#how did she get with JFK

[kavehater]

JUST LISTENED TO HOLLYWOODS DEAD AND ITS TALKING ABOUT MARYLYN MONROE AND I SUDDENLY REMEMBERED HOW MESSY AMERICA WAS AT THAT TIME the only time America isn’t insufferable CAUSE I WOULD GIVE UP SM TO EXPERIENCE THE PLOT TWISTS IRL LMAO

[starkwlkr]

american royalty | max verstappen

kennedy!reader

US GRAND PRIX (TIME SKIP)

Max was in panic mode. Little baby Luke did not want to leave his father’s side. Yeah, it was cute, but Max had to be in the car in five minutes.

“I don’t want to leave you either, baby, but papa has to go race.” Max whispered to the seven month old. It amazed y/n and Max how quickly Luke had grown.

Y/n wanted to burst into tears right then and there in Max’s driver’s room, but she held it in. She loved her boys so much.

“You should go, I don’t want you to be late.” Y/n told Max, which made him frown. “You’ll see us after.” She chuckled and grabbed Luke from Max’s arms. Instantly, the boy started to whine.

“It’s okay, Luke, papa is just going to win the race and then he’ll be back for more cuddles.” Max pressed a light kiss to his son’s head.

Y/n and Max kept your relationship very private so no one apart from their families knew about their relationship or baby Luke. When she did attend a race, she watched from Max’s driver’s room. Usually she was alone, but now she had Luke to keep her company. Before y/n could say something, Max turned to her.

“How much longer do you think you and Luke will be watching from here? Don’t get me wrong, I love you both for coming. I think it would be better if my family watches from the garage.” Max waited for you answer. He was sure y/n was going to be mad at him for even suggesting that idea, but she smiled at him.

“You read my mind.” She kissed his lips.

So without hesitation, Max grabbed her hand and together as a family, they walked in the direction of the Red Bull Garage.

When Max saw photographers start to notice y/n, he grabbed Luke from her and took off his Red Bull hat, using it to shield Luke from the cameras. They both agreed to keep their son away from the media. They quickly arrived to the garage just in time.

“Checo’s wife, Carola, is here. You can sit with her so you don’t have to be alone.” Max said as he led her through the garage. “And she has kids so that’s something you both have in common!” He tried to lighten up the mood.

“We’ll be okay, won’t we?” She tickled Luke’s side, which made the boy giggle.

“Max!” His race engineer, Gianpiero, called out. “Who’s this smiley boy?” He waved to Luke.

“My son, Luke, and this is my wife, Y/n.” Max introduced her to the British man. She didn’t correct Max on the term he used for her, it felt right coming from his mouth.

“Welcome to the Red Bull family!” He smiled at y/n.

After talking for a short time, Max had to leave so he gave y/n and Luke a kiss and a hug then left. She was introduced to Carola. It didn’t take long for the two women to get along.

Halfway through the race, the camera was focused on y/n for a few seconds. She was looking at a different monitor so she didn’t even realize she was on tv.

“And we have American royalty in the paddock today. There she is, Miss Y/n Kennedy, daughter to the late JFK Jr. and his wife Carolyn. Didn’t know she was a Red Bull fan.” Crofty said.

Immediately, Twitter was having a field day.

Y/n’s phone was flooded with notifications, but she ignored them. Baby Luke and Y/n were about to witness Max win.

As predicted, Max came in first with Checo taking second place. While Carola took her kids to watch their dad on the podium, Y/n stayed behind with Luke. As much as she wanted to watch Max, she didn’t want to expose Luke to everyone.

While the Red Bull team celebrated another win, y/n looked down at her son. “I think dad would’ve loved to be here, don’t you think?” Y/n asked. “Mom on the other hand . . . She would’ve loved Max that’s for sure.”

The topic of her parents made her emotional so she stopped talking. But it was definitely clear that y/n’s parents would’ve loved Max. Even if the media painted him out to be some kind of villain, Max Verstappen was far from it.

Max quickly made his way back to his family after the podium celebrations. He was eager to show his son his trophy, but before he could do that, he was stopped by Charles.

“You’re dating THE y/n kennedy?!”

“How do you even know?” Max wondered.

“Mate, you’re trending all over twitter. The cameras showed her, but what I want to know is why didn’t you tell me? I thought we agreed to tell each other everything!”

“You agreed, I didn’t.” Max corrected him.

“Still! You’re basically important in the eyes of america now. So if you get married, does that mean you’re automatically a US citizen and you can be president?” The Ferrari driver asked.

“I’m pretty sure in order to be president you have to be born in the US— why am I still talking to you? I have to go see my family.” Max said as he ran to the Red Bull garage.

“Congratulations, mr. president!”

Of course calling Max ‘mr. president’ became an inside joke in the paddock.

When Max made it back to the garage, he saw y/n talking with several drivers, one being the only American driver, Logan. At least they were keeping his family company.

“When Max is on break, he sleeps through the night, but he wakes up several times when his dad is gone. He’s such a daddy’s boy.” Y/n explained to Logan, Lando and Oscar.

“Of course he is, I’m the best dad in the world.” Max interrupted.

“Look at you, daddy Max.” Lando joked.

“Oh god, mate. Don’t ever say that again.” Oscar said.

“Anyways . . . How’d you like the race, y/n?” Logan asked the kennedy woman. He felt so at home at the moment. He was so honored to even be talking to someone related to the president of his country.

“It was amazing. Luke and I enjoyed every minute of it. Maybe we’ll just have to come back for another race.” Y/n looked at Max with hopeful eyes. Baby Luke cooed at his father.

“We are going to Mexico next and you love Mexico . . .”

“Great, we’ll be seeing the first family back in the paddock. It was great to meet you, y/n and you too baby Luke.” Lando smiled cheekily at the mom and son.

“You know Charles just called me Mr. President and now this? What else is going to happen?” Max laughed.

“Who knows, maybe you might end up being the president?”

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Seemed Fitting

Prompt Day 3: Jacket | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Established Relationship, Gift Giving

Standing in the men's store, Eddie realizes he's been overconfident. He has no idea what to get Steve that he'll actually like. If Steve wants something, he just buys it for himself, and that makes gift-giving tough.

There's a green sweater on the wall that he kind of likes. It's somewhat plain in a sea of hideously busy Cosby sweaters, but it might be too plain. A green sweater? Does that really scream that he tried his best?

Probably not.

Eddie feels out of place in this store. It's not his kind of establishment, that's for damn sure. The salesman is wearing a suit for god's sake. He should just get the green sweater and call it good. Steve will like it. 

Then, he overhears another shopper asking the salesclerk about the Harrington Jacket.

Like, Steve Harrington? Does Steve have a jacket named after him? Eddie, somehow, wouldn't even be surprised in this town.

Eddie turns his head, to see what the guy is pointing towards. 

It's just a jacket, on one of those headless mannequins. But the jacket itself isn't too different from the gray one Steve wore a lot in high school. 

Eddie steps closer, and looking at it, this one is actually more similar to the jackets Eddie's seen in imported music magazines.

"Oh, it's punk. Like, The Clash," Eddie says aloud, and the guy turns and gives him a dirty look. 

Well, fuck you too, dude.

He looks Eddie up and down, "It's not punk like you."

Eddie is not punk, but he'd definitely rather be called punk than whatever the fuck this dude is, so he lets it go.

He's learned to pick his battles. To bite his sharp tongue. He doesn't want to end up running for his fucking life again. Once was plenty.

But the guy is still talking.

"It's a classic. Steve McQueen. Elvis. Sinatra," the guy says snottily in his loafers, and looks a little disgusted by Eddie's mere presence. What else is fucking new? Especially in this town.

"JFK," the clerk chimes in.

"Yeah, JFK," the guy repeats.

Eddie says nothing. He's seen it worn in magazines with Doc Martens, and mohawks. 

But he listens to the salesman try to sell it to this idiot. The funnel neck. The rain-resistant cotton. How it's a classic wardrobe staple. How it never goes out of style. 

Eddie sees the jacket with the tartan plaid lining in a different way than these two are seeing it, that much is certain. He's seen this in Brit music mags, and he sees the possibility here. Steve could wear it both ways. 

Steve Harrington is punk, even if it's mainly on the inside. Steve Harrington is also preppy, and classically fucking gorgeous.

Then he hears the kind of steep price tag. He can swing it, will swing it, no matter what. It'll just cut a little more into his cash reserves than he'd expected. 

Steve's worth it.

The two idiots are still verbally jerking each other off in front of the mannequin, and Eddie steps away.

He looks at the rack of jackets in dark, muted colors, and really likes the red one. Steve has that red sweater he looks fucking fantastic in, so maybe a red jacket christened with his last name would look even half as good.

Eddie slides the hangers, and chooses Steve's size, trying it on himself to make sure, and then takes it to the register.

The girl behind the register smiles. She reminds Eddie of Chrissy, and he feels a pang of sorrow. Of guilt.

"Nice choice," she says, folding it nicely, "Was anyone helping you today?"

"Nope," Eddie says, "just you."

And he hopes she takes the commission for selling it.

"Would you like it gift wrapped? It's free," she offers and he nods, says thanks, and watches as she wraps it way better than he'd have ever been able to do at home.

The jacket is wrapped and under the tree, and Eddie is nervous. It looks great. The girl at the register did a really good job wrapping it, and treated him like he was welcome to be there, buying their clothing. She was nice to him, and he hates that that is something that stands out these days. 

But right now, he's not worried about that. No, he's suddenly scared Steve won't like the jacket. Scared he got it wrong, again. 

When it comes time to actually give it to Steve, Eddie stalls.

"If you hate it, we can take it back," Eddie stresses, still holding the gold box, reluctant to give it over. 

"I'll love it," Steve says, grinning, holding out his hands.

"You might hate it."

"Eddie, I've never wanted any specific gift from you. I've just wanted you. And you're here, so, I win. I've already won." 

Eddie wants to crumble at that. Fold. And instead just wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. 

The number of people that have just wanted him for him, is pretty damn slim. 

His mother. Uncle Wayne. 

And now, somehow, Steve Harrington. 

It's absurd. 

It's also the best thing Eddie's ever felt, especially since that fucked up Spring Break.

Steve Harrington is actually a good dude has become his mantra. A belief Eddie holds near and fucking dear. The most solid truth he knows. 

"Here," he says, "Merry Christmas." 

Steve opens it and grins, "Oh, look at that. I love it. Thank you," he says and he puts it on. It fits, and Steve twirls around like he really likes it. Maybe he does. Maybe Eddie did good this time.

"It's a Harrington jacket," Eddie explains, "Seemed fitting." 

And Steve smiles with his whole fucking face, reaching out, pulling Eddie close enough to kiss. Steve's arm wrapped behind Eddie's neck, the soft sleeve of the Harrington worn by his very own Harrington, grazing Eddie's skin.

He definitely did good if he deserves this. If he deserves Steve at all.

And Eddie kisses him back.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun! 🧥

Notes: The Harrington Jacket was kind of fascinating to do a deep dive on. It was originally called the G9 by Baracuta, and didn't get its current Harrington name until Rodney Harrington (Ryan O'Neal) wore one on Peyton Place. James Dean, Elvis and Steve McQueen all wore versions the Harrington. In the UK, it was often worn by different subsets, including punks. The Clash famously wore Harringtons.

Nowadays, a true Baracuta Harrington is quite expensive, running $400+ - but I could not find a list price in the 80s. (There are many alternatives, like the red Drizzler worn by James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause, so perhaps if the true G9s were as equally expensive back then, which I'm assuming they were not, but if they were, then Eddie was looking at one of those alternative versions.)

They are still in style today. And I like to imagine Steve Harrington is out there somewhere right now, in his fifties, still wearing this one Eddie gave him.

(I do think Steve's blue S1 jacket is probably a version of a Harrington, but definitely wasn't tartan lined.)

[genericpuff]

The Derivative Fashion Sense of Lore Olympus

So I'm usually out here going Gordon Ramsay on Rachel's ass about her writing and art, but for this unsolicited essay I will be wearing a different hat.

Yep, we're going Miranda Priestly today. Specifically the Miranda Priestly who talks fashion, not the Miranda Priestly who abuses employees lmao (though rest assured, I'm gonna have a lot of curt words throughout this).

Disclaimer: I am not at all an expert on fashion, these are just my thoughts and observations from studying fashion styles as part of my own artistic journey, so as always, take what I have to say with loads of salt. I also realize the irony that I am addressing the derivative nature of Lore Olympus when I, myself, am creating a derivative retelling of Lore Olympus.

Alright, enough small talk.

There's this general misconception in runway fashion that all those "impractical outfits" are meant to be worn by the average person, people such as myself who see these outfits and go "what the fuck do you mean Lady Gaga wore a dress made out of meat?!" When we see these crazy fits, our first impression is often "Why would anyone wear that?"

Well, because they aren't outfits. They're art pieces.

And not only are the outfits themselves art pieces, but the people wearing them are the canvases. These outfits aren't designed for just anyone to wear, especially not your average Joe, they're designed both with the artist's vision as well as the model in mind. A lot of thought, expression, cultural influences, and personal messaging is sewn into these designs.

Think about it this way, you couldn't take that aforementioned Gaga meat dress and put it on Taylor Swift. Not only would it not be physically tailored to her, but it wouldn't align with Swift's brand of music. Gaga, at the time of wearing that dress, was making a statement that came about from a collaborative effort between herself, the canvas, and her fashion designer, the artist. The meaning would be lost if you put Swift, Katy Perry, or any other musician into it, because the fact that Gaga is the one wearing it is part of that meaning.

What would happen if you did take the meat dress and put it on someone else? Well, that's how you get the controversial 2022 Met Gala when Kim Kardashian wore the sequin dress that Marilyn Monroe wore for JFK back in 1962.

Not a replica. Not a re-interpretation. The actual literal dress that Monroe once wore. This was a very bold - and in my opinion, reckless - move on Kim's part, because not only was she forcing herself into a dress not tailored to her (and yes, there has been deliberation on what damage was caused to the dress on account of this) but rather than working with a fashion designer to come up with a fresh new interpretation of the same concept, she just went "yeah I'm gonna wear the exact dress", in what many interpreted as a disrespectful power move to artificially put herself on the same level of prestige as Monroe. But she still isn't on that level of prestige and it speaks volumes that she thought carving out her own legacy would be as simple as just taking someone else's. The wolf wore the sheep's clothing with the intent to fool the sheep, but it was still a wolf.

But okay okay, WHAT does this have to do with Lore Olympus?

Well, Rachel released a new interview clip.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Rachel Smythe (@usedbandaid)

I will say, these seem to have all been recorded at once probably when she was back at NYCC and they're probably going to be released daily leading up to the free release of the finale. Why they're hyping up the free version rather than hyping up the FastPass version that actually generates income, I have no clue, but I digress.

As always, the transcript is as follows:

"I really like looking at like, uh, vintage clothing and silhouettes that are... y'know, timeless. I mean, obviously it's really hard to future-proof work that's set in the modern setting because of course the times are gonna change, like, rapidly and there's not a lot you can do about it, but in terms of, like, fashion, there are just some silhouettes that are always going to look very classy, so... I try to put things that will not age. Like, I think there was a chapter recently where she [Persephone?] had like a very vintage Dior look which I really liked, um... and I feel like that will always look nice, like in 10 years time I'll be like, 'She looked good'. But there are some outfits which are more modern where I'm like, 'That probably won't look good in 10 years time'. But, y'know, we still got the inspired vintage Dior outfit so that's good, that's safe."

There isn't much to say about the actual transcribed text itself, but I do think it's very telling that Rachel tries to upsell her sense of fashion sense in LO when... much of it is just flat out derivative. At best she's often referencing real life people (mostly Hollywood celebrities) and at worst she's usually just grabbing stuff off Pinterest inspo boards without any consideration towards the influences or who she's putting into them.

That said, I do think she told on herself quite a bit in that final line of the interview clip - "that's good, that's safe."

I can understand wanting to play it safe in terms of knowing your limitations and not wanting to create something that would be dated in a few years.

But fashion... isn't about playing it safe. Because ultimately, how something ages in the long term isn't something that you, the artist, can control, and like many art mediums, you need to be focused on what to create next, not on how well your old art pieces still hold up in the present where they've been removed from their original context.

And I think this rings true for a lot of Lore Olympus, beyond just the fashion. It's all just a little too safe. We see it in the fashion, we see it in her uncommitted writing decisions, we see it in how often she's willing to retcon things just to write herself out of corners.

And I think that's really Rachel's biggest weakness as a creator at the end of the day. As much as she's tried to put on the persona of "screw you, I'll do what I want", her actions are always the opposite of what she says. She says that the fashion in LO is very vintage, but I can count on one hand how many outfits were actually vintage. The vast majority of them are a lot more modern, with a lot of Western influences, and sometimes with a boob window thrown in.

Case in point, the most recent outfit of Persephone wearing a practically-nude sparkle dress?

That's Rihanna's Swarovski dress that she wore in 2014.

Now, to Rachel's credit, she did find a way to personalize this to Persephone by removing the cap and giving her a rose-shaped bun, but the outfit itself is still just copied directly from Rihanna. Not only is there not a whole lot of Persephone's influence beyond her being literally made out of roses-

-but there isn't anything calling attention to the fact that this is a Greek myth retelling. And this isn't just a problem with the Swarovski dress callback, this is a problem EVERYWHERE.

And of course, that's not even touching on the fact that Hades and Hecate are forced to wear suits constantly. Because, according to Rachel, the fashion inspiration for Hades and Persephone only went as deep is "he's the groom and she's the bride"-

Rachel plays it safe by sticking purely to the inspirations she consumes from modern American media. The "modern twist" on the myths in LO is literally just "it's Greek myth but it's set in Los Angeles". She doesn't seem to want to put herself out there and actually consume Greek content any deeper than what she can find on Google, and it shows in how little Greek there is in this Greek myth comic.

There is, ironically, as I've been told by community members in ULO, a fashion collection called Persephone created by Paolo Sebastian, and in it you can see the actual Greek influences in these outfits far more than what you see in even Persephone's most visually stunning outfits:

These are dresses and yet Paolo uses them as an opportunity to tell the story of Persephone, somehow even more faithfully than an actual written adaption of The Hymn to Demeter. Because fashion, too, can tell a story - and Lore Olympus' fashion, like its writing, has no story to really tell, at least not in Rachel's hands when she's just pulling whatever she can find from what she treats as a pile of "stuff" on Google.

And that's not even getting into how the writing plays it safe much in the same way as the fashion influences and artistic choices. A good example is that S3 premiere sequence, in which Hades and Persephone are pulled away from each other so that... they can get washed down by their family and peers.

Rachel doesn't really do anything to re-contextualize this reference for the context and setting and circumstances of LO, she just goes "I liked that bath scene from Beauty and the Beast so I'm going to put it in LO."

And of course, it doesn't work as effectively as it did in Beauty and the Beast, because the whole original point of that scene was to showcase the big and scary Beast being washed down like a dog by his servants-turned-into-furniture while he stresses over how he's going to win over Belle. It's a comedic subversion, artistically by showing the ferocious beast reduced into a wet dog, but also on a narrative level by showing through his dialogue and actions how nervous he is to impress Belle because his own fate - as well as the fates of his servants - depend on her falling in love with him. He can't afford to mess this up.

But in LO, it's two naked people who we already know love each other and are committed to each other, we've already seen countless scenes of them being sweet on each other and showcasing that they're into each other, and by all accounts they've already gotten their happy ending, so it makes no sense for them to just be like "OMG SHE LIKES ME?? I CAN'T BELIEVE SHE LIKES ME!" "should I seduce him?!?!??" because this seems like a no-brainer and there's zero actual stakes riding on this the way that there was with Belle and the Beast. Plus the people washing them down aren't their servants who are in the same situation as them, they're random gods from the Pantheon whose affiliation ranges from "family" to "never even had a conversation before". One of the women washing down Persephone has literally never spoken a single line of dialogue to her; another one of them was literally dumped by her partner because he wanted Persephone more than her. Who are these people and why are they enthusiastically appearing to give her a bath? Why is Hades being given a scrub down by his own brother?

And that's really the most striking difference between inspired references and derivative ones. Undertale was a game created by a guy who was in love with retro games like Earthbound and Megaman. Stardew Valley was a game created by a guy who loved Harvest Moon and used to play it with his girlfriend. Content that's built on the foundation of another is natural and the basis of inspiration, but you have to go further with it than just going "yeah this thing existed and I'm taking it", otherwise you miss the purpose of why those inspirations were created the way they were.

And when you don't actually explore how you can re-interpret those influences and add your own voice into them, that's how you wind up writing like Rachel whose writing is about as inspired as a cheap character swap cutaway gag from Family Guy.

Rachel's great at referencing, but that's not at all an impressive thing to do as proven by Peter Griffin. She's not at all re-contextualizing or expanding on what inspired her... but she still claims that she's exactly what she's doing because she calls Lore Olympus a "deconstruction". But her deconstruction only ever goes so far as "well what if Aphrodite left Ares for Hephaestus instead of the other way around?" and then just showing that question and never answering it or delivering on the potential of what that could cause. At best, she'll ask a "what if?" but then never actually show us the what if, it begins and ends with the question and the question itself doesn't provoke any thought deeper than "huh, yeah, that would be neat I guess." Episode's over, next scene. What if we showed that clip of Bill O'Reilly freaking out on set, but like, replaced it with Stewie Griffin and changed nothing else about it except for that? That's the joke, next scene.

I know, we're digressing hard off the fashion here, but the fashion itself is just a symptom of a much bigger problem that expands even beyond Lore Olympus - Rachel plays things way too safe. Even her responses in her interviews are painfully subdued, often resorting to the same tired answers that we've heard 823190589320 times before to the same hand-picked questions that are undoubtedly chosen ahead of time to ensure she doesn't have to answer anything too complicated. And when she does say "I have thoughts about xyz" she never actually... expresses her thoughts. She just says she does and then moves on without any further elaboration because she can't wholeheartedly commit to whatever thoughts she has going on.

Granted, I'm sure that part of that is owed to the fact that she might feel like she can't say anything while the critics are breathing down her neck. I can understand that. But it's gotten so chronic that it's now bleeding into the work itself and it's led to even more criticism of her work. Need I remind you that this is the same person who copy pasted the definition of "xenia" from a first result Google search into her comic instead of naturally writing it into the script:

Rachel played it so safe that she basically treated her own audience like kindergartners by explaining what a scene meant even after explaining it in the text:

As true as it is in fashion, writing stories and making art takes risks. That doesn't mean you have to completely throw caution to the wind, but if you don't take risks, you do yourself the disservice of writing something that can truly be called unique and special to you. If you don't use your influences wisely, if you don't analyze and re-analyze what's influenced you over the years, you're going to wind up losing a lot of subtext in those influences and missing out on the opportunity to add your own voice into the re-interpretation. Rachel does take a lot of risks in LO, but they're not calculated risks, they're not risks that actually have any meaning behind them, she's sort of just throwing stuff at a wall and seeing what sticks, and worst of all, when it doesn't stick, she herself doesn't stick to it, she backpedals, she cowers away from the decisions she's made.

Rachel expressed her worries about depicting fashion that would become aged, but Lore Olympus is already aged through her own inability to commit to her decisions, take risks, and find her voice. It's aged itself through its poor interpretations of the myth, it's aged itself through its reliance on Tumblr tropes that have already been replaced tenfold, and it's aged itself through Rachel herself riding off the initial innovation of creating Lore Olympus and then never continuing to challenge herself or raise the bar for herself.

It proves true the discussion around why Lore Olympus became popular - at the time, it was groundbreaking, drawn in a style that we hadn't seen much of before, with fresh new takes on the myth; now, in 2024, its 'takes' feel tired and half-baked, and its art style has become a corporate-scrubbed shell of what it once was. And yet, Rachel is still rewarded for it all the same, so settling for comfortable mediocrity has become the name of the game.

Rachel may be trying as hard as the Disney life action remakes and Kim Kardashian to put herself on the same pedestal as the greats of yesteryear simply by copying what they did, but in playing it this safe and refusing to find her own voice out of the voices that influenced her, Lore Olympus isn't timeless. It's soulless.

[meazalykov]

across the pond

lauren james x black!reader ( requested by my mutual @pinkyqil )

summary: you surprise your girlfriend at the euros final

you’ve never pulled an all-nighter in your life before, not like this anyway. sure, you’ve stayed up late cramming for exams, but this is different. 

the glow of the computer screen in front of you blurs with each passing hour. your eyes feel gritty, and your fingers ache from typing, but you don’t stop. you can’t. there’s too much riding on this.

you lean back in your chair, running your hands through your thick, coiled hair, tugging lightly at the roots in frustration. 

the clock on your laptop reads 3:47 am, and the words on your screen are starting to swim, but you push through. you have to. you can’t afford to let anything slip, not with how close the semester is to finishing. 

not with how much pressure you’re under.

columbia isn’t forgiving when it comes to deadlines, and you knew this when you got accepted. 

you also didn’t anticipate how difficult it would be to balance school and life, especially when your girlfriend is lauren james, playing at the highest level of football with chelsea and the england national team.

you check your phone for what feels like the hundredth time that night, no new messages from lauren. 

the last one is still there, sitting unanswered in your text thread, where the argument escalated and left the both of you simmering in frustration.

“you don’t get it, laur. you don’t know how this feels. you’re a footballer, not a college student.”

you regret saying that the moment it you said it, but you were so tired. so frustrated with the assignments piling up and the guilt you felt for not being able to make it to london to watch lauren play in the euro final against germany. 

and lauren? she had been so excited, so insistent that you come, that you be there to watch her on the biggest stage of her career.

“and you think i don’t get pressure? you think i don’t know how it feels to have people depending on me, waiting for me to perform? come on, y/n. that’s not fair.”

you can still hear her voice, quiet but sharp with disappointment, over the phone. that conversation ended hours ago, but it’s still looping in your mind, like some background track you can’t shut off.

you don’t have time to dwell on it now. you stare at the paper in front of you, force yourself to focus. 

the library is quiet except for the occasional rustle of paper or the sound of someone else’s fingers tapping on a keyboard. you’re one of the few people left at this hour, the kind of student who lives in the library when finals loom.

you shift in your seat, the wooden chair creaking under your weight, and refocus on the words in front of you. you’re so close to finishing. if you can just get through these last couple of pages, you can make it. 

you’ve already mapped it out in your head — finish the work, book a flight to london, and surprise lauren before the final.

it sounds simple, but it’s anything but.

the hours stretch on, but eventually, your fingers slow down, your paper complete. 

relief washes over you, your muscles relaxing for the first time in what feels like days. you save your work, upload your assignments, and lean back in your chair with a long exhale.

you did it.

now comes the real test.

you grab your phone, fingers shaking slightly from exhaustion and adrenaline as you pull up your flight app. 

there’s one that leaves JFK airport in three hours, direct to london, and your thumb hovers over the “book now” button for a second, before pressing it. the confirmation comes through almost immediately, and for the first time all night, a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. 

you’re going to make it.

you quickly gather your things, tossing your laptop into your bag and making a mental note to grab some coffee before heading to the airport. as you make your way out of the library, the cool early morning air hits you, waking you up slightly as you pull your jacket tighter around yourself. 

hopefully the chairs on the plane are comfortable in comfort plus, since you’ll get your overdue sleep on the plane. 

your mind is racing with thoughts of lauren and the final. you’d said some things you shouldn’t have in that argument, but now you have the chance to make it right.

the cab ride to the airport is a blur, and before you know it, you’re boarding the plane, settling into your seat with a sigh. you shoot lauren a quick text — nothing too revealing, just that you’re thinking of her and you’re sorry about how the conversation ended. 

you doubt she’ll reply before the final, but it’s something.

you close your eyes for a moment, trying to rest before the flight takes off. the exhaustion from the all-nighter pulls you into a light sleep, but you’re too anxious to fully relax. your mind keeps going back to the moment lauren told you about england making it to the final, how her eyes had lit up, how excited she was. 

you’ve never seen her so happy, so ready for something. you didn’t want to let her down, and now, at the last minute, you’re determined to show up for her.

by the time the plane lands in london, you’re awake from sleeping on the whole flight. the moment your phone gets signal, you shoot a quick text to leah, who’s always been a good friend to both you and lauren.

“hey, i’m in london. didn’t know if you had a spare ticket? i know it’s late to ask.”

you’re not even sure if she’ll respond, she’s probably completely focused on the final, but a minute later, your phone buzzes.“

“hi!!! i got you. meet me at the stadium.”

your heart leaps, excitement flooding through you. you’re really going to make it.

when you arrive at the stadium, it’s already buzzing with energy. fans in england jerseys are everywhere, and you can feel the excitement in the air. you make your way to the designated section leah mentioned, slipping past security with the ticket she arranged for you.

you’ve never been in the friends and family section for a game this big before, and it feels surreal to be surrounded by people who are all here for their loved ones, just like you are.

the match is electric. england and germany, battling it out on the pitch in front of a roaring crowd. you feel every emotion as the game flows, biting your lip, clenching your fists every time lauren gets the ball. she’s playing brilliantly, and you’re bursting with pride.

then, chloe kelly scores. you jump to your feet, screaming along with the rest of the crowd, your heart pounding as england pulls ahead 2-1. 

you can barely contain your excitement as the final whistle blows, and england are crowned champions. the stadium erupts, and you find yourself screaming again, jumping up and down with the other family members and friends of the players. 

the joy in the air is palpable, infectious.

and then you see her — lauren, holding the trophy, her face a mixture of disbelief and pure happiness. you watch as she celebrates with her teammates, grinning from ear to ear, and your heart swells. this is everything she’s worked for.

as the celebrations wind down, you linger near the edge of the family section, watching as the players start making their way over to their loved ones. 

lauren is laughing with leah and georgia, the trophy still in her hands, when she suddenly pauses.

“is that—”

her eyes widen as she spots you, standing just a few feet away, talking to jess. her jaw drops, and for a second, she looks like she can’t believe what she’s seeing.

you grin, waving slightly as her eyes lock onto yours.

“y/n?” lauren says, her voice barely audible over the noise of the crowd.

you take a step toward her, closing the gap between you as she breaks into a run, practically throwing herself into your arms.

“you’re here,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion as she pulls back to look at you, her hands cupping your face.

“there was no way i was going to miss this,” you say, grinning as you brush a curl out of her face.

her smile is blinding, and she leans in to kiss you, soft and sweet, her lips lingering on yours as the world around you fades away for a moment.

“i’m so proud of you,” you murmur against her lips, and you feel her smile grow even wider.

“i’m so happy you made it,” lauren whispers, pulling you into another hug, her arms wrapped tightly around you as the noise of the celebrations swirls around you.

and in that moment, standing there in the middle of a stadium full of thousands of people, with lauren holding onto you like you’re the only thing that matters.

you know you made the right choice. there was no way you could’ve missed this. not for anything in the world.

masterlist

thank you for the request pinky I hope you liked it :D

[thebearmage]

Hiii, could you write a one shot about Five Hargreeves being all cuddly and sleepy with his lover? the time is set in season 3 after the robe scene where he talks to his siblings and they're all eating take out.

In Their Arms

Five Hargreeves x GN!Reader

Summary: Five hasn't gotten the chance to rest for 20 days. Trying to save the world from apocalypse after apocalypse. Now, his body seems to be catching up to him. But luckily, you are there to catch him.

Five and reader are both 18+

You sigh as hot steam fills the room. You were sitting in the sauna by yourself, wrapped in a simple towel.

Five had taken a bath before you and had even offered to share, but you wanted to be left alone for a little.

It was nothing against him, and he understood, you just needed to decompress. Process a few things.

You had crash landed in 1963 with Diego. However, when he became obsessed with saving JFK, he quickly ditched you. Much to your annoyance.

You had wandered by yourself, taking odd jobs for cash but never staying in the same place twice. You didn't have powers of your own, but that doesn't mean you weren't powerless.

Thinking back on it, you realized how fucked a lot of the shit you had to go through was. Your heart reached out to Allison, who you knew had it worse.

You sigh and put your head in your hands, taking the moments you needed to process. After a while, you wrapped yourself in a towel and went back to your room.

You had stolen a pricy necklace back in '63, which, when paired with Luther's watch, had given the group three rooms.

One had two beds, Viktor and Allison had taken that room. One room had some bunk beds and a spring mattress, the rest of the boys took that one. So, you and Five were left with a tiny room with a single bed.

Neither one of you was complaining.

When you made it back to the room, you take the robe off. Wincing a little at the few wounds you'd gotten back at The Academy.

Jamie and Slone had attacked you before realizing you were powerless. Once they did, Jamie scoffed and said you weren't worth her time, but Sloane apologized and even offered to treat your wounds.

You were both touched and insulted by Sloane's offer but knew her heart was in the right place.

You change into a loose t-shirt and shorts, gently pulling up your shirt to bandage your wound.

You heard the door open behind you and a hiss of breath.

"Shit, did you get that at the academy?"

It was Five. He quickly walked over to you and guide your hands down, helping you bandage your wound.

"Yeah," you grunt when he presses a bit too hard, "It's just a bad bruise, I'll be fine,"

"Who was it?"

"Five..." you scold, "Don't, she apologized,"

Five growls but doesn't say anything, just continues to bandage you.

After he was done, you kiss his forehead, "Thanks, baby,"

You lay down in bed as Five changes into similar clothing to yours.

Suddenly, he stops. He's got his shirt halfway on, you notice the abrupt lack of movement and look up.

"Five?"

Five sways a bit, before shaking his head and pulling the shirt over his head, "I think I need to lay down,"

He slowly sits down on the edge of the bed. You slowly sit up to properly look at Five.

He looks so tired. Eyebags under his eyes, slumped posture, slow blinking. This man has been through hell and back, and it finally seemed to be catching up with him.

You hold your arms out, "Come here,"

He turns to you, "Huh?"

You smile, gently bracing yourself against the headrest, "Come here, baby.

Five blinks slowly before crawling over to you. You gently guide him into your lap, head tucked under your chin.

Five was stiff for a few moments, clearly testing to see if he liked the contact. You gently rub up and down his arms, before gently wrapping a spare blanket around him.

“Oh, baby," You coo, gently running a hand through his hair, "You take such good care of everything. The world, your family, me. But I think it's time you let yourself be taken care of,"

Five's body starts to slump onto you more. He nuzzles into your chest and wraps his around your waist. He's on top of you now, but you're both comfortable.

Five sighs. You're so warm and comfortable. He doesn't want to move. Why would he move? Why would he do anything else but lay here, wrapped up protectively in your arms?

Five feels his eyelids grow heavy. Your hands continue to pet through his hair and run soothingly up and down his back. Why do anything else? Why kill? Why fight? Why push forward? Now is not the time for that.

"Looks who's struggling to stay awake," You tease softly, voice no louder than a whisper.

Five whines, hiding his face away in your chest, "Noooo, I'm fine,"

“You can barely keep your eyes open,” you chuckle softly, “It’s okay, baby. You can fall asleep in my lap. I’ll hold you, all night long, just like this,”

Five hums, completely relaxing against you. You gently tilt his chin up and begin leaving kisses down his neck. Not to arouse, but rather to calm.

Five sighs in bliss

You kiss up Five's neck to his ear, “I love you,” you whisper right into his ear. You then start to gently kiss the lobe, 

Five squirms a little, laughing softly, “Y-Y/N! S-stop!”

You laugh too, “Stop squirming! I’m not even kissing that hard! You’re just ticklish!”

“A-am not!” Five protests weakly. You slowly start to stop, 

“Well, what if I move my lips over to your forehead,” You kiss Five's forehead, 

“Then your nose,” You kiss his nose, 

“Then finally, your lips,” You kiss Five's softly, trying to put all the love you feel into one kiss. You break away after a little, “I love you, baby. I love you so, so much,”

“I love you too,” Five lays back down on your chest, smiling.

“I know you do,” You purr, resuming your earlier movements, “You’ve shown me that every day. And I can never describe how thankful I am for that and for you,”

You kiss Five's head, "Now, just rest, my love. I'll be here when you wake up,"

Five smiles and finally lets his eyes flutter closed. He curls into you a little more, before finally drifting to sleep.

———————❖———————

WOO! Finally got this request done! So sorry it took so long, Anon! I'll get better at answering requests! Thanks again for the request and feel free to send more in!

[1997starcandy]

jfk x jackie one-shots!

noticed that many of you on here wanted more jfk x jackie fics and i did too and so i waited but got a little impatient and thought, why not write some myself!!! anyway, i’ve never done this before and tried my best to stay true to history and their real-life counterparts. i hope i don’t disappoint and most of these were, unfortunately, quite rushed and messy with minimal proof so i apologize in advance :(((

“miss bouvier?” a young assistant, barely out of college, held out an envelope with a sheepish smile. “a man in a suit dropped this off for you. he said it was important.”

jackie thanked her before taking the envelope and watching her disappear down the hall. what was it now? she thought, trying to breathe through the headache pounding behindher eyes.

she’d been late - the cab she’d rushed to catch broke down halfway, and by th time she arrived at the office, she was already behind on a deadline. even the typewriter seemed determined to conspire against her, jamming so often she’d nearly tossed it out the window. by two o’ clock, her blouse had wrinkled and had been stained with blotches of coffee. really, she’d had half a mind to cancel the whole afternoon, but just when she thought she might’ve been at wit’s end, she recognized the scrawl across the front of the telegram.

AM TRYING TO GET THROUGH A REPORT, BUT YOU, JACQUELINE, HAVE ME SO DISTRACTED I’VE HARDLY GOT THE FAINTEST CLUE WHAT I’M READING. IF THE COUNTRY FALLS APART, IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT.

IT’S MUCH TOO DULL COUNTING DOWN THE MINUTES. PLEASE HURRY AND RELIEVE THIS POOR SENATOR OF HIS AGONY.

JACK

she leaned back in her chair and read it again, unable to suppress the smile that followed. trust jack to send something that, despite being equal parts ridiculous and endearing, was exactly what she needed. 

whatever else the day had in store, she’d learn to manage it somehow. and if she couldn’t, well, she supposed jack could shoulder the blame this time. 

the car was too fast for jackie’s liking, but she didn’t mind. 

jack had picked her up outside her office shortly after four, his car parked half a block away, engine idling, as if he hadn’t wanted to attract too much attention. 

“i thought you and i could use an escape for a while,” he said, his mouth curling into a half-smile once she’d settled into her seat.

an escape, she mused quietly - but he didn’t need to explain. by that point, jackie had learned that jack kennedy never really asked. he suggested, he beckoned, and people followed. 

the air carried the chill of autumn, though the sun was still warm enough to glid everything it touched. her scarf fluttered against her cheek as the wind rushed past, and she reached up to hold it in place. a new hermès - navy and gold, bought impulsively, the colors complementing the neat suit she’d worn to work that morning.

jack reached over, his fingers brushing lightly against her cheek as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. his touch lingered there for just a moment, soft and purposeful. “you’re not nervous, are you?” he asked, his tone light but probing. 

“of course not,” she said, though hemr own fingers betrayed her, curling tightly around the edge of her seat. 

he laughed then, the kind that felt like it wasn’t mean to disarm you but did anyway. “good. because there’s no going slow in this life, jackie. not if you want to get anywhere worth going.”

she studied his profile for a moment - sharp, assured, touched by the glow of the setting sun. he had a recklessness to him, but it was oddly measured and thoughtful in a way that came from someone who knew exactly how far he could push before the world would bend to meet him. 

“where are we going, then?” she asked, trying to match his nonchalance while ignoring the thrill seeping in. 

“you’ll see.”

she wanted to tell him she was already there - that sitting next to him felt like the kind of adventure she’d spent her life waiting for. but she didn’t. maybe another time. instead, she leaned back and loosened her grip on the seat until her hands were flying around the fabric of his suit, laughing as she mentioned something about him needing to work on his style - and him brushing off the comment with a casual flick of his finger at his collar - before adjusting the pearl clip that held her hair in place and letting the wind tangle through the strands as the car surged forward, its force as electric as the man driving it.

meeting the kennedys was like stepping into another world - a loud, chaotic, and impossibly magnetic one. jack’s siblings filled the house with noise and energy, while jackie was still trying to get her bearings when they were all ushered to ethe dinner table. 

before they sat down, jack said to jackie with a grin, “they’re like sharks. if they sense weakness, you’re chum.” 

“thanks, jack. very reassuring.” 

she smoothed her dress and straightened up, glancing at him. “do you think ‘sweet jackie’ could perfect this? oh, i never thought about it that way! my, mrs. kennedy, what lovely china! is that limoges?” 

jack snorted and leaned in, just a bit - “what about ‘just jackie’?” came his suggestion. 

she smiled and relaxed. “i like that.” 

everyone took their seats, and for a while, jackie let their conversation stack all up on one another. it wasn’t long before bobby leaned over, his grin conspiratorial. “so, jackie,” he said, loud enough to draw the room’s attention, “how do you put up with my brother?” 

‘just jackie’ didn’t miss a beat. “selective hearing,” she said lightly, raising her glass fora sip of her cocktail, “and a lot of prayer.” 

the table erupted into laughter, even jack, who was shaking his head. “you’ll fit in just fine,” he murmured to her afterwards, reaching under the table to briefly squeeze her hand.

jack had asked jackie to be his date to eisenhower’s inaugural ball, and she found herself accepting surprisingly quickly. how could she reject an evening spent in jack’s company? it was hard to say no to him, but of course, she’d never let him know that. 

when she stepped into the main rolm, she noticed jack’s eyes on her immediately. he was standing by the door, looking impossibly calm for someone who had been waiting pins and needles for her to show up. his expression didn’t betray him - his hands were tucked casually in his pockets, his shoulders relaxed - but the moment she began walking towards him, he softened just the slightest, and she wondered if he was even seeing anyone else.

“christ, jackie…”

she couldn’t help smiling, tilting her head just enough to flatter him. “good or bad?”

“good. good,” he said quickly. “it’s just you.”

she slid her arm through his and followed his steps. “well, don’t let the rest of the room think it’s just me.”

“never. you always did that part yourself.”

they wove through the crowd for a while, exchanging nods and polite greetings. at one point, jackie felt slightly overwhelmed by all the formality - and wondered how people like jack could do this forever and not lose the will to live - but jack’s proximity had a way of keeping her grounded. eventually, they ended up in the ballroom, where the orchestra struck up a waltz that seemed far more elegant than either of them. still, they tried. jack wasn’t the most graceful dancer - his movements were a bit stiff, his rhythm half a step off - but jackie didn’t care the slightest. in fact, she found herself laughing as he spun her a little too quickly, sending her off balance and nearly collidin g with another couple.

“jack!” she gasped, clutching his shoulder to steady herself. “if you do that again, you might ruin my shoes.”

“don’t worry,” he said, his grin unrepentant. “i’ve no problem buying you new ones.”

“oh, aren’t you presumptuous…” she teased. 

“no. actually, i might ruin a lot of things for you, jackie - shoes, plans, maybe even a heart or two. but i promise, i’ll always replace them with something better.”

she wasn’t entirely sure what he meant, but the way he said it eased her enough that she didn’t feel compelled to pick it apart. 

as the night wore on and the crowd thinned, jack and jackie slipped away to a quieter, more secluded corner near a marble column. he loosened his bowtie, his fingers tugging at it until it hung undone around his collar. he leaned back, his energy simmering but still jack - not the senator, not the kennedy, just the man who, when he was with her, gave her all his time and attention. 

“did you have fun?” 

“i did,” she said, walking over beside him, and she doesn’t think she’d ever meant anything more.

he turned towards her slightly. “jackie.”

“yes?”

“would it be presumptuous of me if i kissed you?”

she hesitated for just a moment. then, tilting her chin up ever so slightly - “extremely.”

he kissed her then, his hand brushing lightly against her cheek. his lips were warm and firm but not insistent, the scent of him - cologne and the faintest hint of smoke - leaving jackie spellbound. his touch was steady, his thumb grazing her jaw, and when he finally pulled back, she found herself breathless, her hands on the lapel of his jacket, her heart racing in a way she had both fully expected and yet completely failed to prepare for.

“i told you id ruin something.”

she laughed softly, shaking her head. “and what do you plan on replacing it with?”

“guess you’ll have to stick around and find out.”

and against all better judgment, she knew she would.

mr. kennedy had orchestrated every detail to perfection, but none of the grandeur mattered - not the flowers arranged just so, not the orchestra playing as though the fate of western civilization rested on their tempo, not the battalion of photographers angling for posterity - because all she could see was jack. after the ceremony, the newlyweds stepped out of the cathedral into a sunlight so fierce that it felt as thoughthe heavens had chosen to celebrate alongside everyone else. the crowd roared, the church bells clanged, but for the life of her, she couldn’t summon the usual concern over how they looked or what anyone thought. she was just happy, and that felt sufficient. 

the cake towered like something out of a fairy tale - four feet tall, each tier wrapped in ornate, sugary icing that looked more like embroidery and seemed too delicate to cut. but tradition waits for no art, and cut it they did, jack’s hand covering jackie’s gloved one as they worked the knife through the first layer. everyone gathered around the table broke into applause, followed by a cacophony of laughter when jack smeared the faintest dab of frosting on jackie’s wrist before brushing it off with a chaste kiss. next came the toasts - kind words from family and friends, some touching, others ribbing. jack gave a toast of his own, standing tall and proud with a glass in hand as he thanked everyone for sharing in “the happiest day of his life.” 

the remainder of september 12 felt like a dream, the kind you never want to wake from. a s the hours passed and the crowd began to thin, the music softened into a light refrain. 

~

the newlyweds retreated at last, their laughter echoing throughout the long, quiet hallway leading to their suite. 

“do you think they’ll notice we’re gone?” jackie asked, glancing over her shoulder as if expecting someone to be hot on their heels, ready to report their escape. 

“let them. they’ve had enough of us for one day.” 

shelaughed, leaning slightly into him as they continued walking, though she could hardly take another step with the puff of her dress weighing her down. “jack, this feels like sneaking out of school.” 

“if we’re caught, i’ll just say my wife made me do it.” 

when they reached the door, jack pushed it open and stepped aside to let her in first. “mrs. kennedy, your palace awaits.” 

she wasted no time in kicking off her shoes, the sound of them hitting the floor strangely satisfying after such an exhausting yet exhilarating day. “if i don’t lie down right now, i might collapse,” she said, sinking onto the edge of the bed with a dramatic sigh. 

jack closed the door, his tie askew and his hair slightly wild now, looking less like the polished groom from earlier and more like the jack she knew best. 

“tired already?”

“you should try spending hours in this dress. it’s a miracle i haven’t fainted.” 

“do you want me to call someone to carry you to bed? a secret service agent, perhaps?”

she rolled her eyes. “very funny.” 

“let me help you get comfortable.” he deftly began undoing the buttons of her dress, each one coming undone as the dress slid off her shoulders and pooled around her feet, leaving her in her slip. 

“comfortable yet?”

“not quite…” 

he kneeled down in front of her, his fingers grazing her ankle as he began unfastening the clasp of her stocking. he worked slowly, his gaze flickering up to meet hers every so often, as if to test her. 

“you’re taking your time.”

“that’s the idea,” he murmured, moving to her other leg and tracing a light path up her calf before sliding the second stocking off with a slowness that felt all too maddening. when he finished, his hands smoothed up her thighs, pausing at the hem of her slip. “better?” 

“almost.” 

a few heavenly seconds passed, then - “jack?”

“mmm?”

“i love you.” 

the change in him was immediate, as if her words had ignited a fire within him. he slid his hands higher, gripping her waist firmly as he pulled her closer to the edge of the bed. he kissed her deeper, harder, and broke the kiss only long enough to look at her intently, his breath warm against her cheek. “you’re incredible, you know that?” 

he leaned back then, his hands lingering on the straps of her slip. “you don’t need this anymore, do you?” she shook her head as he slid the straps down her shoulders, the silky fabric sliding slowly over her skin. then he worked his way down her body with deliberate care, kneeling between her legs, his hands pressing against her thighs as he loitered sensual kisses to the inside of her knee, trailing higher with each gasp she released. 

“jack,” she whispered. 

“would you like me to stop?”

“never.” she was about to say something else but could no longer find her voice as she was lost in the trance of his hands, his mouth.

“i love you too,” he said softly. “and i… am about to show you just how much.”

he was everywhere this time, his movements raw and desperate, as though he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. her hands found his hair, his back, his shoulders - anything she could reach, really - pulling his bare chest closer to her own as his name fell from her lips.

for a second, her mind drifted. so many people, so much to manage, so many little things she still had to think about - the thank-you notes she’d need to write, the calls to return, the endless appointments, the new life ahead of her that she would share with jack.  

but those thoughts faded as quickly as they came. none of those things mattered, at least not right now. for once, everything else could wait.

[purple-scrunchie]

More Heathers Headcanons bc they're rotting my brain

Heather Chandler:

absolutely dogshit at croquet. Only plays to knock other people out

mostly Heather

*slaps roof * this blondie can fit so much anger

has a deep respect for Duke but sees too much of herself in her (and therefore as a threat) and doesn't know how to deal with that healthily

Has an older stepsister she's only met twice

They write each other letters and they're quite close

refuses to let herself or any other Heather date the football team (she says "we don't date the help")

secretly likes her friends but doesn't know how to go about telling them she loves and appreciates them as people

her love language is getting people matching earrings for their birthdays

Heather Duke:

ex dance kid (iykyk)

wrote emo poetry in 7th grade (she burned it all last year though)

queen of malicious compliance

knows a shit ton of card tricks

is not allowed to shuffle the deck on poker night

she knows what she did

queen of telling scary stories (has made Heather, Heather, and Veronica sob like little babies before)

had a photography phase too

still has loads and loads of undeveloped film left over in her closet from this

her dad used to take her fishing and she secretly still loves it

Heather McNamara:

hates swimming

hates water in general

This girl only drinks milk it's a problem

Has literally everything you could ever need in her bag

once mistook her mace for her sunscreen

never again

ex theater kid (she was really good but then got busy with cheer, which took priority because her parents said so)

used to want to be an actress

now she wants to be an equine vet so she can get paid to be a horse girl all day

Not stupid at all, just has a selective attention span

broke her arm when she got thrown off a horse in 3rd grade

Veronica Sawyer:

has all 3 Heathers in her contacts as 'Heather'

she knows what's from who based on the messages

her bag is so damn disorganized she's basically Mary Poppins

we're talking everything from extra snacks to industrial-grade superglue

wanted to get a tattoo but her parents said no

she got JD to do it for her anyway (it's a really shitty rendition of her childhood cat, JFK)

lives off peanut butter & jelly sandwiches

still falls for the toothpaste in Oreos prank

bit her nails until Heather got her that nasty anti-biting polish for her birthday last year

Jason Dean:

red sox supporter

owns a tattoo gun

owns a real gun too

and a signed baseball bat (too bad he can't read the signature)

should not own any of these items

best friends with the movie theater clerk

uses this to see so many movies for free

the definition of "I know a place"

likes to walk around in the woods

just fuck around and throw rocks and shit

He told Veronica that if he ever goes missing that's the first place she should check

[tfc-gal-pal]

I was just thinking about how at the start of 1x08 Crystal is heading back to London and the boys are more or less preparing to as well. And it made me think what if they did before Esther captured them? I know she would most likely never stop looking for them and would probably go to London as well, but I think it would be a funny filler episode. Edwin and Charles get their groove back in London and Crystal goes to her parents while Esther has to take like 4 flights to get to London because she lives in freaking Port Townsend and her first flight has a long layover in JFK and then her next flight gets cancelled and then her bags with her ghost torture equipment get seized by TSA—

Anyways, I think it would be funny.

[ladylooch]

Bones - Part 5 - [Mack x David]

A/N: I want to say big, huge thank you to @wardlow and @casualhilarity for being so supportive and kind when I asked them if they would read the first 5 chapters of the series for me. I was really struggling on if this was good, flowing, made sense etc. Both of you showed up for me, even though you're so busy, and gave great feedback! I love you soooo much! A million forehead smooches to you! I could not have gotten through these first few parts without you both 💜

& I have to shout out my favorite little sister, @missjomarch. Part of this angst was your idea in the making. You little writer you 😘 I love you! Thank you for dreaming about these two with me.

Okay, now, without further ado.... let's get into it 🔥

Word Count: 5.0k

Silence.

Not even the hum of the refrigerator or a chirping bird to break it. It’s too heavy, blanketed in fresh snow and the stillness of the morning after a big storm. 

Inside her family’s cabin, Mack slowly brings a cup of fresh, hot coffee to her lips. She stares out the window, ignoring her blurry reflection in the glass. The pines are practically bent in half from all the snow the area has seen this winter. Normally, she may have been hesitant about driving into the Alps alone in these conditions, but nothing about now is normal. 

Mack shakes her head, trying not to think about the circumstances that brought her here. Or how she walked into JFK three days ago with a ticket bound for Ireland, but didn’t get on that plane. Instead she transferred it to a one way ticket to Zurich then rented a car to get up here without disturbing her parents. Although with the security cameras on the cabin, they know she is here. 

Everything okay? Her mom had texted her.

Yeah. Just need a break and some solitude. 

Okay. Love you 😘 

One corner of the blanket across her shoulders falls down to her elbow. Mack grabs it, putting it back into place and curling more into herself. Nothing about the cabin is cold. It’s modern and fancy with high end heating elements, but it is no match for the chill of a broken heart. 

A lump forms in Mack’s throat.

What the hell did she do?

She should call him. She should apologize immediately, but her limbs and fingers won’t move. They won’t grab the phone to her left and press his name to ring across the world. The muscles of her face can’t possibly move her mouth, and her brain is blank for the words she should say to him. 

But Mack knows exactly what happened, an 8 hour plane ride helped her quickly realize it.

She got scared. Plain and simple.

It was too good. All of it. To the point that the darkness in the corners of her brain lured her into the comforting old habit of being the one who cares less. Her deep seeded beliefs that she doesn’t need anyone to live on this earth. Survival depends on your ability to exist alone and she could feel herself depending on him.

She broke all of her rules for him- she dated him, fell in love with him, spent weeks on his farm, turned down assignments. Then the trade rumors swirled and he acted like they didn’t exist when her whole world was turned upside down with the what ifs. What if he left New York? What would she do? But David's silence made it seem so simple. She would go with him. And when it came to the next steps he was starting to talk about, and want, Mack couldn’t do it. She liked the way things were and him wanting more is a need Mack doesn’t believe she can provide for him.

Because he deserves so much better than this. Wasn’t that what she was trying to show him by leaving? Look at how much better your life is when I’m not in it. Simple. No one running across the world, chasing after who knows what. He deserved someone who would follow him anywhere and put roots down. That’s not her.

It can’t be her. 

But when he came barreling into his apartment, looking at her like she was shredding his hearts to pieces, she almost faltered. She almost stayed. And that reaction scared her more than anything else did. It was a blimp, but she could see herself in Seattle or fucking Dallas. For him. But what is in those cities for her? Is that who she is now? 

No. 

No matter how much she loves him, she can’t do it this way.

Mack jolts up from the chair, shaking away these thoughts. She is done with this merry-go-round of nothing. She has work to do.

Later in the morning, Mack is deep in rewriting her next piece for the magazine when a loud pop jolts her away from her computer screen. She smacks her ankle on the leg of the table, yowling out in pain. Then she whips her head towards the front door where the sound came from. She glares in frustration until the reality of how alone she really is out here settles in. What was that? She gets up, tiptoeing over towards the door with her blanket flowing like a cape behind her. She looks out at the U shaped drive way, seeing her dad pulling out a Louis Vuitton duffle bag from his shiny Mercedes. 

Mack’s grip on the blanket tightens.

Her mom did not believe her. If she did, she wouldn’t have sent in the big guns.

Mack sighs, then unlocks the door, opening it for her dad as he steps on the porch.

“Mom sent me.” He shrugs then greets her with a hug. “But also I wanted to come. Lucie called.”

Lucie. Fuck. In Mack’s haste to leave New York, and David, she didn’t think about her older sister. David must have told her. Guilt pierces her thoughts again. Lucie is going to be so angry with her. Connor too. This is why she should have never started down this road to begin with.

“Oh.” Mack responds blankly to her dad.

“We don’t have to talk about it.” Her dad assures her. Mack nods in agreement, looking down as a sting fills her eyes. 

Nico walks into the cabin behind her, setting his duffle bag on the couch. Mack touches two fingers to the corners of her eyes, collecting the wetness there discreetly.

“Um, there is still coffee in the carafe over there.”

“No, thanks. I got some on the drive up.”

Mack nods, then pads over to the chair in the living room. Her dad takes the couch, stretching out his long legs onto the coffee table. He crosses his feet at his ankles, then laces his fingers at the back of his head. 

“How is work?” Mack shrugs. Probably not good considering she didn’t get onto the flight she agreed to be on. She did text Sonja that a family emergency was calling her home to Switzerland and received an instant response for her to take all the time she needed. “Lucie seemed to think you were going to Ireland?”

“I was.” Mack acknowledges. She reaches up to her nose, scratching a non-existent itch to avoid his gaze.

“Ah, she is a true Swiss girl. She traded luck for snow.” He chuckles. Mack smiles at his corny attempt to make her laugh, then curls her legs tighter up onto the chair. She swallows hard, looking at the fireplace embers blackened from last night's fire.

“I just… couldn’t go.” She whispers. Her bottom lip is scraped into her mouth by her top teeth before she sighs. She meets his patient gaze again. “What did Lucie tell you?” Mack asks. His arms cross over his chest.

“That you left for Ireland on an assignment after breaking things off with David.” Mack drops her gaze back to the cream carpet. “Is that true?” Mack nods. “I’m sorry, sweets.” He murmurs. “Will you tell me what happened?”

Shame fills Mack’s throat as she assumes her dad means ‘what did David do?' Because nothing. All he did was fall in love with a scared and timid woman, who ran at the first real sign of trouble. How can she tell her dad the truth? How could he not be extremely disappointed in her?

“I fucked up.” She chokes through a sob. Her bottom lip trembles like the breath she sucks in. This admission surprises her as much as her father who raises his thick eyebrows. She begins to pant heavily, trying to suck in big breaths to stop crying. “He is perfect and I am a mess.” 

“Mack, you are the furthest thing from a mess.” He assures her. He opens his right arm out towards the empty couch cushion next to him. Mack gets up and folds herself into his body, sighing into his chest as more tears fall down her face.

“He’s never going to forgive me for this. He shouldn’t. I deserve whatever happens after this.” Mack closes her eyes, letting herself be comforted by her dad’s hands wrapping around her back. She sniffs. “I got scared. It all felt so good. So perfect. And this monster inside of me flipped the table when rumors started about him being traded. He never told me anything about them, but kept like making plans for us and this wasn’t supposed to be anything like what it was. We were just supposed to…” She trails off. 

“Hang out?” Her dad fills in. 

“Yeah.” 

“Baby, nothing about what mama and I saw when we were in New York was hanging out.” He rubs her back comfortingly. “You are in love with each other. I can’t imagine that all could have blown up in a few weeks, or because of some rumors.”

“No, it didn’t.” She shakes her head. “I wrapped dynamite around it and blew it up instead because I don’t know how to be in love like that. And I don’t think I wanna be.” 

“You don’t want to be with someone who loves you? Mack?”

Mack pauses, then pulls away to look at his face.

“What?”

“You don’t know how to be in love like that, so you blew it up because you don’t want to be in love?” He rephrases. Mack still looks confused. Is her reasoning that wild or does she not understand what he is saying? “Did you talk to David about any of this before you strapped the dynamite to it?” 

“No.” She shakes her head. Bigger tears fill her eyes. “Why do you make it sound so simple?”

“Because I’ve been in love with your mom for almost 30 years. I’ve had some practice.” He removes a slice of hair from her wet cheek. “Don’t beat yourself up. You’ll figure out more of this as you go through life with him.” Mack’s bottom lip wobbles.

“No. He’s… never going to forgive me. You didn’t see his face. He tried to talk to me. He tried to save us and I wouldn’t let him.”

“Sweets, this all comes down to a simple conversation. Get on the same page. If you don’t want to move if he gets traded, say that. Or if you want to go with him, say that. Give him the opportunity to meet you where you are, so you can grow together into the next stage.”

“He deserves better than someone who is unsure.”

“You don’t get to decide that for him.” His reminder is gentle but deeply true. “He does.” Mack nods, looking down at where her tears have splotched into his gray sweatshirt. “You do get to decide for yourself if this is what you need though. It’s okay if he is perfect, and loves you the way that you deserve, and you still don’t want it right now.” Mack starts to cry again, shaking her head no.

“No I really, really, really want it. I love him and all I did was hurt us both.”

Nico pulls her back into his chest again becoming the safe space she needs to feel everything catch up with her. It’s long, painful sobs that threaten the collapse of her chest. When her tears dry on her cheeks, and her body stops quivering from emotion, her and Nico sit in the same silence that was here before he arrived. Light snow begins to fall outside again and they both watch the flakes settle into the white ground from their perch. 

The only thing Mack can think about is how badly she wishes David was the one holding her right now.

Mack sniffs, wiping at her nose with her thumb.

“I’m going to go back.” She nods. “Face whatever is waiting for me there.” 

If she doesn’t try to fix this, she’ll never have him again. She owes it to herself, and to him, to try.

“I like that choice.” Her dad smiles gently, squeezing her tighter to his chest for a moment. It’s almost like he is trying to imprint this moment into his skin. “Maybe we could go back home though? Spend some time with mama? I know she would love to get her hands on you too.”

Mack smiles through her leftover tears and nods. 

Going home is exactly what she needs.

- - - & - - -

Back in New York 10 days later, Mack sits on the familiar espresso brown couch in David’s living room. The leather is cool beneath her leggings as falling snow drifts down in icy, zigzag swirls through the black night.

20 minutes.

In 20 minutes, David should walk through that apartment door.

Butterflies dive in Mack’s stomach, threatening to send her to the bathroom to spill the contents of her light dinner. She ate a salad from the market down the street, but half of it is discarded in the kitchen trash. Every time she started to chew the limp greens, her mouth filled with saliva while her stomach twisted painfully. She can’t remember a time she was this nervous, especially about David.

Mack brings her hands up to her hair, collecting the long brown strands into a pony tail at the top of her head. She sighs heavily, checking her phone again. Only a minute has passed. She calculates the exact timing she thinks she can expect David from the airport. The team has been on a road trip since right after she fled the city. His plane already touched down from what Mack could track off the itinerary he had forwarded to her before their demise. 

Her arrival in New York is planned, though later than she really wanted it to be. David left not long after she did for a road trip. The thought of returning home and him not being here made it too painful. So Mack hung around Switzerland with her parents. She visited Sophie at school, who clearly knew not to ask about David. She drank way too much German beer and ate too many baked goods. In the midst of all that, she thought about David the entire time. During those long days, Mack had held her phone in her hand so many times to call him, but each time doubt had her closing out the phone app before she could, especially when he never called her. Silly of her to expect that, she knows, but it felt like more confirmation of her consequences.

Mack inhales nervously when she hears the key in the lock. She looks towards the door, watching the lock flip, then the door handle turn. She stays sitting cross legged on the couch as he opens the door. He walks in wearing black dress pants and coat, a white shirt and a dark gray tie loosened from around his throat. He wheels in his black, hard cover luggage with his duffle bag on top.

He is looking down at his hand where he juggles his keys, wallet and phone. The phone screen has lit up against his fingers and she can see it’s the same picture of them from Christmas morning a few weeks ago. She is silent as he walks over to the bowl on the skinny entry room table that collects his things. There, he sees her purse resting too. Next to it, he finds her corn cob key chain in the bowl. He stares at it, then looks over his shoulder to where she is on the couch. 

Tears blur him as her throat swells with a lump. She practiced this moment at least fifty times on the long plane ride over here. But now that he is in front of her, Mack can’t find the will to speak. He looks tired and worn out- exhausted even- as his green eyes soak her in like dry land after a steady rain. And the words that Mack came up with on the plane don’t seem like enough. There is nothing she can say to him to make up for what she’s done to them. 

“Hi baby.” He greets her tenderly. 

“Oh.” She croaks out.

Mack covers her face with her hands and collapses forward, immediately sobbing. She hears the clattering of items into porcelain and the roll of a bag being placed off to the side. Then she feels the big hands of her man wrap around her body. They lift her easily into his lap as David settles himself into the couch cushion behind him. One hand is wrapped around her hips, pressing her into him while the other cradles her head to his chest.

“I’m so sorry.” She sobs. 

“It’s okay.” 

“It’s not okay!!!” She wails. 

“It is. Because you’re here now. You came home to me. Nothing else matters.” Mack fists the lapels of his coat, breathing him in, letting him take over her senses. She has been back in New York for hours, but now she is home.

“I’m so sorry.” She whispers again, shaking in his embrace from both remorse and relief.

"I know. You got scared."

“Damn it, don’t be so understanding.” He’s totally already forgiven her. Mack can feel it in his touch that the second he saw her it was all resolved. 

"We're okay, honey.” Mack winds her fingers up his chest to his neck, tangling in the hair at the base. David turns, kissing her forehead. Mack focuses on his lips plumped on her skin, willing herself to say some of the words she thought of on the plane.

“You’re right. I was really scared and I freaked out.” She inhales deeply, trying to stop the croaking of her voice so she can speak clearly. “I should have told you that. You would have understood.”

“Yeah.” He acknowledges then grabs her chin so her face is primed for him to kiss. It’s achingly beautiful and brimmed with love. Their greedy lips soak up the taste of their lovers without the desire to pull apart for air. Mack’s tongue laps at David’s as she hoists herself closer to him. His palms press harder into her until not even lint could slide between their bodies. When they pull apart, David groans in relief.

“I went home.” Mack blurts, suddenly finding her voice. 

“I know. Lucie told me.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t.” His lips purse and he laughs a bit.

“I knew you wouldn’t. You were long gone the second that door shut behind you.” 

“I-"

“Baby, we can talk in the morning, but I am dead tired right now. Just come to bed with me.”

Mack would do anything he asked of her right now, as long as they are doing it together.

In bed, after stripping naked and collapsing into each other’s arms, David’s hands run down her back to her ass. He pulls her flush with him then uses her cheeks to raise her left breast to his lips. He sucks her deep into his mouth as a few fingers slide against her entrance from behind. 

Too tired to talk, but never too tired to make love to her. 

His lips work them both up into a state of arousal that needs to be cured. Between their bodies, Mack reaches for his thick cock, rubbing it through her slit as he continues to play with her nipples- one in his mouth and the other pinched by two fingers. 

“Mmm.” She grunts, then bites her lip as she pushes just his swollen head inside of her. David breaks away, needing to see her face as she fills herself with him. 

“Perfect.” He compliments her quietly as she takes him without resistance. “My perfect fucking girl.” He nips at her breast, then maneuvers himself into place. His hips give her slow, deep thrusts. 

His mouth collects her moans as he makes her come undone on his cock, like it’s like the first time all over again.

He spills into her greedily, marking her neck when he does.

Then they fall asleep curled deeper into each other than they’ve ever been before.

- - - & - - -

The next morning, a car alarm jolts Mack and David awake at the same time. David squeezes Mack tighter to him, lifting his head to pinpoint the noise. When he registers the alarm, he loosens his grip. Mack slowly opens her eyes, glancing up at him. All she can see is the underside of his chin. She runs her eyes along the waves of his growing out stubble, then tilts up to kiss along a particularly swirly patch. David hums beneath her lips. It isn’t long before David’s fingers running along her back have her falling back to sleep. When she wakes again, David is gone but the sounds of him rummaging in the kitchen float into the bedroom.

Mack pads out to join him after doing her morning routine of skin care and brushing her teeth. She stretches her arms above her head, swaying left and right to force the stretch further down her back. David looks over his shoulder, smiling at her. Mack bites her lip, taking in the deep groves of his muscular shoulders as his arms filter through his pantry. 

“We should talk.” Mack murmurs, tucking her hair behind her ear. She puts her forearms on the counter, folding her hands together.

“About what?” He asks, taking out a box of pre-made mix for waffles or pancakes. Mack stills. Is he serious?

“About me… leaving.”

“You’re back though?” He scratches at his nose, flipping the box to the back and reading the directions. “Do I have eggs?” He murmurs to himself, moving towards the fridge. He pops the doors open. “I do.” He grins back at her, wiggling his eyebrows. “Do you want waffles or pancakes?”

Mack sucks her cheeks in as he begins to bring out bowls, a whisk and measuring cups. With intention, she pushes off from the counter and comes to intercept him before he can get to the fridge for water. 

“What?” He chuckles as she weaves her arms around his waist.

“I don’t want waffles or pancakes. I want us to talk about me leaving.” David stills, eyes finding hers and tracing the brown irises. 

“Okay.” He sets the measuring cups behind her on the counter. His hands collect on her lower back and he waits expectantly. 

“I feel like you don’t want to?”

“No, not really. It’s over, ya know? You’re here.”

“Right but…” Mack trails off, staring at him, trying to find the words. She inhales to start, then stops again, clearing her throat. “I left you…” Surprisingly, David chuckles genuinely.

“Baby, you ran away from a lot of things, but you came back for me.” She stares at him. “Right?” Mack nods. “Then, again, I don’t know what else we have to talk about here.”

“I’m scared if we don’t talk more about this that it’s going to leave a big crack in our foundation.” She shakes her head slightly, looking away. 

“If you’ve got things you feel you need to say to me, go ahead. I just want you to know, before you even start, that from my perspective, everything is okay. Now and in the future.” Mack pauses, considering, then she nervously chews on her bottom lip. She swallows hard, tilting her head down to look at the hairs in the middle of his chest. He trimmed them recently, probably right after she left. She brings a hand up, stroking his pecs.

“I got scared.” She mumbles then forces her teeth into her bottom lip again to stop from crying. “I got scared that some organization’s decision could wreck my whole life. I still don’t think I’m cut out for relationships, but I love you so much, it’s like there is nothing I wouldn’t try for you. That scared me too. That I want to be here in New York. That I don’t want to go on long assignments that take me away from here for weeks at a time. That I feel this pull to come home when New York was never supposed to be home for me.” 

“You’ve changed everything for me.” She continues. “Not because you asked for it to change or forced me into anything. It’s just happened. And I woke up a few weeks ago with all this news and chatter and you wouldn’t talk to me and…” He brushes his thumbs under her eyes to collect her tears. “That wasn’t wrong of you, but suddenly I was thinking about moving to Dallas with you. And getting a place together because that makes more sense than having two places, if I was going to move to another state with you. And do they have an international airport close by? Or do I have to do multiple flights and it was too much. My life no longer was mine. It was completely consumed by someone else.” 

David says nothing, but his eyebrows pull tight together. His hands grip her hips harder, pulling her in more so they’re completely pressed together.

“I was in fight or flight. And I told myself that you deserved so much better than this. So much better than someone who had one foot out the door the first time something goes wrong. So the old habits that die hard, hit harder than ever before, and I was packing my bag the second you left for lunch with Connor. I felt like I was drowning and exploding all at the same time. I couldn’t stop the spiral to think about who that person was that had filled my life up. Or rationalize with myself about how lonely and unhappy I was before you. You have changed everything, but it’s been for the better.” She closes her eyes, letting the tears stream down for him to catch again. 

“When you came home while I was packing…” She shudders, trying not to sob. “I anticipated you would do so many things, but not that you would tell me to go. It was like I wanted you to tell me to stay, but then you told me to go. And I’m stubborn as hell so I did.”

“Mack, I couldn’t ask you to stay. I need things too and I needed you to stay without me telling you to. I won’t hold you back. I won’t tether you down or clip your wings. You are free to choose. And when you came back last night, you choose me. That’s all I need to move past all this. I just hope you keep choosing me… Forever.”

It’s the boldest David has ever been with his plans for them. Forever. Mack gnaws her bottom lip, causing it to plump and redden. 

“Forever?” She repeats. 

“Mhm.” He mumbles into her lips. He kisses her deeply, fusing her lips with his until she has to gasp for another breath. “You gonna run if I let go of you?” The deep smirk on his lips makes her understand he is joking.

“No!” She laughs, slapping his chest. “God, of course you’re already joking about this.” He runs a hand down her hip to her ass, giving it a healthy squeeze. He levels her with a serious stare, then kisses her again.

“Waffles or pancakes?” 

“Waffles.” She decides immediately. 

“Chocolate chips or strawberries?”

“Both?”

“Yessss. I was hoping you would say that.” He kisses her nose, then releases her to grab the other two ingredients. “Hey, we are going to Connor and Lucie’s tonight for dinner.” Mack stares back at David with an anxious, wide-eyed expression.

“I haven’t talked to Lucie yet.” She admits. That is definitely a conversation she is still avoiding.

“Nice.” David chuckles. “What could possibly go wrong?”

- - - & - - -

“Heeeee-YAH! MACK!” Lucie’s smile fades instantly when she sees her younger sister. “Nice.” She snaps at her, crossing her arms and blocking the doorway.

“I saw mom and dad in Switzerland. They say hi… I-I have chocolate for Stell!” Mack tries to smooth her sister’s angry scowl immediately.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Lucie snarls in Swiss German. “Get in here.” She wraps a hand around her wrist then tugs her into a hug. “You scared the shit out of me and I’m fucking pregnant!”

“I’m sorry, Luc.” Mack closes her eyes, squeezing her older sister tightly. The pregnancy is not a surprise at all to her considering last time she saw Lucie. “Congratulations. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You hurt him.” Mack nods then steps out from their hug. 

“I know.” Mack whispers back. Lucie sighs, then steps around her to hug David.

“Go easy on my girl, Luc.” David murmurs to Lucie but looks at Mack while he says it. 

“Welcome home, Mack.” Connor murmurs from behind her. He tosses an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side. Mack looks up at him. “You two good?” He motions between her and David. They both nod. “Then this group is good too.” He says decidedly. “Now tell me about this chocolate you brought for Stell. She has a dad tax to pay, even on gifts.”

They all laugh then move further into the apartment. Lucie and Connor go back into the kitchen together. Mack knows her and Lucie will discuss more later, when it's just the two of them. She'll cross that bridge when they get there.

David puts a hand on the small of Mack’s back to guide her into the living room. Stella is bouncing between various activities in the living room, but stops everything and dives at Mack for a hug. Mack smooches her cheeks, then allows her past to David. 

“What are we playing tonight, Stelly?” He asks her. 

Mack knows exactly why she ran. 

But this right here, is exactly why she never will again.

Read more Mack and David here.

[multifandomworldsposts]

Day 24 of Kinktober: Saved By Superman

pairing: Clark Kent x fem!reader

warning: abduction, eating out, oral sex, unprotected sex

10 YEARS AGO (Y/N’s POV)

I’m in American History 1 and hell, the questions on our assignment is soo confusing like, when did JFK got assassinated and when did Nixon resign, like I don’t know these questions and our teacher makes no sense on what we’re learning about. Clark is in the same class and he would help me on what the questions are about and what our tests are going to have.

At some point Clark and I were study partners and thanks to him, I passed American History! Ever since then Clark and I have been friends and we would tell each other about anything about our personal lives and we would do anything together, but a lot of people from school would say that we’re dating but we’re not.

Eventually, we separate because I go to Kansas University for a photography degree, which is far away from Smallville and we lost contact with each other.

PRESENT TIME

I begin to wash my dishes and I see on my TV that there’s another unusual event happened today, of course, but I see a hero saving the person from the building, why does he looks familiar? They show the hero and it’s Clark? I never knew that he’s, Superman? What’s going on?

I drive back to my hometown, Smallville, and what’s happening? I see this figure approaching my car but it’s flying? The hell? I blackout.

I wake up at some room that I’ve never seen or been into before. I hear something or someone walking towards me, I look where I hear the noise and it’s someone in a costume.

“Who are you?” I question.

“I can ask you the same thing.” The voice said back.

I try to move around but I’m tied up with chains? I want to get the hell out of here.

“Can I at least get a name from you?” I said to the voice.

“Zod.” The voice answered.

Zod? I don’t know who that is. He walked up and I immediately realized that he went to the same high school as Clark and me, I remember he was a little weird and many kids made fun of him.

“You know who I am now?” He says.

“Now I do. Why do you want me here?” I asked.

“To get answers.” His voice changed.

“Okay? What?”

“Who is Superman?” He says.

“I don’t know, I really don’t.” I answer.

“You know! You used to be buddies with him.” He said.

“What?” I ask.

“Don’t lie to me!” He approaches to my face.

“I’m not lying.” I confess.

He backs up to give me some space. I can tell he thinks I’m still lying. He eventually went upstairs and I hear the door locking, I want to leave so fucking bad!

One day, I hear noises upstairs and I hear the door opening. Someone running downstairs and it’s Clark, he looks different than the last time I ever saw him. He releases me from the chains and I hold on to him until he flies away from the room I was in.

We arrive at some house I never seen before, it’s Clark’s house, god he changed.

He lays me down on his couch.

“Thank you for saving me.” I say.

“Anytime for a friend.” He smiles.

He gets some medicine to help the swelling and wounds on my wrists to heal.

“I never knew that you’re Superman, Clark.” I said looking at him.

“I’ve been my whole life.” He said wrapping elastic bandage on my wrists.

“You never told me that ever in high school Clark.” I say holding my hands still.

“I thought you would tell people.” He said softly.

“You know me, I would never do that in the history of our friendship Clark, you know I wouldn’t.” I confess.

He knows I’m telling the truth.

Eventually, we talked about what’s been going on in our lives recently.

“How’s your mom?” I ask.

“She talks about you still.” He says.

“She misses you.” He smiled.

“Really? I haven’t seen her in so long.” That’s so sweet.

After that conversation, we talked about other things, such as, who we dated when we separated.

“Did you ever dated anyone while I was gone?” I question.

“Never.” He replied.

“I highly doubt that Clark. A bunch of girls threw themselves at you and gave me death threats.” I said.

“I never dated anyone Y/N and I remember those death threats, I know some of them are married or still dating someone.” He smirks.

“You know I, actually had a crush on someone in high school.” I look down and look up at Clark.

“Who? Come on Y/N/N, I can see you blushing.” He says egging me on.

“You.” I gulped.

“Me? Why’s that?” He says.

“Ever since you helped me with homework and all.” I confess.

“Really? I kinda did as well." He confesses.

I blush. I can't believe this. we both had crushes on each other since we met.

He leans into kiss me, and I kiss him back. I tug on his hair but I wince by my wrists. Clark picks me up to take us to his bathroom, he sets me on the counter and starts the water from the tub, I try to take my clothes off but Clark stops me to take my clothes off instead, he picks me up again to put me in tub. The water felt so good. Clark takes his shirt off, he’s definitely changed. He comes in the tub with me and makes me get closer to him and kisses me again.

After us in the tub Clark washed me off but the blood and the dirt off my body, he takes us to his bed and lays me down on it, which is really comfortable.

“Try to get some sleep Y/N.” He says about to leave.

“Can you stay in here with me?” I say looking at where Clark is.

“If you want me to.” He asks.

“Please?” I say.

He lays down with me and I sleep instantly.

2 HOURS LATER

I wake up with a feeling in my clit, I look down to see Clark eating me out, I moan, when I did that Clark kept on eating me out but a little bit deeper, I gasp and I tug on his hair. He stops eating me out and starts to give me love bites near my clit, I scream again. I never imagined he’s this good.

After Clark eating me out, he comes up to face me and begins to fuck me, I scream again, he goes in and out of me but he goes faster. Our moans and grunts fills up in the room and skin slapping against each other. I’m so glad he saved me.

[toracainz]

Driver Picks the Music, Shotgun Shuts Their Cakehole

Masterlist

Summary: You and Jake decide to go on a road trip.

Warnings: Inaccurate depictions of DID (only knowledge from the show and some light research). Swearing. Established relationships. Spoilers for Case 63. References to the boys past trauma with water. Mild miscommunication. Verbal conflict due to frustration.

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: I am not fluent by any means in Spanish so if there is anything incorrect please let me know.

A/N: beta read by the wonderful @luvpedropascal and another friend that doesn’t have a tumblr lol.

A/N: this was for a fic exchange for the anniversary of Moon Knight, but as you can see I'm kind of late lol oh well! hope you enjoy!

Translations:

Mira, amor. = Look, love. Corazón = heart Mi tesoro, ¿qué pasa? = My treasure, what’s up? Cariño = Dear Dios, ¿eso es todo? = God, is that all? Lo lamento…realmente. = I’m sorry…really. Amor = love mierda = fuck Se lo juro. = I swear it. Nuestro amor. Nuestro sol. Nuestro corazón. = Our love. Our sun, our heart. luz de mi vida = light of my life

The eerie music of the podcast played in the background as the characters spoke. A man, who was apparently a doctor, talking (though he sounded just like the patient from the earlier part of the podcast) with the confused woman, a doctor herself…from the future?

“Let’s see, ‘Case 63’. It says your name is Eliza Beatrix Knight. You were admitted at 7:22 p.m. on November 24th. You were found naked at JFK airport in one of the bathrooms in Terminal 8 with paranoid ideations and confusion. You told a curious story about the end of the world in the future—“

“But the—the future??” She definitely sounded confused and a bit distressed.

“Yes, the future.” The doctor answered.

“Oh…wait. Wait. Okay. Wh—what year is it now?”

“You don’t know what year it is?”

“What year is it?” The woman repeated, a little agitated.

“It’s 2012, Ms. Knight.”

The only sound, other than the credits of the podcast, was the droning of wheels on pavement as you and Jake headed down the road. You had nearly begged Jake to listen to the podcast after you got back on the road from the last stop. You looked over to Jake, smirking as you studied his stoic, contemplative look. He suddenly let out a huff of a laugh, shifting in the driver's seat a bit.

“What?” you asked him, a little unsure of what to make of his reaction.

“That’s like…2 hours of my life I’ll never get back.”

“What?! Oh come on, you can’t be serious. That was a good show!” You insisted, mock offense on your face (though not entirely mocked).

“Mira, amor. It was…interesting, but just not my kinda thing. I mean, the guy was just bullshitting the whole time.” He shrugged, keeping hold of the steering wheel, his other elbow propped on the ledge of the window.

“Bullshitting??? Ugh, whatever. Putting it back on your old man music. Keep listening to this and I’ll have to put you in a home soon.” You teased as you reopened the music app and started his playlist. Frank Sinatra came to life in the speakers.

“‘Old man music’? These songs are classics and timeless. So are the dance moves.” He smirked glancing over at you, seeing your pout fighting off a grin. “I know you like it when I dance with you, corazón. Don’t hear you complaining then.”

“Because I have you to distract me from it.” Looking at the map on your phone, you tried to see how much further until the next stop.

You and Jake had been planning this trip for a while, just you, him, and the open road. The only thing that wasn’t accounted for, though, was Jake’s determination to pick the music, the snacks, and the places to stop. It wasn’t too obvious at first, especially when he was pointing out some pretty fun locations to go to, but it seemed like any time you made a suggestion, he would try and convince you to do something else. It was cute, with a bit of poking and some laughs about Jake being hard-headed, but the further into this trip you got, the more it started to bother you. Looking at the map, the both of you would be arriving pretty soon at the last motel before making the last trek to the final destination on the trip “itinerary”, Antelope Canyon.

~*~*~*~

Weeks Earlier

After you had mentioned going on a road trip, Jake took it upon himself to check out potential places and possible things to do there. Nothing had been discussed in earnest yet, but Jake's (and his headmates’) curiosity got the better of them. Vegas was discussed, San Francisco, and the Rocky Mountains, among other potential options. It wasn’t until Marc suggested the Grand Canyon that things really started rolling. Jake had in his mind that the Grand Canyon, while grand was honestly boring. He hadn’t expected Steven to agree with him, so the three began to look at other locations.

That’s when they found it. Antelope Canyon. Now that was a destination.

Steven offered to do the research since he actually enjoyed reading endless pages of websites or books, but Jake insisted that he would take care of everything. Looking through hiking reservations and things to do in the area around the canyon, Jake had started to really enjoy planning it all. He just knew you’d be excited for it all.

That is…until he read an article about some of the facts about the canyon and its geography. According to the article, the canyon was prone to flooding. Seeing that word made his blood run cold and his heart begin to pound. When he noticed his hand clenched tightly into a fist he had to consciously relax it. It was fairly understandable that if it rained in the area of the canyon then of course water collected, but the part that worried him and his headmates was that it could be dry in the canyon but rain elsewhere, and the canyon could still have a flash flood. There had even been ladders installed in the canyon for people to grab onto and climb to higher ground. At first, they were wooden, but those broke all too easily. They've since been replaced with metal ladders. Plenty of people had lost their lives to this all too familiar force of nature.

Once Jake learned about this, he began looking heavily into the weather of the area and the best time to go. Planning for the driest possible month that he could and making sure the projected weather was clear as it could be. Jake’s not delusional by any means, he knows that weather can be unpredictable so far in advance, but he had to try. Jake started to check the weather religiously to make sure things would work in his favor. He wasn’t taking any chances, wasn’t going to put the system in danger, and definitely wasn’t going to pull you along with them. He wouldn’t let that happen…not again.

So it was settled. Route. Destination. Activities. And the window of time they had to arrive.

~*~*~*~

Present

You both had been talking about taking a road trip for a while now and it wasn’t until a week or so ago that the two of you started talking and planning in earnest. Jake was the one that picked the route since he insisted on driving the whole way, but to your surprise, he also picked the destination -  even going as far as to look at weather reports for the times that you two would be there. That left you to pick the snacks and the fun touristy stops along the way, giant rubber band ball-type attractions, that’s what road trips are all about right? Hearing you get excited by each new place you found along Jake’s route gave him the softest and warmest smile. This was how every night was spent leading up to the trip, you and him sitting on the couch, your legs over his, or laying in bed, his arm around you and getting giggly from all the excitement, an extended trip with your partner, your Jake.

What you didn’t know, and what you’ve rarely seen, was how Jake was stealing glances at you. He wasn’t exactly the talkative one in the relationship, but he didn’t mind, not when he could just observe and admire your energy. The smile on his face was content like waking up at your own pace in a comfy, warm bed. These simple moments were what Jake enjoyed most, these mundane, everyday moments. He never asked for much and he never needed much, so when he found you and you decided that you would give him your love, well that was all he could have ever asked for.

~*~*~*~

Pulling into the motel parking lot, the silence that Jake thought was comfortable was not so for you. Stewing away at how nitpicky Jake was being, how he was nearly dictating what you both did on the trip with almost no regard to what you wanted. You knew it wasn’t because he was trying to be mean.  Jake liked to have control of situations. Having control meant a certain level of safety, and that’s just how his mind worked, protecting himself, protecting the system…protecting you. What you couldn’t understand was why. What sort of danger could come from the wrong kind of chip or soda being bought at the gas station?

You both grabbed your bags from the trunk and went into the room, starting each of your nightly routines…still, in silence, save for the small T.V.  that had been turned on to some local news station. Then Jake chimed in on what side of the bed he would be sleeping on. You didn’t need him to tell you. You knew he would take the side closest to the window and door, that’s the side he always took.

“I know what side you sleep on. You don’t have to tell me!” you snapped not too unkindly. Funny how the bed would be the final straw. Jake stepped out of the bathroom. He was only half undressed as he was getting ready to shower (he thought showering with you, but the tone in your voice had him second-guessing).

“Mi tesoro, ¿qué pasa? If you want to skip the shower that’s fine, babe, just say so.” He fixed you with a confused look.

“Oh? So that I can decide?”

“Cariño, what are you saying? I don’t play head games, get it out. Start making sense or I’m go–”

“This whole trip…the whole trip, you have been so picky about everything. Where we stop, where we don’t stop, what snacks to get, where to stay and almost every time I suggest something you shoot it down. If it’s not your way it’s the highway is that it?” That was one thing that you were happy for in your relationship with Jake, and it certainly took some time to get to this point. Jake was right, he didn’t like playing head games. He didn’t like the whole “you should know what’s wrong” bit. He was never fully open about his own feelings, but clear communication? He was a staunch advocate. He wanted to know what was wrong, what was right, how he could meet you in the middle, all of it.

Hearing this outburst, his muscles tensed ever so slightly, his jaw tensing more. Jake tossed his shirt on the bed as he came over to his duffel bag, grabbing his toiletries bag, and starting back into the bathroom. “I’ve been picky. Picky. Dios, ¿eso es todo? And that’s what’s got you all worked up, just because I’m picky.”

“Just because. Worked up. This was supposed to be a fun trip and it is, it was! But damn it, Jake, it’s not fun for me when you can’t let go for two seconds. Nothing’s going to happen if we stop at some honey farm or a fruit stand or a fucking huge ball of twine!” The floodgates open, as you let out the building frustration from the past couple of days. It felt good to get it out, so it wasn’t buzzing around in your head any longer. Jake had been leaning against the bathroom counter, shoulders tense and hunched as he looked at himself in the mirror. You don’t know if Marc or Steven has anything to say about your outburst, if he’s listening to them, and right now that’s the least of your concerns.

You could see his jaw flexing and clenching as the gears were turning in his head, trying to come up with something to say.

“You want me to let go? Want me to just let things happen? Fine,” he threw his hands up. “Yeah, I’ll let go as soon as you learn some restraint. Think you can handle that for one more day? Hmm? You knew what you were getting into when you looped me into whatever you want to call this relationship.” He looked at you in the reflection as he grabbed what he needed and went to finally get in the shower.

“Fine. Sounds fantastic. Maybe tomorrow you can work on getting the stick out of your ass and actually enjoy the hike instead of worrying if a lizard’s going to be within thirty feet of us. Yeah, enjoy your shower.” You huff, going and sitting on the bed to watch T.V. while you wait for your turn with the shower. Flipping through the channels didn’t produce anything worth watching so you settled on the news again. Sometimes on the trip, you and Jake would shower together, make out, actually bathe, or both, and just enjoy those little moments. That was not in the plans tonight and you weren’t even sure how the bed situation would work tonight, there being only one, probably not a lot of cuddling.

Relationships have their rocky moments, that’s to be expected to some degree, but talking to each other and coming to an understanding…maybe once you both cool off you can have a more constructive conversation. Until then, you both needed some time to let the emotions come down from their boil, maybe on the drive tomorrow you two could talk, sort things out, otherwise it was going to be a long trip back to New York.

Jake eventually got out of the shower, curls wet and slicked back, and only in his underwear. You were upset with him, so stop looking at him like that…with all his muscles and tan skin and inky curls that started to spring back from their slicked state. You tried to shake it off as you got off the bed without a word to go for your own shower. Jake watched you go and once he heard the water start he sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands as he and his headmates tried to help come up with a way to salvage the trip. Sounds like partly cloudy days in the future.

~*~*~*~

That morning, after a not-so-pleasant night of sleeping as far away from each other as possible, though you're certain at some point in the night you could feel a strong hand gently caressing your shoulder, the two of you packed your things and got back on the road. It wasn’t much further to Antelope Canyon so the drive wasn’t terrible. It was certainly quiet though.

As Jake pulled into a parking space, he was the first to break the silence, gently grabbing your arm, stopping you as you started to get out of the car. When you look back at him it all started to flare up again. He’s stopped you from getting out of the car, decided things for you. You don’t mean to be on edge, it all just feels so raw.

“Lo lamento…realmente.” He says withdrawing his hand, holding it up to show he’s not keeping you, he only meant to get your attention, “We can talk about it on the hike, I just…I wanted to say it now. Before we get out there. I’m not expecting you to forgive me just because I said “I’m sorry”, I know I’m not the easiest person to live with, just ask Marc and Steven…” he paused, not entirely sure what else he could say. He really felt he was difficult to live with and he knew that his hypervigilance could get overbearing, but that’s something he intended to work on.

You listened to him, still feeling that boiling frustration, knowing that he meant it, he always means it. Jake clenched his fist, resting it against the gearshift trying to put the words together. “Let’s get out there…” He nodded, more to himself, gently hitting the gearshift with the side of his fist before getting out of the car to get the backpacks. While you grabbed yours Jake headed over to the information kiosk for maps, a weather radio, and to check in for the hike

~*~*~*~

It’s kind of amazing how being in a place like this could distract from the stresses you both came with. The smooth, waving walls of the canyon in those bright red and orange hues. It looks so ancient, mystical, alien, and absolutely breathtaking. You both were able to relax as you worked your way through trails, well you more than Jake who seemed to be clenching his jaw or muttering to himself (or Marc and Steven) a lot. Whatever it is they’re talking about, you hoped it wouldn't crop up into another argument, not when the hike had been going so well.

And that’s when it happened.

You suggested that you stop for a break, just to drink a little water, maybe eat a snack, take some pictures, or something, but Jake trudges ahead.

“We can go a little further, come on.” He said, pulling ahead now. It was as if the argument and his apology meant absolutely nothing to him. What in the hell was happening?! You never took Jake to go back on his apology or his word. Yes, the man would fib on occasion but he wouldn’t flat out lie like that…not to you.

“What? You have got to be kidding. After all that? For God’s sake, Jake you just couldn’t handle i,t could you? The whole hike you’ve been acting so uptight. Are you even enjoying this? This whole thing was your idea and now you have a look like someone just smelled the most gag-inducing stench.” You weren’t going to let it slide like you had in the car ride, you were going to call him out on it. This was your trip too and you wanted to go out and have fun. Which you were, but having a muttering cloud of gloom accompanying you was not helping.

Jake stopped, tilting his head back and looking to the sky, muttering more things (you couldn’t quite make it out, but it vaguely sounded like Spanish swearing), definitely a bit cloudy now but nothing too bad for now. Slowly, he lowered his head as he turned to look at you, regret clear on his face. “Amor, I swear this is the last time today…I uh, had looked up the trails online—just to be safe—I only meant…mierda…there’s a cool place up ahead. You've probably seen it in pictures, a beam of sunlight coming in…we can break there and after that…” he makes the motion of zipping his lips, tossing away the key, and holding up his hands in surrender.

Well, that was…unexpected. The worst part was, it was a good idea. With a huff you crossed your arms, contemplating the options and the fact that he really did mean what he said…he was trying, but you were still frustrated, and maybe(?)  going to this special place meant that the whole rest of the time Jake would just lighten up and you could actually contribute to the trip.

“Fine. Yeah, fine, let’s go to this “cool place” and we’ll take a break there.” You shook your head, conceding. “But after that, you have to let me have some say, Jake—“

“I will. Se lo juro. Just thought you would like it and taking a break there you can take it all in like you do.”

He stood there waiting for you to rejoin the hike. Thankfully the place wasn’t much further, just as he said, and you looked around in awe at how nature could make such enchanting views. You were enjoying it and taking it all in, just as he said.

You both started to take off your backpacks, taking out a blanket and some snacks and drinks for the little makeshift rest stop this little place was about to become. The thing that was most mesmerizing was the beam of light in question, and yet again, he was right. You stood there drinking your water watching this marvel of nature, this beam of light so precise and almost like a sspotlight The sunlight almost looked tangible, so letting the inner kid in you come out for a little fun, you stuck your hand into the sunlight. That wonderful, imaginative part of you almost expected to feel it, well feel something other than the warmth it brought. Like it should have been hard like a stone column or fluid yet weighty like a stream or waterfall.

“Alright, I’ll give it to you. This is a really cool place to rest for a bit. Sorry for blowing up like that again. If you know any more places like this we should stop at, let’s make a plan okay? Together. We’re supposed to be enjoying the hike right? Just like you s—“

When you turned to look at him, you were met with a sight that that imaginative part of you was absolutely not expecting.

Jake.

Down.

On one knee.

Holding a small, velvet-covered box.

You didn’t know what to do, so you just gaped at the sight. Nerves were clear on his face as he opened the little box.

“Nuestro amor. Nuestro sol. Nuestro corazón. I know now that I wasn't being fair to you on this trip and I truly am sorry. You’ve put up with me, with Marc, and Steven when we were absolutely not the easiest to put up with. You accepted us, all of us, and everything that comes with being with someone like us…and we couldn’t be more thankful to have such a patient, loving, and strong partner. Because God knows you have to be strong to have to deal with three grown man-children.” Jake chuckles breathily, hoping the joke would help his nerves (it didn’t), not until he heard you chuckle too. The corner of his mouth quirks slightly, letting that little moment of levity give him the breathing room for what was about to come next.

“Will you marry us?”

You stood there still stunned, but now tears were trickling down your cheeks. Yeah, there was a lot to deal with, mostly due to their collective tempers and vastly different ways of doing things among other quirks…but you weren’t perfect, not by a long shot. There were plenty of things you did or said that they had to put up with too. But that’s the beauty of it, right? People are flawed. They mess up. They find someone to love them and they grow together…to work at being together, because it’s not easy, nothing in life is ever easy…but loving them…even after every argument, disagreement, or misplaced frustration…that was easy. How could you not?

You stepped closer to Jake. The last of the system that you met and once you had, everything just felt complete. Now, here he was before you, on behalf of himself and his headmates, asking you to love them for the rest of their lives. And you said yes…how could you not? You said yes again, nodding your head as he came to his feet, a nervous smirk blooming into an ecstatic grin as he plucked the ring from its box and slipped it on your finger.

It was a simple silver band with three diamonds set into it…one for each of them. You held up your trembling hand to admire it, your heart thrumming with what it represented. Looking at Jake, you wrapped your arms around him, as he did the same to you, your lips meeting each other. So much love and passion shared between you. It felt too soon when you both pulled away to catch your breath. When you looked into his eyes you saw his own tears threatening to slip away and down his cheeks, and you also saw the tenderness and deep love that he and his headmates shared for you.

After another kiss (and another), you both stand there in the beauty of the moment.

“I love you,” you finally say.

“I love you too, luz de mi vida. Like you wouldn’t believe. So much, that I made sure to plan as much of the trip as I could to try and make it memorable…turns out I made it exhausting and should have just had you help plan it.” Jake couldn’t wipe the smile from his face if he tried, you said yes and now you had the rest of your lives to plan more trips.

“Definitely should have consulted me. I have a keen sense for adventure, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“And we have plenty of time to plan trips, annoy each other, love each other…and on the ride back, we will be having the best adventure.” You smile wide before Jake leans in, giving you another kiss which you happily reciprocate.

“I can’t wait.”

A/N: Antelope Canyon has a tendency to flood. This can apparently happen even if the rain occurred miles away. The boys were not only nervous about the proposal but also flooding, hence the weather research, monitoring, and radio.

taglist: @spacecowboyhotch @marc-spectorr @juneknight @mccn-bcys

[chowplanet]

I usually try not to rant here, but right now, I'm fuming all because dumb people think Prince Harry is not King Charles' son. Now I'm seeing people don't think JFK jr was JFK's son. Mind you JFK jr looks like his father JFK sr. when he was a toddler. If you look at junior's toddler photos you could see he has jfk's eyebrows and nose. It all changed up once he got older. Jfk jr natural hair color is not even that dark to be Onassis guy or the Gianni A.'s child. His natural color hair looks a bit dark brown hair and light brown hair. It even looks like it got some blonde in it. We all know JFK's natural color hair was mixed between brown and red hair. JFK Jr's mouth area resembles JFK's. Those two both have lazy eyes as well and the same eyes shaped. His teeth are also similar to his dad. Also the hairline and forehead area have a striking resemblance. Junior's body shape looks like his father’s. Only thing is junior worked put more. JFK couldn't work out a lot due to his back injuries. Both the father and the son have the same ears and head shape. Junior's face is a bit longer, but it is similar to his uncles Ted Kennedy and Joe Kennedy jr and his grandfather Joe Kennedy sr. He also looks like his grandfather Jackie's father. I know you guys are questioning how did JFK jr came out looking a little darker compare to his father. It is because Jackie and her paternal side of the family are dark. When both him and his sister Caroline were teenagers their facial structure were very similar. JFK himself appearances changed through out the years before he got assassinated. He was on multiple medications due to his injuries and his sickness. So one of the side effects made his face look bloated and his eyes Puffy looking. You have to go by his photos from when he was in his teens, 20s, and 30s to see a difference. Also RFK, JFK, RFK jr, JFK, and JFK's grandson all have this hair chest trail that goes all the way down to their belly button. So my point is here. Stop the bullcr*p. Stop making it seem Jackie was some kind of a "thot" that was hooking up with random while she was married to JFK. That Onassis guy was a short guy. JFK jr is tall just like his dad JFK. So again quit the bullcr*p.

I also want you guys to stop playing on Princess Diana's name while she is still dead. Prince Harry does not look nothing like that bodyguard y'all claim to be his real daddy. They don't even have the same facial structure. The only thing they have in common is the red hair, but Diana's brother is a redhead and Prince Phillip, Harry's grandfather was a red head. Prince Harry looks like his grandfather if you search young Prince Phillip's photos. As Harry is getting older he looks exactly like his father Charles. Those two even have the same "eyes to close" in the center of their faces. I can not believe people can not see the resemblance. Leave the Kennedys alone. They have been through enough.

[unabashedmoonlight]

Ranking favourite comic characters

Winner: Allison Hargreeves

Purple Hair. Can manipulate reality. Five calls her omnipotent. Might have altered reality to become the most beautiful girl in the world. Lost custody of her daughter and fought with her husband to be able to give her a dollhouse. Messy. Definitely did alter reality when she was 29 and made it one where Luther had wanted to kiss her since they were 12 to ensure that he saves her on this mission (I need to go back to my daughter, keep me safe). Seems to actually like him that way. (Fuck you Reginald.) Problematic. Was almost cannibalised as a child. As a teenager, watched her clone getting brutally murdered by the serial killer her dad hired because she dared to sneak out to date. She definitely was the target. Drags a paralysed Viktor (hasn't transitioned yet in comics but still) by his wheelchair to show him the damage he caused because he had lost his memories. Loses her powers/voice for a good while. Grace definitely thinks she is fake, indirectly calls her out often. Has a bonding experience with a now memory-less Viktor. Tries to fix things.

HANDS DOWN HER DALLAS ARC.

Her and Klaus' sibling bond>>

Glimpse: She was the only person he called back home after getting kicked out in ylld to tell her how delicious the snacks outside were and that she should definitely try them.

Says "Darling, I am a haunted house" to a random shopkeeper when he is scared due to her using her powers to summon a random item in his shop. As emo as Gerard.

POSES AS JFK'S WIFE AND EXPLODES HIS HEAD USING HER POWERS.

Was willing to let Five's mother get killed before giving birth to him (commission shenanigans) until she found out Luther and Five are twins.

[bluetomorrows]

Clone High: It's About the Contrast

Something I've seen a lot of is Clone High S2 redesigns. People taking the new characters of S2 of Clone High and changing the designs, usually cause they don't like what we did get. Some of these are neat. I saw one that tries to combine their new designs with their S1 designs from when these characters were incidentals. A lot of them seem to take the personality out of the design. Most of them look hard to animate, but that isn't the point I'm trying to make.

People seem to really dislike these new designs. There are valid design reasons (some are a bit overdesigned, and they definitely clash with the S1 designs) but it just seems people are mad at them in concept. Especially Harriet Tubman. How could they turn Harriet Tubman into... this?

It's outrageous! And yeah, it is. It's supposed to be. That's the joke. In the 20 years since Season 1, the Clone High Fandom has grown and shipped and gossiped and a lot of people have forgotten that the incongruity of the characters is part of the joke. Joan of Arc was not in fact a goth girl who constantly thirsts over tall men. The same goes for several other characters.

Harriet Tubman isn't Harriet Tubman. She shares her DNA but she is decidedly a different person. That's the point of Clone High, the show is less about historical figures interacting in a high school setting and more about how these people might be if they were raised under different circumstances. Ideologically, Clone High is an argument against great man theory.

Gandhi changed the world. But when he isn't born and raised in British controlled India under very specific circumstances, he's just some guy. The same goes for Cleopatra, JFK, Joan of Arc,, Jesus Christ, and yes, even Confucius, Frida Kahlo, and Harriet Tubman. It's circumstances that create people, not people making the circumstances.

Imagine if you had the chance to have a conversation with the real Harriet Tubman. What do you think she would say? How would she act? I'm sure she'd probably be an interesting and nice person, but she wouldn't be a character fit for a wacky animated sitcom. You don't really expect former slaves to be bubbly like that.

It both literally and metaphorically takes the basic DNA of these figures and subverts and modifies their existence through modern society, or rather the tropes of teen dramas. Not just asking what would happen if these people were in high school but if they were ordinary people. Instead of being a hero whose life is in danger, Harriet Tubman is a girl who gossips and whose biggest worry is becoming a basic bitch.

Look at the S2 finale. The board of shadowy figures have assembled their great men and put them in competition. They'll weed out the best of the best to become the great men of the future. And out of about 100 clones, only one actually makes it to the end. Everyone else fails. The one clone who does make it, Joan, is born again into extreme circumstances. Being left for dead by her friends and suffering a psychic break. There is no such thing as great men, just extraordinary situations.

I think this theme of subverting these legendary figures is something that should be kept in mind when talking about the show. It isn't really a show about historical figures, just historically-themed characters. And that's okay. It's very funny when done well! It's a cartoon and it really acts like it. It was never asking to be taken as a serious drama and definitely wasn't asking to be a commentary on historical figures. It simply parodied its contemporary teen dramas a little too well and we got invested in joke characters and everything changed. The S2 writers were in a very unenviable place, and I applaud them for taking things in bold new directions. If you haven't watched S2 or even just watched a few episodes, I'd recommend giving it another chance. It's not perfect but it gets better as it continues. It has its own distinct feel and style while still understanding what "the point" of the original was.

Also Kahlopatra for life ❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜

[freakshowtwopointoh]

I Won't Pretend That I Won't Miss This

Jordan stared at the offer letter like it was their death warrant. Six months ago it had been everything they wanted. But everything changed in six months so why did they have to get this job now? Different parts of themself pulling in different directions, pulling so hard they might actually become two people with the intensity.

UCLA. R&D intern for a Vought subsidiary. Brink had pulled a few strings for them, wrote a killer recommendation, and they wrote a stellar essay. At the time, they were sure they would get the job. This was the first time they hated being right.

The small voice in the back of their head, the golden butterfly of hope, reminded them that they could make it work. That plenty of people managed long distance relationships, and that the internship was only 9 months long. And then they thought about watching Marie walk away from them at the fucking JFK departure lane and the ache in their chest was enough to cause them to shift involuntarily. They thought about how her voice doesn’t sound quite right through the phone. How her eyes don’t shine as bright through a camera lens. And how hard it was to fall asleep without her next to them. 

The louder, darker voice in their head reminded them that she probably wouldn’t want to wait for them anyways. It’s one thing when they live just a few buildings away from each other, but multiple time zones? She would be going to sleep around their dinner time - if they were even out of work. They would be waking up when she was already in classes. When they imagined making their way through the UCLA campus, there was that sickening lurch in their stomach as they realized she wouldn’t be in any crowd. They would be alone again.

And it would be selfish of them to even ask her to wait for them. This is college, and she’s just starting. They’d be limiting her, hurting her, by asking her to put in all that time and effort for them. But if they were truly honest, it was cowardice. They didn’t think they would be able to stomach it if she rejected them. She was truly going places. She had this ease about her, an earnestness to her that drew people to her like the sun. She was a true star - and they were never going to break out of the background.

They didn’t hear Marie come in, but they felt her stand next to them, forcibly unfurling their tightly clenched fist to hold their hand. She didn’t say anything, just stood there holding their hand until they realized tears were falling from their eyes onto the offer letter, which they hadn’t stopped staring at since they opened it. 

“So. What’s our next move?” They had to push her away. She deserves so much more than them. 

“This was fun, Moreau, but I think-”

“Are you serious?” She snapped, cutting them off. “If you think I’d rather lose you than wait nine months, you are actually an idiot.”

“I-” They went to argue with her again, but her eyes made it clear she wasn’t interested in dealing with their shit.

“If you actually want to end things now, go ahead. But I can feel your heart pounding, Jor. And nine months is nothing.”

“You could have a whole ass child during that time.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a half ass child, but I guess it’s possible.” That got a chuckle out of them, in spite of everything. “Stop trying to protect me from yourself, Jordan. You’re not as dangerous as you think you are. I’m not afraid of loving you.”

Afraid? Of loving Marie?

“I’m afraid of losing you, Marie!” They yelled, unsure of what she was accusing them of. Did she think they were afraid of loving her? No. They were afraid of losing her, they were afraid of hurting her, but loving her? That was as easy as breathing. But breathing wasn’t always easy, was it. Like now, the fear corrodes the love until their breath is tangled in their tongue and nothing makes sense anymore. 

“Isn’t that the same thing?” She spits back. They don’t have a response to that. They’re glaring at the letter again, as if that would help anything. Marie breaks the silence again.

“Just... love me anyways.” She said softly. “I’m scared of losing you too, baby. But don’t stop loving me just because you’re afraid of getting hurt.”

Love me anyways. Wasn’t that what true love was? Loving each other even though it might actually kill us. Facing every one of their fears would be worth it if they could be by her side, right? They finally looked at her, finally met the big brown eyes that had made them fall in love in the first place.

“I’m so fucking scared, Marie. Wh-” They were about to launch into the series of what ifs that had been plaguing them all morning when her lips met theirs and everything faded away. Their hand shook slightly as they cupped her face, trying to put as much love and courage and care into the kiss as they could. Because when she was this close to them, when their lips met, it was almost like they had never been afraid of anything in their life. When she pulled away, she met their eyes with a soft smile. “Ok. I love you, Marie. Let’s figure this out.”

So they did. They planned out when Marie would be able to fly out to UCLA. They scheduled weekly video calls. They fell asleep on the phone with Marie every night - her soft breathing becoming their own white noise as they worked into the night. They never stopped looking for her in crowds, even when they knew she wouldn’t be there. So when she surprised them at their big presentation (despite it being a couple weeks before exams) they noticed immediately and nearly cried on stage. But it was the best presentation they’d ever done. 

And when they finally landed back at JFK, ready to start their senior year with Marie by their side, the reunion was sweeter than they could have ever imagined.