#i am NOT tagging every fucking flag here sorry that is too many flag

[plurralthiing]

shes been learning a lot of things abt herself

extra ones under cut. idk maybe youll like them

[lesbianalicent]

i got tagged by @lottieurl to try and get anon hate ig 🫡

rules: share some unpopular opinions about 5 different fandoms of your choosing

gonna do yellowjackets, hotd, succession, and bc i haven't been loud about them in a while: dragon age and mass effect

yellowjackets

literally do not care about jackie outside of her relationship to shauna sorry. like i love her role in the story but like as a character i'm just like. ok forgettable. she served her purpose. any time i see fics where she survives i'm like you are so fucking boring oh my god. also i have been known to enjoy shaunajackie on occasion but i really do think they're super overhyped. like what the show has currently is perfect for me. yes girl haunt the narrative! i also find misty deeply boring and i'm sick to death of jeff and coach ben.

i really enjoyed the 1996 storyline in s2 but the 2021 storyline was soooo dumb on so many levels and the pacing was terrible. too much focus on walter and jeff and the adam shit at the expense of everyone else and it's such a waste of talent tbh. also where tf is simone and sammy.

hotd

had no opinion on daemon until the targ stans started being themselves and now every time i see him i see red, which is especially annoying because he is essential to rhaenyra's entire character and the rhaenicents who claim otherwise are bonkers like guys c'mon now.

team black vs team green is stupid as fuck. moralizing asoiaf in general is just so, so stupid.

l*cemond's popularity is just misogyny plain and simple. you are all nuts. leave that poor actor alone.

alicent is a lesbian.

succession

greg should've been written out in season 3 if not earlier he did not serve a purpose in season 4 and the fact that nic braun got an emmy nom had me doing deep breathing exercises to try and calm down.

dragon age

people whose three canon romances are alistair, anders, and cullen are immediate red flags.

i think dao is genuinely the only good game out of the three. dai has extremely lazy storytelling and i hate here lies the abyss because it tries to play on the player's attachment to these characters instead of the inquisitor because like, why would the inquisitor give a shit about these people they've never met? they tried to pull a virmire without having the narrative weight behind it that would've actually made it juicy. it was just dumb!

speaking of mass effect, narratively the series is much much weaker than that trilogy and i think part of that is because they changed the formula with the second one and tried to make the protag like shepard and it really limited things. warden best protag.

solo queen anora and i will not budge on that. warden alistair endgame is his ideal endgame to me and leaving hawke in the fade is fine because the kirkwall gang will storm the fade to get them out if they don't get themselves out. it's hawke like, be fr.

mass effect

i'm more interested in humans than i am the aliens because i personally find earth politics way too fascinating. like yes please tell me more about the texan megapolis.

love ashley. love kaidan. you can imagine the kind of stress i am under at all times. also the space racist jokes make me want to put my head through a wall, because everyone misinterprets what ashley meant by the dog + bear convo and you too would be alarmed by the sight of an elcor.

garrus is overhyped and shakarians get on my nerves. i don't like bioware forcing liara on me. tali being straight is one of the cruelest things that bioware ever did.

andromeda was dai in space so i don't get why it flopped so hard. it was, like, fine i guess? and it had a natalie dormer asari. i could overlook cora for that.

[winter-soldier-vibes]

We Need You

Bucky x reader

Word count: 1901

Summary: Bucky comforts a reader with imposter syndrome (inability to believe that one’s success is deserved)

Warnings: imposter syndrome, low self worth/self esteem, feeling worthless, slight angst, mostly comfort

A/N: I have issues that present similarly to imposter syndrome, but I don’t experience it fully or severely. You belong and wherever you are, you fucking earned that. You worked hard to get where you are. I hope this fic can bring you some comfort, I apologize if I did not serve the topic justice. Sorry it took so long! As always, if anyone needs anything from me or just wants to talk and vent, I am ALWAYS here! <3

Tags: @buckys2thicc @buckfics @thatfangirl42 @mardema @barnesplums @bucks-bunny @stucky-on-spiderman @peggycarter-steverogers @freigeistundanderes

Add yourself to my taglist! Masterlist

------

You were calm, cool and collected. Smart, dedicated, and hard-working. You were an Avenger, one of the more valuable assets to the team with your training in hand to hand combat and knowledge of weaponry. 

At least, that’s how everyone saw you. Everyone except you. 

Every “job well done” translated to “I could’ve done better” for you. Compliments in a way felt like pity to you. Like it was all a lie or something. You could’ve been better, you didn’t think you were anything special. 

Anytime someone gave you praise you would wave it off with a small smile. Everyone saw it as you being modest, but internally you just couldn’t accept it. You couldn’t accept praise knowing you could’ve done better.

Settle for nothing less than perfection. But nobody’s perfect.

You were endlessly grateful for your team, your family, but you couldn’t help but feel like you didn’t deserve it. You had so much good in your life, but you felt like you had to keep proving yourself. 

You had everything you could ever want, but you still felt like you had to earn it. 

You thought you had done a good job at keeping it hidden. Imposter syndrome you had heard someone call it at one point. You had looked into it, realizing more and more of it resonated with you. You didn’t feel that you deserved your spot on the team, even though most of the team could agree that you were one of their best fighters. 

You were also one of the kindest people on the team, and everyone enjoyed being in your company. Again, you wrote it off as them feeling obligated to talk to you rather than them choosing to talk to you. 

Everything you thought about yourself, the degrading names you called yourself, and the way you waved off all of your achievements didn’t match up at all with the way anyone thought about you. 

It went unnoticed to most. You would put up a front, small smiles and thank you’s occasionally. There would be small side comments that you would make occasionally, but it was nothing that would cause red flags to arise. 

It’s nothing, really.

I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have done.

It’s no big deal.

No worries

That’s why I’m here I guess

Compliments were deflected. Whenever you received criticism you would internalize it even though you knew it was nothing against you. Friendly advice to improve job performance. But for you, it reinforces the thought that your performance needed to be improved.

No matter what you did, you would never be good enough. You used to chase achievements, telling yourself that if you did well enough, if you did good things, that you would feel a sense of self worth. That maybe if you achieved things you would be filled with a sense of pride.

Instead you were left feeling as though you didn’t deserve any of the recognition you received. In a way, it made you feel even more insecure.

You thought that if you accepted the praise you would seem self indulgent or boastful that if you said what your achievements were you would seem prideful. So you accepted them with a small smile and thank you. At least until people moved onto the next topic and you drop the smile when it seemed safe. When no one was watching. 

When you thought no one was watching. 

Which is how Bucky had come to notice the discomfort you had.

When he had first joined the team, he was very quiet. He did a lot of listening and observing, not wanting to speak much himself. That was understandable to anyone. So when you had been introduced to him and your skillset had been mentioned and you waved it off saying no big deal, he had noticed how you shifted as if you were uncomfortable and your smile dropped as soon as the attention was on someone else. 

He didn’t think much of it. If anything it had to do with being uncomfortable around him. 

But as time passed he started relaxing around everyone too, especially you. He was still accepting what he had done and who he was now. He was still reserved but he wasn’t silent. The two of you had become good friends, being two of the quieter personalities on the team. 

Now you had someone to keep you company when you stayed at the outskirts of Tony’s parties.  

But as more time went on, he noticed small things that you did. Behaviors you had, things you said. Clutch phrases. The way you would seem embarrassed when people complimented you. The way you would say that there were no worries even if you were the only reason that a mission was successful. 

Sometimes when you thought you were alone or no one would hear, he would catch you mumbling things to yourself. Things like yeah right to compliments before giving a genuine response. The slight shakes of the head in protest. The nervous habits you had when you got a compliment. The little things that others were too distracted to notice, too small to 

Bucky was an observant man. 

Which is how one night, you hadn’t realized him come into your room to talk to you about something that Bucky completely forgot about once he saw you. You were sitting down at your desk, head in your hands and rubbing your eyes. 

Jesus why am I so stupid

What the fuck is wrong with me

They don’t mean what they say

How could they like you?

I’m worthless

Just like everyone else

I don’t belong here

You were so trapped by the marathon of degrading thoughts that you hadn’t heard Bucky come in. He stood beside you, concern etched on his face. 

“Y/n?” you jumped slightly and took your hands away from your face, blinking in surprise. You had been crying. Why was he here?

“Y/n what’s wrong?” he asked, coming over to you. 

You shook your head and shrugged, wiping a few loose tears from your face. “‘M fine Buck,” you whispered, struggling to keep your emotions out of your voice.

“Y/n,” Bucky said, crouching down in front of you. “You wouldn’t be crying if something wasn’t wrong. It’s okay to be upset, there’s nothing wrong with that. Just tell me why you’re upset.”

You shook your head again. “Really Buck, I’m fine.”

“Y/n, I may not be able to read minds like Wanda, but I know something’s bothering you.it’s okay.”

You sighed, taking a breath before looking at him. “Do you guys really mean it?” you suddenly asked meekly.

Bucky drew his eyebrows together in confusion. “Mean...what?” 

“After missions, when you say I did the right thing, that I did a good job, that you guys need me - do you mean it?”

Bucky looked more puzzled now. “Yeah, of course we do. Why else would we say things like that?”

“If you thought you were supposed to.” you said suddenly. “Or if, you know, you wanted to be polite, or you thought I wanted to hear it, or you didn’t really mean it I don’t really know I -”

“Y/n, hold on, slow it down...What?” Bucky said. “Why on Earth would you think that?”

You crossed your arms and shrugged. “I dunno, I just don’t really feel like I’m all that valuable to you guys here. I don’t do anything you guys couldn’t do without me. I make so many mistakes all the time and no matter how hard I try I just don’t feel like I belong here.”

Bucky took a minute to look at you. He had known you doubted yourself but this was beyond what he had thought. To think that you, y/n, weren’t valuable to this team was a crazy idea to him

To you it was the truth.

“Y/n, no, we need you. Why on Earth would you think you don’t belong?”

“Because I haven’t earned it. I’m on the team, I fight with you guys, but I still don’t feel like I should be. The mistakes I make all the time, the wrong calls, the selfish calls, bad judgements...I could go on. I just...no matter how much good I do it doesn’t make the mistakes go away.”

“Y/n, you are one of the best people we have, we -”

“No I’m not,” you said firmly, surprising Bucky. You shook your head. “You guys don’t need me. I don’t deserve to be on this team.”

“And I do?” Bucky asked.

You looked back at him. “What do you mean? Of course you do. Your the best fighter we have, Steve's best friend, we need you.”

“But I’ve made so many mistakes. You know all of the horrible things that I’ve done y/n. I was made into a weapon.” he said.”

“Bucky you know that wasn’t your fault. You didn’t choose that and you would've done anything to stop it. That’s different. You’re a great fighter and a good person, Bucky.”

“So are you.” he stated simply. “Do you believe that?”

You took a deep breath.  “I believe you believe that. But that doesn’t mean it’s true.”

Bucky put his hands on your shoulders. “You are a fighter. A hero. You’ve saved so many people doing things that some of us couldn’t or wouldn’t do. People out there remember how you saved them. How you protected them and gave yourself to them. That was you, no one else. You are a part of this team, you help make it what it is. We would be lost without you. You put your blood, sweat, and tears into this team. You give your heart and soul to this team. You’ve earned every goddamn bit of praise you get and more. You fought your place onto this team and you deserve to be here just as much as everyone else here. So when your head tells you that you don’t belong or that we don’t need you, tell it to fuck off. Because you’re one of the best people we have.”

By now you had tears in your eyes again, but not ones of shame. Ones of appreciation and relief. You had wanted to hear those words directly for so long and to be affirmed in that way was something you needed. “Thank you Bucky,” you said softly, giving him one of your first genuine smiles at a compliment.

He squeezed your shoulder reassuringly. “Anytime. Anytime you want a reminder, you let me know. I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it before you can start to believe it for yourself.”

[comfortwriting]

A Triwizard Baby Part 4 - F.W

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompt Masterlist

Fred Weasley x Fem Reader

Part 4 of my ‘Triwizard Baby’ mini-series, please read Parts 1, 2, and 3 if you haven’t already. Want to be tagged? Let me know!

Warnings: Swearing, Mention vomiting, and food/eating.

"Girls" you sighed, watching them finally stop jumping on their beds and dropping their pillows "There's something I need to tell you."

You and Angelina shared a glance, she knew and so did you - you were finally ready, to tell the truth. Hiding this - hiding the truth about you and Fred had caused you enough pain, and the longer you decided to hide this, the worse the pain would get.

"What is it?" Katie asked, already concerned, no longer giggly or excitable.

Staring and picking at your fingernails, you finally looked each of your friends in the eyes, your heart thumping in your chest with each breath.

"I'm ready to tell you" you sighed again "who the father is."

They all stayed silent except Matt's little sister, "who is it?" she asked quietly.

"Fred," you blurted out, unable to hide his name for much longer "Fred Weasley is the father."

"I've told you" Fred hissed "don't bloody speak to me!" he stormed in front of George, stamping his feet, furious his backstabbing brother would dare to even speak to him.

Fred was exhausted from sleeping in the room of requirement alone and no one to talk to, he was pissed off with his brother, frustrated that you weren't his and that everyone around him avoided him as if he had a curse. For the first time in his life, he left as if he had run out of luck.

George grabbed him by the arm "Freddie, please-"

"No!" Fred shoved George's grip off him "You're jealous, you always have been."

George opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't get a word in.

"You always have been, every girl I've been with, you've chased after when I'm done with them. You can't stand the fact I fucked her, and you've rubbed it in my face that you've knocked her up!" Fred's voice cracked "And I told you, I loved her!"

"Fred, I-"

"Do me a favour, Georgie, don't speak a word to me at the baby shower, unless you want a crib smashed against your stupid head!"

"Keep those eyes closed!" Angelina grinned, her hands covering your eyes as she walked you through the rented restaurant covered in banners, balloons, a buffet table and presents.

"I am!" you smirked, feeling slightly nervous, smelling the mouth-watering fruit juices and pies.

"Okay," Angelina smiled, removing her hands "open in three, two, one!"

Opening your eyes you looked across the huge room, your friends were all huddled together with party poppers, yelling "Surprise!" and pulling the string, confetti shooting across the room, Fred sat alone across the room, trying his hardest to show support and be happy for you, but his heartbreak was breaking through his persona better than he thought.

You were bombarded with presents for you and the baby: the new crib, clothes, socks, bottles, nappies, monitors, teddy bears, and blankets - you unwrapped everything which brought the biggest smile to your face and tears of happiness to your eyes.

Everyone made bets on whether you would have a girl or a boy, what time and day they would be born on, and how long the labour would be. Even you had to admit, you were having a good time and for the first time in a while, the smile on your face was genuine, not forced.

After hours of present opening, games, bets, and food, you and the girls cleaned up the confetti, empty plates and scrunched up wrapping paper. Fred slowly approached you and tapped you on the shoulder, turning around to look at him, your heart pained.

Tell him, everyone knows but him, just tell him!

"Freddie-"

"Y/N, can I have a moment?" he murmured.

The girls looked at the two of you standing in the middle of the room, they exchanged looks and nodded, leaving to give you both some privacy.

"I wanted to give this to you in private," Fred said softly, handing you a large faux dragon scale photo album "I ran out of time to wrap it, was up all night finishing it."

You stared down at the photo album and opened it, your heartbreaking with each turn of the page. Pictures of you and Fred throughout the years, followed by his little notes of when and where the picture was taken until you flicked to the empty pages, you stared up at him.

Tell him, now is a perfect time-

"Fred, please-"

"The blank pages are to fill with pictures of us and the baby," he said softly "that's if the father won't mind."

George entered the room again, not knowing his brother was still there.

"Y/N, I was thinking-" he stopped in his tracks, looking at his brother's face dropping.

"Congratulations, again." Fred walked away, pushing past his brother and out the door.

"They are Braxton Hicks, my dear." Madame Pomfrey waved her hand, helping you to your feet in the hospital wing.

Your hand rested on your bump "I'm sorry, what?"

After your little moment with Fred, your womb contracted and relaxed, disturbing your baby, causing it to lash out and kick against your tummy in discomfort from the contractions. You were frightened and sure you were going into labour and George rushed you to the hospital wing.

"Is she going to be okay?" George asked nervously.

"False labour pains" she replied "and if you go to the tournament tonight you'll be experiencing more of them!" she stressed.

"I can assure you I won't be doing backflips," you grumbled, "surely it will be safer for me if I sit down."

Madame Pomfrey held her nose up in the air, feeling slightly defeated "I can't stop you from going, but as long as you're sitting down and surrounded by a responsible group of friends, I don't see why you can't go."

"I'll take good care of her, I swear."

"Your brother couldn't!" Madame Pomfrey hissed "she's in this mess because of him, and I better not see you two back in here until that baby is ready!"

The loud band played along as everyone got seated high up in the stands, the girls on your left, and George on your right, you held onto his hand, still on edge from the sudden Braxton Hicks. You rested your head against his shoulder, Fred stared at the back of your head, his hands bunched into fists, regretting his decision to sit towards the back.

Everyone was on the edge of their seats, Fleur had failed, Krum evidently had too - now - it was between Cedric and Harry, the champion being a Hogwarts student was certain, but still, undecided whether that champion would belong to Hufflepuff or Gryffindor, like many others in the stands, your fingers and toes were crossed for Harry taking the win.

Out of nowhere, Cedric came stumbling out of the maze, covered in dirt, sweat, and blood, his shirt sticking to him and his hair ruffled, scratches across his delicate face. He crouched down, clearly out of breath, but so startled and shaken up that he was shaking and green in the face.

The crowd jumped to their feet, cheering for Harry and Gryffindor, holding their red banners and waving their flags in the air whilst Syltherin scowled and hid their faces in their hands.

"We need to go and see if he's alright!" Angelina panicked hearing Cho shriek, the girls got on their feet and hurried down the stairs, running out to Cedric who was now on his hands and knees on the grass, throwing up.

"Well, are you coming!?" Angelina asked George, holding out her hand.

George looked at you, he didn't want to leave you on your own and you knew it.

"Go," you reassured him "I'll be okay."

You watched Cedric gain the courage to speak, you tried to lip read but he was too far away for you to even make out a single word, but whatever he had said panicked the cheering girls and proud lads because now they were muttering, whispering and all appeared to be frightened and anxious, no longer in the mood to celebrate Harry's win.

Katie who didn't leave you behind shot a scowl at Fred who continued to stare at you, she moved closer to you whilst Angelina and George hurried back, horror across their faces.

"What's happened?" you panicked.

"It's Harry" George frowned "The cup, it was a portkey and he's gone, Cedric said-"

Angelina nudged George with her elbow, glaring at him and shaking her head "not now, George."

"No, what is it?" you demanded.

Just as George announced the news that the dark lord had returned, you felt major discomfort and a dull ache in your back and lower abdomen, along with the pressure that increased in your pelvic, you gripped onto your bump and winced.

"George!" you panicked "It's happening!"

The father of your baby watched as you went into labour, Katie and Angelina helped you to your feet as George hurried over to Madame Pomfrey, everyone around you started to panic and gave you all the room you needed to evacuate safely back into the hospital wing - the one place you didn't want to end up twice in one day.

Leaving you behind, George stared up at Fred who was sat as still as a statute, if you weren't going to tell him, George had to, he wouldn't allow his brother to miss the birth of his child.

George stumbled over to his brother and shook him angrily "I don't want to bloody argue but listen to me!"

"George, I told you-"

"You're the dad, alright!" George yelled, "She's having your baby, you need to get to the hospital wing now!"

"What are you on about?" Fred argued, not believing the word "are you seriously-"

"Think back to the party when you played truth or dare! Think for Merlin's sake!"

Fred shut his mouth and suddenly, his world began to spin so fast his heart could've stopped.

“I want you.” you breathed, pulling away from the kiss “I want you to fuck me like you do everyone else.”

“I want you too” Fred replied, taking your hand and fleeing from the party.

“Are you ready, Y/N?” Fred asked, pulling away from your breasts.

“Yes,” you breathed out, slurring slightly “I’m ready Freddie.”

The memories suddenly flashed before his eyes, the sight of your naked body beneath his, the two of you climaxing, Fred pulling out and falling into your arms, only to wake up the next morning in an empty bed that smelled of your hair and perfume. It reminded Fred that he had forgotten to put a condom on, George wasn't lying, he is the father of your child.

Fred's eye widened and he bolted from his brother, shoving everyone aside and sprinting for his life to the hospital wing, no one and nothing could stop him now.

The doors of the hospital wing swung open, laying in your bed, tears rolled down your face as the contractions worsened, Madame Pomfrey urging you to keep pushing. Fred pulls out a chair and sits beside you, holding your hand, comforting you, kissing your forehead and encouraging you.

You opened your mouth to speak: you wanted to say sorry, to tell him you loved him, you wanted to explain everything all at once, but you were unable to - the pain increasing, causing you to scream out, tears rolling down your face.

"Almost there Y/N, you're crowning!" Madame Pomfrey announced.

Fred planted another kiss on your sweaty forehead "keep pushing sweetheart," he said softly "you're doing so bloody well!"

Within a few moments, the sound of your babies cries rang out through the hospital wing, Madame Pomfrey placed the baby in your arms, encouraging you to sit back and relax - but you couldn't you still had the urge to push.

"I need to push again, "you cried, gritting your teeth "I'm not done!"

Madame Pomfrey's mouth dropped, causing her to take the baby from your arms and handing the newborn to Fred.

"What's going on?" Fred panicked, gripping onto his child, already feeling the protectiveness kick in.

"There's another baby..."

"She's having twins?!"

Fred held the elder newborn in his arms whilst the younger and smaller newborn rested in yours, both of them just like their father; a full head of ginger hair.

"They're yours." you croaked, your. throat sore from all the screaming and crying.

Fred smiled, tears forming in his eyes as he rocked the baby in his arms "I know, they look just like me... their hairs..."

"I'm so sorry, Freddie, I didn't tell you because... because I didn't know what to do, you're my best friend and I've had feelings for you since the beginning and I felt as if you didn't feel the same, I thought that me forcing a child upon you would... would ruin what we had."

"Of course I feel the same," Fred replied "I just didn't know if you did."

The two of you went silent for a moment, the twins sleeping -  they were exhausted from being brought into the world earlier than expected.

"Do you still feel the same?" you asked Fred, staring into his pride-filled brown eyes.

He nodded "Yeah, do you?"

Everything you had ever wanted finally arrived, the children you were carrying - so eager and excited to meet, and the man of your dreams, finally on the same page as you - who had been in love with you for all this time.

You looked down at the baby in your arms and then back up at Fred, "I do too."

"Shall we have a fresh start?" Fred smiled "As parents and that."

You broke out into a light laugh and smiled "I'd like that, Freddie. I'd like that a lot."

There was another silence, it felt as if the world was sleeping.

"So, when can we make another one?" Fred winked.

"When we graduate from Hogwarts!-"

"Next year?" he raised an eyebrow.

"You didn't let me finish! We need to graduate, get stable jobs and have a house with enough room!"

"So next year then?" Fred smirked, still cradling the baby.

Your furrowed your brows, unsure whether or not he was bluffing.

"Okay then, since you're all confident, let's make a bet." You smirked back.

"If I win, we make another baby, if you win... we get married," Fred said softly as the baby opened his eyes and let out a cry.

"Alright," you agreed, taking your baby from Fred, trying to breastfeed "but what is your obsession with making another one?" you asked, "we've just had twins!"

Mr and Mrs Weasley were slowly approaching the hospital wing, George following not far behind.

"Yeah, which I've only just found out are mine!"

The hospital wing doors opened, Molly and Arthur standing in the doorway, staring at you, their son, and their grandchildren.

taglist: Taglist: @amourtentiaa @horrorxweasley @alwaysnforeverfangirl@reeophidian @inglourious-imagines @sebby-staan @onlyfreds@pandaxnienke @xmalfoyweasleyx @manuosorioh@cosmiccomicloverqueen @the-romanian-is-bae @fhhsposts@cavalinhox @purple-vodka-99 @simpforweasleys2@dracoismybabey @statellitespidey @xuminghaosworld @michael-loves-chickens @simpforweasleys2 @freddie-weaselbee @itsnottlilly

[ky-the-squiddy]

*Private* Hi there, I hope you're doing well and having a good day. I was wondering if you could help me by boosting my donation post for me? I'm so sorry if I'm bothering you and I completely understand if you can't or don't want to help. No worries, thank you. Take care and happy holidays 💖❤️

Sorry, I won't be boosting your post, and I'm going to be posting this publically so that both you and other people can see my reasoning behind it, come to their own conclusions, and hopefully learn something from all this.

Firstly, there is currently a massive wave of scam artists and spam bots on tumblr invading people's inboxes with messages exactly like this. I've already had three in the past few weeks that were clear and obvious scams, so they just got deleted and the user blocked. If you are a genuine person in need, this is the absolute worst method of gaining attention.

And there is the strong possibility of you being genuine! Your blog has lots of posts on it scattered neatly on a near-daily basis, dating all the way back to May last year, and with a more-or-less consistent (as far as tumblr goes) themeing to them. You've made a number of original posts, mostly text, and they're a good mix of fandom, personal complaining about tumblr, and requests for money. Your highly inconsistent tagging, however, did send up a red flag, as it seems to be mostly no tags on 90% of posts, and then occasionally copying the tags of the person you reblogged from. Which could indicate a bot copy-pasting things, or it could just be xkit's 'keep original tags on reblogs' function. Many of your reblogs also all seem to have a timestamp of under 15 minutes from the person you reblogged it from, which again is a red flag as it could indicate a bot using tumblr's Post Date function to backdate reblogs, or it could just mean that you don't tend to scroll too far down your dash. There's also the fact that you do actually have a number of posts on your blog from 2015 before a 5-year-gap, which isn't a red flag? But it isn't not a red flag either.

Apologies if all these observations sound pretty clinical, but this is the sort of thing that people should be looking for when trying to spot fake blogs fishing for donations.

Secondly, and making this statement clearly on my blog is a major reason I'm posting this ask publicly, I do not reblog personal donation posts. Basically ever. I do not reblog them whether they're for medical needs, housing, pets, bills, or anything, and I certainly don't reblog them for strangers.

I will occasionally signal boost commission posts for friends or mutuals, or I'll reblog funding posts for cool projects, and very occasionally I'll help spread 'a major disaster has happened/is happening and here's how you can help the people involved' post that may happen to include donation links, but I do not reblog personal donation posts.

I am saying this as someone who knows what it's like to be flat-fucking-broke for years at a time. As someone who had their entire meagre savings completely wiped last year by the UK government. As someone who has anxiety attacks when I see the total at the end of my grocery bill every month. It is because of these things that I avoid those posts to the best of my (and blacklist's) ability.

Genuine or no, I'm sorry that you're in a shitty enough situation that you feel begging for funds on tumblr from strangers is your only real option. If you haven't already, I recommend checking out Copperbadge's fundraising primer, and filling out the Radio Free Monday form linked in the sidebar. You're much more likely to find help there than by sending out random and worrying asks.

[get-lost-in-fanfiction]

if you still do requests for ben-centric stuff, could you do reader/oc time travels and meets baby ben in the 70s? or something similar >//> thank you! -❄️

Second Meeting - Oneshot

Paring: Ben Linus x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

There’s something to be said about how quickly three years can go by. You can still remember how bad your headache was during the flashes. You still remember clinging tightly to Ben’s shirt before he descended into the Orchid. You didn’t know what was going to happen or if you were ever going to see him again. But the last 3 years have been a blur, full of everything DHARMA Initiative, and yet he still hasn’t left your mind.

You miss Ben terribly. Despite the many date offers by the Initiative members, you never allowed yourself to go on any of them. Juliet had tried to encourage you to go on some, even set them up for you. She knew it was pointless, and that even after three years you still held strong feelings for her old leader.

When Jack, Kate, and Hurley showed up you felt a shred of hope. You went with James to meet them, heart full of joy. It all sank when Kate never mentioned Ben at all, and you were too afraid to ask if he had come along. You were even more shocked to learn Locke had died, and were desperate to know how. You didn’t want to push it though, and your heart and brain was so full of shock you could barely get a sentence out.

You rode in silence with James back to the Barracks. You both had a silence agreement to not ask each other how you felt. That was how your friendship worked, and that’s how it always worked. From day one to now, it’s a silence agreement that neither of you two are okay but you won’t press for information.

You two are back at James and Juliet's house, rummaging through his wardrobe, grabbing shirts from hangers quickly. Juliet enters and you don’t hear her until she speaks.

“Hey,” She says and you look up while James keeps looking.

“You seen my baggy sweatshirt, the one with the bulldog on it?” He asks, still frantically pulling clothes together. You just stand there, looking at the shirt in your hands.

“It's in the laundry. James... what's going on?” Juliet asks, and James finally turns around. He gives a pained look to you, and you know exactly why.

“They're back,” You half whisper, and Juliet looks between the both of you in disbelief.

“I'm sorry. Who's back?” She asks.

“Jack, Hurley, Kate,” James replies, and Juliet has so many emotions on her face it’s hard for you to decode them all.

You tune out the conversation. Juliet’s expression did something to you. It shoved some sharp in between the cracks that were already there and threatened to shatter you. You were shaken from your thoughts as James drops the bag of clothes and sits on the bed beside Juliet. You realize you’ve been standing still for a while now and drop down beside him.

James sighs, “I don’t understand it any more than you do. But they're here, and I gotta find a way to bring 'em in before somebody else finds 'em and they screw up everything we got here.”

That's when it hits you, “There's a sub coming in this afternoon,” you say with your voice raised slightly and a sliver of hope comes back.

The next hours are a blur of trying to get Jack, Kate, and Hurley into the Initiative without raising any red flags. You think it seems to go smoothly enough, but nothing is ever simple. Especially not when Jack, Kate, and James are back involved with one another again. You watch Juliet very carefully throughout the day, and her expressions. You realize as you watch, that life as you know it has come to an end. God, planes do so much emotional damage.

When you get word there’s someone out in the jungle, some part of you screams that it’s Ben. They’ve taken him as a Hostile, which is not good. Your mind is already spinning with ideas on how to get him out. But then James gets word on his walkie that it’s Sayid, and your heart deflates. You’re not upset that Sayid is here, you just desperately wished it was Ben. So you volunteer to ride out with James to the Flame to see what’s going on.

Just as you expected, James turns you down. He says you need to keep an eye on Jack, Kate, and Hurley and he says he’ll take care of Sayid. You find yourself nodding, feeling numb. There was no one else with Sayid. You can almost feel hope draining out of your body and onto the grass beneath your feet.

You stand next to Phil in silence through the whole Orientation and picture taking. Everything seems like a blur and you’re not really present in your own head. Stuck in 1977 without the man you love.

“Okay,” Phil says and he claps his hands, shaking your from your thoughts, “Right on. So you guys have the rest of the day to get acquainted with your security protocol handbooks waitin' in your new digs. Now some of it may seem a little scary, but I promise you all, we are perfectly safe here, okay? So make yourselves at home. Come on. We got hamburgers. We got punch.”

Phil’s walkie goes off and you hear James’s voice through the other end “You there, Phil? We're coming in with a 14-J.”

“Roger that, Mr. LaFleur,” Phil’s replies and turns to you. He nods and you nod back, preparing to see your friend again

A DHARMA van stops and Phil speaks up again, “Okay, if I could get everyone to hold back, please, we have a minor security situation.”

James, Jin and Radzinsky step out with Sayid. You watch them all, and you and Sayid make eye contact. You’re surprised to see his eyes widen slightly at the sight of you. You don’t nod or make any acknowledgement that you know him, Phil is too close.

“Move,” Radzinsky says and you can’t help but flinch as they march him away.

“I guess we found Sayid,” You can hear Hurley say and you privately think that this is going to end up being a horrible shit show.

You follow the group despite Phil’s protests as you tag along while they march Sayid down the stairs of the security office and into a prison cell.

“All right, you can hang out here until we can figure out what the hell to do with you,” James says to Sayid and you have to remind yourself his tone is just for appearances sake. You don’t understand why you’re so sensitive

“What are we gonna do with him?” Phil asks James, giving you a sidelong glance. You and Phil have never gotten along. He didn’t like a woman working on the security team, but James insisted.

James sighs deeply before answering, “Bring the man some damn food. We're not savages.” James turns and locks the cell and gives Sayid a glance before walking away.

You want to stay and talk to Sayid. You want to ask him about Ben. Is he still on the mainland in 2007? Is he alive? Did he come with them on the plane? You’re torn and want to stand up for yourself, but Phil tells you to “come along” with a firm grip on your elbow and to have to comply. You give Sayid a tortured look behind Phil’s back and Sayid responds with a sad look and a bowed head.

You win by getting Phil to allow you to watch the security cameras. He sits at his desk, pretending to do work, but you know he's watching you. You sit in one of the chairs facing the screens and just start at Sayid feeling forlorn.

You hear the door open but don't bother to look up. You've been sulking this whole time feeling sorry for yourself. Your ears perk up when you hear a young boy’s voice

“Hey, Phil,” the boy says and you turn around, “I'm just gonna go in there and deliver him a sandwich.”

“All right”, Phil replies, nodding at you to keep an eye out. Your eyes widen as you watch the boy. He looks at you and your eyes lock.

Your heart explodes in familiarity at his eyes and you're in disbelief. The boy turns and walks away, obviously oblivious to what just happened with you. You scramble to your feet despite Phil’s protests and tag along with the boy.

You two enter the cell room. Sayid looks between you and the boy. The boy doesn’t seem to notice

“Hello. I brought you a sandwich,” the boy says and holds a bag through the bars, “I didn't put mustard on it, but if you'd like some, I could get some.”

“This will be fine. Thank you,” Sayid replies. The paper bag crinkles and your throat is dry. The boy looks up at you and you smile apprehensively at him. It’s meant to be reassuring but you don’t think it comes off that way.

“Are you a Hostile?” The boy whispers, looking at you with a terrified expression. You’re unable to say anything.

“Do you think I am?” Sayid shoots back, flicking his eyes over to you every few seconds.

“What's your name?” The boy replies, and it’s a game of questions. You squat down next to the boy, ready to pull him away if Sayid gives away too much information.

“Sayid. What's yours?”

“I'm Ben.”

Suddenly your ears are ringing. You almost fall over but catch yourself on the wall. Sayid is looking at you funny, seemingly shocked as well but more shocked at your reaction.

“It's nice to meet you, Ben,” Sayid replies with his eyes on you.

It’s Ben. It’s young Ben. You had no idea he was with the Initiative. Was he the one who started the Purge? ‘Oh my god’ you think. Young Ben leaves, giving you a weird look. He doesn’t recognize you, but how could he? Time is so fucked up, and you’re not even sure if this is the same Ben that you fell in love with. Will they grow up to be the same?

You press your back up against the nearest wall and slide down onto the floor. Your heart is pounding a bruise into your ribcage and you're lightheaded. Sayid looks at you, seemingly nervous to speak. You wouldn’t know what to say to him anyway. You're feeling way too many things at once to even be able to think about anything but oxygen to your deprived lungs.

Eventually, Phil comes storming in, pulling your shocked form off the floor, and sending you home. It's dark and chilly outside. All the lights of the houses are out except for James and Juliet’s. You don't go see them, you have to go home and process this whole day.

You make it home, barely flicking on a lamp before collapsing into bed in your jumpsuit. You manage to kick off your shoes and shimmy under your bed blankets. Maybe you don't have your Ben back, but at least you have a Ben.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged for oneshots!

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Nowhere to Run by  GleefullyCaptainSwan

Read on AO3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

Or on FF

Tagging: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64 @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx

Chapter 8: The Plan

Emma woke as the sunlight reached her face. She snuggled down into her blankets, enjoying the warmth they provided to her. The blankets were plush and soft against her skin, something she did not have the luxury of having the last ten years. Henry and Emma had been afforded a single woolen blanket that they shared on their old mattress in the basement or whatever room he would trap them in for the moment. Many times, in the winter, they had huddled together using her body to keep her son warm.

Looking over she watched with gratitude as Henry was curled into the comforter, Rogers nuzzling against his chest, a smile on the boy’s face.

She heard a noise echoing through the house, the clang of metal in the distance. She sat up, yawning before stretching her feet to the floor and wandering into the bathroom. She found a brush in the bottom drawer, one she recognized as hers, and ran the bristles through her hair. Killian had left two new toothbrushes on the sink for her and Henry.

When she finished getting ready, she slipped quietly out of the room, Rogers following at her heels. She found Killian in the kitchen, hunched over the stove while he stirred a pan of scrambled eggs. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants, and nothing else. Emma stood in the door frame, admiring the man in front of her, she had forgotten what it was like to desire someone.

She had determined that even ten years later, he was still the most gorgeous man she had ever laid eyes on. His body had changed in the years since she had been with him, but he had stayed in excellent shape, his back was firm and taut, even though she could tell he had gained weight since they were together, but it made him even more attractive to her. By the time she realized her gaze was lingering over his firm backside, Rogers betrayed her by drawing his attention toward her.

“Morning, Emma. Hope I didn’t wake you. I thought you and Henry might want some breakfast before we met with David.”

He turned, leaning against the stove, crossing his arms in front of his chest. She mentally reminded herself to keep her eyes on his face, not to trail down his body or spend time wondering if he still went commando when wearing sweatpants.

“Emma?”

She flinched, realizing she had been stuck in her head, staring at him. “Sorry, still sleepy.” She laughed. “Um, breakfast sounds great. I’ll get Henry up.”

She retreated quickly to the bedroom, waking her son to ensure they had time to eat and make it to the station before 8am.

By the time they pulled up to the station, they were ten minutes late, and had missed multiple calls from David who was clearly concerned about Killian making good on his promise to return Emma first thing in the morning.

“Sorry, I’m not used to getting a kid out the door in enough time to get across town.” Killian replied honestly as Robin glared at him as soon as they reached his desk.

“Hello again, Emma.” Robin smiled, looking over at Killian with concern. “Captain has a guest in his office, he wants to see you both. I can watch Master Henry.”

Emma followed Killian nervously through the building toward the Captain’s office. The blinds were closed, and they knocked before entering the room. When Emma stepped inside, she recognized the woman sitting across from David at his desk. She had met her twice in the hospital after more than one brutal attack she had received from Neal.

“Jones, Emma. This is Mary Margaret; she works over at Harbor View Medical Center.”

The woman looked up and stared at Emma. “I remember you.” She said softly.

“I remember you too, Emma. I’m so happy to finally see you again.” The woman stood from her seat.

“Emma, we would like to be able to use your hospital records as evidence.” David declared.

“I didn’t use my real name.” She said with a frown.

“I actually flagged them after trying to report your injuries, I figured it wasn’t your real name and you were always gone before I could alert security, but I hoped that one day I would see you again. Your injuries were especially memorable, and no one should have to continue to live with that.”

Emma glanced at Killian nervously, swallowing before speaking. “Can I…can I talk to you privately?”

Mary Margaret looked at David, and he nodded, “We’ll just be outside. Take your time.”

Killian lightly grazed her shoulder and she turned toward him with a nod, offering him a shy smile before he followed David out the door.

“How are you doing, Emma?” The woman asked taking a seat and offering her a chair beside her.

“I just wanted to thank you for everything you did for me in the past. I know you tried to help, and I wasn’t very cooperative.”

“Emma, you did what you had to do to survive. No one faults you for that.”

“I had to protect my son. Neal never let him come with me to the hospital. He always kept us separate so that I wouldn’t do anything.”

“That must have been terrifying.” She said softly, reaching out to take her hand. “How are you coping with being away from him?”

“I’m…” She sighed, guilt overcoming her as she turned her eyes to the floor. “I feel like I’ve done something wrong. By leaving him. How fucked up is that?”

“Emma, you were with this man for ten years. He conditioned you to be afraid of him, to want to please him. It’s natural to be scared or feel that you’ve disappointed him in some way.”

“How long am I going to be like this?”

“I can’t answer that unfortunately, I can recommend you a good therapist. Dr. Hopper is the best around.”

“Therapists are for weak people.” She grunted.

“Therapy is to help you talk about how you’re feeling and the way those feelings cause you to interact with others. It will help you resolve what happened to you. It doesn’t make you weak. You are a very strong woman to have withstood the violence and emotional abuse you suffered.”

“Will I always be afraid of being close to another person?”

“How do you mean?”

“Killian, he’s my…my husband.” The woman looked confused for a moment before the realization of her words were met with understanding.

“I’m sorry, Captain Nolan didn’t tell me you were married.”

“It was complicated.” She said with a light snort. “But now, every time he touches me, I flinch.”

“It’s going to take time for you to react normally. The important part is for you to know that you are in a safe environment. He’ll need to be patient, take things slow. Try the little things until you feel like you are ready to move to the next thing. Start with something small, like holding his hand, or a hug. It may be easier if you initiate contact with others for a while, until you get used to someone else showing you affection. But there is no right or wrong way to heal, Emma. Neal broke your self-esteem, took away your ability to trust and violated your will to choose, only you can take back what he stole from you.”

She smiled at her, looking down at her hands, feeling comforted by another person.

“I’ll leave Dr. Hopper’s card with David.”

“Thank you for talking to me. I don’t know what to say to Captain Nolan or Killian.”

“They both seem to care a great deal about you, I have a feeling they will let you take all the time you need to come to them.” She paused. “How is Henry handling things?”

“I’m not sure. He doesn’t trust a lot of people. He seems to like Killian, but I know this isn’t easy on him.”

“Dr. Hopper sees kids too; it might be a good idea for both of you to have someone else to talk to.”

“Thank you, I will look into it.”

She was happy to have had the opportunity to speak to the woman. Not that she felt better, it was just nice to know that what she was experiencing was normal behavior. Emma laughed to herself, it wasn’t like anything going on around her was normal.

When they stepped out of the room, David and Killian were huddled in the corner with Robin. A man and woman, she thought were named Belle and Will who had been their back up the night they got Henry out of the house was sitting with her son, who was currently laughing loudly at something the man had said to them.

Neal’s picture was displayed on the wall at the back of the room, her own photo was below it, she cringed when she realized that it pointed toward Officer Perry. She made her way to the men in the corner, taking note of the way that Killian stared at her with concern in his eyes as she approached.

“So, what’s the plan?” She said shyly as she approached.

David turned around, “Ah you’re done, let me see Mary Margaret out, Killian and Robin can fill you in.”

“We’re gonna have you call Neal from a phone in the building, tell him that you got picked up while you were shopping. Just tell him that the officer told you they have Henry. It’s going to be really important for him to believe you are desperate to get him back.”

Emma nodded. “Ok, he’ll believe all that, he’s not exactly smart. But how is that going to get him to you?”

Robin pointed at the map on the wall. “We want you to tell him to pick you up on the docks, here.” He said as he pointed toward the map. “Will he come get you? Or will he expect you to come to him?”

“I’ll tell him I need him, that always gets him to do what I want.”

Killian’s jaw tensed beside her but he nodded his head. “Ok then we take you to the docks. He shows up, we take him down.”

David walked up behind them. “And she needs to wear a wire, we want to get him to talk about the bank job. Get him to say that he killed Officer Perry.”

“No way, too dangerous, he’s not an idiot. He’ll check her for a wire.” Killian argued.

“He’s right, Neal doesn’t trust anyone and if he knows I’ve been with the cops for a whole day without contacting him, he’ll suspect something.” She added.

“That’s the conditions. She wears a wire, or they want her back in lock up.”

“That’s a fucking death sentence.” Killian screamed and she jumped. “There is no way we do this. I’m not sending her out there so he can fucking kill her.”

“We’ll be safe, he won’t find the wire. I get that this is risky, so it’s Emma’s call.” David looked up at her apologetically.

She turned toward Killian, reaching out and taking his hand in hers. “If we don’t get Neal off the streets, he’s a danger to all of us. He won’t stop until he’s killed you, me, and Henry. I have to protect him.”

“Emma…” He choked out, his thumb caressing the top of her knuckles.

“I can do this, and I know you’ll be there to back me up.”

He ran his hand through his hair, an exasperated groan leaving his throat. “Fine, but if things go wrong, I’m putting a bullet in his head.”

“Don’t make me pull you off this, Jones. I need you thinking straight.” David warned.

“He’ll be fine.” Robin added, stepping up to tap him on the shoulder and sending him a warning glance.

“Ok let’s make the call.”

Emma felt her nerves rising as they dialed the phone, Killian listening on another line from his desk.

“Hello?”

“Neal, it’s Emma.”

“Where the fuck have you been, bitch?” He growled into the receiver.

“I got picked up from the grocery store, some dumb cop recognized my face from the robbery footage they’ve been blasting all over the tv.” Her heart was pounding in her chest. “Neal, they took Henry.”

“Who has Henry?”

“The cops, when they arrested me they told me they have him, how did that happen, you said he would be safe at the house.”

“Where is he?”

“They didn’t tell me, they just released me.”

“What do you mean they released you?”

“The video isn’t clear, they don’t have the gun, I told you I dumped it.”

“That’s my good girl.” He cooed and Emma wretched, closing her eyes. When she opened them, she recognized the look of anger shading Killian’s face from the desk on the other side of the room.

“I need you to come get me, I’m heading out of here right away, you told me to never stay near a station, so I’m going to the dock, Pier 50 where all that construction is going on.”

“Ok give me a couple hours. I want to make sure you weren’t followed. If you see any signs of trouble, you call me back ok? We’ll get Henry back. Everything will turn out exactly how it’s supposed to be, you’ll see sweetheart.”

“Ok I’ll see you then.”

“Emma…” She could hear the warning in the throaty growl, she tried to ignore it. “Baby I want to hear you say it.”

She looked up nervously, her face red with anger. Not here, not now. “I’ll say it when I see you.”

“Goddamn Emma, say it.”

She flinched as he raised his voice. “I love you.” She said in a hoarse whisper. Tears sliding down her cheek as the phone left her ear. She could barely hear his voice as she put the phone on the receiver, the words that made her feel dirty, worthless, and terrified.

“I love you too, baby.”

She dropped down into the chair behind her, tears falling slowly into her lap. “Mom, it’s gonna be ok.”

She reached out and pulled Henry into her lap, hugging him for dear life. She needed Neal to pay for everything he had done to them.

“You did good, Emma.” Killian’s voice was soft as he approached her. “Let’s get you ready.”

Henry looked up at her. “You can do this Mom. I believe in you.”

She stood and walked with the men toward the Captain’s office to set her up with a wire. Once the door closed David approached her, holding the wire in his hands.

“Cap, perhaps we should have Belle do this?” He glanced at Emma and then back at David who paused.

“Yeah good idea, I’ll go get her.”

Once they were alone, Killian turned toward her. “Are you alright, love?”

“I will be once this is all over. Thanks for, um…suggesting Belle.”

“Figured that might be a bit more comfortable for you.”

The door opened and Belle walked in, Killian nodded to her, passing the bundle of wires into her hand. “Make sure a pat down won’t find them.” He turned back to Emma, smiled, and left the room.

“So, tell me, this Neal, is he a nervous man, distrustful? Do you think he’ll try and search you?”

“He’ll definitely check my shirt. He’s not an idiot, but he’s not the most brilliant criminal either.”

“Ok so we’ll go with the legs.” Emma nodded and turned around, unbuckling her jeans, and pulling them down her legs. “Ok stand over here.” She pointed in front of her, and Emma closed her eyes, sighed, and then opened them with a new resolve.

“Those are much slimmer than I remember.” She remarked, the mic pack and wires that didn’t resemble the clunky ones they practiced with in the police academy.

“It’s been ten years dear; a lot has changed.” She said apologetically. “Ok, I’m gonna touch your leg. I’m going to try and run this up the inside of your thigh, I’m going to keep the mic pack low on your hip. That way if he searches you, he’s most likely to go for the small of your back.”

“Ok.”

“I met you once before, do you remember that?” Emma looked at the girl, trying to remember her. “It was really quick; you were graduating when I started the academy. You know people talked about you all the time. First female to have the highest score on the shooting range. You beat all the guys in your class.”

Emma laughed, it seemed so long ago that she earned her place among the men in her ranks. She knew she was a good shot, better than anyone else in her class, but proving it had meant more to her than she had realized.

“You were a hero to all us women that came after you. Only female in your class.” Belle continued.

“It wasn’t easy, but I’m sure you know that. Looks like you made your own way, Detective.”

“Damn straight.” She patted her leg. “All done.”

Emma looked down at the wire, traveling up her leg and onto her hip. “Thanks.”

“Just remember, you’re stronger than him.” She patted her on the shoulder and walked out the door, “I’ll get the Captain.”

The ride to the docks made her feel like she was stuck in a wind tunnel, everything was spinning by her at 60 mph, but she was frozen in place. The car stopped moving, and both Killian and Robin turned to face her.

“Ok Emma, you’re going to walk to the end of the pier, then wait. I’ll be stationed behind the row of shipping containers on the right, Robin will be on the left. Belle and Will are flanking the entrance. As soon as Neal is on the way, we’ll know it. Just get him to come in, get him to say whatever you can and then we’ll get you out of there.”

“Ok.”

They opened the door and Emma nervously stepped onto the pier. Killian leaned against the car, watching her. Emma nervously approached him, turning around to lean against the door. “Don’t get jumpy and shoot over my shoulder.” She teased.

“Hey that only happened once.”

“What if he doesn’t show up? What if he does show up but he finds the wire? What if…”

“Emma, nothing ever goes the way it’s planned. If something goes wrong, I’ll figure it out.”

Emma leaned against his shoulder, sliding her hand down, her fingers tentatively reaching out and slipping into his. “I know you will, you’ve got my back.”

[bellatrixxue]

Xue’s Supernatural Dare: Wendigo (S1 EP2)

Hello, everyone? How did everyone feel about the finale? Yes? Yes? Oh. Oh. Oh my. Oh, dear.

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell that half-assed homophobic chicken-shit fuckbucket’s not gonna stop me, since I strapped myself onto this roller coaster already and I promised I’m not getting out until the ride’s over, so here we go, wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Also, those who are in this roller coaster with me, ready? Tag list is: @fangirlxwritesx67​ @amazingiam00​ @kalliravenne​ @indecisive20something​ @2musiclover2​ @impossibletosleepthrough @there-must-be-a-lock​ @wingedcatninja​ @arvit​

Oh my gods this recap is so cheesy I actually can make a fondue out of it. 2000s, everybody!

A WHOLE MINUTE AND A HALF FOR THAT FONDUE

FUCKJUMPSCARETITLEFUCKYOU

So we’re starting the episode with the murder scene first, eh? Is that gonna be a trend?

Oh come on, Chads, you’re out in nature and you’re playing video games? Absorb the nature...before it absorbs you!

Waitwait. Holy shit is that...is that Cory Monteith? Oh, bless his soul...

If the wendigo eats his dick as he’s peeing I’m immediately giving Jensen Ackles $100. For no real reason, I just feel like giving him money for already carrying the show on his back.

I can’t tell if it did or not, so I’m not paying yet.

Aw, Sammy...

"I should have told you the truth.” *Vine voice* BUT YOU DIDN’T

FUCKYOUINTHEASSHOhnightmare. Nightmare. So did he visit her at her grave or not? I need answers.

A week? Goddamn. Poor thing. That man-eating tree’s fucking good at his job, man.

“There’s nothing there, it’s just...woods,” Sam, I don’t know if Jess’s death hit you hard or if you got into law school by eating some ancient dick and/or pussy instead of earning that high score fair and square, but the woods “in the middle of nowhere” (your words) are known to be one of the top places full of weird-ass creatures. Even kindergartners know that.

Ehehehehehehehehe he’s so smol next to his lil bro my lil shit

At least you’re coming up with decent covers this time. No Agent Mulder and Scully ruining things for you this time around.

“Bull” oop-

Oh Dean’s a smoooooooooth operator. Good going, buddy.

AND HE GOT A COPY OF THAT DOCUMENT TEAM DEAN TEAM DEAN

Oh that death really got to Sam. I hope he doesn’t turn out to be a trigger-happy psycho. Or eat the man-eating tree and become one himself.

Oh, Haley’s a cutie! Which one’s her brother? Cory? Discount Enrique Iglesias?

Do you have a card for EVERY profession, Dean? And how do I get them too?

That is a very pretty car. I bet they wasted half the budget on that thing.

Okay, sonny boy, little bro, Broseidon, calm down.

Ah, fuck, Haley and Broseidon is gonna go into the woods, that’s more heads to worry about.

How the fuck does Sam find information this fast? I’m impressed, I take five hours to get to one article for my research paper. Or maybe I’m just lazy. So he really earned his law school interview without having to eat dick and pussy, huh.

Every 23 years? What is this, Pennywise? Are we going to see the wendigo do his best Tim Curry do his best scary clown impression? Honk honk?

“Whatever that thing is, it can move.” And the sun rises on the East, Sammy. Why are you so smart and dumb at the same time? Is this his character trait? It might grow on me.

Ahhh, so Sam’s go-to move at interrogation is doing puppy dog eyes and sympathize with the person. He’d make a good lawyer, shame that man-eating tree.

Go Grandpa Exposition, go!

Go Grandpa Exposition, go, give us information and none at all!

OH GEEZ THAT SCAR. PENNYWISE WENDIGO IS VICIOUS.

Skinwalker, Back Dog...Ooh, those all sound cool! I hope we get to see them soon!

‘Corporeal’ doesn’t sound like a real word, but then again, English doesn’t sound like a real language. Sorry. Moving on.

Sam’s gonna eat the wendigo with that attitude, Jesus Christ.

AND HIS BROTHER, AT THIS RATE. If the real villain turns out to be inside Sam all along I’m gonna flip. Is that why women keep dying and burning on ceilings where he sleeps? Is he secretly Lucifer’s spawn or something?

“Oh sweetheart I don’t wear shorts”. They queer-coded him from the start and they tried to make you believe he was straight for fifteen seasons straight? And some people bought that?

Oh, crap, another crappy death treatment for Cory before he got into Glee...No, I wasn’t into Glee, I just watched a few episodes and I might hate Rachel Berry...And Lea Michele...ahem...

Dean is totally flirting with Roy shut upppppppp

OOP AND THERE ROY GOES OH THE SEXUAL TENSION IS HIGH IN THESE WOODS TODAY

“It’s probably the most honest I’ve been with a woman. Ever.” See. Bi. Bi bi bi.

So...why the coordinates, Daddy Negan? Is this a portal to Hell? A place where man-eating trees grow?

*carefully places death flag on Roy*

Ooooh the campsite is very...haunted house-y. You know what I’m saying?

That’s not Discount Enrique Iglesias, but Pennywise wendigo, yes? Those things can mimic human voices, right?

*Google searches*...There are so many versions of this tale I can’t even confirm or deny it. Dammit.

Maybe Pennywise wendigo just wants some snacks and a nice phone and GPS? Maybe he misses his family in uh, Canada or something?

Daddy Negan’s journal is  a e s t h e t i q u e .

I’m so sorry, but the way Sammy smirks as he speaks with those dark, dark voids for eyes? My boy’s a demon. He’s a demon, I’m telling you.

At least Haley has some sense to her. *puts another death flag on Roy*

*PUTS YET ANOTHER DEATH FLAG ON ROY*

True, that. What the heck is Daddy Negan up to with all of this?

“Saving people, hunting things, the family business!” Okay, the way Dean said it gave me chills.

I can actually empathize with Sam here...As whiny and bitchy as he is, he has his reasons to be this way. I guess if I were in his shoes, I’d be less of a Dean and more of a Sam, too. We deal with our losses quite similarly.

Ah, the brotherly bonding moments like these little talks make the show worth it. It’s so heartwarming.

Pennywise wendigo! I didn’t miss you, why’re you here to burst my happy bubble?

I’m starting to see a slight parallel between Haley and Broseidon and Dean and Sammy. Hmm.

Nice meeting you, Roy. Zoop you go.

Haley and Broseidon are taking this rather well, I’m glad they do.

Okay, actual exposition time, thank you.

Whoa, Broseidon speaks! Donner Party! Please don’t remind me of that! Those poor people!

Hibernation and food storage. Delightful, just delightful.

TORCHING? *CALLS RAMMSTEIN*

Somehow, not being able to see the wendigo is scarier to me than what I will probably see itself. Limited budget horror can actually work well.

Oh, dear, Roy literally did a death drop. Badum tissssssssss.

FUCK IT TOOK DEAN THE ONLY CHARACTER I CARE ABOUImean I love you too, Sam! Come on, let’s find him before it’s too late!

A trail of M&Ms! Yes, Broseidon! And Hansel and Gretel refercalled it. Sammy, you and I share the same wavelength?

SHITSHITTHEYTRIPPEDANDFELLINTHEFUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

Thank the gods the Pennywise wendigo kept them right there. Chances.

DISCOUNT ENRIQUE IGLESIAS IS STILL ALIVE GEEZ BUT ALSO PHEW

Ah, Dean Winchester, I love you so much that I can’t even begin to describe it.

Also how convenient that the flare guns are there. Deus ex machina!

Haley would bode well as a hunter, look at her courage, her will. There are more hunters around than Daddy Negan and the brothers, right?

Yeah, seeing the actual wendigo makes me less scared of it now. It’s unnerving, but still.

TEAM DEAN YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAW

Graphics are...alright, but it’s the thought that counts!

Running with the grizzly bear story. Smart Broseidon. Ben. Sorry, you deserve to be called by your real name. I think with practice they could become good hunters, along with their Discount Enrique Iglesias brother! Is there a fanfiction for that? Can I write it now?

...

I AM WILLING TO DIE TO PROTECT DEAN WINCHESTER I

Haley’s a lesbian, that’s why she kissed him on the cheek only. Headcanoned. Also I have a crush on her, she’s really pretty? Like? Heart eyes???

Ah, the siblings parallels again. Let’s hope neither of the two brothers end up in the bed like that.

“Man, I hate camping.” Really. Really really. Really.

“I’m driving”

...

SAM WINCHESTER I’M SORRY I EVER SPOKE ILL OF YOU I WILL PROTECT YOU WITH MY LIFE TOO I PROMISE YOU I WILL

It’s just a sassy bisexual brother and his little snide bisexual brother on the road to kill evil creatures and find their father and I love this show? Help? Help???

I really, really see the charm of Supernatural now! I’m fully invested in both brothers and their story, and I’m cheering them both on! Let’s get Daddy Negan back and get rid of that man-eating tree once and for all!

Six stars out of five!

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

This dare is introducing me to a whole new world, and I really, really am glad I took that jump a few days ago, man!

Thank you everyone for reading my ramblings, and I’ll see you in the day after with the next review! Thank you for sticking with me! Buh-bye!

- Xue

[collecting-stories]

The House Party - ep.03 - JJ Maybank

Summary: Things start to heat up as the week reaches its midway point and you make a decision that changes everything.

A/N: Mild smut at the very end of the chapter. 

The S’week Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

///

You weren’t sure how many times you would have to brush your teeth to get the taste of last night out of your mouth but the three times you already had clearly weren’t enough. It wasn’t alcohol, in fact you’d woken up more sober than you expected to be, almost leaning off the edge of your bed, tucked into your blanket, with JJ laying on top of the bedding beside you. It was all very ‘one motel bed’ trope-ish but you’d both been so exhausted last night that you couldn’t even enjoy the implications of it. An ice cube tray of melted aloe vera sat on the night stand and you brought it down with you to the kitchen to refreeze when you decided coffee might help the taste that wouldn’t leave your mouth. 

To put it the only way you knew how, a way JJ would have definitely put it, you tasted kook trash every time you swallowed and it wasn’t going to go away anytime soon, at least not while Rafe was two houses down from you. 

“Morning,” Pope voice half startled you as you entered the kitchen to find him sitting at the island eating cereal. 

“How is it possible that you look so normal?” You asked, grabbing a bowl for some cereal yourself. Breakfast was a good distraction from your phone and the taste in your mouth. 

“You mean as opposed to John B and Sarah who decided to parent trap it on a floatie in the pool?” He asked, turning for emphasis to look outside where your best friend and her boyfriend were indeed asleep on a floatie in the pool. 

“Exactly.” 

“I’m not a big drinker.” He shrugged. “What about you?”

“Am I a big drinker?” You asked. 

“No, how did you end the night?” 

You nodded your head slowly, realising what he was getting at with his question. “JJ was sick, I figured it was better to come back here than make him stay at the party.” 

“Sure.” He agreed though it sounded empty, “did you hook up?” 

“What?” 

“Look, I know how JJ parties, he’s my best friend. And I know what his ‘senior week plans’ were before Sarah hijacked them to come down here. I wouldn’t put it past him to alter them. You know, have sex with as many girls as he can in the keys. Host included.”

“We didn’t have sex.” You replied. 

He stared at you for a full minute, not saying anything, as if the look on his face alone would crack you into admitting some misdeed. And it probably would have if any had occurred. 

“We didn’t have sex, I swear to god.” You reiterated. “It is what I said it is. JJ was throwing up in the bathroom and I brought him back here so he could rest. That’s all that happened.” 

“With JJ.” Pope scoffed. 

“Whoa, where’s the displaced animosity coming from...pretty sure you’re in my house.” 

“Yeah and JJ is my best friend. I don’t want you stringing him along for the week cause you’re bored and you wanna make your ex jealous or something.” Pope replied.

“You literally just got done telling me that JJ wanted to sleep his way around s’week but I’m the bad guy in your head because of some proposed plan I have to ‘make my ex jealous’?” You questioned. “That’s un-fucking-believable.”

“It would be if I hadn’t seen you in the hallway with your ex right before you left with JJ.” 

“You’re delusional. My ex who? Just cause I was talking to some guy-“

“You weren’t talking and it was Rafe.” 

You shut your mouth, lips pressed together in a line as you tried to think of something to say. Sure, it was common knowledge amongst your friend group that you and Rafe had been hooking up for the better part of two years but that was over and you really didn’t think it was the kind of thing that pogues talked about. And you trusted Sarah not to have blabbed about it to anyone else. 

“How’d you know-“ 

“How’d I know you and Rafe were a thing? Sarah’s not the only one here that knows you. I’ve seen him at your house before when I delivered groceries, not so hard to put two and two together.” 

“Well me and Rafe are over.” 

“You didn’t look over.” Pope challenged. 

“Oh well, thank you for interpreting two fucking minutes of my life and deciding how I feel about something.” You snapped, “I didn’t want him to kiss me okay, I told him to leave me alone. It shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that the word no isn’t exactly a part of his vocab.”

Before Pope could say anything back the sound of footsteps on the stairs caught your attention. Both of you looked toward the staircase in time to see JJ appear, shirtless with just a pair of swim shorts on. His shoulders and chest were red but not as burnt as his back, which you caught a glimpse of as he trudged passed you, not in the high spirits he had been yesterday morning. 

“Dude, your back looks painful.” Pope commented, staring at the expanse of angry red skin that looked more ready to blister than anything. 

“It feels painful too.” JJ grumbled. So far he was 0-3 with vacation. He was stuck in this kook house (which really wasn’t so bad but he enjoyed bitching about it), he was sunburnt to hell, and he’d wasted an entire night of partying throwing up from sun-poisoning (though that worked out in his favour too because he definitely enjoyed the part where he sat on your bed and you rubbed aloe ice cubes on his back and basically took care of him). 

“Guess the beach is out of the question?” Pope asked, getting up to put his bowl in the sink. 

“I can go to the beach.” 

“You definitely can’t.” You replied, coming around to look at JJ’s back. He was sitting on one of the stools, slumped over. “You shouldn’t get anymore direct sun on your back.” 

“Oh cool, I’m so glad I came all the way down to fucking Florida to sit in a house all day and do shit.” 

“Sorry man,” Pope said, though he made no offer to stay at the house. Yesterday had been great and he was looking forward to going to the beach again today with Kiara. John B and Sarah had mentioned tagging along but he knew they’d eventually go off to do their own thing. 

“We could go to the boardwalk?” You offered, ignoring the look that Pope sent your way. You knew he was just being a good friend, looking out for someone he cared about, and it made you wish that Sarah knew enough to do the same for you. 

“What will we do on the boardwalk?” JJ asked, curious enough that he wasn’t immediately rejecting the idea. 

“There’s a water park there and an arcade, plus you know, tons of food.” You shrugged, “I know you wanna go to the beach-“

“I can be persuaded.”

“I think you already have been.” Pope commented. 

The three of you turned your attention to the stairs as Kiara came down, already dressed for the beach. When she saw the three of you in various states of sleepwear she rolled her eyes, “hey Kie be ready early so we can all go to the beach together.” 

“Technically, Sarah said that and she’s passed out in the pool still.” Pope replied, pointing out the glass doors to where the floatie was still carrying John B and Sarah on the water. 

“Let’s wake ‘em up then.” JJ slipped passed you, winking, before he ran outside, jumping into the pool and landing directly on top of John B and Sarah. 

You, Pope, and Kiara rushed to the doors in time to see the floatie flip over, all three teens going under as Sarah shrieked and John B tried to grab any part of the inflatable raft. Sarah surfaced immediately after JJ, throwing her body on him and wrapping her arms around his neck as she tried to push him under. 

“You asshole!” She screamed when JJ ducked under the water, twisting in her arms and grabbing her waist so that he could throw her off him. 

You watched them for a minute longer, as John B finally got involved, before heading back into the house and going upstairs to change. You’d left your phone plugged in the bathroom outlet while you were sitting with JJ and you picked it up now to check your messages. Two from Rafe and one, unsurprisingly, from Topper. It’d been him at the end of the hall that called Rafe away from you. 

-You okay?- was all the text said and you quickly responded. 

-Nothing happened. Thx-

You deleted the messages from Rafe without looking at them. You could hear everyone come in the kitchen, footsteps on the stairs as John B, Sarah, and JJ came up to change. You pulled on a crop top and some shorts, pocketing your phone before hurrying downstairs. 

Kiara and Pope were back to hanging around the island, talking to each other about their plans as you entered. 

“Hey, do you guys wanna meet up later on the boardwalk?” Kiara asked, “we could do dinner or something?”

“Sounds good to me.” You replied, grabbing your backpack from the chair and making sure that you had everything you needed. “There’s a pizza place near the South street entrance that has incredible food, plus it’s super cheap.” 

“I do love cheap food.” 

-

You had locked your shorts and your backpack in the rented locker of the water park along with JJ’s backpack before the two of you headed for any of the rides. Both your phones locked away in your backpack, cutting you both off from the rest of the world for however long JJ felt like staying at the water park. 

“So? Where to first?” You asked as JJ stopped in front of a mounted map of the park. It wasn’t as big as Dorney or Six Flags but it was pretty expansive for being an extension of the boardwalk. 

“Shush, I’m consulting the map.” 

“Consult the bones,” you said and JJ laughed, casting you a glance before going back to the map. 

“Come on,” he grabbed your hand suddenly, having zeroed in on a ride titled the constrictor, 450 feet of enclosed water slide and the two of you were going down it. 

He weaved his way through the crowd of people, leading you closer and closer to the line for the slide. Most people were at the beach on the weekdays which meant a shorter wait line, something JJ was happy about. It was bad enough he was spending his day at some dumb water park with you, he didn’t want to have to wait in line too. Although, he hadn’t let your hand go yet. 

“Should I mention before or after we ascend these stairs that I have a mild fear of heights?” You asked, taking the raft that was offered to you by the water park employee. 

“It’s fine,” JJ assured you, “here go ahead of me.” 

“How does this help?” You asked as you stepped in front of him onto the first stair. 

JJ shifted his raft under his arm, pressing it against his body and holding onto the railing while he used his other hand to hold you, fingers brushing the skin above your bikini bottoms as he held your waist. “See.”

You bit your lip and took a deep breath, “yeah I see.” 

The rest of the way up the stairs JJ kept his hand on either your waist or your back. He wasn’t too thrilled with heights either though focusing on the peach bikinis bottoms you wore, little pineapples polkadotting them. He could imagine you totally smacking him in the face of you knew but he’d take his chances. 

As sly as he might’ve thought he was being you knew he was looking. When you turned around at the first platform before the stairs twisted you caught him looking down, eyes darting up quickly when he realized you were looking at him. You didn’t say anything, just turned back around so he wouldn’t see the satisfied smile on your face.  

“You ready for this?” JJ asked as you stepped onto the final platform, JJ stepping up behind you.

“I’ll see you at the bottom Maybank.” You replied, stepping over to your slide while JJ got set up at his.  

You liked waterparks for the lazy rivers and the wave pools and those crazy contraptions for kids that looked like towering pipes and dumped water on you. Even the log flume was fun. But giant enclosed slides that shot you through winding loops for endless feet until finally dumping you in a pool? Not your favorite. But as you looked over at JJ, who flashed you a thumbs up, you were having trouble thinking about the things you didn’t like.  

The slide was over before you knew it and you were climbing out of the pool, JJ standing on the side waiting for you. “How did you beat me?”  

“I’m like speed racer,” he said, making a wooshing sound as he glided one hand under the other like a wave.  

“Well, speedracer, what next?” You asked, taking off your soaked shirt and wringing it out as you followed JJ back to the map. “Are we consulting the map again?”

“What you think I memorized it?” He asked, looking back over his shoulder at you and grabbing your hand when a woman with a stroller tried to squeeze between the two of you.  

-

By the time you and JJ met up with Kiara and Pope and made it back to the house Sarah was already setting up for a party. John B had obviously been enlisted to help as he was trying to adhere light stripes at the top of the wall in the living room.  

“What’d you do rob a liqour store?” You asked, grabbing the leg of the ladder he was on when he leaned to far to the left.

“Feels like it.” John B replied, “Sarah filled a cart. We’re either having a party or she’s turning into everyone’s alcoholic grandmother.”  

“We’re having a party!” Sarah called, coming in from the pool area, “it’s exactly what we need.”

“Why do we need to host a party?” Kiara asked, looking back at JJ and Pope but they just shrugged, obviously not willing to get involved.

“Because morale is low here people.” Sarah replied, “and it’s senior week, duh.”

“Duh.” You repeated, raising your eyebrows and grinning at JJ who laughed. Sarah watched the interaction skeptically, as far as she knew John B’s best friend had complained of nothing but a bad time. Now he was joking with you like the two of you were friends.

“Can I talk to you,” she grabbed your arm to pull you out of the room, “Pope hold the ladder!”

“Oh cool the bathroom.” You muttered as she dragged you into the hall powder room, shutting the door behind her and trapping the two of you in the crammed space. “What’s up?”

“What’s up? What’s going on with you and JJ?”  

“Didn’t we do this literally yesterday?” You questioned, “I said then and I'll say now, JJ and I are barely friends.”

“Except when I texted Kie earlier cause I couldn’t get a hold of you she said you and JJ were on the boardwalk together.”

“Oh, oh my god Sarah, you’re right, something is clearly ‘going on’ because I went on the boardwalk with someone instead of just ignoring the people living in my house.” You rolled your eyes at her accusation that something was going on though you sincerely hoped something was.  

When she finally released you from the bathroom the two of you resumed getting ready before you changed into something more appropriate for the party. NC parties were slow going in the early hours until they finally picked up, mostly just crowds of people crammed in an empty rental or spread out on the beach. House parties in the Keys happened a little more erratically. People showed up while it was still light out, hanging around the pool drinking and shit talking until it got dark and they all migrated inside, drunk off their asses and louder than necessary.  

You had moved the table and chairs in the dining room and pushed all the furniture back in the living room for good reason because the minute the sun went down it felt like everyone was spilling back into the house for part 2. You were in the kitchen, ignoring most everyone there, watching JJ set up a shot for Kiara.  

“Is it lime and then salt or salt and then lime?” He asked, glancing at you.  

You were leaned against the counter beside him and Kiara was on the other side with Pope, who already said twice he wanted no part in this. “Lime first, how else does the salt stick right? I don’t remember...I know how to do a body shot.”

“Are you offering?” The grin on JJ’s face as he asked had you practically melting in your spot.

“Guys!” Kiara leaned across the island, snapping her fingers, “can we please just do the shot!”

“Right, sorry.” You apologized, grabbing the bottle of tequila to pour for them.  

While the three of you were talking Pope spun in his chair, observing the louder parts of the party that was raging on the first floor. There were a few people lingering in the kitchen with you, mostly to be closest to the alcohol, but otherwise everyone was contained to the living room, dining room, and pool. When he looked out the glass doors to the pool area he frowned, “hey guys, look who showed up.”

You looked out the door to see Topper on the patio chatting with some local. “I’ll be right back.”

“Can we just enjoy the party?” Pope called though you were already slipping out the door.

“Top,” you called not caring that you were interrupting him, “can I talk to you?”

He apologized to the girl before placing his hand on your back and leading you further away from the party, stopping once the two of you had stepped onto the sand path down to the beach. “Look, someone texted Rafe about the party alright.”

“Well I don’t want you guys here.” You replied, “you weren’t invited by me and it’s my house.”

“Hey come on, you know me alright, I’m not trying to start anything-”

“Doesn’t sound like the Topper I know.”  

“That wasn’t me alright, Sarah made me a little crazy, I'll admit. But I’m over that.” Topper replied. “I don’t understand why you and Rafe broke up and suddenly you can’t hang with any of us.”

“Are you still friends with Rafe?”  

“That’s not fair, we’ve been-”

“I don’t care. You know what happened. You want me to be friends with you Top? After what you and Kelce did. Look, thanks for last night but I don’t need your guilty conscience looking out for me. I need you to get your boys and get the fuck out my house.”

“Putting on the tough act for Topper?” Rafe’s voice came from behind you and you closed your eyes, jaw tensing at the sound.  

“It’s fine man, we’re just talking.” Topper replied, stepping closer to you.  

You opened your eyes and turned around to see Rafe and Kelce standing there, “actually I will tell you the same thing I told Top, get the fuck off my property.”  

“Damn,” Rafe whistled, “you start hanging with the pogues and suddenly you think you’re tough shit.”

“Hey man, let’s just forget it.” Topper said, getting between you and Rafe.

Rafe put his hand on Topper’s shoulder, guiding him out of the way, “you go ahead, I need to talk to my girlfriend.”

“Ex-girlfriend.” You replied, “I said we were done and I meant it.”  

Pope had been watching you talk to Topper from the kitchen door and when he saw Rafe and Kelce join the two of you on the catwalk he’d broken up JJ and Kiara’s shot game to tell them something was going down and you were out there alone.

“Maybe she’s just talking to them.” Kiara shrugged, “I mean, she is a kook. Her and Rafe used to date too so...”

“She dated Rafe?” JJ asked, eyes wide at the implication.

“Oh yeah, she broke it off a couple times but they always got back together.  Sarah told me she thinks they might get back together again.”

Pope frowned, thinking of the way you had looked this morning when he accused you of doing just that, “I don’t think so. We should make sure she’s okay.”

“I’ll get John B.” Kiara replied, making her way to the living room to find John B and Sarah.  

JJ and Pope meanwhile, headed outside, coming up behind Kelce just as you told Rafe that you were never getting back together with him. You saw the two of them passed Kelce’s shoulder and your best at a subtle shake of the head, a silent ‘please go back inside’. But Topper saw them too and alerted Rafe to their presence.  

“Kelce wasn’t lying Maybank, you really have turned into a guard dog haven’t you.” Rafe said, turning his full attention on JJ. Topper pulled you to the other side of the path and pushed you behind him as Kiara, Sarah, and John B walked up.  

“Fuck off Rafe, you aren’t welcome here.” Kiara cut in before JJ could reply.  

“I didn’t know you owned the place.” Kelce challenged.

“I already fucking told you to go!” You said, “so go!”

Rafe only smiled, looking at JJ still, “what pair you guys make man. A bitch and her dog.”

Without warning JJ lunged forward, shoving Rafe back and swinging, trying to punch him. When Kelce tried to grab him John B intervened, getting Kelce in a choke hold. It took a second for all six of the boys to become involved in the fight as Kiara urged Sarah to call the cops. Rafe punched JJ, sending him back into the sand and getting on top of him, hitting him repeatedly while Topper held off Pope and John B and Kelce fought with each other.

“Stop it,” Kiara grabbed at Topper, trying to pull him off Pope and Sarah just stood there frozen.  

You went for Rafe, trying to push him off JJ. When you grabbed his arm he pulled away only to throw his elbow back, colliding with your stomach and sending you to the ground. It was all the momentum that JJ seemed to need to shove Rafe off him and get the upper hand, kicking him in the stomach a couple times.  

“Get the fuck out!” He shouted, spitting on your ex-boyfriend.  

Topper let go of Pope and grabbed Rafe’s arm, helping him up and pulling him away, Kelce breaking away from John B and following them back to theirs, away from the party. The six of you stood there in silence, trying to process what had just happened.

“Some party.” Pope finally said and Kiara glared at him.  

“Didn’t I say this week would be shit.” JJ said, looking over at you before turning and heading out toward the beach.  

“Let’s just go back inside.” Sarah pleaded.  

“Why were they even here?” Pope asked, casting a glance your way.

“Topper said someone texted Rafe about the party.” You said, “could have been anyone...he’s been down here with me before, he knows some of my Keys friends.”

“Whatever,” Kiara cut in, “we have three days left and I would love if we could just, not see them again for 72 hours. Is that possible?”

“I hope so.”

-

“I had a feeling you’d still be out here.” You said, walking up behind JJ on the beach. The light from the houses behind you did little to illuminate the night. The waves were lapping up the sand at JJ’s feet and he made no sign that he even knew you were there. You dropped the blanket you had around your shoulders and sat down, not bothering to straighten out the corners. “I know you’re pissed-“

“I’m not pissed.” He said, digging his heels in further. “I just...you and Rafe, seriously?” 

“It was different, at the beginning.”

“That’s just an excuse.”

“Maybe but...I was 14 when we first started dating and I really thought he liked me. But, he just liked that I was insecure and he tries to remind me of that every time he sees me.” You explained. “Rafe being down here doesn’t change what happened at the water park, I didn’t just kiss you because of him.” 

It’d happened during the lazy river ride that you had forced JJ to go on. He had spent most of the ride pushing your innertube with his foot and trying to tip you until it finally happened and you went over, sputtering to the surface and trying to grab at your inflatable tube as passersby tried to avoid the two of you. You’d pushed his innertube over in retaliation and he’d abandoned it to grab you and try to dunk you underwater.

Serendipitous maybe, as you twisted in his arms, turning to face him, he’d leaned down and kissed you.  

“He keeps showing up.”

“I didn’t invite him.” 

JJ looked back at you before rubbing the heel of his hand across his cheeks and sniffing to get rid of the literal waterworks he’d been two seconds away from. This wasn’t the vacation he had signed up for. And maybe there had been some good parts so far but the complicated bits were starting to outweigh everything else. Still, he shifted back so he could sit on the blanket with you; a step in the right direction you hoped. 

“What’s in the bag?” He asked, looking over at the backpack you’d carried all the way out here with you. 

“I didn’t think you would want to go back to the party so I brought the party with me.” You replied, unzipping the main compartment to reveal the alcohol you had swiped from the house. “I don’t know if you wanna party with me-“

“Shut up and pass me a beer.” 

You smiled, grabbing a beer from the bag and handing it to JJ. Without warning he grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward him, leaning back on his other elbow as he did. You caught yourself, pressing your hand into the blanket to hold yourself up and realizing you were hovering over him. 

“I, uh-“ you stammered, licking your lips briefly before JJ let go of your wrist and put his hand on the back of your neck, leading you into a kiss. You kissed back, ignoring the feeling of the beer bottle cap scratching your hand as you shifted to be closer to JJ, moving your knee between his legs so you were almost straddling him. 

“Are you sure?” You asked when you pulled away to move your hand from the beer bottle. You frowned when you glanced at it, holding it up so JJ could see the cut. He took your wrist, kissing over the small cut on your palm. “I’m not really good at casual things,” you admitted.  

“Is that what this is?”

You shook your head before leaning in to kiss him again. While you held yourself up with the hand that had been cut by the beer bottle your other hand moved to JJ’s stomach, fingers slipping beneath his shirt and dancing along the soft skin of his abdomen, just above his shorts. His grip on the back of your neck tightened ever so slightly as he held your face to his, pulling out of the kiss for the briefest of moments to look at you, “Are you sure?” He repeated your question though it had a different meaning.

“Yeah.” You nodded. It was dead on the beach this time of night and you were far enough down toward the water that no one could really see you from the houses though that didn’t stop this from being the most daring thing you’d ever done.  

JJ shifted so that he was laying back on the blanket, pushing the backpack away from his body as you straddled his waist. His hands went to your hips, running over your ass and settling on the backs of your thighs when you leaned all the way forward to kiss him, bodies practically pressed together. You kissed along his jaw and down his neck, sucking a bruise into his skin. JJ’s breathing picked up as your right hand moved between your bodies, fingers unbuttoning and unzipping his shorts before you slipped your hand beneath them, grasping him. JJ bit down on his lip as he moaned, the sound coming up from his chest.

You pulled away from him, cool air rushing between your bodies as you sat back on your heels. He watched you, heart pounding in his chest, as you put your hands on the waistband of his shorts, ready to pull them down, “God, why are you not in a swimsuit.”

“Excuse me for not knowing I was gonna get lucky on the beach.”

“I’m gonna leave you on the beach for saying that,” you teased.  

JJ’s hands held you in a vice grip, squeezing your hips, “not a chance.” He replied. He ran his hands up your sides to the hem of your bralette, fingers nudging the fabric up and you caught on to what he wanted, obliging him by lifting the top up over your head and tossing it to the side.  

Your original plan of action went to hell though you could be upset when JJ wrapped his arms around your back and sat himself up, knocking you back and laying you down so he could hover over you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he kissed you.  

“That was a neat trick.” You managed as he mirrored the hickey you’d left on him on your own neck. He smiled against your skin as his right hand moved across your stomach, fingers brushing against the underside of your breast. His mouth travelled down from your neck, kissing between your breasts before moving to the left, tongue darting out to flick over your nipple. His fingers twisted your other nipple at the same time and you tensed, hips shooting up to try and create some friction with his own. He sucks another bruise into your skin, just below your left breast before moving back up to kiss you.  

The new position made it easier to get his shorts and briefs down and you manage to push them down to his thighs after you rid yourself of your own shorts. JJ leans his forehead against your collar, looking down at you with a sly smile. “No underwear?”

“I was in a hurry to get dressed.” You insisted, “now shut up.”

“I’m not the chatty one.”  

“I’m not - holy shit!” You cursed as he slipped his hand between your thighs, coating his fingers before rubbing your clit. His middle finger circled the bundle of nerves before slipping down inside of you, just barely offering anything before repeating the cycle. When he kissed you he slipped his tongue in your mouth and you bit down gently, not enough to hurt him but enough to getting him going.  

You tried to press yourself up into his hand but he pushed you down, slick fingers digging into your skin as he pressed you against the blanket. You whimpered when he pushed his hips into yours, his dick rubbing over your clit and you grip his hair as he tilts his head down to kiss and nip at your breasts again.  

“Please, Jay,” you begged, unashamed and completely oblivious to your surroundings as he lined himself up and thrust in to you. He stilled for a moment once he was completely in, savoring the feeling of you until you tugged his hair. “Move.”

“God, you’re so desperate for me.” He teased, kissing beneath your chin and along your neck.  

Finally he moves, thrusting into you. His pace quickens and you wrap your arms around him, digging your fingers into his back. He groans from the almost pain of the feeling, his hips hitting yours harder to give back as much as you’re giving him. You pulled him closer so that you could kiss him again. You’d be lying if you said that you had been on edge with JJ all day. That every touch and smile, the kiss in the lazy river, it all felt like foreplay as he thrust into you now, slipping his hand between your legs to rub your clit as he did, pushing you closer to the edge.  

“JJ,” you whimpered, muscles in your stomach clenching as you felt yourself approaching your high.  

JJ pressed his face into your neck, biting again at your collar, “I know,” was all he said, repeating it again when the rhythm he’d built up wavered slightly as he felt his own release approaching, “I know.”

One hand fisted the blanket beneath you as your release hit. You came, his name the only thing you could think of, and he came right after, the feeling of you tightening around him enough to pull an orgasm out of him. JJ held himself up on one arm, trembling above you, still connected as his hips still, his eyes on yours.  

You sucked in a breath as he kissed the tender skin of your collar, red from his teeth, “have you ever gone skinny dipping?” You asked.

“Not in the Keys.” He replied, letting his upper body fall against you as well, all of him pressing into you.  

“When I can move again...want to?”

-

taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife  @freckled-and-daydreaming  @chasefreakinstokes @millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @howdyherron @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @tragicmisfits @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27 @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox @belledutchess @poguelifeeee @jjsthumbring @faded-blue @parkerpetertingle @thebookwormlife @summer-clouds-and-long-days @jellyfishbeansontoast @minigranger @louisolos @hoewkeye @love-someone-special @finecelle @vitaminekabc @tiredfeels @g4bster @strangerthanfanfiction713 @the-only-nana @tomzfrog @mozz-are-lla @vindictive-hearts @poguestyleskye @ssprayberrythings @pensysto @jenahbell @beautyandthebleh @lavenderxraindrops @gothackedalready @teenwaywardasgardian @sarahcxmeron @hvitost @haha-fuck-you-thot @stillbelieve398-5 @rewindlr @queenniccimicci @kissessforharryyy @thedarkqueenofavalon @alytavzla @bqmblebee @linniep @nerdypartytrashpsychic @xxchxrryxx @spencer-reid-is-a-cutie @mirjanak @kwjune @danielladreaming @obx-saltlife @youngestxhearts @spnobsessedmemes @wowitswondergurl @siwiecola @regev1408 @celestialmaybank @mybnkjj @averagxfangirl @mysterious-adventurer @justawilddreamerchild @rhyetaylor62 @calm-rejects @99sxuxii @oh-annaa @katiaw2 @aiifandomsunite @marteenuhh08 @x-lulu @kitkat0609 @ceruleanjj @yoxsh06 @wicked-laugh @obxwriterfan @justkeepdreamingswift @allie-mcginn @jjmaybankswife @literarycharleton @khiaraaa-in-spacee @crushe-s @teamnick @daydreamlilys @poguesnobx @collectiveuniverses @activist-af @mdgrdians @buckys-sunflower @jolomez @timotaychalabae @babycakes00 @pixelated-pogues @booksandshish @lopineapples @ponyboys-sunsets @prettyyboyspence @obxlife @downbytheouterbanks @pancakefancake @danicarosaline @sspidermanss @k-k0129 @apoguecalledjj @annedub 

[thequeenb]

Come Back (part 2)

Poppy x MC

It has been highly requested for me to continue the cheating fic.

Here you can read  part 1

I walk around the campus with Chloe and Veronica by my side. Its been three days since Bea left and it feels like eternity. Everyone looks at me weirdly ever since the incident and i honestly can't blame them. Carter never dared to approach me after he read what the T said

"So we are going to go to the veggie restaurant for lunch?" Chloe asks and Veronica shrugs

I didn't realize that they stopped walking, my eyes were fixed at the Anthropology classroom where i used to wait outside for Bea to finish. She always seemed bored as hell but every time she saw me her eyes sparkled, her smile was bright

I stop, running my hand through the door watching Miss Kingsley sitting on her desk. Our eyes lock and for just a moment i feel ashamed, before i remember who i am.

"Can i help you Miss Min-Sinclair?" she politely ask and i hesitate to walk in

Who can help me? The one girl i let inside my heart left and its all my fault. What could she do? Bring her back?

Regardless i walk further looking around the classroom. My gaze falls to Bea's seat, she always sat there so she could easily text me during boring lessons. I chuckle remembering how many photos i sent her just so i could provoke her

Without thinking twice i walk towards that spot sitting down gracefully. Miss Kingsley seems to pick up with me and she comes to sit down next to me

"I know you miss her, we all do but we cant control everyone's decisions, only ours"

Normally i would roll my eyes ignoring every criticism because Queens don't make mistakes but she is right, and it hurts my ego even more

"You read that trashy blog don't you? Everyone did and now they hate me even more" i sit back thinking how Bea used to sit right here, being happy..free

"I try to avoid it but Bea told me that she won't attend my classes for the rest of the semester" she takes a deep breath

"She seemed sad, that means what she felt was real enough to break her when you--"

"Don't even say it" i try not to tear up but i cant. The images of Carter grabbing my face and kissing me cant escape my mind and i let the pain take over

"So Pops, Bea Hughes huh?" Carter said approaching me. He asked to meet behind the field but i ignored the red flags, he said it was important

"Is that why you asked me to meet up? So we could analyze my relationship? Maybe we can have a sleepover like besties do" i roll my eyes ready to storm off but he grabs my hand pulling me against him

"Don't run before you can walk Pops, after all we don't want Bea to know about our negotiation" his hand was stroking my hair but i went stiff not knowing how to react.

When we were a couple it was bearable but now all i want to do is scream. We got together for the fame, for my reputation. Because he was the football captain, its funny isnt it?

"Get your hands off of me Carter" i manage to say but he just smirks

"You know i can get her expelled with one phone call" his laughter echoed and my heart stopped beating

I didn't realize how close he was until he leaned in capturing my lips. A bright flash hit my eyelids. I gasp in surprise pulling him immediately away

"You are so disgusting" i storm off not wanting him to see my vulnerability. Tears ran down my face but back then i didn't think much of it but now i know that was his plan.

I come back to painful reality. Miss Kingsley holds my hand and i feel tears run down my face. Fuck don't show how weak you actually are

"She went back to Farmsville, you still have time" she gave me a faint smile and i throw my arms around her

"Thank you" i whisper in her ear while she pat my back not knowing how to react. I pull away adjusting my clothes, ready to pack my bags

____

"I can't believe you are back! I am so glad" And here she is, my childhood best friend wrapped her arms around me suffocating me in her hug

"Wow there, you will kill me" i laugh embracing her tightly. After everything i have been through seeing Charlie is like a dream come true

She pulls away, her smile never fading away and it warms my heart. She always knew when i was upset but never said a thing, she tried to bring my mood back in her own way

"Come on! The dinner awaits for us" i link out hands together walking down the road of Farmsville. I missed the fresh air, the people who knew me since i was little

Here you don't have to fight for respect because its something you deserve regardless. No ranks, no drama, no sassy students. Just me, nature and my best friend

We finally arrive at the dinner and we sit down to the booth we always do. I sink to my seat and oh god, i missed this place

"So tell me everything, we didn't had a lot of time to talk" Charlie says excitedly, thinking i will tell her my happy adventures but my mind keeps drifting to Poppy

I brush these thoughts away smiling "This is going to be a long ride"

We enjoyed our food chatting about the T, the professor, my plan to take Poppy down, how amazing Zoe is and how extra mean people used to be when i first went there

"Oh wow, they really have a blog to embarrass students?" Of course she is shocked, so was i and honestly every logical human would. But the students of Belvoire created a world of their own

"You have no idea, they made fun of everything i did" i roll my eyes but then laugh "soon enough they ate from my palm, silly rich kids"

"I am glad you came back, it sounds toxic" oh Charlie you have no idea

I gaze at the window remembering how much i wanted to take Poppy here. She always laughed at the thought but i know deep down she would like nothing more. I wanted us to walk down the empty streets, take her to my parents farm and watch the sunset, do everything she didn't let herself do

Charlie seem to notice my distant stare and pats my hand "Hey what's wrong? I knew something happened, your social media was filled with happy moments"

I don't dare to look at her because she knows me too well at this point

"What made you decide to leave?" she places her hand on my shoulders pulling me into a side hug

"Remember the mean girl i told you about? We were dating" i exhale heavily, my mind racing with that damn image of her and Carter making out

I fill her in with the details, sometimes i smile missing our happy moments. But then i show her the image and my tears threaten to escape. How could she do this to me? After everything that we had been through

"Oh sweetheart i am so sorry" she says hugging me tightly. This time i let her hold me closer.

I grip at her shirt as one simple tear turned into body wrecking sobs. Poppy's voice message still plays in my mind over and over again. She said she loves me but her actions show that she hates me. My heart breaks once more, knowing well that i will never see her perfect smile again, hear her surprisingly cute laugh

"Let it all out, i am here for you" Charlie pats my back, running slow circles with her palm. That always calms me and she knows, because ever since we were kids whenever i was in pain she was always there.

A part of me regrets leaving Belvoire but most of all i am glad i returned to a land where people are real and genuine, away from cruelty and drama..away from Poppy

I pull away wiping my eyes but before i could even pull myself together i watch a black limousine stop right outside of the dinner. Everyone looks stunned because hello? This is a small town which celebrity would visit?

"Oh my god i am sorry Bea but if this is Lady Gaga you have to take a picture of me" Charlie stands up and i roll my eyes

Some people came out of their stores wondering who this might be. We step out forming a circle on the sidewalk waiting for the mysterious rich person to reveal themselves

"This is stupid let's just go" i try to pull Charlie away but she is so stubborn, typical

Everyone whisper questioning the same thing, who the hell would be so rich and know where Farmsville even is. I sign impatiently

That until a man gets out of the car and everyone stops talking. The man walks around the car carefully opening the door. All eyes are on the limousine waiting for the person to come out

The first thing i see is a pair of red heels and then oh my god you have to be kidding me. My breath stops, everyone around me fades and my gaze is focused on her, am i dreaming?

"Bea?" Her sweet tone destroy my inside and i froze. What the hell is she doing here? How does she know where i am? I swear if Zoe told her i will kill her but oh wait she is approaching

"We need to talk"

My knees feel weak and i stop breathing for a second. I need time to comprehend that Poppy Min-Sinclair is in my town, here with me. Oh boy what did i get myself into

Tag list: @lolimugly @origmansello @greatestflirt-hero @mvalentine @otakufangirl-12 @sugarplumpnhoneybun @princessstellaris @indecisive-choices @i-loveeveryone @kiara-36 @ognenniyvolk @somewillwin @it-lives-in-braidwood-manor @ghalind @sergeant-pepper-loves-choices @dibberdipper @tyrils-star @nydeiri @justastranger-passing

[cloudshapedpatch]

take my money (take my heart, too)

the awkward julie & luke sugar daddy/baby au no one asked for

rated teen and up for swearing and semi-mature themes such as the concept of a sugar daddy/baby arrangement

no smut! insane tooth-rotting fluff tho

slow burn juke

and disaster lesbians flarrie side plot and (eventual) willex

also a coffee shop au because i said so

read on ao3 (chapter 1 and tag list below the cut)

* * * *

Julie is nervous. No, nervous is an understatement. Her knees bounce uncontrollably under the table, shaky fingers twirling the straw in her iced coffee. And the knot in her stomach seems to grow ever tighter.

She pulls out her phone to check the time for the third time this minute. How is it still 10:57 am? Just as she is about to put her phone back in her pocket, it buzzes with an incoming text from her best friend/roommate, Flynn.

Flynn: calm down

Julie smiles despite herself, turning around to look at her friend a few tables away. Thank goodness for her friend, willing to throw away a morning to make sure she is safe and comfortable on her blind date. She shoots Flynn a small smile. Flynn, to their credit, is taking their job very seriously, wearing an absurdly large sunhat and sunglasses, sipping on a mug of hot tea with a decoy book under her nose.

Julie turns to anxiously watch the baristas, moving around the small space with ease, mixing drinks hot and cold alike. Twirling around each other without even looking. And she lets her mind wander.

How had she gotten here? Waiting for a man whom she had never spoken to, let alone seen? And she isn’t counting their text messaging. Not really. Not even if they had been talking for weeks. Not even if they regularly stayed up well into the night just to keep talking to the other. Not even if he had her blushing furiously, toes curling from giddiness and hiding under her sheets, smiling at the flirtatious speech bubbles on her phone for longer than she’d like to admit.

Because that doesn’t count. She has never heard his voice. She has never seen what he looked like. Anyone could be a charmer, and she is undoubtedly nervous about who she might find walking through the door and towards her.

How had she gotten here? It is a simple question, and one she has the answer to. Doesn’t mean she likes it. She had made an offhand comment to Flynn at work one day. Julie is sick of working 12 hour days in the cafe (not this one. she would be dumb to meet a stranger in her workplace) and barely scraping by. She had joked she needed someone to fund her shopping sprees.

Flynn had suggested a sugar daddy.

Julie wants to bang her head on the table. Past Julie is an idiot. And now Present Julie is going to pay the price.

Why had she let Flynn convince her to download that dumb app?

(Because she has a virtually useless college degree, bills to pay, and school loans creeping up on her and she is cutting back every month. Living in L.A. isn’t cheap.

And, if she really lets herself think about it, Julie is lonely.)

She checks her phone again, pleased to find it is finally 11 am. He should be here any minute. Luke should be here any minute.

Is it a red flag that he had only been willing to share his first name? Should it have concerned her that he didn’t have a profile picture on his online dating account? Is she dumb for letting him change the subject every time she asked about his job? Solid ‘maybe’s to all of those, but! After they had started talking, they had instantly clicked. He loves music almost as much as she did, maybe even more. They bonded over that, and many other things.

This is fine.

She straightens her posture, glancing down at her dress to make sure all is in order. It’s baby blue with golden sunflowers all over, and she had slipped a cropped denim jacket on top, the one with patches of all her favorite bands. She fusses with the loose curls hanging by her face, her hair pulled into a half bun at the top of her head, leaving a clear view of her sunflower earrings. It’s the perfect outfit to be noticed in, she had told him she’d be wearing blue and sunflowers, certainly he wouldn’t miss her.

Whenever he decided to show up.

Wait. he would show up, wouldn’t he?

Of course he would.

...Right?

Before she can get too far down that rabbit hole, the chime above the door is jingling, and Julie has to fight hard not to turn and see who it is. The anticipation crawls up her spine and settles in her neck, jaw tingling.

A man comes in, approaching the counter with confidence in his step. One barista takes one look at him and gapes like a fish, turning to a coworker to nonchalantly point at him. Both girls look at each other and quietly squeal, letting one of the male cashiers help him.

Must be attractive, she thinks, and she isn’t disappointed by what she can see from the back. His sleeves are short, showing off his muscular arms and he’s tall. She’s always liked tall men.

Supposedly handsome stranger orders his drink and waits at the counter for it. One of the girls hands it to him with a gleeful smile. He accepts, then says something to her before the girl’s smile falters and points right at Julie.

Wait, she’s pointing at Julie?

Definitely handsome stranger follows her finger and lands on Julie, eyes scanning up and down her body (at least, what he can see from above the table), his face instantly lighting up in the most gorgeous smile she’s ever seen.

And then he’s turning back to say thank you and then making his way towards her and oh no what what what--

Because this isn’t her date. It can’t be, right? But Luke Patterson is stepping up to her booth, sliding into the seat across from her.

“Hey, you’re Julie, right?” His voice, sweet and thick as honey, and Julie would know that voice anywhere.

“Luke Patterson? You… you didn’t say--” She cuts herself off before she can say something foolish.

Because there is no way in hell she’d unknowingly put up her sugar baby services to Luke fucking Patterson. Not rockstar Luke Patterson. Not lead guitarist and singer and songwriter for her favorite band, Sunset Curve. Not literally in the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame Luke Patterson.

“Yeah, about that… I am really sorry about not telling you. It’s just not something I like mentioning to everyone I meet, you know?”

She’s having a hard time processing what he’s saying. He’s so close. Why is he leaning on the table like that? Why is he so close?

“Yeah! Yeah, totally. That’s understandable.” She laughs nervously, taking a sip of her coffee to avoid speaking any further.

“This… this is okay, right? You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” This clears her mind a bit. She takes in the way his hands fiddle with the rings on his fingers, his shoulders raised, and while his smile is easygoing, his eyes say otherwise. Why would she be mad?

She expresses this to him, and he just looks at his hands.

“Well, because I wasn’t completely truthful with you. And I totally understand if you want to walk away.”

“No!” She says before she can filter herself. His eyebrows raise in amusement. “I mean, it’s fine! I was just… surprised, that’s all.”

And surprised is correct. Luke Patterson is the same Luke she’s been talking to for the last three weeks, the very same one who’s been making her laugh and who’d almost made her miss work last week because they had texted about everything and nothing until the sun came up.

He seems to like her answer. His smile never leaves his face.

“You seemed to recognize me. You a fan of Sunset Curve’s?”

And maybe it’s the way his cocky smile burns her cheeks, or just the fact that he’s talking to her. Panic sets in and she lies.

“Never heard of Sunset Swerve.”

“You knew my name.”

“You know it’s a household name, right?”

“Your jacket says otherwise.”

And shit. She had forgotten about the Sunset Curve patch right over her heart. In fact, it was the first patch she had put on the jacket. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“Fine. You caught me. I’m a Curver. Happy?”

And though she’s teasing, he couldn’t seem to be happier. Seriously, she’s worried his dopey grin is gonna break his face. Then an ugly, ugly thought rears its head in her mind.

“Wait. You let me gush about Sunset Curve so many times and you didn’t say anything?” Her sentence ends in a laugh.

“Oh, Julie, I wanted to so bad. You have no idea!”

Julie finds herself not really registering the second half of his sentence. She had missed it, the first time he said her name due to being starstruck, and her face warms a bit when she recalls just how good her name had sounded when he said it. Like a splash of cool water on a hot day. Like sap dripping fresh from a tree, glinting in the sunlight.

“Then why didn’t you?”

He sobers a bit at this, though his eyes still hold the same fire as before. “Well, I didn’t really want to go around announcing that. Can you imagine how many matches I’d get if I put that little tidbit in my bio?”

Julie laughs at this, the absurdity of it hitting her. Of course. He’d want someone who’d like him for him, not for his status, or name, or fame or money.

Oh. Shit. She was literally here for his money.

“For sure! Must’ve been hard.”

“Oh, not really. I matched with you on day one and deleted the app once we exchanged phone numbers.”

“Really?” Julie felt a little guilty for still having the app on her phone now, even after she was pretty sure Luke was a good match. There was still the possibility that mystery man was a total creep. If she’d have known who he was, on the other hand…

“Totally! I’ll be honest, my bandmates put me up to this, but once we started talking I just knew I had to meet you.”

Julie’s mind still feels a bit foggy, like she was dreaming. A fantastic dream, might she add.

“I’ve been really excited to meet you too. My best friend also convinced me to get the app. She’s actually over there.” Julie smiled, nudging her head over towards her friend, where they were certainly trying their best to eavesdrop.

“Brought a plus one, I see?” Luke chuckled, giving Flynn a wave. Flynn hid her already shielded eyes from view with her book.

“Hey, you gotta remember I was meeting someone whom I had never seen before, and the fact that I didn’t know your last name was not helping.”

Luke’s smile turned bashful again. “Ah. She’s backup.”

“Yep! But I think they’re good to go.” Julie whipped out her phone and sent Flynn a quick message, relieving her of her duties.

“You sure? I might kidnap you.”

“I’d let you kidnap me.”

Oh god. She so did not say that.

He seemed to think it was funny. At least she was amusing. At her own expense, maybe, but amusing nonetheless.

Amusing to Luke Patterson.

If she doesn’t stop saying his last name, she’ll go insane. This is just the dorky guy she’s been talking to. The one she’ll hopefully get to talk to tomorrow.

Despite the rocky start, Julie would say it was a successful date. Coffee turned into lunch at a nearby bistro, and he walked Julie to her car a few blocks away. She didn’t get to her apartment until after 4 o’clock, and Flynn was waiting with two glasses of wine in their shared living room. Julie is eager to spill all the details, and Flynn is the perfect listener, oohing and ahhing at all the right moments.

As Julie crawls into bed after her eventful day, her phone dings on her nightstand.

PayPal: Luke Patterson sent you $500.00  “I had a great time today :) hope to see you again soon!”

Well. If she had calmed down any, this just undid all of her efforts. A wave of guilt floods over her. The concept of a sugar daddy sort of seemed too outlandish to really fathom. But now she feels awful taking his money.

She’s really doing this, isn’t she?

Julie: you really didn’t have to

Luke: but i wanted to

Luke: it’s ok tho right?

Julie: i guess it’s fine, it’s just a lot of money

Luke: i realise how conceited this is going to sound but its no sweat off my back. just think of it as a gift

Gifts. She could live with that.

* * * *

taglist! @ladyblanche :)

[lesbianlovelanguage]

YOUTUBER AU I’m such a fucking sucker for those. It can be anything you want really. Maybe they are friends doing a challenge or something and they end up kissing (or more ;)) or they could meet each other at like a creator even and take a pic together and everyone starts to ship them... :)

HI! Anon I am so sorry, life has been *general handwaving* a MESS. But, I’ve finally gotten most of my shit together and look! A fic! Finally!!! I hope you enjoy two ridiculous boys being ridiculous.

---

“You guys asked for it, and here it is. The explanation to Bendy and the Ink Machine! Now, I’ve watched a ton of playthroughs of this, especially The RatKing’s, as well as played through it myself, and I think I’ve got it.” 

Such a simple statement, it made it through both of the editors as well as Steve and Dustin themselves without raising any red flags. But as with everything, once it had been released on the internet it became fuel for fans to break apart and over analyze. 

The comments started pouring in, the standard mix of support and people trying to break apart his theory. But one comment in particular would stand out and begin something so much bigger than itself. 

Twenty minutes after Steve had pressed upload, someone with the username Random Hoe posted a comment saying Awe! A collab between you and Billy would be totes amazing!! While an innocent comment in itself, it began to pick up steam as people ranted and demanded for the two popular youtubers to interact more. It turned from video ideas to outright shipping within two hours, and only five hours after the video had been up, people began tagging Steve on Twitter with everything from edited screen grabs to fanart and video edits, all about Steve and Billy’s secret yet undying love for each other. 

Steve had almost quit Youtube as the fanbase for what had been dubbed “Stilly” steadily grew and became all the more ravenous. There were less and less comments and reactions to his theories, whether movie, video game, or even book related, and more and more comments about how he needed to do a collab with Billy ASAP, and how he’s queerbaiting, and how it’s okay to come out, it was 20Gayteen after all. He had tried to do damage control, but it only made things worse. 

And then someone showed Billy, and Steve not only wanted to quit Youtube, but also crawl under a rock. 

Billy’s only reaction to someone sending him a picture of Steve and Billy during a live stream was “Nice art, like the hair,” but Steve could have sworn his mouth twitched down in a grimace before Billy recovered his composure. 

But Dustin had convinced Steve to keep going, and with two months of no recognition or new content, the frenzy of Stilly shipping died down. It never disappeared, but no one sent anymore art to Billy and stopped tagging Steve in all of their posts. That had been in February. 

Vidcon was in June, and Stilly was the least of Steve’s worries. He’d been asked to host a panel on the new game show he and Dustin had begun hosting on Youtube TV about pop culture trivia, and then host a live episode with various Youtube guests as competitors. It promised to be relatively simple, a simple explanation of the origin and behind-the-scenes and a simple Q&A session followed by what he spent every Thursday doing for the past two months. And it was, him and Dustin breezing through the panel bouncing off of each other and the first round of Did You Know? You Don’t Say? flying by as the famed beauty guru aced almost every question. But once the second guest stepped on stage, Steve knew it was all going to go to shit. 

Because Billy Hargrove, The Rat King himself, swaggered out on the stage in flip flops and an Everlast crop top and flopped into the contestant’s chair with a smirk. Steve froze, mouth suddenly drier than a desert. 

Luckily, Dustin didn’t even stutter. “Ah! The next victim. Should we go easy on him?” He waggled his eyebrows as he asked the audience. The audience shouting brought Steve out of his daze, and with a shake of his head, he turned and spread his arms out wide. 

“Well then, let’s begin. So, Billy, Do you know what the rarest MnM color is?” 

The cocky smirk melted off of Billy’s face, replaced by one of thoughtful determination. He’s silent for only a moment before he looks up and says, “Brown, like your eyes, Pretty Boy.” Steve feels his pale skin flush with heat, but he coughs and tries to play it off.

“Quite the charmer there, Rat King. Luckily, your lines are actually true. One point! Let’s see it!” He calls out and then looks behind him to the television screen currently displaying the scoreboard. A large blocky 1 appears and the audience cheers. 

“Alrighty then,” Dustin says after the crowd dies down. “Next question. Billy, Do you know the original name of Istanbul?” Billy chuckles, and shakes his head.

“Easy. Constantinople.”

Dustin fake pouts and looks over to Billy. “None of that Rat King charm for me?” The audience laughs, and Billy chuckles before throwing a wink at Dustin.

“Not quite old enough to ride this ride, bud.” 

Dustin scoffs and shakes his head, making the curls bounce around wildly. “Whatever you say, old man. You did get it right by the way. Let me see another point!” Dustin mimics Steve and gestures towards the scoreboard which now shows a big, white 2. 

“Your turn, Pretty Boy. Give me something hard.”

“Alright. Let’s see.” Steve pretends to look over his notes before seeing the perfect question. “So, Billy, Do you know which two American states don’t observe daylight savings time?” Billy stares blankly at Steve. This was the final question in their lineup, but he had asked for a hard question. 

Luckily, Billy recovers quickly and clears his throat before giving another chuckle. “Damn, I know I said give me a hard one, but I wasn’t expecting that. I’m gonna go with Hawaii and Alaska?” Steve shakes his head and gives a small sigh. 

Dustin gives a little cheer, and then runs over to a table off to the side of the stage where they have a cue card that the contestant has to read off of if they lose. It was Dustin’s idea, the You don’t say? part of the title. It’s his favorite part of the show, because they get to see their contestants say some ridiculous things.

“Well, unfortunately, that was incorrect,” Steve announces over the booing audience. “And, following the rules, you now have to read whatever is on this card.” Dustin hands Billy the cue card with a wicked grin. 

Billy sighs and flips over the card. There’s a moment of silence as he reads over what the card says, and then he looks up at Steve and clears his throat.

“Would a Pretty Boy want to go out with me?” He says in a clear voice, gaze never leaving Steve’s. 

Suddenly too many things for Steve to process happen at once. He feels the heat return to his cheeks and his mouth dry out again, the audience goes wild, and a buzzer sounds, signaling that they were out of time for Did You Know? You Don’t Say? Dustin comes through and pushes a frozen Steve off-stage, where Billy is waiting in the wings. With the audience’s weighty gaze gone, the feeling returns to Steve all at once.

“What the hell man? What was that out there?” He hissed at Billy. The man simply shrugs and gives another one of his trademark smirks.

“Just giving the people what they want, Princess. Try to keep up.” And then he turns around, and walks away. Simple as that. Nothing to it. 

Steve wants to scream. Fortunately, he and Dustin have been friends for years, and he knows all of Steve’s tics by now. The stagehands shoo them from the wings, and he pulls Steve through one of the backdoors to outside the convention center. Somehow, he also procures a water bottle in the hustle, and hands it to Steve once they’re both sitting on the steps outside. Steve takes the water bottle gratefully and chugs half of it in one long gulp. He pulls it away and wipes at his face before sighing. He seems to deflate, like a balloon losing all of its helium at once, and Dustin puts an arm around him. It’s awkward because he’s shorter than Steve, but it’s still comforting nonetheless. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Dustin asks quietly.

“I- I’m so stupid. For just a second I thought it was real, but why would it be? What would someone like him see in someone like me?” Dustin lets out a huff before pulling away and turning towards Steve.

“Steve, buddy, pal o’ mine. You’re an idiot. If anything, he doesn’t deserve you. He’s a pompous ass for pulling a stunt like that. It’s bullshit.” 

“He could have anyone. Between his paycheck and his pecs, he’s one of Youtube’s hottest content creators.”

“Yeah, sure. But for the sake of alliteration, he also lacks personality. The guy’s a huge dick! And he proved it today. He knew that you wouldn’t shut him down and bitch him out on stage, so he thought it would be funny to pull that shit.”

“Yeah, he is kind of just a publicity-seeking asshole, you’re right,” Steve admits, feeling a little better, and a lot angrier. “You know what, Dusty-Poo? I’m gonna find him, and give him a piece of my mind.” He stands up, itching for a fight and knowing who to go find for one.

“Tha-that’s not exactly what I meant but sure! Go knock him down a peg.” Dustin stands up as well and follows Steve back onto the main showfloor. 

It takes about twenty minutes to find Billy amongst the crowd but Steve sees him, and locks in like a tiger stalking his prey. Or something cool like that. Thankfully, Steve doesn’t have to make a huge scene as he walks up to Billy and gets in his face. 

“You. Me. Conference Room 3. Now,” Steve says, poking a finger in the middle of Billy’s chest to emphasize his point. Billy chuckles, but still follows along as they walk into the empty conference room. Once they clear the doors and Steve hears them swing shut behind them, he turns to Billy.

“Explain. What the fuck was the point of that little,” he wavs his hand around, “stunt you pulled during the game show?” 

Billy raises an eyebrow. “Told you Pretty Boy. I gave the people what they wanted. 

“So that’s it? It was a publicity stunt?” 

“You tell me. You’re the one who started the whole thing,” Billy shoots back, still holding on to an air of nonchalance, but Steve can his patience waning.

“You- you mean the stuff from February? When I happened to mention you in one video? You think I meant for that shitstorm to start, for fun and publicity?” 

Billy only shrugs again.

“Okay. Nope. Again, I mentioned your channel one time, as a source. Gave credit where credit was due. I do it for all the channels I watch! I’ve mentioned Nancy’s channel like 8 times, and Jonathan’s too. Never had this shit started with them.”

“They’re married, Steve. Like super married. Of course it wouldn’t. We’re both single, queer youtubers. Of course shit’s gonna stop. Didn’t your agent or whoever look over your video?”

Steve huffs. “Oh yeah, let me just go hire an agent, cause I have such a need for someone to monitor my every move,” Steve snarked. Billy just looked at him like he had failed to add 2 and 3.

“You’re telling me you, part of one of the biggest channels on Youtube, don’t have an agent?” 

“We’re not one of the biggest channels, and we’ve never needed one! We’ve got our team of editors and assistants, no need for some agent.”

“Steve,” Billy says patiently, like he was explaining something to a child, “You have over 4 million subscribers. That’s a big channel.” 

“We’re still not one of the biggest channels, dipshit.”

“Oh, I'm the dipshit? I didn’t start a fucking fandom frenzy apparently by accident. Because I was smart and got a fucking agent.”

“You’re such an asshole.” 

“Whatever you say Princess.”

“Stop fucking calling me a princess!” Steve screams, voice booming in the silent conference room. “Why do you do that? Pretty Boy, Princess, Stevie? Just- just stop with the fucking nicknames. It’s not fair.” The second part of his outburst comes out as a whisper, sounding almost desperate. 

Billy was at a loss for words, but then again, he had always been more of a man of action. 

So he says nothing, only gives a seconds’ thought of what he was going to do, before lunging forward and doing it. 

Steve’s next words are muffled as Billy crashes their lips together with absolutely no finesse, teeth clacking. It probably constituted as the worst kiss Billy has ever had, but as he moves back, Steve grabs a fist full of blond locks and pulls him forward. Their 

second kiss is far better. By no means is it soft, but that was just par for the course with them wasn’t it? 

The kiss comes to a natural ending as they both pull back to breath, before Steve starts to giggle. 

“You really need to work on your pick-up lines, Rat King.”

A soft gasp from the doorway cuts off Billy’s retort, and they both turn to see a girl decked out in Youtube merch, including a jacket with the Upside Down Theories logo on it. She had dropped her backpack, and was open-mouthed gaping at the two. Her eyes are as wide as dinner plates as she frantically gathers up her backpack and shoots out of the conference room. 

“Chances that this blows up online by tomorrow?” Steve asks, turning to the blond next to him. 

“I’m betting in the next two hours, Pretty Boy,” Billy replies.

A wicked smirk creeps onto Steve’s lips as he shrugs and says, “Oops. What was that about getting an agent to help with this stuff?” 

---

Aside from this taking FOREVER, I hope you guys enjoy this! It was tons of fun to write.

tag team: @lostnoise @gideongrace @stevefuckingharrington @a-magey @catharrington @trashycatarcade @myboyfriendsteve @thesummerof84 @lightsupinthenorth @smashmouth-hargrove (lmk if you would like to be added/removed from the list!)

[unmaskedagain]

The Fast and Furious Times Of Marinette

Today I found a wonderful tag called Bio Dad AU. Best ones by @musicfeedsmysoul12 . I decided to try a quick hand at it. Weirdly enough, my first thought was the Fast and The Furious. I was a huge fan of serious before Paul Walker died. Brian O'Conner was always my favorite. This is the first fast and furious anything I’ve ever written. I’ve decided it takes place AFTER Fast 6; meaning they all got their pardons. But in this AU. Both SHAWs are alive and well and friends with the team for reason. Brian and Mia are not and have never been together. No offense, but if I’m writing a Fast and Furious fic Dom and Brian are the pairing and will be my OTP.

This is again just a quick fic.  A PURE CRACK FIC, so be warned. Might not doing anything more with it.

On with the CRACK. 

Marinette is eight-years-old when her racist grandfather tells that Tom isn’t her dad. Marinette had already been one-years-old by the time Sabine met him.

She doesn’t believe it at first but then she looks in the mirror and sees her blue, blue eyes. No one her family has eyes like hers. Then she really looks at the picture of her and her dad together realizes they don’t look alike at all. It’s not even because Marinette is biracial. There is little to no resemblance.

Her parents find her crying on her bedroom floor, clutching her phone to her chest. They are quick to try to comfort her, try to find out what’s wrong, and when they finally come her down enough for her to speak, Marinette looks at the time with big sad eyes and just asks, “Are you, my dad?”

Sabine and Tom are stunned at first, then her question hits them, and realization slowly inches onto their faces. And its all the answer Marinette needs.

Tom loves the little girl he raised so much and as much as he wished he wasn’t her biological father, “In every way that counts I am,” He assures his little girl, “Except blood. But I am your dad. You are my daughter.”

Sabine apologizes for withholding the truth for so long, “We were a family. I was scared,” She admits.

Cue huge family hug.

A few days go by before Marinette has the courage to ask about her biological father, “Who was he?” She suddenly asked. “My father?” The question caused Sabine to stumble and cause an entire cake to hit Tom in the face.

“His name is Brian,” Sabine said as she handed Marinette an old picture of a young sabine with a handsome blonde man with startling blue eyes, Marinette’s eyes, at a food truck near palm trees. “Brian O’Conner. I met him on a beach in LA. I thought he had a serial killer name. He was wild and beautiful, and so free. You’re a lot like him. You have his eyes and his smile. And his heart.”

           Marinette stared at the man in the picture, wondering if he too was clumsy if he was the reason she loved to go fast too because she liked to go really, really fast on her bike if he was where she got her daringness, her need to the right thing. “Does he know about me?”

“No,” Her mom answered, “I had already left for Paris by the time I found out. I didn’t want to upheave his life.” Truthfully, she didn’t know how to tell her daughter that her biological father had been a street racer, on the run from the police and spent quite a bit of time in hiding.

           It took an hour after Sabine left Marinette along with the picture for the young girl to get angry. Who was this man? What was so important about his life that her mother wouldn’t dare wreck. Marinette was going to find out.

           It took some time but with a little research and luck, Marinette was able to find Brian was still in L.A.

           Marinette bought a plane ticket using her mom’s credit card, packed a bag, left a note for parents, and left in the middle of the night on a flight to Los Angeles. It had been tricky. Some people asked questions but Marinette just she was visiting her dad in the U.S. She was glad her mom made her learn English as a second language, though now it was obvious as to why.

           It took a few hours and had taken a lot different buses, but Marinette found herself standing in front of a white house that was erupting with noise.

“A party?” Marinette asked quietly.

           The bluenette swallowed hard and fought the urge to run away. She had come too far. Ignored too many of her parents’ phone calls to back down. She just texted then every day that she was okay and that she would be home soon.

           Marinette rang the doorbell.

           A tall, bald, handsome, laughing black man answered the door. He nodded at the young girl, “Can I help you?” Girl scout, he thought.

           Marinette clutched the strap of her pink bag, “Is Brian O’Connor here?”

           Rome’s eyes squinted as he surveyed the girl and then he noticed her eyes. He knew those eyes. The biggest smile spread over his face. “This gonna be good,” He said. “Name’s Roman. Or Rome. Come on inside, my new favorite person in the world.”

           Marinette followed the man into the house. She was right. There was a loud, movie-worthy party going on. The music was loud, strange people were dying. She felt more than a little weary and a little claustrophobic.  She looked around but didn’t see who she was looking for.

           One by one the guest of the party noticed the little girl in pink with pigtails in the room. The music slowly died down. A scary bald man, in a dark wife-beater, with a beer (Corona, Marinette read) and had been laughing with a scruffy breaded man when she entered the room, slowly lost his smile when he noticed her.

           He was possibly the scariest man Marinette had never laid eyes on.

“YO Brian,” Roman yelled, the smile still huge on his face. “You got company!”

           All eyes turned to her. The scary man got out of his seat and stared at her.

“Oh this can’t be good,” Taj said to Suki, who nodded.

           Again Marinette fought the urge to run. She glanced at the floor and bit her lip.

“What’s up, man?” A new voice called which caused her to look back up.

           Marinette’s breath caught in her throat a blond man with a case of beers in his hand entered the room. He had aged but he was still as handsome as his picture. Her eyes suddenly stung.

           Roman waved at hand from Brian to Marinette.

           Brian looked at the girl who, to him, didn’t look much older than seven or eight, maybe. Was she lost? Did she need his help? “Can I help you?”

           Heads swerved to the girl.

“Do you remember a woman named Sabine Cheng?” Marinette asked, feeling braver at the mentioned of her mother. “She is my mother.”

           Heads swerved back to Brian. Particularly Dom’s who at a sneaking suspicion about what the hell was going on.

           Brian’s head was suddenly filled with a beautiful laughing Asian girl, with kind eyes and a don’t fuck with my personality. She had fierce and amazing. Brian had been a little disappointed when Sabine had left for France. Which explained the little girl accent. He hadn’t seen Sabine in what… seven years. A little longer.

           His blue eyes’ widened. The beers slipped from his hands and crashed hard onto the floor. “Fuck!”

That was all anyone needed to know exactly what was going on.

“This some Maury shit,” Vince said and took a swallow from here.

           Letty nodded, “You are the father.” Those eyes did not lie.

The girl’s blue eyes, his eyes, widened and she took a hasty step back when the beers crashed and shattered onto the floor. “I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have come,” She quickly said. “I’m sorry. I-”

She just wanted to meet him. She needed to meet him. Finding out her dad wasn’t really her dad, dad. Marinette just needed to do something.

Tears welled up in her eyes. Marinette turned for the door.

“That’s enough!” A strong voice said. Marinette turned to see the scary man looking directly at her. “Everyone who isn’t family out. Party’s over. You,” Dom pointed at Marinette, “Stay there.”

           There were grumbles from the party guests as they left. But Marinette was surprised just how many people stayed.

“Name’s Dom,” The terrifying guy introduced.

“Marinette,” She said back. “Do you ever lose that scary look on your face.”

“No,” Taj said. “No, he doesn’t” Dom glared at him. “That just makes it worse.”

           Brian shoved a hand through his hair. He was shaking. “Are you?” He asked. “I mean, do you like? Daughter?” He managed.

“Translation: You his kid?” Rome smirked.

           Brian nodded frantically.  Yes, that’s what he meant.

“I found out a few days ago,” Marinette shrugged. “Mom told me about you.”

“I didn’t know,” Brian suddenly blurted out. “I never knew. I swear. I’d have never. I would never. I mean, you know. I’d want to.”

“He didn’t about you,” Roman translated. “He’d never walked out on his kid.”

           Dom looked over the small, French, Asian girl who shared his husband’s eyes. There were more similarities than the obvious one; her nose, her cheekbones. There was no doubt it. Brian was a father.

           And shit, that meant Dom was a stepfather.

“So what?” Letty asked, not unkindly. “Your mom tells you about Brian and just drops you off here?”

           Marinette blushed and looked down again. It set off red flags in everyone’s head. “She doesn’t know…” She admitted. “I left her a note though!” She added.

Roman leaned against the wall. “You find out about Brian, decided what the hell, ditch Paris and run off to a California to find him, with just a note to your Ma.” He snorted. “That’s your kid, alright.”

“Shut up,” Brian hissed. He pinched his nose. “Call your mom.”

“No.”

“She needs to know your alright,” Brian insisted.

“She will,” Marinette promised. “After we talk.”

           Brian crossed his eyes and looked sternly at… his daughter, “This isn’t a negotiation.”

           Marinette crossed her arms, “Wanna bet?”

           Blue eyes and Blue eyes glared at each other. Making the resemblance between the two even more clear as, much to the occupants of the room dismay, stubbornness was inherited.

           Dom just sighed. This was going to be his life now. At least he’ll get a laugh out of watching Brian deal with a mini Brian. Stubborn, reckless, little shit that he was; he deserved a little krama.

           An hour later, it was clear Marinette had won. She got the talk she wanted. And found out some things about her new Papa. He was married to the scary guy, had been around the world, had been a cop. Loved cars. The people in the house were all family.

“Call me Uncle Rome,” Roman introduced. “I’m the reason your dad lived long enough to have you.

“Mia,” A pretty kind woman with long dark hair said, “Dom’s sister. He’s great when you get to know him.”

“Letty,” A fierce woman said.

           After that, there was Taj, Vince, Suki, Han, and quite a few others that made her head spin trying to remember them.

           Then she called her parents. They were not happy. Then Brian got on the phone to speak with her mom. He left the room.

           Within minutes there was yelling. A lot of yelling. When Brian came back, he looked angry and somewhat relieved. “You’re staying for the summer,” He told her. “We’re going to get to know each other. “You have to call home. Every. Day. Your mom will send some of your stuff.”

           The next day, Marinette and Dom found themselves sitting across from each other at the breakfast table. A protectiveness had grown in Dom over the night. Because he realized if this was Brian’s daughter, then it was his daughter.

           There was a living, breathing kid he was now responsible for too.

           Dom sat across from her and briefly wondered Mia kept any of her old barbies. And if that would be insulting to offer them to the girl. “How old are you?” He asked her.

“Eight,” She answered shyly.

           Not barbies then. Boys, then. Mia got into boys just about her age. Oh god, he can’t deal with boys right now. He’d go back to prison.

“How long have you and Papa been married?”

“Almost six years,” He answered.

“Why don’t you have kids?” She asked brightly. “Did you want kids?”

           It was a trap. Dom knew it. Brian liked to do the same thing. “We want you.”

           She smirked, “Nice answer.”

           Brian came in with plates full of pancakes a few seconds later. Marinette was pleased t see hers had a smily face.

“I was thinking we could go to the beach today,” The blond said. “Get to know each other more.” He nodded to his husband. “As a family.”

           And so they did.

           Marinette spent the entire summer with her Papa and Pops (Dom) and her newfound family, and every summer after. Through them she got into mechanics and cars. Though she still developed a love for fashion. She met a fascinating man named Shaw, and his brother, who taught her how to fight. She met a lioness of a woman named Monica and her husband Carter Verone who just taught her how to be scary.

           It was just after she turned thirteen, and she became Ladybug, did Marinette forget just how protective her family was.

           It was Sunday. There was a family barbeque. Everyone was there. Marinette was in the kitchen helping Mia clean up when she got a text from Luka. (Adrien was so not her type. Thanks to Letty, Monica, Mia, Suki, she developed a rather fierce nature and decided she’d only date guys with a backbone.) She didn’t realize as she texted back than a dreamy expression appeared on her face, because… well, Luka.

“Who you texting?” Letty asked with an eyebrow raised.

           Marinette blushed, “No one.” She hissed back.

“Does no one have a name?” Mia smiled.

           Marinette looked down, “Luka.”

“Who the fuck Luka?” Vince yelled, having overheard the conversation. “Dom you know your kid’s got some boy textin her?”

           There was a crash. A few crashes actually.

           Dom stomped in, grabbed Marinette’s phone, “NO!” he said and walked off.

           Marinette groaned. She hoped this wouldn’t be the surfer boy from down the street all over again. His family had to move.

           It was a year, and one accidentally overseen transformation did her family find out she was a superhero named Ladybug and had been fighting a terrorist for almost two years. It didn’t take long to find online videos of all her rights. Of how many times she had nearly died.

           Brian seethed in anger, unable to speak.

           Hobbs and Monica just nodded at each other. Each texting their agency of what had been taking place in Paris. Apparently, the mayor had been hiding it to prevent tourism from declining.

           Deckard Shaw was torn. On one hand, he was proud of his niece. She had handled herself well. On other hand that some of bitch Hawkmoth had to pay. No one fucked with his family. Mask or now, magical powers or not, Shaw going to find him.

               And who the hell let a teenage girl be Superhero? With not nearly enough training. That asshole was gonna pay too.

           Dom just sat his beer down, his eyes still trained on the image of Hawkmoth on the TV, the son of a bitch who had tried to kill his kid, who terrorized a bunch of school children, and all of Paris. and said, “Oh, it’s on.”

           The Fast and Furious team was going to Paris.

[spine-buster]

the storm before the calm (f. andersen) | 1

A/N: The prologue has 150+ notes...I can’t believe what a positive response it got!  Thank you so much for your support, comments, DMs, likes, reblogs, and tags!  It means the world!  Enjoy the first chapter :)

She could be at Early Mercy.

It was all Frederik could think about as he tried to celebrate Bee McTavish’s birthday.  She could be here.  She could be one of these people that keep looking at us, that keep brushing up against Auston and I trying to get our attention.  She could be one of their friends.  She could be in the washroom.  She could be coming, on her way now to Early Mercy, and she might walk through the door and I’ll see her.  It could happen.

That wasn’t to say that Fred wasn’t present and in the moment; having fun with his friends and celebrating Bee and her 24th year of life by buying drink after drink at the bar; but in the back of his mind, constantly, for the last three months – almost four – was the thought that in a random location in Toronto, in a random building, in a random place, he would lock eyes with the girl he’d seen in the middle of the night at Shopper’s Drug Mart and finally find out who she is, why she was crying, and why he was so devastatingly transfixed by her.

Fred had tried to find out who she was since then, almost obsessively so.  He was a man mesmerized and he needed to know.  He had tried to get the name of the band that performed at the function by contacting the heads of the charity, the head of public relations, the human resources manager, the man who answered the 1-800 call desk, even the poor accounts payroll manager whose email was listed on the charity’s website, but nobody would divulge the information.  He wasn’t allowed to know.  They weren’t under the discretion to divulge that information publicly (even though it was a public event).  He contacted the photographer who ended up uploading photos of the night onto his professional website (not one photo of her uploaded – what a load of shit), who expressed he couldn’t remember the name.  He tried remembering the members of his table that he had to schmooze with who could have picked up the name – nothing.  He scoured Instagram – the hashtags, the other girls that were there, the profiles, the tagged photos, the socialites he didn’t socialize with just to see if they had a picture with her or mentioned her by name.  He asked Brendan Shanahan if he knew.  He asked Kyle Dubas if he knew.  He asked every Leaf that was there that night if they caught the name, if they spoke to any of the members, if they took a picture, if it was in the background of another picture, if they remembered any minute detail that would give him a lead.  

Nothing.

His chest has been permanently tightened for almost four months now.  He needed to know.  He needed to find her.

“Serena’s here,” Auston’s voice interrupted Fred’s thoughts as he slammed his empty glass – his fourth of the night, at least – onto the bar beside Fred.  

“Who?”

“Serena – Serena!” he emphasized.  Fred’s face was still blank.  “Serena DaCosta, dude,” Auston said.  “Remember…we were hooking up a while back…”

“Oh.  Right.”

Auston looked at his friend skeptically.  “Dude, come on.”

“What?”

Fred could see the gears shifting in Auston’s head pulling him in two different directions.  Fred wanted to stop him.  Usually when this happened to Auston, it pulled him into conspiracy theory territory.  “Bro…you…you’re not hung up on Bee, are you?”

“NO!” Fred screamed, a look of disgust on his face.  “Jesus fucking Christ, Auston, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What?!  You can’t blame me for thinking it!” he tried to defend himself.  “Anytime she’s not in sight you look like someone ran over your dog.”

It’s because I’m looking for somebody.  And I can’t do that when the birthday girl is around.  “You’re a fucking lunatic.  And I know that’s the alcohol talking,” Fred shook his head.

“Then why do you look like someone ran over your dog?!” Auston persisted.  “The city’s hottest girls are in this damn club right now practically lining up to hook up with you and you seem to not give a fuck because of…what?  Hmmm?” Auston waited for an answer dramatically, sticking out his head, raising his eyebrows, and pursing his lips slightly.  “You can’t hate me for wondering.”

“Yes, I can.”

“So what’s the reason, then?”

“There’s no reason,” Fred shook his head again, taking a sip from his drink and hoping Auston would just end it.

But of course, that wasn’t the case.  Auston always had to explore the other side of the gears shifting in his brain – the non-conspiracy theory side.  The side that was – unfortunately – usually right.  “Wait a second…” Auston narrowed his eyes.  “Oh…dude.”

“What?”

“You’re not still hung up on that girl, are you?”

The hairs of Fred’s neck stood on end.  “What girl?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Auston said.  “The girl you’ve been obsessed with the last three months.  From the charity event.  That you haven’t been able to find.”

Fred didn’t mean to hesitate – he really didn’t.  But in his simple hesitation and shaking his head and stuttering out a “N – No,” Auston had him, Auston won, and Auston knew he was right.  

“Brooooooo,” Auston threw his head back in disdain for Fred.  “Let.  It.  GO!”

“Fuck off, Auston.”

“Are you honestly going to be hung up on her for the rest of the year?  For the rest of your life?” Auston kept asking.  “It’s already been three months, Fred.  You couldn’t find her.  You can’t find her.  It’s a lost cause.  You can’t let this dictate your life.  You’ve gotta…you’ve gotta move on.  If it was meant to be you would have found her already, and you haven’t.”

“Thanks, Auston,” Fred rolled his eyes.

“I’m serious, man.  Think about it.  You can’t get hung up on this girl when you don’t even know her name.  There’s so many other things you could be spending your time on, so many other girls you can be paying attention to, that can be paying attention to you, but you can’t even see it!”

Before Auston could continue his lecture, the girl Freddie could only presume to be Serena DaCosta appeared behind Auston.  Her long, wavy blonde hair and plump lips spread into a smile enticed Auston automatically.  “Hey,” Auston smirked.

“Heeeeeeyyyyyyy yyyoooouuuuu,” she drawled out flirtingly, giving him an unsolicited and dramatic kiss on the cheek.  “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for a friend’s birthday,” Auston said.

“Anybody I know?” Serena asked.  Fred could see the rest of her group of friends approaching them.  He held his breath.

“No,” he said sharply.  Auston knew better than to mention Bee’s name in front of girls like this, after what happened.  Not that he ever did, though, because Auston was somewhat protective of Bee too and didn’t want these types of girls even knowing about her.  “What are you doing here?”

Serena shrugged her shoulders.  “Just had a feeling that I should be out tonight,” she said, her eyes flashing towards Fred.  “Hey Freddie.”  Fred nodded towards her as he took another sip of his drink.  He didn’t even bother.  When her friends approached them, he clocked out altogether.  Serena got the hint.  “Auston, you remember Jessy and Rachel and Loren?”

“Hey ladies,” Auston winked at them, not remembering them at all.  

“Catch you later,” Fred said quickly into Auston’s ear, attempting to get up from his seat to go and find Bee, Morgan, and Tyler.

Fred saw Auston’s hand come up and hold him down.  “Have you met Loren?”

***

“Are you guys going to take a taxi home?” Bee asked as she clung onto Morgan for dear life.  After dancing the night away at Early Mercy, Fred knew Bee was ready to call it a night.  Auston had tried to convince the manager to keep it open (while Serena hung on his arm, nonetheless), but to no avail.  Special rules couldn’t be made for Auston Matthews.  It was law.  The manager was really sorry.  So everybody decided to call it a night.

“Don’t worry, sweetcheeks,” Tyler fumbled around with Auston’s phone.  “Our Uber’s just down the street.”  He looked towards Auston, another ping coming from his phone.  “That girl just texted you five times in a row.”

“Of course,” Auston rolled his eyes.

“Am I still sleeping over yours?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not cockblocking am I?”

“Far from it.  If you’re over it gives a legitimate reason for her not to follow us home.”

Tyler’s eyes widened.  “I’ll call the cops if I need to.”

“Freddie?” he heard his name called by Bee’s overly sweet voice.  “Freddie how are you getting home?” she asked as she approached him, clinging onto the material of his shirt.  

“I’m grabbing an Uber with Auston and Tyler,” he said, holding her in place so she wouldn’t fall over.  He loved seeing Bee like this, if only because she was so poised and in control of herself 99% of the time.  He loved seeing her let loose. 

“Are you going home?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to be safe?”

Fred giggled at her tone of voice.  “Yes Bee.  I’ll be safe.  I don’t know many people who would jump a six-foot-four, two-hundred-and-forty-pound man.  In an Uber.”

“But you always look so expensive,” she said.  He also loved that Bee had no filter.  “You always dress so nice and wear such expensive things and look put together and I once got told by this lady that people look for people who look rich because --”

“Bee --”

“Because it means they have money and did you know that thieves will actually target people who have sleeve tattoos because it means they have a lot of money if it means they can get all that work done?  So Auston has to be careful too.”

Fred couldn’t help but laugh as he saw, in his peripheral vision, their Uber come up along the curb.  Tyler was waving his arms like one of those flag guys on the tarmacs outside of planes.  “I’ll make sure Auston is safe, Bee.”

“Thank you, you big boy.”

“Alright!  Let’s blow this popsicle stand!” Tyler yelled from the car.  Fred gave one last ‘Happy Birthday’ and kiss on the cheek to Bee before shoving himself into the backseat (why, oh why didn’t they order an SUV?  His legs were going to cramp so bad), pulling an almost-drunk Auston in with him, and ordering Tyler to take the front seat (it should have been him taking the front seat, because, you know, leg room.  Tyler was 5’9”.  He could fit in the trunk.) so they could get on with it.  

Because they had ordered the Uber from Auston’s phone, the driver was bringing them to Auston’s address.  Fred made sure to tell him right from the get-go that he would need to make two stops.  The driver complied easily.  

“Did you like any of them?” Auston asked as he leaned awkwardly into the middle section of the backseat, looking at Fred with beady eyes.

“Like any of who?” Fred asked.  He overheard Tyler making awkward conversation with the Uber driver from the front seat, telling him his name was Inigo Montoya a la Princess Bride.

“Loren thought you were hot.”

“Oh for fuck sakes,” Freddie sighed.  “Auston--”

“Get over her,” Auston said authoritatively.  “She’s not gonna appear out of thin air, Fred.  She’s not just gonna appear in a Starbucks while you’re ordering coffee.  Loren is a real person,” he emphasized.  “With lips, and boobs – nice ones – and--”

“Auston.”

“Will you at least just think about it?” Auston asked.  “I hate seeing you so pissy.  You’re Frederik fucking Andersen dude.  You should be having every God damn girl in this city if you wanted.”

On the one hand, Auston had a point.  Fred hated to admit it, but he did.  Maybe he was too hung up on this.  Maybe he was over-the-top about his search, about his constant thinking about her.  Maybe it wasn’t meant to be, and he was just holding onto a dream that didn’t need holding on to; a dream that needed to stay unfulfilled, undone, incomplete.  Maybe he was trying to force fate – the last thing anybody should do.  

Fred took a deep breath as they felt the car pull up to the curb.  Out the window, Fred could see the façade of Auston’s apartment building.  “I’ll think about it.”

Auston smiled mischievously before winking.  “Atta boy,” he pulled himself up, opening the door to the car.  “Her Instagram is at lorenxoxo.  Thank you kindly, sir,” he directed to the Uber driver, saluting him dramatically.  “Slip into her DMs.”

“Goodnight Auston,” Fred dismissed him.  Fred watched as Tyler and Auston stumbled their way into Auston’s building, getting inside safely.  The car had been quiet from a lack of music, but as he saw Tyler open the door, the opening notes of a guitar riff began to play over the stereo.  

Suddenly, Fred heard the back door opposite his side of the car open, and a body slipped into the backseat beside him, closing the door once they were in.  The first thing he noticed was the abundance of thick, luxurious hair, styled in old Hollywood waves, cascading down the back and side profile, obstructing the view of her face.  Then, he noticed the outfit: a loose, spaghetti strap, silk v-neck top, lazily tucked into tight, seamless black pants, and strappy black heels.  

“Take me to Stewart Street, please,” the woman said to the driver.  Her voice was off, somehow, but Fred couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Ma’am – I – I already have a passenger.  I--”

“Stewart Street, please,” she begged, and Fred could hear in her voice that she was crying.

He looked up.

***

Aleida Casillas was crying.  Again.  She felt like she had been crying for months, that her tear ducts were getting their own workout now for how often she used them.  She cried in bed.  She cried in the shower.  She cried in her car.  She cried in her Ubers.  She cried in restaurants.  She cried in restaurant bathrooms.  She cried at her parents’ house.  She cried at her sister’s house.  She cried in her own house.  She cried on her couch.  She cried underneath a blanket.

She cried alone.  

And right now, she needed to get into the privacy of her own home so she could cry there.  But she’d have to cry in the back of an Uber to get there.

As she walked down King Street, she saw an Uber – she knew, thanks to the sticker on the back windshield – pull up and let out two drunken men who scurried into the glass condo building.  She ran towards the car as fast as her heels could carry her before it could drive away.  She opened the backseat door and slipped in, closing it behind her.  

“Take me to Stewart Street, please,” Aleida said to the driver.  She could hear the cracks in her own voice and hoped to God the driver didn’t make some sort of comment about it.  She didn’t think she’d be able to handle it.  She really didn’t think she could sob any harder at the back of an Uber more so than she had been doing the last few months.  Uber drivers in Toronto probably had her on their radar.

“Ma’am – I – I already have a passenger.  I--”

“Stewart Street, please,” she begged, looking down at her feet, her feet in their strappy heels, so she could wipe away her tears before the driver could know she was crying.  She wasn’t really listening to him.  She didn’t really care about what he was saying, truthfully, the other passenger be damned.  Turn it into an UberPool – whatever needed to happen for her to get home.  She’d even pay for the other passenger’s fare.  They could live all the way out in Scarborough.  Mississauga.  Aurora.  Newmarket.  She didn’t care.

“Holy shit.”

She looked up.

***

Fred was going to pass out.  

Her.

It was her.

He was pretty sure that his mouth was gaping open; that he looked like a complete idiot at the other end of the backseat, but his mind couldn’t process what his eyes were seeing fast enough.  The rich, dark brown hair.  The perfectly tanned and contoured skin as smooth and flawless as glass.  The dominant eyebrows that framed her face.  The perfectly cut cheekbones blushed and highlighted.  The lips, full and bow-shaped, painted with a neutral pink instead of the daring red he’d seen so many moons ago.  

Her eyes with their striking hazel irises, were staring directly into his soul.  Again.

She was here.  

In the car.  

Crying again.

“Fred,” his name escaped her lips quietly, the tears immediately stopping.  She was just as shocked as he was, apparently.  Because, really, what were the chances?  To be going home at the same time, to get into the same time…

“It’s you,” he said, not knowing what he was saying.  His brain was still trying to process everything, and it was doing a shit job.  

“It’s me.”

“Ma’am, you’re going to have to leave the vehic--”

“No no, it’s fine,” Fred said quickly, making eye contact with the driver in the rearview mirror, waving him off.  “Take her to Stewart Street.”

“You sure?”

“Positive,” Fred said without even looking at him.  Soon, he felt the gear shift into drive and the driver pull away from the curb.

The girl had begun to wipe the tears away from her face delicately, trying to mask her condition.  As if Fred didn’t catch it.  He watched her for a few moments as she stared straight ahead as to not make eye contact with him, not knowing what to say at all.  What could he say?  That he’d been obsessed with her?  That he’d badgered his teammates and strangers about her?  But before he could overthink it, his mind decided to say the one thing that was true.  “I’ve been trying to find you.”

She didn’t bother to look at him, still trying to collect her tears, her emotions.  “You have?  Why?”

He had to be honest.  “Your eyes,” he admitted.  It was at that point that she looked at him again, the hazel irises stabbing him.  “Your eyes are so sad.”

They were both hyperaware of the verb he used.  Are.  Because they definitely were sad then, and they were sad now.  For a moment, however quick it was, there was an acknowledgement on her face; it soon turned to anger – brows furrowed and lips pursed, looking away again.  “That’s none of your business.”

Fred acquiesced.  He knew that.  Maybe that was too forward of him.  “What’s your name, then?  I – I need to know your name.”

She shot him a glance.  Against her better judgement, she answered him.  “Aleida.”

“Aleida what?”

“Aleida.”

“How did you know who I was…am,” he corrected himself.  

Aleida gave him another look.  “Everybody knows who you are, Fred.  Goalie extraordinaire of the Maple Leafs.  Girls in this city would line up outside your bedroom if only you’d let them.”

It was Fred’s turn to give her a look.  That wasn’t true at all.  Well, not to him.  He could still go around some places in the city without getting recognized – especially when he was alone.  He mostly just kept to himself.  When he was with Auston it was a different story, since Auston’s reputation preceded him.  “Why don’t I know who you are?”

“Maybe you just weren’t looking hard enough,” she said.

That was a joke.  If she only knew what he had been up to.  If only she knew.  “Why aren’t you answering my questions?”

“Why do keep asking them?”

“Because I want to know who you are,” Fred hit back, more firmly this time.  Didn’t she get that?  Didn’t she get the reason why the first words out of his mouth were ‘Holy shit’ was because of exactly that?

“Ma’am, we’re here.  Stewart Street,” the driver said from the front seat.  “Wasn’t a log drive.”  He put the car in park and unlocked the doors, the sound dramatically filling the air.

She took once last look at Fred as she opened the door.  “My name is Aleida.  That’s all you will need to know more.”

And then she was gone.

***

Frederik found himself riding the elevator up to the 31st floor of the St. Regis Hotel.  The elevator attendant marveled at his size, trying to hide the fact that he was staring.  The other women in the elevator – four of them – stared too, trying not to giggle to each other.  But Fred could see their eyes.  He could see their eyes dart towards him and then to one another, smirks appearing on their faces, stifled little giggles escaping them as the elevator rushed up.  

When the elevator pinged, and the doors opened, Fred found himself at Louix Louis, the luxurious, gilded bar that had Torontonians salivating at the mouth.  It was the most luxurious of the luxurious.  Lavish.  Opulent.  You name it.  It was everything people loved about indulgence.  Everything people loved about exclusivity; about standing in line and not getting in; about calling for reservations and being denied; about watching people, seeing people, wanting to be seen, waiting to be seen.  

“Hey Fred,” the hostess winked immediately as he approached her podium.  “Auston’s been waiting.”

“Thanks,” he responded shyly as she grabbed a menu from beneath her.

“Follow me, sweetie.”

Fred shook his head and chuckled to himself as she turned her back to him, leading him down the bar and to one of the booths in the back where he could already see Auston waiting.  And of course, like the sky is blue, Auston was wearing a beanie.  He was the only person in Toronto who would wear a beanie in Louix Louis.

“’Bout time,” Auston smiled as Fred shuffled into the opposite side of the booth.  

“Shut up.”

“Serena, Jessy, Rachel, and Loren are on their way,” Auston winked.

“You didn’t,” Fred deadpanned, thinking this was just going to be a quiet night.  He should have known better.  He should have known better to accept an invitation by Auston to go to Louix Louis.  

“Oh, I did,” Auston smiled.  “She’s into you, bro.”

“Who?”

“Loren.”

“Who’s Loren?”

“Oh, fuck off, Fred.”

Fred rolled his eyes.  He couldn’t care less.  He decided to one up Auston; to tell him what he wanted to tell him ever since he agreed to go out with him tonight.  “I found her, by the way.”

“Found who?” Auston sipped at his drink.

“The girl.  Aleida.”

Auston almost spit out his drink.  “What?!”

Fred nodded his head.  “She got into the Uber the night of Bee’s birthday once you and Tyler left.”

“You’re fucking telling me--”

“Aaaaaaustttooooooonnn!” a perky, overzealous voice cut their conversation way too short.  From the opposite end of the bar, where Fred was let in, he saw the same group of girls from Bee’s birthday make their way towards them.  Their designer purses hung on chains against their shoulders as their long hair, perfectly blow-dried at some salon in Yorkville, moved with their scurried movements.  At Louix Louis, you wanted to be seen in the same booth as Auston Matthews.  

“Hey heeeeey,” Auston smiled, scooting over to make room while the four girls entered all on his side.  The girl Fred could only assume was Loren eyed him like a hawk, the waitress approaching the table not long after to get everybody’s drink orders.

Auston exchanged formalities with the ladies as Fred stayed silent, but he could tell that Auston was pressed about the news Fred had just revealed.  For all Auston seemed like he didn’t care about things and was generally aloof, he could be a snoopy bitch.  A really snoopy bitch.  And Fred could tell Auston wanted to talk about it so bad.

Fred thought he would wait.

But he didn’t.  

“Hey girls, can you help me with something?” he preempted quickly.  “Actually, it’s more so helping Fred.”

Fred’s eyes widened.  “N – No--”

“What do you girls know about a girl named Al-ay-da?” he stressed her name – improperly – eyeing Fred quickly.

“Oh my God.”

“Oh my God.”

“Oh my GAWD.”

“Aleida Casillas?!”

“Oh my God, are you joking?” Serena piped up over the other three.  “There is no way Aleida Casillas didn’t bite Fred’s head off if she met him.  That girl is a fucking cannibal.”

“What?  Listen, all I wanna know is the details,” Auston held his hands up innocently.

“What is there to say about Aleida Casillas,” Jessy quipped, and Fred felt like she was going to break out into the Regina George monologue from Mean Girls.  “You know who her mom is, right?” she directed at Auston, but looked between him and Fred.

“No, I obviously don’t.”

“It’s Dr. Casillas – she’s, like, the best plastic surgeon in the city.  The country.”

“Girls who go to her say she does the best work,” Loren contributed.  Fred so desperately wanted to ask if she had gotten anything done for her to say something like that, but he of course decided against it.  “It all looks so natural.”

“And her dad – he’s like, the best cardiologist in the country,” Serena added.  “I’m not exaggerating.  My cousin in med school once watched him perform a quadruple bypass and a ten hour ventricular restoration.  He’s even done heart surgery on a former Prime Minister or whatever.  He’s been honoured for his work all over the world.  It’s insane.”

“Not to mention the family is loaded.  She’s got everything anybody could ever want.  I mean, Aleida thinks she owns the city,” Jessy said.

“Well…she kinda does,” Rachel said something besides oh my God.  “She’s got all the money in the world, she knows everybody worth knowing, but like, she’s friends with them too, and people want her to wear their clothes or whatever, or come to their bars, or attend their charity events.  I mean, it’s mainly because of who her parents are, but still.  She sings, sometimes, I think, but I think mostly she just shows up places--”

“--she’s a model--”

“—she’s a model, and she’s pretty, and people are, like, scared of her, because I heard one time she, like, ruined the career of some up-and-coming influencer – or was it a designer? – but she ruined his career cause that person, like, didn’t dress one of her friends for an event or something and she went ballistic.”

“She’s a cannibal, like I said,” Serena said assertively.  “She’s a huge bitch.  Why would you want to know anything about her?”

Fred was shocked, to say the least.  The person he’d met – if you could even call it that – in the Shopper’s Drug Mart that night, and the person he’d seen in the backseat of the Uber could not have been the same person.  There was no way.  There was no way that crying girl was a ‘cannibal’.  There was no way.  The family stuff could be true, sure – who was he to question that – but the other stuff?  Ruining a career?  Impossible.  It wasn’t that Fred thought they were lying.  But maybe…maybe they had the wrong girl.  How many girls could be named Aleida?  Maybe they were…embellishing.

“Yeah.  Why would you want to know anything about her?” Loren asked, eyeing Fred like a hawk again.

Fred tried not to make it seem like he was physically uncomfortable every time she looked at him, but he was getting physically uncomfortable.  “She just performed at an event we went to,” Fred explained briefly.  

“I wouldn’t even think of like, doing anything,” Serena took charge again.  “She’ll rip your head off.”

Well Fred knew where she stood.

“Enough about Aleida,” Auston held his hands up again, looking past everybody at the waitress that was bringing their drinks to the table.  “What are we up to tonight?” he smirked.

Fred clocked out.  He didn’t care about anything that was being done or said around him – he didn’t care what those girls were saying at all.  He didn’t care.  He didn’t care.  He didn’t care.  

Casillas.

Her last name was Casillas.

He got up abruptly, asking a passing waiter where the washrooms were.  Auston was too entranced by the girls to care, so Fred had no qualms leaving.  As he made his way towards the washrooms, he pulled his phone out of his pocket.  He typed out her name into the Google search bar .  ‘Aleda Casiyas’

‘Do you mean Aleida Casillas?’

Well fine then.  

There she was on his phone screen.  It wasn’t like she had a Wikipedia page or anything, but perhaps even more important, especially in this city, was that she had her own tag on the Toronto Life website.  The Narcity tag was there too, but that wasn’t as important.  He clicked on the Toronto Life link.  

Aleida Casillas, wearing vintage Jean Paul Gaultier, at Soho House, Toronto.

What Aleida Casillas wore to the premier of Guillermo Del Toro’s new film.

Aleida Casillas is the face for emerging Toronto fashion designer Guinevere Jones.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” he heard an all-too-familiar voice behind him.  “Loren’s barely turned 18.”

Fred spun around dramatically.  

There she was behind him.  

He almost couldn’t believe his eyes.  Almost.  But if she could sneak into the backseat of his Uber, she could appear at Louix Louis.  She could appear anywhere.  And of course, she looked flawless.  Makeup flawless, hair flawless, all of it.  If she really was a model, he could see why.  “What are you doing here?” Fred asked.

“Who isn’t at Louix Louis on a Friday night?” she countered.  

Fred’s head whipped back and forth between the direction of the booth and Aleida standing in front of him.  He was willing to ditch this entire scene.  “Are you ready to talk?”

“About what?”

“Why you were crying in a Shopper’s Drug Mart at two in the morning four months ago,” Fred deadpanned.  “And why you were crying before you stole an Uber?”

Aleida’s face dropped.  Whatever confidence she had in her power and persuasion over Fred left her and was replaced with something else – that something else, Fred didn’t know yet.  But it wasn’t confidence, and it wasn’t self-assurance, and it sure wasn’t was the cheekiness she’d displayed in any and all interaction she’d had with him (however brief) up until this point.  “You don’t want to get into it,” she said, her voice soft.  And for the first time, emotional.

“I do.”

She looked at him.  “Fred.”

“Can we get out of here?”

Aleida took a deep breath.  She tugged on the hem of his shirt as she started walking away.  

He followed her.

She made an abrupt stop at the booth.  When Auston saw her, he didn’t think anything of it, but when he saw Fred behind her, his eyes went wide.  All the girls stopped talking and looked like a ghost had just appeared in front of them. 

“Ohmigod Aleida, hi,” Serena said first.  

Aleida smiled at her, but it wasn’t politely.  She focused her attention back to Auston.  “I’m taking Fred.”  She didn’t give him an option.

“Th-that’s cool,” he couldn’t say anything else to her.  

Aleida looked back at the girls, specifically Serena.  “I’m sorry, who are you?”

Serena’s jaw almost dropped from embarrassment.  It was clear to Fred that despite calling her a cannibal a mere ten minutes ago, Serena would butter herself up if it meant Aleida would eat her.  “It’s…it’s me!  Serena Da Costa.”

Aleida’s eyes flashed.  “Oh!  Right!  From my mom’s clinic!” she exclaimed, her surprise feigned and her polite tone just as fake.  She pointed at Serena.  “You came in with…” she went through the girls with her pointed finger, stopping on Loren.  “You!  How was your eighteenth birthday in June?  Looks like your parents allowed you to get the boobs you wanted.”

Loren looked absolutely mortified.  “I--”

“And your new lips,” Aleida focused on Serena again.  “Isn’t my mom just so great?”

Now Serena looked absolutely mortified.  But it was Auston who looked ready to crawl into a hole and die since she mentioned the eighteenth birthday party.  “Uh--”

“Anyways, see you guys later.  I’m sure one of you will want a nose job soon,” she winked at the group before walking off.

***

“So why were you crying?”

Fred was on Aleida’s couch now, after having followed her home by foot, walking for half an hour.  Half an hour along King Street West, illuminated lights and flashing storefronts lighting the way.  Eager clubbers spilling onto the streets tried to do their part to distract Fred or block him from following, but he was like a man possessed.  His eyes were like a hawk’s on her.  There was no way he was losing her again in a crowd full of people on King Street.

They passed the Shopper’s Drug Mart.  

It was when they happened upon a row of expansive, luxurious, modern townhomes, coincidentally just a few blocks from his building that Fred began to realize that maybe the things those girls were saying were right, or at least partly true.  But the other thing he realized made him want to scream.  He had searched for her for months and she was practically just a few steps away from him?  He understood the universe worked in mysterious ways, but this was just plain cruel.  That she had been so close to him, physically, and he had no idea.  It tore him up.  

They’d gone inside.  She took off her heels.  She’d opened a bottle of wine and poured it into two glasses before standing at opposites ends of her expansive kitchen island, staring at each other, waiting for the other to speak.  It was Fred who obviously broke first.  It was Fred who couldn’t wait any longer; who wanted to get to the bottom of why her eyes were – are – so sad that night, and in the Uber, and tonight.  Because behind her façade, he could see her sadness.  Behind the snarky comments she made towards those girls with Auston, Aleida Casillas was profoundly sad.  

She took a deep breath.  “My uh…my old piano instructor – from when I was a kid – she passed away earlier that day,” Aleida revealed, her voice low.

“Were you close?”

“I think I loved her more than I loved my parents when I was a kid.”

Fred was shocked to hear such a statement come out of her mouth.  Considering that he just learned who her parents were, it was…different for him to hear such a thing.  “Why?”

She shrugged her shoulders.  “She listened,” she said simply.  “No-one ever listens.  No-one ever…no-one ever listens.  To me.  But she did.  She listened.  More than anyone.  And she saw me."

“She saw you?”

“She saw me for who I was and not what she wanted me to be,” Aleida continued.  “She was the best.”

There was a moment of silence between them.  Fred was unsure of what to say.  He knew he wanted her to open up to him, but he wasn’t expecting…this.  Truthfully, he was expecting something completely different.  A breakup with a boyfriend, or at least a fight.  A disagreement with a friend.  A lost job opportunity or a firing.  But not a death of a childhood piano teacher.  “I just couldn’t get over your eyes – the sadness in your eyes.  And it’s still there.”

“Listen.  I don’t know what those girls told you about me tonight.  And I didn’t mean to make you scared that night when I called you Fred and knew who you were.  I just…you made it obvious that you didn’t see me in there.  Nobody did.  And that was a stark reminder to me of her being gone.  Anyway…there…there’s a lot going on right now, and nobody cares.”

He could tell she knew she was rambling; that she stopped herself from revealing too much.  He persisted.  “Nobody cares?”

“Nobody fucking cares,” she stressed before taking a long sip of wine.

“Well, can you tell me a bit about yourself?” he asked.  Her eyes flashed at him, her brows furrowing.  “So I can get to know you?  So I can care?”

“I’m sure those girls told you enough about me,” she commented.  “Whatever people say I am, I am.  Isn’t that how all this works?”

“No, and you know that,” he said.  “You apparently know all this information about me and about those girls with Auston, but why don’t I know anything about you?  Just be honest.”

“Well what’d those girls say about me?”

He paused before taking a deep breath.  “Cannibal.”

“Cannibal?”

“Serena said you were a cannibal.  Your parents – doctors.  Your family – loaded.  All the money in the world.  That you’re a model.  A bitch.  That you ruined someone’s career because they wouldn’t dress your friend for an event,” he listed off.

Aleida’s eyes narrowed at the last bit.  Her tone was as assertive as the click of her heels on the sidewalk on the way here.  “That designer attempted to sexually assault one of my best friends, so you’re damn right I ruined his career.  And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

So she was misunderstood.  Or at least her life was.  Fred still didn’t know.  “But what’s the truth?”

“Isn’t there a bit of truth in everything?” she asked rhetorically.  

“You tell me.”

Aleida couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.  “Everything they told you about me is true.  Doctor parents.  Loaded.  All the money in the world.  A bitch.  A cannibal.”

“Yet you cry about your piano teacher dying,” he commented.  Her eyes shot daggers at him at his comment.  For a second, he was sure he was going to die right then and there.  “You’re hiding behind this tough exterior and I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude but I think you care more than anyone.”

“Don’t you ever use that against me ever again,” she snapped back at him.  “I do fucking care, okay?  Everybody fucking cares, and if they say they don’t they’re liars.  That’s why Serena was practically salivating at the mouth when she saw me and couldn’t handle it when I pretended not to know who she was.  She’ll call me a cannibal but if I’m the shark she’s that fish that attaches itself and sucks the bacteria off my body.”  Her tone was so scathing, Fred had never heard anything like it.  She paused.  “You want to know the truth?  Here’s your truth.  I’m Cuban-Canadian.  My dad is one of the best cardiologists in the entire world and my mother is the best plastic surgeon in the country.  I’ve got an older sister named Alejandra who’s a plastic surgeon too.  I grew up in Rosedale.  I went to private school.  I received the best education.  I have millions and millions of dollars at my disposal whenever I want it and get to spend it however I want it.  People ask me to model their clothes, to go to their events, to say nice things about them.  They want me to sing and play piano and give this air that their event is high-end and exclusive and luxurious just because I’m there – because my presence apparently means something to a lot of people in the city.  And every single one of those people – my dad, mom, sister, her husband, everybody who wants something from me – they look at me, all the time, but they don’t see me.  And for once in my life…for once in my life, I just want to be seen.”

Fred listened.  It was all he could do as she went into her speech.  There were no words of comfort that could be said to her, no grand gestures that could be done to make her feel better.  He barely knew her – really.  He barely knew her.  He only felt a connection to her; to her and her sad eyes, to her tears, to the image of her cathartic crying at two in the morning in a drugstore neither of them had any business of being in at that hour.  

So instead, he stared at her.  He nodded his head in understanding.  Because he did understand, to some extent – how people in their lives look but they never really see.  It was something that bound them together.  In the vast city of Toronto, from the bright lights of King Street West to the luxurious décor of Louix Louis, to the couch they found themselves sitting on sipping on an expensive wine, it connected them.

He took a deep breath.  “So you play piano then?  And you sing?” he asked.  Aleida nodded her head.  He couldn’t read her emotion as she took another sip of wine.  “Can I hear or see you play sometime?”

“No.”

Fred nodded.  It would take a while for her to open up more.  To show him more of herself, to let her guard and her attitude down.  For her to allow him to see her.

But he’d be there for it.

[rpbetter]

Urgh. Okay, full disclosure, I haven't been on tumblr much over the last week or so, because I was one of the people that Raven initially called out after the COAR mess, and it was in the interest of my own mental health to fuck off for a while so I didn't stress myself out into oblivion. So I'm scrolling through most of this stuff for the first time, and talking to other people who were targeted. And pardon my French here, but I'm fucking disgusted at the lengths Raven has gone to assert themselves as a victim, how many people they've affected, and the waving around of something as serious as suicide for brownie points.

I have sympathy for people who overinterpret things in a strictly emotional and mental sense (actual reactions aside) because they lack the maturity. There's always a reason for that, and it's not their fault. And I have sympathy for people if they legitimately feel suicidal. That, too, isn't their fault. If I hadn't been blocked, I would've reported Raven in case their claims were true as well, because yeah, I don't mess around with that stuff either. But what's unacceptable is how Raven acted on those sentiments and behaved towards others, even after people tried to provide perspective. How Raven claimed to be done with the drama, but continued inciting it; how they claimed to be suicidal and had left tumblr, but wrote what amounts to a "fuck you" in their header and were still putzing around on their blog, and were apparently still editing their posts until as late as today; how they claimed to have deleted but only changed the url; how they weaponized all of this stuff and used it as a tool for guilt-tripping. Like, come on. It's okay if you're down in the dumps, but it's not okay to treat innocent people like garbage, and carpet bomb half the RPC. To me, it really feels like there was an intent to weaponize all of their hurt, offense, anger, and suicidal ideations, despite the possibility it did come from somewhere genuine, and that's so harmful to anyone who is actually struggling with depression.

Every time someone weaponizes mental illness in this way, it just makes people more and more apathetic the next time someone is genuinely just hurting, and saying they feel like they're at the end of their rope. And it makes people suspicious of whether those words are being used maliciously, or legitimately. That suspicion and that association is now there, unconscious or not. And every time this kind of stuff happens, the association gets stronger. What happens if Raven does this again? Some people will still report, but some people might just scoff and walk away - people who might've actually acted before. So in a way, that kind of behaviour impacts Raven as much as it impacts other people.

And you know what? They're not the only one dealing with serious shit. I've been suffering from MDD for the last fifteen years, and I've been in the process of changing medications and having little success for months. I've been going through hell offline. I have a shit list of people I want to yell at because they're dragging their feet on really important things I need to function; I'm constantly running a deficit on spoons. Until a week or so ago, roleplay was one of the only ways I could unwind. So for Raven to bully me by sticking that stupid post in my tags, because they needed to make a scene on COAR, which I was obviously going to comment on (like many other people), then to "like" an unsubstantiated callout about me and other innocent people related to that mess, it's only worsened my own mental health. It sounds melodramatic, but really. Someone else mentioned this too, but the fear of being in another callout, and the fear of that first callout somehow exploding, was in the back of my mind all week, despite being away from tumblr. So that was a little anxiety-inducing, much as I tried not to think about it.

And I'm debating whether to return now, or take more time off, and I have no idea what to do. Because that callout post is still in my blog's tag. I'm freaking out because I was planning on approaching some people to roleplay, which is something I rarely ever do, but now I'm concerned that I'll contact someone, they'll look at my tag to get an idea of my writing/partners/who I am, and see the callout post, and immediately dismiss me because even seeing the word "callout" on its own will send up red flags, by unconscious association with more impactful drama. And as long as that callout is up, these fears are going to be there.

That's just not fair.

And Raven's "apology" is completely unacceptable. Like you and others said, it doesn't reach anyone who needs to hear it, because they've all been blocked. I would fucking love an apology if it came from a place of honesty, but am I going to receive one? Probably not. And even for the followers who can still see that apology, it doesn't address anything. It isn't directed to anyone in particular. It doesn't mention the specific behaviours that were wrong on their part. And miss me with the "my intentions were good" part. No, they weren't; going around blocks and sticking shit in peoples' tags is vindictive and entirely intentional in all the worst ways, and shame on them for pretending otherwise, and by leading with such a poor example for many roleplayers, some of whom are in their teens. One of the people who tried to message Raven (they, too, were called out on Raven's blog) was speaking to a nineteen-year old who was completely clueless about the extent of the manipulation Raven was pulling. They thought all of it was normal and acceptable behaviour. That genuinely terrifies me. And while I imagine if Raven was genuinely apologetic, they would've gone to the callout blog and ask them to delete the callout post (attempt it, at the very least), somehow, I don't think that would've happened given all of their prior actions. God forbid something else is going on there.

Phew. Yeah, I'm angry. Maybe I'm just biased and tired. But honestly, I have a right to be. Raven's apology is a handwave, and they know it. It's a slap in the face to me, to you, and to everyone else who was involved in this clusterfuck. They're not the center of the universe. They affected real people, with real problems of their own. Anyways, I am so sorry for this, argh. Really had to get this out, and I didn't want to dump it on discord or somewhere else; I sure as heck didn't want to go to COAR with it. But hey, maybe people here will feel less alone if I added my own account to the mix. The more, the merrier? In a sense, anyways. Sometimes if you feel like you've been singled out, it's nice to know you're not actually the only person it's happened to.

Sorry for saving your reply for last, Anon. It's such an important one, I wanted to be properly thoughtful!

I think that it is going to make some people feel less alone, and there is always some relief in sharing one's trials. That might be especially true when one has been unable to share them anywhere else. It's not like you can address this on your own blog right now, COAR is definitely not a safe place to do so, it's a very isolating feeling that is made worse for having done nothing.

Coming back and being required to wade through this shit was really damn disgusting to me as well, but at least in my case, I had neither been obliged to distance myself for the sake of mental health nor was I treated to the sickening display of drumming up ideas of victimization from someone who victimized me. What I experienced was just incredulity and disgust, I cannot imagine how incensing this must be for you, I am so very sorry. If it makes me angry having a degree of removal and watching in it real time? What you're experiencing...there really isn't a single word to adequately encapsulate that, I'm sure.

You've still expressed so many of the things I've thought and felt. I found all that initial behavior uncalled for, shameful, yet another display of what's actually wrong in the RPC, but it was increasingly upsetting to me the more I looked into it because it did feel a little (a lot) too reminiscent of the sort of bullying experienced in person. It's really something else to be viciously picked at by someone who keeps upping the game until such point as it begins to cause them trouble, then get to be painted the wrongdoer and punished in some way for it because they're presenting as a sympathetic victim. A more sympathetic victim than you, that's really what I mean, I'm just going to say it.

And that was already in swing by the time I got from the launch point to the smoking crater of then current events. I got to Raven's again after bouncing back and forth between their interactions with others, largely from COAR, yes, and the shit on the callout blog...to see...everyone else being blamed in increasingly drastic ways.

Because on tumblr, unlike reality, if you throw out enough times ahead of time that you have disorders people can get behind, you're more sympathetic, not less. So long as one has set that foundation and has others to broadcast it once convenient, any horrible action one undertakes is given a pass. Anyone disagreeing, anyone not tolerating the abuse, is in the wrong now. In the worst possible way, of course.

This whole thing began with incredibly unnecessary bullshit and every, I mean fucking every, further action taken was a new level of fucked up, but the trivializing of and damage done to the perception of mental health and differences is quite possibly the worst. Are those things that need any more of that? It's already such a problem! I already see suspicion and fatigue with this, every time it's given validation, it grows.

Even if I wasn't mentally ill, with one of the disorders that gets vilified even on tumblr, even if I were not autistic, even if I never knew a single person who suffered worse than I do from the the complications they won by way of being born, hadn't anyone I loved that took their lives, this would be extremely upsetting to me. Using the idea that "whatever I do, it's got to be acceptable because I am X" while not caring that anyone else is X, Y, and/or Z. Weaponizing it for bullying and sympathy simultaneously. Way too much. Incredibly gross and harmful, legitimately fucking problematic.

I want people to be taken seriously when they choose to speak of the boundaries their mental health requires, I want muns to be able to say that they are having a difficult time without it coming off (even to the rest of us with mental health conditions) as a ploy for attention/guilting for whatever action they desire be taken by partners, and I want people to take threats of oncoming, serious harm seriously. How are they to do this, when it is continually used as tool or weaponized against others? At very best, it becomes another thing to ignore and scroll by on the dash.

As we've all had the misfortune to experience or witness so recently, once it is weaponized, it's a problem of priority. I've said in damn near every message I've gotten that Raven isn't the only person involved here who has serious shit going on, but like the absurdity with trying to spin an accident as transphobia, or having the audacity to attempt speaking from a place of peace in a way that might benefit everyone, Raven included, resulting in a callout about being against ND people...it doesn't matter. Doesn't matter that any of us are neurodivergent, have serious chronic mental health complications, or are not cisgender. Raven was swinging that around like a flaming sword to drive off bigots real and imagined before we ever got their attention.

Attention they fucking asked for.

Reblogging that post from COAR was just like posting those rules. The intention was to get attention, and it was asked for with extreme hostility. I have no idea how that is coming off to anyone as simply them defending themselves. It was a great moment to either not out themselves as the person in the confession at all, not engage with it, quietly remove the post, or to reblog it and take responsibility in a meaningful way at that point. Can you imagine what a difference that would have made then? If Raven had chosen instead to reblog it and apologize for doing what they had. Just that. No shitty, snide little comments about how they're sorry, but still absolutely correct and here are five reasons why everything they've misconstrued won't be tolerated. Just an acknowledgment of wrongdoing, an apology for doing so, and awareness gained moving forward.

Their decision to interact with that post in the way they did wasn't just more of the same nonsense, it was actively upping the game. I don't really care if it was intentional bait or just continuing to let malicious impulse run free, it was used as bait. Everyone who interacted with that post was effectively consigning themselves to harassment, and if they happened to interact on literally any other topic that group held a passionately opposing opinion on, they were attacked for it. Curiously, it became necessary for them to be harassed by way of the callout blog, but that is getting a little close to off-topic, so, I'll leave it at that.

So, while I initially really wanted to have the appeal to Raven work because their expressions of regret that I was greatly on the fence about being genuine, I'd say those flags were accurate. I cannot believe that someone who took every opportunity to do the wrong thing is genuinely sorry. Sorry for themselves, absolutely, sorry for anything they did, not so much. This constant narrative I got of "they SAID they were sorry" and "they apologized again and again and took the posts down," including from Raven, is incredible. On that last one, they, yet again, couldn't actually address me.

Appropriate response: messaging me or reblogging that post (you know, the rules snippet I found right the hell there still, despite the claim of it being deleted and the final catalyst of me needing to say something after I saw that, nope, surely was not) with the acknowledgment of a single thing I said.

Extra appropriate response: ^ plus going to everyone who could still be located that they harmed with a genuine, individual, private apology.

Inappropriate response that was had: new post, shitty, childish tone like they at once wanted to argue with me and didn't want to drop the act, restating of this apology that had already been deleted and meant exactly shit while it existed, restating of how they deleted this post and couldn't control reblogs, ignoring that I literally reblogged the original copy from their blog.

Apology neither believed nor accepted. Just as it wouldn't be if my nephew came to my house, broke a bunch of my things, said he was sorry while throwing the pieces at my pet, then threw himself on the floor screaming that he said he was sorry when I told him to go have a time out.

(Yes, I absolutely did just make a comparison to a child, y'all can shit yourselves again. It's not my problem if you want to misconstrue "this person's actions are not befitting of an adult" as "Vespertine said autistic people are children!" Fucking miss me with that. I'm an autistic adult who pays my bills, apologizes, doesn't treat people like shit while trying to excuse it by being ND. You're offensive with that shit, and contributing to the negative perception people have of those on the spectrum. Be a good ally today! Don't valid that! Free ninety-nine offer!)

Again, sorry for yourself does not equal being sorry for what you've done. The former can contribute to the development of the latter, but as I said in a response yesterday, there has been no display of that beginning to transpire. I genuinely hope that will eventually be the case because that would be the best outcome, the only "best" outcome at this point. Even if it was two years from now, if it did happen, I certainly would not be kind to people refusing them any such growth in peace, and I hope that, by some distant chance, I get to prove that.

But...stating "my intentions were good" over any part of this is not remotely promising. When? Where? At what point? Oh, right, when you took it upon yourself to label a random mun you took issue with. That's when your intentions were good. Then, when you vehemently needed to defend that point by callouts and individual attacks under the guise of it definitely not being about your pride, no! It was the defense of everyone else! Defending the community by carpet-bombing it, yes. This is not a "the path to Hell is paved with good intentions" situation.

I am so disturbed about the nineteen-year-old mun, my god. I'm telling y'all, my anger and disgust almost reach what I think is a pinnacle, then there's something new like this.

I don't even subscribe to tumblr's ideology that anyone under twenty-five is an actual infant who needs be kept in a protective bubble and forgiven for all bad behavior with infinite kindness, nineteen-year-olds deserve the agency of the adultier adults they are becoming, but it is a transitional age. Especially today. Most socialization and formative ideas take place online, and by the time younger RPers are entering the adult sphere of RP here, they've already got some really unhealthy ideas. About themselves, about others. There is such a demand for rabidly performative action that gets internalized, it shouldn't be being heartily fed by people in the community they might look up to.

At that age, someone like Raven is going to be a person looked up to. They espouse all the right ideas, and it's an age in which aggressive interaction over those things is seen as amusing and correct, no matter how wrong the actions taken are or the basis upon which they are founded. When these people foster an environment of cruelty for questioning, of course, that is not going to be the natural response. The response is now going to be the requirement of being told otherwise with adequate proof.

I have suspected that many of the hateful anons I've gotten were from Raven's even younger followers who feel like it's normal, acceptable, and that everything they're being told by Raven's sales team over at the callout blog is absolutely true. Of course, they're now morally obligated to come harass me for the things they were told I did! I think it's likely that several of the anons people got were from actual minors, which is so many levels of scary and irresponsible. Really great example all around, yes!

Because whether it is one's intention or not, that is potentially exposing minors, or muns who are still close enough to be more negatively impacted, to who even knows what. As well as violating the rules of blogs who do not interact with minors for good reason, setting those blogs up for yet another callout for treating someone they didn't know was a minor the way they did or having "freak shit" on their blog. Setting up the other party to be treated with full hostility as an adult would be. Very cool, very responsible.

There is just so much here that is unacceptable, I don't think people who were not directly impacted or have never had a callout against them understand the results, and that is one more unacceptable thing you've been good enough to talk about.

Even while taking a break from the RPC, it affects you negatively. Wondering what you're coming back to, your blog is no longer a safe feeling space, and there's nothing you can do to "cultivate your blog" to change that. They've taken away the ability to simply block and avoid others, the thing that keeps all of us comfortable here as well as allowing that to be all of us no matter how disagreeable we might be to each other. Callouts negate adult behavior. Callouts mean that one doesn't know where more potential for harassment might be coming from, or how long we might have to be worried about that.

It would be a major concern for me as well about what putting myself out there to new writing partners might bring. What the success of that might be. It's incredibly unfair that they've made finding new people precarious and more unpleasant than it can be anyway. That puts all of the future of your RP here in question, and if you're like me, just dropping a muse, picking up another, and moving to a new URL isn't going to be a good choice for you. It isn't that simple if you dedicate time to a muse for a long period of time, when that's the case, that's the RP you want to do and have laid the groundwork for.

I don't know if it will help at all, but it has seemed to me, over the past several days, that there are fewer people in the RPC who are inclined to believe or support callouts than there once was. I was hoping that was the case, since there is always so much interaction on my posts against callout culture, but until this crap went down, I had no idea just how many people are not positive toward it. It has seemed to be that the people who are inclined to listen to callouts are just louder.

I've also noticed that those people have the same set of red flags, so maybe sharing that will help you or others?

They don't have simple, basic, reasonable Do Not Interacts. It isn't simply asking that minors don't interact because the mun is over eighteen, that muns writing a triggering topic not interact, or that sort of thing. No, it's URL dropping of specific muns, outright links to callouts or "receipts," and an accusatory tone about any topics or types of muns who shouldn't interact. Such as "nasty ass proshippers" or "pedo apologists shipping incest."

Their rules are reflective this as well. A statement cannot be made that they do not write, let's say, toxic ships and left at that. There will be some morality wank present about normalizing or romanticizing toxic/abusive relationships.

There are less assured flags, but literally, anything that stands out as an interest in RPC or fandom-based activism as opposed to an interest in writing, their muses, or even their friendships with a variety of muns. I don't mean a rounded-out interest in things, I really do mean a glaring predominance of buzzword-laden reblogs and PSA's while they've not written a reply, headcanon, or answered a meme in months.

I'm not saying any of that because I feel like you, or anyone else's, judgment is terrible or that you're oblivious to warning signs! It's just that when we've experienced bad situations, it can compromise our ability to see clearly. It becomes easy to see a potential threat everywhere, and maybe that seems contrary, but it's then easy to fail to see real threats from those we're blowing up. We question whether we're being just as judgmental as the people who wronged us, putting words in other muns' mouths and thoughts in place of their own as was done to us. While we still are afraid to be wrong in giving someone an in to ruining our time again.

So, please, don't feel like I'm questioning your intelligence or speaking from a place of ultimate knowledge, never making mistakes in such a choice! I just really hate that you, and many others, are going through this, and anything at all that I can think of that might help you move forward from this utter bullshit you've been through, I've got to try to grab it.

Because, Anon, like all those sharing their experiences these last few days, you sound like the kind of mun we need in the RPC.

You're someone willing to share with others for the benefit of others. You're being honest about your feelings of anger and even the hopeless sensation of whether it's even worth it to try to return, having your progress on and offline stomped on, while still maintaining a sort of fairness and calm that I know is not easy. Because that's the mature thing to do, it's the right thing, and unfortunately, those are usually the harder things to do as well.

You did the right thing in expressing your opinion and doing what people like Raven's group love to be on about, can only do through bullying: not tolerating it. I'd hate for the RPC to lose someone like you!

Just as your message matters to more people out there than myself, I have no doubt that your choice to not quietly allow this behavior mattered to more muns than you'll ever know. I'm sure that none of them would have wanted this result for you, but so many muns have experienced such toxic, bullying behavior over the years in which not a soul spoke up.

Many of you proved something very important with challenging Raven and the callouts blog, that unlike them, it isn't necessary for good people to even know each other to do the right thing. They have to dogpile and engage in cliquish behavior, what they do isn't coming from a place of inner ethics and strength, but what you all did? It's the opposite.

So, not only do I thank you again for sharing and providing the important support of simply not being alone to others, I thank you for being the example to the RPC that people dealing in callouts and generalized shaming cannot be, no matter their platform.

I hope that, whether you choose to remain, leave, or take a very long break, everything you've been dealing with starts to look up. I know it's easy to say things made hollow for their repetition and flippant use, like telling you not to let them win, or that their bullshit just isn't that important. So, I'm not going to say them.

It doesn't work that way when you're dealing with mental health concerns! You can logically know that this is just petty bullshit not worth being run out of something important to you, but that doesn't stop the worry, frustration, or depression. You can have all the determination in the world to hang in there, even the spite to back it up, but neither is a match for the things you cannot control coming from your brain. That is the cruelty of mental illness on the very best of days.

You have all of my respect, support, and genuine sympathy that this happened to you. No one should be allowed to continually and unapologetically go out of their way to throw a wrench into someone's hard-won progress. You did nothing to deserve this, and the people out there worth interacting with are going to be the same ones who will have no question of that.

Lastly, I also hope that some of the anons sharing their experiences have helped you feel less alone, or like you're not just irrationally upset. Please know that you're seen and supported as well! And that you are always welcome to talk more, vent, share successes here.

Thank you, Anon.

[bastillewolf]

Midnight In Sheffield (I)

Pairing: Alex Turner/Reader

Summary: When a soon-to-be-wedded insomniac author heads back home to visit her parents, she comes across the likes of a mysterious musician on her sleepless escapade in the AM.

Notes: Not sure if this is going to work out, but I’ve made the creative decision to write a series of Alex Turner fanfics, going down each album and all most likely lightly based off movies. Like the Grand Tranquility Hotel from the Grand Budapest Hotel, this one is based off Midnight In Paris. No need to have seen either movies to read these fics. It won’t take place around the same time, as Sheffield has been through some stuff in the early 1900s. I will keep it all a bit old-school themed, but just won’t name a specific era, so you can take your own spin on it. I’m not familiar with Sheffield at all, never been there, so I’ll keep locations vague and add the Paris theme a bit in there. Hope you tag along for the ride, and let’s have one for the road.

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list!

Chapter I - AM

“I don’t see how this could be more important to you than meeting my parents,” she grumbled, her voice muffled by the pillow she had planted her face in. The sheets of the bed were soft and had a pristine white colour, much to her dismay. The entire hotel room was much too extravagant to her liking, but it was Mark who insisted on paying extra to make their stay most comfortable.

“Please don’t be difficult now, sweetheart,” her fiancée replied, as he set one of his neatly folded trousers in the dresser on the shelf next to where his ironed shirts hung. “You know how much it means to me to be able to see James and Rachel again after all these years. I’m sure your parents will understand. If not, I’ll beg for their forgiveness.” He dramatically bent down to his knee, as if to gallantly portray his apology, making her roll her eyes.

“That wouldn’t be the first thing you’d have to apologize for. First of all, you’re going to have to tell my dad why you didn’t ask for his permission to marry me-“

“You already said yes!”

She shot him a look. “And secondly, you’re going to have to explain to my mum why you didn’t want to stay at their home. I think she would’ve been very happy to play hostess to the man who’s going to marry her daughter in a few.”

He crawled on top of the bed, his curly brown hair hanging over his face as he hovered above her and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be sure to make up for it. Now, please get changed. We’re having lunch.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s going to be at that ritzy restaurant we went to last time. I’m still not over the way that waiter felt the need to explain everything to me like a five-year-old whilst pointing everything out with his little finger.”

“Well, you can’t speak French, darling. I think he tried his best at explaining the menu to you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Just, please stop drooling on the pillow and put on something nice. For me?”

Seeing the convincing puppy look on his face, she gave in with a sigh and a very loud slurping noise as she lifted her head from the pillow, making Mark huff.

 Meeting with James and Rachel wasn’t the worst thing in the world, because she didn’t see them very often and they were overall nice people. At least, if you didn’t count every time James tried to be the smartass of the group by giving some random fact about anything and everything they came across, or if you ignored the way Rachel was evidently very flirty and touchy with Mark, or if you turned your head away every time the couple made those wretched kissing noises as they shared what should be an intimate moment.

What Mark had with Rachel was something she could never come between, something she also shared with many good friends of her own. They were the type who would always share that bond with you, no matter how long you hadn’t seen each other, and she could only be happy that Mark still had friends like that.

His work as a lawyer didn’t allow for him to make all that many mates, as most try to stab him in the back just to be able to get that promotion they wanted. He’d often come home with his head hung low after days like that, when loneliness took over the pride he had of his usually exhilarating job.

And thus, as she watched Rachel hug him extra tight, she kept her mouth shut. It was for the best, and it was only one afternoon she had to endure.

But she vowed to herself to not let it happen at her wedding. That was her day. Fuck Mark and fuck Rachel. She wasn’t going to be left alone dancing with James, who seemed to be known for having two left feet, by her own husband. But that was something she’d have to worry about in the future.

Her worries now were trying to translate a French menu without asking a waiter, deciding which fork to use, and refraining from telling James to shut up about the painting that hung behind him, of which he was giving an entirely unnecessarily intricate description.

“As you can see, the painter made sure the flag of the boat is standing diagonal to the man in the front, to make the artwork a treat for the eye with this interesting form of composition. It makes the scene all the more dramatic, wouldn’t you agree?”

Mark and Rachel hummed thoughtfully, but both were looking at the painting as if it was some Professor Layton puzzle they had yet to solve.

“What do you think?” James turned to her directly, catching her off guard. James usually wasn’t one to ask others for their opinion, so she could only guess it was an attempt to test her bare knowledge on the subject to make himself look like the smarter one.

“I think you said it all, James,” she decided to answer with, “I’m afraid I haven’t thought about art in that way since my classes in school. As of now, I have more important things to worry about than what the composition in a painting is like.”

It was low of her, she knew that, but someone needed to teach him a lesson.

“Ah,” James said, seemingly unfazed by her subtle insult, “Now that you mention it, how’s your book coming along?”

She sighed. Of course, he was going to play that card. She could’ve seen it coming.

Being a published writer of a few mediocre novels she’d written back in school, she was still in search for her new muse, and things were getting a bit desperate, to say the least. She had absolutely no idea what her next story was going to be about, finding everything in her life to be inexplicably boring and explicitly dull.

Not so much to say she wasn’t happy. No, she liked being with Mark. But she couldn’t say her life was a real adventure with him, or anyone for that matter. They lived in an apartment in the big city, where Mark had his day job and she her comfortable bed. He’d come home and she would’ve cooked – whatever attempt it was each time – and cleaned, and perhaps even written down a page or two only to never look at it again.

“Oh, you know. It’s getting there,” she lied, “Inspiration is lacking a bit these days, unfortunately.”

“I’ve always found inspiration to be a bit of a myth,” James said thoughtfully, “Why is it exactly that one particular thing that’s so inexplicable yet so necessary to create something? It seems a bit… I don’t know, like an excuse for some writers. I’ve heard many talk about it seriously, and many call it pure laziness. But then again, I wouldn’t really know much of the matter.”

There was the comeback.

She smiled tightly. “No, you wouldn’t. I can agree that some writers use it as an excuse to hide their laziness, as I find that a lot of characters write their own stories as soon as you sit down and start typing. However, inspiration is indeed something vague, and could be considered a writer’s virtue or downfall. It’s however you approach the subject, and however you try to deal with it or rationalize it as an artist.”

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have even mentioned it. I wouldn’t know much about it, since I’m only an art consultant, after all.” He threw his hands up degradingly.

Fucker.

“Oh, come on, let’s not be so childish. All of our work is equally as important, as long as we’re happy doing it,” Rachel intervened, before raising her glass, “Here’s a toast to inspiration and art!”

Though she was relieved the argument was over and the attention drawn away from her, she couldn’t help but feel that familiar itch from the downgrading undertone in Rachel’s voice. Call it jealousy if you might, but she wasn’t one to let something like that slip from her mind, however many years may pass.

“So, if I may be so bold to ask,” Rachel continued, and the writer had almost collected her guts to blatantly reply with a ‘no’ when the woman was already speaking again, “What are your plans after the wedding? Are you moving? Already thinking about having kids? No pressure, of course.” She laughed with a pitch so high it nearly shattered the wineglass she was bringing to her lips to pieces.

“Oh, she always gets a bit icky talking about having kids,” Mark chuckled, “But if it were up to her, we’d be moving to some remote village in the outskirts of France, living in a tiny apartment until we grow old and turn to dust.”

She shrugged at her fiancée, “Doesn’t sound all that bad to me.”

“That’s because you came up with it.”

“Don’t you want to be closer to your friends?” Rachel asked, “Why move to the middle of nowhere, when you have everything out here?”

“I don’t know. I guess because of the peace and quiet. A simple life, with the bare necessities.”

“I wouldn’t have protested if it wasn’t for my job,” Mark added, which was a blatant lie. She’d heard him cut off her dream many times over for many different reasons. “Unfortunately, my French isn’t good enough to be a lawyer, and certainly not in the outskirts somewhere.”

“I thought you barely spoke a word of French, anyway?” James asked her.

“I know, but I would learn it there. It would be a part of the adventure.”

He snorted, “I’m sorry darling, but adventure is for children. It’s time to grow out of that. Perhaps you should find something you like in a proper job.”

 She’d prompted to walk back to the hotel, through the rain, as Mark, James and Rachel – mostly Mark – had tried to convince her to share a cab with them. But no way in hell would she spend another unnecessary moment with that couple, and Mark knew better than to follow her out, for she would only be walking too quickly for him, and he would have quietly trailed after her the whole way back.

So, when she finally reached the building, he allowed her to soak in the tub for a few hours before finally approaching her.

“He has a point, you know.”

The look she gave him was an evident warning, yet he still had the guts to continue. “I’m not saying you should stop writing. I know that’s your passion. But, I’m asking you to maybe find something that could come close to that in the meantime, at least until you find something to write about. And perhaps, after we get married-“ he kissed her wrinkly palm, “-we could afford ourselves a nice vacation cot somewhere in the outskirts of France, and we could visit it as often as we’d like.”

She pursed her lips, turning her eyes away from his pensively. “I’m not sure your job would allow that. Your vacation days would be limited, and my desires to go on a holiday always growing.”

He smiled gently. “I’m sure we could work it out after I get that promotion.”

She looked at him, her eyes slightly glossy. “I just don’t want to feel like I’m giving up.”

“You’re not giving up, sweetheart. You’re only taking measures to be able to do the things you like, and when things are going well you can set your priorities straight. It’s the better thing to do.”

Her mind might be relieved to hear this solution, but her gut remained ridden with unease.

 “Mark? Are you coming?” she called out, her hand hovering over the doorknob of their room.

“I’ll be right after you!” she heard him say, “Work is phoning me, you go ahead. I’ll take the next cab.”

“Alright, but don’t be too long!”

 They were supposed to meet with their parents that evening to share the big news, but after hugs were shared and multiple cups of tea were had, Mark still hadn’t shown. She was beginning to grow worried when he didn’t pick up his phone, and even went as far as to step outside to frantically see if the connection was better.

After eight missed calls, she finally reached him.

“Can you believe it?” she heard him slur, “I stepped into the same cab as James! We’re at the pub, you should come join!”

Hearing faint noises of protest from others on the other end of the line, she quickly grew more and more bothered. “Mark, we were supposed to see my parents tonight.”

“Oh, we can see them again tomorrow! I figured you needed some catching up to do.”

“You could’ve joined in on that catching up, as they’ve barely seen you three times over the past four years we’ve been together.”

“Please don’t be like that sweetheart, you know I adore your parents. In fact, I’ll come over right now if that’s what you-“

“No,” she quickly cut him off, not being able to stand the mental sight of her parents having to deal with her drunk fiancée. “You know what, have fun. I’ll stay at my parents’ for the night.”

“Sounds like fun! Call me-“

She’d hung up the phone before he could finish his sentence, and had dropped to her knees as she felt her bottom lip tremble. Not wanting to alert the neighbours, she quickly forced her numb legs to work again and strode in the direction of town, a walking route she usually took whenever she was upset when she was young. She sent a quick text to her mum, telling her she’d meet again with them tomorrow and explain what happened. She really couldn’t be bothered right now.

Tears streamed down her face at the thought that her feet were so unwilling to go back to face her parents, who she’d have to disappoint yet again with a disappearing soon-to-be son-in-law. It wasn’t that she couldn’t tell her parents about her problems, it was the thought of disappointing them once again with a mistake she was making.

A horrible, horrible mistake.

She was no longer aware of which way she’d gone, as all shops around her seemed unfamiliar, yet she could’ve sworn she hadn’t messed up any turns in her route.

Wherever she was though, was a beautifully quaint, with antique streetlights and a cobbled road. Shop windows held curtains made from white lace, and showed off vintage clothes and items for a real bargain.

Must be one of those vintage sales, she figured, as her eyes grazed along cars with brands that were so old she couldn’t remember the names of them. Stores like these must attract the more interesting people with vehicles like those.

It was when she saw a polished and brand-new-looking typewriter in one of the windows, she paused. Above it, she saw her own reflection; a puffy reddened face stained with an ongoing array of tears.

“I really hope you’re not crying because you want that typewriter so awfully bad,” a voice spoke.

She whipped around, coming face to face with a man who was giving her a kind look. His eyes were hazel, matching the brown suit he wore, and his head shaved to a buzzcut. He had sharp features, and still looked awfully British.

“I- Uh… No, I’m not,” she stuttered, trying to wipe the waterworks away with her sleeve.

The man then held out a folded cotton handkerchief to her, along with a smile as an attempt to cheer her up. She gratefully accepted both.

“Not any bloke I’d need to beat up, is there?”

She laughed blubberingly, “I don’t think that would be the solution to my problems, but thank you.”

“Thank god,” he huffed, “Because to be quite honest, I can’t throw a punch for the life of me. I would’ve had to ask one of my mates to do it for me, and cheer him on as he’d won my own fight.”

“I don’t think that would count as your fight,” she chuckled.

“Defending a lady’s honour is always my fight,” he replied. He shook his head, “Apologies for the rudeness, miss. Haven’t even properly introduced myself. I’m Miles.”

She gave him her own name, “and it’s nice to meet you, Miles. May I ask what you’re doing about this late?”

He gave her a strange look, “Why, it’s the perfect hour, why wouldn’t I be about? The night has only just started, and one of my close mates is preforming in the pub nearby. Want to join?”

She only took a moment to hesitate, before wilfully agreeing. “Sure.”