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wannab-urs · 1 year ago

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The Spreadsheet Digest | Vol 29

Howdy folks!

This is the final Spreadsheet Digest of 2023! I started the spreadsheet back in May as a way for me to keep up with everything I read. Basically, I was having trouble finding fics I had read so I could reread them or I was getting two chapters into a new series before realizing I'd already read it. So I did what I do and I made a spreadsheet about it. Then I felt like other people might benefit from a searchable list of fics. Then, and I don't know why, I thought people might want to know what I thought about the stuff I was reading. And here we are - 29 volumes and 34 weeks later.

Sorry for long intro! This week I have 16 fics for you (Frankie, Joel, Max Phillips, Javi P, Ezra, Dieter, Dave York, and Jack/Whiskey). Summaries and Tags provided by the author where applicable - sometimes I filled in some stuff.

You can find my masterlist here and all my fic recs here

Recs under the Pedro!

My Way - Frankie one shot by @goodwithcheese

Summary: Frankie's working on his truck... you interrupt him Tags: PIV Sex, Frankie uses his words, aka "you know he talks you through it," frankie is bossy Thoughts: if he uhhh "uses his words" this much in the series this is technically set in, I do believe I'll be reading that. This was HOT. Like absurdly hot. Lemme be you car girl, Frankie

Cocoon - Joel series by @secretelephanttattoo

Summary: A short ode to Joel's coat. / a bath with Joel Tags: Angst and intimacy. 1 reference to blood and allusion to canon typical violence (nothing is described) Thoughts: God i love little intimate moments like this... wrapping yourself up in Joel's coat, washing the bad day out of his curls... I am SICK! Someone let me hold this man, please.

I'll Leave a Light On For You - Max Phillips one shot by @oonajaeadira

Summary: Max has reservations when it comes to love, and for very good reasons. Tags: Angst. Character death. Allusions to the atrocities of war and its lasting effects. Max is a vampire. Traumatic soul memory. Me assuming I know anything about French culture of the 1930s. Thoughts: This is beautiful. Just absolutely stunning. I have a fascination with the concept of past lives, and I adore the way it's written about it here. There are some really interesting takes on it here with Max being a vampire. Also, side note, this fic made me cry. It's that soft angst that you don't expect to make you sob, but holy shit. When it hit (you'll know it when you read it) it hit. I was devastated. And then because it's adira and "we do soft here" it ends sweet.

Once in a Blue Moon - Dieter one shot by @whatsnewalycat

Summary: You're the only person working when a Christmas blizzard rolls into town and snows you in with a notoriously difficult guest, Dieter Bravo. Tags: one shot, slight dub con elements (power imbalance, isolation, alcohol) although both parties are enthusiastically consenting, hotel guest x hotel staff, blizzard, Minnesota because that’s my best friend, dieter generally being an ‘if you give a mouse a cookie’ ass bitch, kinda enemies to lovers???, Christmas, loneliness, palm reading, food and eating, cannabis, conspiracy theory mention, fluuuuuufffff, smut, dirty talk, a dash of conflict, painting stuff, power outage, poverty mention Thoughts: Aly has this way of writing Dieter that is like she knows him in real life. He feels so personal and real to me in her stories. I think I say this every time I talk about her fics, but my Dieter would not exist without hers. Anyway -- this fic is wonderful. Dieter has all that silly druggie boy charm he always has, there's a really interesting inclusion of him having PTSD from working on the movie from The Bubble and a really interesting way that he's dealing with it. It's got perfect vibes for us christmas haters too. I loved this so much.

Jingle Balls / Dashing through the ho - Frankie series by @idolatrybarbie

Summary: Santa Frankie porn... that's it. That's the fic Tags: santa kink???, cockwarming, cum, like so much cum, unprotected vaginal sex, unethical use of a mall Santa Village, semi-public sex, dirty talk and pet names, mentions of free use. / santa kink again, free use, spreader bar, creampie, come eating, facefucking, throatpie, anal sex, degradation, cum, pet names (honey, little girl, sweet girl, baby), praise, CUM AGAIN GUYS LIKE IDK WHAT HAPPENED HERE. Thoughts: This is mostly my fault and I refuse to apologize for it

Galletita - Javi P one shot by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Summary: Your sister and brother-in-law have enlisted your help with their small business while they await the birth of their first baby. You help with the cafe and find yourself face to face with a new customer whose appetite might have met its match in you. Tags: big boi Javi P is hungry and a little cranky, you like to bake and Javi likes to eat, belly kink, feeding kink, probably bad Spanish, we’re playing fast and loose with timelines, canon, and everything in general, so just forget about timey wimey boo boo wah wah and enjoy the story lmao Thoughts: I do, in fact, need a big boy

Devour - Ezra one shot by @frannyzooey

Summary: Falling for Ezra on the Green Tags: harvesting violence, mentions of gore and blood, mentions of cannibalism, love as consumption and all the visuals that come with it, so much fucking and filth and ass play and cum eating it isn’t funny Thoughts: It was a gift for me, so I really probably should not be so amazed by how much I love this fic. But oh my god, dude. Love as consumption, freak nasty smut, Ezra being Ezra, bi!Ez, the Din/Ez hints (I'd like to know more about that), it's all perfect. I will never stop being obsessed with this

Tear You Apart - Dieter one shot by @psychedelic-ink

Summary: it's the 70s and your friend invites you to an underground club where one of your favorite musicians is playing: dieter bravo. Tags: innocence kink, mild corruption kink, backstage sex, piv, dirty talk, weed, oral + handjob (male receiving)obsessed with rockstar Dieter. Thoughts: I'm surprised I haven't seen more rockstar Dieter. This was hot, filthy, and just... in the words of the man himself perfect.

One Man Show - Dieter one shot by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

Summary: Dieter gets himself off! Tags: male masturbation, use of sex toys, anal fingering, butt plug, sex tape??? i guess Thoughts: I'm loving this solo session concept so much. Dieter filming himself!!! for no reason!!! is so hot. Everything about this is so fucking hot. I want him to send me that video...

I am a nightmare, you are a miracle - Joel series by @party-hearses

Summary: After your two year relationship with Tommy Miller ends, Joel takes you in — and it’s home like you’ve never quite known before. Tags: slow burn, explicit (eventual) smut, language, infidelity, alcohol, age difference, soft!joel, no cordyceps outbreak, sarah doesn’t exist (sorry), tommy stans don’t come for me. Thoughts: I have been very intentionally not reading WIPs and waiting for them to be finished, but I fucked up. I was scrolling the dash and frannyzooey recc'd this and it caught my eye and I just didn't even check if it was finished. But I regret nothing. Ch 4 is coming soon, I'm manifesting it. I fucking love Joel in this and I'm super intrigued by reader's uhhhh mommy issues and the way that those manifest.

MASTERLIST BINGE INCOMING | @brandyllyn

To sell your love for peace - Javi P series by @brandyllyn

Summary: You are Javier’s newest informant. You’re not his usual type but he’s willing to make an exception. More than one. Tags: smut, sex work, canon typical violence, javi being a moron Thoughts: I adore a lovers to idiots to lovers story... and man is Javi an idiot. The characterization of Javi here is perfect. Protective!Javi is very canon and I love seeing it in fic. Also, I don't normally go for miscommunication tropes (they tend to annoy me) but this was perfect. I loved every second of this story.

The Serpent Under It - Dave York one shot by brandyllyn

Summary: Dave is very good at his job Tags: Canon typical violence. kinda dark yo, soulmate AU Thoughts: I don't typically read soulmate AUs, but I actually read several of brandyllyn's this week. They're very different from the normal trope. This one broke my heart and it's less than 800 words.

To perish twice - Javi P series by brandyllyn

Summary: You can feel when your soulmate comes. Tags: smut, soulmate AU, Javi being an idiot, male masturbation, piv sex Thoughts: This is what I mean... you can feel when your soulmate has a fuckin orgasm??? What a concept. This was really hot, kind of funny, and had just the right amount of angst.

Cross My Heart - Ezra one shot by brandyllyn

Summary: While waiting at a clinic for the hope of a prosthetic arm, Ezra meets a woman who will change his life Tags: Talk of self harm / suicide but no one does it, discussion of medical procedures and prostheses, some use of ability based slurs by Ezra and others, canon typical violence Thoughts: We love a man who will threaten to murder someone's entire family for you... no seriously. I absolutely love Ezra's characterization here and I love the FMC's story AHHH. It's just a very sweet story... with a little Ezra flair.

Into the Shade - Ezra series by brandyllyn

Summary: Why would anyone fake having a soulmate? Tags: Ezra being Ezra, con man!ezra, soulmate AU, smut, Ezra x OFC smut, Ezra x reader is in there though. Thoughts: Yet again, the typical soulmate concept has been turned on its head here, and I love it. I also adore the flores animae - the particular soulmate mechanic in this fic. It's really interesting!

Dreams are Sweet Until They're Not - Jack Daniels series by brandyllyn

Summary: A crimson rose could only mean one thing. Tags: soulmates au, Jack being a slut, angst, smut, happy ending Thoughts: Okay last soulmates AU on the list, sorry. I went a little nuts. They're just so good. The ending of this one was so sweet, dude.

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My fics this week:

Something Sweet - Javi p x reader - You’re new to the team in Colombia and all alone on your birthday. Your partner, Javier Peña, decides to do something sweet for you. (fluff, smut)

Under Your Skin - jack daniels x javi p x reader - You’ve worked on Chucho’s ranch since you were 15 years old, grew up with Javi, loved Javi… He comes back after nearly 20 years to find you hooking up with a certain former secret agent. He’s jealous, for sure, but of who? (smut)

in the a.m. - javi p x reader - Between sleeping with informants and getting in bed with Los Pepes in the fight to bring down Escobar, Javier Peña also finds time to be with you. Wrestling with crippling self hatred, Javi tries and fails to keep his blood stained hands off of you. Based on some of my favorite Arctic Monkeys songs (smut, angst)

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Happy Reading!

#fic recs #the spreadsheet digest #fanfiction recommendations #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro fics #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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stories-and-chaos · 10 months ago

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Tarnished pt 24

[Helluva Boss AU where Blitzø’s childhood theft from Stolas’ palace is discovered and major consequences ensue for everyone involved.]

[Part 24/?? Word count: 2128]

[Cw: drug use, addiction, overdose, gaslighting]

—————

Fizzarolli was in process of moving his things to Lust. Ozzie was letting him stay in his palace until he got his own place. But the Sin made it clear he was welcome to be a long term resident. Fizz hadn’t decided yet, but the advantages were hard to ignore.

Not to mention, being in Asmodeus’ presence was…amazing. He told himself it was because the sex was so fucking good. While it was true the size of the boat didn’t matter as much as the motion of the ocean, having access to a luxury mega-yacht was just fucking fun. But regular bang sessions didn’t mean compatibility living together. Best to see how things went for a few weeks first.

Before that, he wanted to talk to Barb again. He’d been so busy, running around for Mammon. It had been over a week since that disastrous talk. Fizz belatedly realized she’d probably been high at the time. Likely she’d misunderstood what he’d tried to say and he needed to set things straight before it was too late.

But when he went to her studio apartment, she wasn’t there. Instead a quartet of imps that barely came up to his knees were. The studio wasn’t large by any means but for demons this small, it was probably palatial. They’d set it up as a sort of dormitory within the week since he’d been here last. And none of them had any clue about the previous tenant.

Now he was worried. Unfortunately, he didn’t know any of her current haunts. He had no clue of who she was getting her drug supply from either. Fizz had steered clear of the criminal side of Greed as much as possible; thinking back, Barb had encouraged that. Maybe to protect him, maybe to keep him away from her vices.

If she’d shown up to work at Mammon’s office building… even though it was his day off, he went over. But the office that Barb used was a repeat of her apartment. An unfamiliar imp was at the desk, sorting through the stacks of fan mail. “Oh, Mr. Fizzarolli! We weren’t expecting you in today.”

“Who the fuck are you? Where’s Barb?”

The male imp didn’t even flinch at Fizz’s hostility. “I’m Alphonse, you’re new assistant. Call me Alph. As for your former assistant, I’ll let Lord Mammon explain.” He dialed a number to inform the Sin and directed Fizz to the boss’s office.

“Fizzy my boy! Didn’t think you were coming today. Ya lookin’ pretty worked up, what’s got your balls in a twist?” Mammon looked as jovial as ever, with a scheming glint in his eyes.

“Where’s Barb? What the hell is going on?” Fizz demanded, his tone still hostile due to fear and frustration. “Did you do something to her?” he remembered Mammon’s disapproval with friend at his contest win.

“Whoa ho ho! Relax Fizzy, I ain’t done nothing!” He held up all his hands in an attempt to placate the imp. “Here, lemme show ya.” Mammon spun his computer monitor around and pulled up a clip of security footage. It was the main doors of the building and Barb was standing in front. Even through the grainy footage, he could see the angry tension in her body.

Then he watched as she picked up rocks and flung them with scary accuracy at the doors. He knew rocks wouldn’t break them, but her screamed curses and the sharp cracks of stone hitting reinforced glass made him jerk in fear. His tail wound around his legs as one rock bounced back and hit her face.

Despite his fear and the fact that he was watching footage from days ago, Fizz reached out to his friend with a cry. She was stunned for a moment, then “Fine. FINE, YOU HEAR ME! YOU CAN GO FUCK YOURSELVES! HAVE FUN BEING A PAMPERED WHORE FIZZ! YOU’RE JUST LIKE THAT TRAITOR BLITZO!” His ichor slowed to a crawl in his veins. Was that what she thought of him? The clip continued, showing her giving the building the middle finger as she walked out of sight.

“One of your new security guards talked to her about missing so many days and she went nuclear. She hasn’t been here since, so I sent some of my guys lookin for her. Mailed her a severance package, the check got cashed so she musta gotten it.” He looked and sounded sympathetic; that scheming glint was still in his eyes though. Barb would have picked up on it, but Fizz was too distraught to notice.

Instead, he trusted in Mammon’s concerned tone. “Sorry Fizzy, but at least you didn’t get mixed up in her shit. Or get hurt when she fucked off.” He squished Fizz’s cheeks between two hands and switched to a sing-song tone. “Can’t have my brand baby’s face getting all fucked up again, right?” He let go of the imp clown abruptly, leaving Fizz off balance. “You know what’ll get your mind off all this? Getting some clown practice with me! Then we can knock out some of those photoshoots we need, whaddya say?”

Fizz shook his head to clear it. “Uh…yeah, sounds good Mammon, sir.” The photoshoot would be exhausting but the clown practice would be a nice change of pace before that. Mammon strived for perfection in his act and from his employees. Fizz was always up for practicing with his idol.

He worked hard enough that thoughts of his former(?) friend hovered just out of reach. He didn’t think about Barb’s situation until he was back in Lust, in Ozzie’s palace. “So how’d things go Froggie?” Oz asked as he prepared dinner for the two of them.

The hurt and anger came rushing back. “Oh, you know, terrible. Guess y’all were right about Barb. She’s ghosted now though, no point worrying about her!” He forced levity into his voice, trying to keep the worst at bay.

“Wait, what? What happened?” Ozzie set down the knife he’d been using to chop vegetables and came over to Fizz.

Fizz shrugged and wouldn't look Asmodeus in the eye. “Guess she hates me now. They had security footage from a few days back. She tried to attack Mammon’s building with rocks and started yelling about me being a whore traitor like Blitzo.” He couldn’t stop the tears welling up at the loss of the last person from his childhood. “No one’s seen her in days. Her apartment already has new tenants.”

Ozzie shrunk himself down to be closer to Fizz’s eye level. He had millennia of experience dealing with the other Deadly Sins. This all sounded sketchy and precisely in Mammon’s wheelhouse. “You sure that’s how everything went down Fizz? It’s just Mam’s word-“

“I saw the tape Ozzie! I heard what she said. She told me to fuck off.”

“Look, I can send some of my people out to find her. Make sure she’s safe at least.”

“You said it yourself, Asmodeus.” Fizz’s voice cracked as he continued. “She’s gotta make her own choices and she made hers pretty fucking clear. She doesn’t want me around and she doesn’t want my help.”

“Mmmm,” Ozzie hummed noncommittally. “If you insist, Fizzarolli.” He went back to the cutting board as Fizz started ranting about Barb and this Blitzo guy. Privately, the Sin was considering his options regarding Barb. He was somewhat limited in what he could do, since Greed wasn’t his Ring. But he could have his employees locate her at the very least. Just without Fizz’s knowledge.

Because Fizz’s words said he didn’t want anything to do with Barb or Blitzo. But his tone and body language told a different story. Ozzie knew all of Fizzarolli’s history by now; he could see the imp woman’s disappearance was hitting Fizz hard.

For tonight though, he could provide food and activities that would distract his partner. Being the embodiment of Lust was useful for distraction.

The next day he did ask his employees that were used to Greed to look for Fizz’s friend. It took a few months but they did find her. The succubi that located the imp reported she wasn’t doing well, but didn’t seem in immediate danger. Ozzie wasn’t going back on his policy of personal choice; he kept tabs on Barb for years, just in case.

Almost a decade later, he was glad he did. Ozzie’s employee that was checking on Barb had struck up a casual friendship with her. But the succubus rushed back one day in a panic. The imp had OD’d. While the ER team had pumped her stomach and stabilized her, she was in bad shape. Ozzie arranged for her immediate care and to get her checked into rehab through his employee. He hoped this would get Fizz’s old friend on the path to recovery, but again, it was up to her to follow through.

Asmodeus didn’t tell Fizz what happened. His partner’s animosity toward Barb hadn’t abated yet. It was just as strong as his disdain towards Barb’s long lost twin Blitzo. Ozzie had seen that firsthand years ago.

It had been a semi-formal meeting of Hell’s royalty. Lucifer Morningstar, the Deadly Sins, and the major players of Ars Goetia as well as other high ranking families were in attendance. Many guests brought along plus ones, with Ozzie bringing Fizz. A large number of Hell's upper echelons wanted to meet the imp, get autographs or selfies.

There were also many lower ranked demons following in their master’s wakes. Especially the Goetia; almost all of them had an imp or two, carrying items and fetching refreshments. One of the strongest Goetia, Prince Stolas, had his bound attendant at his side for the majority of the evening.

Ozzie had noticed the scarred imp by the owl demon lock his eyes onto Fizzarolli. Fizz; entertaining a small group with some sleight of hand, didn’t notice the attention. The other imp’s expression started shocked, then changed to hurt, then banked fury all in a few seconds. But he didn’t approach the clown or leave Stolas’s side. Most likely he couldn’t, considering the sigil mark Asmodeus could see on his neck.

Fizz had eventually felt hostile eyes on him. He spotted the imp glaring at him next to the Goetia. He looked confused, not sure why this stranger was so angry. Ozzie could almost see realization click into place, as if Fizz was matching his memory to the man staring him down. “Blitzo?” he said under his breath.

Then, as Blitzo had continued to glare across the crowded room, Fizz’s expression hardened into similar anger. His eyes flicked over his childhood friend and he sneered.

Even when Ozzie was introducing his business partner to others, that anger didn’t entirely fade. He put on a good show. He always did. But Asmodeus could tell the difference in his companion.

Eventually they crossed paths with Stolas. “Stolas!” Ozzie said cheerfully. “Haven’t seen you in awhile, how you been? Have you met my business partner Fizzarolli yet?”

“Always a pleasure to see you, my Lord Asmodeus. And I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Fizzarolli. I am Prince Stolas of Ars Goetia.” He tilted his head slightly towards Fizz, in a slight show of respect. He did not introduce the imp next to him, but that wasn’t unusual with an attendant.

Ozzie made a show of looking around. “All by your lonesome tonight birdie babe?”

Stolas gave a hooting laugh. “Oh, you know Stella; there’s too much business and not enough gossip at functions like these. Besides, Blitzø is plenty of company for me.”

Meanwhile, the two imps continued to glare silently. Fizz caught sight of Blitzo’s forehead up close and if anything he seemed angrier. Ozzie could see them both seething, not able to do anything with all the royals around. He and Stolas chatted a bit longer before Ozzie made the excuse of “Fizzarolli and I have a lot of his fans to meet still, we’ll catch up later Stolas.”

Stolas for his part, nodded and replied “It seems my presence is requested by my father. Another time Asmodeus. Come along Blitzø.” There was a faint glow at the imp’s neck as the pair made their way through the crowd. Throughout the night, the two imps continued to send furious looks at each other, beneath the noses of demonic royalty.

When Ozzie asked Fizz about the other imp later, a naked Fizzarolli launched into a familiar tirade as he paced around their rumpled bed. Ozzie let him vent everything out, the image of patience. He artfully draped a silken sheet over himself. When Fizz had finally ran out of words, the Sin’s pinup style pose had the desired effect. But afterwards, Asmodeus resolved to have that follow up with Stolas.

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#helluva fanfiction #helluva blitzo #helluva boss #helluva au #helluva fizzarolli #fizzarolli #asmodeus x fizzarolli #helluva asmodeus #helluva stolas #helluva stolitz #stolitz #blitzo x stolas #blitzø #fizzmodeus #barbie wire #cw drugs #cw overdose #helluva mammon

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almostempty · 6 months ago

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You might be a fast runner or a sharpshooter, but young girls aren’t known to fare well on the battlefield.

(But what if I had a 🗡️)

Obviously, you’re gorgeous

I’m blushing.

You rarely stop to mingle with Colleen

But but I need to know Colleen’s nail tech

His first interaction with you aside from your initial greeting, begins with a headache

lololol this is about me

Do you want Advil? I have some in my purse

YOU KNOW I always keep that thang on me or at least have a couple loosies

Hold out your hand unless you want me to feed them to you,” you say jokingly

!! Feed him !! Feed him !! Put your fingers in his mouth

“You’re a fuckin’ angel, you know that?”

Didn’t know I needed him to say that to me but now I’ll never rest

Depends on the underwear, he thinks

Heheheheh

Javi, stupidly, has forgotten that you're not privy to any of this, so you endure 25 minutes of conversation time before asking, "Who's Connie?"

I cackled at this hahahahah

"Okay, fine. I was not listening…”

He’s such a shitass I’m giggling weeeeee

Really, Javi's a mopey zoo lion if anything

HAHAHAH stop!!

there is a mutual knowledge and acceptance that Steve is cock-blocking Javi. It's for everyone's benefit.

Honestly cockblock!steve is such a real one, he’s always just curmudgeonly and self absorbed enough ya know? Hahaha

"We can still go out, right, Javi?" you ask

Me preparing to cry rn if he says no 🥺

It takes only one word to seal his fate, but he gives you five.

I love that line, it’s got me silly smilin’

so he can't put his arm around the back of your seat and you can't lean on him when you start to feel tipsy

☹️☹️ how does he know my fav moves, come over here and lemme leaaaaan on you bb

he keeps his hands – respectfully, protectively, friendly – on you. Just an arm around your shoulder, or your hand in his at most scandalous.

YEAH YEAH!! Yeah!!

You leave him with a kiss on the cheek, and he hopes that it means less to you than it does to him.

They are stronger than me 🫡 respect

Watching you get whisked away by the bartender, Javi sighs a little too loudly, prompting Murphy to inquire, “you jealous

AHHHH I LOVE WHEN THEY GET JEALOUS

I’m a simple lady ok

“No. I’m gonna go… mingle,” he says

NOOOOOO I HATE WHEN I GET JEALOUS

“Okay, I’ll be here when you’re ready to talk about it.”

“Fuck off. We agreed that I’m not sleeping with her – I did not take a vow of celibacy.”

I can picture these two and their attitudes perfectly heheheheh

“Tell him I left to fuck his wife.”

Hahahahah

You keep your eyes pointed at your feet and he keeps his hands by his sides. It feels like you’re strangers who happen to be walking at the same pace, to the same destination. There’s nothing more to say

Owww can you remove the dagger from my soft heart

“Oh, so we’re not good enough for you? I’m offended,” Javi says, sarcastically, but there’s a grain of truth deep down

—me when I flirt and expect someone to read between the lines then complain about miscommunication

Each outfit has a matching set of lingerie, so you have to see that too in order to accurately judge

OMG I LOVE HER

He has the tendency to get attached even in the most casual of situations, so he’d never dare make an occasion out of sex

We know he falls in love with everyone 💗

Javi is stupid enough to think that this means you'll skip the date

“Yeah. How do you want me?” he asks

HO BOY LET ME GET MY LIST - unfurls comically long scroll 📜

He does the right thing the first time – he calls up Gabriela and fucks her like he hates her, tips her real well afterwards

Brb I gotta touch grass real quick

"I need to forget," you tell him, and he knows exactly what that means

💗💗💗💗💗

if you consider sex a party

Heheh why not

"I'm gonna cum."

"I know. That's the goal.”

Stop!! (Don’t) the attitude is making my laugh like a looney, too good!!

He doesn't wait for an answer before lifting you over his shoulder

Pls lug me to your cave Javi 🙌🙌

The second time you say 'fuck' is when Javi tells you he'll go grab a condom from his wallet – which is in his jeans, which are somewhere near the front door – and you say 'fuck it'.

!! Chanting and shaking the bars of my enclosure

"Make me forget."

Yes yes yes

"I want you to hurt me."

I don't want to hurt you

AHHHH

Good" is the only word he says, though it's clearly not 'good' because Steve looks more pissed off than he's ever seen him

HEHEHEHEHEHH

Stay," you say, tugging him by the hand, so he falls back into bed

Yes yes yes yes

For him, it's deeper than that. You're deeper inside him than he ever was inside you.

Owwwww hurts so good

He wakes up beside you, feeling hungover despite not having any alcohol the night before. It's the vague sense of guilt and confusion, the way he feels more awake than the night before but less awake than he should after a full night's rest.

I can feel this SO viscerally

His eyes linger on you for too long while he fantasizes, long enough for you to notice – for you to begin to see him for who he is.

CAN you come over and hold my hand while I read this and scream with meee over all of it

You sleep together again, but you don't have sex

OOH not the infinitely more intimate version of sleeping together fr

I'd do anything for you

Same

You call periodically at first, but the calls get more sporadic until they disappear entirely

OWWWWWW

There are two open barstools, one on each side of a woman he can only see from the back. He chooses the one to her right. She looks like you, he thinks, just a slightly different haircut.

EEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!

Yeah, I will be, once my boyfriend gets our bags

NOOOOO GIRL WHYYY IM ON MY KNEES

uhhhhh, that was fantastic and I had totally casual and normal responses while reading it. hurt me again pls bb

my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder

pairing: javi p x reader

cws/tags: angst, p in v, oral, idk? drinking? canon death mention? javi pov

summary: reader, a dea agent, arrives in medellin (season 2 time) and quickly forms a bond w javi. are they just friends or is it something more?

a/n: there is a part 2 which will give the full picture (hopefully)

wc: 8.6k

taglist:

@gothcsz @onlyasimp4-2dbitches

There was Helena, and then, Gabriela, before that, Vanessa, and certainly some others here and there, but with all of them, Javi had his expectations set upfront. Or at least, he thought he did, he tried to, but he'd be lying if he said Helena only came to mind when he was lonely in the middle of the night, naked and unable to sleep.

Elisa was a mistake, an unfair mistake that was dropped off at his doorstep before he could tell himself that this doesn't mean anything. There must've been some self-preservation instincts in him that held him back from begging her for more, from moping around after she left. He risked a lot for her, but he would've risked more if she'd let him.

Prostitutes and wanted communists are one thing, but you are something else. Javi can't quite put his finger on what that something else is yet, and it’s too late once he figures it out.

In the beginning, Javi was skeptical of you, mostly because you came to Medellin with Messina and crew, and he falsely assumed that being her subordinate meant you would take her side if there were ever to be conflict between her and Javi – and there was from their very first conversation.

More than skeptical, he was intrigued. Being sent to Colombia to participate in the fight against Escobar was usually reserved for higher-ups with a much longer tenure, or fresh meat for the front-lines. As a newcomer, that meant that you were either a highly-skilled agent in the field of investigation or you volunteered yourself – likely unknowingly – to be slaughtered. You might be a fast runner or a sharpshooter, but young girls aren’t known to fare well on the battlefield.

Once he’s determined that you’re not a threat, you’re a coworker. You keep to yourself. You don’t seem shy, just focused, and for that Javi is grateful. Considering the fact that he’s forced to work with the people he deems to be ‘RIP’ and a fuckton of bureaucracy, you make his life easier.

Obviously, you’re gorgeous. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder or whatever but he sees the way others look at you. He notices because he is also looking. You walk with confidence, but not arrogance. You traverse the halls with purpose, but not urgency. You rarely stop to mingle with Colleen and only exchange cordial glances with men who would melt if you gave them any more attention than that.

His first interaction with you aside from your initial greeting, begins with a headache. It’s the phone ringing, then the keys clicking on the typewriter, even the tick of the clock gets to him. He groans - somewhat dramatically - and puts his head in his hands.

“Agent Peña,” you pipe up from beside him. “Are you okay?”

“Just a headache. I’ll recover.”

“Do you want Advil? I have some in my purse.”

“Yes, please.”

You dig through a sizable bag until you find a small bottle. You carefully shake two caplets out and pour the excess back inside their container, closing the cap tightly before putting it back in your purse.

“Hold out your hand unless you want me to feed them to you,” you say jokingly.

He opens his palm and takes the offering, greedily swallowing the pills dry.

“You should really take those with water,” you say.

“Does coffee work?” He presents the near-empty mug on his desk to you, swirling the contents.

“Here,” you say, giving up your water bottle.

“You’re a fuckin’ angel, you know that?” he says, before taking a gulp of your water, tasting the chapstick on the rim. Cherry. It leaves a pink stain that matches the color of your nails.

When he returns the bottle to you, you seem oddly flustered. He meant angel as in miracle worker not as in divinely gorgeous woman, though both could be used to describe you. You should know that, he thinks.

“Not really,” you say with a breathy laugh. “I’m just prepared for any surprise Aunt Flo could bring me.”

“Huh?” Javi’s a man without sisters, daughters, or a wife, he’s never heard the expression.

“My period.”

Honestly, he’s impressed at how plainly you say it, shameless as you should be.

“Ah.”

“She makes me more of a demon than anything, but it means I’ve got a whole pharmacy in here.”

“Got anything fun?”

“Not unless you find enjoyment in a handful of tampons and a spare pair of underwear.”

Depends on the underwear, he thinks. They’re probably modest, but you’d look good in fuckin’ granny panties. By the end of the day, he’s imagined you in just about everything.

At the time, Javi's not interested in flirting with you. It's not a conscious effort not to get involved, he's just so caught up in everything else that there's little time to think about romancing you.

Even the night he and Steve first invite you for drinks, it's sheerly for the sake of camaraderie. In fact, it was Steve's idea, not his. Murphy thought you looked lonely – in retrospect, Javi thinks it might've been projection. Javi agreed to invite you out of pure interest in what you'd be like outside of the office.

Nice. That's the best way he could describe it. Likable.

You all get drunk. Javi watches your professional facade slip as you’re swaying in your seat to the rhythm of the current hits on the radio. Your skin, dewy with summer sweat, makes you glow like an angel in the dim light of the bar.

It takes Steve a drink and a half to bring up his marriage problems. Javi, stupidly, has forgotten that you're not privy to any of this, so you endure 25 minutes of conversation time before asking, "Who's Connie?"

"Steve's wife," Javi says.

"Where is she?"

"Miami."

"I've never heard you talk about her before."

"Because he's in hot water," Javi, again, is the one to answer.

"I can answer for myself, thank you." Steve insists.

And so Javi lets Steve talk - he's probably heard it all before - and he lets himself have a break. Just a little break, no one will notice if he lets his mind wander for a second. Really, he's mostly listening, he thinks.

"Javi." Murphy's voice from across the table is oddly stern.

"What?" Javi mirrors his tone.

"What do you think I should do?"

"About what?"

"Connie."

"I don't know."

"Were you even listening?"

"Yeah, of course."

It takes one long stare to get him to break. "Okay, fine. I was not listening. Tell me one more time."

You excuse yourself from the table to use the restroom, and it feels like you've fed him to the wolves – rightfully so.

"You like her." It's not a question. It's a statement, whispered as if Murphy cares about the confidentiality of Javi's love life or lack thereof.

"It's not like that." But Javi can't meet his eyes.

"I know sleeping around usually works for you, but I don't want you to fuck this up. Not right now when we're so close."

What he means is: do not fuck her. It should be simple – and to Steve's credit, he's right. But the thing is that Javi doesn't just want to fuck you. It's not like that.

"What do you think I am? An animal?" Javi asks.

Yes, he absolutely does. To him, Javi is a tiger, waiting to pounce on whatever prey he can get his hands on. Really, Javi's a mopey zoo lion if anything.

When he notices you making your way across the room, he changes the subject. "Anyway, I think you should call Connie, and tell her how you feel. Just be honest."

"That's what I said," you beam with pride, as if you've gotten the answer right.

Looking into Murphy’s bloodshot eyes, he adds, "But you've gotta sober up first."

"I agree," you say, and Javi only notices now how you slur your words.

He convinces you both to go home with the promise of a second hangout next week. It's an empty promise – he just needs to get you home safe. He assumes you won't remember in the morning. But come next Friday, you approach him, and ask if you're going to the same bar you went to the weekend prior.

It was an empty promise, but one he decides to keep.

It becomes a weekly thing. The three of you. You all get along perfectly well, but if this were any other circumstance, if you were any other beautiful woman, Javi would've pulled Steve to the side and told him to pound sand. But there is a mutual knowledge and acceptance that Steve is cock-blocking Javi. It's for everyone's benefit.

Your group hangouts typically begin and end at the same bar down the street.

The friend group arrangement works until it doesn't. Until Murphy has plans.

"How the fuck do you have plans? Your wife is in another country," Javi asks bitterly.

"Unlike you, my life isn't centered around women I want to sleep with," Steve says with less bite because he knows he's won the conversation.

Fuck Murphy. Javi was tired of hearing him bitch about Connie anyway. But you. He could never get tired of you.

"We can still go out, right, Javi?" you ask, and he's fairly sure it's the first time you've ever called him by his first name.

He doesn't have time to find an excuse to say no when he's pushing away every knee-jerk flirtation in his mind.

"Yeah," he says, "of course we can."

It takes only one word to seal his fate, but he gives you five.

That evening he sits across from you rather than next to you, so he can't put his arm around the back of your seat and you can't lean on him when you start to feel tipsy. Instead, he has to try to pay attention while you're looking him in the eyes, smiling at him and no one else.

When you decide to call it a night, and you stumble on your way out the door, Javi grabs hold of your arm, steadying you.

"I'm gonna walk you home," he says. Not an offer, a statement of fact.

"I got it," you say, patting him on the chest in thanks.

"No, you don't." He sighs as he leads you against your will, trying not to let your stupid grin get to him.

As you walk past the lit-up buildings filled with young singles dancing with their bodies pressed up against each other covered in sweat and spilled drinks – the nightlife of Medellin, a song escapes one nightclub that you recognize, and you begin to sing along. Your tune isn't bad, but your lyrics are far from correct.

Javi laughs heartily, unable to hold it in.

"What? You don't like it?"

"No, I love it – it's original. I love the way you've completely changed the lyrics."

"You're so mean, Javier!" You playfully shove him – or attempt to, but you end up falling into his arms.

He takes your hands in his, holding you upright.

“It’s ‘hold me closer, tiny dancer’, not ‘hold me closer, Tony Danza’,” he says.

“Okay, fine,” you say, hands still clasped in his, swaying a bit, coaxing him into dancing with you slowly.

Halfway through the song, he’s leading you, step-by-step, twirling you like a ballerina because he loves the way you laugh when he does it.

Though you’re the one that needs help standing, you keep him on his toes too. The words are no longer ‘Tony Danza’, nor ‘tiny dancer’ - it becomes ‘hold me closer, Javi Peña’.

For the rest of the walk, he keeps his hands – respectfully, protectively, friendly – on you. Just an arm around your shoulder, or your hand in his at most scandalous.

It takes you a moment to unlock your door as you fiddle with the keys – their clinking metal being the only sound echoing through the halls of the apartment building. Anticipatory silence. He won't come into your apartment, he knows that. You're too drunk to consent to anything. You leave him with a kiss on the cheek, and he hopes that it means less to you than it does to him.

“It’s kinda like Cheers when you think of it,” you note off-handedly.

“In what way?” Javi asks like he’s challenging you.

“Well, we’re always at the same bar.”

“Oh yeah? ‘Where everybody knows your name’? The bartender still calls you ‘señorita’.”

“He calls me ‘gringo’,” Steve mumbles into his glass.

As it turns out, the bartender does know your name, and just as Sam Malone would, he makes out with you in a room marked ‘employee’s only’.

Watching you get whisked away by the bartender, Javi sighs a little too loudly, prompting Murphy to inquire, “you jealous?”

“No. I’m gonna go… mingle,” he says, turning towards the area that has become a dancefloor over the course of the night.

“Okay, I’ll be here when you’re ready to talk about it.”

“Fuck off. We agreed that I’m not sleeping with her – I did not take a vow of celibacy.”

Murphy doesn’t stay to watch Javi find an eligible woman to suck him off in the women’s room. Instead, he closes his tab and asks the bartender – the one not making his way from second to third base with you - to relay a message to Javi when he inevitably comes looking.

“What do you want me to tell him?” The man – unamused, but bored enough to entertain him - asks.

“Tell him I left to fuck his wife.”

The bartender seems to think it’s funny enough, especially when he already harbors certain negative feelings towards Javi for reasons that may or may not be justifiable, depending on who you ask.

Javi learns of this later when he closes out his own tab, but before he does so, he has a mission to see through.

Barely concealed by a stall door that could use a new coat of paint and some WD-40 on the hinges, Javi is about to tell this woman - whose name he’s already forgotten - not to leave any marks above his collar, but then, he remembers you, and says nothing, only groans when her teeth scrape the skin on his neck.

He brushes this need to ‘conquer’ off as a typical rivalry between friends. When your friend exits the room to go hook up with someone, it’s your duty as a man to find a mate of equal social stature to theirs, and engage in at least some heavy petting by the end of the night. Or at least, that’s how it worked back in college – which, come to think of it, was about a lifetime ago for Javi. Looking back, he realizes that those nights taught him the infinitely valuable skill of bullshitting his way in and out of situations.

Though, he tells you the absolute truth of who, what, where, and how it all went down for him that night on your walk home. He only omits the why.

“Are we going back to the same place next week?”

“I thought we already established that we go there every week, just like they do in Cheers,” he says.

“Can we go somewhere else next time?”

“Why? It seemed like you were having a good time back there,” Javi teases.

“I guess…” you mumble, kicking gravel aimlessly down the sidewalk. “But he wants to see me again.”

Javi hums as if he understands.

“I just don’t wanna get caught up in anything serious, you know?”

“Oh, but I’m the asshole when I say I’m not good at commitment?”

“That was Steve, not me, and to his credit, you said you left someone at the altar. You committed and then you backed out. You broke a promise – that’s why you’re an asshole.”

“Then, she dodged a bullet by not marrying an asshole like me.”

The rest of the walk home is silent. Tense, and not the good kind.

This is not the climax of the movie where Javi pushes you up against the wall next to your apartment door, and you engage in the steamiest makeout session allowed on cable television – the kind where you pull away panting, take one look into each other’s eyes and realize you’ve been in love all along.

Until you reach your apartment, and when the two of you part ways, you say to him, “I’m sorry I called you an asshole.”

“It’s okay.” I’m used to it, he thinks. “People have said a lot worse about me.”

With Connie and Olivia back in Miami, Steve has a spacious apartment to himself, which is where the three of you decide to congregate after your little hook-up with the bartender the week prior.

Buying a case of beer from the convenience store is much more cost-efficient, and Steve can easily talk to his wife on the phone when he gets a little too drunk and misses her, leaving you and Javi in his living room together.

Briefly, you both listen to him murmur into the handset, cradling it like a baby. If it were someone else, you might gossip, at least speculate, but there’s nothing salacious about it, and despite the fact that Steve will one day return home to his loving wife, beating all of the odds currently stacked against them, it’s not a tale of epic romance. Not that Javi knows anything about romance anyway.

You and Javi sit in the living room, chatting about nothing important, mostly bitching about work and how there’s never anything good on TV anymore. But then, out of nowhere, as if it’s nothing special, you mention a man – a colleague, but the DEA is a large organization, so Javi is unfamiliar with him.

“He asked me out.”

“Did you accept?”

“Yeah, I figured, why not? You know? I feel like I should get to know more people. I really only hang out with you and Murphy.”

“Oh, so we’re not good enough for you? I’m offended,” Javi says, sarcastically, but there’s a grain of truth deep down.

“You know you’ll always be my favorite, Javi.” You lean your head on him and he hadn’t realized how close you were sitting until now.

“Yeah, yeah.” Javi nudges you with his elbow, pushing you away despite himself. “Now, tell me about this guy you’re going out with.”

“He’s really sweet, and like super polite… a gentleman,” you decide.

“Oh, so you like a ‘nice guy’? Someone you can bring home, someone who holds the door open for you…”

“I guess. He’s pretty handsome, too. He’s got brown hair, and pretty brown eyes – kinda like yours.”

You smile, so he smiles. But, how can you say that with such levity?

Because he’s just a friend to you.

You've truly formed a bond with Javi by the time you step into the dating scene in Colombia. So much so that you ask Javi for his opinions on what you should wear for your third date – just as you did for your first and second.

"Either you're great with fashion advice or you're my good luck charm," you say. "So, I need you to tell me which looks best."

"Okay. Go put on outfit number one before I get bored and fall asleep on your couch."

"I'll be quick, I'll be quick. You can pour yourself a drink if it'll keep you awake."

He's never been one to turn down a drink, but what keeps him awake is your 'fashion show'.

"This is outfit number one," you say, smiling in your classic little black dress.

"Beautiful," he says honestly.

"And then," you say as you begin to unzip your dress.

"Whoa-"

"What?"

"Why are you getting undressed?"

For the first time, he's nervous to see a woman naked.

"Each outfit has a matching set of lingerie, so you have to see that too in order to accurately judge."

He gestures for you to continue and tries to keep his expression neutral. And his dick soft.

It's torturous to see you stress so much when he knows the guy doesn't deserve the sight of you like this. Neither does he, for that matter.

"You really like him?" He asks.

"I mean, yeah sure, he's nice, and he's good-looking"

"But you're not over the moon about him." He can hear it in your voice. You don't deserve to settle.

"No, but you can have sex with someone you're not over the moon about - you, especially would know that, Peña."

"Yeah, but I don't dress up all fancy just to have sex."

He has the tendency to get attached even in the most casual of situations, so he’d never dare make an occasion out of sex.

You sigh. "I guess I do, or else I wasted a shit ton of money on lingerie."

"Fuck the money. Do you actually wanna fuck this guy? 'Cause you know you don't have to. It's not a written rule."

Javi surprises himself with how much of his dedication to making sure you're making the right decision is out of genuine platonic care for you and not jealousy for the man who might get the chance to sleep with you.

"I know I don't have to, but I want to, and I want to look good for him because I want to make a good impression."

He shrugs, dissatisfied. You don't get it, you'll make a good impression no matter what you wear. Any guy would be lucky to get the opportunity to sleep with you, he could say, but it would come off wrong.

His silence allows you time for thought, for worry. Seemingly, apropos of nothing, you ask him if he's ever had sex with a woman who was 'bad in bed'.

"Sort of, not really. Nothing really bad, but I've had times where we're both pretty drunk and it's just… not great. One time I hit my head on the wall." He smiles at the stupidity and you laugh.

"Sorry. I'm sure it hurt."

"It hurt like hell, but it wasn't totally her fault. Another time, a girl's phone would not stop ringing, and she eventually picked it up and it was her mom telling her that her grandma died."

"Did she kick you out or did you stay to comfort her?"

"Depends on what you mean by 'comfort'."

"You did not continue fucking her."

"I did. But, as you can imagine, the mood was kind of ruined."

"Luckily both of my grandmas are already dead, so that won't be an issue."

"See? There you go. Just don't drink too much, make sure he doesn't hit his head and maybe take your phone off the hook."

But you continue to spiral through worries, telling Javi each and every one of them while he sits at the foot of your bed.

Will you bring your date back here? Is the only worry in his own mind.

Eventually, he asks you, "do you like him? Yes or no. And I mean really like."

"Yes."

"Do you trust him?"

"I don't not trust him."

"That's not the question I asked."

"It's hard to make a blanket statement saying that I trust someone. Trust him with what? To save my place in line, a briefcase holding a million dollars, my life?"

"Let me ask you this way then, who do you trust?"

"My mom, my sister, Murphy, you…"

"When you say you trust me, what does that mean for you?"

"I've trusted you with my life many times before and I'd do it again. But in our jobs we have to put our lives on the line."

"If he had my job would you trust him like you trust me?"

"Not as much as I trust you."

And somehow Javi is stupid enough to think that this means you'll skip the date, maybe even schedule one with him, but you go as you planned to – if he were able to look at you dressed in lingerie and keep his opinions completely detached and as objective as possible, he would say you should go with the red set because it looked the best. But he hopes, selfishly, that you saved it for his eyes only.

As most relationships do, that one ends. The man - whose name Javi rid his mind of - breaks up with you. You lament over it for about a week and then move on.

Javi lets you cry it out with your face buried in his t-shirt, staining the fabric with mascara tears. It was his favorite, but he rubs your back and holds you closer instead of telling you to stop using him as a tissue.

“It’s his loss,” he says along with all the typical phrases one expects to hear after a devastating breakup.

But what makes you feel better is when Javi suggests you watch the episode of Cheers he’d taped earlier that week.

“Can I lie down while we watch?” you ask.

“Yeah. How do you want me?” he asks because the couch is the only piece of furniture facing the TV, which means you’ll have to share it.

“You wanna lie down behind me? You could be the big spoon.”

He nods, lying down on his side, leaving space for you to curl up beside him.

He wraps his arm around you lazily, resisting the urge to run his hands down the side of your body, to touch you everywhere.

“Can you see from back there?” you ask.

“Mm-hmm,” he lies. He’s already seen the episode, he’d much rather fall asleep with his body pressed up against yours. It’s the closest he’s ever been to you.

Javi has practiced the art of keeping himself hidden. It's a useful trait as both an agent and a reluctant hopeless romantic. He never gets too drunk, not like you and Steve. He never reveals what lies below the facade of a grouchy, sometimes disobedient but wholly dedicated agent on your Friday night hangouts. He disguises himself as a womanizer, an asshole, until he can't anymore.

You find him in desperation. Post-tragedy, a traumatic incident that he can't quite shake. It makes him vulnerable. He does the right thing the first time – he calls up Gabriela and fucks her like he hates her, tips her real well afterwards. The second time is when he makes the mistake of seeing you, not just looking at you when you cross paths, but seeing you.

He knew things were bad after seeing Murphy teary-eyed for the first time. It brought the first incident to the forefront of his mind again. A cigarette and some fresh air would help, he thought. But when he steps outside, he finds you.

"It's late," he says.

"Why are you out here?"

"I can't sleep."

"Me neither."

You won't look at him. Why won't you look at him?

"I heard what happened today."

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"I'm not asking you to talk about it. What I'm saying is, I know what you're feeling."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do, and you know it. We were both there when-"

"I don't wanna talk about that either."

"Good. I don't either. We should go inside. It's not safe for you to be out here right now."

"I'm not a fucking baby."

"You know what I mean. I'm trying to help you, okay?"

You ask him to stay with you – that's what will help, you say. He shouldn't, but he's too weak to say 'no'. You make him weaker.

"I need to forget," you tell him, and he knows exactly what that means.

It means sex. It means throwing away the future he could've had with you. Not the romantic kind – that was already gone, that's been gone since before you came into his life. He won't have a white-picket-fence-two-and-a-half-kids-in-the-suburbs kind of future with anyone. But he could've had a friendship, he could've gotten the gift of existing near you without any tension, something light and untouched even if it meant keeping himself at a distance.

But, you need this. You're begging him to fuck you, and if he chooses not to, it'll only make things worse – you'd withdraw from him entirely in embarrassment from his rejection because there's no way he can tell you that it's not because he doesn't want to have sex with you. God, no – he wants to have sex with you. In his ideal scenario, you get drunk once – on a business trip, at Steve and Connie's house, at the celebration of Escobar's demise – and you make the "stupid mistake" of sleeping with each other, and it becomes an inside joke between the two of you.

In his dreams, you get married on the beach or at city hall or even at a church if that's what you wanted. But dreams are dreams for a reason. They're distinctly different from reality. They don't come true.

In reality, Javi says the best thing he can, which is "okay", and he lets his lips collide with yours.

When your frantic hands begin to strip him of his clothes, he wants to tell you "it's okay, we have all night" because he wants to take it slow. He knows he won't last long when he gets inside you.

He tries to balance eagerness with gentleness when he takes off your clothes. He wants to be close to you.

"Let's go to your bedroom," he mumbles into the crook of your neck.

You don't bother to pick up your clothes, which are strewn near the doorway, so Javi doesn't either. He can tell you're impressed when he undoes your bra with one hand, and it makes him laugh, a little proud too, despite the fact that it's no more than a party trick (if you consider sex a party).

But his need to be the best you've ever had has him dropping to his knees in the hallway, and it's milliseconds before his hands are gripping your thighs and his nose meets the fabric of your panties.

He looks up, and asks, "can I take these off?"

"Yeah," you say, assisting him by slipping them down your own thighs.

With how quiet you are in the office, he expected you to be the same in the bedroom but you're not. The moan you let out when his tongue meets your clit is loud and unashamed – his favorite kind. It spurs him on.

"Javi, Javi, Javi - wait - I'm - hold on-"

So, he stops. "What's wrong?" He massages your thighs while he speaks, soft and sweet.

"I'm gonna cum."

"I know. That's the goal."

"But I'm gonna fall over."

"You're not, baby. I'm gonna hold onto you. But, if you want, we can finish this in bed." He doesn't wait for an answer before lifting you over his shoulder.

It makes you gasp, just like his lips did moments ago, but this time it makes him laugh. Only you could make him smile on a night like this one.

He doesn't tease you, he dives back in, lapping at your folds, more desperate for your orgasm than you are. If Javi is one thing, it's dedicated, and the bedroom is no exception.

You're still panting when you ask him to fuck you. It might be the first time you've said 'fuck' in front of him. "Fuck me" is Javi's line.

Utterly captivated by the sight of you disheveled beneath him, he agrees.

The second time you say 'fuck' is when Javi tells you he'll go grab a condom from his wallet – which is in his jeans, which are somewhere near the front door – and you say 'fuck it'.

And, utterly captivated by the sight of you, he agrees.

"How do you want me?" he asks.

"Rough," you say. "Make me forget."

You say it with such conviction that he sighs and says, "Okay. Turn over."

He buries himself to the hilt in a single thrust and since Javi can't see your face, he can't tell if the moan you let out is pleasure or pain, so he leans in and whispers into your ear, "Tell me if I'm hurting you."

"I want you to hurt me."

I don't want to hurt you.

Something holds him back from saying it. He's not one to disappoint, especially in this facet of life. So, he saves the kiss he wants to place on your cheek for later. Instead, he drags his teeth along your soft skin and bites the flesh.

He fucks you hard, the way you want him to – holding onto the headboard, hips slamming into yours from the back at a merciless pace, and maybe if you weren't you, he'd feel different about this. But, instead of staring into your eyes and trying to cover up the immense fondness he feels for you, he looks at the pictures that hang on your wall, held up by clothespins on a string–you're smiling with your friends, blowing out birthday candles, laying on a beach towel in a bikini. He is in none of these photos. Why would he be? You've never taken a photo together. He's not a part of your life like that.

All the while, he keeps an iron grip on your hips and keeps a steady rhythm. Your moans turn into sobs, and he doesn't know how much longer he can take. Both because hearing your cries makes him feel conflicted about everything and because your walls are so tight around him, you're soaking wet and your legs are trembling. It's not long before he feels your pussy spasms and your whole body jolts – you have the sense to scream into your pillow, but he can still hear it.

Finally, he pulls out and jerks himself off, letting his release spill onto your ass, and once he's let go of you, you promptly flop down fully onto the mattress.

With the room finally quieter, you hear banging on the front door. You're about to get up but Javi stops you. "Stay there. I'll deal with it."

He slips on his boxers and flings open the door, and it's the person he least wants to see. Steve. Not because he hates Steve, but because Steve will bring this up.

He doesn't even have to say anything.

"Sorry. We'll keep it down," Javi says.

"Good" is the only word he says, though it's clearly not 'good' because Steve looks more pissed off than he's ever seen him.

He tells you it was a neighbor, but doesn't specify which one. He cleans you up, and prepares himself to leave. That's how this goes, right?

"Stay," you say, tugging him by the hand, so he falls back into bed.

He falls asleep with his bare skin flush against yours but this time it's gentle. He gives you a kiss on the temple before you turn out the light. You're silent but you smile.

The hurt comes the next morning. For you, it's physical, but can you really complain? For him, it's deeper than that. You're deeper inside him than he ever was inside you.

He retracts his hand from your body, hoping he can slip away before you notice but you turn to him, fully-awake.

If life were different – kinder, he would smile at you and you would try to kiss him.

"Mm-mm. I have morning breath," he'd say.

"I don't care," you'd say, grabbing his cheeks and pulling him towards you.

He'd pull back, just to argue because he likes the way you pout and the way he falls for it every time. You'd settle for a kiss on the forehead with the promise for something more after Javi brushes his teeth.

The quest for better breath would all be for nothing since he'd have coffee and a cigarette for breakfast (you'd tell him to eat more, of course), but you'd kiss him anyway.

His eyes linger on you for too long while he fantasizes, long enough for you to notice – for you to begin to see him for who he is.

Murphy brings it up at work when you're out of the room. Javi can see it in his eyes before he says anything.

"Sorry for keeping you up," Javi mutters, straight-faced and honest.

"Nothin' else to say?" Murphy probes. He seems more curious than angry.

"Nope. Is there something you think I should say?"

"You fucked her," he whispers.

"Yes," Javi whispers back.

"How? Did it just happen? Or have you guys been a thing for awhile now and I just haven't noticed?"

"We're not a thing."

"You're not not a thing."

Javi doesn't have to admit to Steve that he's right because you walk into the room.

He is forced to silently admit what you are to him when he fails to hold back a rare smile upon seeing your face.

He sees Gabriela again, and though he's slept with her more times than he's slept with you, it still feels like he's cheating.

"What are you thinking about?" she asks while he stands by the window with a cigarette hanging from his lips.

"Work."

"Bullshit." She exhales a breathy laugh.

"Yeah."

"It's not something, it's someone. Isn't it?"

He turns, silently.

"I could tell you were thinking about her when you were fucking me - I thought it was just a sexual fantasy, but you're still fantasizing… and we're not fucking anymore."

"You'd be a great shrink, you know? In case this doesn't work out for you."

"It's working out fine." She flashes him the wad of cash he handed her before they got in bed together.

"Right."

"Maybe I'm supposed to be offended, but you were sweet this time - gentle. If you keep fucking me like that, I don't give a fuck who're you're thinking about."

"You liked it?" He asks with a flirtatious glint in his eye, opting for indulgence as distraction.

"I did. In fact, I think you could get a second round. On the house."

His cock springs to life and he slips out of his jeans. He fucks her slow, pressing kisses down her spine. She cums twice and he feels like a god.

But not like a lover, not like her lover.

You sleep together again, but you don't have sex. You're tipsy off whiskey in his apartment one night, trying to shake off the past week.

The DEA, being of the USA, only knows violence as conflict resolution, so you and Javi aren't trained to solve any problem that comes after the fighting is over. Distraction is the best you can do and alcohol is often one of the greatest methods.

"I wish we had something stronger than whiskey," Javi remarks.

"When in Medellin…" you say, swiping a finger under your nose.

"I think the amount of coffee I've had today is probably equal to a gram."

Doubtful, considering Javi is dozing off in his chair.

"Javi," you say, snapping your fingers to get his attention.

Startled, his body jolts awake. "What?" he asks, frantically.

"Nothing. You're just falling asleep."

"Sorry. I didn't sleep well last night."

"I figured. Everyday for the past week, you've looked like you're going to keel over. Are you okay?"

He takes a deep breath. Shakes the magic eight ball in his mind. Try again later. "I've just been having a lot of nightmares recently. It hasn't been like this since I was a kid."

"Well, how'd you get them to stop back then?"

"My mom used to sleep in my room with me."

He smiles at the thought of his mother. He doesn't often think of her because the funeral comes to mind. But sometimes, when he's lucky, she'll come back to him in memory - now, he sees her through a childlike lens, her face bright despite the bags under her eyes. The love he felt for her was so simple and pure.

His love for you is the most complicated kind.

"I'm not your mom, but if you want, I can sleep over."

"You'd do that for me?"

"Of course. I'd do anything for you."

You say it so flippantly that Javi barely has time to process it. It's better that way.

Finally, he gets a good night's sleep. But that only makes him need you more.

You both go on pretending things are the same until Carrillo dies. He was always the catalyst.

"I don't do funerals," Javi tells you.

You nod, pursed lips, accepting his decision. Giving in easily, which is unlike you.

"I'm thinking about leaving," you announce abruptly.

"You should go home, get some rest, especially if you're going tomorrow." To the funeral. Javi can't stand the word either.

"No, I'm thinking about leaving."

"Leaving where?" He already knows.

"Colombia."

"Are they reassigning you?"

"No, I'm quitting."

"Have you told Messina?"

"No. You're the first person I've told."

He nods and takes a deep breath. "Is that what you want to do? Quit?"

"I don't know. I wanted your advice."

"It's your choice, not mine." I'll miss you.

"I just can't do it anymore." You reveal yourself. You shatter.

"Hey." He places a hand on your shoulder, but you fall into his arms. "That's not true. You're strong. You know that you're strong."

I need you, he means.

So, you stay.

There is something about the grief that fuels you both to fight harder. You're no longer just fighting for justice, you're fighting for vengeance. It makes you both colder, more numb to the cruelty.

But physically, neither of you are much stronger. You overestimate yourselves, run through the streets with handguns after blood-hungry sicarios.

In his pursuit of one of the men, Javi fails to see a shooter on the roof with a gun aimed right at him. You see it, and shove Javi out of the way.

The bullet only grazes you, and Javi leaves with a few scrapes and dirty clothes. And guilt.

A shopkeeper who seems all too used to crisis situations grabs a first aid kit while Javi sits with you.

"You're not gonna call for backup?" you ask.

"No use. They got away. Let's just focus on this right now, okay?"

"This" means the wound on your side.

"It's not a big deal," you say, though you're clearly on the verge of tears.

"You got shot. The number one priority is making sure you're safe."

"Didn't you say that we can't focus on the casualties? That Escobar wins if we waste time mourning our dead?"

"Neither of us are dead."

You'll need more than the basic first aid that Javi can give you, nevertheless, he uses an antiseptic to clean the wound.

You break down in tears at the burning sensation.

"You're doing so well," he tells you, "I'll be done in just a moment."

When the ambulance arrives, he insists on accompanying you to the hospital.

They ask him who he is and he flashes his DEA badge, knowing that "friend" doesn't mean anything in this case.

Friend isn't enough.

You don't need surgery, just stitches – and some pretty decent pain pills. The kind that makes you sleepy.

Once the two of you are alone, after the doctors have finished with you, Javi tells you - finally, "Thank you, by the way, for saving my life."

"Who's to say it would've been a fatal shot?"

"Still." He leans down and kisses you on the cheek in lieu of saying anything else, knowing how badly he could fuck this up if he lets himself say everything he's really thinking – if there are even words for his feelings.

Luckily, there might not be.

"Javi," you whisper.

"Yes, hermosa?"

He rarely calls you nicknames, so it seems to fluster you a bit.

"Can you kiss me for real?"

"How much of those drugs did they give you?"

You look like you're holding back a batch of giggles and Javi can't help his stupid grin.

Before his cheeks hurt from smiling the most he has in a while, he leans in and kisses you – for real.

Breathless, you pull back and ask him, "do you think we could get away with doing it here?"

"Are you serious?" There's no way you are, he thinks, and yet he considers the option. "No, cariño, we shouldn't risk it."

He does take you home with him, but again, you don't have sex.

In the morning, you tell him confidently, "I'm leaving."

And he knows you don't just mean his apartment.

"I just can't do this anymore – the constant fear of dying was bad enough, but now…" you point to the bandages covering your stitches.

"I know." It doesn't matter what he says. You're going to leave anyway.

And, he feels guilty for convincing you to stay anyway. You should've left before this, but he was selfish and wanted to keep you a little longer.

He doesn't say goodbye in the way he wants to. He lets you go with a kiss on the forehead after waiting with you until you're called to board.

"Goodbye, Javier," you say.

He can't say anything back or he'll cry. The kiss is all he can give.

You call periodically at first, but the calls get more sporadic until they disappear entirely.

Javier is used to falling in love. So much so that he expects to feel the same way about the next woman he sleeps with. He gets attached to one woman, and then moves onto the next, loving her the same way as the last. The process of forgetting involves ending up in the same mess, feeling the same thing for someone who is blonde instead of brunette, or brown-eyed instead of blue, maybe a cup size larger in the bust. Something old, something new. There is more to the phrase, but the idea of commitment began and ended with Lorraine back in Texas.

Texas. After all is said and done in Colombia, he goes home. Like you, he can't do it anymore. His mind is already rattled with nightmares and his body is worn out.

There's an airport in Laredo, but he can't get a flight there until Monday, so he decides San Antonio is close enough.

The airport bars tend to be filled with people waiting to depart, not passengers who have already arrived. But, Javi decides to have a drink before calling a cab. There isn't any rhyme or reason to it. His feet lead him there, not his brain.

There are two open barstools, one on each side of a woman he can only see from the back. He chooses the one to her right. She looks like you, he thinks, just a slightly different haircut.

He barely glances at you before trying to wave down the bartender.

"Javier?" It's your voice from next to him.

He turns his head so quickly he swears he might've given himself whiplash. He's speechless, but smiling.

"What are you doing here?"

"On my way home. To Laredo."

"You left Colombia?"

"Yeah, I quit."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"I didn't know you wanted me to."

It's been years since we talked, he thinks. The last conversation was about you leaving.

"Are you on your way home or…?"

"Yeah, I will be, once my boyfriend gets our bags."

Boyfriend. Boyfriend who gets her bags. Boyfriend who sits next to her on the plane. Boyfriend whose spot is beside her.

"Oh."

"I feel like I've been sitting here forever."

"It's hectic down at baggage claim."

"Yeah, there's a million suitcases and none of them are mine. I really hope it's not lost. My favorite necklace was in there."

"The gold one… with the pearl?"

"Yeah, that one." You grin, excited yet surprised. "You remember that?"

I remember seeing it on your bedside table. I remember you taking it off with everything else. The one thing you didn't tear off, the one moment you slowed down.

"Yeah, you wore it all the time."

"And you stared at my tits a lot, so…" You wink, sipping your drink.

"I did not… not all the time."

A man walks up behind you, lugging two suitcases.

"Hey, babe," he says, kissing your cheek.

"Oh!" You beam at him. "This is Javier. My coworker from back when I worked at the DEA."

Coworker. Not even friend.

'Eric' – as he introduces himself, extends his hand to shake Javi's, and it feels like he's making a deal with the devil. Promising your love – something he doesn't even have – to this man for nothing in exchange.

"I'll see you around," you say.

And he thinks it's just politeness, an everyday lie, but you call.

You invite him to your housewarming party.

“Eric and I just got our own place,” you tell him.

Javi congratulates you, and it’s an empty platitude. He says it because he has to – why else would he be here if not to celebrate you and your new home? He knows why.

He shouldn’t have come at all, but he had no excuse that he could give you. The reason why wants to see you and the reason why he shouldn’t see you coincide, but after years of knowing you, and years being apart, he still can’t admit that reason.

You were right to call him a coworker – it’s an undeniable truth. You might have been friends too at some point back in Colombia. To make the best out of the situation, Javi brings a bottle of wine – that’s what a friend would do. It’s a nice red blend, something too expensive for Javi to buy for himself. He managed to save money by not buying you a bouquet of roses. It’d be too romantic a gesture coming from a friend, let alone a coworker.

The party is an intimate affair. Everyone he speaks to is friendly, even your boyfriend, and while he wants to be happy for you, he can’t help the fact that it irritates him more than anything else. He is no better than this man – in fact, he’s worse.

Over the course of the evening, he meets coworkers and friends of yours. “I love you all,” you tell them, “but Javi’s my favorite.”

Everyone tells him he’s a hero for taking down Escobar, including you. He feels like a fraud, but accepts their thanks humbly because it’s easier not to talk about it.

He’s happy when the attention is taken off of him. Eric makes a toast. It’s to you, to your future.

A wave of nausea hits Javi as he watches your boyfriend become your fiance.

He shouldn’t drink anymore, so he goes outside for a cigarette. You appear by his side and the sweetness of your voice pains him.

“I thought I lost you,” you say.

“You could never lose me,” he lies.

When you show him the ring, he takes your hand in his, gently, pretending to care deeply about the shiny new diamond, but it’s just a rock, an obstruction, something hard covering your soft skin.

It’s beautiful, it suits you.

You linger on the balcony with him. You show him the ring, you let him touch it.

You must know that the goodbye hug you give him will be the last time you’ll touch him.

Despite the ring on your finger, you kiss Javi on the cheek one final time. Your fiance won’t mind. Because it doesn’t mean anything.

Javi doesn’t kiss you on the cheek. Because kissing you would mean something. It always has.

#javier pena x you #so good

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taylors-fourth-cat-meow · 3 years ago

Text

Tbh feyre's pov in the spring court in acowar was so embarrassing.. I can't even enumerate it all because they're too many

My clumsy ass accidentally deleted this anon but it was too good to pass

Hi anon!!

Yes please!! 😭😭😭 Istg I felt it was a little weird when I first read it but when I re read it...oh boy i think I was half crying half laughing and half screaming from the second hand embarrassment 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭(There are gonna be alot of these emojis cause that's how frustrated I am)

Lemme just show the things she's said it the first chp itself

The painting was a lie. A bright, pretty lie, bursting with pale pink blooms and fat beams of sunshine.

Babe NO 😭😭😭 This is how Sarah Janet mess decided to open the novel ??? 😭😭😭

But each brushstroke on the wide canvas was calculated; each dab and swirl of blending colors meant to portray not just idyllic spring, but a sunny disposition as well. Not too happy, but gladly, finally healing from horrors I carefully divulged.

Wtf is this 😭😭😭. ITS JUST A GOD DAMN PAINTING YOU DO THAT LIKE ALL THE TIME THERE IS NOTHING CALCULATED OR GIRL BOSS ABOUT IT PLSSSSS.😭😭😭

Also I think small sentences like these speak a lot about feyre's character. She is literally casually painting a picture of how spring would look like once it was healing from what horrors she was going to bring??? Either she so daft that she doesn't realise that it's not just the land and flowers that will be affected by what horrors *gags* she's going to bring but also the thousands of innocent citizens or she was in full knowledge of that what she was doing would bring death and harm to innocent lives and did it anyway.

I would have left the gilded halls stained red.

Now unless she plans to paint the walls with tomato sauce..shes talking about blood.

That they believed it so easily, that they thought Rhysand would ever force someone … I added the insult to the long, long list of things to repay them for.

AAAAHAHAHAHAAHAH 😭😭😭😭😭

ARE YOU FORGETTING THAT HE DID INDEED FORCE YOU TO GIVE HIM LAP DANCES HALF NAKED FOR THREE MONTHS???????????? THAT HE DRUGGED YOU?!?!? THAT RHYSAND HAS PUT ON A "MASK" OF BEING A HORRIBLE RUTHLESS TYRANT FOR CENTURIES??? THAT THE COURT OF NIGHTMARES IS KNOWN TO BE RHYSAND'S ACTUAL COURT AND EVEN HE ADMITS THAT THEY ARE MONSTERS WHO TREAT WOMEN DISGUSTINGLY??? ARE WE FORGETTING WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR BESTIE MOR??????

I allowed it because not allowing it, winnowing the way I’d done in the woods those months ago, or using an Illyrian defensive maneuver to knock him on his ass, would ruin my ruse.

She says this multiple times. What she is going to do and what she cud have done but won't because it would ruin her "ruse". Who let this idiot become a writer. Who let her graduate is my question.

Hybern’s force is too great to stop. It now can only be weathered like any other storm.” A glance toward Tamlin. “We have worked so hard to prepare ourselves for Hybern’s inevitable arrival—all these months.

This is Ianthee's dialogue...yeah I agree she is a bitch but what she is saying is true. Hybern was coming to the SC one way or another beacuse it bordered the wall. Ryhsie who has an entire state of warriors at his disposal says they cud not fight hybern alone so why do they expect tamlin to do that??? Why did they expect that he wud let his court to become a battle ground where two mighty armies will fight???

“Any promises he made of peace and immunity …”

Again he is just looking out for his own people.

“Hybern has promised that our people shall remain untouched and undisturbed.” Our people. I nearly scowled—even as I nodded again in understanding. “It was a part of our … bargain.” When he’d sold out all of Prythian, sold out everything decent and good in himself, to retrieve me.

*sighs* these adjectives (the ones in red) are used time and time again to state that tamlin was looking out for his court. That the deal included the safety of his people. But in the next sentence feyre some how manages to make this all about her once again. Also sold everything good and decent??? He is still good and decent you narcissistic bitch!!! No I will not argue pls read the fcking book. And "sold out all of prythian???" Bitch isn't that what your mate did for 50 FCKING YEARS???

But then again, that same blindness kept him from realizing what prowled beneath my skin as well. Ianthe bowed her head again. “I will endeavor to be worthy of my friends.”

If you honestly think this is good writting then I- well idk I can't say anything more I suppose.

This is only from the first chp.. there is soooo much of this idiotic immature writing throughout the books. I tried doing the second chp I really did..but my brain just couldn't handle it anymore.

#anti sjm #this shit is laughable #did she not have other humans read this ???#how this series got so famous and a tv adaptation is beyond me #anti acotar #anti acowar #anti feyre #anti rhysand #tamlin

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killuababie · 5 years ago

Note

Hii! So I am LIVING for what you’ve written s far and I was wondering omg you could maybe write some head cannons for a (possibly male?) reader who wears a choker like Harley Quinn from suicide squad like a really thick one? And karasunos reaction to them showing up to a practice in their punk/eboy clothes with chains and the choker and it’s like really tight and when they take it off it has intents in their neck?? And just their reactions👀🙇🏻‍♂️ pls ily💕

I do be questioning my sexuality.

Pairings: Karasuno X Male!Manager.

Type: Platonic headcanons.

Summary: Karasuno being the chaotic team they are questioning their

A/N: Hey I used male pronouns so I hope it's okay with you and that's what you wished for! Also, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT! I'm glad you liked my first work😭😭

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

You we're planning to not go to one of the team's weekend practice but since you had nothing to do better at home you're like lemme just-

BOOM! You put on your favorite black oversized thrasher shirt paired with cargo pants before adding some chains to your pants. To make your look spicier you put on your favorite chokers and tightened them a lil bit, they gonna leave a damn mark just the way you love it

You dramatically opened the door and thinking everything would be normal

"hey boys ho- OH MY GOD HINATA ARE YOU OKAY??" You screamed in worry as hinata FLEW across the court because he got spiked in his face while he was looking at you.

But nah they all collectively forgot ab him and went up to you to compliment your style.

Rip hinata 2k20

Kageyama was deadass asking for styling tips, like SPILL THAT RECIPE

Ofc the chaotic duo were questioning their sexuality, definitely along with our shy boi Yamaguchi 😳

Tanaka: BRO YOU LOOK SO GOOD-

Nishinoya: HOLY FUCK HOW YOU LOOK SO GOOD- IM TRYING TO BE LOYAL TO KIYOKO THE GODDESS-

You're low-key flustered with all the chaos, just when Tsukishima is like "Hey you look good in those clothes" AND YOU ALMOST DIED- LIKE HE HAS THE ABILITY TO COMPLIMENT WHEW?????

Hinata the undead is back and he's jumping up and down admiring your style and how your eating that shit up- that's when he notices your tight choker and he just wants to see it so bad.

Hinata: OMG YOUR- UH?? THAT THING AROUND YOUR NECK? Neck belt??? IS SO COOL-

You: Oh my choker?

You remove the choker so Hinata can try putting it on him which exposes the mark it left behind

Daichi: Omg it left a mark behind, chokers are kinda cool tho :O

You: oh yeah but make the chokers your hands and they'll be better. Haha just kidding.. unless? 😳

Daichi: 😳

Everyone: OO DAMN 😳😳

What's this sexual tension 😳

Yes that left Hinata confused but bby puppy was living his best life wearing that choker rn-

Y'all noisy mfs were about to get calm just when the goddess Kiyoko comes in and compliments you and Yaichi shyly agrees

Cue Tanaka and Nishinoya screaming and getting jealous but at the time they catch themselves agreeing with Kiyoko.

THEY'RE NOW CRYING BECAUSE THEYRE TORN AND THEIR BRAINS WORK NO MORE 😭

The practice ends up like that because everyone is being way too chaotic and Ukai has just up and left, calling it a day 😭😭

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#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu platonic #haikyuu x manager #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x male reader #karasuno x reader #karasuno manager

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ask-them-bois · 4 years ago

Text

Ancient Sounds 3/5

AS.pt.1 AS.pt.2

TW: Major Character Death

“Bluegill? You a’ight?” Rufuss called softly, knocking on the door gently.

Bluegill coughed again and cleared his throat, then wiped his bloody hands on a tissue. He dropped it down the side of the bed, out of sight, as Rufuss opened the door.

“Yessir, I’m alright.” He rumbled, forcing a smile. Rufuss blinked at him, the younger indigo’s earfins drooping.

“You ain’t lookin’ too good, partner.” Rufuss murmured, walking over to Bluegill’s bed and sitting on the edge beside him. Lil’ Lady, who lay at Bluegill’s feet, grumbled at the bed dipping.

“Prolly not, but I never intended ta win beauty contests wit’ this mug.” Bluegill chuckled, before he sighed. “I’m an ol’ troll, Rufuss. I think my body’s just ‘bout had enough.”

“You’re not that old!” Rufuss protested.

Bluegill gave him a pointed look. “I’m nearin’ forty-six sweeps, kiddo. That’s ‘bout average fer our blood, even with the seadweller part.” His fins twitched as he lay back against the mountain of pillows behind him.

Rufuss blinked at him, before he nodded, reaching up and pulling his hat off. “I ain’t wantin’ you to go.” He said quietly, running a hand through his own hair. Bluegill smiled softly, a wrinkled hand patting Rufuss’ broad shoulder.

“I know, partner, but you’ll do fine without me. You were doin’ great b’fore. You did somethin’ real special here, ya know? Thanks fer takin’ care o’ the old ranch fer me.”

Rufuss blinked at him and sniffled, nodding. “Thank ya kindly, sir. Do ya- do ya want me to… get someone? One o’ them purples, for… for last rites or somethin’?”

Bluegill laughed. “No, Mister Rufuss, I think I’ll be just fine. There’s only one purple I give a damn ‘bout.” He dug in the pocket of his long johns and pulled out an old, tattered photograph. He smiled at softly, the wrinkles on his face doubling, before he held it out to Rufuss. “Looksee.”

Rufuss took the photo and turned it over. The picture was old, faded, and yellow on the edges. It was a photo of a young Hounding, somewhere around six sweeps, his teeth bared and his eyes scrunched up as he tried to smile. His face and overalls were covered in dirt, his hair cut very short. He was leaning on the pasture fence, his head turned towards the camera.

“… Do ya want me ta get Mr. Hounding?” Rufuss asked, passing the photo back.

“No, sir. I don’t think it’d do much good. He ain’t wantin’ nothing ta do with me anyhow.” Bluegill tucked the photo back into his pocket and pat his chest gently. He looked down at Lil’ Lady. “All I wantcha ta do is take care o’ my ol’ gal when I’m gone. Her an’ Sweetpea.”

Rufuss looked down at the ancient basset hound, who raised her head and gazed at her master with big, sorrowful eyes, before she heaved herself to her feet. She waddled over to Bluegill’s side and flopped against him. “I don’ think she wants ya to go, either.” Rufuss frowned.

“Ah… prolly not, but she’ll join me ‘gain eventually.” Bluegill smiled softly, patting the fat bark-beast’s belly. His smile faltered after a moment. “There is, actually, one more thing I’d like you ta do fer me.” He said quietly. Rufuss looked up.

“What is it?”

“Bury me in the pasture, will ya? On the hill. ‘S where I was buried last time, an’ I quite liked it. Had a nice view o’ the sea and the sunset.”

Rufuss felt a lump rise in his throat. “Don’ be talkin’ like that.” He croaked.

“Mm. It’s all I got ta talk about now. Promise me, Ru. On th’ hill near the stables.”

Rufuss shook his head, reaching up to rub his eyes. “I- I promise, sir.” He rasped between his fingers.

Bluegill regarded his descendant fondly. “Don’ cry fer me, cowboy. Not yet. This is how I wanted ta go the first time ‘round. I ain’t got no regrets, an’ I know my ranch is in good hands.”

“I… I won’t-” Rufuss paused, wiping his eyes again, “I won’t letcha down, sir.”

“I know, kiddo.” Bluegill murmured, snuggling deeper into his blankets “You ain’t ever done it before. A man couldn’ ask fer a better descendant, ya know that? I’m plum-dumb proud o’ ya.”

Rufuss choked back a sob, forcing a smile. “Thank ya, sir.”

Bluegill turned his head to look at him, a tired smile on his face. “There it is. That ol’ Rufuss Wacoba smile. Don’t you ever stop smilin’, Ru, you hear me? This planet is pretty shit sometimes; all ya can do is keep on smiling, an’ look forward ta the next sunset.”

“Yes, sir.” Rufuss nodded, swallowing thickly. Bluegill huffed, pleased, and turned to look up at the ceiling before he closed his eyes. There was a moment’s silence before he spoke again.

“Could I ask one more thing of ya?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Go get my guitar, will ya? I wanna hear one more song. Ain’t right fer a man ta go in silence.”

Rufuss choked on a hiccup as he got up and left the room. Bluegill opened his eyes and looked over when he heard his footsteps retreat. He saw the younger indigo’s hat, left on the side, and picked it up. He slid it over his own brow, to cover his face.

“Mm. Don’t be tellin’ on me now, Lil’ Lady, but wasn’t all that truthful wit’ that boy. I got one regret left, after all. I ain’t gonna get ta see where this all ends. But I think I’m okay wit’ that. I’m tired.” He sighed. “I know Ru’s gonna be just fine. … Arrach, too. Make that another regret. Wish I coulda seen my kid one more time.” Lil’ Lady whined softly, pressing her snout into his arm. He pet her head again, before knitting his fingers over his chest.

The door opened again and Rufuss entered once more, a black and blue guitar in hand. His face was blue, eyes puffy from holding everything in. “What song do ya want ta hear?” He asked quietly.

“Hm… “Devil Child, Come Home.” That was always my favorite.” Bluegill replied, his voice very quiet now. His hand trembled as he tugged on the hat in salute. “See ya at the next sunset, Rufuss. Don’t you ever change fer no troll.”

Rufuss sat on the edge of the bed, eyes watering, and plucked a few chords. “It was an honor ta meet you, sir.”

Taking a deep breath, he pulled a pick out of his breast pocket and began to strum. After a few seconds, he began to sing.

His voice, by some miracle, didn’t crack or waver, and he sang. He sang his blood-pumper out, sang one of the most soulful songs Bluegill had ever composed. He sang about the moons, about the ranch, about the night an old rancher’s life changed. He sang of a demon with pitchforks for horns and bloody knuckles, and how that demon saved the rancher’s life. He sang of how that demon grew up, how that demon exchanged his fists for an ax, and how he left, leaving the old rancher alone. He sang of the rancher’s plea, for the demon to come home.

He sang of the rancher’s final words, of the rancher knowing the demon would take his soul when they saw each other again. Still, the rancher prayed for the demon to come back. Finally, he sang of the smile the rancher wore as he saw the demon appear on the horizon, and he sang of the rancher walking into the night to meet him, to welcome the demon home.

Rufuss strummed the last few cords, and let them fade into silence. He peeled open his eyes, his freckled cheeks wet and sticky, and turned to look.

He didn’t need to see it to know Bluegill’s chest no longer rose and fell. Lil’ Lady had her head on the old troll’s shoulder, eyes closed as she rested with her master for the last time. Rufuss set the guitar aside and smiled weakly.

“See ya at the next sunset, Mr. Bluegill.” He croaked.

Rising to his feet, he stumbled out of the respiteblock, and down the hall to his own. He sat heavily on his own bed, and finally let himself have a good, long, cowboy cry. His grief pooled in his hands and dripped through his fingers, splattering his already mud-splattered jeans.

Hours later, when his throat was raw and eyes were dry, he wiped his face and got back up. He wandered downstairs, to the mealblock, and got a glass of sweet tea. Sweetpea, Bluegill’s bark-beast grub, was on the couch, methodically gnawing a chew bone.

Rufuss pat her head, then wandered out onto the porch and sat in the rocking chair, staring out over the pasture. Part of him wanted to slink back inside, into his coon, to hide. But the other part of him knew there was still work to be done.

“Bluegill said cowfolk don’t leave jobs half finished.” He said to himself, bouncing his toes slowly to rock back and forth. Sniffling, he looked out over the ranch that was, once more, all his.

He could see the hill Bluegill had requested; it stood a few yards from the break, where the ground sloped down onto the beach. It’d do just fine, he thought.

Lost in his lapse of grief, the beeping of his palmhusk made him jump. He fumbled and pulled it out, to see a message from Gehero.

-GardeningWarrior began trolling OceanicBuckaroo!-

GW: 8. Hi, Rufuss. Is h3…? .8

OB: YeAh. A few hOurS AgO.

GW: 8. I’m so sorry. At l3ast you kn3w it was coming. .8

OB: ThAt dOn’t mAke it hurt LeSS.

GW: 8. I know. I’m sorry. Do you want m3 to com3 ov3r? .8

OB: NAh, it’S ALright, G. I’LL be OkAy. I’m juSt… thinkin’ mAybe I ShOuLd teLL Mr. UrfAth. BLuegiLL didn’ wAnt me tA teLL him he wAS gOin’, but I StiLL think he ShOuLd knOw he’S gOne.

GW: 8. I could go with you, if you want. .8

OB: I thOught he hAted yOu, thOugh?

GW: 8. Y3s, but you’r3 my fri3nd, Rufuss. I’m willing to fac3 him for you. .8

OB: YOu’re tOO kind, G. I’d AppreciAte it highLy if yOu’d AccOmpAny me.

GW: 8. Th3n it’s s3ttl3d. I can m33t you th3r3 now, if you’r3… r3ady. .8

Rufuss took a deep breath and drained his glass of tea, before he set it aside and stood up.

OB: Lemme fetch my hAt An’ bOOtS, An’ I’ll heAd yer wAy.

-OceanicBuckaroo ceased trolling GardeningWarrior!-

An hour later, Rufuss spotted Gehero standing by the gates to Hounding’s hive, twisting his claws through his hair anxiously. Rufuss sped up his pace, reaching up to tip his hat.

“Howdy, partner.” He called. Gehero looked up and smiled softly.

“Howdy, my friend.” He said, bowing slightly. The boys stepped forward and embraced one another, before pulling back. “How… how are you?” Gehero asked softly.

Rufuss smiled softly. “I’m hurtin’, G, but I’ll be alright.” He said honestly. Gehero nodded in understanding.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“At the moment, nah, but thank ya kindly fer askin’.” He said, before turning to the gate. “Let’s…” he took a deep breath, “Let’s go see Mr. Urfath.” He said, ready to get it over with. He tried the gate, and it pushed open easily for him.

“They’re not locked.” Gehero noted, sounding puzzled.

“Maybe he forgot. I left th’ paddock gates open a few weeks ago, plum forgot ‘bout it until one o’ the kelpies was standin’ on the porch.” Rufuss shrugged with a weak chuckle.

“Hounding doesn’t forget these kinds of things.” Gehero frowned. Shaking his head, though, he followed Rufuss up the marble steps of the large, dark hive. Lights shone through the windows, spilling onto the lawnring.

Rufuss swallowed thickly and walked up to the door, rapping his knuckles loudly against the black wood. There was a moment’s pause, before the giant door opened.

To both boys’ surprise, it was Ashhur who answered, the mutant red seadweller looking just as surprised as them.

“Why you here?” He asked, tipping his head.

“We need to see Houndin’.” Rufuss explained, tipping his hat in greeting.

“Master Urfath is business.” Ashhur informed him, before he frowned. He made several clicks and hums to himself. “Busy.” He corrected himself.

“This is important, though. Please, Ashhur.” Gehero stepped up. Ashhur glanced at him, all four eyes searching the purpleblood’s face, before he relented.

“Okay.” He stepped aside and motioned them in.

Thanking the redblood, Rufuss stepped inside and looked around; the mansion hive was decked in black and purple hues, with the barest splashes of red to give the place a gothic feel. The foyer alone was unnerving, the walls covered in mounted troll horns, skulls, and weapons.

Ashhur motioned for them to follow as he shut the door and headed towards the living block, his golden tattoos glimmering in the chandelier light; he was dressed in nothing but a pair of shorts, his multitude of fins on display.

“Master!” The seadweller called, “More visitors!”

The three of them entered the humongous living block, and both Rufuss and Gehero came to a stop.

Sat across from one another were Hounding and Oliver. Hounding sat in a throne-sized lounge chair, a faygo in hand and an amused expression on his face. Oliver sat snuggly on the lounge plank, his legs ankles crossed and cane laying across his lap, a soda of his own clasped in his claws.

Hounding looked up as they entered, his expression immediately darkening. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He snarled, setting his soda down.

Oliver turned her head in their direction, sniffing the air. “Purple and indigo… Oh! You two must be Gehero and Rufuss. Hello, darlings.” She purred, wiggling her fingers at them.

“Uh… Howdy.” Rufuss greeted her, tipping his hat. He swallowed nervously and stepped forward, looking up at Hounding. “Mr. Urfath, sir, I… I know you ain’t too fond o’ me, or- or Gehero fer that matter, but I got somethin’ ta tell ya.”

“Spit it out, then.” Hounding rumbled, scowling.

Rufuss took a shaky breath and hung his head. “Bluegill is dead.”

The silence that dropped was nearly deafening. Rufuss dared himself to raise his eyes, and saw Hounding staring at him, the purpleblood’s face suddenly blank, betraying his surprise.

“… How.”

“Just… age, sir.”

“When.”

“A few hours ago, sir.”

Hounding was silent for a long moment, before he took a deep breath and sat up. “Fine. Get out.” He said shortly.

“I- sir-?”

“I said,” Hounding spoke over him loudly, lips peeling back to bare his tusks, “get. Out.”

Rufuss opened his mouth to speak again, but thought better of it. He nodded and tipped his hat.

“Yes, sir. Have- have a good evenin’. Sorry fer your loss.” He turned away, taking Gehero’s hand and leading him out of the hive in silence. Rufuss only looked back when they were at the gate, and was surprised to see Ashhur and Oliver had followed them.

“Well, that was… anti-climactic.” Oliver hummed, looking both bored and disappointed.

“What were you doing with Hounding?” Gehero asked the olive, running his claws through his hair again.

“Oh, I just popped in for a hive visit, is all. He’s a friend of a friend of my morail. I just had a few questions for him.” Oliver shrugged, waving a hand dismissively.

Gehero frowned at that, working his jaw back and forth, before he turned to Rufuss. “What do we do now?”

Rufuss looked around, then up at the hive, then adjusted his pants and sighed. “I’m goin’ home. I got a body ta bury and critters who need dinner.” He said.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Gehero offered. Rufuss shook his head.

“No, it’s okay. You got critters o’ your own who probably want dinner. I… wanna be alone fer a while anyway.” He said, forcing a smile.

“… Alright. Troll me if you need anything.” Gehero told him. Rufuss nodded, tipping his hat to the three of them.

“Will do. See ya at the next sunset, folks.” He smiled, turned on his heel, and moseyed away.

Gehero watched him go, before he turned to Ashhur and Oliver. “… What about you, Ashhur?” He asked.

The mutant shrugged, the fins on his shoulders rippling. “I go back eventually. Master Urfath kicks me out… lots of times. I can go back later.”

“Well… it’s not safe for you to be out here uncovered.” Gehero reached down and undid his robe, slipping it off and holding it out. “Here. You can come stay at my hive for a while, if you’d like.”

Ashhur’s eyes all blinked at different intervals, and he nodded. He took the robe and slipped it on. “Okay.”

Beside them, Oliver hummed. “I suppose I should head home, too… Although, Gehero, darling, I was hoping to talk to you.”

Gehero turned to the oliveblood. “About what?”

“Well, word is that you… recently left your dear church.”

“I… I did, yes.”

“You must be feeling a little lost right now, right?”

“Um.”

“In need of a support system? Looking for a community to support you?” Oliver pressed, stepping forward.

Gehero stepped back, unnerved. “I- I have my meow-beasts-” He began.

“Yes, yes, your precious meow-beasts, I know. I’m more of a feather-beast person myself. Anyways, I know a community that can help you.”

Gehero perked up slightly. “You- you do?”

“I do, darling! A fun little club I host; a lovely group of trolls from all sides of the spectrum, many of which are going through their own hard times. We even have a silly name and we all get matching tattoos, and oh, it’s just a lovely, fun time.” Oliver purred.

Gehero’s face fell. “Oh. You mean the Black Hand.”

“Oh! You’ve heard of us, then?” Oliver beamed.

“Yes, Musrio warned me about you. I’m sorry, but I’m not looking into joining cults at the moment.” He said flatly. Oliver’s lips twitched in the faintest frown, before she was once again smiling.

“Ah, well, the offer still stands, my love.” She turned away, waving over her shoulder. “Good evening, my dears!”

Over her shoulder, she heard Gehero say, “Come with me, Ashhur.” She waited until the sounds of their footsteps faded away, before she let her smile drop. Digging in his purse, Oliver pulled out his palmhusk and earbuds, pulling up Trollian.

-SightlessFirebird began Trolling HeavymetalMeowbeast!-

SF: BB~. I have news~.

HM: OH??? ABOUT HIEROPHANT????

SF: Yes, my love~. I was just at the Hounding’s hive, when none other than Ru7uss and Gehero came in, and announced Bluegill had died~! Tragic thing, that~. Ah well, I suppose that’s just another number down on Musrio’s side, though~. Old troll passed in his own bed~.

HM: OH DAMN. WHAT ABOUT HOUNDING, THOUGH??? DID HE GIVE YOU ANYTHING USEFUL???

SF: He did~! An old trinket of Hierophant’s I think will come in handy~. I think it’s about time we had another meeting, BB~.

SF: It’s time 7or you to come home~.

HM: !!!!!!!

-SightlessFirebird ceased Trolling HeavymetalMeowbeast!-

#ancient sounds #story time #long post #very long post #bluegill #rufuss wacoba #gehero urfath #the hounding #oliver maddel #ashhur jaybez #tw character death #so long space cowboy

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thegreatestofheck · 5 years ago

Text

Little Village pt.2＊Outer Banks＊

Find part one here!

word count - 2407 warnings- a little bit of underage drinking but nothing other than that synopsis - June is overwhelmed with support from her little family. She struggles with the fear of taking after her own parents. As word starts to spread that she is pregnant, June has to decide which battles she’s going to fight and which she’ll let slide. tagging - @apoguecalledjj @ijustreallylovethem @jxpiter-sxturn a/n - so I just realized that “She Used to be Mine” from Waitress is pretty on par with the story I had planned out for June, so do with that what you will. I hope you enjoy this as much as the last one! The love I received made me feel so amazing, you have no idea. Thank you all so much! You know the drill; stay safe, stay healthy, stay groovy!

***

June could have very well told them that the sky was blue from the boys’ lack of reaction.

“Say something,” Kie said, hands on June’s shoulder.

“We knew,” John B said finally.

“You knew?”

“Well, actually, I figured it out,” JJ said, leaning back in his chair and tucking his hands behind his head.

“When?” June asked, voice breaking.

“That day I came home early.”

“How?”

“I know you better than you think, Jue. You were sick, you weren’t drinking, you barely even yelled at me for smoking in the house-”

“You were smoking in the house?”

“Shut up, John B. So, yeah, I figured it out. I had to tell John B because, well, you’re his big sis. Pope was being a snoop and he overheard.”

Mouth hung open, June dropped her head into her hands.

“And you didn’t tell me?” Kie asked. “What happened to no secrets between Pogues?”

“We thought you knew!” Pope protested. “Being a girl and all, we thought she told you.”

June wanted to vomit all over the floor. They knew this entire time. She had been trying to hide it for weeks and they knew. But they didn’t hate her. They didn’t treat her any differently. They still cared for her.

An unwanted wave of emotion passed through June and a sob came from her mouth, followed by a few tears. Kie dropped to her knees, arms still around June’s shoulders.

John B slid out of his chair and joined her on the floor.

“Hey, Junebird?” She looked up at him, shocked to hear her old nickname coming from his mouth. There were tears in his eyes as he folded her hands in his. “You’re not alone in this. I’m right beside you.”

“Yeah,” JJ said. “You’ve been there for us when we needed it. We’ve got your back.”

“Anything my family can do for you,” Pope added, scooting closer. “Just name it and it’s yours.”

“We’re your family, June,” whispered Kie. “We’re not going anywhere.”

When the emotions hit again, June reached out and pulled John B into a tight hug, trying to keep herself from crying in front of her little brother. A feeling of strength passed through her when John B hugged her back. Kie dropped her head against June’s shoulder. Soon, she felt JJ and Pope add themselves to the hug, June crying at the center.

She wasn’t sure why she had ever doubted them. Kie was right. They had always been her family. While it was true that her dad had been murdered only a year ago, she had lost him long before that. Without a mother and without a father, June wondered to herself how well she could raise a child. Was she even the right person to do so? What kind of life could she give a baby, working double shifts at a diner?

She wouldn’t let herself think about it now, though. For now, she wanted to be content that no matter what happened, she had a family surrounding her to help her raise a child. That was all she needed.

***

JJ tossed the book onto the dining room table, making June pick up her head. She blinked sleep out of her eyes as she looked up at him and then back down at the book.

“What’s this?” She asked, picking up the book.

“Baby names,” he said, flopping into the chair across from her, kicking his feet up onto the table.

“Feet off the table, J,” she said, flipping through the book. JJ rolled his eyes, not moving his feet. “Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass.”

JJ grinned and dropping his feet back down to the ground, leaning forward to snatch the book out of June’s hands. She sighed, glaring at him.

“Since we know it’s going to be a boy, I’m just going to ignore all the girl names,” he said, flipping to the back of the book.

“We don’t know it’s going to be a boy,” June said, dropping her tired head into her hands. JJ put his fingers to his temple and squeezed his eyes shut. “What are you doing?”

“Manifesting.”

“Stop manifesting my baby.”

“Our baby, Jue.” June shook her head. “Little baby Pogue will be one of us from birth.”

“Great,” June said, leaning back with a hand on her stomach.

“So, I was thinking you need a good, strong name. Oh, I know a perfect on.” JJ stuck his finger in the air as if it was a light bulb. “JJ. It’s perfect.”

“If you think I’m naming my baby after you, J, think again,” June said, closing her eyes. “Besides, I don’t think want to think about names until baby is born.”

“Oh, well, the others already have their own lists so you’re gonna have to take it up with them.”

June groaned as a sharp pain shot through her back.

“Lemme guess,” she said, shifting in her seat and grimacing. “Your list just consists of your name in as many different versions as you can muster.”

“No,” JJ said, dropping the book back onto the table. “I only have one name on my list.”

“And what’s that?”

“Elliot.”

“Elliot?”

“Yeah. My mom’s name was Eleanor, so, since it’s a boy, I thought Elliot was a pretty good alternative.”

“We don’t know it’s a boy, J,” June said. But she liked the idea. June promised herself that she wouldn’t think about names until the birth. She didn’t even want to know gender until then. It wasn’t important now.

But as she lay in bed, June couldn’t help but run the name over and over in her head. Elliot.

“Little Eli?” She whispered to herself in the dark, resting a hand on her stomach. With a shake of her head, June rolled over and squeezed her eyes together.

***

June somehow thought she had more time before she began to show through her clothes. In her mind, she could pretend that she was just bloating, and maybe that was a lie she could use, but she realized quickly that wasn’t the case.

She was at the general store, picking up food for that night’s dinner. Nothing sounded good, nothing normal at least. She wanted to make peanut butter sandwiches with cucumbers and ranch, but she had a houseful of people who would probably balk at the idea.

With a basket full of food that she had no desire to eat, June went to the candy isle. Never before had she craved anything sour, but all she could think about now was sour skittles. She threw a few packets into her basket before starting for the front of the store.

Before she made it very far, someone stepped in the way.

“Get out of my way, Topper.”

Ever since Rafe had gone to rehab or wherever to get himself better, Topper had taken over as douche numero uno. He especially had it out for John B and, of course, June. He was a pest more than anything, a rock in her sandal. She just couldn’t shake him out.

“I’ve heard a rumor about you, June,” Topper said, leaning against one of the shelves as he munched on an apple. June sucked in a deep breath and tried to smile.

“And what would that be?”

“That you’ve got a little bun in the oven.” Sickness passed through her as Topper’s gaze dropped down to her stomach. June rolled her eyes to cover the fact that she wanted to vomit on his Prada shoes.

“Maybe you should stop listening to rumors,” she said, attempting to shove her way past him.

“Then I guess you’re just getting fat,” Topper said with a shrug. June sneered at him and shoved him out of her way. “Tell your brother he better watch his back. I’ve seen that girlfriend of his sneaking around a lot recently.”

June knew full well why Sarah had been sneaking around. She had let John B tell his girlfriend and ever since then, Sarah had been at the Chateau almost every morning to hold June’s hair back while she emptied her guts into the toilet. Sarah came with a helpful tips, soft hands, and quiet humming. Of course, June would never tell Topper that in a million years.

“Will do,” June said, pushing past him.

She was in a bad mood all the way back to the Chateau, grumbling to herself about stupid children and idiot boys. Pope and Kie sat outside when June got there.

“Hey,” June said as she neared.

“Howdy ho,” Pope replied, flipping through the baby name book.

“I’m going to take a nap, I think,” June said, her feet starting to drag. “I have a shift tonight so I got some pasta. Tell JJ not to burn it this time.”

“JJ burned pasta?” Kie asked, a small smile on her face. June titled her head to the side and clicked her tongue.

“Have you told your boss yet?” Pope asked. June shook her head, setting the bag of groceries down on the porch.

“I don’t think I’m going to, not until the last minute,” June said. “I just don’t want to put any more pressure on her.”

“I have no idea how you’re going to hide it,” Pope said, shaking his head and looking back at the book. June watched him scribble something on a piece of paper.

“High waisted jeans and flow-y shirts,” June told him with a smile.

“Go, rest,” Kie said, picking up the groceries. “I’ll make sure dinner gets made.”

“Thanks, babe,” June said, giving a short kiss to Kie’s head.

“You’re going to be a good mother, Jue,” Kie told her, taking June’s hand. June smiled, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she turned toward the house and stepped inside.

Falling into her bed, June heaved out a deep sigh. Before she fell asleep, she set a quiet alarm that would give her enough time to freshen up before heading off to the diner for work.

But she couldn’t fall asleep. It didn’t matter how hard she tried or how tightly she squeezed her eyes, sleep wouldn’t come to her.

Kie’s words rumbled around in her head. A good mother...a good mother.

What did June know about being a good mother? The last thing she remembered of her own mother was watching her run out the front door, John B crying on the floor. June remembered the heartbreak she felt, not at watching her mother leave but listening to her little brother cry.

June didn’t have the first clue what it took to be a parent. Even with her little village, June wasn’t sure why she was kidding herself thinking that there was any hope for her child. Who would be raising the baby? A bunch of teenagers who wanted to spend their days smoking and drinking and herself, who was barely older and with fewer aspirations.

When her alarm started to ring, June felt herself stiffen. She wanted to sleep, but it wasn’t coming to her. And now there was no time. She pulled on the pants with the highest waist, covering the small bump, before pulling on a loose fitted shirt.

She worked and smiled through the discomfort. Her feet hurt more than usual, but she wasn’t sure why. Her back ached even from something so simple as bending down to pick plates up off of tables. It felt like even breathing made her exhausted. She spent her entire shift hiding her desire to vomit behind a smile.

The moon was out by the time June returned home, grumpier than she had been earlier in the day.

JJ and John B were sitting at the table, both Kie and Pope were gone. June was glad to see them chatting, empty bowls in on the table in front of them. When she walked in, they both turned to look at her with smiles.

“There’s some pasta left,” John B said, pointing at the stove.

“I’ll get it for you,” JJ said as he pushed himself out of the chair.

“Sit down, J. I’m pregnant, not paralyzed.”

Still, JJ went over to the stove, grabbing a clean bowl off the counter. John B patted the chair next to him and June lowered herself into it.

“I see someone finally cleaned the dishes,” she said, hiding a grimace with a smile.

“It was Pope and Kie,” John B said. “They had it done before we got home.”

“What were you two doing today anyway?” June asked, leaning back in her chair.

“Oh, just stuff,” John B said, playing his shoe laces.

“Just stuff?”

“Yeah. Just...stuff.”

June narrowed her eyes at her brother, but conceded eventually. She breathed out, dropping a hand to her stomach.

“So, JJ said that you have a list of names for the baby,” she said. “What’s your first pick?”

“Little Pogue is yours, Jue. Maybe I have a few ideas, but-”

“Are you really calling my baby ‘Little Pogue’?” June asked. JJ walked over and put down a bowl of pasta in front of June. “Thanks, J.”

“We’ve all been calling him Little Pogue,” John B said.

“And do you all think it’s going to be a boy?” June asked with a smile.

“Pope and Kie think it’s a girl,” JJ said, popping off the cap of a beer.

June rolled her eyes, eating the pasta slowly. It didn’t really make her feel any better and it was the last thing she really wanted to be eating, but she ate it anyway. There was no need to worry JJ or her brother by not eating.

“You should sleep, Junebird,” John B said, standing up and putting his hands on June’s shoulders from behind.

“Yeah,” she said with a yawn, chewing slowly on her pasta. She stood slowly, picking up her bowl.

“I’ll take that,” John B said.

“Again,” June said with a laugh. “Just pregnant, not paralyzed.”

JJ and John B started chattering to each other again, arguing about something that June didn’t really care to listen to.

“Goodnight, boys,” June sighed, starting toward the back room.

“Night, Jue!” JJ called.

“Sleep well,” John B echoed.

June smiled to herself as she shut her door. The day had been long, she was exhausted, but there was still a small glow in her heart. This time, when June crawled into her bed, she had no issues going to sleep.

#john b routledge #john b #john b obx #john b's sister #outer bank #obx #outer banks fic #kiara outer banks #pope outer banks #kie carrera #kiara carrera #pope heyward #little village #jj maybank #jj obx

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ilovejaskierthebard · 5 years ago

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Again @gods-no-longer-tread-here is here to be the best and most inspiring. How did you know I was secretly craving to write more on this lil angry bastard???

Which like...let me explain.

*deep sigh* I AM. FOREVER. MAD. About how much I love Baker!Lambert. 😂

I love Geralt. Jaskier is my soul and Eskel is the light of my life. Before this, Lambert was my fondly, disgustingly adored lil goblin baby man. I can not explain that more, if you have a lil trash baby character you know what I mean when I say I love him as much as I want to kick his ass.

((Oh gods, is this how Vesemir feels all of the time???))

But lemme tell you. I love Baker!Lambert. I do. I want to write 80 chapters of a slow burn fic where he falls in love with an equally competitive and angry baker who comes to town to learn from him. There would cakes with hand made icing that said 'Fuck You, Lambitch' in beautiful cursive. Pies that are golden and flakey from afar but up close the crimped edging would be lil dicks. There would 100% be a food fight of some sort that would eventually lead to Lambert walking around unaware that his ass has two very clear flour-hand prints.

((It would be a rom com for assholes, yall))

ANYWAYS so yes. OF COURSE there would be consequences of Lambert fucking with the thirsty town thots. I mean, for a long time i think they'd be too scared to individually pick a fight with him.

Like this man knows he is good at what he does, and he knows come monday morning you'd insult your own mother for one of his bagels. So that's one bit of leverage, but also he is very clearly 'the one down for murder' of the brothers. If you fuck with him, he will stab you. Bread knife. Icing spatula. Ovens the size of a man. The man works with a lot of tools.

So yeah, It would take a while for all the local Eskel thotters (whats the word for a gathering of thots??? A ho down?...thats the worst joke I've ever made in my life but Im keeping it in here.) To get together and realize 'oh shit' and that he has been messing with them all.

It probably starts small, just a few of them being like ): Lambert is such a meanie -but then more and more people join and they get drunk and then they want answers.

Cue to Lambert looking out his window to a fucking mob. Who just so happen to lose their collective shit all at the same time, on a day that just so happens to ACTUALLY be Eskel's birthday.

And of course you know Lambert just went balls out for this cake because he likes to show off. But also because, this is like an intimate family gathering and he deep down really wants to show them his work because he knows they'll love it.

Excuse me why I cry

So this cake. It's probably as tall as Eskel himself. Amazing flavors, idk like every layer is something crazy like white chocolate with rasberry filling or angel cake with passion fruit infused icing. It would be a heavily landscaped mountain, with sugar glass flowers and trees. Little edible goats -Eskel's whole herd with tiny party hats on- placed all around 😭😭😭

Lambert probably threw several tantrums and sold his soul to the devil to make it tbh

Which like, makes it all that worse because 1. He can not leave the cake behind to run away. 2. There is no way he can convince anyone that it isn't a cake for Eskel's birthday party. There is a lil candy made Eskel holding a baby Lil Bleater on top of fucks sake. So yeah. He needs not only sneak himself out but also the cake???

CUE CAKE HEIST

Somehow, through very dangerous and needlessly complex ways, Geralt and Jaskier help Lambert sneak out of his own bakery while also stealing the cake.

Some random high lights:

- They try and leave numerous ways. All fail. Even the weird ways. Like out Lambert's window on the second floor. The mob is there. Waiting.

-Jaskier's plan is to just have Geralt take off his shirt. The crowd is unimpressed.

-Jaskier goes feral. Calls the crowd a bunch of names/insults their whole family tree/gets into actual fist fight over someone saying they think Eskel has better abs.

-Geralt goes to help Lambert, but is constantly being hissed at because he is making the cake wobbly/not holding it right

- Jaskier + Horny Mob + ??? = Profit!!

- Actually no. It escalates to wild chase scene, a fire and three buildings being demolished. No one is hurt because they are all running around after this one feral bard

- Lambert: Aren't you worried if they catch him?

Geralt: No. I'm more worried for them. Jaskier is a biter.

Lambert: Gross. You better have all your shots, Geralt. I don't want to explain to Papa V you died getting feral bard rabies.

Geralt: *jerks the cake a lil*

Lambert: I will bake you into a fucking PIE

*Meanwhile Eskel is having a sort of off day, no one has showed up for the party yet except Vesemir and Ciri. Which like, he probably hates his birthday, hates making a big fuss but wonders what his brothers are up to, you know?

Eskel: Maybe they forgot?

Vesemir: *looking towards the town that is literally on fire* ...they'll be here soon.

Eventually, the boys show up, with the cake perfectly intact! - I mean, yeah. Geralt is missing a shirt, Jaskier is covered in blood and Lambert has a black eye but hey! Cake!

Eskel has a great birthday after all, and gives Lil Bleater a taste of his cake and tells Lambert he's proud of him -which 100% will make him cry and hug Eskel so hard that rib bones will possibly be fractured. Followed by a group hug because everyone needs and deserves them.

#domestic!witcher au #baker!lambert #lambert #horsetrainer!Geralt #Hot Goat Dad!Eskel #sugarbaby v #vesemir #eskel #jaskier

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thousandsunnywrites · 5 years ago

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Mister Sun

⤷ ficlet

part 1 | part 2

Ace x f!reader; romantic

⤷ synopsis: The only way to calm yourself down was by listening to Mister Sun by Barney. Sounds cute right? Don’t be a clown. This is a n g s t.

⤷ word count: 1,6k

⤷ a/n: aHHHHH heres my comeback from my hiatus 😎hope y’all liked it, i was writing when it was 4 AM and i downtripped to lots of sad songs, remembering how good and youthful life was before I became a boring old hag. das all folks, lemme know what u think as always! (((also im trying this new format just for ficlets/og works teehee)))

----

“Oh mister sun, sun, mister golden sun,” Ace cooed as his rough fingers gently combed through your hair, “please shine down on me.” You shift on his lap, clearly still startled from the nightmare, but unwinding as he continues his humming while swaying lightly.

He was so warm against the cold night.

“You feeling better?” His head lulled a bit to the side, his loud yawn permeating the night air. Guilt bloomed in your chest for waking him up in these delicate hours, but you couldn’t help but need comfort. Your late mother always sang Barney’s song to calm you when you were younger, so naturally it was the only way to unravel your nerves, despite it being a child’s song.

“Thanks for doing this, I know it’s not really your style.” You briefly apologized. He waved it off.

“No biggie, anything for my girl.” He grinned, his toothy smile shining against the moonlit sea. Your giggle follows right after, his smiles always made you feel like everything was gonna be okay.

“Love you babe,” you dreamily sigh, still high off broken sleep.

“I know.”

You nestled your head on the meatiest part of his thigh, and fell asleep. When silence pervaded the air, he pulled you tight to him and closed his eyes. The tranquility of the night made you follow suit a bit after.

All things continued well, you went fishing with Ace the next morning, catching a bigger fish than him and bragging about it to Marco.

“Cheater!” Ace kept chanting as he demanded a rematch. “You just got lucky, lemme show you how it’s really done.” Grumbling, you acquiesced to his ramblings and hooked on bait.

“Ho,ho. You’re going down, lover boy.” You bore your sole into the wood of the deck, readying yourself for battle.

“Ready!” He counted down, “Set! Go!”

Fishing lines cast into the sea, a brief moment passing by before a fish tugs on your line first. Messily reeling it in, your feet trip over themselves, cursing as the rod slipped through your sweaty grip. Meanwhile, Ace grunted as he fought against his big catch before victoriously reeling it in. As much as you hate admitting it, you lost.

“Yeah!!” Ace rejoiced, admiring his fish, “we’re eating good tonight boys! Fire up the grills!” The resounding cheers of the crew followed after.

Moments like these, seeing everyone, especially Marco, merrily hammered with booze and seeing Ace mingling with the crowd, occasionally falling asleep, yet his smile never fading. It was moments like these that you wished never left because eventually everything becomes a distant memory.

As a little girl, you believed nightmares disappear after mom sings you to sleep. As an adult, you realized nightmares are never really gone; instead it slowly builds itself in a steady, continuous stream until it becomes real.

It became hell.

The marines took Ace.

Whitebeard rampaged.

And one thing leads to the other, you find yourself alongside his little brother on the battlefield. Ace looked disparaged sitting atop of the execution platform, protected by the best of the best.

“Ace!” With a determined look raging through his pupils, he grit his teeth and dug his fingernails through the log he was carrying, “We’ll save you! Y/n and I, we’ll save you!” His promise rang throughout the battlefield, commencing the beginning of the end.

The battle ensues, one thing leads to another and Ace is free, running towards freedom.

Until Akainu provokes him.

“Ha, the loser from the dead generation finally met his time.” The magma man inched closer as the flames flickered off of Ace’s body, angry.

“Take that back.” Ace growled, his white-knuckled fist engulfed in his flames.

Akainu snickered. “In other words, he’s an eternal loser who will never surpass Roger. Making all his underlings call him ‘old man’ and ‘father’ or whatever.... he got stabbed because his stupid ‘sons’ believed every word he said.”

“The old man gave us a place where we belong,” Ace lunged forward, fist in front, swallowed with rage, “don’t make fun of the old man who saved my life!”

He dodged gracefully, turning on his heel to jab Ace in the rib. They exchange punches, the belligerent admiral having the upper hand due to Ace’s lagging and recklessness. Akainu’s eyes shifted from the fire fist to the strawhat.

Perfect, he thought, time to end this.

He leaped in the air towards Luffy, the magma on his fist leaving a trail behind him and a smile as wide as ever. He won.

His fist never connected with the strawhat.

It bore a hole through Ace instead.

Even better.

Overwhelming dread filled the battlefield, especially in Luffy’s unwavering faith, because holy shit you’re not supposed to see right through him. “Ace!” Marco called from the other side, soaring to his side while everyone froze in fear as they watched the events unfold. Whitebeard can only watch in lament, knowing that he did all that he could and it still wasn’t enough. Luffy promised to save him, but why does it feel like he’s the one Ace saved?

He was there, within your reach. Why couldn’t you do anything? Why didn’t you do anything?

How could you let him die? Out of all the things you could’ve done for him, you cried.

Pathetic.

He was right there.

You rushed into the rumbling battleground, skidding against the concrete to plant yourself next to him. Luffy’s head whipped to you, holding Ace in his shaking arms. “Y-y/n,” Luffy trembled, and the look in his eyes said it all. He’s dying.

Ace exchanged a few incoherent words with Luffy, so melancholic that he went into shock, mouth agape as his eyes rolled back into his skull.

Swapping places with Luffy, you held Ace’s head on your lap. “Hey, don’t cry,” he brushed the hair clinging to your wet face, “don’t make that face. Doesn’t look like you.” He joked as you pulled him closer to your chest with your foreheads touching and hands shaking as it was on either side of his cheeks, screaming in frustration as tears stained the ground and shamelessly dripped over his face. The warm air contrasted with the coldness of Ace’s body.

“You’re gonna be fine,” your eyes scanned for a doctor, “you’re gonna live, you’ll be fine!” You called out to the nearest medic, asking them to save him.

“I’m sorry ma’am, it’s already too late, not much to do!”

“Bullshit! You’re a fucking doctor right? What kind of a doctor can’t even save a man dying in front of him?”

Scared, the poor doctor frantically skirted away, while Ace stared into your orbs, admiring them one last time. “No need to be upset,” he nuzzled his cheek against your thigh, “he can’t save me. Nobody can. My insides are fried.”

“Don’t talk like that!” If he wasn’t injured, you would’ve slapped the living shit out of him. “You’re not dying. I refuse. Get up.”

“It’s no use.”

You heave up his weight, slinging his arm over your shoulder, only to come crashing back down. The others watched in pity because all you can do was repeatedly punch the ground in dismay like a child throwing a tantrum.

“You can make it!”

“Y/n.”

“Luffy promised we’d save you and I intend to keep my word.”

“Y/n.”

While watching you trying to save him in vain, unconscious tears wet his cheeks as he bit his lip. It broke his soul to know that he has to leave you like this and there’s nothing he can do to help you. He wants to live. For you. But he knows better than to dream, especially in the condition he’s in. He haphazardly tapped your face with the fading strength he had.

“Y/n, calm down. I’ll be fine. Please don’t cry. Listen to me, yeah?”

You nodded, knowing it was a lie, but acquiescing to hear your lover.

“God, I’m so tired Y/n.” He took a shallow breath before continuing, “I wanna sleep but I don’t wanna go.” I don’t want to leave you alone, hangs on his lips.

This was the end of the line. You knew it was. His stagnant breaths told you so.

All of your movements stop, frustration replaced with empty acceptance. Ace can’t remember you like this, you thought, it’d only be harder for him. “Go ahead,” you manage to show him a forced smile, contrasting against your red nose and puffy eyes, telling him it’s okay. It’s okay to go. He was not nearly convinced, but it was getting harder to fight the sleep overwhelming his crisp body.

“Go sleep,” you encouraged once more, “I’ll be here for you, waiting for you.” You choked on the words as his smile relaxed, eyes fluttering shut.

“Love you, y/n.”

“I know.”

“Thank you for loving me.”

Clenching your fists, you bit the insides of your cheeks, hoping to drown out the deafening world. Everyone was screaming, but your heart screamed louder. Don’t go, your heart pleaded, I need you. Please don’t leave me.

But you knew better, Ace would’ve wanted to know that you’d be okay without him. You had to be strong. For him.

This is all that I can do for him.

Before all life left his body, you sang to him one last time, hoping it would provide him as much comfort as it did for you.

“Oh mister sun, sun, mister golden sun. Please shine down on me.”

The wind gushed by, taking his last breath with it. The end of the beginning was concluding, clearing a new path for a new era in its place. The war raged, filled with metal clashing and the wailing of crestfallen loved ones.

His vivre card burned, crumbling into thin air, as if it never existed.

Please wake me up from this nightmare.

#little miss angsty strikes again #part 1 cow tiddy suckers #one piece #one piece scenario #ace x reader #Portgas D. Ace

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letterstothemidnightsociety · 4 years ago

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CARRY ON MY WAYWARD SON IS JUST THE WHOLE MOOD FOR 2020, CAN WE ALL AGREE ON THAT?

Oh boy, guys, it’s here. The end. The very end. Tonight, Supernatural says goodbye for real this time. Maybe. Who really ever knows. But I’m not great at goodbyes, so instead let’s go back to the very beginning. It’s Supernatural!

So I’m here, at the season finale of Season 1. Very conveniently on the same day that the show is on the series finale of Season 15. It’s like I planned it, you guys! I did not plan this.

Also, let’s take a minute to appreciate the irony of using Carry On My Wayward Son in every season finale when the Winchesters will never be done, they’ll never have peace, they will never lay their weary heads to rest. Don’t mind me, I’m just laughing til I cry.

I genuinely think of the the last two episodes of Season 1 - “Salvation” and “Devil’s Trap” - as if they’re one episode. This is because a) I think they are designed to be a two-parter and b) they’re the only two episodes on the last disc of my box set BUT I think it’s important to note that these two episodes did not air on the same night. There was a week between them and that is...rough for an audience watching in real time. But when I watched it the first time, I was watching this exact dvd disc and of course I plowed right on through the cliffhanger in “Salvation” until the literal car crash that ends “Devil’s Trap”.

This disc! Right here! That has the real soundtrack on it, UNLIKE SOME STREAMING SERVICES!

Let’s look at a couple things:

Way back in 2006 when these episodes aired, Supernatural’s success was average at best? Even though it’s the 5th most watched show on the WB, it’s averaged a little more than 3 million American viewers per episode, which at the time, wasn’t great. In contrast, the #1 show of the 2005/2006 TV year was American Idol season 1 - an average of 12.7 million viewers per episode. So it’s not exactly a winner of a show, but it’s not too far behind the WB’s #1 show, Smallville, which averaged around 4 million viewers per episode. Still, Supernatural’s fate was uncertain. “Devil’s Trap” aired on May 4, 2006, but the show didn’t get renewed for season 2 until May 18. That’s two weeks of cliffhanger limbo, and lemme tell you, that would have been a real slap in the tits if the show had been cancelled.

Even further back, though, in January of 2006, it was announced that the WB and UPN would be renouncing their independence and merging under CBS and Time Warner company into what we know today as The CW. It was a network that was frankensteined together from the only working pieces of both networks and honestly I think that was a big reason Supernatural did get renewed. The CW was in need of some kind of programming to kick off the 2006 Fall Season and they greenlit new seasons for 13 of WB’s and UPN’s established programs. For a real blast from the past, here is their list of inaugural shows -

7th Heaven (WB)

Beauty and the Geek (WB)

Gilmore Girls (WB)

One Tree Hill (WB)

Reba (WB)

Smallville (WB)

Supernatural (WB)

America's Next Top Model (UPN)

Veronica Mars (UPN)

Everybody Hates Chris (UPN

Girlfriends (UPN)

All of Us (UPN)

WWE SmackDown! (UPN)

I think my favorite part of this list is that both Gilmore Girls AND Smallville were still on the air, arguably the origin stories for Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles respectively.

However, there’s evidence that Supernatural was in less danger of cancellation than you might think. In March, around about “Hellhouse” time, Supernatural gets moved from a Tuesday air date to a Thursday air date. If you follow American network TV at all, then you’ll know that Thursday is THE day. Historically, Networks believed this was the best day for programming. Advertisers paid extra for the combination of influencing your weekend plans and also influencing you before the weekend since you’re less likely to be watching TV and more likely to be spending money. Friends aired on Thursdays. Grey’s Anatomy is a Thursday show. Putting Supernatural on Thursday would indicate that the WB had some faith in it, although it’s possible they were simply removing something else that wasn’t working in that 9pm time slot.

Ratings aside, once we get to the finale Supernatural has a good thing going, and it seems critics agreed. I think the back half of season 1 is where the show really starts to shine and take on the semblance of what it will become. This is where you see it shift from Monster-of-the-Week, anthology-style, to episodes that focused more on character - what I like to call the Feelings Episodes. That’s not to say there won’t be a ton more Monster-of-the-Week episodes, just that those are the B-story line, less important than the Winchesters-Working-Through-Trauma A-story lines. There’s also a greater emphasis on the overarching mythos and story arc of the season in the back half. This is ultimately what carries Supernatural into season 2 and beyond. Everyone from critics to series creator Kripke agreed that the episodes that focused more on the relationships and the internal struggles of the Winchesters was what really captured audiences.

And all that gooey feelings stuff really comes to a head in the one-two punch that is “Salvation” and “Devil’s Trap”.

UGH. FEELINGS.

The day of reckoning is finally here - the Winchesters finally know who they’re after, where to go, and how to kill it. Thanks to Sam’s Oh yeah! He’s got ESP!, they know exactly who’s gonna get hit next. The search is finally over, the battle’s about to begin. But it’s not just the Quest that’s winding down, it’s a bunch of character arcs that are coming to light as well. In fact, the Quest really does get pushed aside in favor of big character moves.

John Winchester, hyperfixated on revenge for the past 20 years, is finally close to resolving his grief and guilt over Mary’s death and the way he raised his kids. He tells his sons “whatever it takes” and we know he means it. This plays out in his decision to split up the team, in his willingness to sacrifice his own life so his boys have the opportunity to kill the demon they’ve been hunting all season.

Who’s fault was THAT, you piece of shit.

Sam Winchester’s own feelings of guilt and grief are also on the cusp of absolution. We see just how similar Sam and John really are, specifically in their reactions to fridged girlfriends lost loves. For the first time this season, Sam follows John’s orders without question or complaint. He doesn’t hesitate to risk his own life to kill the demon, willing to literally walk into fire for a second shot at it. Sam’s here to do whatever it takes, and it’s only because of Dean that he doesn’t.

Dean, on the other hand, is finally struggling with following John’s orders. I love the scene where John yells specifically at Dean when he finds out about Sam’s visions (watch John’s eyeline, he is NOT looking at Sam on that line)

Exhibit A, because this show has turned me into a 19YO Stan again and I hate it.

and Dean yells back, pointing out that they were in much more dire straights than death omens and John never picked up the phone, not once, not even when Dean was dying.

It’s TRUE and he SHOULD SAY IT! And seriously, John, even MEG knows you don’t answer voicemails, that’s why she calls Sam.

More importantly, Dean is not willing to do whatever it takes if whatever it takes means losing what he already has. Dean, who was so gung ho about finding mom’s killer in the beginning of the season, understands better than ever what he stands to lose if he lets his family continue on this path. It’s a real reversal of his attitude from the beginning of the show, but the about-face has happened so gradually over the last 22 episodes that it doesn’t feel out of left field.

Because that’s what you get when you put Sam and Dean together on a cross-country road trip for nine months! The two grow and change just by proximity and the sheer number of hours they spend in the car together. Over the course of 22 episodes, Dean reminds Sam why they do what they do - saving lives - and Sam reminds Dean what and who they do it for - family, safe and sound and living their best life now. John’s got his own thing going on, so who even cares what his motivations are, I don’t, hurry up and get out of here, John, nobody likes you.

That being said, “Devil’s Trap” starts with a pretty ruthless Dean performing an exorcism on Meg. He’s not dicking around this episode, and based on the fight he has with Sam in “Salvation”, it makes sense. Dean won’t do whatever it takes just for vengeance, but he will do whatever it takes to save someone, especially if those lives are his brother and his father. You could even extend that motivation into his decision to exorcise the demon and essentially kill Meg Masters - she may be dying, but she’s been saved from being a human meat puppet and unwilling participant to any number of evil things.

In other news, Bobby Singer is a National Treasure and the Best Part of this Episode and Maybe All Episodes. He doesn’t have a lot going on in this episode, he’s just amazing and I love him forever.

I had to pull a still from the episode because lookit this glorious mullet that he loses immediately, thank GOODNESS!

After getting a reality check from Dean in “Salvation,” Sam’s still struggling to figure out where he is on this spectrum, and you get to watch him make that decision in real time. He has the choice to be like John, to do whatever it takes to kill the demon, even though that means killing his own father. And he does not hesitate to aim when John tells him to shoot to kill, and that says a LOT.

But it’s Dean who convinces Sam not to lose himself in this fight, even when he’s so close to winning it. It’s Dean’s tiny little “Sam, no!” that makes Sam put the gun down, and that ALSO says a LOT.

It also hits me right in my heart meats, just OOF.

And THEN, just when you think the Winchesters are at their lowest, beat to shit and barely holding on, THEN the show delivers its final blow: they crash a semi into the Impala.

Listen, I watch a lot of garbage, and I watch that garbage on purpose. Sometimes, that’s just what you want. I don’t rate movies and tv shows on a good to bad scale anymore because some bad movies are GREAT and some good movies are just really terrible and I don’t like watching them. I’ve started talking about movies and tv in terms of whether or not I enjoyed them. Does it spark joy? Will it spark joy in others?

My legitimate reaction to anything that looks like a dumpster fire.

I enjoy Supernatural. A LOT. And maybe it’s just because my calibration settings are off, but I’d also argue that this season is good. As in, it’s well-crafted, satisfying and (mostly) logical storytelling. Is it perfect? No. It’s a show that aired on the WB in 2005. And when I watched this for the first time in 2008, I didn’t dig too deep into character arcs or story structure, I just liked watching two hot guys fight ghosts and sometimes cry a little. Twelve years later, watching it with a more experienced eye and a more refined palette - er, well, maybe just more educated palette - I can see the skill that went into crafting this 22-episode long story.

Well, skill and and a little bit of sheer dumb luck. Cuz remember when I said that Kripke and Co. figured out that the Feelings Episodes ended up doing better than the Monster-of-the-Week episodes? That wasn’t until after they realized what a gift they’d been given in their two leads. It was the chemistry between Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki that both sold the show at the outset and built the foundation for seasons to come. Viewers cared about the show because they cared about the characters. They wanted to see these two beautiful dumpster fires struggle and overcome their internal battles way more than their external ones. If you need proof - I did not once talk about the Yellow-Eyed-Demon motives or plans from this episode. I barely even mention the quest, unless it’s in relation to how the characters are handling it, emotionally, and how that’s impacting others around them. When you come down to it, Supernatural is a show about a family struggling to survive just as much as it is about two guys saving the world, and that’s something that any audience can relate to. I’m never gonna perform an exorcism or face down angels and demons to stop the apocalypse. But I am gonna struggle with insecurity and doubt, grief and anger and family drama. That’s the human element. That’s what connects you to these characters. And when you’re lucky enough to have two lead actors that really sell the hell out of the family dynamics, you're setting up for some serious television gold.

Fifteen years after this season aired, both of these elements - the story-crafting AND the luck - are more important than ever. No matter what show you’re watching, when you get to a season finale, that finale needs to feel like a set of dominos tipping over. It needs to feel like you’ve set up for that final confrontation both externally (the quest arc) and internally (the character arc). It needs to feel satisfying and motivated when those dominos finally fall. Most importantly, you need to make sure your audience cares about why they’re falling in the first place. Who cares about anybody’s arc if you haven’t built that character connection with your audience in the first place?

For a TV show looking ahead to season two, all that resolution also needs to ask more questions. It needs to propel us through one conflict and into another. That’s what the finale of this season does. It threads the needle into that sweet spot between conclusion and new beginning. Will our heroes live or die? Will the yellow-eyed demon be defeated? What’s next? And on this side of 2020, how did they keep that momentum going for more than a decade?

I can’t think of any current show right now that I would follow for 15 years. Hell, I didn’t even follow this show for 15 years. But the longevity of Supernatural means that they’ll be the template for any show looking to last even half as long as they did. And no matter how you feel about this show, you’ve gotta admit that’s heckin’ WILD.

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spinel-imagines-love · 5 years ago

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HO BOY do I have some angst/comfort for YOU! Can I request hc's about Spinel believing her gem s/o had been shattered, only for them to return to her a few weeks later, reformed in a new outfit but otherwise completely okay? Thank you and good luck with your requests!!!

Shattered S/O headcanons

At first she didnt want to believe it. Just when things started to finally look a little brighter for her, you, her beloved sweetheart angelic darling are shattered right in front of her eyes by a mere freak accident “Y-Y/n? A...Are you...h-hey...s-say something...”

An accident that could have easily been avoided if it would’t have been for Spinels own wish to impress you with a very risque stunt that ended in the shattering of her beloved S/O

She is...in shock. For a long moment she can only stare at the spot where she previously stood at, balancing multiple heavy objects, a few of which were remnants of the injector. “Heh, listen if ya’ think this human ta be strong, lemme’ impress ya’ once in a while to make sure ya’ don’t run of with some human whacko’~”

She...just wanted to show you that she was strong, that she wasn’t a naive bouncy gem anymore. Yet she was still childish, childish enough to not listen to your plea to be careful

One wrong move and she felt time slow as you pushed her away. Spinel whirling around just in time to see the heavy piece land and several shards of your gem scattering along the ground

It wasn’t until Steven came to check on the ruckus, that she moved from her frozen shock. Screaming and whailing loudly in emotional heart.

Even being abandoned for 6000 years didn’t hurt this much, she held your shards, crying out your name over and over again. Praying for Steven to fix you, to heal you

With little that she could do, she was left no choice but to accept that you are gone. Though never did she let your shards go, she held them close to herself at any given time. Isolating herself, lest she did some stunt like that again again and caused another gem to shatter

Her emotional hurt never truly vanished, which is why, she didn’t believ it was really you when Steven eagerly so brough your reformed self to her

She thought you were just some other version of you, an illusion even! Though when you gently cradled her cheek in your hands she cracked and begins to cry all over again “Y-Y/n! I-It is you...It’s really you...Oh goodness...O-Oh thank goodness...”

Spinel apologizes over and over again to have shattered you, only to be corrected by you. She didn’t shatter you, she shattered some fake gem that was apart of your attire.

Nevertheless Spinel couldn’t hide the guilt and utter relief upon seeing you alive and by her side again

Let it be said, she will carry you around on a pillow all day so nothing can even touch you. She will be utmost careful with you for at least a week at the very least. “Nu-Uh! Ya’ almost shattered on me once...I...I can’t handle seeing you even...crack a little. N-No you’re staying on that pillow!”

#Love ya toots❤️Spinel Imagines #spinel x reader #spinel x oc #spinel self insert #spinel imagines #spinel #steven universe spinel #su spinel

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triptychexe · 5 years ago

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TITLE: Your Name SUMMARY: Zim finds herself in the toilet bowl of a party. She’s rescued by one of her favorite celebrities.

GENRE: Drama PAIRING: platonic! zim x jessi WORD COUNT: 0.9k WARNINGS: Mentions of throwing up, over-consumption of alcohol, and calorie counting. Maybe some swearing as well. If I forgot something, please let me know!!!

FALL 2015

The sting of bile in her throat made Eunha’s eyes water. She braced herself for another wave of vomit, gripping the edge of the toilet bowl until her knuckles were white. She lost track of how long she’s been puking, but it’s felt like hours. No one came with her into the bathroom, and that fact alone made her want to cry all over again. She’s never felt so alone and pathetic as she did right now. What was she thinking, drinking that much? The exhaustion from the alcohol and the constant vomiting was catching up to her. Eunha, being too drunk to care about hygiene, rested her head on the edge of the toilet bowl and felt her eyes grow heavier and heavier.

“Hey! Hey, you can’t sleep here.” A hand shook Eunha’s shoulder. In her intoxicated state, Eunha felt like she was being sloshed around in a washing machine. Her head spun and her vision swam as Eunha opened her eyes a little bit, trying to see who was hovering above her. All she could make out was a silhouette of a woman. “Huh?” Zim mumbled in confusion. “People are waiting in line for the bathroom. C’mon, sweetheart, let’s go get some air.” The voice consoled. Drunkenly, Zim nodded her head and started to raise herself to her feet. The kind stranger wrapped an arm around Zim’s waist to support her, heaving her out of the bathroom and back into the party. Blurred visions of the party around them danced in front of Eunha’s vision as she allowed the stranger to lead her out onto the back balcony. The cool air made Eunha feel a little less nauseous. “Here, let’s sit you down.” The woman suggested. Eunha blinked a few times, trying to focus on her face properly. Something about the woman was so familiar...

“Wait… are you Jessi?” Eunha asked, her eyes wide. The soloist gave a small smile. “You’re Zim, right? From that new rookie group?” Zim looked at Jessi with wide eyes, nodding her head. She would have spoken, but the fact that Jessi knew her name was overwhelming. If she opened her mouth again, she was afraid more vomit would come out. “Yeah, I thought I recognized you.” Jessi sat next to Eunha, wrapping her arms over her knees. “What the hell are you doing here?” Eunha looked across the horizon, just able to make out the point where the city met the sky.

“Being an idol is harder than I thought. Just needed some fun.” Eunha shrugged, a little bashfully. “Did you come here alone?” Jessi asked, concern lacing every word. “Yeah. It’s not my friend’s scene.” “Shouldn’t be yours either.” Jessi shook her head. “Not to scare you, but you’re lucky I found you and not some pervert. You gotta be careful, even at a party like this.”

Eunha bowed her head. She’s heard that warning so many times from teachers and parents that they grew to be just that. A warning. Nothing serious, nothing real. Now she realized that the only thing separating her from being a statistic was Jessica Ho.

“You don’t party much, do you?” The soloist wondered aloud, holding Eunha under an analyzing gaze. “During my trainee days I would drink sometimes, but not a whole lot… Calories, you know?” Eunha chuckled, a slightly sad undertone slipping into her drunken words. Jessi seemed to understand, nodding her head and humming in sad agreement. “Are you okay? Like, I know we just met, but you seem to be going through some shit.” Jessi queried, leaning back on her palms. Eunha hesitated. Even though she was beyond drunk, she still wasn’t sure if Jessi would appreciate the emotional dump she was about to release. She licked her lips, trying to plan out her words before speaking. “Can I tell you something?” Eunha asked, hoping this would preface whatever was going to come out of her mouth next. “Of course.” Jessi nodded.

Eunha let a small smile tug at her lips. “I’m already so fed up with people. I really am. Strangers talk about me online all the time. They talk about my body. My hair. My attitude. I hate it. I hate it so much. I’ve only been an idol for a month, but look at me.” Eunha extended her hands. “I’m drunk as fuck in who knows who’s house-” “It’s Got7’s dorm.” Jessi informed. “What?” Eunha blinked. “Got7. That JYP boy group-” “No, I know who they are, but I didn’t think they actually like….” Eunha looked back over her shoulder at the party raging on behind her. “They really pull these kinda parties? They legit live like this? That wasn’t just a meme on the internet?” Jessi gave a shrug, nodding her head. “I mean, it’s super rare. JYP would beat their asses if they were acting like this all the time. I honestly don’t know how you got in, there was only supposed to be a few of us here.” “Damn.” Eunha sighed in amazement. “I feel like I’ve crossed over into an alternate universe.” “Someone’s been on Wattpad.” Jessi smirked, poking fun at Eunha. “Hey, lemme have this.” Eunha chuckled. “I just wanna live like Your Name for a minute.” That joke had Jessi cackling and clapping her hands together. “Damn, you crack me up.” Jessi complimented. Maybe it was the alcohol, but Zim suddenly felt a wave of confidence flow through her. “We should hang out when I’m not totally drunk. I promise I’m still funny.” “I don’t doubt that.” Jessi smiled.

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jejesart · 5 years ago

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Hi, I’m a new follower and I love your art. Could you say who your favourite Fire Emblem pairings are, plus any other pairings from other series?

awwww thank you!!!!! ho boy this is gonna be LONG ill put it under read more you better be prepared HAHA

ok so for fire emblem first!!!!! i’ll go per series (the ones ive played) to limit them lmao and also because im gonna ramble (im sorry i dont even know if you play all of them but im feeling talkative today just ignore the ones you dont know lol)

fe sov: berkut/rinea. the way he loves her…. and wants her to smile…….. and shes happy simply just being with him………. at least im thankful for feh since theyre together happily there. watch me as i +10 rinea!!!!

fe4 holy war: finn/lachesis. ok i only play fe4 halfway the first gen so i cant say much but i read the manga and it makes me ship finnchesis so much!!! he fills the hole left by eldigans death in her heart…….. and she enjoys his company so much he becomes someone very important to her i love slow-building love

fe6: roy/lilina. i havent finished this im stuck at one chapter and i dont feel playing it lmao but im weak for childhood friends!!!

fe7: imma cheat on this one THE FIRST ONE IS ELIWOOD/NINIAN THEY HAVE MY HEART AND SOUL. hes super gentle to her and theyre completely lovestruck with each other throughout the game i just…… cannot not ship them………….. the second one is kent/lyn because liege/knight pairing is my other weakness lmao. and their support!!!! lyn wants to be more than just his lady ugh their a support is so good

fe8: joshua/natasha. not much to elaborate here really but its love at first sight for him you cant change my mind

fea: HENRY/OLIVIA IS JUST. SO. GOOD. he shows his real emotions because of her!!!! without realising he falls so hard for her!!!! ALSO INIGO BEING HENRYS SON FITS SO MUCH not to mention hes the only one who looks good with white hair among the fea kids lol

fef: m!corrin/azura, since they share somewhat same backstories i think they find consoles in each other’s company. also idk if you play feh but theres this one version of corrin that shows up in young azura’s dream world, and his dialogues are very azura-centered, much more than his female counterpart, and they all say he just wants her to be happy im crying (esp remembering her fate in birthright and conquest :v)

fe3h: felix/annete theyre just!!! so cute!!!! felix cant stop thinking of her???? and super soft to her unlike to the others????? she unknowingly makes her way into his heart ughhhh. i also like cyril/lysithea a lot, i really cant choose between them.

feh: not a main game but alfonse has all my uwus so i have to say this…… i love alfonse/summoner!!!! alfonse refusing to get close to any hero but ending up getting super close to the summoner……… he trusts them so much!!!! seriously like 80% of alfonses dialogues are related to the summoner and lemme tell you i squeal every time he talks about them lol

moving on for other series i’ll do another list for the series that are on top of my mind!!!

kny: (you must have seen this coming) GIYUU/SHINOBU OH MY GOD I LOVE THEM SO MUCH I JUST WANT THEM TO BE HAPPY. for shinobu, since she always dons kanae’s smiling mask, i think shinobu finds comfort in teasing giyuu since she can be a little bit like herself when doing that, like a small breather. for giyuu, since he isnt close with other pillars, i think he appreciates shinobu’s company, even though she keeps teasing him. THEY ALSO HAVE PARALLELS they lose their sisters and they hate their own circumstances (giyuu with him passing the final selection without doing anything and shinobu with her physique). and his shocked face when she [redacted]????? man i will forever be sad about that. and a side note i like tanjirou/kanao a lot! kanao defends aoi and the girls because she remembers tanjirous words. she legit cries because shes relieved tanjirou is alive. she even raises her voice to keep others quiet because she worries about him. tanjirou is a changing force in her life!!!!

gbf: gran/lyria. their lives are intertwined………… they literally cant live without each other………. and gran is so protective to lyria ugh i love that!!!! ALSO THE ANIME!!!!!!!! theres one original story episode about lyria almost dies because she hates her existence so much she wants to disappear but gran brings her back……………. not by his own actually but like he promises to always be there for her or something like that theyre just so cute. additionally i love lucio/djeeta a lot because lucio is sexy af HAHAHA BUT!!! you also have to look at this before you judge me

fairy tail: natsu/lucy. theyre my comfort otp i think??? like i still lurk in their tags and search for their fanfics til now. i also sometimes reread their moments in manga because i love them that much. SHES HIS HOME GDI and natsu legit doesnt join a fight because hes super worried about lucy after her fathers death oh my god. my favourite moment is when natsu uses lucy fire its just so funny but describes their relationship so well!!!

ok i better stop here or else the post will never end HAHAHAHA its so long already im sorry if you read all of that

#saiyef #jeje replies #man its long af lmao #i just love to talk lol #thanks for the ask!!!#for gbf i like sandalphon/djeeta more actually since their relationship development is so good #but lucio........ sakurai-san............#this is all his fault

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theabominableblogger · 5 years ago

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My Reaction to “Birds of Prey“

*in best Roman Sionis impression* WHOOO!

Figured I might as well FINALLY watch it. On with the show!

*silently jams to the opening logos*

This animated intro is great.

*snorts at the little animation of how an egg gets fertilized*

Why is this animated Joker a different (and actually better) character design than what we got in Suicide Squad? Were we robbed of Letoker in full Joker suited glory? I think we were.

“Behind every successful man is a badass broad.” *points at screen in agreement*

I love Harley’s freaking rainbow apartment

The hyena!

This movie has the same amount of color saturation as “Pulp Fiction”

Freaking Bernie the Beaver is holding her tissues! We stan supportive friends!

*gasp* Cass!

This guy [Roman’s driver] looks an awful lot like Jon Hamm and that is never gonna go away

“It’s not a party without a little drama!” I love Ewan McGregor

*snorts in hilarity when Harley turns to address the audience about how much she doesn’t like Roman in front of Roman*

“Do give the Joker my [Roman] best.” Uhhh....

*jams the crap out to “Boss Bitch” by Doja Cat*

*laughs at Harley drunkenly giving relationship advice to a female bust in the club*

“Some people have the Eiffel Tower. Or Olive Garden.” Can we please hear the stories about Gotham’s Olive Garden?

Oh that shot [of Harley walking away from the Ace Chemicals explosion] is great

[Four Minutes Ago] *snorts in hilarity*

So far I actually really like Rosie Perez as Montoya.

Huntress!

*Huntress kills the mob people in the flashback* That was awesome. And the way Montoya steps back and forth to investigate the body is great.

“Harley Quinn just called open season on herself.” And oop.

God, seeing Ewan as Black Mask is really gonna throw me off but man this is gonna be a great performance.

*jaw drops in horror when Zsasz removes someone’s FACE*

JESUS CHRIST HOLY SHIT RATED “R” HUH?!?

“Is that a snot bubble?” Shit!

OHHHHH THAT SHOT OF ROMAN WITH THE MASK ON!!! AAAAAAHHHH!!

The SATURATION IN THIS MOVIE

Also the soundtrack and aesthetic in this movie is very... “Suicide Squad”-esque

Man that sandwich looks good

*jaw drops when Harley accidentally throws her sandwich into the road*

Also they de-saturated everything again hahaha

Oh my gosh that guy [”Happy”] is HUGE

[GRIEVANCE: COSMETIC VANDALISM] Yeah, that sounds about right

“Par-ley??” *snorts*

Her [Montoya’s] shirt....

Also why is she wearing that shirt at work?

This movie is giving me huge Tarantino vibes

Why does the actor that plays Montoya’s boss looks familiar?

Oh! He’s Rufus in “Supernatural.” Bobby’s kinda buddy!

“Ms. Montoya, we do have a dress code.” There we go.

They are really just going back and forth in the timeline to cover everything, aren’t they?

Harley’s using nonlethal rounds?

The action set pieces in this movie so far are awesome.

*says “Run, piggy, run!” along with Harley*

Of course Dinah is singing “This Is A Man’s World”

Also I’ve seen like a 20 second Twitter compilation of Roman saying the f-bomb and it’s glorious

“We could make our own family.” Oh snap.

WAIT THAT’S THE GUY WHOSE FACE ZSASZ REMOVED!

Does... Roman... like Dinah? Like... that? Or is this manipulation?

*chuckles when drunk Harley slides up next to Dinah at the bar*

*gets very uncomfortable at a guy trying to take advantage of a drunk Harley*

C’mon Dinah...

What’s the song playing here [when Dinah’s beating up the guys in the alley]?

Uh whatcha doing in the corner there, Zsasz?

“Oh sooongbirrddd?” Noo...

Did I just see a street sign that said “ANUS”?

So is Cass faking a broken wrist or does she actually have a broken wrist?

So far my favorite characters are Montoya and Dinah. Not gonna lie.

*has to muffle laughter when Roman does the mmkay hand sign*

“I mean, I like crossbows!” *giggles*

Holy shit, Zsasz is jealous of Dinah.

“Look at his little ears, the little haircut...” *insane giggling*

ZSASZ IS DYING IN THE BACK I LOVE THIS SONG

Dinah is clearly rethinking some life decisions while looking at that statue of Roman

*jams out to “Sway with Me” by GALAXRA*

*Cass robs Zsasz of the diamond* WHOOP!

*winces when Roman does acupuncture*

“SHE’s a chILDDD!!” *laughs*

ZSASZ

Ho shit that shot of Roman on top of the stairs looking down at Harley

“VOTED FOR BERNIE” HAHAHA

*Harley completely derails Roman’s villain monologue* THIS IS AMAZING

HE [Roman] GOT A BOWL OF POPCORN

*Zsasz licks Harley’s cheek* EEUUUGGGHHH!!

Did that goon just pull a tampon out of Harley’s pocket?

I’M SORRY CAN WE TALK ABOUT THE PICTURE OF NUDE ELEANOR ROOSEVELT?

*gasps when Roman backhands Harley across the face*

OH HERE WE GO

HOLY SHIT THIS IS GREAT

ROMAN IN THE STRIPED SUIT

THE CHOREOGRAPHY

WHY WAS IT SO SHORT I LOVED IT

Where is this cover at on the official soundtrack?!?

“I’ll give you ‘til midnight.” Hold on, hold on, what’s the timeline for this movie?

Harley’s just booking it in the background

Aaaand we’re back at the beginning!

Aaand there’s Harley!

Wait there’s about an hour left and we just now got to Harley meeting Cass?

CONFETTIIIII!!

Is she just using paint bombs on all the guards?

Harley, trying to enter the cells: I AM PRESSING. EVERY BUTTON. I CAN FIND.

Why would they put Cass in the cell block with all the adults?

OH HALSEY! COME THROUGH!

*Harley slides across the floor to knock a guy down* OHHHH!!!

Daniel Pemberton’s orchestral score for this movie is reminding me an awful lot of “Into the Spiderverse”

Is that Katana’s sword?!? How the hell did it get there?!?

WAIT SHE’S GONNA HUFF THE COCAINE?!?

Jesus, now THIS is Harley’s fighting style! Holy crap!

*gasps when Harley gets kicked back and knocks off a car door off its hinges*

*jaw drops* SHE JUST SET THAT DUDE’S BEARD ON FIRE

How does everyone seem to know where Harley is?

*Smash cut to Harley buying laxative for Dinah in the store* Hahahahahaha!

“I do not care that you’re [Cass] a kid.” Yeah, Harley, didn’t you uh... assist in the murder of Jason Todd in this universe? Hmmm???

Wait so how long ago have Harley and the Joker been together?

Doc calls Harley “lotus flower”!

Those are the nuns from the school in the beginning!

She is actually... talking to the beaver

“[Joker] Sounds like a dick.” I mean, yeah.

Also I just realized that Harley drew an actual dick in the Joker drawing’s mouth

HUNTRESS!

OH NOW WE’RE GETTING INTRODUCED TO HELENA!

*eyes widen in shock at the Bertenelli massacre*

*chuckles at the smash cut to Helena practicing in the mirror*

*Roman sees someone laughing in the club* Oh no.

“Get on the table.” Uh.

Oh no what is he doing?

“DANCE, ERICA!” Ohh. Shit.

“Take your dress off.” *jaw drops in horror*

God, I cannot watch this. Holy-

*has to avert eyes*

*Roman stops Dinah from leaving* NO.

“You soothe me, little bird.” AHHHHHHHHHHHHH-

OK, I can take a breather now. Ohhhh my God...

They’re [Harley and Cass] really just having a girl’s night

BRUCE, NOOOOO!!!

“No one knew we were here except-” DOC SOLD THEM OUT!

“This next bit ain’t very pretty.” Oh boy.

“I [Roman] own this town. You have my protection.” Mmmmm... no?

Whoa this super dramatic cover of “Hit Me with Your Best Shot”

OH HE’S [Zsasz] GONNA SEE THE TEXT SHE [Dinah] SENT [to Montoya]!

*Roman starts to break down* Oh. Shit.

OH THIS MUSIC

*Roman puts the mask on* OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

OH THIS IS GREAT

Also of course Joker and Harley had a hideout in Amusement Mile

*winces when Montoya punches Harley right in the boob*

*Harley kicks Montoya out the window* Oh she dead

*gasps* Zsasz!

Man that sideways shot of him is terrifying!

OH FRICK NO

JESUS I DON’T LIKE THIS

So is it implied that Zsasz only kills women or what? I thought he was an equal opportunity killer?

“That’s why he [Roman] needs me [Zsasz] to look after him.” Dude.

...did they just kill Zsasz?

Everyone except Harley is pointing guns at each other and all I’m thinking of is that scene from “The Office”

*snorts in hilarity for Harley clapping for Helena completing her kill list*

Oh Roman just brought a whole freaking army

OHHHH HE’S GOT THE MASK

Oh this music *chef’s kiss*

Oh my God is Roman gonna find Zsasz’s body?

Oh that crane shot out of the lair and back outside? That’s some good shit. Cathy Yan, I see you.

“I [Helena] DON’T HAVE RAGE ISSUES!” DINAH’S FACE!

*Helena pounces on a goon in the slide down and kills him* Geez that’s awesome

This whole set is great

*Helena gives Cass her old toy truck* THIS MAKES ME SAD

Yeah when did Harley have time to put on her skates?

Some dude just gets shanked then leaps back up

That fight scene just went by real quick

*gasps when Roman shoots Montoya*

*jaw drops when Dinah does the Canary Cry*

*Harley gets sideswiped by one of Roman’s goons* Yeah no there’s like half a rib cage gone

*Harley works on overtaking one of Roman’s goons’ car* CRAZY TOWN BEEP BEEP!

*Harley backflips onto the top of Roman’s car* OHHHH!

Founders Pier... geez that looks great

Wait are those all Roman’s goons just lining the dock or are those just statues?

Oh they’re all statues. That’s creepy.

“exCUUSEE me?!?” *snorts in hilarity*

*jaw drops when Cass tucks a grenade in Roman’s coat and activates it*

*still shocked when he FREAKING EXPLODES*

I’M SORRY THEY JUST KILLED OFF BLACK MASK

*Cass finally goes to the bathroom* Finally!

“Does she always [Montoya] talk like the cop in a bad 80s movie?” *laughs*

Guys Helena is great

*laughs when Helena laughs at the fact that Harley stole Dinah’s car*

“They call themselves the Birds of Prey.” Yay! Lemme see them again!

Harley’s jacket has a bedazzled vagina on the back of it

Look at Cass with her jacket and sunglasses!

“Yeah, I made the kid my apprentice.” Yeah, that’s not gonna last long.

#the blogger reacts #dceu #birds of prey #harley quinn #ewan mcgregor #black mask #roman sionis #dinah lance #black canary #huntress #helena bertinelli #cassandra cain #renee montoya #victor zsasz #joker #daniel pemberton #bop #rosie perez

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scaryscarecrows · 6 years ago

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Who Protects the Protector?

Cherry can smell a rookie a mile away. Their sense of self-importance, of, ‘I’ll be the one to bring law and order to Gotham!’ is practically a cheap cologne.

This one is no exception. And he’s not local, she can tell. It’s the swagger. Newbies put it on to try and seem bigger, not worth the trouble of an attempted mugging. (They’re always worth the trouble of an attempted mugging. Every damn time.)

She and Mia are standing on the corner, debating on whether or not to go for Korean or Greek. Korean’s closer, but they had that last time. And then their quiet conversation is interrupted by this asshole with his aviators sticking out of his pocket and his hat painstakingly adjusted to look cocky-but-not-too-cocky. No playful flirting, then. He’ll take it seriously and haul them to the station, like a dick.

“Officer.”

“Ladies.” He glances at her boobs. They’re nice boobs. It took her twenty minutes to get them into position earlier. “I’m looking for someone.”

“Uh-huh.” She gives him that special judgmental look she reserves for dummies, just so he doesn’t go thinking he can manhandle the merch without paying. “Watcha want, hon.”

He looks a little taken aback, but he recovers fast enough and says, all gung-ho, “The Red Hood.”

One, either his superiors hate him or he’s just that stupid. Two, fuck this guy. Red got himself stabbed last week chasing after a serial killer that’s been running wild for a month. He got the guy, but still.

“Why?” She twists over and he steps back juuuust fast enough to look nervous. He should be. The girls working the other side of town carry tasers. Painful, but not as painful as the switchblades they carry down here. You won’t lose treasured pieces of anatomy to a taser. “Are you going to send reliable officers to patrol down here after you arrest him?”

“I—”

They never do. They don’t come for hostage situations, homicides, none of it. Batman does, sometimes, but half the time he’s busy with the Freak of the Week. He’s not around, not really. Red’s always here, if you look hard enough, if you really need him.

If you scream loud enough, he’ll come.

“You’re just pissy that someone had to take over your damn job,” she snaps. “And that you and your buddies ain’t gettin’ to skim a little off the top anymore.”

“Look, lady, he’s wanted in connection to several murders—”

“So was the guy in two-fourteen Palm Plaza.” She points at the apartment building in question. “People called and called and called about that one, sugar-lamb, and nobody came. Tell him, Mia.”

“Yeah, officer.” Mia bats her lashes at him, but she may as well be trying to kill the guy with her eyes. “He was gonna cut me up in his bathtub, ‘til he got yanked out the window.”

“That’s not—”

“I would have been number four.”

“I’m only asking nicely one more time—”

“Number. Four.” There’s an awkward silence. “Not that you care.”

“I--”

“Go fuck yourself,” Cherry says, grabbing Mia’s elbow in one hand and preparing to draw her switchblade with the other. “We don’t know shit, ‘cept for that the boys in blue don’t give a rat’s ass about coming down here. And if you harass me again, I’ll be making a report.”

“This isn’t harassment, lady, but it’s about to be—”

That’s it. That is it.

She drops Mia’s elbow, turns around, and invades the guy’s space boobs-first. He steps back and ends up with his back against the crosswalk button.

“Red’s done more for us in eight months than you jackasses have managed in decades,” she snarls. “And now that you can stick a toe out of your car without being chopped up and sent back to the station in a box, you want to haul him in and take all the credit. Lemme tell you something, kid, I’ve had to pay for the privilege of keeping my teeth with my body until very recently. Filing a report won’t get me anything, and we both know it. So get back in your car, drive away, and don’t come back.”

He stutters and reddens and for a minute, she thinks he might hit her. But he doesn’t, just squeezes out from between her and the button, and walks away. She turns back to Mia once she’s sure he’s gone and says, “Greek?”

* * *

Abdoul prides himself on his poker face. He’s lived here his whole life, and it’s a valuable life skill.

He’s faced down mobsters before. He knows the type. They come rolling into his coffee shop like they own the place, terrorizing the other customers and making a mess. But these ones are looking for the man currently bleeding out on the floor behind the counter.

Abdoul’s not even sure Red’s conscious. He’d staggered in under his own power, blood leaking through his fingers, and they’d run to help him back here. And then he’d gone down with a low groan and hadn’t moved again, even when Lina pressed a handful of kitchen towels against the wound near his hip. Not two minutes later, these monkeys had stormed the place, screamed for everybody to stay where they were, and started demanding information.

“I’m tellin’ ya, old man, he came in here.”

“I’m sorry. I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

The police aren’t coming. The panic button under the counter has been here for years, and it hasn’t worked yet. The shotgun under the counter, on the other hand, works just fine. And if these idiots don’t turn around and walk away, he’s going to pull it out.

“Listen, old-timer—”

It takes everything he’s got not to look down when Lina tugs at a towel that’s caught under his shoe. He does shift his weight though, just a bit. Enough for her to pull it free.

“Get out of my establishment.” He narrows his eyes at the gun pointed at him. “You are mistaken. If you lost an injured man, that’s on you for being too slow and too stupid to keep up. Try the roof, he might have gone up there.”

“There’s no blood, boss,” one of them, nearer to the door, whispers. Damn straight. One of his regulars, Dexter Murphy, a nurse practitioner, had accidentally knocked over the mop bucket Lina had been using when the men had started shouting. Any blood on the tile has long been hit with the small flood of soapy water.

The leader moves his head side to side, like a hunting dog, and finally sighs.

“If I find out you were lyin’ to me, I’ll be back.”

“Maybe you’ll buy something next time.”

The man snarls but stalks out, barking orders to the others. Once they’re gone, Abdoul sighs and crouches down to see what he can do. Red, as it turns out, is conscious; his head lolls towards them and he says, voice weak despite the modulator his helmet must have, “C’n I get whatever th’ pastry of th’ day is?”

“Red,” Abdoul says gently, “you come back in here when you’re not bleeding, and you can have whatever you want.”

“Lemme see.” Dexter’s suddenly there, too, batting Lina’s hands away. “Okay, Red…yeah, that’s not really that bad, man, just stay still for me, okay? Okay…”

* * *

Whoever this new guy is, he’s good.

And by good, Alex means they’re fucked. Okay, so she maybe should have waited for backup before climbing in the window. There was a little boy up there, man, she had to try and get him. So that’s on her. But it takes skill to catch a Bat, and smarts to keep one from breaking out and ruining your life.

But this guy, whoever he is, has done it. Her hands are cuffed (her own cuffs!), the little boy is literally like seven, and the Red Hood is…

He’s…

They’ve been calling this guy the Butterfly Collector. And right now, he’s living up to his name; Hood’s been attached the floor courtesy of what looks like a giant railroad spike through his torso. Probably custom, like the others have been. He’s still alive, still conscious, even, but every too-deep breath makes him whimper and he’s clearly trying desperately not to move so much as an inch.

“Hey.” The helmet turns carefully towards her. “You. Okay?”

She said it when she came here and she says it now; vigilantes are a special sort of stupid. She makes her way to him anyway, wishes the bastard would have at least cuffed her hands in front of her, and says, “Yeah. Backup’ll be here soon.”

“Mm. F’you s-s-s-seeeeeee.” He gulps hard like he’s swallowing something. Blood, maybe. “A chance ta get Tommy outta here. Go.”

“You got it.”

“C’mere, kiddo.” The kid-Tommy-moves closer. He looks terrified and blotchy and puffy, like he’s been crying. She can’t blame him. He gets as close to Hood as he probably dares, though, and tilts his head. “This’s. Officer Clemmens.”

“Alex,” she supplies. The little boy glances at her but doesn’t say anything.

“She’s gonna get you outta here, ‘kay?” Maybe. Hopefully. “T-Tommy’s. Mute. S-s-so—”

“Okay, Hood. Maybe shut up now, okay?”

“Mm…”

The door opens and she’s on her feet, shepherding Tommy as far away from the Butterfly Collector as possible. The man doesn’t even look at them. He’s looking at Hood, who’s still trying to regulate his breathing and to stay still.

“How long does it take you to die?” He stalks forward and drops down, hands pressing Hood’s shoulders down until he yelps. “You’ve been—”

It may not be fighting fair, but neither is cuffing a girl’s hands behind her back, and Mama didn’t raise no weak bitch. Alex takes her shot and brings her foot up between the bastard’s legs, straight into his balls. The noise he makes would be funny…okay, yeah, it’s kinda funny. Petty vengeance and all.

It’s not funny when he gets up, still sort of hunched over. She kicks him again, this time in the stomach, and he staggers a few feet away.

“Get the hell out of here, asshole.”

He pulls a gun-her gun, that dick-and this is it, this is how she dies-

-where’d he go.

Seriously, where’d he go.

Tommy pulls on her pants and when she turns around, she recognizes the sign he makes. Every cop knows that sign, just like every cop knows pretty much every translation of the word it’s for.

Batman.

About time.

She shrieks when he’s suddenly behind her, unlocking the cuffs before teleporting to Hood’s side. There’s sirens a few blocks away.

Wait. They don’t get along, do they.

“I’ll kick you, too, if you try anything,” she warns. The Bat doesn’t even pretend to care. Hood makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

“Th-thought you’d. ‘Rest me.”

Just for that, she’s tempted.

“Shut up and don’t die, Hood.”

He doesn’t answer. She ushers Tommy away so he can’t see what Batman’s doing to him. And by the time backup arrives, they’re both gone. How? Who knows. But she worries, a little teeny tiny bit, that Hood’s dead. He doesn’t appear after that for a good month and a half.

Maybe it’s bad, but when a serial rapist turns up tied to a stoplight, intestines looped around the pole, she feels a little relief. Not a lot, because damn that’s brutal and really, really illegal, but a bit.

It’s Gotham, after all.

THE END

#Jason Todd #Red Hood #the Jason Todd Protection Squad: Gotham edition #Batman #the Crime Alley denizens will fight you #that's their local asshole get your own

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