#dream/claire would have her hair down but when it gets Serious

[mahikamihan]

hhhhno thoughts only roller derby

[little-lily-w]

The fact that he popped out of nowhere made Claire genuinely scream. Damn boy, how did he manage to be so silent? The four other casettes she had collected as she waited went flying in the air when she sensed the electricity hitting although, luckily for her, the walkman was still safe and sound in her other hand because she was sure otherwise, there was going to be a new attack, this time on her skin. Her body moved almost unwillingly to run away again, trying to go through the adrenaline of being trapped by two shelves and a man she came to realize, she didn’t really know in the first place. However, his stern voice cut her off. Little thrilled gasps escaped her mouth as she recovered from the surprise and then she chuckled, realizing his face had turned stern as well, making him look way older than he was in reality. 

“So...”, she smiled teasingly. “I made your cold ass warm up”. The little laugh she let out was brief and interrupted by the snatching of the walkman. “Hey-”. Claire stood for a moment in silence, fearless eyes looking into his. There was no intention of escaping again, she just waited there, analyzing any possible gesture. No sign of flinching, no shakiness, not even a biting of lip that spoke of nervousness. Just that calm serious face behind the front locks of hair getting in between. And his honey slit-eyes. “It’s crazy. Your body makes you seem as if you are hopelessly frozen in time. But your eyes... even in the dim light... they look like your soul is screaming to live”. The woman was genuinely surprised. She had the ability to sense things, perhaps the same quality that made her have premonitory dreams from time to time although she was convinced it was rather a curse than a blessing. Who wanted to know the future? Especially if the future was going to be like this. 

“I’ll take one and go with you. No traps this time”. She leaned down to grab one of the casettes on the floor and with the same fast hands, she moved the original casette of the walkman to the elastic band of her skirt. Once he realized about the change, if he wanted it back, he would have to share the device with her. But for now she smiled, letting him lead the way to the exit. 

“So... how long will it take to get to our destination?”

---

The Beach wasn’t exactly what she expected. Not because it looked more like an empire than a center of hope for refugees but because of the loud music coming from somewhere inside. Electricity? Party? However, they didn’t really get the chance to put a foot in the domain because Niragi and the same other men were standing outside, almost as if they were waiting for them. Claire sighed as they both walked closer to them, no other alternative left. 

“Well, look at that!” Niragi exclaimed out loud. “Miss Wings and the gentleman of the year, Mr. Chishiya”, he laughed earning similar mocking faces from his ‘friends’. “A little late. You had some fun on the way? Maybe screw around a little bit?”. The chuckles from every men standing there at Niragi’s words, made a knot in Claire’s stomach, threatening to turn into nausea. As the tall monkey realized she was trying hard not to look at them or saying something back, he turned to Chishiya, clearly wanting to start an argument. “Hatter wants to see her. But tomorrow morning. He’s now entertained with some hot chicks. But she can go and get herself comfortable in your room”, he explained sarcastically. 

“W-what?”, Claire whispered, not understanding. 

“Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention, Little Bird. We’re running short on space here and since he’s become your knight in shining armor and he has to keep an eye on you...”, Niragi eyed the woman up and down, letting his silence do the rest of the talking. “Unless you want to sleep back in the trunk. Or in my bed for the matter. But you’ll scream louder there”. 

At his new wave of laughing after his disrespectful words, Claire clenched her molars, making fists at each side of her body and tensing her muscles, ready to snap...

@cheshire-shuntaro​

Premonition

Ending the game was another nightmare. Even if it was the second one she participated in since the world changed into this parallel one where no man and no rule meant safety for its habitants, it still managed to affect her. Not that she hadn’t witnessed people dying before but those were mostly willingly involved in businesses that had a clear fate: wealth or death. These games, on the other hand, didn’t discriminate. They went for everything and everyone, including people that had never known true violence until they were face to face with the borderlands. Claire, a name she chose to call herself after her troubled past, took a deep breath before exiting the building. Even if the limit of the outside zone was erased, she still waited for the few survivors of the spades game to go past the laser. Always cautious, she learned to live like that. Couldn’t afford not to be, especially when she had been escaping her whole life. Born as a gipsy woman in Andalusia, member of a family reigned by one of the most powerful household heads, she grew up absorbed in their culture. Pride of her father, a beautiful daughter well versed in flamenco dance and with her own status, she was coveted by more than half of the best young privileged sons. But since she learned to read hands with the help of her beloved mother, she knew her fate didn’t augur well. She predicted the flight the night before it happened. One of her premonitory dreams made her understand there was no going back. And the following evening, after her father had hit her mother once more and left the house for night adventures, they escaped. All the way through Italy and similar nearby countries, they quickly realized Europe was not safe. The father’s network was too big and exhaustive and even if danger wasn’t around the corner, paranoia only increased with time after a sequence of “jumpscares” and they left the continent. And now here she was. Alone in Borderland, with five more days to live, watching carefully the actions of the group of men standing outside the building who had also played with luck and stregth on their side. One of them looked like their boss, muscular and stoic, he must have been a soldier or perhaps a policeman because he was the one taking down one of the armed “cowheads”. The other one was a little aside. quiet and maybe as vigilant as she was. His face looked sharp but gentle, confusing to say the least. Claire couldn’t help but chuckle silently at the sight of his blonde messy hair. These payos*. And the last one reminded her of a monkey. Too loud and obnoxious with far longer hair and piercings ‘adorning’ his face. But the monkey caught her attention the most because he let go of the knife in his belt and laid it on the ground to readjust his waist. Exactly what she needed. A weapon. It was risky but it was more dangerous to go around with nothing to defend herself. With a stealthy walk, Claire made her way out the building and behind the group, snatching the knife and running away. She knew she had been seen because the monkey alerted the rest of them and it didn’t take long to hear their steps following her. Joder*. Don’t stop. Whatever you do, don’t stop running.

* * *

Shuntaro stood there outside the game venue, taking in the moonlit sky and doing his best to drown out the mumblings of the already half-drunk Niragi, bragging about how he almost certainly is the strongest of all of the people gathered there. Ridiculous, Chishiya thought, if it is what he will have to listen to for all of their ride back to the Beach he will gladly walk.

Aguni, as it is in his nature, simply stood there with his arms crossed, eyeing his precious guard dog sternly, possibly hoping that it will work in calming him down. But, alas, all of the other survivors of the game leaving the venue glued their eyes towards him while he was performing this tirade, waving his assault rifle around, endangering everyone around him. Knowing this monkey it probably had the safety off.

Chishiya rolled his eyes and begged for something stimulating to his mind to show itself on the horizon. As if a sign from the gods the sign did appear but in form of a petit brunette woman of darker skin, crouched and crawling towards Niragi's knife that lay on the ground. He tilted his head and looked towards other participants, they didn't seem to notice her. Shuntaro had enough of Niragi's rambling's so he simply leaned on the nearby wall and smiled slightly. This should be interesting, he thought focusing his eyes on the woman. A few more seconds passed and to his surprise, she did manage to snatch the knife under Niragi but the victory didn't last long. The monkey turned towards the floor and begun rotating along his axis, looking for his posession anxiously.

"Who the fuck took my knife?" — he yelled, eyeing the survivors that gathered around him

"That would be her." — Chishiya chuckled arrogantly, pointing at the woman's brunette hair dissappearing into the alley nearby.

"And you didn't say anything? You'll pay for that, you bitch." — Niragi's eyes narrowed as he clenched his jaw and then added, shouting. — "Let's get her, first to catch her gets the VIP lonuge on me."

Soon a tremor of about a dozen feet ran in the direction of the nearby alley. She stood no chance, simple mathemathics. But the evidence shoved that she fought bravely because by the time Chishiya lazely sauntered over there he saw two militants clutching their faces - one of them bleeding from his nose and the other one, well, looked like the blackeye would look terrible in the morning. He pushed his way through the couple of men and saw Niragi holding the thief by the scruff of her neck, the barrel of the assault rifle caressing her chest, a threat and also a demonstration of Niragi's view on women.

"Hey, look what I caught — a little bird! Chirp if you're scared, birdy." — he laughed viciously, tilting his head. — "Now, has no one taught you that you're not supposed to take what's not yours?"

* * *

@little-lily-w

[destourtereaux]

it was always you - jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: jj is your best friend, always has been... but things start to change when he asks you out on a (fake) date.

word count: 1.9k

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requested? yes, by @goldengoddess ; fake dating trope with jj where he confesses!

a/n: hi y'all, this is my entry for the lovely @pogueslandia's writing challenge! i really love this fic so reblog if you do too <3

prompt: "we can't be friends. i cannot just be friends with you."

Ever since that fateful day you’d run into Kiara Carerra at her family restaurant, you’d been a Pogue. It wasn’t up for discussion, it was a fact, plain and simple. You had just arrived in the Outer Banks, all alone aside from your parents, and she’d befriended you, then introduced you to her crowd. You had all hit it off immediately, and in the summer months that followed, you’d grown closer every day.

You loved their carefree energy more than anything. Whenever you were with your friends, you felt like you could conquer the world.

If you had to be completely honest though, you were always closer to JJ than any of the others. It was if the two of you shared a connection that no one else could even begin to understand. Often, you’d catch the blonde’s gaze and know immediately what he was thinking, resulting in a burst of laughter as you both realize. This happened commonly enough that all the other Pogues were used to it; Kiara would just roll her eyes, John B would glance over briefly, and Pope would just completely ignore it.

No matter how close the two of you were, there was one line that was never crossed. The friend zone line. Both of you took the “No Pogue on Pogue macking” rule very seriously, despite how many times JJ flirted with you or joked about how rules were meant to be broken. You couldn’t risk losing the best friendship you’d ever had, so it was worth setting this boundary. That’s why it was such a surprise when JJ came up to you one day and asked you out. Straight up.

Of course, he’s always jokingly doing it; a “you, me, the kegger tonight?” here and there, and a constant slew of pick-up lines, each one worse than the last...but this time there was no telltale smirk on your best friend’s face. He was dead serious.

“Y/N. I need a favour. Will you date me?” JJ casually asks out of the blue, stealing one of your fries at the same time. You slap his hand away to a resounding “Ow!” and squint at him.

“Say what now?”

“I think you heard me, Y/N/N,” he smirks. “But don’t panic, bub, it’d be a fake date. You know we’re just friends,” he continues, ruffling your hair.

If you hadn’t been so shocked by his question, you would’ve messed up his hair right back, but nothing could deter you from getting to the bottom of this right now. “What the hell does that mean? Fake dating? But why?”

JJ shakes his head as if he’s disappointed in your lack of common sense, “Well, you see. There’s a new girl, Claire, I think her name is. She’s got this really hot accent --”

“You’re telling me we’re gonna break the one rule we ever followed because you’re turned on by some touron’s way of speaking,” you stare at him, incredulous, “I always knew you were dumb but this has got to be a new record. JJ, we’re friends. Best friends. Nothing more than that.”

“I know, I know, but just… that’d make it more believable, you know? Everyone knows we have the potential to date so it wouldn’t be much of a surprise. And it’ll just be for a month. That’s only like 30 days. And I’ll take you on dates you’ve never each dreamed of,” he finishes with his signature grin.

“Whatever, just don’t come crying after our little plan doesn’t work, J. As long as it doesn’t involve us running away from the cops at the end, I’m in,” you finally reply.

He pumps the air and tackles you, pushing you down in the sand, but you’re not finished.

“JJ?”

“Yeah?’

“You’re so fucking lucky you have me as a friend.”

------

The first thing you two did the day after the deal was tell the Pogues that you’d started dating.

“No WAY!” John B’s eyes had widened, as he clapped JJ on the back. “Didn’t think you’d actually have the guts to tell her; good on you bro.”

JJ had coughed at this, momentarily losing the relaxed smile he always carried. But he had quickly recovered, and slipped an easy arm around your waist. The move felt innately natural, as if his arm was made to be holding you, was meant to be there.

Pope had simply congratulated the both of you, remarking “I knew this was gonna happen.”

On the other hand, Kiara’s reaction was somewhere in the middle, rather teasing. “I knew you two snuck off after that party once! I could never prove it but it’s finally amounted to something!”

She sent you a small wink, and you flushed, remembering the time you’d gotten so drunk you’d lost all inhibition and kissed JJ then dragged him away from the crowd.

“Just couldn’t keep your hands off me huh, Y/L/N?” JJ smirked at you, earning a jab to his stomach.

Weirdly enough, you felt a little burst of joy at each of their comments, but you brushed it off, attributing it to the adrenaline rush you always got from lying. It was bound to be heightened because these people knew you better than anyone...

------

It was nearing the end of the month. You and JJ had spent the past 20 something days keeping up this charade. There were fleeting kisses brushed against the cheek, the forehead, the lips, and longing gazes across the fire as its light illuminated both your faces. Often, you two would break off from the group and end up at an isolated place, where you talked til the sun set and night fell.

You were confused as to why this facade kept up outside of the public eye, but you never questioned it. True to his word, JJ’s dates were nothing if not creative, and you’d enjoyed every second of this crazy month. You almost didn’t want it to end. But that was silly.

Little did you know, JJ was harbouring the same thoughts.

This particular afternoon, you were sitting beside your best friend on the couch as he talked to John B about some random thing they’d seen the other day. After a few failed attempts at joining their conversation, you simply gave up. It was so hot, and you were feeling rather drowsy that day, so it was no surprise when you found yourself drifting off.

JJ only realized after your head landed softly on his shoulder. He glanced over quickly, and saw you there, eyes closed, clearly asleep. You were breathing lightly, and your hair was all askew, covering half of your face. He smiled softly, almost in spite of himself.

“What?” John B prompted.

JJ didn’t answer, only gestured at you with his one free hand. “Asleep,” he mouthed silently, “can you get a blanket?”

“Black what??” John B repeats, never having been one to read lips.

JJ rolls his eyes, and mimes putting a sheet over your body.

“Oh! Blanket,” the boy concludes, finally realizing.

JJ nods fervently, and his eyes widen as you shift your head in your sleep. He doesn’t want to wake you, you looked so peaceful lying on his shoulder, and if he was being honest, he quite liked the feel of your body’s warmth seeping into his. All of a sudden, he felt an urge to protect you, to take care of you and make sure you were happy. He wanted to wrap you up in his arms and never let go. He wished he could live in this moment forever, taking in the smell of your shampoo and the softness of your hair on his shoulder.

An hour later, JJ’s shoulder was beyond sore, it had become completely numb. The blond had refused to make a single move during that time in fear that you’d be startled awake, and so he’d sat there in silence, alternating between getting lost in his thoughts and studying you.

Luckily, when you finally woke up, he was not watching you creepily. Instead, you saw him staring straight ahead, at a picture of the two of you framed on the wall. You were grinning at the camera as he kissed your cheek, the two of you practically radiating joy. Seeing that moment again, JJ made a decision, and when he turned back around to check on you, he found you staring at him in curiosity.

Startled, he broke eye contact. “Oh good, you’re awake,” he murmurs, as if still scared to speak too loudly.

“Yeah I am! Sorry I dozed off on you -- oh god. Tell me I didn’t make you sit here this whole time,” you reply, mortified. “JJ, you didn’t need to, that must’ve been so boring, not to mention uncomfortable…”

“No, you’re fine, love. Don’t worry, I didn’t mind,” the boy reassures you, still using that soft tone of voice.

You shake your head, a little bit confused. “What’s wrong?” you prompt. After all, you were his best friend, and you saw right through him. Something was bothering JJ.

The boy coughs, then opens his mouth and closes it again. But in the end, his bravery won out. “Y/N… we can’t be friends anymore. I cannot just be your friend.”

The words might as well have been a bomb for how well they landed. Involuntarily, your eyes welled up with tears, and a strangled sound came from your throat. What did he mean?

“Oh, no, no. It’s not what you’re thinking, princess,” the blond quickly reassures you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Even in his own state of anxiety, he can’t stand seeing you sad.

“I can’t be the one you always talk about other boys to… the best friend you use as your wingman. I can’t stand by just waiting for someone else to take you away from me, and steal you away to who knows where. I want to be the person who makes you blush and laugh, the one you rant about at one of those girly sleepovers...”

You sit in shock, reeling from your best friend’s sudden confession. “But…what about Claire? That’s what this was all about, JJ!”

“You still don’t get it, do you, Y/N? There was no Claire. There was never a Claire. I just… it was always you,” he chuckles sadly, before opening his mouth to begin no doubt another self-pitying sentence, but he’s cut off by you pressing your lips to his in a bout of bravado.

“Shut up,” you smile against his lips, eyes shining, “you’re such a cheesy idiot, J.”

Your best friend's eyes widen before he begins to kiss you back, with a ferocity that makes you lose all sense of self, pushing you down onto the couch and propping himself up above you. It was as if the universe had been waiting for this very moment, like the final puzzle piece snapping into place.

“Yeah, but you love me.” And he was absolutely right.

The two of you are far too invested in each other to notice the footsteps approaching the room until it’s far too late.

“Ew! What the hell, you two -- I didn’t need to see this today," comes a disgusted voice.

“Get the fuck out Kiara,” JJ snarls, and throws a pillow at your friend as you burst into giggles.

------

tagging: @pogueslandia @maybanksslut @calaryssia @taylathornton @amordesiempre01 @ohhersheybars @jorja-cameron @msmarvelknight @hopebaker @princessnnylzays @willowpains @kaiparker1972-blog @nngkay @toji-dabi-wife @dannyclaire1975 @dylanobrienstoothbrush @cmrxac @lemur46 @rottenstyx @volleyballdood24 @pjnjzc @emmalvei-blog @duck2857 @oldschoolkiddo @jjswhore @mmoskova @charlottesalvatore @mardema

[roonyxx]

Stinky

Summary: After you’re covered in all kinds of dirty gunk from the hunt. Dean is happy to help you out in the shower.

Warnings: language, fluff, ghoul puke, smut

Pairing: Dean x reader

Wordcount:1686

A/N:  This was written for my beautiful and amazing wife @jay-and-dean​. She recently hit her 3K milestone and I couldn’t be more proud! So for Jay’s 3K celebration I chose Donna as my extra character and the prompt “I took 3 showers, the smell isn’t gone”. I hope you like it!

A/N 2: The text divider is from the very talented @talesmaniac89​

My Masterlist

With a towel wrapped around your hair you enter the warroom where Dean and Donna are currently drinking a beer.

“There she is!” Dean smiles as you come closer to the illuminated table and take the towel off.

An action that makes both hunters scrunch their nose.

“Jesus Y/n. Are you even using soap?” Dean says while waving his hand in front of his nose.

“Honestly, I never knew a ghoul could puke” Donna speaks up “I mean they stink in general, but this is a whole other level of stink.”

“I know!” you grunt and slump down in one of the chairs “I took 3 showers, the smell isn’t gone” you take a piece of your hair in your hand and smell it, “I will never smell good again. I’ll be known as ghoul puke girl forever” you pout and cross your arms while Dean is pouring out a drink for you.

“Did you try tomato juice?” Donna wonders “Or milk?”

“I tried” you sit up straight and hold out your hand so you can count on your fingers “dish soap, tomato juice, milk, baking soda, Sam’s soap, Dean’s soap, a mix of those two and coke”

“How is your hair still attached to your head after all that?” Dean wonders as he looked at your long hair.

“I have no idea but the coke did make it super soft” you shrug and take a sip of the whiskey Dean had poured out for you.

“I could always help you out in the shower” Dean wiggles his eyebrows at you.

You can’t help the blush that crawls over your cheeks at the thought of sharing a shower with the one and only Dean Winchester.

His wet skin gliding against yours, his hands touching you everywhere. Your lips would connect with his pecks, letting your tongue track a trail towards his sensitive nipples. Your fingers would dig into the soft flesh of his sides, moving them down to trail that little line of hair that goes from his belly button straight to his co-

A kick to your shin from Donna is what breaks you out of your wet daydream. She gives you a pointed glare and tilts her head slightly towards Dean.

She is the only one that knows about your crush on Dean, you often vent to her about how unbearable it can be to live with him. Especially on days when you bump into him when he’s fresh out of the shower. With a towel wrapped so low around his waist it would make a whore blush.

You could swear he did it on purpose.

“In your dreams, Winchester” you scoff.

“Oh yes” he wiggles his eyebrows even harder “definitely in my dreams, sweetheart”

You roll your eyes but internally you’re screaming. Dean has always flirted a lot with you, but he is a flirty person in general so you never took it serious.

“Sure. You want another drink, Do?” you ask your best friend.

“Nah, I should be heading back, I promised Claire I would help her with a vamp hunt.”

“Oh yeah, of course. Well thank you for filling in for Sam. You really helped us out” you get up and hug Donna.

“Always happy to help the Winchester and co” she smiles at you.

“We really appreciate it D-train” Dean gets up too and hugs her goodbye.

You go up the stairs with her and let her out of the big metal door. Securely locking it behind her.

“You’re up for a movie night tonight?” Dean asks as you reach the bottom of the stairs.

“Well it depends on whether you can bare the stench of me”

Dean steps closer to you, really close, he leans down and inhales your smell. He tries to suppress the disgusted frown on his face but it’s not possible.

“Oh god it’s still horrible” he half gags,  “come on” he grabs your hand and pulls you towards the bathroom.

“Dean I showered three times already, a fourth time won’t change it” you sigh.

“Did you shower with hot water?” he asks.

“Well yes, I hate cold showers”

“You have to wash with cold water, when you use hot your pores on your head open and the stink gets inside them. Orange juice works well too. Undress and get back in. I’ll bring the orange juice.” He’s out of the bathroom before you can argue with him.

You take off your clothes and get back in the shower. Turning on the water and setting it on a cool temperature.

“Stupid ghoul” you mutter when you stand under the cold spray.

You figured Dean would put the juice by the door, so when you heard it open and close again, you step out to take it.

You freeze in your tracks when you make eye contact with certain green orbs that quickly start to wander all over your naked, wet skin.

“DEAN! What the fuck!” you scream and try to cover up as best as you can.

“I…” he stands there frozen, with his mouth gaping like a fish on dry land, he is holding the juice bottle but his mind is unavailable.

He has often imagined you, how you would look under all those layers but his imagination did no right to you, you’re gorgeous and he’s completely stunned by your beauty.

“Dean! Stop looking!” you scream again as you jump back in the shower to hide, another screech coming from you when your back comes in contact with the cold water.

“I-I’m sorry. I- I came to bring the juice” he stutters.

“Why did you get inside! Just put it down and go!”

You don’t hear an answer, nor do you hear the door. Meaning he was still inside.

“Dean! Le-“ your sentence is cut short when he enters the shower, naked and his cock bouncing with every movement. He’s hard and big and red and oh my god…

“W-“ you look up from his impressive length to his face.

“I said I would help you out with your hair” he says with a smirk “Unless you want me to help with something else?” he steps closer to you until your back is pressed against the shower wall.

“Dean I-“ You don’t know what to say. You’re completely overwhelmed by him “what a-are you doing”

He cages you in between his arms and leans closer, his lips brush yours.

“Isn’t it obvious?” his voice drops lower. You love how his timbre trembles through your body. It sets you on fire and makes your core fluttering around nothing in anticipation.

“I want you” he growls before his lips crash onto yours.

His hand grasp the back of your thighs and wraps them around his waist. He pushes you against the tile wall of the shower, the cold water cascading over your naked bodies and it’s not enough to put out the fire that’s burning deep in your core.

His hard cock is rubbing against your folds, his hands are squeezing the flesh of your thighs and his tongue is exploring your mouth.

You’re clinging to his shoulders, lifting yourself up a little to rub yourself more on his cock. His lips trail down your neck and you arch your head back to give him more room to work. His lips leave sinful marks on your skin, it makes your core clench around nothing.

“Dean fuck me, now” you grunt, tired of his teasing.

“As you wish sweetheart” he lets one of your legs go to grasp his cock and puts it at your entrance.

When his tip is inside, he lets his cock go to grab your chin. He’s looking deep into your eyes, making you drown in them. You’re both panting heavily, your boobs pressing more into him with each breath.

He gives you a smirk and buries himself in one hard thrust completely inside you. Your walls struggle a little to accommodate to his size.

“Fuck!” you let your head drop back against the wall and feel his lips traveling down your chest to kiss and lick your boobs. He starts trusting deep inside you when he sucks your nipple into his mouth, moaning around the sensitive nub.

He’s pounding hard and fast, making your ass bounce against the wall. The burning stretch of his cock is like gasoline of the fire of your core.

“Yes Dean!” your hand fists his hair and tugs hard at it, making him bite down on your nipple.

Your legs wrap tighter around him the closer you get to your sweet release.

“I-I’m close” you pant, you move your head forward and kiss his neck, sucking your mark on him. Because you want him to be yours, you want the world to know you put your mark on him.

“Clench my cock baby” he growls in your ears and picks up the pace.

His cock is rubbing all the good spots deep inside you in the most delicious way, it’s not long until you fall apart.

“Fuck Dean!” your nails dig into his shoulders when you come, your walls clenching hard around his cock, milking him for everything he has.

“Yes Y/n FUCK!” with a final hard thrust, his cock twitches inside of you, coating your walls with his cum.

You hold him close when you come down from your high. You’re shivering in his arms because of the cold water. He reaches out and turns it to warm, making you sigh.

He cups your cheek and tilts your head to him to kiss you very gently. A stark contrast from pounding into you, just before. Slowly he lets you back on the floor so you’re standing on your own again.

He suddenly breaks the kiss and takes a step back with a smile.

“If you ever need my help again, you know where to find me”  and with that he steps out of the shower and leaves the bathroom.

You’re blinking rapidly, standing on your wobbly legs. Not really believing what just happened. But the soreness between your thighs is the evidence that it did happen.

Feedback is my fuel or buy me a coffee :D

[pinknatural]

From across the crowded room of the Roadhouse, Dean spots messy black hair, a flash of tan. His heart pounds, and he abruptly turns away from Jo, pushing into the crowd. He passes familiar faces--Rufus, Pamela, his father--but ignores them in favor of stretching onto his tip-toes, looking for a glimpse--there!

Heart in his throat, tentatively hopeful, Dean calls out “Cas?” as the crowd spits him before his best friend. He’d know those shoulders, that hair, those eyes, anywhere. Cas’s face scrunches, apologetic. 

“Dean,” he says, and his voice is wrong, ocatives too high, and Dean’s heart skips a beat. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Dean says. 

“I am not your friend,” the man says, in a twisted reversal of what Castiel had said to Claire Novak, years and years ago, and Jimmy Novak says, “I am not Castiel.”

Dean’s heart shatters, and he knows his paradise is lost. 

“This is garbage,” Becky says. She looks up from the manuscript in her hands. “Why would you do that to them?”

Chuck shrugs. He leans back farther on her couch, puts his feet up on her coffee table. He crosses his ankles and she tries to ignore the muddy converse sullying her furniture. She’d literally cleaned that yesterday, does he have no manners?

“They’re my characters,” he says. “I can do what I want with them.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to put Jimmy in Dean’s heaven,” Becky says, frowning. “That just seems cruel.”

“I am a cruel God,” Chuck says, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “I’m bored of them, and they were rude to me, so this is what you get. Hey, at least Sam got a long and happy life, right? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“No,” Becky says. “Well, not like that.”

“Hey, I even let him marry your self-insert OC who you’ve been fanfic-ing about,” Chuck says. Becky looks back down at the papers in her hands. 

“Is that who that was?”

“Obviously,” Chuck says. 

It’s not obvious. Becky bites her lip and looks at The Road so Far, which is just a massive pile of papers on her desk. Chuck wrote it to “catch her up” on what’s happened in Supernatural since he stopped publishing the books. She doesn’t really like most of it, but--

“What about Eileen?”

“What about Eileen?”

“Shouldn’t Sam have married her, instead? They were kinda perfect for each other.” Becky has grown since she tried to love-potion him. A husband, two kids, and eight years later Becky likes to think she’s mature enough to admit when some girl would be good for Sam--a hundred thousand words of self-insert fic notwithstanding. 

“No, it’s better for Sam to get out of the life,” Chuck says. 

“But in Carry On it says that Dean Jr was a hunter,” Becky says. 

“Yeah, well, you can’t stay out of the life,” Chuck says. “Ooh, do you think Betty should burn on the ceiling? For old times sake?”

“No,” Becky says. She pauses. “Well...what about Jack? This stuff says he’s God.”

“Obviously not,” Chuck snorts. “Unreliable narrators. I dissolved his power into the trees or whatever. He’s not anywhere, now.”

“Right,” Becky says. “So you killed Cas and then his son? And locked Dean away in heaven without him, but with his face there, tormenting him?”

“Maybe you should finish reading the manuscript,” Chuck suggests. Becky is sure that whatever she’s about to read is going to make Carry On a million times worse, but she looks down anyway. 

Dean’s face twists in pain, and the Shadow smirks with smug satisfaction. Oh, delicious agony. 

It stands up, admiring its work. Finally, everyone within its depths is asleep. Now that its work is done, the Empty can finally rest. It dissolves, vanishing into itself, and it leaves Castiel and Dean Winchester behind, sleeping side-by-side, each tormented inside perfect nightmares. 

“WHAT?” Becky cries, standing up and throwing Carry On onto the ground. 

“Good, huh?” Chuck asks smugly, crossing his arms behind his head. 

“No!” Becky says. “Not good! What was that?”

“Dean can’t go to heaven,” Chuck says, rolling his eyes. “No souls that have been to hell can go there. And you remember what Billie said in The Road So Far. Next time Sam and Dean kicked the bucket, well. Empty time. So Dean and Cas are together. Everyone wins!”

“Nobody wins!” Becky cries. “You mean all that heaven stuff was a dream? Did any of that really happen?”

“Uh, no,” Chuck says. “Obviously. Dean is just dreaming it all. Sam’ll meet Betty in about a week. They’ll have a summer wedding next year. Dean Winchester Junior will be born by 2025.”

“Are you serious?” Becky asks. 

“Yeah,” Chuck says. “I’m God. Everything I say is true.”

“That can’t be right,” Becky says. “You’re really gonna end it like this?”

Chuck straightens, one eye flashing black, the other glowing white. Suddenly, he looks deadly serious, and the squirrelly, scruffy guy looks like something more. 

“Yes,” Chuck says. “I’m bored of this game. The Winchesters have been defeated. Sam and Dean will be miserable forever. Both of them thought they won, but they didn’t. I win.”

He stands and advances towards her. Becky backs away, wondering why her, of all people, why does she have to be the person God runs his rough drafts by?

“What are you going to do?” Becky asks, hoping to get him monologuing, and he smiles, a terrifying twist of his face. 

“Whatever I want,” he says, then he snaps his fingers, and everything goes black.

[ao3]

[sheridans-dynamos]

4,8,19 for klaus please??

There you go, anon! Hope you like it!

4 Kissing on sofa, foreheads pressed together, breathy, soft tender. 8 “I don’t…i’ve never…been in a relationship and i’m going to make mistakes…I just need you to tell me. I need you to talk to me.” & 19 “God, you are so fucking cute.”

You were walking down the street at an unhurried pace, for once not being in a rush. Your life could be quite overwhelming sometimes, but no today. No, today was a day for you and only you. You'd started off by treating yourself to a nice breakfast, and then spent some time at your favorite bookstore. You were now headed back home for a good reading session.

You looked at the book in your hand, excited to get back to start it. As you lifted your gaze back to look at where you were going, your head twisted as someone familiar passed you by.

"Allison?!" you exclaimed, back tracking a few steps to get a better look. "It is you! Holy shit!"

"Y/N?" Allison paused when you called her name, and you saw the shock on her face as she recognized you. "It's been so long! How have you been?" she asked with a smile as she pulled you in for a hug. 

A grin appeared on your face as you held her back. You hadn't seen her in years, but Allison used to be your best friend. It hadn't been easy being friends with a member of the Umbrella Academy, as they were never really allowed much of a social life. But you'd found a way, and you two had been incredibly close for a long time. 

You had drifted apart when she moved away and became an actress, but you didn't blame her for it one bit. It wasn't anyone's fault, it was just the way life went sometimes.

"I've been good," you said as you let go of her and shook your head gently in disbelief. "I can't believe you're here. What brings you ba- Oh, shit. I'm sorry. I just remembered, your dad died. I heard about it on the news… I'm so sorry..." you trailed off, feeling embarrassed by the insensitivity of your question. 

"It's fine. I mean, you know how he was."

You nodded. "Yeah, I know. But still, how are you doing?" you asked.

"I'm okay. It is a bit weird, being back here, seeing everyone again." 

You nodded once again. "Ah yes, your siblings. How are they?" You went for a nonchalant tone, but weren't quite sure you sold it.

"Oh, you mean how's Klaus?" You gave her an indignant look and she laughed at your reaction, shaking her head slightly. "Come on, Y/N. I've always known you had this huge crush on him. It was obvious to absolutely everyone." You scoffed at that. "Except maybe to Klaus," she mused and you rolled your eyes.

"I do- did not have a crush on Klaus!" you exclaimed a bit too vehemently. "I was just wondering how your siblings were doing, like the good friend that I am!"

"Hmm, if you say so," she said with a laugh and you fought the urge to roll your eyes once more. Were you really that transparent? And not just now, but all these years? 

"Are you busy right now? I'd love to catch up some more. Do you want to come back to the Academy with me?" she asked.

"Yeah, sounds great," you answered her with a smile. 

You took a deep breath and tried not to overthink what might await you at the Academy and you started walking.

~

"Wow, this place hasn't changed one bit," you said as you looked around. You hadn't been here very often, only daring to come when completely certain that Sir Hargreeves wouldn't be present. But you still remembered a lot about it, as it had left quite an impression on you. 

Allison hummed in agreement as she watched you take it all in. You made your way to the living room, engrossed by everything around you, not noticing the person laying on the couch in front of you.

"Y/N?" You jumped back in surprise as you finally saw the man in nothing but tight leather pants on the couch who had scrambled up at your approach. A wild grin made its way onto his face as he took you in. 

"Klaus?" you said hesitantly and his smile grew.

He opened his arms and gestured at you. "Well, come on now! Get in there!" he exclaimed and you let out a little nervous laugh before complying. 

Klaus had always been quite affectionate with you, and that certainly hadn't helped your… situation. 

He really gives the best hugs, you thought, a smile forming on your face as you breathed him in. Then you saw Allison appear behind Klaus, giving you a knowing look and a small smirk, causing you to pull away and clear your throat awkwardly. "Right, um… it's good to see you, Klaus?" Your voice broke slightly out of nervousness and the statement came out more as a question than anything else. You cringed at the way you were acting. Why could you never just be normal around him?

"It is so good to see you, my dear. It's been way too long." The smile on his face turned a little softer as he plopped back down on the couch. 

Allison came to stand beside you, and you finally took your focus off Klaus, remembering you weren't here for him. You made it a few steps before turning around and sending a little wave his way as a goodbye. 

"God, you're so fucking cute," he mumbled. 

You didn't hear it, but Allison did. She whirled around to face her brother. "What was that, Klaus?" she asked, the knowing smile back on her face.

Klaus looked panicked and he quickly backtracked. "What? Me? I didn't say anything! Not a single thing!" He made a gesture of keeping his mouth shut and Allison laughed, knowing very well what she'd heard. 

"Actually, Y/N, could you wait here for a few minutes? I have to… call Patrick, yeah." At the look of confusion on your face, she elaborated, "My husband. Well, soon to be ex-husband. I have to talk to him about our daughter, Claire. I'll catch you up on all that after. Is that alright?" 

"Of course," you agreed. A few minutes alone with Klaus wouldn't kill you, you could handle this.

"Great," she said, smiling, and she left the room. 

You took a calming breath before making your way to the couch where Klaus sat. 

"So," you started, Klaus' eyes on you making you nervous, but you pushed through. "What have you been up to all these years?" 

"Oh, you know, this, that," he answered vaguely as he pointed at empty spaces, not wanting to delve into his checkered past with you. 

He saw you deflate at his lack of answer and quickly added, "But what about you? I'm sure whatever you've done has been a lot more interesting than me." 

You laughed at his poor attempt at changing the subject before answering. "Same as you, I'd say. Little bit of this, a lot of that," you teased with a small smile and he laughed with you.

"Okay, I get it, that was a lame answer," he said jokingly. "I just… would rather not talk about my past, if that's okay?" he added, a bit more seriously.

"Yeah, of course. Don't worry about it. Sorry I asked, it's none of my business, really," you agreed quickly.

"No!" he exclaimed and you raised a brow at him, surprised by his outburst. He winced. "That's not- that's not what I meant," he assured and you looked at him with a questioning look, willing him to continue. "I just don't want you to see me like that…" he trailed off.

"See you like what?" you gently asked, looking into his eyes.

"Like the piping hot mess that I am," he answered with a sheepish grin, gesturing at himself. 

"Klaus, no offense, but I already know how you are." He winced and you shook your head quickly to indicate you weren't finished. "I know how you are, and that has never stopped me from caring for you. You don't have to hide who you are around me, I won't judge you, ever." The genuine smile and relief on his face made you smile back at him. You thought back to what he had just said and added curiously, "But wait, why do you even care what I think of you?"

He cringed slightly as he realized the implications behind what he'd said. "Oh that?" His hand flew in a wild gesture, and you backed away with a laugh as he almost knocked you with it in the process. "Well, I may have been carrying a teensy weensy torch for you all these years?" 

You gaped at him, not willing to let yourself get happy before you confirmed. "Wait, are you being serious?" 

"Dead," he said with a small hesitant smile, and you finally let yours appear on your face. You grabbed him and pulled him close to you in a passionate kiss. You couldn't believe you'd waited this long to finally do this. 

You let your forehead rest against his as you gently pulled your lips from his. 

"Well, that was unexpected," he huffed with a small laugh and you smiled. "I've been dreaming of that since the first time Allison brought you in here." Your smile grew at his words and you kissed him once more.

"Was it like in your dreams?" you asked cheekily when you pulled apart for the second time, this time putting a bit more space between you two.

"No…" he trailed off and you began to frown before he continued, "this was much better." He grinned and you playfully slapped his arm at the short term worry he caused you. He laughed as he grabbed the arm you'd used to hit him, pulling you close to him to lay your head against his chest.

He began to run his fingers through your hair, and you closed your eyes, enjoying the moment. After a little while, he spoke up again. "I want to be with you. Like really bad. But I don’t…I’ve never…been in a relationship and I’m going to make mistakes…I just need you to tell me. I need you to talk to me.” 

You looked up at him, your eyes full of love. "Of course, Klaus. I want to be with you, too. It's gonna be okay, we'll figure things out as we go," you reassured him gently and he nodded, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You smiled against his mouth before a realization hit you. 

"Wait, where's Allison? She's been gone a really long time," you mused. 

Klaus let out a laugh, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "I'm pretty sure that her phone call was just an excuse to leave us alone. Give us the kick in the ass we both clearly needed." 

"Hmm you're probably right. She was just teasing me earlier about my feelings for you. But how could she have known this would work? She didn't know how you felt, did she?" 

He chuckled nervously before answering, "Ah, yeah, about that. I may or may not have said 'god, you're so fucking cute' after that adorable little wave you sent my way, and Allison may or may not have heard me, prompting her to immediately leave us alone." 

You laughed wildly at his antics, placing another quick kiss to his lips before saying, "Well, I'm definitely glad she heard you."

[riversongg]

Pairing: Castiel / Dean Winchester 
Warnings: Swearing (Is this a warning?)
 Word Count: 1087
 A/N: This is something I wrote a while ago and planned to post as a later chapter of a fic I started, but due to work/life commitments I haven’t been able to post in that fic as much as I would have liked, so instead I am just posting it here today to celebrate the 2021 Valentine’s day Destiel wedding!!!If you enjoy I would LOVE to hear what you think! 
 Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day after the events of Season 15 except Cas came back and no one dies. Dean and Cas get married and everything is soft.

Dean snuggles into Castiel, his arm around Dean’s shoulders where they lie. Dean has no idea how he ended up as the little spoon, but he’s too happy to care. He reaches up to Castiel’s chest, intertwining their fingers. He revels in the moment, in the feeling of pure happiness. But it’s more than that. He knows happiness, he’s felt it before. It’s a rare feeling, sure, but what he’s feeling right now is beyond happiness. It’s something he doesn’t think he has ever felt before.

Peace. 

He breathes slowly, deeply, closing his eyes and simply existing in Cas’s arms. He pulls Castiel’s hand to his lips and kisses the ring that is now sitting on the ex-angel’s finger. It’s cold against his lips, the silver standing out against the warmth of his husband’s skin.

“Mr Winchester,” Dean says with a smile. 

Dean feels Castiel untangle his hand from his as he reaches to cup Dean’s jaw. 

“Dean,” Cas says, his voice full of more warmth and love than Dean ever imagined he deserved. But he does. He deserves this. He deserves Cas. He leans towards his husband and their lips meet in the middle, soft and chaste but sure. A promise lingering between the two of them. A promise of tomorrow. A promise of every day after. They breathe each other in, eyes closed, content to exist in each other’s orbit.

“I don’t think I will ever be ready for this day to end,” Dean says as he pulls away. He leans back against his husband’s chest, hooking his left hand around Cas’s thigh. The arm around his shoulders gives him a squeeze, tight and reassuring.

“I know,” Cas says simply. “Today was the best day of your life.” Dean shoves him teasingly. “You know it’s true. Everyone you have ever loved, all in one room. Everyone happy, no pain…” He pauses. “Except when Crowley decided it would be a good idea to try karaoke.”

“Heh,” Dean laughed. “Yeah, no one needed to experience that, no matter what they have done to deserve it.” They smiled at the memory of that evening, a drunken ex-King of Hell swaying on stage to a terrible rendition of Air Supply’s All Out of Love. 

After a few minutes Cas presses a soft kiss into Dean’s hair. “You will see them all again tomorrow, you know.” Dean nods. “And Jack has given them all the choice to stay.”

“Cosmic consequences be damned,” Dean quotes, “yeah, I remember.” He sighs. When they told their son that they would be getting married, Jack had told Cas and Dean that he wanted to do something for them, a gift, to make their wedding the best possible day in existence. He’d been away for a while, busy revamping Heaven. Changes were coming, they could all feel that. 

Dean first understood the shift in their reality when Jack told them that he had offered all monsters on Earth the option to be “cured”. He had said that he didn’t want to force a cure on them, that it wouldn’t be fair to those who lived a good life. “Like your friend Garth,” he had told Dean, his face so earnest and hopeful. 

Jack explained that Purgatory would cease to exist. The afterlife would not be the same. Any demons in Hell who wanted to start again as a human would be given the chance. Everyone else would simply exist no more.

And the same thing was going to happen to Heaven. Dean remembers the way it felt when Jack had told him that the souls in Heaven would simply drift away into nothing, the way his heart felt like someone had taken ahold of it and squeezed, never letting go. 

But of course, Jack, kind and good as he is, had one surprise up his sleeve.

Everyone that Sam and Dean and Cas had ever loved, had ever cared for, had been brought back. “Cosmic consequences be damned,” Jack had said with a bright smile. “This is how it is meant to be.” 

Dean had felt happier and lighter than he ever had before. Everyone. They were all coming back. Holding Charlie in his arms, sobbing into her hair as she stroked his back had been a weight lifted. 

There had been a very strange reunion between Sam and Jess, especially when he introduced Eileen into the mix. 

Even John Winchester had been brought back. Castiel punched him on the nose in principle, breaking one of his fingers. That had been a fun trip to the hospital. 

“You will never be ready to say goodbye to any of them,” Cas says. “I understand.” 

For the most part, everyone was excited to stay on Earth, give living another go. Not many people get a chance at a redo, and this would be the last time anyone would ever come back. But Jack didn’t want to force people to come back. He had explained it would be unfair, especially after he understood how painful and difficult it had been for Mary that first time.

Some people had decided not to stay. They would stay for the wedding, for one last hurrah, of course. But on February 15th they would be saying goodbye.

Forever. 

“Hey, Cas?” 

“Yes, Dean?”

“You know I love you, right?” He hates how insecure he sounds. Cas laughs, his voice low and quiet.

“I think the fact that we just got married in front of all of our loved ones, Dean, tells me how much you love me.”

“Okay,” he says. “Just checking.”

“I love you too,” Cas says, “more than anything.” 

And Dean leans in again, kisses his husband with all the love and passion his body can muster. He wants to show Castiel just how much he is loved, cherished, valued. He wants to make his husband feel good, and happy, and pure. 

Things quickly become heated between the two of them, and as Dean sinks into Cas, becoming enraptured and enveloped in their passion, he allows his mind to drift back to earlier that day, to the one moment he never wants to forget.

Dean stands in front of his husband to be, hands joined tight between them. The Roadhouse has somehow been rebuilt - Dean reminds himself to thank the kid for that later - everyone he has ever loved sat in one room. Dean never imagined that something like this would even be possible. But here he was, standing before the person he loved the most in the world, ready to tell the whole world. 

“Castiel,” Claire says, because for some reason she insisted on officiating, “I believe you have prepared your own vows.” Cas nods to her, his face stoic and serious. Dean watches as he takes in a deep breath, preparing for the speech he has prepared.

“Everything I have done since the day I pulled you out of Hell has been done for you,” Cas begins. “Because of you. The good, the bad…” He trails off, a small smile growing on his face. He looks down, away from Dean, and lets out a small huff of laughter. “Yes I may have been misguided at times, made some bad choices.” His eyes reach Dean’s again. “But I did everything for you. All I ever wanted was a better world for you, Dean Winchester. I wanted to create a world that you would be proud of.” Dean squeezes Cas’s hands even tighter. 

“Dean.” Cas says his name so simply. It’s just one word, one small syllable. But the way he says those four letters speaks so much love and affection into the world that a part of Dean wants to run from it. It has taken him a long time to accept that he does deserve the kind of love that Castiel, ex-angel of the lord, and love of his life is offering, but sometimes Dean doesn’t know how to truly comprehend that he is allowed this kind of happiness. 

“I know for the longest time you have thought that I have only stayed by your side out of obligation,” Cas continues. “You feel, you worry, that I think I owe you something, and that is the reason why I stay. You taught me how to love. You taught me how to care, how to be human. 

“I know you still sometimes think that I stick around because it’s convenient. But every day, every moment of my life, it is an honour to be able to exist in your orbit. Knowing you has been the biggest pleasure of my life. Simply standing here, getting to exist next to you… It would be more than enough to make me happy until the end of time. But getting to be with you, to hold your hand, to look into your eyes, to exist with you, that is more than I could have ever dreamed.” 

Cas is well into his speech now, and Dean definitely does not feel his through tightening, a tear forming in his eye. Definitely not.

“I knew a long time ago that I intended to spend the rest of my life loving you. I have told you before that I learned to love everyone, the whole world, Sam, Jack, our family, because of you. But my love for you… That’s something I will never be able to quantify. It’s not only a part of me, but it has made me who I am. And I am so grateful that you have given that to me.”

Dean can feel his heart beating now, harder than it has ever beat before. 

“I want to spend the rest of my life loving you, Dean Winchester. If you’ll have me, I want to do it by your side, holding your hand as we walk Miracle, kissing you good morning despite your awful morning breath,” - that earns a chuckle from their audience- “pretending I like Led Zeppelin more than I actually do,” -and that earns a protested “Hey!” from Dean, a chuckle from Sam, and an understanding nod from Jack- “practicing my baking skills until I make the perfect pie… all of it. I want all of it with you.” 

“You are not only the love of my life, Dean. You are my life. My love, my joy, I would never have understood any of it if not for you. If you will have me, I will spend every day in the rest of my existence thanking you.”

And then Castiel turns back to Claire, giving her a small nod to indicate that he is finished. Everyone is quiet. Everything is still. No one moves.

Claire clears her throat and turns to Dean. 

“Well, shit Cas,” Dean says finally, a laugh escaping as a single tear manages to escape, “how the fuck am I supposed to follow that?”

Everyone laughs. And everything is perfect.

Read on AO3. Credit to @sunforgrace​ for the banner

[maribatshipper]

Miraculous Jiminette: String sequel

First

Marinette looks at Jim suspiciously. This is her “knight in shining armour”? He doesn’t seem to look like one.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Liam smiles.

Both panic, “No! Wait!”

But the young boy has already left, closing the trapdoor.

“So... Uh... Hi?” Jim smiles nervously.

Marinette shuffles on her feet for a while until Liam pokes his head back in.

“Just tell each other how you found out about me seeing the strings!” Liam frowns and closes the door again.

Marinette nervously giggles, “So, um... you know what he can do?”

Jim nods, “Yeah... I’m still having troubles believing it. How’d you find out about him?”

Marinette explains, “He’s my classmate. He’s actually the cousin of our resident liar, but unlike her, he’s usually quiet, reserved, and always speaks the truth. He was nice on his first day and we became friends. He finally snapped one day when his cousin said something about being soulmates with someone rich and famous. I followed him, concerned, and he spilled the beans. Turns out, the guy I had a crush on wasn’t my soulmate. Took a little getting used to, but I’m finally over him.”

Jim nods, partially understanding. He clenches his hand slightly where his amulet would be comforting him if he still had it.

“So he offered to tell me who my soulmate was by grabbing my string, I let him, and his first words were, “You have a knight in shining armour for a soulmate.” I still don’t believe him.” Marinette giggles.

Jim pales at those words, “A knight in shining armour?”

Marinette nods, “He gave me the best description he could, and drew what he saw, but it wasn’t that good, so I made my own drawing of what he saw and he said that it’s more like what he saw.”

She walks over to her desk and pulls out a drawing, which then shocks Jim.

(Art not mine. Credits to whoever drew it.)

Jim gapes at the picture, it looks just like him.

“So, how’d you meet Liam?” Marinette asks.

Jim puts down the picture and sighs, “I know this is gonna sound weird, but... I quite literally met him in a dream.”

Marinette giggles, then asks, quite seriously, “How’d that happen?”

Jim tries to explain without giving away too many details about his life, “My best friend died recently.” Marinette gasps as Jim continues, “I was mourning when I fell asleep. In my dream, I saw my best friend again, just about to die again, when this girl in a spotted suit jumps in front of him, saving him. She had this... yoyo, which she spun around so fast it was like a shield... When I woke up I found out she’s Ladybug, the heroine of Paris.”

Marinette exclaims, “WHAT?!” falling off her chair, surprised out of her skin.(You just imagined it, didn’t you?)

Jim asks, “Are you alright?”

Marinette gets up quickly and panics, mumbling incoherent words while she paces around the room.

“Are you alright?” Jim repeats.

Marinette snaps back to Jim and realises he’s still in the room.

Marinette nods, “Yes... Um... your dream?”

Jim continues, “She introduced herself to me and said something about I was going to know her as something, but she was interrupted by a strange butterfly man and a woman who looked like a peacock who attacked her.”

Marinette supplies, “Hawk Moth and Mayura. Our resident supervillains.”

Jim nods, “Yep. That’s what they said. Then two more people appeared. That dragon girl who helped save people today and a cat boy.”

“Cat Noir and Ryuko.” Marinette corrects.

Jim continues, “Anyway, Cat Noir and Ryuko battle Hawk Moth, and Mayura brings down her fan to kill Ladybug, but I jumped in front to save her, only for everyone to disappear, including my best friend. That’s when your friend Liam showed up. He said something about holding a soulmate string lets him communicate with the person on the other end by a dream. He also said the heroes are my soulmates too, but platonically.”

Marinette nods, “That makes sense. But, how’d you get here so fast? He only saw you yesterday from the string.”

Jim’s face pales. He really doesn’t want to explain that.

“It’s a long story that I really don’t want to tell...” Jim sheepishly explains.

Marinette nods, “Of course.”

***

Claire frowns at Liam, who is having a panic attack while being in the same room as this girl.

“How do you know Jim?” Claire asks, suspicious.

Liam tries to figure out how to tell the dark-haired girl and keeps glancing at his right ring-finger, which is still attached to hers. He’s tried to remove it, like one would a regular string, but it’s not working. How can he tell her that Jim can only be her friend? How can he tell her that he can see strings without her thinking he’s insane? How can he talk to her now he knows that he’s actually got a romantic soulmate?

“Okay, so, I’m Liam... and... I know things I shouldn’t because I see stupid strings!” Liam blurts out.

Claire stares at him, now just confused.

“What does string have to do with any of this?” Claire asks.

Liam slams his head into the table, mentally begging Hawk Moth to send an akuma after him just to get out of this conversations. He paces, completely worried. He’s never had an attraction to anyone, and he’s intimidated by this girl that’s supposed to be his soulmate.

“I don’t know how to explain it without you attacking me...” Liam mutters, partially hoping she didn’t hear him.

Claire asks, “What are you talking about?”

Liam sighs, “Okay, look. You know how everyone has a crush on someone in school through their lives, usually on more than one kid? Or maybe a crush on a celebrity? And some kids actually become girlfriends and boyfriends with their crushes? And they break up?”

Claire nods, “Yeah... so?”

“I never had that.” Liam frowns. “I’ve never felt an attraction towards people. I’ve never had dirty thoughts. I’ve never even had a celebrity crush. I’ve had admiration for people, but romantic feelings? I don’t know what it feels like. I’ve searched so long for at least one person to make me feel romantic feelings, but all I’ve felt is nervousness. And what makes it worse? I see soulmate strings!”

Claire stares in shock, then asks, “Soulmate strings? Are you serious?”

Liam frowns, “I’m afraid so. Do you know how hard it is to watch people who aren’t soulmates look at each other and try to become a thing? It just hurts! How can someone just watch people they know don’t belong together and just shrug it off? I’ve seen it all! I’ve seen strings snap, I’ve seen strings grow stronger, I’ve seen strings move from one finger to another! It drives me insane!”

Claire puts her hand on Liam’s shoulder, trying to comfort him as she watches him have a breakdown. She’s never seen a guy actually breaking down, except maybe Jim.

“And I can’t let people know because if they know I see the strings, they’ll call me evil, possessed, a liar, trying to break up a good couple for no good reason, and if they do believe me, they’ll break down because their lover is not-... I can’t.” Liam cries.

Claire rubs his back, trying to soothe him. She was going to get mad at him, but she realises he’s just trying to do what’s best.

Claire asks, “Have you... talked to anyone about this?”

Liam asks, “How? I’m a guy, so my emotions won’t be taken seriously, I see soulmates strings, and we live in a city where everyone has to repress their emotions or turn into a supervillain! So, please, tell me, person attached to my finger, How can I talk to someone?”

Claire blinks in shock, then looks to his fingers, trying to see what he’s seeing, but fails.

“I’m attached to your finger?”

Liam pales as he realises what he said. He runs out of the bakery, terrified.

“Liam! Wait!” Claire calls after him.

Before she can run after him, a crash is heard behind her. She turns to find Marinette sprawled on the ground, Jim coming down right behind her.

“Where’s Liam?” Marinette asks.

Claire answers, “He just ran out-... We need to get him back! He could get hurt.”

Marinette’s face twists into a look of horror, “Or worse... Akumatised.”

Claire and Jim exchange glances and go to ask Marinette when she races out the bakery, following where Liam went. Claire and Jim follow her.

***

Liam runs towards the Seine and breaks down. Surprisingly, no one is there when he breaks down. He collapses to his knees and hugs himself, feeling just broken. He remembers what his parents said when they found out about his ability.

“You’re just seeing things! This strings you see are all in your head! We’re worrying about your mental health because you’re obviously not making enough effort yourself!”

He whispers, “You’re obsessed with the idea that I should be more like others... You’re so crazy about being successful, and I’m just screaming inside. Now even my Soulmate will hate me too, because I’m breaking her and Jim up...”

He doesn’t notice as a butterfly lands on his chain bracelet and absorbs into it.

“Soulfinder, I am Hawk Moth... You feel the need to help people find their soulmates, but no one will listen to you. I shall give you the power to-”

Liam growls, “SHUT UP! You won’t give me power! You’ll rob me of my strength!”

“Rob you? I give you the power to show people who their soulmates are. All you have to do is give me Ladybug’s and Cat Noir’s Miraculous. Do we have a deal?”

Liam thrashes his head a few times, trying so hard to fight, but the temptation is too strong and he caves in. The ability to finally show people what he sees, and the ability to show people the love in their lives they’re missing. To be able to push people into searching for who they should be with, meeting their platonics and true romantics... to actually find their True Love... It’s just too much to say no to.

“We have a deal, Hawk Moth.”

***

Marinette runs towards Liam, calling his name, then she sees the neon butterfly on his face.

“Liam!” Marinette gasps.

Claire and Jim show up behind her.

“What’s going on?” Jim asks.

Marinette points to Liam, who’s thrashing his head around, the butterfly on his face coming with him. He finally stops, a terrifying smirk forming on his face.

“We have a deal, Hawk Moth.” Liam smirks.

A purple smoke/fog appears all over his body and he changes into a strange costume, his normally brown hair turning pink and blue, his eyes becoming a mixture of colours. His face becoming a pale blue colour. His eyes land on Claire, Jim, and Marinette.

“Liam! What’s happened?!” Marinette asks.

Liam walks over to the trio and replies, “I’m not Liam anymore. I’m Soulfinder. You didn’t make fun of me for what I could see, Marinette. You have nothing to fear, Nettie. My own family thinks I’m insane. I’ve felt trapped for years, with chains that felt like lead... I’m finally able to do what I’ve felt the need to do for ages. I can show people the truth!”

Marinette frowns, “But you could be breaking people up who’ve led very happy lives!”

Soulfinder frowns, “It’s better they know sooner than later!”

Soulfinder’s eyes glow a golden colour, sending that light all through Paris. Marinette shields her eyes, then opens them to see the strings on her right hand. On her ring finger appears a blue/silver string connected to Jim, and Jim’s side of the string is red and black. Marinette stares at her hand to see many pale strings that appear to have snapped as they drop to the ground, but many going all directions. She looks at Jim’s and Claire’s hands to see that some of the strings on their hands are connected to hers.

“Grab your strings!” Soulfinder smirks as he leaves.

Marinette frowns, slightly confused.

Jim hesitates, “We better do what he says...”

Marinette shakes her head and runs away, causing Jim and Claire to exchange confused glances.

***

Jim watches as Marinette runs away. His string is attached to her, not Claire. So that’s why he was so hesitant to tell him what he meant.

“So we’re just meant to be friends?” Claire asks.

Jim frowns, “Seems that way.”

He looks at his string on his thumb that’s limp and a dull shade of orange. He picks it up to see Toby. He drops the string quickly. Toby wasn’t just a platonic soulmate... he was a brother to him. A soul sibling... No wonder it hurts so much... He looks at the limp, dull blue string attached to his pointer finger... It’s obviously Draal’s. He’ll look at that later. He notices that many of his middle finger’s strings are limp.

“We have to help him!” Claire frowns, determined.

Jim nods as Claire creates a shadow portal, jumping into it towards where Soulfinder is. The two just hope they can help.

A/N: Holy cow, I can’t believe how long this took. I am so sorry. Have you ever had one of those moments where you’re so amped to write something, then, halfway through, you lose the amp? Because that’s what happened to me.

Answering a question, “Was Toby one of Jim’s Soulmates? I'm guessing no, because you said the three other heroes were his platonic soulmates, and you haven't mentioned what kind of string is connected to the thumb.” Honestly, the reason is because I’m lazy, and I’m not sure what kind of Soulmates to write about. But then I thought, “Wait, there’s platonic soulmates, but what about those people that are meant to be closer than friends, but not romantic? Of course! Sibling relationships!” It just worked. Also, when you brought that up, I noticed that there was nothing connected to the pinkie either, and I’m stumped for what to put there, then I thought, “Oh, it’s for the relationship between a soul parent and soul child. It makes sense!” So, adopting is because of the pinkie string!

Also, I thank you for putting up with my terrible writing.

Next

Tagging: @itspetitfantomestuff @belleyells​

[poe30]

Summer Love: Final Part

SummarySummer Love:  Julie’s older cousin comes for a summer visit from the east coast, unaware of just what she’s going to get herself into, while helping out. But she’s got a secret of her own, one she’s hid from most of the family, and it includes her 6th sense. Will she be able to help save the ghost band from their curse or will it all blow up in their faces? Especially when a summer love blossoms between one of the ghost boys and herself.Pairings: Ghost!Luke x Fem!Reader

~~~

The performance was much better than anyone could think of, everyone laughing as they walked towards the house, Julie excusing herself and headed towards the studio. [y/n] hummed lowly, assuring the other two she’d go check on her in a few minutes, letting Jules have a few minutes to herself, knowing what she was doing. Quickly, she had changed into something more comfortable, before making her way out to the studio, telling the two not to wait up for them. She couldn’t help but slow down, coming to a full stop when she reached the studio, her heart beating fast as she took a few deep breaths to try and calm herself down, only to grow confused when she saw a quick flash of glow from inside.

[y/n] couldn’t believe what was happening in front of her. The boys were glowing, almost like they were coming back alive in a sense. Her eyes going wide, is this what they needed to defeat Caleb with? Tears slowly pouring down her face when she realized it was indeed the missing piece her friends and her were looking for.

“I feel stronger!” Luke couldn’t help but be excited, catching er standing by the doors.

“Group hug!” [y/n] didn’t know how she got dragged into the middle of the group hug, but she wasn’t going to complain as she held onto Luke.

“I wonder if this will work on Willie..” Alex couldn’t help but try to be positive, as the group broke off, Luke’s arms not leaving her waist, as he held her close. “It’s worth a shot, right [y/n]?” Alex had hope in his eyes as they turned to look at the girl. The expression on her face, made them unsure and quite nervous for her answer.

“Its not gonna have the same effect, there will be complications..” looking over at him, she couldn’t help but grin, “But, it’ll work. An, I’ll need your guys help to make it work.” her tone turned serious, all of them instantly agreeing, not knowing exactly how this plan would go off, and she knew if they would find out what exactly she planned, they would a hundred percent disagree with it. Grabbing her phone, she leaned back against Luke, calling Rex once more.

“Come on...answer you prick..” murmuring to herself as it continued to ring, before he finally picked up. Not even giving him the chance to speak, “Plan is complete, I found the final missing piece. Tell the others the plan is a go for tomorrow night at the spot.” Smiling softly as she shooed Luke away from kissing her neck.

“Are you serious? That’s great! I’ll let them know. Rest up Queen, you’ll need it.” Before he hung up, ignoring the little questionable looks from Luke. Reassuring him, that what planned usually took up a lot of energy. It was true to a point, she wasn’t fully lying to him, it would take up ninety-nine percent of her energy.

“Well the bands back, congrats guys.” changing the topic, as excitement filled the air once more. The girls hanging around a little longer in the studio before calling it a night, bidding the boys a goodnight as they headed into the house.

“Never thought my little cousin would have powers, let alone that one.” ruffling Julies hair softly, chuckling lightly, Julie couldn’t help but ask what she meant about that. Falling back onto [y/n]’s bed, she placed her bag next to the bed before joining her cousin on the bed,

“You have the same power grandfather did. We call it the ‘Light of Life.’ The name is pretty much self explanatory, not everyone can possess that power. Its rare and even rarer for two members of the same family to have it.” She explained, leaning back next to her.

“Now that the boys have felt the power, they’ll slowly become human again.” murmuring out quietly, as she sighed.

“That’s good though, right? They can finally make their dream come true.”

“Yeah in a sense, we both know they’re too stubborn to cross over at this point even with the opportunity in front of them.” Staying in silence for a little, [y/n] sighed, “Get some sleep Jules, we’re gonna need it for tomorrow night.”

~~~

[y/n] hummed lowly with the music that drifted from the radio, the boys in the backseat as Julie had called shotgun, the windows down as she drove them away from the ocean. Her bag by Julies feet, as her fingers tapped to the music on the steering wheel, but was actually to help soothe her nerves. Even with having done this before, it was still always nerve wracking for her. Turning onto a dirt road, she ignored the conversations that was going around her, her being too busy to calm her mind. Throwing the jeep in park, she sighed as she leaned back against the seat, turning the vehicle off.

“Don’t be alarmed if my friends talk to you, they can see ghosts like we can.” Grabbing the bag, the girl got out, shoving the keys in her bag as they made their way over to four others.

“This is Rex, Ray, Sasha and Claire. Guys this is my cousin, Julie. Along, with Reggie, Alex and Luke.” the [h/c] colored girl did quick introductions, knowing it’d be best to get them over with. Sasha and Claire dragging the girls a bit away, letting the boys make some conversation.

“So you’re the one whose stolen our precious Ice Queens heart huh?” The question more so threw the boys off, before asking what they meant about her, chuckling softly at the trio the two boys explained,

“She usually doesn’t open up to others and can usually come off as cold and distant, along with being blunt.”

“Oh, yeah. I remember she was like that when we all first meet. She even threatened to break our bones.” Reggie admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, as the girls came back over.

“Sounds like something she’d do. You wouldn’t be the first ghosts she’d done that too.” Rex chuckled, causing the girls to roll their eyes as Julie stood next to the band.

“Can we just get this over with?” [y/n] sighed, letting her shoulders sag in slight defeat. She was just ready to get this whole damn thing over with. The other four quietly agreed, before they all started walked to the clearing, Julie motioning the boys to follow them. The five of them placed their bags down once they’d gotten to the clearing, [y/n] grabbing a book out of her bag and handing it to Ray.

“Now Jules, you know what to do right?” her voice ringing softly throughout the open area, as her cousin nodded, letting out a small ‘yep’. Luke, on the other hand, could only take in the sight of [y/n] underneath the moonlight. How the moonlight casted over her form, her [e/c] glowed in the dark when she glanced back at the group. He had definitely just fallen even deeper in love with the girl.

“Alright let’s get this show on the road. You’ll have about a half hour to forty five minutes to get this done.” Ray told her as they finished setting everything up. Humming softly, she nodded,

“That should be more than enough, Jules come here, you three too.” Her voice was serious as they all walked over to her, the other four standing off a little bit in a square around them.

“Alright, Reggie, Alex, Luke, place one of your hands on my arms or shoulders. It doesn’t matter which. Jules,” She held out her hand, as the girl placed her hand in her cousins, letting their fingers intertwine.

“Whatever you do, do not, remove your hands off my body. No matter what happens, keep them there.” Once all three boys did what she told them, [y/n] took a deep breath, giving them all a nod. The four of them instantly begin, as she relaxed her body,

“Try and stay relaxed and calm. Don’t freak out.” She murmured to the four closest to her. Already feeling herself get a bit lightheaded, letting her eyes close as she concentrated. Feeling a bit lightheaded, she squeezed Julies hand, letting her know to start. Julie sighed, closing her eyes as she concentrated, her body instantly glowing a gold color, soon enough the four boys started glowing as well, as it slowly seeped through [y/n]. With a bit of pain, she groaned as she stepped out of her body.

“God, that never gets easier.” She murmured, her outfit completely different from her jean shorts and tank top with a flannel. She was now in black ripped skinny jeans, a gray tank top with a black leather jacket. Rubbing the back of her neck, she let it crack as the four gaped, glancing between both of her.

“Just remember, don’t let go. Ill try and be fast.” with a snap of her fingers, she was gone.

“What the fuck just happened…”

~~~~

[y/n] hummed, poofing into The Hollywood Ghost Club. Chuckling a little darkly, she let a small smirk over come her face as she slowly walked down the hall, her nails making a noise as she raked them against the wall. Many of the ghosts she passed, backed away, sensing the kind of power she had, before she spotted Willie among them. Giving him a friendly smile, she nodded, letting him know it was time. Willie didn’t waste time as he ushered the ghosts to where the others where. Letting them poof out one by one before only Willie was left.

“Callie’s in the dressing room behind the stage.” Giving him a nod, she let him poof out, making her way towards said dressing room. Giving it a small knock, she poofed in, not giving her any time to answer.

“Yohoo babe. It’s been awhile.” [y/n] smiled as Callie ran into her arms, her red hair flowing behind her as the girl latched onto her.

“How...how are you here..” She whispered out, not letting go of her friend, not believing she was actually in front of her.

“That’s not important, what’s more important is getting you out of here for now.” She whispered back to the girl, gripping her shoulder as she felt a power behind her. Smirking to herself,

“An, where exactly are you taking my bunny, little sparrow?” Calebs voice rang out behind them as Callie froze, before backing off of [y/n]. The [h/c] girl sighed, before turning to him.

“It’s finally nice to meet, Caleb Convington. I’ve heard so much about you.” The girl’s voice held nothing but genuine kindness, but there was something definitely hidden underneath her words, Caleb noted.

“Oh? I’m glad to know that, little sparrow. But, I’m afraid I don’t know who you are. Would you mind telling me?” He gave her a smile, not moving from his spot, getting a bad vibe from the girl in front of him, and the small smirk that etched its way on her face, proved his point.

“Oh, I’m no one special.” She shrugged nonchalantly, making sure to keep Callie behind her, glad she was staying quiet for the time being.

“Is that so? No mere ghost can usually get in here without invitation from me. So how did you get in sparrow?”

“Have you ever heard of someone called, Queen?” The words dripped off her tongue as Caleb felt a chill run through him as the name suddenly popped into his mind. He knew exactly who Queen was.

“I believe so, little sparrow. Do you have beef with her as well?” He cautiously asked, not knowing if the girl infront of him was friend or foe. The smirk quickly widened, as her eyes got a little darker.

“Me? Beef with someone with that power. Yeah no, I don’t have a death wish.” She waved her hand absentmindedly,

“Oh please, sparrow. She’s nothing to brag about. She won’t be able to harm you as long as you stay here with me.” He could finally feel the power the girl was giving off, and he knew that right then and there he wanted the girl on his side.

“Is that so? Glad to know.” Tilting her head to side lightly, she flicked her wrist, instantly sending him into the mirror, a dark expression covering her face. Caleb groaning when he smashed into the glass, giving the girl a glare as he got up, brushing off his suit.

“That wasn’t nice sparrow. If it’s a fight you want, I���ll gladly give you one.” He threatened, his staff poofing into his hand.

“Bitch please. Do you even know who I am?” Her voice held venom, “Let me fill you in on something sparrow, I’m your worst nightmare, and your reign ends tonight.” She spat, as the two instantly began to fight, throwing blows at each other.

“Callie, get out of here.” She ordered, blocking one of his attacks, as she flicked her wrist again, sending him flying through the wall and onto the dance floor.

“I’m not going to leave you here, [y/n]!” Calebs eyes widening at the name, as he slowly got up. He knew that name, it was one of the very few he feared.

“Don’t worry about me, ‘kay?” giving her friend a small smile, before Callie poofed out of there with Willie. Taking a deep breath, she knew she had to get this over with, she only had a few minutes left before her time was up. Silently stalking towards her prey, she forced him back down onto the floor, her power coming out full force.

“I see my name rings a bell. Too bad, I have to end things here and now.” Queen sighed, tilting her head as she grinned.

“W-what do you mean? You can’t get rid of me!” He tried to protest, not being able to get up under her powers.

“Wanna bet? They don’t call me Queen for nothing. Like I said, your reign ends here, Caleb. Your wife is pretty pissed at you too. Tell her I said hello okay?” She gripped onto his suit, bringing him up so his face was infront of hers, and was satisfied when she saw his eyes held a hint of fear in them.

Alright, Claire, Sasha. Time to wrap it up.

The girls hummed back as her hands slowly glowed a soft black, murmuring some ancient words, Calebs protests grew quieter and quieter before she finished the spell.

“Have a nice life in the afterlife. God knows you’ll be judged for the things you’ve done. Don’t worry, your little club will be taken care of.” Giving him one more grin, she watched as he grew more and more transparent before he was completely gone. Standing straight back up, she groaned, her head pounding as she poofed back towards the others. Blinking softly as she saw all the ghosts there, along with Callie. Letting out a shaky breath.

“Everyone listen up. Caleb is now gone, forever. You’re free from his curse. You now have the decision to make if you’d like to stay here on Earth or cross over.” Her voice rang out as the ghosts began to talk amongst themselves, Callie running up to her best friend.

“Callie, you have the choice to stay or go. If you stay, the club will be in your hands and you can run it however you’d like.” Giving her friend a painful smile, the pounding now worsening, as the group still touching her was worried and concerned.

“[y/n], you don’t have long, get back in your body now.” Rex’s voice rang out, as she sighed, gripping her head.

“Whatever your decisions are, talk it up to the other four, they’ll help you with your choice.” Was the last thing she said as she merged back with her body, her body instantly going limp, as Luke caught her. Her breathing was a little irregular and jaded as she didn’t move, her face being a little pale. Luke trying everything he could to get her to wake up.

“She’s not gonna wake up. She used up all of her energy, regular and spiritually. Let her have a few days rest and she’ll be back to normal.” Sasha came over, giving the girl a few head pats, humming softly, “Atleast three days before she’ll wake up. You four are more than welcome to stay with us till she wakes up.” She offered, walking off to help the other three with the ghosts.

~~~

The four of them ended up taking Sasha’s offer, wanting to be close to their friend. Luke haven’t leaving her side as he silently watched her sleep. Noticing, how her face had gained color again after the first day.

“I guess I can catch you up huh? I’m not sure if you’ll remember or not. But, your friend Callie, ended up taking over the Ghost Club, a few ghosts decided to cross over, the rest decided to stick around with helping Callie.” His hand grabbing one of hers, his fingers brushing against her knuckles. “Julie, she ended up helping your friends and was able to help Willie be like us. So Alex and him are over the moon.” He continued on, updating her on everything that has been going on the past few days. From news to the music they’ve been working on to help distract the group from what went down.

“Well.. I’m glad everything worked out then for everyone..” your raspy sleepy groaned out, giving his hand a small squeeze as his head whipped to her now awake. Her head was still thudding, just not as bad as before, as she slowly sat up. His eyes widened as she rose a brow at his weird behavior, before shrugging it off and taking the medicine that rested on the bedside table, washing it down with the water. He didn’t take no time in crushing her in a hug after she was done, taking her by surprise as she slowly wrapped her arms around him.

“Never, do that again.. please..” he whispered out, causing her to blink and push him back lightly.

“You do realize its my job right? Just usually never to that extent.” She thought, shrugging as she gave him a small smile, “I don’t usually go ghost much, Caleb’s case was an exception though that needed to happen. But I’ll try to tone down, worry wart.” She couldn’t help but reassure him, before feeling his lips on hers. Her eyes widening slightly, before she kissed him back,

“Good, cause I love you.. and I don’t want anything to happen to you.” his forehead resting against hers, her being able to see all the emotions running through his eyes, along with the gentle smile on his face.

“I love you too, Luke..” She hummed, giving him her own gentle smile back as she brought him in for another kiss. Maybe visiting her cousin was the thing she needed the most outside of her work for the summer. It was worth it in the end, and the others couldn’t help but agree.

*I know its been awhile since I've updated, between the writing, I've had some curveballs being thrown in my life, that I didn't expect to happen or even deal with. I'm sorry for making you guys wait for the final part of this story. I'll slowly be starting on proof reading the Reggie x Reader story I have planned, along with other stories I have drafted up as well.*

Taglist: @crybabyddl

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 139

SYNOPSIS: Their days in paradise have been wonderful, blissfully happy and therapeutic for both Jamie and especially Claire who has finally recovered from her nightmares. Today, Jamie has planned a day of special surprises for his Sassenach, although she is very surprised at their mode of transportation as they set off on a day of carefree adventure.  

Chapter 138 and all other chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations  

THANK YOU all so much for your continued support of this novel of a story.  I really appreciate everyone who is reading along.   I hope you will enjoy these next four chapters as I take Jamie and Claire to idyllic places in the Whitsunday Islands.

CHAPTER 139

 The lovers had fallen asleep in each other’s arms like they had every night spent here at Jamie’s home since they had arrived in Australia.  Every day had been idyllic, they’d been bushwalking, lazing on their private beach, had watched the sunsets and sunrises and had made love in nearly every room of the house over the course of the past week or so.  Memorable days and nights spent in each other’s company had been like a honeymoon.  Since being here in Queensland, Jamie and Claire had idled away the time spent together and couldn’t have been happier or more in love for it had been blissfully romantic and carefree in this paradise so far away from Section One.  

The two operatives were off the grid and absolutely uncontactable by Madeline and Operations. Their friend Murtagh, was the only one entrusted with where they were going and Jamie had let him know categorically that under no circumstances was he to contact them or let anyone know they had left Hong Kong.  If Murtagh valued his life, and their friendship, then he would leave them in peace to enjoy their much-needed downtime to recover.  

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

James Fraser looked down at his Claire in calm repose. He had lost count of the number of days that he’d awoken with her nestled contentedly in his arms, and he loved that their intimacy made his beloved feel safe and protected. Thankfully her nightmares had dissipated and his Sassenach had slept more soundly and peacefully over the past few nights, free from her past recollections. All the bad memories of the monastery and the demons that had tormented her dreams had gone, and she’d not had any more nightmares take hold of her mind.

Sighing, Jamie ran his hand over Claire’s tousled locks and brushed a curl away from her cheek before kissing the top of her head. Smiling happily, he then kissed the side of her face inhaling the special scent of his love that filled his nostrils when he buried his face into the curve of her neck.  He loved the smooth feel of her skin, but he loved it more when Claire arched her throat up for him to run kisses along the length of her swan like neck which led to the sensual foreplay that ultimately resulted in their lovemaking.

Life here in this paradise had been everything and more than they could have hoped for, but the fact that the days were speeding by, filled him with great sorrow. If only things could be different at Section and they were not under such scrutiny, then they could still perform their duties as operatives but have a life together.  This time here had been a cathartic experience.  He wanted their lives to always be intertwined in the same way their bodies had been for the last few days intimately and in peace.  However, the leadership of Section did not allow fraternization between functioning field operatives and until such time as this changed then they would have to be clandestine in their familiarity and togetherness.

It made him furious that they would once again have to return to the hellhole that was Section One after their two weeks, that they would have to pretend in front of their superiors that there was no romantic relationship between the two of them and that he would have to be careful not to show any emotion around the woman he loved.   However, looking down at the angel of his heart, he had a moment of clarification. He was no longer the same person he had been for several years.  Although he was still a cold, Level 5 field operative, he had changed emotionally.  Claire Beauchamp had changed him for the better.  She had made him more human and made him realise that he was worthy of being loved and giving love in return.

Shaking this malaise from his mind, Jamie looked down at his Sassenach’s peaceful, sleeping form nestled safely against his body. He placed a gentle kiss against her cheek, then pulled Claire in closer by wrapping his arms around her and rested his head against hers.  

He loved this woman with all his heart and he would do everything in his power for them to be together once the Rising Dragons’ mission was over. He had promised her that he would find a way and he was going to keep that promise. This downtime was more than just for them to heal and recuperate.  It was a time of honesty, of no regrets and a time for them to treasure every special moment spent together.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As she began to wake, Claire felt the touch of her lover’s kiss as Jamie brushed his lips over her porcelain skin once more.  She stirred against him automatically nuzzling closer against his warm chest.  Although still half asleep, she felt the tickling brush of Jamie’s growing beard against her flesh.  It was so erotic that Claire stirred a little more before wriggling a little closer. She let out a keening whimper as he teased her throat with his tongue before brushing his lips up under her chin.

“Mmmm … That feels so good Fraser,” she moaned as her eyes began to flutter in that moment just before they opened.

Hearing her moan, Jamie stroked Claire’s temple and kissed the top of her head as his fingers lazily stroked her delicate skin up and down.

"Ja-mie," she whispered softly.

The sound of his name on her lips spoken so breathlessly thrilled him. If she continued to say his name like that though, they may never get out of bed and he had special plans for them today that Claire would not think him capable of doing. He kissed her hair once again then trailed kisses along her cheek as his love raised her head to look into his eyes.

Their lips gently connected. "Good morning mo ghràidh," he purred in his sexy Scottish burr and a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “I could watch you for hours, Sassenach... see how you've changed ... how you're the same. Your hair... Mo nighean donn.” “My brown-haired lass,” Claire uttered softly, the words lingering on her lips like a gentle caress from her man. She smiled at him, then leaning up, placed her lips to his whispering against them, " Good morning lover. So, what are we going to do today?"

Grinning at her with a gleam in his eye, Jamie lightly rubbed her cheek and stroked his fingers under her jaw. "Tis another surprise Sassenach.”

Claire was enthralled looking at him with a penetrating stare as she wondered what this wonderful man had in store for them today.  She smiled back at him. "Hmmm?  I wonder what you have in mind this time James Fraser?”

A smile beamed across his face waiting for her response to what he was going to say. “I was thinking we could go sailing the Whitsundays today.”

She was a little shocked at this announcement given that Jamie and the sea often didn’t see eye to eye and he was prone to getting sea sick. Tilting her head back to see his eyes more clearly, Claire soon realised that he was indeed serious with his suggestion.

A wry smile and a surprised raised eyebrow greeted his announcement. “Sailing?  … But don’t you get seasick Jamie?”

“Don’t worry Sassenach.  Everything will be fine. It will be smooth sailing … I promise.”

Seeing the sheer joy on his face at this suggestion Claire couldn’t help but smile too. “Well then … a day on the ocean sounds wonderful. I would like that very much.”

“Good,” he replied then leaning down Jamie gently kissed her lips while tracing a finger down her neck, but he stopped himself before it went further. “Well then, as much as I hate to say this … but we best get up. Time and tide wait for no man ye ken.”  

"Okay," she nodded in agreeance with his plan although with some skepticism but wonder in her voice.

Giving Claire a cheeky little pat on the backside, Jamie grinned at her and wriggled his eyebrows.  "Come on then Sassenach. Let’s get this day started."

She laughed and squatted his hand away before responding with a kiss of her own. “You’ll keep Fraser,” and rolling away from each other they got out of bed ready for a day of adventure.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Holding hands Jamie and Claire walked along the docks of the private marina admiring the rows of sailboats and yachts moored there until they stopped at a sleek, beautiful white yacht with a gold stripe along the side of it.  However, it wasn’t the boat’s stunning design that caught her attention but the cursive writing printed in gold on the rear of the boat, ‘Je Suis Prest.’

Claire approached the yacht admiring the gold lettering on the stern and side of the boat unaware of what significance the name held for James Fraser. Turning around she looked at him inquisitively.

“What a beautiful yacht Jamie. Is this our hire boat for sailing today?  Are you going to sail it or do we need a skipper? The name is intriguing … Je Suis Prest … I wonder what that means?”  

He gave her a tender kiss on the mouth and with a smile on his lips replied, “Ye do ask a lot of questions Sassenach.”

“I’m just a little gobsmacked by this beautiful yacht Jamie.  I can hardly believe this is for us.”

“Well it ‘tis. I believe that the yacht belongs to a Jared Fraser who is in France on business. He rents it out when not in Australia,” Jamie said standing in front of the beautiful, very big, yacht with the Fraser maxim emblazoned on the back.

“What? … No!  It belongs to someone named Fraser?  Jesus H Roosevelt Christ!  What a coincidence he has the same name as you.” Claire replied in astonishment dropping her beach bag on the dock laughing and realising that Jamie had answered one of her questions. She cast another look at the sleek vessel moored at the dock with new eyes. “Je Suis Prest,” she muttered under her breath.

“Do you know what that means Sassenach?” he whispered in her ear as he came and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Do ye know the Fraser motto, lass? My clan's, I mean?

“No. I don't.”

“’Tis my family motto Sassenach from my other life before Section.   Je suis prest … I am ready.”

“Je Suis Prest,” Claire muttered under her breath. Her eyes were sparkling with the thought the Jamie had given her another little piece of himself that he’d hidden all these years in Section. She smiled beguilingly at him.  

James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser, Section One’s incomparable Level 5 operative was always ready for anything that may occur at Section.  From dealing with the machinations of their superiors, to what happened on missions, to the life and death decisions he faced on a regular basis, this man was always ready. That is why he stayed alive and his team always returned safely.  Jamie lived this family motto every day.

“I’m ready too Fraser… “she teased, “… ready for our sailing adventure today.”  However, Claire’s face altered when she looked at him with some apprehension knowing that Jamie was not the best sea person. “But, are you really sure you will you be okay?”

Jamie saw the look that came over her face knowing how the sea affected him.  Taking her hand, he smiled at his love reassuring her that he would be okay. “I only get seasick on ocean voyages mo nighean donn. Sailing in the Whitsundays is calm like a millpond and the region is one of the world’s safest boating destinations Claire.”

He raised her hand to his lips and placed a kiss to her knuckles.  “It’s sheltered from ocean swell by the Great Barrier Reef, and the numerous islands provide calm and completely protected natural anchorages. That is the amount of swell I can tolerate.  I’ll be fine Sassenach, but I do have some acupuncture needles just in case,” he teased with a twinkle in his eye.

She smiled relieved that he would be okay. “That’s good to know. So, are you going to tell me what we’re going to do then?”

Jamie just shook his head and grinned. “No. ‘Tis a surprise…,” he responded amused at the irritation furrowing her features. “… and I know just how much ye love surprises Sassenach.”

“But Jamie …”

He looked at her beseeching face and capitulated a little without telling her he had planned to also sail to Whitehaven Beach for a picnic.  “Okay … I thought we might head over to the outer reef for some snorkelling. Would ye like that Claire?”

“Yes, I would like that very much.”

Her skin itched with excitement at the thought of sailing today with Jamie at the helm of this magnificent yacht.  The thought of the cool sea breezes crashing over her and the stunning sea views, not to mention the virile man she was with, filled her with excitement for what the day may hold. Wherever the wind would take them on today’s adventure she just knew it was going to be memorable. 

“Aye, Aye Captain.”

“Well then, welcome aboard sailor.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Holding Jamie’s outstretched hand, Claire managed to step onto the edge of the yacht and climbed onto the deck. Once onboard, she took a moment to admire the yacht from the lovely teak wooden deck to the cushioned benches curving on both the port and starboard sides of the saloon to the spacious cockpit where a huge steering wheel dominated the space. It was a beautifully maintained yacht and she was so excited to be going on this sailing adventure with Jamie at the wheel.

In next to no time after placing their supplies for the day on board, Jamie hoisted the mainsail that would capture the bulk of the wind power necessary to propel the yacht and if needs be, he could use the motors as a backup should the wind fail. He secured the vertical side of the sail to the mast, and its horizontal side to the boom parallel to the deck. Jamie then made his way to the cockpit to ready them for sailing while Claire walked over to the side of the boat and leaned over the metal railings, staring out into the crystal blue water wondering what adventures awaited them today.  She took in the clear blue skies, the warming sunshine and shimmering ocean waves.  Lost in thought she didn’t hear Jamie come and stand beside her.

He grinned at her and taking her hand led her into the cockpit and started the engine.  “Ready Sassenach?”

“Always,” she replied a wistful smile gracing her lips.

For Claire, watching Jamie concentrate on reversing the yacht safely out of its moored area at the marina as they headed out into the ocean was as mesmerizing as it had been watching him manoeuvre their car on the journey when they had left Med Lab.

James Fraser never ceased to amaze her every single day, and this too was a new piece of information about the man she loved that filled her heart to bursting. He was a consummate, virile specimen of manhood and her eyes glided over his torso from head to toe, before lingering on his arms as she admired his prowess at the yacht’s helm. The fact that just the thought of what his body and arms could do to her, and oh, sweet Jesus … his hands … was enough to make her cheeks blush with wickedly delicious thoughts.

Claire knew that she needed to curtail these wayward feelings or they just might get her into trouble, but that had never bothered her before, and besides she felt a little flirty.  Moving up behind Jamie, she hugged her man pulling him against her. She placed her hands over his as he steered the yacht out into the open seas, then, resting her head on his shoulder, Claire sighed contentedly.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They had soon left the yacht marina behind them and it seemed as if they were the only ones in the vast sea. The weather was perfect for sailing with a warm breeze and only a few clouds in the vibrant blue sky. There was something rather magical about going where the wind took you. The cares and stresses of their everyday life as cold-blooded killer operatives had ebbed away since they had been here, and the present became everything for them. Briny air, azure blue swells, and a wind that carried them to whatever destination Jamie was taking them to in this picturesque setting, was all that mattered. It was freeing and liberating for the mind and the fact that Claire had banished all of her nightmares from her consciousness, she had relished being in paradise as much as he had.

The sails now flapped in the wind as the waves gently rocked the boat and the salt and brine smell of the ocean filled their nostrils. What a majestic place this was for them.  They were completely unplugged and disconnected from the rest of the world, but completely connected with each other and their surroundings. Over the past week, the Whitsundays already had won their hearts and the fact that they were navigating new waters ... learning so much, working together as well as re-anchoring together through these wonderful moments, was everything. It was so different from their life in Section. The fact that they were having this incredible adventure, in one of the most beautiful locations in the world, immersed in nature, free and away from everything, with an element of learning and having to work at something as a team was really special.

This day was already turning into something unforgettable as Jamie and Claire talked about nothing and everything as they sailed along. The waters were the most beautiful azure blue she had ever seen while both of them were awestruck by the beauty of the sea. They were in the middle of the ocean, away from civilization, from their life at Section One and more importantly those who scrutinized their every move.  There was just the two of them surrounded by the beauty of this part of the world. This was a place that had always been on Claire’s bucket list prior to her recruitment to Section One, but one she had never had the opportunity to visit. The dichotomy of being here to being in Section was worlds apart.  It was as different as night and day.  Just being with Jamie made her felt free and alive as never before, compared to their hellhole where you never, ever knew if you would live or die on any particular day. This day had already started out magical and Claire knew that whatever the rest of the day would bring, that to share it with the love of her life was all that she could want.

The yacht smoothly cut through the tranquil seas as Jamie skippered the vessel towards their first destination.  He observed how happy and relaxed his Sassenach was and how very much he too was enjoying this sailing trip.  His stomach had managed to behave, and not once had he felt even a tiny tinge of seasickness. He was so looking forward to seeing Claire’s face when they arrived at the outer reef for some snorkelling amongst the coral and underwater sea life. It was then on to Whitehaven Beach to spend the day, swimming or paddle boarding off the yacht and perhaps watching the sun set from the water, drinking plenty of wine and whisky on a beach picnic, before returning home under the shimmering night skies. It would be a day of living life to the full and enjoying each other’s company in the serenity of this beautiful area. Although he’d planned some things they would do, it was the joyful spontaneity of those unexpected moments Jamie knew would happen with his Sassenach, that they would remember and hold dear to their hearts.  

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Life for Jamie and Claire over this past week and a bit had been magical.  They were somewhere that let them see the stars at night, somewhere away from their previous life where missions, End Games, covert operations, subterfuge and manipulation ruled their lives. They’d had the opportunity to connect with each other in a way that they were rarely able to do and they had relished their connectedness. It had been cathartic and exhilarating for both of them.  Their wounds had healed and they were both in a good place and frame of mind that when they did have to return to Section, they were ready for whatever fate may hold for them.

Claire couldn’t pinpoint what it was that made this place and the Whitsundays so special.

Was it the beautiful blue water, always a pleasant temperature so that they could swim whenever they pleased?  Was it the incredible islands, dotted not far from the shore? Some were home to sophisticated resorts while others, uninhabited, were filled with mystery. Was it the tropical weather or the magnificent Great Barrier Reef and fringing reef, home to an endless range of marine life? Or was it just that they got to appreciate and wonder at this special environment every day they were here?

Perhaps it was a combination of these things that made the Whitsundays a truly special place and one she would always remember. After all it was the place that Jamie had chosen to take her to recuperate and forget all that had happened to the both of them at the monastery and for that she would be forever grateful.

She was so relaxed and comfortable around Jamie here.  She had let her guard down but so too had he. He had a way of making her laugh, and conversation with him was so easy. His all too familiar touch had taken her to places of exhilaration and ecstasy when they had both surrendered to the joys of making love so freely and without inhibition.  Together they could conquer the world, for James Fraser was her rock.  He was her everything and she loved him to distraction.  

A hand suddenly reached for her waist as the man of her thoughts came and stood beside her. Claire leaned in close to Jamie as his arms encircled her waist and brought her to his side. Taking her hand in his, he guided it towards a new spectacular sight.  Claire’s voice was filled with joy and wonder as he pointed out another spectacular sight … an island, a bird and a pod of dolphins surfacing from the ocean.  They both laughed as they watched the friendly and playful sea mammals frolic in the water so close to the yacht.

“Happy Sassenach?”

Her delight was infectious. “Very … Oh Jamie, this is the most wonderful day.”

“’Tis only just beginning mo ghràidh,” he assured her with a mysterious gleam in his eye.

“I didn’t think it could get any better than sailing with you my love.”

“Well it just might ye ken, because we have reached the outer reef and I thought ye might like to go snorkelling and see some of the marine life.”

“Oh …” Claire replied excitedly unable to suppress the smile that crossed her mouth.

  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~to be continued Tuesday 18th August when we see what wonders are in store beneath the waters of the reef.

[inlimahq]

CHARACTER INFO:

Birthday: April 10, 1994

Family: Cohen-Chang

Gender/Pronouns: Cisfemale & she/her

Sexuality: Pansexual

Occupation:  Owner of E & K Art Studio

Relation: Cousin

Birth Order: Middle

Secret: Keira has two secrets she swears she'll take with her the day she leaves this planet and that is when Keira was 7, she accidentally melted the face off her cousin Tina's favorite Barbie doll by trying to blow dry her hair. Her cousin thinks the dog mangled her doll to this day. Her other secret? She accidentally killed her daughter Emily's fish and replaced it with an identical one.

SOME THINGS ABOUT KEIRA:

on april 10th, 1994 the moreno’s welcome a healthy baby girl into the world. for a short while they tried to make it work, but both parents were struggling completely. on december 3rd, 1994 the moreno’s made a decision that hurt them more than they could ever imagine, they gave up their daughter.

they had met a couple claire and sarah, a few months before the adoption took place. they were two loving parents looking to adopt a daughter, but with them being a lesbian couple the adoption process didn’t always favor them. so as the moreno family struggled more, they took the opportunity when it was handed to them, they gifted their daughter to a better life and a better future. the only request that they had was for updates on their daughter, which claire and sarah complied with completely.

from that moment on she became keira penelope cohen and she was sarah and claire’s daughter. she was welcomed to a loving family with two brothers and eventually a little sister came along. once keira had settled everything about her seemed to improve, from the baby's happiness to her motor skills. it was all thanks to who loving moms who didn’t return her the moment it got hard, instead they worked with her each step of the way until she felt secure enough to step out on her own.

even though keira never was the prom queen or head cheerleader she found outlets when it came to art, specially paintings. spending her time split between tutoring and the art lab. throughout her years of high school she was involved in every art show, eventually one of her paintings was featured in the paper and at their local art gallery.

keira never knew what falling in love with someone could feel like, until meeting him. stevie was the first and only person to make the young girl feel like she could give up anything to just to be happy and with him. unfortunately things don’t always work out the way one would hope, and after a while of being in a serious relationship (her first and only real relationship) turned sour - keira and stevie ended things. now on her own, keira didn't have herself to think about, but their daughter. emily. getting over the initial shock of her relationship ending and stevie not being ready to be a dad, keira swore to herself she was going to be exactly what her daughter would need.

with help from her moms, keira pushed herself to go to college. offers came flooding in from lima university, ucla, cal arts, yale, which she turned down in favor of going to columbia. during her college visit she’d fallen in love with campus, the city eventually became her home. she’d loved everything about new york city from its fast pace to the fact there was a starbucks on almost every corner. her love for the city grew even more when emily joined her at columbia, it was the two of them against the world.

just like all good things do keira and emily’s time together in the city eventually ended, but keira couldn’t bring herself to leave new york city, especially when she finally felt like she belonged somewhere. taking a job at the metropolitan museum of art where she spent her days as a tour guide, she eventually moved up to being one of the few who helped restore different art pieces. with constantly working, her dreams suffered and her art was put on hold in favor of making actual money. for years she wished for an out to be able to focus on herself, her art.

after years of working keira took a vacation back to lima to help her mothers and sister move, that’s when she realized the problem. that as much as she loved new york here family wasn’t there, she was working a dead end job that was killing her creativity. what was once home was now tainted, she felt like it was a cage that just kept closing in day by day. so she put in her two weeks and packed everything up. rather than be stuck in a cage she loaded everything into a u-haul and headed to where her family was; she was able to get an apartment for her and emily.

while it wasn’t the most idea of plans keira made it work for her. channeling everything she felt into her paintings, after a few months she had enough to fill a garage full. doing a pop up at a local art studio got keira the little bit of money she needed for a studio of her own. she spent hours painting away. in the hopes to encourage her - sarah and claire broke down and restored an old building into an art gallery/studio. while keira was hesitant at first she eventually took the offer with the promise to pay them back. now she spends her days mostly in the studio or her office getting new talent to work for her. even though her life is nothing like she thought it would be, she’s slowly taking it day by day.

[jay-and-dean]

Little Red Riding Hood

Sam x Reader One shot

Camping with friends, confidences, a night in the wood... what could go wrong ?

Note : @holylulusworld made me... This is my first ever Sam smut.

Warnings : SMUT... hand kink, a hit of size kink... I mean, Sam !

Words : 3.1k

***WANT TO READ MORE ? => MASTERLIST***

____________________________

          Summer is hot and sunny, the lake is beautiful and the sun is falling on it slowly like it wanted to bath. The tents are open and everything is messy : you spent the day listening to loud music and swimming with your friends. Even in the shade of that beautiful willow, heat makes alcohol a little more intoxicating.

“Come on !” Claire says to Jack, sitting next to you. “Don’t tell me you never thought about it !”

Jack looks a little surprised and takes a sip of his beer.

“No, really” he says. “I guess I never really had the opportunity, considering I live with the boys.”

“Well Y/n too” Claire states with a teasing smile. “You could have had sex with her.”

“Y/n is my best friend” Jack frowns.

You laugh and get up to take another beer from the cooler next to your tent.

“No offence Jack but you’re not really my type” you smile messing with his hair before sitting again, against the trunk.

“Are you into girls ?” Claire purrs, biting her lips like she always does when she hits on you.

“No she’s into Sam…” Jack states and your eyes widen.

“Sam ? As in Sam Winchester ?” Claire cough.

“You couldn’t shut up huh, Jack ?” you groan.

“He’s old” Claire thinks out loud and you hum biting your lips, rubbing your naked thighs together. “Whaaat ! You’re unbelievable Y/n ! Tell me everything ! Sammy ? Come on !”

“I don’t know he’s just… Did you look at him ?” you shrug drinking your all beer in one go.

“She’s in love with him” Jack adds innocently and you choke.

“I’m not !... I mean… He would never… anyway. Forget it !” you try but Claire is smiling so much you fear she would hurt her face, you roll your eyes.

“Oh my God I need to hear your dirtiest fantasies about Sam !” Claire shouts. “Come on I told you everything about that girl and about my wet dreams about Kristen Stewart. Pleeeease !”

           You laugh and take a sip of the beer in your hand again.

“I won’t tell you all my dirty secrets that easily” you smile. “There is just that thing he does with his chest…”

“Okay, this is going to be fun” your friend sits on her ankles. “Have you ever dreamt about him ?”

“Jack won’t shut his mouth…” you protest.

“He will or I have some things I could say too” she says and you see Jack swallow. “Dream ?”

“Yes” you sigh.

“Dirty dreams ?” she insists.

“Yes dirty dreams” you shake your head.

“Wow, I never thought of Sam this way, he’s just, so serious and old. He’s really nice and I guess he’s handsome but…”

“Have you seen his hands ?” you cut her and as her mouth opens without words coming out of it, you continue. “I’m sure just his fingers would go deeper than my ex’s dick. Last time he licked his fingers during diner, I had to go to the bathroom to… wipe… I mean, men hands make me all tingly already… Have you seen Sam fucking Winchester’s hands ?”

           Claire laughs and shakes her head while you clear your voice.

“I can’t even imagine what he hides in those jeans…” you sigh. “He’s so strong, I would let him do anything to me” you let out a moan that makes Jack widen his eyes.

“Do you think he’s dirty ? He’s always so reasonable, he eats healthy and work out and…”

“He’s in control” you cut her dreamingly. “He knows what he is doing, he’s smart and powerful, believe me Sam has a secret side” you feel yourself blush. “I would give anything to have him in control of me.”

“Must be fun to live with them” Claire turns to Jack.

“It’s awkward most of the times” Jack shrugs with a light smile.

“Yeah, well I’m horny all the time” you pout. “I live with a sex god and I can’t touch him” you sigh. “Last time he gave me too many orders while I was packing I called him Sir to make fun of him, but it made me fucking moan out loud instead… I’m lost. Sam Winchester ruined me.”

“Wow girl, you got it bad” Claire laughs loudly, showing her teeth.

           But your own smile fades. The problem is Jack is right : What started with attraction grew into something else. Evening spent watching movies with him doesn’t let you craving for just touches now, but also for affection. And his dimpled smile is now tearing your heart most of the time.

           You can’t show it of course, Sam would think you’re crazy, he doesn’t see you that way, you’re too young, and he often acts like you were a little sister. Sometimes you wonder what it could have been like to be Jessica, having a man like him intimate enough to ask you to marry him, waking up beside him, in his strong arms…

“Damn, I’m never looking at Sam the same way” your friend cuts your thoughts in a chuckle.

“Yeah well… if only he knew what he does to me…” you say dreamingly.

             You turn in your tent, not finding sleep. Talking about Sam like that was a bad idea, now you miss him, that kind smile, the delicious smell of his skin ; and you think about his hands… How they would grab your body, how his fingers could fill you, how tiny you would look under his palm…

           A discreet noise makes your senses switch on. What was that ? Not an animal for sure, not one of your friends, you hear them snore in their own tents.

           Taking your knife in your hand you open the zipper slowly. The noise again. Then something touches the fabric of your temporary room. You rush outside with your knife but nothing is there, just the forest and the majestic willow covered by night.

           You look around and see a shadow between trees, obviously staring at you even if where you are you couldn’t say what it is for sure. A wendigo ? Come on ! This is your first vacation in two years !

           You look back thinking about waking your friends but the shadow starts moving so you follow it right away. The woods are dark but the almost full moon allows you to see where you put your feet. After a minute or two walking, you wonder : Is it a good idea to go further ? You could get lost and…

           Suddenly, an incredibly strong arm wraps around your waist from behind while a hand keeps you from screaming, almost bruising your face.

“It’s me” you hear behind you.

This voice, this smell… You look down and recognize it : the hand that you crave for years is holding you so tight. He frees your mouth.

“Sammy ?” you ask out of breath both from short but intense fear and from sudden arousal.

He doesn’t let you go, his giant arm still powerfully holding your waist.

“Yeah…” he sighs and you feel his mouth brush your neck.

“Oh…” you can’t hold back a winging sigh. “Wh-what are you doing here ?”

The hand that was on your mouth before pushes the hair that fell from your messy bun to the side, and he puts a kiss on the skin there. What is happening ? Did Sam just put a wet and hungry kiss on your skin ?

           Your legs close, like your body was trying to stop your pussy from reacting.

“I heard…” he whispers.

Your heart races and you start to sweat.

“Wh-what ? Sammy…” you try but he softly bites the side of your throat. “Oh god… Please…”

“I barely touched you and you are already begging” he groans. “Was it true ?"

"Wh-what ?" you stutter.

"All of it" he groans and you feel yourself soaking your panties, his huge body so close to yours. "You need me that bad ?" he groans, and the vibrations of his chest goes directly to your core. “My hands ?...” his fingers wrap around your throat, covering all of it.

All you can do is nod, still not sure this isn't a wet dream.

           A strand of his hair falls next to your face, and you try to turn to see him, but his massive body prevents any movement.

"Don't move" he orders in a deep voice you never heard. "Don't you dare..."

The hand around your waist comes up, now grabbing your boobs through your tank top, he can touch both at once and you feel so small.

"No bra..." he almost pants.

“I-I’m in my pajamas…” you moan and swallow, feeling his snake-hand holding your throat.

           The hand holding your waist falls on your ass and you gasp when it takes your sweatpants and panties down in one sharp movement. He bites your shoulder in a growl, making you bend a little. One of your shaking hands lean on the three in front of you, your nails scratching the wood at the intense pleasure the hunter is already giving you.

           He doesn’t go further, letting you butt-naked, your pants still below it. When his hips crush on you, the size of the bulge you feel makes you whine, and the hand around your throat squeezes you just a second to strangled the dangerously loud sound escaping your lungs.

“Can you take me Y/n ?” he groans low and you smell his delicious sweat break through his skin. “Little red ridding hood… Do you want me now ?”

His voice alone could make you come, and your only answer is a push back on his cock. He almost roars and the hand around your throat rolls around to hold your neck from behind now, making you bend a little more, fiercely. Your second arm goes to the tree for more balance. You are totally at his mercy.

           One of his foot spreads your legs a little, but your pants doesn’t allow much. His palm comes roughly in contact with your ass cheek and your pussy starts pulsing around nothing. You lower your head but his powerful arm can hold it because his fingers are long enough to wrap from back to front.

           When his huge hand goes down your ass, down between your thighs, and comes caressing your soaked folds from behind, you almost lose balance. But Sam is so strong his wrist on your neck alone can hold you. He wets his fingers in a manly moan, making his long digits rub your entrance from tip to palm, and a burning feeling makes you see stars already.

“So cute little Y/n fantasizes about my fingers, huh ?” he snarls and you take a deep shaky inhale. “Aren’t you a little too young to want a man like me ? Huh ?”

“P-please…” is all you can say, weakly.

Before you even register what he’s up to, two of his fingers brush your entrance and push in, stretching you deliciously.

“Sam…” you moan.

He pushes deeper, slowly but perfectly steadily. When you feel his index and little finger press hard against your ass cheeks, you understand he used his two longest fingers.

“Gnnn… FUCK” you cry out when you feel him so deep.

“Shhhh” he murmurs.

No one ever did that to you. His hand is so long and thick, he hits you better than most man could do with their hands or even their cock. The tips of his fingers move a little inside of you, and you swear you could feel them in your belly.

Fingers and cocks are not the same, hands are less thick, but firmer and more precise, with their own will, move… That’s why you love them so much.

When he starts to roughly make his hand shake, his whole arm violently jolting, you almost faint. A strangle moan escape your lungs painfully.

“Yeaaah… That’s it babygirl… just like that” he groans from deep in his chest.

You feel something explode inside you and come, the hardest ever, tears filling your eyes and your juice burning your thighs because of the contrast with the fresh air on your skin.

           You stay here, panting. Absolutely incapable of forming a coherent thought. Sam’s long fingers leave you and he wraps his two arms around you, helping you to stay up.

           In your high, you feel his lips devour your neck and jaw. Your eyes can’t focus, your hands are shaking, all your brain can focus on is Sam Winchester. You lean on his chest and touches in ecstatic whines. His hand comes to your face, clumsily pushing the hair out of your face.

“Do you want more ?” he pants in your ear.

That’s when you notice how he breathes, how hot his skin is, how hard he is… You nod and smile with your eyes closed in bliss. Sam, your Sam wants you.

           He turns you and takes your pants and panties down in an eager grunt. Your head goes back a little at how high you are.

“There, I got ya” he whispers against the delicate skin of your jaw.

His lips move to yours and you really wish you could enjoy your first kiss wish Sam Winchester, a kiss you’ve dreamed of for so long… But now his delicious mouth tastes yours, half your focus is on his hand struggling with his belt.

           When he grabs your thighs to carry you against the trunk, taking place with the moves of a wild cat between your legs, you feel so small it actually scares you a little for a few seconds. But his predatory attitude doesn’t fool you : Sam is the kindest heroes of all.

           You dare looking down and gasp. Sam is huge, and his cock, hard but heavy, laying on your lower belly, looks like it would never fit, even after his fingers… He kisses you, the soft taste of his lips making you forget anything else but want.

           His arms are the size of your thighs, and the strange sensation of him being a giant makes you shake again you again, except this time it doesn’t scare you. You whine in desire, making noises you didn’t know you had in you.

“Look at me baby…” he purrs, suddenly tender and warm.

He grabs his cocks in his hand and you open your mouth in anticipation, looking down at it. When he lines himself with your entrance, you realize if he hadn’t prepared you so good, so deeply and roughly, you probably couldn’t take him.

           He pushes just the tip in, you can’t take your eyes off of it. Both his hands are under your thighs so when he bends his head to catch your attention on his face, you ignore it for a while, knowing he can’t make you look up just right now. You just watch him sink slowly, watch how you swallow him, how this thick vein disappears inside of you. Your heart is racing and you feel sweat roll on your back.

           A low moan escapes his lips, making you finally look at his face. When your eyes meet his, a side smile welcomes you. The little strand of his hair sticking to his forehead, the dimples on his right cheek, the dark in his eyes… Every detail make you fall in love all over again. You have to hold back a tear at the idea of him, your Sammy, finally sinking inside you.

           But a sudden sharp sensation makes you gasp : the stretching becomes too much when he bottoms out. He’s huge and your head falls back in a whine. But after a few seconds not moving, your body finally welcomes him totally and it becomes so good to feel him that you start to shake.

“G-God… Sam…” you moan, grabbing his waist to make him move.

His stomach trembles and he lets out a long exhale, like he had been holding his breathe.

           His first thrusts are slow and gentle, even if his grunts are still wolf-like : The perfect balance between dangerous and sweet, powerful and cautious… Sam Winchester. His head falls on your shoulder and he bites it, the move of his lips getting a little more sharp.

“Ah!” you scream when his teeth surprise you with a delicious scratch.

“Be quiet baby” he groans in your ear, before one of his hands lets go of your thigh to silent you.

The feeling of his oh-so-powerful hand on your mouth, and the smell of yourself on it make you crave even more and your whimpers fill every one of your breaths. Your walls pulse around him, making him hold back low moans against your skin.

           Usually, when an orgasm builds inside you, you feel every steps of it, the waves of pleasure slowly coming up… Not this time. No waves before the tsunami.

Your vision goes blank and you feel your all body reacting without your consent. Your lungs burn and your legs convulse. You feel something warm soak you and hear the wet sounds of his now erratic thrusts in your head. The pleasure is almost too much and tears roll on your face.

“Sh-shit…” he mutters, his hand almost bruising your face.

The last thing you can feel before you pass out is his cock twitching furiously and his burning cum filling you.

“Saaam…”

             You feel so good, but you can’t move, like your body had melt entirely. Opening your eyes, you meet Sam’s perfect face. He’s caring you into the woods, steady and upright, his muscular arms holding you in the safest place in the world.

           You look up and admire the stars around his head. Your hand is the first to obey again and you reach his face, catching his attention. He smiles with his heart on his face, like only can do, and you snuggle against him.

           Your tent seems so small when he puts you in it, the little warm light in it perfect for your peaceful bliss.

“Stay…” you whisper and he smiles again.

Taking his shirt off, he comes close to you and the beast is gone. He nuzzles in your chest, wrapping his arms around your body.

“I didn’t hurt you, Y/n ? Tell me…” he asks in a murmur while his hand comes under your shirt in your back.

“Sammy… this was… the best” you blush, putting your two hands in his hair to keep him close to you.

He chuckles and snuggles a little closer, making the fabric of the tent move because he touches every corner of it. You’re messy and sticky, but you are truly happy for the first time in your life.

           Silence slowly lays on you two letting you hear the wind in the willow. You kiss Sam’s hair praying he will stay, praying you could keep the man you love so close to you.

Not just until morning…

____________________________

***FEEDBACK IS EVERYTHING <3***

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[tristanlovesthequeen]

Something Smart

Tristan Arcelona

Claire Daigle

Minding the Canon HTCA-502-01

11/30/16

Artist as Purveyor of the Contemporary Landscape

The first time I saw a representation of Salvador Dali's “The Persistence of Memory” was in a cartoon on Nickelodeon called “Tiny Toons.”  I forget the exact scene but somehow this image stayed with me and has pervaded popular culture since its inception.  Dali first came up with the idea during a after a dinner party with his wife, Gala and some artist friends.  After dinner the group decided to go to the cinema and Dali decided to hang back.  He sat at the head of the table observing a loaf of Camembert cheese and pondering the super soft texture of it.  He sat down and began to work at the painting.  It was almost complete upon the return of his wife.  Upon seeing it she proclaimed that it was a sight impossible to be unseen.

The simplicity of the initial concept of soft cheese was then taken to the next step through Dali's hyper paranoiac conceptualism and then taken even further by art critics, theorists, and historians who believed it had to do with Einstein's theory of relativity.  Later on in Dali's career he began to paint about this topic, with the advent of nuclear physics and string theory, molecular structures and DNA mapping.  This is an instance of artist creating a brand, and the symbiotic relationship between the supply chain and the demand creating new technologies, hybridized paintings, and advancement in concept.  Dali drifted between faith systems his entire life, finding sources of inspiration and exploring them, sharing his findings and experiments through the medium of art.  What started as landscape and portraiture evolved into impressionism then cubism and then his most famous surrealist stage.  This period explored the concept of dream reality and meaning of dream symbols which directly connected him to the theories of Sigmund Freud.  When criticized by fellow surrealists as purely a commercial painter, he denounced surrealism, needing only his wife Gala.  He lived a life in the spotlight through wars, moving from Europe to New York and back again.  He progressed the ideas explored in surrealism to scientific theorems and in the tail end of his career he became more of a faith based painter.

Sometimes the mythology of a painting's creation is more interesting than the painting itself.  It's reputation precedes it and therefore it achieves high levels of fame.  One such painting is “Dance at the Moulin de la Galette” by Renoir.  The Moulin de la Galette was a popular dance hall/ bar/ restaurant for the impressionists to meet in Montmarte Paris, France during the late 1800's.  Pierre Auguste Renoir had a studio nearby.  Legend has it that everyday he would carry the canvas with a friend down to the Moulin de la Galette and set up his easel.  

Renoir leased a studio at 12 Rue Cortot, in April 1875.  It came furnished and had two floors, where he lived with his brother.  He made several studies at the Moulin de la Galette.  Renoir's civil servant friend Georges Riviere writes how friends helped carry the canvas back and forth “We would carry this canvas every day from the rue cortot to the moulin, because the painting was executed entirely on the spot.  This was not without difficulties, when the wind blew and the big canvas threatened to fly away like a kite over the Butte.” (pg. 64)

Renoir used his friends and acquaintances from all walks of life as models.  He had a favorite female sitter, whose name was Jeanne and was sixteen who refused the main role in the painting but appears later in life as the main character in “The Swing.”  Instead, her sister Estelle models the pink and blue ribbon dress.

Renoir went through a period in his life where he and his fellow impressionist compatriots were penniless.  Renoir combated this period in his life by writing letters to friends asking for money, also by staying with fellow artists such as Monet.  It seemed the impressionist vision was fading with the salon show actually losing money and his artist group parting ways.  His main gallerist Durand-ruel closed his London location and it seemed that all was lost.  Famished, Renoir started painting portraits and with a stroke of luck and genius, he was able to make the acquaintance of one of Duret's friends Deudon, who was a wealthy lawyer and owner of a clothing store Old England.  Duedon comissioned him to paint a mural in his estate, a portrait of Madame Duedon and five of his finished pieces.  

This granted Renoir passage to build upon what he had been pursuing with his portrait studies to create the symphony of motion and light that we know as Bal du Moulin de la Galette.  After exhibiting, he was able to land several published reviews as was the style at the time.  However, instead of advancing his process and concept, the reviews were mostly negative, 2/6 were favorable.

Most of Renoir's paintings are figurative, all signifying spacial pictoral depth.  Some are landscape.  Now they seem highly unoriginal, the best part about them being the color and motion of brushstroke.  His model choice changed slightly over the years, yet remained mostly young white women, beginning with light red hair and progressing to black.  He undeniably had a type, at his worst remained a blank, doll-like expression.  Even in the Bal du Moulin de la Galette, his most populated painting, it looks as though the main female model repeats over and over as though she were dancing with her clones.  However, he combats this with the dappled shadows from the overhanging branches, the representation of the contemporary styles of the time, and the bright and sunny disposition of all the participants of the scene.  One cannot help but feel nostalgic for a period that would not have existed if the Impressionists had not imagined and created it.  

Advance time about a hundred years or more and we find Bruce la Bruce's movie Super 8 1/2.  This movie is a mockumentary based on a queer fetishistic porn producer's life and work.  Things have changed since the 90's, with the advancement of the internet interrupting basically every aspect of our lives.  Porn is everywhere.  This movie is reminiscent of John Waters' tongue in cheek reality.  The stars are not perfect right wing citizens, they are “underground” and rife with problems, and we see how very real they are.  The main character takes after Andy Warhol, he has taken to alcoholism and lives in a dingy room with aluminum colored space blankets on the walls.  He is always in a state of heartbreak and his relationships with his costars are argumentative and violent.  

Googie is an adventurous porn producer who finds her subjects in mysterious ways.  She finds a lesbian couple hooking up in a graveyard and casts them as her new stars.  A confessional interview shows them talking about their threesomes with strangers and hatred for hetero cis men. They like to “fuck them, and fuck with their minds.”  Wednesday and Friday describe going into clubs with a pair of scissors and cutting off straight men's ponytails.  They aren't serious strippers, they are quirky and take their sexuality and dancing with a slight humorous bend.  

The stars are full of themselves and obsessed with fame.  Their egos cause them to blow up in violent outbursts at each other and exploit each other.  The difference between Bruce la Bruce's porn and every other run of the mill porn filmed in New York or the valley, is that these stars have been given credit for being avant garde art stars. One such plot is Bruce driving an old Jaguar down a a desolate country road and hitting a hitchhiker.  He gets out of the car to check on the man who he has hit and ends up getting a blowjob when he regains consciousness.  The movie concludes with the stranger throwing up on the side of the road and Bruce hopping back in the car and driving away.

A movie directed by Googie and starring Wednesday and Friday, the two lesbian “sisters,” pictures them holding a man up with a WWII army beretta, lubing up his rear and shoving the covered pistol in his behind.  They finish him off by stripping him bare in the brush, powdering him and equipping him with a diaper.

The movie is a black comedy.  Visually it is devoid of colour. Needless to say, it is weighty in its stark portrayal of a scene that is hardly ever represented in the main stream without being over glorified.  It is an industry, much like the meat industry, that remains invisible in its process, yet is pervasive throughout history, since the dawn of photography.  It has it's parallels in the art scene, with painters and photographers alike representing models who may or may not have participated in porn shoots.  The credit goes to the artist usually, with the model being a conduit to his concept, and it is impossible to see how much the subject actually contributed to the process and final image.

Eventually we see Bruce's participation in the industry drowning him in sorrow. He stumbles around the courtyard of an insane asylum in black doc martens, white pants, and a white straight jacket.  He has been exploited to no end, what was supposed to save his career, the interviews and collaborations, actually detrimented from it.  His friend describes him as losing touch with reality, blurring the line between his movies and his waking life.  We see him shellshocked on camera dropping a line of infinite wisdom and rebuking it, attempting to cover his tracks, rephrasing it as if it can be edited out of the space time continuum.

The film is filmed in low-fi black and white with almost no budget. Needless to say, it is an art film.  It documents a sub culture that concerns itself with a subversive beauty, that the mainstream is dangerous.  It takes hard work no matter what you do, whoever said being a pornstar is easy?  We see the image of a young black man on a benchpress, the director condemning him for not being able to get it up, that he has had “Three fluffers already.”  That the price of fame might be the price of your mental well being, that the more one departs from mainstream society the more danger one welcomes into their personality.  That somehow being beautiful and volatile gives you control over others, it creates a desire in them to do your will. However, it is only tolerable for a short period of time.  Misery loves company but it also attracts a certain type of self aware genius.  We are only comfortable with our avarice in the midst of a reflection, and when that reflection starts to change we are disgusted and need to move on.  We accept that life is hard and must accept the most gruesome of challenges because our ability to tolerate and moderate these events bring us a sense of personal satisfaction, the sense of grit to survive.  The fear always lies with our insecurities.  When will this life bring me under?  How much is too much?  In this industry, pain and substance abuse go hand in hand.  In theory, the dampening of the limbic system allows us to surpass the constant onslaught of painful memories.  What is actually happening is quite the opposite.  How one chooses to combat these issues or feelings depends on a personality type or a type of abuse someone has endured in the past, whether it was mental, physical or sexual.  Occasionally people attempt to welcome back this type of abuse into their lives, they put themselves in situations that repeat or glorify an abusive situation and it becomes a cycle without rebirth leading to their ultimate destruction and downfall.  Given the right willpower, resources, and technique one can break this cycle.  Life is not without pitfalls and setbacks, but only if we take them that way.  This can lead us further into space or further equip us to deal with life has to offer us.  

Ultimately society was not built to do us any favors.  The kind of free sexual rebellion that this movie introduces is somewhat refreshing somewhat stale.  It shows us that this behavior might not land us in prison, but might lead us to a sort of mental exile where we feel alien to the world.  The world has offered us an escape from mainstream only to find that we are caught in another mainstream. Crimes against humanity are rampant wherever we go and it is not until we accept them as part of our culture that we find any release.

Tony smith created the steel sculpture “Die” in 1968 with the intention of representing the “square root” of six.  It is literally six by six feet, metaphorically representing death by being six feet deep and a six foot box.  It is brooding in its intentionality, also seems to be a means to an end goal of traveling to New York.  The NGA describes the piece as “embracing the heroic and humanistic attitudes associated with abstract expressionist art of the 1950's,” however I would describe the movement as one filled mostly with a sense of white male machismo.  How could he have not noticed the gigantic black cube in the middle of Jerusalem called the Kaaba which houses the holy book of the Q'uuraan?  Millions of people flock to the religious site each year to pay homage to the prophet Muhammad.  Arguably, this is an even larger homage to organized religion and the prowess of another man of a separate ethnicity. Both cubes are homages to death, one is immensely popular and other remains a mirror of a small dying culture, we shall presume the reader knows which one is which.  

Sometimes art is less conceptual as a metaphor for what is already present in life, and turns into a science project that invigorates the future of materiality, which is what all visual art media is based.  Traditional materials are often decided by trends in the economy, sudden turns of fate determine which path is chosen and which materials will become the new norm.  What replaced the steam engine with the gasoline powered motorcar and what replaced paper made from trees instead of hemp, was usually a rich investor that decided it was easier to pollute than to create something that is sustainable and equally as useful.  What we have now is a bunch of overworked, underpaid employees that are just as polluted in their minds as the environments lakes and rivers.  

Iris van Herpen is a designer that falls into a new genre of material futures.  Material futures deals with finding a category of unsustainable or overused materiality, whether it be, organs, meat that we eat, or clothes that we wear.  She creates new fabrics that are produced using 3d scans and furthermore printed and stitched by hand and machine to create designs reminiscent of HR Giger meets fairy princess, Hufflepuff meets Slitheryn in Harry Potter fan lore. She is conducting science with the touch of a skilled wizard, producing new leather from cow cells and lightweight fabrics lighter than silk.  This technology continues to progress around the world. Her theory is not that we should be creating new wearable technologies that are stylistically unsound, meant to connect us to the outside world without bringing anything new to the physical realm.  Her textures and textiles connote that we can represent how we feel and what we have experienced through  a suit that we wear. 3D printing is becoming more accessible, to the point that people could do it “if they could only find the time.”  If Iris van Herpen ever becomes mainstream we might not find the time to leave the house in the morning, staring at our reflections, robing and disrobing again until we can find the right form to describe our ever changing mood.

As it so happens, Iris van Herpen interned for Alexander McQueen, a famous English fashion designer who has died but his name still rings on.  Before his death in 2010, he put together a show called VOSS, in which models were to reenact the mentality of being in an inpatient unit.  Models shaped like gazelles stumble around in high heels looking posh and sleek with some sort of headdress that looks as though they have strapped pantyhose to their heads.  Kate moss fumbles at the walls, which, are double sided mirrors, the audience can see in but none of the models on the runway can see out.  The models, while nice to look at, sporting some amazing designs by McQueen, are perhaps not the most interesting part of the show.  The climax comes, as the large rectangular rhombus in the center of the room comes crashing open, glass shatter and butterflies spread everywhere, fluttering about in the light.  The main character, unclear whether she is the protagonist/ antagonist, reclines nude inside the cube, sporting a gas mask with concord wings a precursor to a character in Mad Max Fury Road.  

It just so happens that this model is Michelle Olley, a London based writer and magazine editor who specializes in culture.  She was a key figure in queer and fetish culture in the 80's and 90's and has since hopped around from job to job and now works as content manager for Turner Broadcasting's Adult Swim.  On her blog, she describes the experience of being involved in the project.  The all around stress she was under and the real life torture she felt being kept in the box.

“If it weren’t for yoga I’d be in absolute agony by now. I can’t move much because moving breaks wings; my lower leg is dead after about twenty minutes on the chair. I’ve got at least an hour and a half alone in here, and that’s if the show starts on time, which of course they never, ever do. After about another fifteen minutes my right shoulder, which is leaning on a cushion, starts to ache. I’m clutching onto Stephen’s best scalpel—which I need to slash open the butterfly net that contains 250 live moths and butterflies. I’m holding the net in my other hand trying to keep it still so I don’t disturb them. The radio earpieces are throbbing—they’ve been hurting since they wrapped the bandages round them. It’s not too bad in the mask. I can breathe OK. The temperature is awful, though. They need to keep it cold in there so that the moths will remain still/placid. Cold air is being piped in, as when the lights go on at showtime, it’s going to get really hot. The cold air is giving me goose bumps and making the glue/moth parts all around my body really itchy. My head’s hot, my body’s freezing. Time to test whether they really are listening at all times. I ask Anna to turn off the air con and they agree to give it a rest for ten minutes. I have no idea how long it took to shut it off or low long it was off for, but it wasn’t enough. Before I know it, the pipes are blowing again—sending another flurry of broken wings and antennas off me and I’m shivering. Anna tells me they’re running about twenty minutes late (it was about an hour to the official start by this point). By this stage I have no idea how long I’ve been in there, or how long I have left. Time has ceased to be quantifiable. I’m too focused on not thinking about my discomfort, not getting emotional, saying warm and not thinking about the fact I was busting for a pee. I just wanted desperately to get it over with. Sometime later Anna calls to say it would be another fifteen minutes on top of the twenty (“We’re waiting for Gwyneth, who’s stuck in traffic”). Bring. It. On. Before getting in the box, I’d seen all the names on the chairs through the two-way mirrored glass. Paltrow was at my feet, next to Nick and Charlotte Knight; my backside was right to Isabella Blow, Grace Jones, Sharlene from Texas and Ronnie and Jo Wood. Could they tell I was hatching a radio mic? I’d also spotted Tracy Chapman, Tracey Emin and Jake Chapman’s names on the chairs. My early comment about “doing it for art” was coming true in an unexpected fashion...

No, it’s the art thing again. I want people to know what I just went through wasn’t a breeze and I did it for art. Yes, art. Because I believe it’s worth going through that much palaver if it creates a strong image that conveys an important idea. And I believe that the idea that we are trapped by our “civilized,” socially approved identities is massively important. It causes women so much suffering. Fear of aging, fear of not being thin enough. Fear of not having the right clothes. Fear of our animal natures that we carry in our DNA—fish, bird, lizard, insect, mammal. We’ve never had it more techno, we’ve never needed it more human. We humans living now still cannot turn ourselves into perfect beings, no matter how long we spend at the gym, beauty parlour, shops, etc.”

Sometimes it takes a whole orchestra of behind the scenes folks to get a project realized.  Sometimes it is only a handful of people who receive the credit for a massive undertaking such as this.  Why is Tracy Chapman still relevant?  Because she is involved with the culture.  And when all is said and done, however equally distributed the pain and strife of the work that was completed, we still live in a world where Benjamin Franklin is accredited with the discovery of electricity.  Perhaps McQueen would have not felt so weighed down by the responsibility of stardom if the attention received for such a project was distributed with more equity.  Michelle Olley still learned a valuable lesson in body image from the experience of participating in the project, so it seems that process can be the most important part of creation.

Haruki Murakami writes in his novel Kafka on the Shore, “That’s why I like to listen to Schubert while I’m driving. Like I said, it’s because all the performances are imperfect. A dense, artistic kind of imperfection stimulates your consciousness, keeps you alert. If I listen to some utterly perfect performance of an utterly perfect piece while I’m driving, I might want to close my eyes and die right then and there. But listening to the D major, I can feel the limits of what humans are capable of—that a certain type of perfection can only be realized through a limitless accumulation of the imperfect. And personally, I find that encouraging.”

Contemporary art seems to operate solely upon this concept, that there are continuous builds based upon the notion that everything here is imperfect.  Competition is based on this nodule that human kind has something to prove, that there is somehow something better to be strived for.  Competition within contemporary art pushes boundaries of what is conceptual, accepted, what element of art history the piece is derived from, and what new materials can be used.  Since there is no purpose in striving for perfection, it eliminates the competition within the art world.  What is left is abstract free flowing ideas.  Competition in the art world, it seems only exists within the art market.  Survival of the fittest is based on who has the latest advancement in technology “who has the biggest guns” and who can obtain the largest chunk of the economy.  Eventually people try to compensate by dumping the largest amount of money into a particular project, here size of the object, materiality, location, and finish come into play.  What is left can be impactful, just because of the immense capabilities of one particular artist.  

The Japanese synth composer Yuzo Koshiro, who is famous for his video game scores during the 90's describes this concept when being called the king of FM synthesis.  “It’s an honour for me. Though there are a lot of people who use the FM synth well. As I said before, in terms of game music... Trying to use an FM synth with MIDI had so many restrictions. I don’t think people could use the chip to its full potential exactly as they wanted. Since I made my own editor and driver, I could control everything about the chip down to the fine details. So I think that’s why I was able produce that level of sound. I definitely don’t think I’m great at making quality tones though. Being able to control every little thing freely was one of the main reasons I received that kind of praise.”  Koshiro was able to fine tune his process by using his own tools, which he developed, using his own ideal of how he saw the future.  Still, he believes the final product was not the embodiment of perfection.  He finds that the more one plays through a video game with the music that he has composed, the more the melodies grow on us.

“Is it the quiet shore of contemplation that I set aside for myself, as I lay bare, under the cunning, orderly surface of civilizations, the nurturing horror that they attend to pushing aside by purifying, systematizing, and thinking; the horror that they seize on in order to build themselves up and function?  I rather conceive it as a work of disappointment, of frustration and hollowing—probably the only counterweight to abjection.  While everything else –its archaeology and its exhaustion—is only literature:  The sublime point at which the abject collapses in a burst of beauty that overwhelms us—and that cancels our existence” Kristeva.

Kristeva's “Powers of Horror” is a long, drawn out study on the abject.  How she was able to complete such a tour de force is beyond us, which is probably why it seems so intelligent.  She was able to sustain concentration on the most unbearable subjects, and most art students, given the the task of completing the entire transcript, are unable to do so.  If there is one positive concept to be derived from this reading, it is that the abject is necessary in small doses, in order to achieve the opposite.  What disrupts and disgusts us can make us believe that there is an opposite.  That notion is described in the quote as the sublime.  

If we look at the hollowness of space as terrifying, then we see why people decide to huddle together within city walls.  We condense only to realize that this too, can be perceived as abject, and in the instance, we decide to disperse.  In this way, the feeling of abjection can flip flop, all at once describing the fickle nature of the human personality, and the lightness of being alive.

“Women artists are more inward-looking, more delicate and nuanced in their treatment of their medium, it may be asserted. But which of the women artists cited above is more inward-turning then Redon, more subtle and nuanced in the handling of pigment than Corot? Is Fragonard more or less feminine than Mme. Vigee-Lebrun? Or is it not more a question of the whole Rococo style of eighteenth-century France being "feminine," if judged in terms of a binary scale of "masculinity" versus "femininity"? Certainly, if daintiness, delicacy, and preciousness are to be counted as earmarks of a feminine style, there is nothing fragile about Rosa Bonheur's Horse Fair, nor dainty and introverted about Helen Frankenthaler's giant canvases. If women have turned to scenes of domestic life, or of children. so did Jan Steen, Chardin, and the Impressionists-- Renoir and Monet as well as Morisot and Cassatt. In any case, the mere choice of a certain realm of subject matter, or the restriction to certain subjects, is not to be equated with a style, much less with some sort of quintessentially feminine style.”

Traditionally, throughout history, most of the credit of winning has been given to men.  Credit is sometimes equated to fame, such as Alexander McQueen's stylistic designs and art shows, where there are numerous participants.  However, what equates fame?  How do we quantify how well known something is?  If something that lives in our hearts is more important than fame, how is it that we measure?  Many ideas presented in the art history canon have been proposed by women first. We see this in the example of Carolee Schneemann's “Meat Joy” and also “Up to and Including Her Limits.”  Matthew Barney used the same ideas in his piece “Drawing Restraint” several years later and arguably received more credit.  He is also referencing his “personal mythology,” which might include pieces that Schneemann has produced.  Meat Joy creates a scene where the body is abjectly presented as a vessel of meat, flesh we consume is also the flesh we destroy, and the theme of abject flesh is now popularized in contemporaries like Jenny Saville.  Where once upon a time it was popular to idealize the human form, it is now popular to debunk the myth of a perfect form and present the new ideal as a medley of body types and human characteristics, not ignoring the ever presence of the abundance of flesh, and bodily fluids.  In terms of art, the gender of the object is attributed to whomever created it, no matter how rugged or polished the piece may be.  The independence of women artists does not suggest that they did not particularly belong to a certain school or class of artists, it just means that they were not recognized for being there.  Since the presence of art history is also based upon the presence of critics and historians, the relationships between these individuals and the people they chose to represent is important too.  The interpersonal relationships amongst individuals in the art world also influence who receives a review. Ana Mendietta is mostly recognized for her relationship with Carl Andre, as Lucian Freud is mostly recognized because he is grandson to Sigmund Freud.  Not to say either is necessarily without talent, which is quite the opposite, however people are recognized mostly from their upbringing and what circles they revolve in.

Which leaves me believing something is missing within the art world and the world at large.  We all experience the sense of the void, which is a mirror of the total amount of dark matter in the universe.  There is something amiss, and we are not quite sure what it is.  The Fifth Element addresses this concept, with the notion that there is a missing element that will save the universe.  With designs by Jean Giraud Moebius and Jean Paul Gaultier, this french cult classic is one of the most visually stunning movies to date.  

The plot revolves around the main character Korben Dallas and his relationship with the embodiment of the fifth element, Leeloo.  She is a fanboy's dream, a young model actress that does not speak English, is the visage of perfection but does not have any visual or cultural preference of her own to speak of, nor any knowledge of who she is or what humans are.  Besides this general monotony, she contains an element that is activated by a particular piece of knowledge.  What Korben Dallas teaches her, is the concept of love.  This is the final unifying element in the universe, the one that clarifies the dream, and brings light to an otherwise dark place.  No matter what your belief system is, if you are a human, animal, sentient being, this rings true.  What is the essence of life, what is the point of materiality if there is no feeling there?

With my own work, I feel a sense of displacement usually rather than belonging.  A jumble of ideas are mashed together usually to bring a solution to some sort of negativity, in order to see the light shine through.  Many artists use their art as a way to connect on a broader spectrum, in this way I am no different.  I find that personally I connect best at a small scale, one or two people rather than a huge group.  Limiting options of who to talk to can create a stronger bond, as if limiting one's palate, in order to know what is truly motivating one's soul.  

With what I create, I tend to maximize my reference points.  I create a mashup of things I have experienced, usually told in the form of a fable created through symbolism of images derived from 90's pop culture.  Perhaps this is me bringing to the forefront the notion of keeping my childhood alive, by subliming memories of contemporary life.  Art can be about breaking free of limits, so my process constantly changes to remove myself from an XY axis and a grid, to constantly build and destroy, to remove anger, hate, and turn it into love.  

This semester I have learned a few things about the art world and art school in specific.  There are a few key tropes that reoccur and navigating them is mostly about the language used to describe them. For example, using the word umwelt for someone's personal bubble; using the term post humanism when someone really means Sci-fi; structuralism for patterns that repeat; anthropocene for the current affect of global warming.  Part of the interchangeability of words to describe these things has to do with the malleability of the ideas themselves.  As we saw with Salvador Dali's study of string theory, different personal views conjure up different worlds.  The study of these worlds leads us on our own personal journeys.  We envelop these concepts and let the future unfold, perhaps we use art as the mechanism to advance human kind.  I always thought of art as some kind of pseudo-science, now I can say that these things are interchangeable, art can be science, theory, personal reflection, fortune telling, and the economy.  The mythology that leads us here today can change time.  

Works Cited

Barbara Ehrlich White, Renoir His Life Art and Letters. 1984. Harry N. Abrams, Inc.  New York

NGA.gov for tony smith's die

http://www.nytimes.com/2015/04/08/t-magazine/iris-van-herpen-designer-interview.html?_r=0

http://blog.metmuseum.org/alexandermcqueen/michelle-olley-voss-diary/

http://daily.redbullmusicacademy.com/2014/09/yuzo-koshiro-interview

The fifth element

[lost-in-zembla]

On Metamodernism

It’s tough to grasp metamodernism as an artistic movement but most of us live lives strongly affected by the concepts of metamodernism every day. You’re having a serious conversation with your friend about her mental health; simultaneously, you and your friend are part of a groupchat where you are currently making fun of the very friend you are supporting. This isn’t necessarily disingenuous; you are witnessing two different instances of a person and those two instantiations of you happen to be different depending on context and medium. In part, metamodernism is a kind of acceptance of our multiple selves, our tendency to oscillate between states or even inhabit both in a sort of human superposition.

I taught my friends about metamodernism in our groupchat as my friend Jarett consoled me via one-on-one text after the sudden implosion of my five-year long relationship and the fact that my life is generally unbearable—a fact that is more embarrassing when one considers how easy I have it. It’s sort of a shame feedback loop. 

As I was explaining metamodernism for my own satisfaction, I thought that I might actually make an okay professor. I could teach American literature. Maybe. 

So I get a job teaching at the local community college and my life slowly comes back together like a cut that heals. I am relatively respected by my students and I have some abstract sense purpose, the cracks in the surface of which are only visible if one spends a long, existential period of time contemplating the practical or, god-forbid, spiritual uses of an education in American literature what with the reality of a global climate catastrophe and the approaching drumbeats of right-wing strongmen leaders reaching positions of power all around the world.

But things are pretty good.

I get a parking space. I get an apartment that looks bad, then looks better. I start to open the curtains. I don’t want to hide so much. A year or two down the line I lease a practical car and people treat me with a bit more respect when they see me step out of it. I smile at people in the grocery store. At this point I can see peoples’ mouths when I go outside. When I see their mouths, they’re smiling. They can see my mouth. I’m smiling.

I get to know people and people think I’m lovely. The faculty all look up to me. How young and handsome and intelligent he is! He’ll sure go places, they say. And I do. I quickly earn a raise and then I’m head of the department. And so young! When I’m not inspiring awe I inspire smoldering jealousy. Women? Naturally. And I treat each of them with utmost respect. I value these women for more than the thousands of hours of hot naked ecstasy they provide me. I buy more fresh produce. I throw none of it out.

I single-handedly save the English department at the community college. Funding comes pouring in. Eventually, it becomes one of the premier colleges for literary studies in the Midwest. They rename a building after me. I just turned thirty. Before long, I’m offered a job at the prestigious private university in town, with nods toward a proverbial shoe in the door when it comes to tenure. Unheard of! But he’s just that good. My wrists and forearms become perceptibly thicker. People cross the street in front of traffic to shake my hand. I learn what the fuck “ketosis” is.

Then there I am one day in my cushy office. Rows of leather-bound books fill the shelves around the ample perimeter of the room. I’ve read them all, naturally. My hair has started to grey in places but damn if it’s not as thick and lush as the heart of the Amazon. A knock on the door. My office hours ended at one. I answer and it’s, oh, Claire from this semester’s modern American literature course. Of course I’ve noticed her in class. How could I not? But I’d always maintained a professional and appropriately avuncular demeanor in front of her. She’s twenty-eight, French, gorgeous. Naturally.

We discuss her essay on Light in August and I say to her, you know, Claire, it was the French who were among the first to notice Faulkner’s genius. She puts her hand on my thigh. In her accent that itself somehow resembles a beautiful naked body she says, The French notice lots of things. I slide my attractively thick forearm over the crowded desk space and knock the books and pens and everything onto the floor and—well, let’s just say that my life of success and talent has enhanced me in other ways. And it’s hot and insane and weird and papers fly everywhere. And it sort of just goes on like that for weeks and then months—the relationship, not that particular sexual event. At my age, after all the sex and drugs and joy and tragedy, sometimes I think that it’s the clandestine nature of the thing that really gets me off. Like I need more and more secret or shameful shit to fire off those tired old neurons. I start to become cavalier in front of the students. I begin to, perhaps, show my hand. 

I get another knock on my office, sometime in the Spring. Bill, I say. Come in. He sits down and we engage in a tense discussion where every syllable is laced with a double entendre because he can’t just say it out loud, for Christ’s sake. That’s just not how these things are done. He’s old school, but firm, Bill. She’s graduating anyway, and something tells me when we can finally be together publicly then the thrill will already be gone. 

The students already know. I’ve seen the screenshots. I’ve been memed. Things are tense in class and they can tell that I’ve given up. The fire in my eye that led to my meteoric rise has dimmed to a pathetic ember. Sometimes I take my Audi out on a dark highway outside of town and I press on the accelerator until I can’t go any faster. I have to stop myself from shutting my eyes.

One day in class, I look up from my papers and all the students are out of their desks, standing over me. They’re holding pencils and yardsticks that have been modified into edged weapons. What’s the meaning of this? They use my Tom Ford tie to tie my arms behind me and to my chair. They put me in the center of the room. I knew they would betray me. I’d always known. For years this notion has haunted the deepest recesses of my mind: these people, these kids, are going to be the ones to put this old dog down. Is this because of Claire, I ask. They laugh. They laugh because they think I’m an old fool. I am an old fool.

No, professor, Shellie says. She seems to be the leader. It’s much more serious than that, she says. O life! Everything I’ve ever done. I’ve stomped on people all the way to the top and now it’s all coming back to me, some sort of holdup in the karmic clerical system that led to forty years of consequences all delivered at once. Things were so easy for so long, so fun, that I forgot what it was like to live a life with consequences.

Shut up, she says. You’re here for a reason. What could she know? How did she mobilize all of these students? When did they make the weapons? How many questions could I possibly pose in sequence?

Professor, she says, we have one question for you. Anything, I say. And answer truthfully, she says. And I say of course, of course I’ll be completely honest. Okay, professor, she says, do you consider yourself… a historicist? At this very moment I know it’s over for me. Well, I say, it’s not so simple, Shellie. The mob is in an uproar. A fair bit of verbal sparring ensues. Shellie and the other students in favor of the transcendent nature of literature—whatever that means—and me in favor of a more context-based approach. Sure, if I thought that novels were a good way to learn about history then I’d deserve this. I’d deserve all of this.

How can you read these works outside of their historical context? What about Light in August for God’s sake?  The mob lashes out again—not Faulkner fans, go figure—but Shellie shushes them until the classroom is as silent as the dusty hills of Jerusalem. Literature, she says, is timeless. And this essentially breaks me. I begin weeping openly. You might as well kill me, then, I say. They set upon me like a pack of hyenas. 

A moment or an eternity after my head is pulled off my body like the Bacchae in that Euripides tragedy, I hear waves lap against the rocks. I feel in my face the salty breeze of the ocean. I open my eyes to find a beautiful Mediterranean island. It feels neither hot nor cold. The breeze from the ocean feels perfect, as though there were no storms to be found in any corner of the Earth.

Behind me, inland, I hear the sound of approaching footsteps. I turn around to find Vladimir goddamn Nabokov of all people. It’s perfect. So I tell him the story, how I was murdered by my students over two reductive and non-mutually exclusive schools of thought in literature—two schools of thought that are both perfect lenses through which to view Nabokov’s work. When I tell him he laughs his big Russian laugh and slaps me on the shoulder, and I laugh. Then he hands me a butterfly net and we skip through pleasant hills in that vast and timeless place forever and ever.

No. What’s happening? It’s all slipping away from me now. All the memories, the moments, the time, leaking out of my mind to become something ghostly, an image half-developed, a thought unspoken. I lift my head and look at my hands and there I am, lying on a couch in a high school faculty lounge. My hands are unwrinkled. My body is young. There is no Humanities Wing in my name, no tenure, no Audi. No Claire. Was it all just a dream? Could it all have been just a dream? Is it within the realm of possibility that such an absurdly bad trope could have manifested into my life naturally? Or am I the subject of a cruel and untalented god who simply bats me about and writes hack narratives for me to tumble through like some Sisyphean Rube Goldberg machine? Coffee. Need Coffee.

It’s all silly, anyway. Nabokov and myself cavorting through some weird Elysium? Ridiculous. If that was what the afterlife had in store for me, then Nabokov would probably be hanging out with Pushkin and Tolstoy while maybe Dostoevsky and I build a sandcastle. Maybe. But then, in all likelihood, Nabokov, Pushkin, Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, and the other cool kids would kick sand in my face and walk off with whatever beautiful ladies happen to inhabit this weird Russian-literary Elysium that I’ve somehow ended up in. I haven’t thought this out very well.

What was this all about, again? Metamodernism. Easy. Let’s think.

Okay.

As I write this now, behind my computer, watching Youtube videos about sushi, wondering how the sushi will make its way into my writing through mental osmosis (not subtly, it turns out), I look at these instances of me, with the meteoric success or the banal day-to-day life, and I wonder who exactly I am. I am a thousand selves. I am nothing. I am trying to remember into the future who I am. I am a metamodernist—no, I’m not.

[faraway-wanderer]

QUEER YA READS happy pride month here’s a list of lots of queer YA books!!

-          The Henna Wars- Abida Jaigirdar When Nishat comes out to her parents, they say she can be anyone she wants—as long as she isn’t herself. Because Muslim girls aren’t lesbians. Nishat doesn’t want to hide who she is, but she also doesn’t want to lose her relationship with her family. And her life only gets harder once a childhood friend walks back into her life. Flávia is beautiful and charismatic and Nishat falls for her instantly. Amidst sabotage and school stress, their lives get more tangled—but Nishat can’t quite get rid of her crush on Flávia, and realizes there might be more to her than she realized

-          Red, White and Royal Blue- Casey Mcquinston   First Son Alex Claremont-Diaz is the closest thing to a prince this side of the Atlantic. With his intrepid sister and the Veep’s genius granddaughter, they’re the White House Trio, a beautiful millennial marketing strategy for his mother, President Ellen Claremont. International socialite duties do have downsides—namely, when photos of a confrontation with his longtime nemesis Prince Henry at a royal wedding leak to the tabloids and threaten American/British relations.

-          You should see me in a crown- Leah Johnson Liz Lighty has always believed she's too black, too poor, too awkward to shine in her small, rich, prom-obsessed midwestern town. But it's okay -- Liz has a plan that will get her out of Campbell, Indiana, forever: attend the uber-elite Pennington College, play in their world-famous orchestra, and become a doctor.But when the financial aid she was counting on unexpectedly falls through, Liz's plans come crashing down . . . until she's reminded of her school's scholarship for prom king and queen

-          Tell me How you Really Feel- Aminah Mae Safi Sana Khan is a cheerleader and a straight A student. She's the classic (somewhat obnoxious) overachiever determined to win.Rachel Recht is a wannabe director who's obsesssed with movies and ready to make her own masterpiece. As she's casting her senior film project, she knows she's found the perfect lead - Sana.There's only one problem. Rachel hates Sana. Rachel was the first girl Sana ever asked out, but Rachel thought it was a cruel prank and has detested Sana ever since.

-          Like a love story- Abdi Nazemian It's 1989 in New York City, and for three teens, the world is changing.

-          I Wish You All the Best- Mason Deaver At turns heartbreaking and joyous, I Wish You All the Best is both a celebration of life, friendship, and love, and a shining example of hope in the face of adversity.

-          The Falling in Love Montage- Ciara Smyth Saoirse doesn’t believe in love at first sight or happy endings. If they were real, her mother would still be able to remember her name and not in a care home with early onset dementia. A condition that Saoirse may one day turn out to have inherited. So she’s not looking for a relationship. She doesn’t see the point in igniting any romantic sparks if she’s bound to burn out. But after a chance encounter at an end-of-term house party, Saoirse is about to break her own rules. For a girl with one blue freckle, an irresistible sense of mischief, and a passion for rom-coms.

-          The Fascinators- Andrew Eliopulos Living in a small town where magic is frowned upon, Sam needs his friends James and Delia—and their time together in their school's magic club—to see him through to graduation.But as soon as senior year starts, little cracks in their group begin to show. Sam may or may not be in love with James. Delia is growing more frustrated with their amateur magic club. And James reveals that he got mixed up with some sketchy magickers over the summer, putting a target on all their backs.

-          The Dark Tide- Alicia Jaskina The Wicked Deep meets A Curse So Dark and Lonely in this gripping, dark fairy-tale fantasy about two girls who must choose between saving themselves, each other, or their sinking island city

-          Summer of Salt – Katrina Leno Georgina Fernweh waits with growing impatience for the tingle of magic in her fingers—magic that has been passed down through every woman in her family. Her twin sister, Mary, already shows an ability to defy gravity. But with their eighteenth birthday looming at the end of this summer, Georgina fears her gift will never come.

-          Sawkill Girls- Claire Legrand Marion: the new girl. Awkward and plain, steady and dependable. Weighed down by tragedy and hungry for love she’s sure she’ll never find. Zoey: the pariah. Luckless and lonely, hurting but hiding it. Aching with grief and dreaming of vanished girls. Maybe she’s broken—or maybe everyone else is. Val: the queen bee. Gorgeous and privileged, ruthless and regal. Words like silk and eyes like knives, a heart made of secrets and a mouth full of lies.

-          The Priory of the Orange Tree- Samantha Shannon A world divided. A queendom without an heir. An ancient enemy awakens. The House of Berethnet has ruled Inys for a thousand years. Still unwed, Queen Sabran the Ninth must conceive a daughter to protect her realm from destruction – but assassins are getting closer to her door. Ead Duryan is an outsider at court. Though she has risen to the position of lady-in-waiting, she is loyal to a hidden society of mages. Ead keeps a watchful eye on Sabran, secretly protecting her with forbidden magic. Across the dark sea, Tané has trained to be a dragonrider since she was a child, but is forced to make a choice that could see her life unravel.

-          I was Born for this- Alice Oseman For Angel Rahimi, life is only about one thing: The Ark – a pop-rock trio of teenage boys who are currently taking the world by storm. Being part of The Ark’s fandom has given her everything – her friendships, her dreams, her place in the world. Jimmy Kaga-Ricci owes everything to The Ark too. He’s their frontman – and playing in a band is all he’s ever dreamed of doing. It’s just a shame that recently everything in his life seems to have turned into a bit of a nightmare.

-          Summer Bird Blue  Akemi Dawn Bowman- Bowman’s sophomore novel follows Rumi, a young musician plagued with grief and survivor’s guilt after her younger sister is killed in a car crash. Her mother sends her to liver with her aunt in Hawaii, and is also now mourning the loss of the music she would create with her sister and is unable to recapture her passion. As she navigates her loss, and feelings of abandonment from her mother, Rumi is also starting new relationships with neighbors, one a cute, easygoing surfer boy, and the other a irascible 80-year-old crankypants, while also becoming comfortable with her aromantic and asexual feelings.An immersive aromantic, asexual journey through grief and understanding.

-          Felix Ever after- Kacen Callender   a novel about a transgender teen grappling with identity and self-discovery while falling in love for the first time.

-          The Stars and The Blackness Between Them - Junauda Petrus Audre and Mabel, Black girls who find romance just in time for everything to fall even further apart.

-          By any means necessary- Candice Montgomery By Any Means Neccesary dives into the intersection of race and sexuality through the lens of its main character, Torrey, a gay Black college student.

-          Her Royal Highness -Rachel Hawkins- When Millie Quint discovers her best friend-turned-girlfriend has been kissing someone else, she decides to get as far away from her as possible – by going to boarding school on the opposite side of the globe. The only issue? Millie’s new roomate is the actual princess of Scotland.

-          Tash Hearts Tolstoy - Kathryn Omsbee, Natasha Zelenka (Tash), is a serious fangirl of Leo Tolstoy and a rising YouTube star with her webseries Unhappy Families, a modern-day adaptation of Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, and Vlog, Tea with Tash. When a famous vlogger gives a shout out to the series, it goes viral. Now she, along with the cast and crew, are finding what it means to be a hit sensation and are managing the adoration, and the trolls, coming their way. Tash, a romantic asexual, has had a long time crush on the hit vlogger star Thom, who, as her online popular grows, so does Thom’s attention. Amidst the fame and romance, Tash is also dealing with her older sister creating distance, her parents announcing a new sibling on the way, college applications, the impending end of the series, and the big “What’s next.”An asexual romantic comedy coming of age.

-          Full Disclosure- Camryn Garratt Camryn Garrett’s debut novel follows a Black, HIV-positive teen as she explores her first romantic relationship. There are few books that discuss what it’s like to live with HIV, especially those that are light, relatable, and told through the lens of a young Black girl.

-          The Black Flamingo- Dean Atta Atta pens a coming-of-age story about a boy accepting his identity as a mixed-race gay teen, but then finds a place where he belongs as a drag artist named The Black Flamingo.

-          Juniper Leaves- Jaz Joyner   Kinky-haired  Juniper Bray used to believe in magic, until she lost her best friend: her grandmother. Now this 15-year-old shy girl is headed to her father's research trip on a farm hundreds of miles away, with a family she barely knows and the opposite of a best friend, her new arch nemesis, Bree Mckinney. As if she wasn't miserable enough. Little does she know the next few months Juniper will discover magical powers she never knew she had, get a crush on a girl she never knew she'd like and well, quite frankly, save the world.

-          Crier’s War - Nina Varela ‘In a world where humans are dominated by superior Automae, one human girl called Ayla takes the role of handmaiden to the Automae Lady Crier in order to help the human rebellion. But to Ayla’s horror, she finds herself falling for Crier.’

-          Queen of Coin and Whispers  Helen Corcoran -When a teenage queen inherits her uncle’s bankrupt kingdom, she brings with her a new spymaster – a girl who only accepted the role to avenge her murdered father. But faced with enemies at every turn, the two learn to rely on no one but each other . . . though it may bring their downfall.

-          Huntress- Malinda Lo – Ill fortune has befallen the land, and two girls have been tasked with the mission of setting things right. As Kaede and Taisin journey to the city of the Fairy Queen, adventure and romance awaits.

-          This Song Is (Not) for You - Laura Nowlin- This is not your usual love triangle. Ramona has been in love with her best friend and bandmate Sam for a long time, Sam has also been in love Ramona. When Tom joins the band, he completes them. Now Ramona is starting to have feelings for Tom, and those feelings are reciprocated. Tom is a romantic asexual, whose asexuality is fully explored

-          Seven Tears at High Tide-  C.B. Lee – After Kevin Luong drops, yup, seven tears into the sea, he ends up rescuing a boy from the waters. It’s love at first sight for Morgan who, unknown to Kevin, is a Selkie.

-          Loveless -Alice Oseman- (out on the 9th July!!) Georgia has never been in love, never kissed anyone, never even had a crush – but as a fanfic-obsessed romantic she’s sure she’ll find her person one day.As she starts university with her best friends, Pip and Jason, in a whole new town far from home, Georgia’s ready to find romance, and with her outgoing roommate on her side and a place in the Shakespeare Society, her ‘teenage dream’ is in sight. But when her romance plan wreaks havoc amongst her friends, Georgia ends up in her own comedy of errors, and she starts to question why love seems so easy for other people but not for her. With new terms thrown at her – asexual, aromantic – Georgia is more uncertain about her feelings than ever.

-          The Last Beginning- Lauren James-  (you probably need to read the next together first which I HIGHLY recommend) Sixteen years ago, after a scandal that rocked the world, teenagers Katherine and Matthew vanished without a trace. Now Clove Sutcliffe is determined to find her long lost relatives.But where do you start looking for a couple who seem to have been reincarnated at every key moment in history? Who were Kate and Matt? Why were they born again and again? And who is the mysterious Ella, who keeps appearing at every turn in Clove's investigation? For Clove, there is a mystery to solve in the past and a love to find in the future, and failure could cost the world everything.

[sincerelyreidburke]

Hey again! So like, you are under no obligation, and I send you too many asks anyway but... if you're down for writing Spencer's reaction to A FROSH GETTING EVAN THE AUDACITY I would be so pleased :) lol

First of all: you don’t send me too many asks. I believe the phrase you’re looking for is “I enable you to write fun things often”. Which is highly encouraged, in this establishment.

Second: yes. And for those who aren’t Via, let me enlighten you. Spencer is a Kiersey College drama club OC, part of the group of characters I created to enhance Quinn’s college drama club experience (and to have more fun on “Quinn Theatre Hours” Monday nights). You can read a comprehensive introduction to the drama club cast in this fic, which tells the story of the week leading up to Quinn’s casting in Dear Evan Hansen his freshman year.

Spencer is... hm, how shall we say. A giant asshole. He’s a junior theatre kid who fully expects that the role of Evan will land neatly in his lap. This ficlet depicts as much. It takes place pretty much simultaneously with the casting fic I linked to above.

This is also a precursor of sorts to a longer drama club fic, which I’m working on, that Via has also asked after. Stay tuned for that, because there is where you’ll see some serious, well... drama.

Until then: Spencer can choke. I’m entertained by the fact that I’m now being asked to write things from the point of view of the bully. Here’s what you asked for!

//

Today is going to be an amazing day.

And here’s why. Spencer has been waiting— all week, certainly, but also for months, even since the school year began, to see something he finally gets to see today. During all three of his years at Kiersey, the spring musical has been something to look forward to, but especially this year, with so much riding on it. Today, the cast list goes up for the biggest show of his life. Today, he confirms his place in a  role he’s been dreaming of playing for months. Today, he starts to lead this year’s cast.

He knows that the show was chosen for him. Dr. C is notorious for it— she’s not shy about choosing shows based on who she has available for casting. It’s resourceful, Spencer has told her time and again; after all, you have to work with what you have. It’s like how she chose Book of Mormon last year for him— well, and for Reid, he guesses, but mostly for him. And how the director at his and Kelsie’s high school chose Thoroughly Modern Millie for the two of them their senior year.

He planted the seed for Dear Evan Hansen in Dr. C’s head last spring, an offhanded mention in a conversation, right around the time Book of Mormon was closing. He forwarded her a few articles over the summer, just to jog her interest, and he and Kelsie even went to New York to see the show in June, so he typed up a review and sent it her way. When he arrived on campus this past fall, he was thrilled to hear she’d taken his advice. It would be their spring 2018 show.

His audition went just as expected, and he read for Evan during his callback. So this morning, when he rolls out of bed at five-thirty sharp, it’s the first thing on his mind, without a doubt in it. Today is the day he starts being Evan Hansen.

He deserves this.

To start his great day, he grabs a morning workout, like always. In the gym, he sees one of the freshmen who auditioned, using an elliptical and wearing pink leggings. She has curly, golden blond hair piled into a high ponytail, full lips, and tan skin. Her name is… Maddie? Mallory? He isn’t sure, but what does it matter anyway. She was in callbacks with him last night, and she wasn’t projecting well.

So he doesn’t say hello, and doesn’t even think she’ll notice him until he passes her as he’s leaving. She’s refilling a water bottle with stickers all over it, and she waves. “Hey, Spencer.”

“Oh!” He pretends to be surprised. “Hi, Maddie.”

“Uh.” She chuckles a little, and shakes her head. “It’s— Maggie, actually.”

“Oh. Sorry about that.” He stops in front of her, and bends down— she’s a little short— to deliver a word for the wise. “Hey, by the way… don’t take it too hard if you aren’t cast in a bigger role today.” She arches an eyebrow, and he continues, because she ought to know. “There just aren’t a lot of roles that would fit… you, y’know?”

It doesn’t look like Maggie understands what he means, but she shrugs and folds her arms, all standoffish. “Well, good luck to you, too.”

“Thank you!” He flashes a smile. “It’s always great to see beginners joining the musical.”

Maggie purses her lips and scowls as he turns to go. Huh. What a bitch. He was only telling her what she needed to hear.

Well, it’s her loss. Freshmen rarely ever get speaking roles. And it’s not like Zoe is going to anybody besides Kelsie.

He texts his girlfriend on the way out of the gym. Kelsie is an early riser, too, but she doesn’t work out in the morning like he does. By now, in her morning routine, she’ll be through with her shower and doing her hair.

They meet for breakfast every morning, but this morning, it’ll be a quick affair. The cast list goes up at 9:00 sharp in the Beckett Performing Arts Center lobby, and they have every intention to be the first ones there.

So Spencer showers and gets dressed, donning a blue shirt for the occasion. He meets up with Kelsie in the lobby of their dorm, and they walk to the dining hall hand-in-hand, leaving right around 8:00. It’s sunny out today, but still freezing cold.

“So,” she asks him, as they stroll down the sidewalk. “Any bold predictions?” She pauses to grin and bump against his hip, as she adds, “Besides the obvious.”

Spencer beams. He loves their relationship for so many reasons, but especially because they support each other so well. “Well,” he begins, pulling his stocking cap down on his head. “I think Reid is a dead ringer for Jared.” Which will be easy, because although Reid is unfunny at best, Spencer is used to working with him; he got well accustomed to it on Book of Mormon.

“Oh, absolutely.” Kelsie nods. “And I think… Claire, as Heidi? I can’t be sure, but—” She pauses for an exaggerated eyeroll, which is absolutely warranted, because Claire is such a goody two-shoes it’s insufferable. “I know Dr. C likes giving her principal roles.”

“Which I, for one, do not understand,” he quips.

“Tell me about it.” Kelsie sighs, then shakes her head. “But I could see Claire going that way.”

“I could, as well.” He pauses, racks his brain of the names on the audition list. He checked it religiously, to see who was trying to get involved, even after he had secured his spot as first on the list. “And… hm… alright, I’m not saying I’d like to see Danny Cho as Larry, but given they didn’t run his part in callbacks at all last night…”

“Mm,” Kelsie hums. “I think you’re right. That’s a shame. His singing is suspect at best.”

“And his acting…” He sighs. “I hope he can pull it off.”

“Maybe he can.” Kelsie swings his hand a little, and they sidestep for a rushing student who must be late to their eight-AM class. When they regain sidewalk space, she looks to him, smoothing her bangs, and asks, “And Connor?...”

“Hm.” Spencer’s mind lands on someone, but it’s an underwhelming thought. “Cole?”

“Oh.” Kelsie pauses, like she forgot he existed. Which is easy to do, because Cole, the sophomore he’s thinking of, is quiet and irrelevant. Spencer was surprised to see him audition; he played guitar in the pit for Book of Mormon, and from there he always assumed he was a fly-under-the-radar type. But he read all of Connor’s parts in callbacks. “Well, he has the look.”

“It’s a typecast,” he agrees. “He seems… sketchy?”

“Right? Kind of a weirdo,” Kelsie says. She raises an eyebrow at him, and asks, “Do you think you could work with him?”

“Well, it isn’t like I’ll have much of a choice,” he remarks. “But who knows? Maybe someone else will get Connor.”

“Maybe.” Kelsie pauses, then smiles and says, “You can do it.”

He kisses her cheek, as they walk along. “Thank you.”

From there, they move onto a rehearsal schedule tangent. It’s not until they’re almost at the dining hall that casting gets brought up again. “What about that kid?” Kelsie asks, suddenly, almost laughing. “The really short one, the freshman? Could he beat out Cole or Danny?”

“Oh…” Spencer thinks he knows who she means. “Scarf kid?” When she nods, he laughs out loud. “I highly doubt he’ll be seeing the cast list. I mean, Kels, he’s a freshman.”

“That’s true.” She shrugs. “You did get Anthony freshman year, though…”

He straightens a little as he walks, because it still makes him proud to think about Sweeney Todd freshman year. “I reserve myself as a small exception to the rule.”

Kelsie grins. “You’re gonna be great, babe,” she says, and even though he knows he will be, it still feels nice to hear it.

Breakfast is very nice. He has scrambled eggs and sausage patties from the grill, and she has a fruit salad with unsweetened tea, in accordance with her New Year’s weight-loss diet. They have a breakfast table in the corner, by tradition, and they even see Reid when they’re in there. He’s eating with his girlfriend, and flashes jazz hands at the both of them, with a grin. “Happy casting day!”

Spencer wonders, just slightly, if Reid has seen the cast list yet. He may be a student, but he’s drama club president all the same, and maybe he has pre-existing knowledge. But on second thought, Spencer doesn’t think Dr. C would do that. She doesn’t even give him advance knowledge of casting, and he would venture to call himself her favorite student.

So he just waves to Reid, because he and Kelsie are on their way out. “Morning, Reid.” There’s something like a shit-eating grin on Reid’s face, so he can’t resist asking. “Have you seen the list yet?”

“Oh, yeah, dude!” Reid kicks back in his chair. “Didn’t you hear the good news? I’m Evan!”

Spencer’s soul leaves his body. “You— I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m so excited.” Reid smooths out his hair before he dusts off his graphic tee. “Tell me— do you think I’ll look good in striped blue?”

This is not real life. “You can’t be serious.”

“No, tell him, Bri!” Still grinning, Reid looks to his girlfriend, this chubby art student who always has ceramic work on display in the admissions lobby. “Weren’t we just discussing how lovely my angelic voice will sound on Words Fail?”

Bri nods, with her chin in her hands. “Oh, for sure.”

Reid throws his hands up, all smiles. “See?”

Kelsie steps forward, like she’s about to say something. And just as Spencer’s heart is set to beat out of his chest, Reid doubles over and bursts out laughing. “Jesus, Spencer,” he says, smacking the table. “I’m just fucking with you, dude. Could you not tell I was joking?”

“Well, he’s a little on edge,” Kelsie cuts in. “We both are.”

Reid shrugs, putting his hands behind his head like his dining hall chair is actually a lounge chair on the beach. “Well,” he remarks. “I have seen the list, but it’s not up for another…” He glances at the big clock on the wall in the dining room. “Fourteen minutes, so you won’t hear any leaks from me.”

“Wait, really?” he asks. “Have you actually seen it.”

Reid shrugs, making a face like he’s just been instructed to ‘do a silly one’ in a family portrait.

Spencer hates Reid Burke. He’s never really been sure about this fact until today. It’s partly the fact that Reid is still kind of grinning, like this is some big joke— Reid treats everything like a big joke— and partly the fact that he knows, even if he resorted to groveling (which he will not), that he truly won’t get any leaks out of him. Even with fifteen minutes left until he’ll see it himself, it’s tantalizing to know that Reid is sitting right here with full knowledge of the cast, and won’t say a word.

And by the way, what the hell, Dr. C? Since when does she leak the cast list to students?

But standing here being mad at Reid isn’t going to make the list go up faster, so he rolls his eyes, as Reid zips his lips, and says, “Well, I’ll see you later.”

“Bye,” Kelsie adds, like she is less than enthused that she wasted three minutes of her life on this useless conversation. Which is exactly how Spencer feels.

“Idiot,” he mutters, as they walk away, and doesn’t even care if he’s in earshot. “He almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Spence,” Kelsie says, taking his hand to squeeze it. “You know you have nothing to worry about.”

“I know,” he replies, because she’s right, “but what’s up with Dr. C letting Reid see the list early? How does that work? I practically picked the show—”

“It’s bullshit,” she replies, as they bust their breakfast trays. “You should say something to her, later.”

“I think I will,” he says. He’s already planning what he’ll say, as they leave the dining hall and head at a brisk pace in the direction of Beckett. It’s a quick walk, fueled by both of their adrenaline, and when they reach the double doors, Spencer takes one last breath of crisp winter air before walking inside.

Dr. C is in the lobby, crossing from the direction of Beck 1C, where the board is, back toward her office. She’s in a multicolored knit sweater, and she holds her head high, a surefire sign she just did something important. “Good morning, Dr. C,” he says, with a chipper wave. “Is the list up? We wanted to be the first ones to see it.”

“Yes.” Dr. C nods, adjusting her glasses as she stops a moment to talk to them. “It was definitely difficult to cast, and… some people may not be happy, but it’s the best fitting for the programme, as we say.”

Her wording is cryptic, but it always is. Two and a half years in her inner circle, and he knows her well. “Ah, I’m sure you picked the right people,” he says, with a wink.

Dr. C looks between him and Kelsie, then nods. “I’m confident I did,” she says, and it gives him an extra thrill of excitement. A quick glance to Kelsie and she’s smiling like she won the lottery. “Have a nice morning, you two!” Dr. C says, as she starts for her office again.

Kelsie blows her a kiss, and Spencer waves. When they meet eyes again, he takes her hand, and looks to the corner where the bulletin board is.

“Ready?” she asks him.

It’s time.

“Never more ready,” he replies, and together, they walk to the board with its promised sheet of paper.

The anticipation is adrenaline enough. Spencer knows what he’ll find on the list, but is still eager to get to it, to see his name at the top. They round the corner, and there’s the list, fresh white against the board’s maroon paper base. It’s only a few more steps.

When they get there, Kelsie sees it first. She leans forward, then recoils, like she’s been burned. “What?!” she cries, loud enough to be heard inside the actual auditorium.

“Kels? What’s wrong?” He wonders if Claire beat her out for Zoe. He consults the list to investigate, and— and— oh.

Right around then is when the world stops turning.

*

“Quinn Cooper?” Kelsie is staring at the list, her arms crossed over her chest, a permanent scowl etched on her perfect face. “The scarf freshman? Are they kidding?”

Spencer feels frozen. He stares at the list in disbelief, reads it up and down again and again. He feels like he’s been standing here for twenty minutes, but it’s probably only been two or three.

DEAR EVAN HANSEN

Cast & Crew List

Evan Hansen: Quinn Cooper

Connor Murphy: Cole Kolinsky

Zoe Murphy: Claire Deshaies

Heidi Hansen: Allison Halterman

Larry Murphy: Daniel Cho

Jared Kleinman: Reid Burke

Cynthia Murphy: Kelsie Wilkes

Alana Beck: Maggie Atkins

U/S Evan: Spencer Bergen

It’s fake. One of Reid’s practical jokes. They’re all out to play a big junior-year prank on him. Everyone is in on it. Including the scarf freshman.

There’s. No. Way.

“This is—” Kelsie sputters, then shakes her head. “I can’t believe this.”

“I won’t believe this,” he says, speaking for the first time since he saw the list. “There has to be some kind of mistake.”

“Um, I would sure hope so,” she says, popping the p in ‘hope’. “This is— this is a joke.”

Quinn Cooper. The freshman the size of a hobbit. Who wears scarves to every drama club meeting. Who’s barely been at Kiersey for half a year. Who just stole the role of his dreams right out from under him.

Spencer absolutely cannot believe this. “I have to talk to Dr. C,” he says, and it’s more an out-loud realization than anything, but he turns on his heel and marches straight for her office as soon as the words are out. “Like. Right now.”

*

But talking to Dr. C is a useless affair. “I work with what I’m given, Spencer,” she says, sitting behind her desk like some kind of supervillain, more closed-off to him than he’s ever seen her. “The cast may not look exactly how you imagined it, but some of the newer students showed real promise this year.”

“But Dr. C—” He paces in front of her desk. “I suggested the show. I practiced all summer. I thought for sure—”

“Spencer, I chose the show on my own accord,” she says, evenly. “It’s true I take input from students, but that has no bearing on my casting decisions.”

He throws his hands in the air. “But you have to see how this is unfair to me—”

“I think,” she cuts in, in this icy tone that’s usually reserved for people who fuck up majorly, and never for him, not in his entire time at Kiersey, “that once you see how the cast falls together, you’ll respect the casting decisions I made as your director.”

He sputters and rants, but he doesn’t dare disrespect her, no matter how much she’s betrayed him.

And so it goes. He’s lost out on his role, in his spring musical, to some no-name freshman who probably can’t even belt.

And just in case there needed to be a cherry on top, he’s his understudy. Of all things. How humiliating.

Spencer’s life is over.

It’s not until much later that day, when he’s sulking in Kelsie’s dorm room, mourning his lost musical season, that the idea for a solution crosses his mind.

It’s sort of her idea, but sort of his. She, at least, brings it up. “Spence,” she says, nudging his arm. He’s been scrolling mindlessly through Twitter for who knows how long, while she flips through her newly acquired script. “Y’know… you’re his understudy.”

“Well, jeez, Kels, I hadn’t noticed,” he snaps, dropping his phone onto the bed. “Thanks for reminding me.”

“That wasn’t my point,” she replies, scowling. “What I meant was… you’re his understudy.”

He knows she isn’t stupid enough to say the same thing twice over, so he tries to read her meaning. She’s gesturing, like she wants him to get it, and on top of the day he’s had, he doesn’t appreciate being made to feel like an idiot. He’s about to tell her as much when something dawns on him.

Something in the form of very, very useful knowledge. “And that means…” he says. “I perform if he can’t.”

A wise smile crosses Kelsie’s face. “Exactly.”

“So all we have to do is…” He nods. It’s taking shape in his head now. His spring musical season may not be completely lost.

Kelsie’s fingernails dance over his knee. “You’re getting it.”

“Figure out a way to inhibit his ability to perform,” he finishes. He loves her so much. “Kels. You’re right.”

“I’m right?” Her smile goes innocent. “What are you talking about, babe? That was all your idea.”

For the first time since before the saw the list, he smiles, too. He wonders if he looks as conniving as he feels. “I might be able to figure this out,” he says.

“That you might,” she replies, with a nod. “All we have to do is figure out what that looks like.”

To save his musical, Spencer is very much willing to figure that out.