, aka the dude who almost killed Mark. hmmmmm ‘spicious

oh come on, Rucker, playing your cards so soon??? you are going to let the con men know you know????  rookie mistake

Ok wait were they actually going to hurt Sophie >:(((((

Ugh Nate stop doing that!!! You didn’t have to let them know about Parker or Hardinson (BUT HE DOES IT BECAUSE HE CARES AND I KNOW THAT BUT NATE!!!!!)

Rucker really wants Eliot lmao

Rucker >:( 

Yessssss I believe in you Eliot (<- just wants to see him fight)

Ok uh, Eliot, I don’t trust this gym 

“I can take the punishment. It’s what I do.” Eliot what the fuck does that mean?????

I swear if they try to drug Eliot

BET IT ALL????? RUCKER????

Rucker that doesn’t sound legal

IF HIS WATER IS DRUGGED IMMA CRY

man I’m stressed

I want Eliot to win actually 

HE IS BLEEDING

NOOOOOOOOOO

I FUCKINH KNEW IT

is Tank dead????? 

OH SHIT 

ELIOT NO

NOOOOOOOOOOO HE IS SO SAD

of course he’s running lol

Ok but what if Tank isn’t dead and this was all a ploy

IS IT??????

I fucking knew it

PARKER

AND A SAX???????

I fucking knew the bet was through Hardinson!!!!!!

“Where’s your cousin Jinny now?” I LOVE HIM

AWWWWWWWWW happy ending 🥺🥺🥺🥺

YAY SHE LIKES PORK RINDS

General thoughts

ELIOT EPISODE!!!!!! It’s kind of sweet how we sort of know when each episode will focus on each character. Like Eliot is when they go rural, and Nate is if there are children. So I can now check off boxer after horse girl with Eliot ✅ and it’s interesting how can still see a strain on Sophie and Eliot’s dynamic but this time doesn’t have to do with betrayal but just understanding now. 

And ough the way Eliot plays the skittish dude who works under Nate out of debt for the com was just *chef’s kiss* I would have fallen for that persona instantly if he played THAG on me. The way this team would have conned me so bad if I was their target lol 

But yeah, this episode was so fun and I can’t believe I was fooled into the “Eliot got drugged” scene because these guys are smart!!!!! They would know he would play this and they just pretended like Rucker fooled them and AGHHHHH 🤧 lmao on to next episode 

[clementine-side-blog]

Burt Fabelman SFW Headcanons

Summary: My personal SFW headcanons about Burt Fabelman.

(A/N: Keep in mind that I have not watched the movie yet. I just really like the character from what I've seen. Forgive me if I get some things about him wrong. Also, not worrying about the time period. Modern au cuz I'm lazy! <3)

(Read Below For Headcanons)

Personality:

I feel like he is a very caring and kind man.

He's always thinking about others and putting their needs before his.

Extremely altruistic. He makes LOTS of money from being a computer engineer, so he likes to donate to charities every now and then. He also volunteers at food banks occasionally.

Hates being alone. After divorcing Mitzi, his house felt very empty. Sure he got to see the kids every now and then, but when it was just him it felt terrible.

Very polite, timid, and gentle. Though, when provoked, he can be pretty intimidating. He doesn't tolerate disrespect.

He makes dad jokes a lot. They're terrible. His humor is just cheesy dad jokes and funny pictures of animals. He'd definitely scroll through Facebook and look at all of them.

He's a very patient person, but you don't want to push his buttons too much.

Burt is a fairly smart man. His IQ is maybe around 100? It's slightly above average.

The way he talks is very eloquent and professional, no matter who he's talking to. It's just how he is.

In a relationship with him, he's always spoiling you. He's basically a sugar daddy, but like, you two are actually in love.

He's a little self conscious about dating you, especially since he's not a Spring chicken anymore. Because of this, he tends to get jealous pretty easily. Don't take it personally though, he trusts you. It's just his own insecurities.

Hobbies:

He loves model trains. In his basement he has a few mini models on shelves. If you let him, he could talk for hours about them.

He is a huge cinephile. Originally, he started to watch more movies to be able to talk with Sammy about his passions. But that grew into a hobby, and now he's just as passionate about cinema as Sammy is about directing. Some of his favorite movies are: Fight Club (but he HATES the sex scenes); Brokeback Mountain (he cried during it); American Psycho (he read the book originally, so he watched the movie after. he knows its satire and that's why he loves it.); Castaway (he just rlly likes this movie).

He does not play video games, but in a relationship with him, you do. It might not be a hobby for him, but he enjoys to watch you play.

Baking is a fun hobby of his. He really loves to make brownies and macarons. All of his treats are bomb asf.

Taking care of his front lawn/backyard is something that helps him relieve stress. Plus, he actually enjoys it.

He doesn't listen to music that much, but when he does, it's these bands: Red Hot Chili Peppers; The Beach Boys; The Rolling Stones; The Beatles.

Random:

I can't really explain why, but I headcanon him as being in a relationship with someone who is the exact opposite of him. So like y/n would listen to metal/rock and is very hyper as opposed to Burt's mellow personality.

I think he'd also be in a relationship with an autistic and queer person. Literally fight me on it. Do you know how fucking wholesome it would be for him to go to Pride parades and get all dressed up for them? And always making sure you're not overstimulated in public? UGH SO FUCKING WHOLESOME.

Whenever y/n is driving somewhere with Burt, he lets them control the aux. He always regrets it though, because he swears you make his ears bleed with the music.

Took y/n to a Slipknot concert and felt like he was having a seizure. Bro did NOT take his eyes off of you. He saw one of the members use an empty barrel as a drum and hit it with a lit torch, and he rambled about fire safety. Though, he thought it was pretty cool...

Like I said before, Burt Fabelman LOVES to spoil you. He'll take you on super romantic dates, buy you merch for your favorite bands/shows/movies etc, and takes you to concerts.

He rarely ever cusses. The only time he really does is when he loses his temper (which is rare), or during intimate moments (sometimes).

His favorite color is blue.

You jokingly call him your sugar daddy and he thinks its funny. Though he never says you're wrong...

In the summer, he sees his kids every other week, but during the school year he only sees them on weekends.

[chaotic-super]

For Her Sake - Chapter 6

Read For Her Sake on AO3 here!

Alex climbs out of the cab and stares up at the L-Corp building, impressed by the sheer size and elegance of it and extraordinarily anxious about the interview she’s about to be attending with Lena Luthor, the CEO.

Kara has spent the last two days trying to convince her that the job is already hers and that she doesn’t need to panic because Lena has already offered her the position but after what Lena saw of her during their impromptu meeting, there’s no way she can believe she’s capable of anything.

She literally saw Kara carrying her because she was in that much pain and couldn’t walk but then again, she did seem pretty sincere when she was telling her about the accessibility of the buildings and it is a desk job so maybe she is just one of the less ableist people in the city. Well, that or she needs to make it look like she isn’t an ableist.

Kara hasn’t really said much other than that the job is doing paperwork at some downtown branch of L-Corp so she’s not really sure what to expect but she’s not complaining. She’s here to convince Lena that she’s more than capable of doing whatever job Lena wants her to do because she’s been out of action for too long and she needs to start making some money to support her family.

Alex still can’t believe she was so stupid to not have good insurance to cover her medical bills properly in the first place, she was a damn paramedic for god’s sake and she was always hearing and seeing the horror stories of people that couldn’t afford their medical bills, she just never thought that she’d be one of them.

She takes a deep breath as she strolls through the doors, tension sitting heavy on her shoulders as she clutches at her resume that she’s holding to her chest.

The woman at the front desk smiles politely at her when she stumbles over. “Um, hi. I have a meeting with Ms Luthor.”

The polite smile drops quickly. “Ms Luthor doesn’t do meetings on Thursdays, she never has.”

“I arranged it, could you maybe check? My name is Alexandra Danvers, I have a meeting about a job.” Alex stutters her way through the explanation, her heart pounding and her legs aching from the stress and the way she’s nervously rocking on her heels. “Please.”

The woman looks even less amused the more she speaks, her face deadly as her voice becomes much sterner. “We have a recruitment team for a reason, Ms Luthor doesn’t handle job applications, she’s a very busy woman this is a very large company. If you’re after a job you can always look at the vacancies on the L-Corp website. Please leave and have a great day.”

Alex’s jaw drops. What’s she meant to do now? She literally met Lena Luthor and Kara’s been texting her to confirm that she’s meant to be here but somehow she’s getting turned away before she even makes it past the lobby. Maybe this was all some sick joke, the woman Kara was with must have been some con artist.

Her eyes flit across the desk as she tries to find something to say, something that can convince this woman that she really does have a reason to be here but she comes up short.

The woman grows impatient with her. “You can leave the way you came in.”

“Please, can you just check for my name? If it’s not in your systems then I’ll leave with no trouble. I need this, please.” She begs, her resume crumpled around the edges and her watch ticking annoyingly on her wrist, reminding her that she is going to be late.

She’d planned it perfectly so she’d be a couple of minutes early but she hadn’t accounted for this so now she’s going to be late and she’s not going to get the job and Kara is going to have to keep breaking her back to provide for her.

The woman shakes her head, picks up her phone and presses a button, “security to the front desk please.”

Alex steps back, her eyes wide and frightened. “No, no. I’m going, I’m going. You can explain to Ms Luthor why I didn’t show up for our meeting, so have fun with that.”

She starts to storm away, insulted and embarrassed and angry.

“Alex!” Lena’s suave voice calls out as she’s halfway to the door. “Wait!”

Alex freezes where she stands, turning quickly to the voice she recognises from the other day. “Ms Luthor?”

“That’s me. Did you change your mind about the job? You look like you’re leaving.” Her eyebrows are drawn together, her confused expression looking out of place against her maroon three-piece suit and her slick ponytail.

Alex’s fingers pinch at the paper in her hands so tightly that her nails start to shred the paper. “Um, no. I kind of got kicked out. They said you don’t have meetings on Thursdays.”

Lena’s face goes through a few emotions before settling on annoyance. “Who?”

“The woman at the front desk.”

“New hire, it’s her first job and she’s already letting the power get to her head. Unfortunately, you’re not the first person she’s turned away that I have meant to be meeting with, I had to spend three hours on the phone last week apologizing to an investor and let her off with a warning because she’s new but for some reason, she’s got it in her head that I don’t work on Thursdays or something. I don’t know.”

Alex isn’t sure what she’s meant to say to that but it doesn’t matter anyway because Lena is striding her way over to the front desk.

“Hannah, I told you last week that you can’t just turn away people without checking the system, it’s lucky I came down here to wait for Ms Danvers that I caught her as she was leaving or else this would have been the second important meeting I missed because of your inability to do the job you’ve been trained to do. I’ll be speaking to your direct supervisor about this.” Lena keeps her voice steady but the words drip with the harsh sting of disappointment that even makes Alex cringe as she listens in on the conversation.

“Yes, Ms Luthor, I’m sorry. I’ll check the system from now on.”

“Good.” Lena snaps before turning her attention back to Alex. “I’m sorry about that, shall we head up to my office?”

Alex nods and Lena begins to lead them down a hallway and for a second Alex internally groans as she sees how packed the elevators are but then sighs in relief when Lena inserts a key that springs a private elevator to life. “Nifty.”

“Quite.” Lena smiles. “I haven’t heard anyone say that in years.

“It’s Kara’s fault. I used to be cool before I started living with her again, her weird speech rubs off on me and makes me look like a nerd like her. I blame the thousands of musicals and superhero movies she watches.” Alex shrugs.

Turning the conversation to Kara is a safe choice, a topic that can lead them into the more serious stuff later and is working in place of the boring small talk people stick to when they don’t really know someone.

Lena chuckles a little, standing casually with her hands in her pockets. “I can imagine, from what I know about her, she’s certainly a character.”

The elevator doors ding as they reach their floor and Lena takes her into her office, offering her a seat right away. Alex is glad for it because her legs are killing her and somehow she gets the feeling that Lena could sense it.

“Alright then, Alex.” Lena takes a seat in her office chair opposite her. “So, I’ll go over all of the details about the job and then you can decide whether or not you want to take it.”

Alex tilts her head in confusion. “Aren’t you meant to be interviewing me?”

“No, I know what you’ve done, I know your work history and qualifications.”

“Um, how?”

Lena panics as she tries to find a reasonable excuse for why she would know because she can’t tell her that she ran a background check on everyone Kara is close to. “Kara. She told me.”

“Right.” Alex nods, still a little puzzled. “I’m sorry, Ms Luthor—”

“Lena.”

“Lena. How do you and Kara know each other exactly? She’s never really mentioned you and suddenly you’re with her when I called her to get me and you’re offering me a job and I don’t really understand.”

Lena’s gaze rests on her open laptop screen for a moment, buying her a little bit of time to think despite the screen being blank, but Alex doesn’t know that. She hates lying, she always has but for some unexplainable reason, she’s protecting a woman that played a part in an attempted kidnapping.

“We uh, we met at CatCo. I was going to meet with Cat Grant about an upcoming project launch I need press for and while I was waiting for my meeting I got talking to an old friend of mine, one of Kara’s co-workers. She overheard me saying that I need someone for this job and I haven’t had much luck with finding anyone and she offered you up as a possible candidate. We didn’t have time to talk because of my meeting with Cat so I got her number and arranged for a follow-up.

“I picked her up during her lunch break, we were going to grab a bite to eat and talk it over, she’s quite protective of you want wanted to make sure it would be something suitable and she told me about your work history.”

Alex sighs a little, facepalming. “I can’t believe she grilled you about the job, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Lena sighs, glad that Alex is taking her words at face value. “It’s a nice thing to see, sisters, looking out for each other.”

“Well, thank you for the opportunity and thank you for driving my sister to me when I called her from the bar.” Alex feels the need to bring it up, to explain or maybe just to address it because it’s an elephant in the room.

Lena leans back into her chair, her shoulders dropping slightly from where she’s used to keeping them tight and strong when she’s in the office. “You don’t have to apologize for that. Honestly, if I was in your position, I probably would have done what you did to help my family. It just makes me want to offer you a job more and no, not out of pity. I can see that you’ve got fire and I need that.”

“You need someone with fire to do…paperwork?”

“Not exactly.” Lena starts. “You would be working at L-Corp’s secondary location in National City and I have found that there have been some not-so-savoury things happening there. I believe that the work and technology there might be being smuggled out and sold by someone there, possibly multiple people. I don’t know anyone there and there’s pretty much no oversight so I need someone who can do their job, resist temptation and report back to me to tell me what’s happening so I can shut it down as safely and as efficiently as possible.”

Alex raises an eyebrow, her lips pursed as she takes in the new information that has just been flung at her. “Oh.”

“This is why I haven’t been able to fill the position, I don’t know what’s going on in there and nobody wants to be on the front lines, which is understandable really.” Lena stands, heading over to her drinks cart and pouring herself a glass of water before pouring a second for Alex, not bothering at all to ask her if she actually wants one. “It’s why I also won’t blame you if you say no. I might be able to find another job somewhere in L-Corp but it could take me some time.”

Alex sucks her cheeks into her mouth, accepting the water Lena offers her without thinking. “I’ll take the job, I kind of hate how much more interested in it I am now that I know I get to be a spy. What is the actual job though? The paperwork part?”

“Oh, that’s mostly just logging the time spent on specific projects and comparing records to check for discrepancies. There’s a lot of undone paperwork there from the microbiology department and for some of it I need someone with a background in biology so they know when the documents have been filled out correctly or when the scientists have just written nonsense to get it done.” Lena feels kind of dumb that she forgot to tell Alex what the actual job is.

“Oh, that sounds kind of interesting,” Alex says, sounding fairly sincere although Lena is aware that it sounds mind-numbingly boring.

Lena doesn’t call her out though. “There’s another catch though.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ll need you to gain more qualifications if you want to progress in the company over time. We can set you up with classes at a local college, tuition handled but it has to be out of office time, is that all right?”

“You’re offering me a job and further education? And you want to pay me? I’m in, no more information needed.” Alex can’t believe her luck. More education will give her so many new opportunities that even if the job is terrible she can stay just so she can get the free college course.

Lena smiles for the first time since she got here and it puts Alex at ease slightly, Lena’s toothy grin is a little bit goofy in a way that it doesn’t match her businesswoman persona at all.

“I am and like I told you the other day, though I’m not sure you’ll remember, we also provide childcare for all of our employees so if you ever need childcare for your niece, that will be covered since you live with your sister and share the address with Lori and Kara.” Lena goes on to explain. “The work days will be mainly Monday to Friday but depending on the scheduling for your college courses, we might have to rejig that so you can fit it all in.”

“Lena, you’re literally my favourite person on this planet right now and if it wouldn’t cost me the job, I would kiss you for how perfect you are.” Alex’s hands have come up to rest atop of her head, her fingers raking through her short hair as she shakes her head in disbelief at the opportunity that has just landed in her lap.

Lena shakes her head and holds her hands out in mock fear. “No, please, anything but that.”

“Well, I suppose I could settle for a handshake.” Alex sticks her hand out to Lena, happy when she takes it in her firm grip and shakes it once.

Alex can barely believe everything that’s happening and just sits there nodding her way through the onboarding process with Lena filling in a couple of forms and taking Alex’s ID to be added into the system.

Alex reads her way through the contract slowly and doesn’t comment on the obscenely high salary for the position, just takes it as a good thing so she doesn’t talk her way out of being paid that much. She does suppose that that kind of money is for the spying too though.

Kara is going to be so happy when she gets home and tells her that she got the job and that she’ll have the information about her new classes in due course. She’s so excited to see her little sister realize that their lives are back on the up and up again.

-

“Kara Danvers,” Alex says as Kara enters the apartment.

“Alex Danvers.” Kara returns, not looking at her because she’s searching for her little mini-me. “And Lori!”

Lori comes running up to her mom from the couch, leaping into her arms as usual. “Hi, Mommy.”

“Hi, baby.” Kara kisses the side of her head and makes her way over to where Alex is leaning against the kitchen counter, her body blocking something from her view. “What are you up to?”

Alex leans out of the way. “I made celebratory cookies because I got the job.”

“You did?” Kara grins, so happy that she starts jumping, Lori giggling as she gets swung around in the process. “Alex, congratulations! I’m so happy for you.”

Alex stops her jumping by wrapping her arms around both Lori and Kara. “Oh, we’re going to alright now. I can feel it in my bones. We can get back on track.”

Kara leans back a moment later, putting Lori down and sending her off with one of the cookies, taking one for herself too. “Alex, I think we’ve finally gotten some of our luck back.”

“Me too. Did you know about the whole spying job thing though that Lena wants me to do?”

“Yeah,” Kara says around the bite of her cookie. “I wanted her to be the one to tell you though since she’s the one who knows all about it. I figured you’d be into the idea of it.”

“I very much am.” Alex chuckles. “The pay for it is bomb too, almost 100 grand to sit in an office, do paperwork and be nosy, what’s not to love?”

Kara’s neck cranes forward. “I’m sorry, did you just say 100 grand?”

“Hell yeah, baby. Just you wait until that first paycheque, I’m going to get us out of this dump and into somewhere really nice, somewhere we can have our own rooms and Lori will be able to get back into her dance lessons and I can get her a keyboard so you can start teaching her piano and we can buy good snacks again. We can breathe again, Kara.”

“We can.” Kara smiles. She might not have succeeded with her original plan to kidnap Lena but she’s never been so grateful to have ailed in her life. It’s got them here. “Shall we invite Lena over for dinner one night as a thank you?”

“I think that’s a great idea.”

To read more chapters of For Her Sake, click here for my Patreon!

[memyselfandi2008-blog]

A Mind of Thoughts and Secrets (M)

(A/N): I just really needed more of Rick caring about Jerry, and Jerry finally getting some of his problems touched on, because I have a feeling it might never happen in the show. Also, if anyone is curious, I actually used the episode dialogue from the animatic version of the Whirly Dirly Episode. So at some point, they did plan to put that in, but it got cut for one reason or another.

Pairing(s): Rick Sanchez & Jerry Smith, One-Sided Jerry Smith/Original Male Character

WARNINGS!: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-Con, Rape/Non-Con Elements, Heavy Angst, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Sexual Assault, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder — PTSD

Word Count: 1,978

Summary: Jerry felt a ghost touching him.

Jerry sucked in a sharp breath, blinking several times as his vision adjusted to the bedroom that was being dimly lit by moonlight slipping in through the curtains. He sat up slowly, turning to stare at his wife sleeping peacefully beside him. Carefully, he got up from the bed, letting go of a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, trying to ignore the weight of hands on his body.

After quietly making his way downstairs, he paused at the bottom, watching the brightly lit moving pictures on the TV screen and listening to the faint sounds of voices mixing with soft snoring that he could only assume was from Rick. He silently debated on waking up his father-in-law, seeing if he'd like to move to his own room, but decided against it.

"You're too old to be so shy..."

Jerry bit back a flinch at the gravelly voice that rang in his ears, the hand on his thigh and the scent of cheap champagne hitting his nose. Shakily, he walked into the kitchen, digging through one of the cabinets to find a box of vanilla wafers. He opened it and began to eat, keeping his gaze on the floor, trying desperately to remind himself where he was—that everything was okay, that he was okay.

"The fuck are you doing up?" Rick's slurred voice filled the quiet of the dark kitchen.

"Oh," Jerry glanced up at him, body tensing, "Uh—I just—sorry, I mean, if I—I woke you up," he stuttered out, swallowing the lump that was forming in his throat.

Rick stared at Jerry with mild interest, then glanced at the box in his hand, "You gonna share?" he asked, pointing to the box as he approached the younger man.

"S—sure," Jerry replied, placing the box on the counter, "Help yourself..."

With that, Rick took the box and began to wolf down the snack, leaving the two in an awkward (or maybe Jerry just found it awkward) silence for several seconds, only being broken once Rick had finished what he had in his mouth, "You never answered my question," he said, "Why are you up?"

"I was hungry," Jerry lied, shrugging his shoulders, "Why do you even care?" he shifted his gaze to the side, "Thought you hated me, or something."

"Just tryin' to make conversation, Jer," the scientist replied simply, taking a bite of another wafer cookie. He would have thrown back some insult, or probably made a half hearted threat about something, but he was too tired and sober to really care.

There was another beat of awkward silence as Rick held out the box towards him, giving it a light shake. Jerry raised an eyebrow at the gesture, but decided not to question it, reaching into the box to pull out more cookies for himself. He had to admit, it was odd, the whole situation. Rick was being unusually nice to him—hell, if a stranger saw them, they'd think Rick actually cared about him. Maybe some small part of Rick did, now that Jerry thought about it. He briefly recalled the conversation they shared on their fake adventure together, right after the roller coaster crash.

"I survive because I know everything, that snake survives because children wander off, and you survive because people think, 'Oh, this poor piece a shit! He never gets a break!'" Rick ranted, gathering up various items off the ground to build his machine, "I can't stand the deafening silent wails of his wilting soul! I guess I'll hire him, or marry him, or have a drink with—" his breath caught in his throat, eyes wide at what he had just said—just admitted.

Jerry raised an eyebrow, "Wait, what...?" had he heard Rick right?

Rick glared down at him, "I said, suck my dick," his voice was unusually quiet, words coming out more defeated than harsh.

"Rick," Jerry spoke up, breaking the quiet in the room, "Can I... talk to you... about something?"

The question earned him a raised eyebrow, as Rick chewed the food in his mouth.

"Um, during our fake adventure together, you..." he rubbed the back of his neck, gaze shifting to the side, throat tight with nerves, "I just..." he felt tears start to form at the corners of his eyes, mouth opening and closing as he tried to think of something, anything to say instead of just standing in the dark with a stupid expression on his face. He just—he wanted to talk to someone about it. He had thought about bringing it up to Beth, but when he had brought it up, she didn't seem to understand what he was talking about.

"Jerry," Rick felt weird, awkward, as he watched his son-in-law start crying for reasons he couldn't even begin to imagine, "What—?" he paused, placing the box on the counter and shifting his gaze, reminding himself that he had to be careful, that this was an unfamiliar situation, and as much as he wanted to just dismiss Jerry like he usually did, this felt... important. He sighed, turning his focus back to the younger man, "What's... wrong, Jerry?"

His voice was quiet, gentle. It was a tone Jerry wasn't used to hearing, and probably never would be. He couldn't help the sob that left him, trying to ignore the hand pressing against his neck, tugging at his hair, lifting up his shirt, "Rick... I..." he tried to wipe away the tears that continued to flow down his face, "It was my fault, I should have done something, I should have—" he sucked in a shaky breath, stomach twisting into knots as he tried desperately to speak, to explain everything.

On any other day, Rick probably would have agreed with what he was saying, but something told him, some part buried deep in the back of his head, that now was not one of those days. He carefully reached out a hand towards him.

Jerry had to stop himself from flinching away. This was Rick, he tried to remind himself, this wasn't him.

"Jerry, hey, let's—let's sit down, yeah?" Rick spoke gently, placing a hand on Jerry's shoulder and slowly guiding him to the dining room table, "Take your time," he advised, briefly glancing at the glowing, green numbers that flashed on the stove, "We've got all morning."

Once the two were seated at the table, Jerry's sobs slowly shifted into whimpers as he desperately tried to think of some way to calm his loud heartbeat. Rick wasn't sure what to do, so he just sat beside him, waiting to listen. He briefly recalled what happened to Morty, and if he could, he'd probably do exactly the same thing he had in that situation in this one, but some part of him told him it was already too late to do anything, that the person that hurt Jerry was already dead in the dirt.

"Today's my birthday..." Jerry's voice was so quiet, Rick almost missed what he said.

The statement had caught him off guard, leaving him with an opened mouth that he couldn't quite form words with, so he was left sitting in silence. He wondered if he should have wished him a happy birthday, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that, for as long as he had known Jerry, he never mentioned his birthday. He hadn't even heard Morty or Summer mention it in passing yesterday.

"I used to like celebrating," he continued on, still so quiet, "It was just me, my mom, and my dad, but it was still fun..." he trailed off, throat tight, blinking back tears that threatened to spill from his eyes.

There was more to it—there had to be, Rick figured. He wanted to ask for more details, but he knew he didn't have any right to. In the end, none of it was his business, but he'd be damned if he just left Jerry in the kitchen by himself. It was obvious he needed someone to talk to, so, no matter how weird it made him feel, how awkward it'd be for the next few days, he'd be that someone.

"One day, he had gotten me this stupid card," Jerry chuckled softly at the memory, a small smile slipping onto his face, "It had some pun written on it, can't remember what though."

Rick briefly debated on asking who this "he" was, but thought better on it, remaining quiet. He watched Jerry's face, listening carefully to every word he was saying, waiting for the right time to speak, if he should speak at all.

"Sorry," Jerry muttered, looking up at Rick, "I just... I didn't hate the card, but remembering it now, it makes me sick," he gave a small shrug, trying to ignore the knots in his stomach and the guilt that settled in his mind, Rick doesn't care about you or your problems—no one does; you sound pathetic, "Looking back on everything, how much of a fuck up I am, maybe it was all my fault..."

"It wasn't—" Rick spoke up suddenly, surprising both himself and Jerry, "It... wasn't your fault."

There was a beat of silence as the words registered in Jerry's brain, blinking back tears that wanted to spill from his eyes because of the overwhelming wave of relief that washed over him. He had imagined hearing those words from Beth, his parents, but he never once thought he'd hear them from Rick; and yet, that somehow made them feel all the more true, genuine.

He found his voice, "Wh...at...?"

"Jerry, you're a—" careful, be careful. Rick closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before opening them and putting his attention solely on his son-in-law, "I've... never believed a damn word that you've said since I've known you, so..." he paused, silently hoping he was saying the right words, that he was saying what Jerry needed to hear, that he wasn't just creating a bigger rift between them, "Why would I start now?"

A chuckle, then a smile, "I..." a pause, "Thank you... Rick," and when those words left him, for the first time since they've known each other, a calm settled over them.

It accrued to Jerry that the calm would disappear, come breakfast, but a part of him didn't care. Despite all their bickering, despite the harsh words they'd throw at each other, the moment they shared in the calm was enough for him to know that some part of Rick cared about him, and that was just fine.

———

As expected, breakfast went on as normal. Jerry was cleaning up the dirty dishes by the sink, Morty and Summer had a small spat about who had to clean out the attic, Beth stared out the window, taking a sip of her wine, rethinking everything in her life, all while Rick tinkered with a device that he wasn't all too sure what he wanted it to do yet.

No one seemed to notice the shift in atmosphere between Jerry and Rick, at least not until the younger man suddenly appeared at his side, placing a glass of orange juice next to Rick's plate of food.

A silence settled over the table as the kids and Beth shifted their focus to the two men, waiting to see the outcome of the situation.

Rick flicked his gaze between the drink and Jerry, who simply gave him a small nod of acknowledgement before heading back to the sink to finish the dishes.

Beth turned her focus to her dad, opening her mouth to question what exactly just happened. She barely got her question out, before Rick suddenly stood up, grumbling about needing Morty's help with something in the garage as he picked up the drink and practically dragged Morty to said room.

[valya-dudycz-lupescu]

A Little Goncharov for Thanksgiving

I learned about Goncharov the way I learn about most memes and pop culture, from my teenagers. In the days leading up to Thanksgiving, we had a group chat spring up on Discord that included two family friends who were going to be joining us for the holiday from out of town. One of the topics of conversation turned to Goncharov, the imaginary film around which an active Tumblr fan community had sprung up, as if it had been a real, little-known cult classic from 1973 made by Martin Scorsese. 

It became a fun creative exercise—in the middle of the day, one of the kids would send a question about Goncharov: “What do you think about the relationship between Katya and Sofia?” or “What did you make of the clock tower imagery?” or “Goncharov… iphone or android guy?” To which someone else would playfully answer. 

This same kind of thing was happening on a massive scale on Tumblr, where artists created movie posters and promotional materials, composers posted songs and soundtracks, people posted deleted scenes and script fragments. There are reviews and academic papers, fictitious Wikipedia and IMDb listings, and A LOT of fan art.

Lynda Carter posted a photo on her Tumblr with Henry Winkler that she captioned, “Me and ‘The Fonz’ at the premiere of Goncharov (1973) at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre.”

Discussions popped up about the characters and who would play them in the reboot. Posts were shared hundreds, then thousands of times. A Goncharov (1973) Lore Google Doc and Discord server were created to help keep the content organized.

Our family’s fan-favorite character was Ice-Pick Joe, so I wrote “Musings on Ice-Pick Joe” in between chopping veggies for stuffing and waiting for the sweet potatoes to roast, complete with some AI-generated art. That was four days ago, and the post has been liked and shared more than I anticipated, and I keep thinking about why that is.

Conversations around Goncharov have continued, and I find myself wondering what it is about this moment in time and this type of activity that continues to capture so many people’s imagination and engagement?

Tumblr is a hub for public fandom culture and community in a way that the other social media platforms are not. It’s where you can find discourse and fanfiction/fanart for almost anything.

Still, this is a little different and on a much larger scale. At a time when people are looking for Twitter alternatives, with the stress and joy of holidays approaching, what is drawing so many people in?

We talked about this over Thanksgiving: the way Goncharov allowed people low-stakes permission to create, to play to their particular strengths, to connect with other people, to escape reality for a moment, to build a new community. We talked about the shortcomings and challenges we saw: power dynamics, issues of race, etc.

It’s an evolving experiment, and as such, it has been shaped by the many variables involved and course-corrected each time someone notices a gap or opportunity: What would a musical look like? What if some of the actors had gone on Sesame Street or the Muppet Show? What if Gonzo played Goncharov and Miss Piggy played Katya? What would the remake look like set in 1980s NYC? What recipes might be created for the Goncharov cookbook? (I remember how much fun we had making the Forking Good cookbook.) There really is no end to what people can come up with. I’m waiting to see if Goncharov gets a Tom Gauld comic or a mention on Saturday Night Live. 

It seems relevant that role-playing games, both online and tabletop, have recently increased in popularity. Dungeons and Dragons was the cornerstone of Stranger Things, and 50,000 people attended Gen Con (tabletop game convention) in 2022. It’s not my world, although I’ve watched the joy my kids take in it. My energy goes into writing, but I can absolutely appreciate the fun of playing together. 

As a writer, I walk around with worlds in my head, but I don’t get to share them until they get published. Something like Goncharov, which was not an intellectual property “owned” by anyone, gives people permission to imagine and play.

I think it speaks to a need we have an human beings to experience connection, joy, wonder, and hope. We've always had those needs. People have been gathering around fires or tables, telling stories, for thousands of years.

Today, the hearth may be a computer or a phone, but the desire is not that different. My November began with the publication of Mother Christmas, my graphic novel, the secret origin of the Santa Claus story which is rooted in the ancient Muses, whose gifts inspire humanity. One of the questions my story attempts to answer is: Where does inspiration come from?

If we look at Goncharov we can see that inspiration comes from so many places. So much is possible when people given themselves permission to play, to shrug off the inner critics and outer trolls, and to imagine for a moment a different world that they have a part in creating. That is such a powerful and compelling idea.

Stories remind us that we are not alone, that we share struggles, and that we can overcome obstacles. There are so many challenges in the world right now.

Maybe Goncharov is a lens through which people are seeing themselves and each other, reminding us how much fun it is to make-believe and how powerful it can be to have a shared image of the world.

The first step in creation is imagining. Exercising that muscle, allowing ourselves to play and tell stories and make art is a worthwhile one, and I think it's one that we need to survive.  The Goncharov phenomenon gives me hope, because if we can have this many people put their energy into creating a whole world around Goncharov, just imagine what else is possible?

[fixfoxnox]

Something In The Orange - Part 16

Description: Roach comforts himself through memories as the 141 learn more about how Price and Roach's plans came together.

Warnings: Implied dub-con, Depressed thoughts, Makarov

Note: I am also posting this work to my Ao3 if you would prefer to read it there!

Word Count: 7k

"Well I've been losing sleep

Like a man loses time

Reminiscing over memories

About to lose my damn mind"

"Losing Sleep" - Wyatt Flores

There was something easy about turning off his emotions. Something almost freeing about no longer feeling weighed down by everything going on around him. What reason would he have for worrying about his past when he knew that he only had a few more days left to live? 

Only a few more days left. It was what he kept telling himself as he allowed himself to be moved around by Makarov, playing the part of a loyal little dog who had no one other than its owner to turn to. Why would Roach be worried about Soap and Ghost when he didn’t even know if he would remember them in his next life? When he didn’t even know if there would be a next life to worry about?

Why would he feel as though he’d fully lost himself when he’d finally had someone open his eyes to the fact that he’d lost himself the moment he died? Why would he fight against Makarov’s hands tucking him against his side when he knew that it would all be over so soon?

The past several days had done nothing good for Roach’s mental stability. He thought that he would be able to handle what he was getting himself into. He thought that he would be able to handle hands pressing against his skin more frequently. He’d learned fairly quickly that it was much more difficult than he’d expected. 

There was a terrible sense of self-hatred that came so clearly with giving in to Makarov’s wants, to what he’d been grooming Roach to be. Of course, Roach could tell himself that it was all fake, that it was all done in the name of eventually killing the man and trying to keep himself alive. It didn’t change the fact that he was still killing people for Makarov. It didn’t change the fact that he was no longer fighting against the hands that seemed so keen to stroke over his cheeks or fix themselves comfortably against his neck. It didn’t change the fact that he had taken to listening to Makarov speak about his night terrors. It didn’t change the fact that he related to the man so easily. It didn’t stop his mind from wondering if Soap and Ghost would be disgusted if they knew what he was doing. It didn’t stop his mind from running circles around itself.

Roach was still awake when Makarov came this time. 

His eyes darted to the door when he heard the telltale sound of the outside lock clicking open. He’d discovered only recently that Makarov had been locking him in the room during the night, it was something the man had told him only days ago. 

He watched with careful eyes, his head tilted back, as the door to the room was lightly pushed open. He could see the stress on the other man’s face and he understood right away that he had come straight from another nightmare. There was nothing that would have given it away to outside observers, but Roach recognized the look as one that he had worn often.

He didn’t speak, instead, he pushed himself into a sitting position on the bed, scooting himself closer to the wall as he leaned back against the headboard. After a moment of quiet, he looked up at Makarov with a raised eyebrow and gave a small pat to the space next to him on the bed. 

The door was closed quickly after that, the lock clicking into place before Makarov was crossing the room and collapsing onto the bed. Roach didn’t say anything as the man grabbed at his hips, pulling him down the bed just enough that he could lay against him with his head against his stomach. 

Neither of them spoke for several moments. Makarov was lost in his head and Roach wasn’t much better, his mind heavily focused on trying not to let the disgust and hatred that he felt show on his face. He had to keep playing his part. After a moment, Roach had calmed his mind down enough that he was able to begin gently carding a hand through Makarov’s hair, carefully undoing the tangles in an almost affectionate manner. Beneath his hands, Makarov gave an appreciative hum. 

Roach wasn’t sure how long they sat like that, Makarov nuzzled into his stomach as his hands carded through his hair. It was easy with the silence for him to close his eyes and pretend that it was Ghost or Soap cuddled up to him. He recalled how, in his first life, he’d often found himself in a similar position. 

Simon, in his first life, had been haunted by his past. Terrible memories of those that he loved dying horribly plagued his mind both while he was awake and asleep. Roach had grown used to waking up in the middle of the night to his cries or his form hunched over at the side of the bed. Early into their relationship, he hadn’t known what to do. Sure, he sometimes had nightmares, but he knew that nothing he experienced could have come close to the thoughts that plagued the mind of the man that he loved. 

Eventually, he’d learned. He’d realized that most of the time, what Simon needed in those moments wasn’t to talk or to explain things, it was just comfort. The first time he’d pulled Simon into his chest, his hand massaging through his hair, the other man had sobbed. He’d tried to pull himself away from Roach numerous times, apologizing for his emotions. Roach had simply pulled him back with murmured assurance and comfort for the man. Eventually, Simon had grown used to Roach’s comfort. 

There were times when Roach would be woken with gentle hands on his skin. His eyes would meet Simon’s glassy and far away look and he would know immediately what the other man needed. It had been a process for Roach to get Simon to trust him enough to show his emotions in such a way. He knew that he would never betray the other man’s emotions in the way that Simon had worried he would. He would never belittle him. He’d just had to prove it. 

He wondered about the Ghost of this life. He wondered if he would gain some comfort from Roach’s touch in the way that the Simon of his first life had. He wondered about Soap. He wondered if the man would join in on their comforting touches, helping him to comfort Ghost through his own body weight and warmth. Imagining them made things much easier for Roach. 

Of course, his mind couldn’t so easily conjure their image when Makarov began speaking, so he was forced to come back to himself and the present situation that he found himself in. 

“Do you know how long I was an ultranationalist in our first life,” The words are a bit muffled by his shirt, but Roach understands them nonetheless. 

“Not exactly,” Roach responded carefully, “I know that before you took over the party, you worked under Zhakaev. You were there in the middle east when the nuke was set off.” Roach had to pause, thinking of Jackson and how much pain the man must have been in when he died. He hoped that Jackson was holding up okay and helping his family out, he hadn’t told the man about his plan beforehand, but he was smart. He’d likely figured out already what he’d done. 

Makarov gave a short hum, “I was Spetsnaz before I was an ultranationalist. I was forced to leave the military because of the West and the Russian government’s inability to do anything other than roll over to show America its belly.” His hands tightened against Roach’s hips. Roach allowed the movement for a moment before giving a slight tug to the man’s hair, reminding him to watch his movements.

“You joined Zhakaev after that?” The hands against his hips relaxed briefly, but he could still feel the digits there occasionally twitch into his skin. It was like Makarov was trying to hold himself back. Roach expected to have bruises by the time their conversation was over, but he didn’t mind. Bruises on his hips were far better than being choked again. 

“I had a…certain skillset. Zhakaev wanted to take advantage of that.” Makarov tilted his head up at Roach, a small grin on his face, “That was in the nineties. A little before your time if I understand correctly.”

Roach couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the man, “I was born in the eighties. Not that far off.”

“I was there when Captain Price tried to kill Zhakaev. Price and I had a long history.” Makarov pauses, his eyes taking on a faraway look, “I dream sometimes, of dying then.” He buried his face back into Roach’s stomach, “I can see him so clearly. He shoots Zhakaev and, before anyone can react, there is a bullet in my neck.”

“That didn’t happen,” Roach reminds him quietly, “It didn’t happen.”

“I can feel it so clearly,” Makarov’s voice cracks slightly, “It’s like he knows, somehow, what problems I’ll cause for him in the future.”

“I have dreams,” Roach started hesitantly, his hand pausing its movements for a moment, “Sometimes, of Shepherd. He kills me before Russia. Seeks me out and takes his time burning me with a cigar, cutting into my flesh, he taunts me as he does it.”

Saying the words out loud was almost cathartic. He and Jackson had spoken before, about the nightmares that they had. Roach had been too afraid to share this particular bit of information with the man. He thought that the nightmare was almost silly. He didn’t know why it was so easy to share with Makarov. 

Maybe it was because, within the last three years, Roach felt like Jackson had made so many improvements. The man was living his new life to its fullest, having managed to finally accept the fact that his old life had ended. Jackson had confessed to him that he couldn’t remember the last nightmare he’d had about the incident. 

To Roach, who still felt the claws of his past digging into his skin, it seemed wrong for him to continue placing the troubles that he was dealing with on Jackson’s shoulders. He didn’t want to drag the other man down a mental spiral with him. So he didn’t feel like he had anyone that he could speak about his troubles with. Anyone who understood him. 

Makarov was still struggling, just like he was. He hated that he and the man were so similar, but it was freeing to finally get to speak about the issues that had been plaguing his mind for so long. The thought made guilt weigh on his chest and threaten to bubble up from his throat. 

He cleared his throat nervously, letting his hand come to rest at the base of Makarov’s neck for a moment, “Was that what you saw tonight?” He kept his voice soft. He kept his voice filled with understanding. He kept his tone loving.

Makarov didn’t answer, instead, he stayed silent for several moments before, “Did you know that the war ended before I died?” Roach paused, of course, he hadn’t known that. He knew that Makarov knew that as well. He stayed silent. “Can you believe that? All of my work and the war didn’t even last a year.” He gave a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. Roach could feel the movement. He stayed quiet. “I thought, when the war was over, that Captain Price would leave me be or,” he paused for a moment, as though thinking, “at least not come after me for long enough that I could come up with some new sort of plan.”

“Captain Price is stubborn,” Roach paused, “Was stubborn,” he corrected himself quietly. “And, if what you said about killing Soap was true, he certainly wasn’t going to let up.” Roach resisted the urge to yank on the man’s hair and use the temporary pain he would feel as enough distraction to shove his thumbs into his eyes. He hated that he was speaking so casually with a man who had killed one of his friends.

Makarov gave a chuckle and looked up at him, meeting his eyes with something akin to amusement. It was like he knew what Roach was thinking. One of his hands came up to thumb at Roach’s chin. “I dreamt of being killed again. I dreamt of the Captain tearing my chest open with his bare hands, like some sort of monster. I dreamt of my throat being torn open.” He tilted his head at Roach, “What will you say to comfort me, Insect?”

“I’m not going to say anything,” Roach tilted his head at the man, “Not unless you want me to. I’m just going to be here.” He brought a hand up to cradle around Makarov’s, the one placed on his chin. He nuzzled into the movement. Around his own disgust for himself, he could see the reaction that it pulled from the other man.

Makarov pushed himself up further and nuzzled into Roach’s neck, his nose brushing against the still bright bruises that decorated the column of his throat. Roach allowed the movement, trying to keep his body relaxed and not show how anxious the action truly made him. 

He tried to focus on anything and everything around him instead. His eyes trailed around the room as Makarov settled himself against his shoulder. He watched outside the window for several moments, his eyes catching onto the stars that shone clearly over the mountains in the distance. He moved his gaze after a moment, shifting his focus as he felt his mind returning to the breath that puffed against his neck.

This continued for some time, the two men sitting in quiet silence as Roach let himself be used for the comfort of the man in front of him. It was hard to keep his mind distracted, so he had to frequently shift his attention to something different. It was inevitable, then, that his eyes would eventually shift down toward the bed. 

As he moved his eyes downward, he caught onto a glint of light against the hand that Makarov had pressed into his chest. His head tilted downward and his mind froze for several seconds as he took in the metal band that surrounded Makarov’s wrist. It was almost an exact copy of the one that had been placed against Roach’s skin. 

He couldn’t help himself, his hand moving up so that he could run his fingers along the little piece of metal. He could feel Makarov shift as he turned to see what it was that was touching him. Roach could tell the moment he realized what he was looking at, a small chuckle coming from his throat before he was burying his face back into Roach’s neck. 

“My half of the little collar I keep around you,” Makarov’s voice was low as he explained, “It monitors my heartbeat.”

Roach swallowed hard, his mouth gone dry, “If your heart stops beating?”

“You know,” Makarov responded. “If I die, you die, Insect. You know this.”

Roach did know, but the reminder of what he’d be dealing with in a few days' time still made his chest ache and a feeling of sickness creep up his throat.

“I am sorry, lad,” Price gave another apologetic look to Gaz after the younger man stepped away from him. He’d just brought him food from off base, and it didn’t take Price much to realize that the younger man was still worried about him. Price had pulled him into another hug before finally releasing him with another apology.

Gaz stood beside him and shook his head, “Stop apologizing Captain. I’m not mad.”

“You should be,” Price countered, “We lied to you. Made you think that I’d died.”

“And,” Gaz interrupted, “I’m just glad that you’re alive.” His head turned to the side slightly, his eyes drawing Price’s gaze to the two men sitting on the opposite side of the meeting room. “If you need to apologize to anyone,” he started in a quiet voice, “It’s probably those two.”

Price gave a deep sigh, he knew that Gaz was right. Though, he did suspect that the two were madder at themselves and stressed out over the situation with Roach than they were necessarily angry at him. Still, he knew that it was going to take time for the two men to fully forgive him for his deceit. He could only hope that it wouldn’t be too long of a time. 

Price looked back up at Gaz, his eyes narrowing at the young man as he asked once again, “You’re sure you aren’t mad?”

Gaz rolled his eyes, “Do you want me to be mad?” He gave Price a tilted grin, “I’m sure I could work up some anger if that’s what you want?”

Price gave his own chuckle in response, “No Garrick, that’s not what I want.” He paused, “I just want to be sure that you’re alright. I don’t know that I could handle you being angry with me for longer than a few days.”

Gaz finally moved to sit in the seat beside Price, “I am fine Captain,” he explained slowly, “Though, be aware that I am not letting you out of my sight any time soon. And if you fake die again, I’ll probably actually kill you.”

Price leaned back up in his seat, a grin on his face, “Don’t worry, son, I’ve got no intentions of pretending to die again.” 

“Why did you decide to do it in the first place?”

Price’s smile fell as his eyes darted across the table to meet a face of pinched anger. Though Soap had accepted that the plan had been Roach’s, he was very obviously still angry at Price. Both he and Ghost were clearly angry. Price hadn’t known how to handle them. “What?”

“Why did you decide to fake your death?” Soap gave a glance to Ghost beside him before moving closer to the table, his hands clenched on top of the smooth surface. “You’ve told us that it was Roach’s plan, but you’ve not explained how the two of you decided on the plan or why you decided on it.”

Price looked away from the man, no longer able to meet his harsh gaze that threatened to burn through his skull. He swiped a hand across his face, tugging at his beard nervously as he considered what to say. 

“Yuri woke up,” Price started softly. “Laswell and I interviewed him about what had happened while he and Roach were captured. He told us more about the interactions that Roach had with Makarov, mainly what he could hear.” Price tugged at his beard again, “He told us that it sounded like Makarov had made a deal of some sort with Roach. Like the two knew each other.”

“Roach didn’t tell us that Makarov had tried to make a deal with him,” Gaz nodded, “So that bit was true?”

“It was,” Price gave a nod. “I had gone to Roach’s room to confront him, he wasn’t there.” His eyes glanced briefly at Soap and Ghost. He knew very well where Roach had been that night and the other two knew it as well. He could see the guilt in their eyes, “I spotted him heading outside. He had this grin on his face and I thought that he might have been going to talk to someone, so I followed him. He just,” Price gave a motion with his hand, “Went outside to watch the sunrise I suppose. I’d never seen him so calm, so happy.”

His words were meant for the two people across the table. He needed them to know that Roach had been happy, truly happy with them. Even if it had only lasted for a few hours. “He,” Ghost’s voice was hesitant, “He looked happy?” 

“He did,” Price confirmed. “I confronted him about the issue with Makarov, held a gun up to him as he explained everything.” He looked around the group, “I’m not going to share what he said, what he told me. It’s not my place.” He cleared his throat, “What you need to know is that by the end of the discussion, I knew that he was telling the truth when he told me that he hadn’t made a deal with Makarov.”

“What then?” Soap asked quietly.

“We went to his room to talk,” Price rolled his neck, “He told me that he thought that Makarov wanted to make him out to be a traitor. He told me that based on what Makarov had told him, he thought that there was a traitor on base.” He shook his head for a moment, remembering the conversation, “I tried to tell him that we should explain everything to everyone. He was adamant that, even if we all knew what Makarov was trying to do, the man was going to succeed with his plan.”

“He wouldn’t have,” Soap said quietly. It seemed to be said more to himself than anyone else. “He…” he trailed off, his eyes downcast.

“He wanted to get us to Makarov. He wanted a way for us to take him out for good,” Price explained, “He thought the best way to go about it would be to give Makarov what he wanted and position ourselves to take him out.” He shook his head, “He thought the only way we could take out Makarov was if we beat him at his own game.”

“Play into what he wanted,” Gaz nodded, “I understand why Makarov would want you dead, but what does he want with Roach?”

Price took a moment, considering his options. He obviously couldn’t tell the team the entire truth, but he could share the conclusion that both he and Laswell had come to. The only issue was that he wasn’t sure how well the two men on the other side of the table would be able to take the information. 

“I don’t know for sure,” he settled on after a moment. “What I do know, is that he’s obsessed with the lad. Roach knew that.” He looked down the table, catching the gaze of both Soap and Ghost, “Listen boys, we didn’t do this to hurt you, or because we didn’t trust you. We did it because we didn’t feel like we had any other choice.”

“We could have helped,” Soap protested weakly, “We wouldn’t have believed that Roach would betray us.”

Price gave him a look of pity, “Soap, you have to understand, Roach was terrified that Makarov was going to get him to do something that he didn’t want to. Terrified that he was going to hurt one of us,” he paused, “Roach told me that he would kill himself before he let that happen. He meant it too.” 

Price could see the reaction that the words had on everyone in the room. Gaz had immediately covered his mouth with his hand, a flash of something upset across his face. Soap immediately stood from his seat, beginning to pace the room in a manner that gave away his stress. Ghost, he froze. Price watched him carefully, he could see the way that the man’s face crumpled, even through the mask. There was something else, something deeper in Ghost’s eyes that Price could see was bothering him. 

“I hope,” Price said after a minute, “I hope that you lot won’t hold it against Roach too harshly. He did what he thought he had to, all to keep us safe.” 

Quiet fell over the room for several minutes. Price watched his boys take in the new information that he’d given them, his eyes watching all of their faces carefully for any sort of break. He knew that if he saw even the slightest hint that one of them was going to spiral, he’d be across the room to comfort them in a second. 

When, after a few minutes, it seemed that everyone was going to hold together at least somewhat well, Price cleared his throat, “Listen, I know you’re all stressed from everything that's happened recently, but I need you all at your best. We ship out tonight and Roach is going to need us at the top of our game.” He looked around at them, carefully catching their eyes, “We’re going to bring him back in one piece. And we are going to kill Makarov.”

There is something easy about dreaming. Something safe about it. 

Roach didn’t really think that he could ever return to thinking that dreaming and sleeping were safe. He supposed that things changed when you had a terrorist haunting your every move while you were awake. Of course, it didn’t really matter, what mattered was that when he was finally able to close his eyes and let that haze of sleep take over his mind, he could slip somewhere far away from where he currently was. 

This night, his mind can’t decide quite where it wants to stay. When he’s first lulled into sleep, it takes him to the Soap and Ghost of his current life. This is where his mind takes him most of the time, he doesn’t quite know why. This particular time, he finds himself in the cafeteria on base, his head in his hand as he stares across the table at Soap who is ranting about something. 

“...the fucker had his eyes practically glued to your ass!” Soap slammed his fist down on the table, his accent growing thicker as he spoke. His eyes were glued to the man next to him. Ghost met his words with a roll of his eyes. 

“I highly doubt that MacTavish,” Ghost gave a bit of a grumble, but Roach could see the clear amusement in his eyes as Soap continued to rant. It was obvious that he was enjoying Soap’s bought of jealousy, “I think you’re imagining things again.”

Soap gasped, “I am not!” He shook his head, “I’m telling you, these new recruits have no sort of respect for authority. They were undressing you with their eyes. I heard one of them wolf whistle when you were going through the training course!” Roach couldn’t help the snort that left him at the image in his mind. He couldn’t exactly blame the recruits, Ghost was a very good-looking man. Soap’s eyes shot to Roach accusingly, “You think this is funny?”

Roach held his hands up in surrender and gave a quick amused glance at Ghost, “Of course not, Soap. Though I will say, this might be a good bit of revenge for what poor Ghost has been dealing with.”

“And what does that mean?” Soap gave a huff and crossed his arms. 

Roach let out a snicker as Ghost groaned from beside him, “Soap, usually when a new set of recruits come in and you help train them, Ghost is the one who’s dealing with,” he motioned his hands at the man, “this.”

“This?” Soap questioned, his eyes going a bit wide.

Roach tried to hide his laugh, but he failed spectacularly, “Recruits wanting to get into your pants, dipshit.” 

There was a pause as Soap froze, his face twisted up into confusion as though he honestly hadn’t realized that he was normally the one who the attention of new recruits fell to. “Me?” he asked after a moment. 

Roach face palmed as Ghost gave the man an exasperated, “Johnny.” 

“You really had no idea?” Roach asked after a moment. At a shake of Soap’s head he gave another choked-out laugh, “Soap, you’ve literally had recruits come up to you and ask if you needed help ‘warming up your bed.’ Did you think that was a genuine offer and not them propositioning you?”

Roach had his answer when Soap’s cheeks flushed red. He couldn’t help the laugh that pulled its way from his throat or the several other laughs that followed it. He was sent doubling over the table, practically wheezing. “Aye!” Soap smacked his arm as he continued to laugh, “That’s enough out of you. This isn’t about me! It’s about the recruits wanting to sleep with my boyfriend.”

Roach managed to calm his laughter after a moment, though the occasional giggle still left his lips. He could see the amused look that Ghost was giving him and he knew that the man had likely been close to laughing his ass off as well. “What Roach was trying to say earlier,” Ghost gave a chuckle, “Is that now you know how it feels to be jealous.”

Soap gave another huff, “I don’t like it. I want them to stop flirting with you.”

“And I’d like it if people would stop staring at your ass whenever we go anywhere new,” Ghost countered, “Unfortunately we can’t exactly control other people.” 

Roach gave a hum, placing his head back against one of his hands as he stared at the two men in front of him. He doesn’t know quite what possesses him to say it. Maybe it was a very horny ghost haunting the cafeteria that possessed him, or maybe it was just his filter failing him for a moment, but before he could stop himself he was telling the men, “I can’t exactly blame the recruits. You guys both have a nice ass. Hard not to stare.”

His face went bright red as he slammed a hand over his mouth. His eyes were wide and horrified as he met the looks of the two men across from him. Soap looked amused at his words, an eyebrow playfully raised at him. Ghost, on the other hand, was giving him a look that he couldn’t quite work out. He could only hope that it didn’t mean something bad. 

Soap gave a wiggle of his eyebrows at Roach, leaning further onto the table with a grin, “Oh, been taking a look have you, Bug?”

The situation reminded him of something from his first life. It was an odd thing to come to his mind at that moment, and he couldn’t quite see the connection he’d unknowingly drawn, but, before he could even blink the scene had changed in front of him and he was suddenly back on the base the 141 had stayed at in his first life.

He was in the training room, athletic clothes riding up his stomach slightly as he stretched his arms out above his head. He was one of only three people in the room, the same two men he had just been with spread around at different parts of the room. 

Ghost was sitting on the ground by his feet. He had leaned himself back on his hands, his mask discarded onto the ground next to him as he stared up appreciatively at Roach’s stretching form. His gaze made Roach feel a little warm, and the differences between this Ghost and the Ghost he’d just dreamed of stood out clearly to him. 

He turned his head away from Ghost, looking over his shoulder to where Soap, no, Captain MacTavish was checking over the rigging for some of the training equipment. His hands skimmed over the ropes and, despite the differences between the Soap he’d just been with and the man behind him, Roach found his eyes latching on to the movement. He had to clear his throat and look away from the Captain’s deft fingers tying quick knots into the ropes. 

He continued stretching, trying to keep his gaze away from Ghost as he moved. He listened to the noises behind him, Captain MacTavish’s quiet curses reaching his ears before there were footsteps making their way toward him. He gave one last stretch, bending down to place his hands flat on the ground in front of him before popping back up. He shot a smile at Ghost, but the man’s eyes were locked onto something behind him. 

Roach turned and met the gaze of Captain MacTavish. The man was staring down at him blankly, a dusting of red across his cheeks, and his mouth parted open slightly. It wasn’t until he called to him that the man finally seemed to snap out of whatever stupor he found himself in, “Captain?”

Soap shook his head briefly, his eyes glancing behind Roach nervously before he was meeting his eyes with a bright grin, “Ready for training?” 

There was a pause as Roach eyed him with suspicion before finally giving a nod. “What are we working on today?” He folded his hands behind his back, leaning forward slightly in interest, “Something with the ropes?”

Soap cleared his throat and turned away from Roach, beginning his way toward the rather nice training area that their current base had. It was some of the perks of being part of General Shepherd’s team. Roach stopped at the thought, his face twisting up slightly. He couldn’t believe he’d ever thought such a thing.

“Alright, Bug?” 

Roach’s eyes shot over to meet the concerned gaze of Simon. The man had pushed himself up so that he was sitting forward, ready to get up from the ground to comfort him if he needed. Roach only shook his head at the man, “I’m good, just a little nervous about what the Captain has in store for me today.”

“Oh, come on,” Roach turned his head to meet his Captain’s gaze. The man was waiting by one of the ropes in the room, this one with knots made in it to act as footholds, “I’m never too tough on you.”

Roach scoffed as he started making his way over to the man, “Sure, Cap, sure.” He stopped once he’d reached the man, looking at the rope in front of him with a raised eyebrow, “Upper body strength training?”

Soap winced slightly, “More like, training you to be able to climb any sort of Rope.” Roach met his gaze with a raised eyebrow, “Upcoming mission, we need someone who can climb.”

“And you landed on Roach?” The call came from Simon, the man pushing himself up from the ground to dust off his pants. He slowly started his way toward the two, “Surely there had to be someone else who could do it.”

“I want someone I can trust,” Soap dropped his head slightly, “Suppose you could do it if you wanted to Ghost?” Simon’s face twisted up at the thought, Roach had to stifle a laugh, “Might finally give you a reason for always lurking around Roach and I’s training sessions.”

“I have a reason,” Simon spoke quietly as he crossed his arms, his eyes shooting a playful glare at Roach’s smiling form.

“Other than ogling your boyfriend,” Soap spoke with a grin of his own. After a moment, he turned to Roach, “C’mon lad, up the rope. I’ll try to keep Ghost’s eyes off of your ass as much as possible.”

Roach’s face went a bit red, but he did as he was told and stepped up to the rope. He gripped the material tightly within his hands, as high up as he could. He gave a little jump then, pulling himself up to wrap his thighs around the rope and dig his feet into the knots. He continued up the rope in much the same manner, the knots on the material helping quite a bit with his progress. 

“That’s it, lad, use your legs a bit more.” The call from Soap had Roach shifting his position slightly on the rope, moving so that he could dig his feet into the rope better. Immediately he could feel the difference, his arms getting a bit more of a break between his movements. “Good! Keep it up, you’ve only got a little bit more!”

After a few minutes, Roach reached the top of the rope. He smacked the metal at the top tiredly, taking a short moment to rest where he could grip at metal rather than the stinging material of the rope. He looked down, seeing both Simon and Soap looking up at him, watching closely. He couldn’t help himself, a grin crossing his face as he called down, “How does my ass look from down there?”

It was Soap who playfully called back, “Fucking phenomenal, Roach. I’m a bit jealous of Ghost here.” Roach gave a bright laugh, completely missing the way that Ghost’s eyes had turned to Soap with a warning glare and the way that Soap had shot him back a quick apologetic glance. Within another few moments, Roach was beginning his descent down the rope. 

He dropped himself back to the ground fully, landing between the two men with a bright grin, “How was that?”

“Good,” Soap responded with a smile of his own, “Let’s move you to a rope with no knots and see how you do.” Soap stepped around Roach and Ghost to move quickly over to another rope. 

Roach went to follow him but was stopped by a gentle hand on his arm. He gave Simon a questioning look, his eyes searching the seriousness that had taken over his boyfriend’s face. He didn’t have time to find an answer, before he could react Simon was pulling him closer, tilting his head back, and slotting their lips together firmly.

Roach melted into the kiss, a small sigh of happiness leaving his lips as his hands came up to wrap around Simon’s neck. Their lips slid together quite nicely, little nips being thrown in by Simon. It wasn’t until the other man’s tongue invaded his mouth that Roach remembered himself, pulling away from the man in front of him with his cheeks stained red.

He gave Simon a quick peck on the cheek, ignoring the way the other man was trying to pull him back in for more in favor of making his way over to Soap. Soap was waiting for him at the rope, his eyes turned downward as though there was something quite interesting on the floor in front of him. Roach didn’t catch the look that he and Ghost shared as he grabbed onto the rope in front of him, ready to climb. 

The scene faded again and suddenly Roach found himself pinned to one of the training mats, Simon hovering over him as he pinned his hands to the ground. Roach could feel himself go hot at the position, he ignored it in favor of pouting up at the man above him. “This feels like it was done on purpose.” He squirmed a bit under Simon’s grasp, the man gave a groan and was quick to pin his legs with a glare.

“Careful, Bug,” he rumbled out, his voice dropping into something deep. 

“You told me to do whatever I could to get out of your hold,” Roach countered with a playful grin, “I was just doing what you told me.”

“You better not try that out in the field,” he grumbled, “that should be a technique against me, and me alone.”

“So you admit it’s a good technique?” Roach replied with a grin. He laughed brightly at the way that Simon’s face twisted up in annoyance at his teasing words. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Roach turned his head to see Captain MacTavish standing at the door to the training area, papers in his hand as he watched the two closely. Roach gave a sigh as he looked at the man, dressed down enough that he could admire how good he looked in the jeans he was wearing. “I have some papers that I need you to sign on, Roach.” 

Simon pushed off of him with a huff, crossing the room to his water without looking at Soap once. Roach sat up, watching the two closely for a moment. He remembered when this was. Captain MacTavish had made a jokingly flirtatious remark toward him a few days prior and now Ghost was pissed at the man. The thought of Ghost being upset at Soap for flirting with him made Roach feel a little frustrated, but he quickly reminded himself that this was a memory from his first life when the idea of being able to be with both of the men in front of him hadn’t ever crossed his mind. 

Roach pushed himself off of the ground and quietly made his way over to Soap, taking the papers offered to him as well as a pen. It was nothing special, just confirmation on the reports that he’d turned in a few days prior. He finished off the papers quickly and handed them back to Soap. 

Soap shuffled through them for a moment, “Excellent, thank you, Roach.” He turned to leave, but paused when his eyes caught on to something, he turned back around, “Oh, if you need someone to spar with to practice what Ghost is teaching you, just come and find me.”

Roach’s eyes widened briefly, he hadn’t remembered Soap’s offer, but he did remember the fight that ensued. He opened his mouth to respond, hoping to avoid it, but was beaten just slightly by Ghost’s clipped voice, “Absolutely not.” 

“I’m sure Roach can speak for himself, Lieutenant,” Soap shot back, “If he wants to spar, I’ll spar with him.”

Ghost whipped around to face Soap, his face slightly hard, “Watch yourself MacTavish,” his words were low and dangerous. Roach didn’t understand what was happening between the two men. 

Soap bared his teeth in return, “Same said to you, Lieutenant.”

Roach stepped between the two men, feeling anxiety creep into his bones as the two continued back and forth, their words growing more and more venomous as they neared each other. Roach was the only thing separating them. He didn’t remember this from his first life. 

Well, that wasn’t true. Roach remembered Ghost and Soap arguing, but he didn’t remember their arguments being so…serious. He certainly didn’t remember this argument about whether he could spar with Soap being so violent. The thought that perhaps he hadn’t seen how much the two men had actually been at each other's throats in his first life was stressful for him. So stressful that, as his hands pushed at each of the men to keep them apart, he found himself jolting up in bed, wide awake with the memory of yells ringing out in his ears.

A hand found its way to his face, rubbing over the skin there nervously. Roach didn’t understand why his mind had decided he needed to see that. His dreams had rarely if ever, painted his first life in a bad light. This was…new. 

Roach watched the sun rise out his window, wondering what exactly was going on in his head that would taint the memory of his first life like that. He didn’t think what he’d seen was real. Surely it couldn’t have been real? Surely Soap and Ghost hadn’t actually been so against each other at one point?

His mind stayed there, playing over the memory over and over, trying to convince himself that his mind had twisted it somehow. He couldn’t convince himself. He didn’t want to think about it anymore. He didn’t have to when, after a moment, his eyes keenly spotted several helicopters and planes crossing over the mountains.

He stood from the bed, making his way to the window to look out with wide eyes. Those were not choppers and planes that belonged to Makarov. Those didn’t belong to the base. His heart picked up speed. He tried not to get too excited and he tried not to assume that Price and the team were finally making their move. 

He didn’t have to assume when, moments after several of the planes passed by his window, he started hearing gunfire and explosions. 

He let a grin cross his face. 

Prev: Part 15

Next: Part 17 - Coming Soon

[daredevilexchange]

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See what this is about here, or if you’re using the app here.

What’s your fannish ID? Udekai! Friends call me Stu. Stu came from the first OC I ever had- which was essentially just a blue scribble with a bowler hat.

What types of fanworks do you create? I've done mostly art throughout my whole campaign, but fic has become a bigger and bigger thing over the years. I've always been good with literature, and when I was a kid, I wanted to be a writer. The only reason art got so big was because it's easier to doodle on the margins of your schoolwork than brainstorm a story. That turned into dabbling in animation; I only have the energy for a couple of those a year, but I feel like I've gotten pretty good at it!

What are your favourite types of fanworks, when you’re not creating? Nothing- and I mean nothing- beats a good AMV. Fics are a close second, but something about seeing something move in time with the beat of a good song is just beautiful.

What do you like in particular about this fandom? I definitely should have watched Daredevil sooner. I've been keeping up with the MCU since the first avenger and my cousin said "watch Daredevil." I said I love angst and my cousin said "please watch Daredevil. I started kickboxing as a means to cope with stress, and my cousin fell to his knees and begged me to watch Daredevil. I didn't actually watch it until I was reading Deadpool fics after reading all his comics, and found Team Red. I was enamored immediately. I came for the show and stayed for the people. So far, everyone I've met is an absolute peach. Everyone's extremely accepting, mature, and communicative. I'm partial to Mattfoggy as a ship, with some dabbling in Kastle. Best friends to lovers has always been my favorite trope, followed closely by hurt/comfort, so there's no wonder why that one spoke to me.

Do you like participating in fan events? I do! I didn't use to, because deadlines intimidate me, but that is a great motivator to actually. Yknow. Finish things, which I can have a little bit of trouble with. They've been teaching me to be okay with publishing things that I haven't had the chance to pick apart and overthink. I'm also making way more than I would be without somebody offering ideas and schedules to work on. I've never done a con, nor do I really see myself doing one in the future, just because I get so flustered when fawn over my work.

What about your creating process? It's a different story every time! I live in a kind of chaotic environment that I have very little control over, so I tend to opt for headphones to keep out noisy distractions. Sometimes, though, even that's a little much to work around, and I have to go find somewhere quiet. My process with fics would make every literature teacher I've ever met weep. There's a fic I have right now that's 250k words, and the planning document reads like I just scrawled it on the walls of my living room. It helps with writer's block sometimes to just type out a stream of consciousness, all of the "uhms" and "no that doesn't make sense" included. As for inspiration, half the time I start out with a single scene in my head and build around it. That goes for fics, animations, and art. I like to get heavy with parallels between canon and whatever I'm doing, and by the end, I can almost guarantee me brain's a massive cobweb of ideas. I find being comfortable is also really important. And I mean physically comfortable. I steal the computer chair to write at the kitchen table for its back support, because when I create, I do it for literally days on end. I try not to begrudge myself the 20 minute scrolling breaks; pressure to work on something always has a way of taking away the enjoyment, and by extension, my ability to actually think creatively. And coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.

Do you interact a lot with other fans? I do! I've always been in a lot of discords, but now almost half of them are Daredevil related. I've got my beloved mutuals on Tumblr, and all these people who participate in events. I'm not exactly wanting for company, but anyone who knows me can vouch that I'm a little bit of a social butterfly.

Is there any particular piece you'd like to showcase for this post? That 250k fic I mentioned earlier: Incarnate. I mention it because it's my pride and joy and because I need to finish it.

Do you have other fandoms you'd like to talk about? I tend to do one fandom at a time. They take up my entire headspace. No vacancy.

Where can your fanworks be found? I can be found at Udekai on Ao3 and Tumblr! https://archiveofourown.org/users/Udekai/works I only post fics on Ao3, but you can find art of mine under #my art!

Thank you, @udekai !

banner by @context-is-for-kingpins !

[ladylooch]

Does lucie call lio 🥺 I KNOW she gets back with Connor but when

Ma’am i am spiraling 😭

Welllll, they happen at different times. But here is her resolution with Lio to start.

Lucie shows up at the apartment later the day of Connor’s visit. Connor answers the door.

“I’m here for Lio.” She says immediately so there is no questioning. He nods, stepping aside for her to walk in. 

“Lee, Lu is here.” Connor calls as he heads back to the kitchen where he had been making a sandwich. It takes all of his control to do so. He wants to get on his knees, beg for her to reconsider their break up. But this visit isn’t about him. He can wait another painfully long day.

Lucie watches him in the kitchen, wanting to go sit on the counter next to him while he folds ingredients together into the perfect meal. He’s so good at that. He learned how to cook from his dad and the joy it brings him always made Lucie want to watch him do it. 

I love him, she thinks to herself. Why did she do this to them? Everything that felt so stressful a few weeks ago, feels worse without him, and not important compared to the loss of his love.

“Hey LuLu.” Lio says from her left. She pulls her eyes away from Connor to him. “Wanna walk and talk?” He asks, sensing her turmoil. She can only nod for fear of sobbing her answer.

“I’m sorry about last night…” Lio starts. “I would never do that to you, Luc. I was trying to help Con and thought he would like the places we were planning to go. Her friend showed up without either of us knowing. Connor didn’t even do anything with her.” 

“I know. I was upset and took the blame out on you.” Lio wraps an arm around her shoulders, stopping them so they can hug. 

“You feel a million miles away from me right now.”

“I have to be. Otherwise you’re in the middle where you asked both of us not to put you.” Lio can only sigh because she is right. 

“How much longer is this going to go? Like is this forever?”

“I don’t know. It all feels really stupid right now.” She squeezes her eyes shut as tears come out. “ I just want him to hold me. And forgive me.”

“Lu, he did the moment the words left your mouth. He wants what is best for you. Always.”

“This sucks. I have the biggest final of my college career tomorrow and Connor is the only thing I can focus on. I’m going to fail. What will I tell my dad?” She has large tears collecting on her cheeks that Lio wipes away. 

“You could murder someone and your dad would still love you. Why are you so worried about that?”

“I never want him to be disappointed in me.”

“Look what that is doing to you. You’re not perfect, Luc. Stop trying to be.” Lucie nods, knowing he is right. It sounds so easy when Lio says it but she isn’t sure how to do that. Lio understands what it was like to grow up in their family with the extra attention and expectation. 

“Do you have time for pancakes?” Lio looks at his watch and nods.

“Yeah, but we have to stay in the neighborhood.”

“Okay, Al’s?”

“Duh.” He keeps his arm hooked around her shoulders as they walk to the little diner they found drunk one night with Connor.