#i had hopes that maybe they could still fix part of the story/characters but nope that's definitely never happening is it?

[duquesah]

I'm sorry, can we fucking talk about this???

I'm not surprised tbh but still, fuck whoever thought that adding this character for laughs was okay. How ignorant does one have to be to do THIS in 2024? Disabilities aren't funny, being disabled isn't funny, it fucking sucks that we still see shit like this in media. Call me a snowflake all you want, i don't give a flying fuck, I'm tired

[itachi-with-a-chicken]

Come be my teacher pt 2

Aish we're back

Link to part 1

Jung Hoseok nearly died to actually make publishable Yoongi's book

But eventually he made it

He hoped the day at the luna park was enough for Jungkook to be forgiven after spending nearly every afternoon with Namjoon and his kid brother

Mostly, he hoped Namjoon could forgive him to have to deal with both his child and his own kid brother

When he mentioned it, Namjoon has a variety of emotions.

Surprise, then recognition. Eventually softness.

"they have been good, all things considered." He laughs a little "Just warning you, Jungkook took a passion for Just Dance"

Well, Hoseok considers when he watches his son weirdly dancing in front of the television, there are worst things that could happen

Also, now that he has a life back, he can discard Min Yoongi in his man cave or whatever he likes to call his attic and go back to his routine

Which means, pick up and drive is kid to school

And see again the cute teacher

Not that he cares

But you know

He does

That day Kim Taehyung was wearing a dark green vest and a white shirt and looked as an absolute old man

His housemate confirmed it and if Kim Seokjin tells you you look bad, it's true

The thing is, Taehyung didn't want to look hot, he just wanted to look comfy and cozy to his kids

When he steps outside to collect the kids, he regretted every choice made that morning

Because there it was. In all his elegant glory. Jung Hoseok.

The two exchanged a small wave and Tae nearly forgot he has something to say to him

"Come on Taehyung" he tries to say to himself "he's just another parent. Nothing to worry about. Nothing special. Not a crush, no sir"

"Hoseok-ssi" he calls him. By his name, because the first thing Jung Hoseok told him as they met is "you're taking my son most of the week, we can at least call each other by our own names"

"yah?" He was already moving towards the car, dammit.

Stumbling at bit at the beginning, Tae tells him about the little recital he proposed to the school board that year

Hoseok beamed at him

"that sounds wonderful! kids will have loads of fun"

Taehyung was positively gloating, but tried to hide it

"so this week it's going to be parents-teachers conference, so we can explain every detail"

Nobody will pry from his cold hands the knowledge that the reason why it was happening that week was that Taehyung knew as a fact that Hoseok was busy until now

And also, that nobody knew about the meeting in the first place

The thing is, a meeting was supposed to happen at some point, and Taehyung was a very considerate teacher, okay?

He needed to tell the principal about the meeting, tho

Ugh

On the other hand, Hobi was quite serene.

The wonders of a full night sleep, he guessed

Nope nothing to do with the cute teacher and the cute vest that made him look cozy and cuddly and all the stuff a grown up should not look like

It would be a lie to say that it didn't do anything to Hoseok.

But then again, Hoseok can be a good liar

His phone chimed in, showing a text from Yoongi

"so did you ask him out?"

"who?" "What do you mean who" "i mean who would I ask out" "the teacher, dumbass"

Hoseok stared at the phone for a solid five seconds

"you don't even know what day of the week it is" "And yet I know you brought the little monster to school, so you've seen him"

For someone who forgets to eat, Yoongi can be really persistent about stuff

"why" he just asks, glancing away from his computer. If anything, he knows Yoongi has little to none interest in his love life by itself

Not after he finished all the people he could set him up, anyway

Including himself

That was so weird that both kinda decided it never happened

So back to the text, Hoseok patiently waited for whatever was the real reason behind such concern

"I may or may not started planning the next book based on whatever vibe you and your lovely teacher give off"

Hoseok shrieked, but just a little

"but you know!!! Most of the time the final product have nothing to do with the beginning!!!" Yoongi continues

Six exclamation point usually mean that he's either lying or trying to convince him of something he didn't actually believe in. So lying, after all.

"and what's the plot" hoseok asks, but then "no, nvm. Don't tell me. Just. Idk. No"

Yoongi didn't reply, but then his editorial instinct won over all his better judgement

"okay, tell me the plot"

Yoongi answer arrived after less then three minutes and it was a shit ton long. He basically already planned everything and all he needed was the main characters

"and they would be me and Kim Taehyung?" Was the only answer Hoseok managed to cave

Because yeah, if life was a written book maybe they could have been the perfect romance

Even by changing some basic stuff - "don't worry you're all idols here" - and making some unrealistic concessions - "your character is the greater dancer of all times" - the way Yoongi was telling the story

A story that didn't exist

makes him want to fall in love for real

But here's the catch: they were real people, and crush on your child's teacher is problematic at best, creepy at worst

So no, he won't be pursuing that. Thank you very much

(but gave yoongi permission to work on the story nevertheless because, you know, it's his job)

And he r e a l l y is set on his mind the day of the meeting after school

Doesn't matter that he exited work early just to go home and shower

And definitely didn't have anything to do with his choice of wardrobe that saw some neat jeans he had brought but never wore and his best fitting pastel red shirt

Along with a leather jacket because what the hell he was still young after all

And if some heads turned to check him out, when he entered the classroom, well. He couldn't blame them

He sat gingerly on his child desk and waited. Mr Kim still nowhere to be seen

Talking about Kim Taehyung

His day started the night before with his housemate that, in order to forget his impossible (only according to him) crush decided to have a drink

And since it would be too sad to drink alone, he had to bring Tae down with him

Little mattered he had to work the morning after and kids were not merciful with headache

He enters the room with the parents with eyes fixed on the floor, trying to remember everything he needed to say and--- oh

Of course Jung Hoseok was there

Of course he was stunning

And of cour-- no wait he was talking to Namjoon? What was he doing here?

Oh right. Mixed classes. His kids and mr Lee were together in this project.

Having the ten years old doing the talking and the eight years old doing the dancing was his idea after all

Mr Lee smiles at him, like the old turtle he was, and sat down, waiting for him to speak

The old turtle seemed frail and sweet but he remembered being a child with him. It was all a play

Which makes him perfect for this project, he guess

So, let's convince the parents he knew what he was doing and what he was talking about despite never producing any school play

It went fairly well for the most of it

Every time he met Hoseok's stare, the other man was smiling, and that made him feel both excited and incredibly shy

But mostly gives him enough confidence at least finish the presentation of the general idea

When parents asked questions - price, time needed, how the parts would have been distributed - he tries to be as clear as he can

And hopes nobody will actually spot how much he still doesn't know

Eventually, the questions are over and the meeting is too, with a copy of the project to take home and a promise to see each other as soon as possible

Tae was putting in order his papers, trying carefully to not perceive either Hoseok nor Namjoon, but of course karma hates him

So a few of his pages fly down the desk, right in front of. Well. Of course Hoseok. Who else

It's not like he could have the worst face in the history of faces and just have his life passing by

No, he had to live his 5-hours-sleep-10-hours-work while wearing his most anonymous clothes and have something less of a Idol staring at his face

Wait

He was staring

He said something

He said absolutely something and Tae was just too far away in his head to hear anything oh my--

"everything alright?" Hoseok asked, and the question clearly triggered Namjoon attention, because he came close too

"ye-what-ye sure. I'm sorry, I must be a bit tired. Hi, Namjoon-ah"

Hoseok smiles at him, but Taehyung makes a weird face at the other man

Well, they clearly knew each other enough to drop some honorifics

Probably wasn't the first time Namjoon came instead of his parents to school stuff like this, Hoseok always knew he was a good big brother

"You did great" the young man says, to which Taehyung smiles a little. Namjoon walks over them but doesn't stop, heading towards the door

"I gotta go now, Hoseok-ssi, see you Tuesday. Tae, see you around"

"Watch your steps" both Tae and Hoseok say, which surprised them, but proved them right when Namjoon bumped into a desk

Then it was only them. And Tae knew it's gonna be awkward really soon.

"so, how you know him?" He asks. Oh, Jungkook babysitter. Makes sense

"and you?"

Taehyung makes a weird face, half displeasure.

"I'll tell you in the parking lot, I'll feel less irresponsible if I'm not at work"

Hoseok felt he has to decline and go straight home

Also stop asking about the private life of his kid's teacher and babysitter

Because that was none of his business

But he was a nice person and nice people listen to what others have to say, right?

[mermaidsirennikita]

bridgerton--the good, the bad, the ugly

The short of it: Bridgerton excellently captures the tone of Regency romance novels and offers a lot of escapism and great sex scenes, but could definitely use some serious work in terms of how it depicts race and it should have made some further alterations to the dated and flawed source material.  Definitely loved a lot of it and am hotly anticipating the second season, but I want to see more work done and I HOPE that this encourages the adaptation of better (and less inherently flawed) romance novels.

Now for the longer take.

The Good

Bridgerton depicted sex and romance in a way that is totally different from anything I’ve seen in period dramas, for sure, but possibly different from anything I’ve seen on TV.  The romance of it all was woven into almost every aspect of the show. There is the handsome and seemingly severe but extravagantly wealthy and sexually adept duke sweeping into town.  The (multiple) rakes who just want to have fun while also being hot messes.  The awakening of female sexuality and the copious use of the female gaze.  (Note the pretty modest and minimal focus on female nudity, while we get plenty of lingering shots on Simon.).  People want love!  There is pretty minimal violence and perhaps the most physically violent scene involves Simon beating a man up because HE IMPEACHED DAPHNE’S HONOR~.

The sex scenes themselves focused on Daphne’s pleasure for the most part, and were probably among the best I’ve seen since Outlander in terms of chemistry, in terms of the visuals, in terms of focus on sex as an act of emotional connection and FUN. Yes, there was some Unlikely Vaginal Orgasming, but we also saw Simon tell Daphne about masturbation.  On the wedding night, he was pretty clearly touching her to help her enjoy it.  He ate her out... a good bit.  

And aside from that, we got all of the grand speeches, the stolen glances and touches, an excellent buildup of sexual tension that led to some pretty hilarious moments.  

I also really enjoyed many of the performances on this show.  Rege-Jean and Phoebe had great chemistry and excellent back and forth.  Jonathan was a GREAT Anthony.  I would argue that as lackluster as I found his relationship with Siena (more on that in a minute) it largely existed as a way to set him up for his romance with Kate.  He now has even more of a reason to be down with love, as opposed to solely relying on a kind of flimsy tragic backstory.  Additionally, his overprotectiveness of Daphne added tension to the story and made him a source of comedic relief for me?  I loved it.  Give me disaster Anthony all day; can’t wait until he falls to the enemies to lovers trope just like Simon fell to his FLAW-FREE fake dating plan.

A lot of the changes I found were really good.  Obviously, it was important that the show incorporated greater diversity (though they need way more).  Benedict was INFINITELY more fun and interesting than he was in the novels, and acted as another standout for me.  As much as I hate Portia Featherington, I think that the elevation of her to a proper villainess is probably necessary and Polly Walker excels at those types of roles, though they need to maybe have her be less like, actively racist.  I adored the addition of Queen Charlotte; she was excellent comic relief.  Lady Danbury’s expanded role and relationship to Simon was one of the best moves they made.  It touched my entire soul.

Buuuut....

The Bad

The show needs to work on casting more men that are frankly on Rege-Jean’s level.  It feels a bit awkward to see a guy that is by most people’s standards kind of stunning and then.... Colin looks twelve.  Lord Philip is like... a farm guy.  Get rid of the sideburns, we’re in romance novel territory.

In the same note, the girl who played Siena wasn’t a great actress and wasn’t super stunning, so even though I’m fine with her being a placeholder....  Eh.  Go for better casting.  The woman playing Madame Delacroix would’ve played that role so much better and I really enjoyed her dynamic with Benedict because she was just fun.

Frankly, I don’t know what the fuck they’re going to do to make me want to watch Penelope and Colin fall in love.  Their book was already a bit basic--fun, but far from revolutionary.  I don’t really get why they would receive attention similar to that of Kate and Anthony, basically.  The issue is that Colin, again, looks and sound rather young and twerpy.  It obviously wasn’t great for him to be tricked into raising another man’s child, but.... For fuck’s sake, how much would that have affected his life on a practical level.  He’d never know unless he was told, thanks to the lack of DNA tests.  He was marrying far out of his league in terms of attractiveness.  He’s a rich white guy in England with a supportive family.  

I really disliked the fact that Colin told Marina in his huffy little tantrum that he would have married her anyway--because would you have, buddy?  Really?  The thing is that Marina had no way of knowing that and her entire life (and the reputations of her cousins) was on the line.  She didn’t know if she could trust Colin to keep her secret.  They barely knew each other.  He basically came off as a whiny child and I’m fine with him staying in Greece if that’s the plan.

Penelope was just... psychotic.  And that was really disappointing, because I love Nicola and would love to have loved to see the fat girl get her sexy love story.  But first off, lol, it wouldn’t have been sexy because Colin was miscast.  Second, she basically tried to destroy Marina’s life and that of her sisters?  And herself?  Because Colin?  Because Colin, a guy who hasn’t even shown any amount of attraction to her at this point?  Her tears, her whining, it was all too much.  Penelope was dealing with a crush and Marina was dealing with the real Grown Woman issues of a child out of wedlock and as it turned out a dead lover and they were not on equal footing.

I mean, Penelope could very well make a great villainess at this point, and if done well I’d embrace it.  But I do not know how the fuck they can make me interested in her love story.  And the idea of her basically being launched into villainy because she was this chubby white girl obsessively jealous of a beautiful black woman...... not a great look.

The show definitely needs to explore diversity in terms of sexuality too--I don’t think it’s correct to read Benedict as straight because he still seems to be open to exploring.  Once he has more screentime, I think he could totally end up being bisexual, and it’s possible that the writers were trying to feel the audience out in terms of their receptiveness to taking a straight character who has a big straight love story in the books and making him LGBT+.  Eloise could also easily be a lesbian, and I’d be thrilled to see that happen.  They need to do something to expand the world, and if there are 8 Bridgerton kids, all of them being straight as an arrow seems SO unlikely.

The Ugly

Obviously, the rape scene was bad and should have been written out.  Simon could have gotten caught up in the moment and blown up at Daphne after he accidentally didn’t pull out in time.  Men.... accidentally don’t pull out in time... a lot.  That’s how babies happen.  It would’ve been believable, and due to our sympathies being with Simon largely, I don’t think he would have become irredeemable if he was more at fault than Daphne.  

As it was, I will say that the scene was somewhat better than it played in the books because Simon was conscious and totally sober, and it was a bit?  Confusing?  That he didn’t just roll Daphne over and pull out?  Because she wasn’t really clearly trying as hard as she was in the book to wrap her legs around him and hold him tight.  But it remained a rape scene.  The show also did a better job, I think, of establishing how fucked up it was that Simon took advantage of Daphne’s lack of knowledge.  Whatever he said about thinking she knew what was up--he knew she didn’t even know about masturbation.  He had to know she wouldn’t understand what pulling out meant.  He did very clearly mislead her to think that he was sterile and therefore denied Daphne her ability to give informed consent.  Did that justify what Daphne did?  Nope.  Two wrongs don’t make a right.  But both of them did a fucked up thing and I think that we honestly could’ve stopped at Simon’s misleading.

The issue too is that this leads into a bigger problem the show had.  It wanted to include diversity (yay!) but did not consider the total implications of what was happening (not yay).  Daphne and Simon’s dynamic is inevitably influenced by the fact that she’s a white woman and he’s a black man, regardless of whatever handwaves happened.  This influences the sexual assault and makes it even more messy.

Speaking of mess, I’m not sure what exactly would have fixed the “we don’t want this to be a colorblind casting” issue... but the explanation they came up with wasn’t good.  Never mind that this makes everything SUPER confusing (racism is over like..... maybe 50 years MAX after Queen Charlotte’s marriage if we assume she was a teen when she married and is in her 60s now?) but Lady Danbury’s dialogue explaining this was HORRENDOUS.  “One of them fell in love with one of us”.  The implications are awful.  I don’t know if perhaps setting back the integration of society centuries earlier would have helped?  But this wasn’t it.

Additionally, the writers and casting directors didn’t seem to get that diversity is all well and good, but what about the fact that almost every black character has a light skin tone?  Why are there so few black female characters?  Why is Marina, the most prominent woc on the show, given the “pregnant and desperately trying to trick a man into marrying her until her jealous white cousin fucks her life up and she is humiliated into settling for a loveless match” plot?  I desperately hope we see her next season, falling in love with Sir Phillip or perhaps having experienced a plot twist that gives her someone else...  And she better not die. Eloise can find someone else if Marina really ends up with Sir Philip.

Ultimately, again, I really loved the show.  But it needs to work on some things.  I think that a lot of its issues can be addressed and fixed in a future season, and I HOPE they do that.

[lovecolibri]

There with you on the middle child-middle of the road opinions lol. Like from the little that we know about B there are some parts I'm interested in and others that I'm dreading, like these new characters.

There was so much time in A to write an arc for Bobby who has been a glorified regular for the past couple of seasons or hen who got one and a half storylines and one was the woman she cheated on her wife with, and buck who was a boyfriend or eddie they could have foreshadowed the trauma a lot earlier, and then they elected to focus on random people? People that the audience is not at all interested in? Because this is a first responder show and not about reporters? Or that creepy r*pist?

And people are supposed to be excited for B? Not surprised at ALL some are done with this!

Please don't ask me how long I've sat on this ask (nearly a month) or how long it took me to find this post because Tumblr literally hates me searching for my own things.

On the bright side, we now have a *little* more information on 5b and it is....all shaping up to look pretty darn good (though anyone outside the firefam calling Bobby "cap" is an immediate Michael Scott "Nope! Don't Like That" reaction). I do think it's going to suffer a bit because people (even the general audience) had such a negative reaction to 5a, but I really feel like 5b is going to pull things together that felt broken because that feeling was intentional.

However, as I said in my original post, my issues with a lot of 5a are things that won't be fixed by 5b because they weren't about the isolated, dark feeling/tone (okay a little bit that, because this is my comfort show and even in stressful, darker times in other seasons we were given SOME comfort and saw characters supporting each other and 5a was missing some of that tonal balance), but were more to do with the balance of characters and how little we got to see of, as you pointed out, the actual first responders, doing the first responding. I mean, Ghost Stories?! What TF was that? We saw the first responders responding to an emergency and then spent the rest of the episode following the case?! And with side characters no less, not even Athena working the case! Because if they wanted to integrate the reporter into the firefam, having her and Athena working together would be a great way to go, and would allow them to maybe address her season 2 actions that they seem to want us to believe Athena has forgotten about and moved on from (which, false. That woman would never). But instead we have half an episode that does not contribute to the overarching storylines of the show in ANY capacity, plus, Lou solved the case entirely on his own anyway, and the reporter's ramblings in Buck's loft did not affect the outcome of the case or the way the actual detective pursued and solved the case.

I AM excited for 5b. I think the potential for us to get some truly amazing stories, especially for Eddie is incredibly high, and I am absolutely vibrating with excitement about all of it. But it won't change 5a still being full of episodes I have no desire to watch at all, or to watch in full because they were too focused on side characters (not you, Ravi, you're an angel and we are HAPPY to have you and hope to learn so much more about you! Muwah!), or played out like some creepy SVU or Criminal Minds episode (sorry not sorry, I can't watch shows like that. The world is horrid enough, I don't need my entertainment to revel in showing the worst, most disturbing things people are capable of).

All this to say, I can totally understand why some people might want to wait for 5b to come out in full, or until they see what others have to say. It wont' be me, I absolutely want to watch live because my brain is just Like That, and like I said, I am truly excited. And I even love most of the arcs other people don't seem to because I really enjoy how 911 tells these adult stories that are dramatic situations, but handled in human ways focusing on growth and healing instead of what the most extreme and dramatic response could be. I like that there are often situations that are hard, and the characters are hurting or unintentionally hurt each other, but the show doesn't paint one of them to be "the bad guy" because real life is like that, real people are like that! They make mistakes and have to apologize, and have to learn to communicate and 911 does it soooo well! 5a may have veered off course a little, but the stuff we DID get that was focused on the firefam was exceptional (Kenneth Choi Emmy when?! Give that man so many awards!), and has set up 5b to be some truly magical storytelling. I'm excited to see it, and hopeful that the backlash from the general audience about the focus on side characters has been noted and we are going to get to see more of our first responders doing their jobs, having cool and interesting rescues, and being a family. And if what Oliver Stark has said is any indication, it's going to be a wild and enjoyable ride!

[hiswhiteknight]

Unbelievably Outlandish– Part 7

Summary:  Before starting down a new crossroads, the Reader goes onto an adventure of literary traveling. Suddenly tossed into an unbelievable story that has swept the world, The Outlander Series itself. How will a twenty first century woman survive?

Note: I own no characters, except reader, clearly this is based off the lovely book series Outlander by Diana Gabaldon and tv show. This follows more the tv show, but it’s far from accurate. I’m going to try to get better with using less proper English, but who knows maybe I’ll get into Scottish slang.

Message me if you’d like to be added to a taglist!

Pairing: Jamie Fraser x Female Reader

Words: 1500

Warning: Angst, playfulness, cursing, slow start, obviously fighting and such

The following day I was nursing a hangover when Dougal came down to see me, “Thought you’d like to go to town and meet with Geillis Dunkin to stock up on herbs and such for the gathering.”

“Dougal, I’m not a healer, not like that,” you said to him, feeling flustered and irritated.

“You helped Collum, you healed the boy from getting too sick with some water and vomiting. You’re plenty a healer that we need,” he directed back to you.

You shake your head, “That’s just a bit of luck and experience. There will be a ton of things I’ll know nothing about,” you tried to change his mind. “I can help with teaching defense and battle skills, not healing.”

His laugh shot through your body like boiling water through your veins, “A woman, we won’t be needing your help there. You’ll do as your told.” Before you could respond with another comment, “I’ll be back to pick you up soon, you can learn from Mistress Duncan about the herbs.”

When you trotted away, you stomped your foot harshly to the ground. This wasn’t going to your plan; you were not ready for this type of responsibility. You had only been talking to the boys during a lesson of sword play. They were discussing eating something strange, like a fungus. You got lucky with caution, they could have just eaten a regular mushroom and been just fine. You instructed them to vomit and flush with fluid. And the fact that women have no word or rights here was starting to grill you.

Collum took you to Geillis, she was quite the intriguing character. You didn’t trust her and her motives, which made you not particularly like her. She had a ton of helpful information and a good resource for future healing, “You’re a strange woman, Mistress O’Mulligian.”

“Y/N,” you corrected her, “Please.” You moseyed around the room, “I could say the same about you, dear. A woman of your beauty and charm, I expect you to be a lady of some fortune or what not.”

“You humble me, Y/N,” Geillis said to you, “A mystery you are, indeed.”

A commotion outside took my attention, “What’s this,” Geillis walked over to you to look at the window. She explained how the boy had most likely stolen something and will be punished with the loss of his hand, “Barbaric, he is a child.”

“Do you not have punishment where you are from,” she questioned you with a smirk. You remained quiet as she watched you. Before she could grill you more, her husband came up, looking for more remedies to his constipation you guessed. He was farting up a storm while sharing of the incident.

You cannot control the roll of your eyes, “He is a child, probably starving, maybe younger family members starving. He clearly is poor,” you said still looking out the window at the child.

“Get out,” he huffed, essentially ignoring my words to him.

Geillis smirked at you, before turning her charm onto her man. You watched as she manipulated her husband by using her sex appeal and doe like nature. And just like that, the boys lost hand was nothing but a forethought. Geillis smirked at you, watching you like she was trying to uncover all your mystery. After an hour of chatting and teaching you a bit more about medicine, Jamie popped in. You shot up, trying to fix your hair, and looking shy at this unexpected guest.

Jamie greeted you both, “Collum got called off and asked for me to take you home.”

“I could have managed on my own,” you answered.

Geillis caught on, “A woman travelling alone these parts, a colonist woman,” she laughed, “Unlikely, you are a mystery girl. What do you think Mister McTavish, don’t you think she is a bit strange?”

Jamie looked down, laughing a little, “Different, but not strange. You ready to go Mistress O’Mulligain.”

“I am,” you turned to Geillis, “Thank you for everything, I really cherish your help.”

“Of course, dear, I hope to see you soon. I’ve love to pick apart some of this mystery,” she smiled back. Something about that smile sent shivers down your spine.

Jamie followed you out, carrying your bags for you. You saw the boy, “When is he to be released?”

Jamie caught sight of what grabbed your attention, “Whenever he feels like it, he just has to release himself.”

You spin around, have him bump into your chest. He gripped your arm with his free hand to steady you more, “He has to pull off his ear.”

“Could be his hand,” he shot back at you, “He’ll do it when he is ready.” You didn’t move, giving him a special stare, “You want me to do something, I know that look.”

“He is just a boy,” Jamie looked at you with a soften look, knowing he had already loss his battle. “I have pretty strong fingers, you cause a distraction, like a little fire or something.”

He looked from the boy to you again, “A fire, Deoiridh, why don’t you fake a fright and fall, and I’ll release the boy.”

You lightly slap Jamie’s cheeks repeatedly with a grin, trying to tease him, “You are a smart man Mister McTavish. Smarter than I gave you before.”

He rolled his eyes, “Nay, I’m a foolish man,” he started for the boy. And it all played by smoothly, my fainting and him rescuing the boy unnoticed. By the time, I began to stand Jamie was taking hold of me and guiding me to the horse, “Let’s keep to these things as little as possible. I don’t need the attention and neither do you, Deoiridh.”

Jamie helped you onto your horse, feeling his grip on your hips, you tried to push past the fluster. On the peaceful journey back you turned to Jamie, “Deoiridh,” he looked at you, giving you a curious glance, “I imagine it’s Gaelic and you shared it’s a nickname that befits me, but what does it mean?”

“It loses something in translation,” he said to you.

“Go on with it Jamie,” you urge him to continue, “I’m not easily offended.”

He huffed out, “It means something of a pilgrim woman, a traveler with big bright eyes that could see into, well can just see things people cannot. Fearless little woman,” he said to you. “Just something about you, feels right for a nickname,” he finished looking down the path instead of you.

“It’s sweet, thank you,” you glance at him before clearing your throat and continuing onto the castle. Jamie was sweet enough to show you around the area, showing you bits of his childhood. He made you laugh and taught you things you never knew about. It was nice and if you had ever actually had a crush before, you would imagine it would feel like this.

He helped you down from your horse and started to help you carry some of your bags to your new workspace. You caught eye with Laoghaire, she was looking at you and Jamie. This shot you into reality, Jamie was just a thought, an unrealistic dream. “So Y/N, I was thinking before the gathering, I was hoping to take you-.”

You hollered for Murtagh, shocking Jamie from mid-speech, “What do you want woman?”

“Can you help me get this stuff to my healing room,” you hesitated not knowing what to call it.

Murtagh looked from you to Jamie, “Seems young Jamie’s got it figured out.”

“Jamie hands are full with something else,” Jamie looked at your confused, “I think Laoghaire would like to talk to you.”

“Y/N, I’m-,” Jamie tried to interrupt you.

“Nope,” you shook your head, passing your bags to Murtagh, who looked annoyed and unamused, “I don’t want you to waste any more time with me, go,” you gestured towards the girl not so subtly looking in our direction.

He looked like he was about to argue, but you stop him again, “I need to get to know Murtagh anyway, you told me I should start being nicer to him.”

“This is nicer,” Murtagh questioned.

“Alright,” Jamie tossed up his hands, “Good luck with the Lass.”

You and Murtagh started to move to your workspace, “What do you think you’re doing,” he whispered harshly to you.

“Getting ready for the gathering,” you answered with charm, “I took you for a more intelligent man Murtagh.”

“Don’t play dumb, girl,” he moved in front of you, “I mean with Jamie, your playing your games. You’re going to get him in trouble with all your messing around.”

Not letting yourself think too much about it, you walked around him ignoring what he was saying, “I’m not doing anything, I’m introducing him to a girl that likes him.”

“Miss, he doesn’t need a girl like Laohaire,” he sulked after you.

“What’s wrong with her, she is clearly interested in Jamie, she’s beautiful, and I imagine he’ll want to marry one day,” you continued, trying to avoid the feeling of jealousy.

Murtagh tossed down your bags, “You’re right about that, but Laohaire is a lassie and she’ll always be a lassie. Jamie needs a woman to be taking care of him and he her,” he said, “Stop with your meddling before you get him killed.” You stared after him, what was that supposed to mean when he said Jamie needs a woman.

PART 8

Taglist:  @doctorwhatwhenandwhere @damnedandbroken @blushingpogue @blancastans @slytherinambitious

[somerandomdutchfangirl]

Hetalia Family Week - Day 1: Hobbies

This is my entry for @hetafamilyweek day 1 - hobbies (and hugs)

Summary:  They didn't have time for family hangouts often, with them being nations and all that, but whenever they did, it was safe to say it was the most fun any of them would have that week.

Sometimes, they would just go for a coffee or lunch or have a picnic. Other times, they would binge-watch a series while cuddling on the couch. And then, there were times like this.

This has also been posted to my a03!

Disclaimer: the opinions of the characters aren’t necessarily the authors opinion. Also, some of the sentences have been translated with Google Translate. If there is any mistake, please let me know and I'll fix as soon as possible! The translations are at the end.

Names used:

Willem = Netherlands

Femke = Belgium

Laurent = Luxembourg

Antonio = Spain

Matthew = Canada

Abel = Holland, @starflight-blog oc

Sjoerd = Friesland, @starflight-blog oc

Lieke = Groningen, @starflight-blog oc

Relevant headcanons time!  

- Femke owns a cat named Mika

- Matthew and Willem are married (see end notes for more info)

- Matthew uses he/they pronouns

:readmore:

They didn't have time for family hangouts often, with them being nations and all that, but whenever they did, it was safe to say it was the most fun any of them would have that week.

Sometimes, they would just go for a coffee or lunch or have a picnic. Other times, they would binge-watch a series while cuddling on the couch. And then, there were times like this.

"Can't you two sit still for like five minutes? If you want this painting to actually look good, you're gonna have to let me actually have time to paint you!"

"What if we want it to look like Picasso?"

"Laurent, hoepel een eind op, Picasso sucks and so do his paintings."

"Don't let Antonio hear you say that."

"Antonio can go fuck himself."

"Guys, let's keep this fun, alright? I want to enjoy this day," Femke chimed in. Willem huffed but didn't complain further. Laurent grinned and continued composing a piece for the harp standing next to him.  

(When Laurent had led them towards his "inspiration room" as he liked to call it, which was just a room filled with instruments, art supplies and more, both siblings had been filled with dread at the thought of Laurent playing the tuba, or god forbid, the trombone. Willem had said: "Laurent, I swear to god, if you're going to play the tuba or the trombone, I'm going to throw both you and the instrument out of the nearest window." To which Laurent had been a smartass and replied, "Can you even lift all that weight though?" That had ended up in a chase through the house that ended when Femke tackle-hugged both.)

The comfortable silence continued for a while, broken only by the occasional sigh from one of the siblings or Laurent trying the piece on the harp.

"Hey, Fem," Laurent walked up to her while he was taking a quick break, "What're you making?"

"Well, I'm trying to embroider our pets, but this stitch just won't work, godverdomme-"

"Maybe you should take a break and come back to it later? It's getting late anyway, we should eat dinner soon," Laurent suggested. Femke nodded. When no conformation came from Willem, they turned to him.

"Hey, earth to Willem! Did you hear what we just said?" Laurent asked, walking up to him and quickly stopping next to him. "Nondikass!" He exclaimed. "Willem, that looks amazing! How'd you do that in such a short time?!"

Femke, now curious, walked up to her brothers and peeked over their shoulders. "What the fuck, Willem," she gaped at the painting in front of her. It was clearly her and Laurent doing their respective hobbies, with beautiful lighting and background. The vibrant colours of the front of the painting was a stark contrast to the background, which had much softer tones. "You told us you were rusty! What part of this is rusty?!"

Willem, who was now looking more like a tomato, opened his mouth, no doubt to point out all the things that were wrong with it, but Laurent cut him off. "Nope, Mr. Perfectionist, you're not pointing out all the imperfections of this, and that's final. This is a masterpiece, seriously. Don't give me that look!"

"You know," Femke mused, "I might actually hang this in my house once it's dry."

"Guys," Willem said, flustered, "It's not that good. Really. Thanks for the compliments, but-"

"No buts!" Femke exclaimed at the same time Laurent yelled: "Not that good?!"

"Yeah, it's... the colour's off, the perspective is weird, and-"

"I am this close to actually strangling you with your scarf, Willem," Femke cut him off, her hands on her hips. "So what if it isn't perfect? That doesn't make it look any less amazing! I'll tell you what, we're gonna take a break, then we're going to come back here, and you'll see how amazing this actually looks."  

Willem looked at her for a few seconds before sighing. "Fine..."

"Now don't go around brooding like that, it's no fun," Laurent said while shooting Femke a quick thumbs-up. Femke grinned.

"Now, come on! I'll make waffles!"

---

"Hey, Matthew replied!" Laurent exclaimed, effectively cutting off Willems' story on the antics of Abel and Sjoerd.

(Apparently, they had gotten into a fight over who had the most creative curse words. This had ended in Abel singing along to the curse word song in Dutch, until Lieke walked in. Sjoerd had promptly slapped a hand over Abel's mouth to stop him from ‘tainting Lieke's innocence’. It was weird.)

"What do you mean?" Willem asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, dearest brother of mine," Laurent replied with a shit-eating grin, which did absolutely nothing to ease Willem's worries. "Because you didn't seem too convinced by us literally shouting how amazing your painting was, we decided to send a picture to Matthew-"

"You what?!"

"-to see what he thinks of it," Laurent continued, unfazed. "Since, you know, you seem to care a lot about what they think, about as much as you care about what we think? I mean I would hope so, considering we're your siblings, but-"

"You're getting off track, Laurent," Femke cut him off. "Anyway, we figured that if anyone other than us would manage to convince you that your painting is amazing, it's gonna be Matthew."

"I-"

"Don't even try to deny it. We went to your wedding, remember? We know how much you care about him. Which is a good thing, by the way. So, Laurent, what did they say?"

"Well, there's an all-caps keysmash, followed by an all-caps 'what?!'. Scratch that, basically everything is in caps. So, the general train of thought is 'what the fuck, this is beautiful, how the fuck did he do this, he calls this rusty?!' And finally, 'I love it 10/10 would hang in my living room and/or show off to my family and friends. It's beautiful and I'll physically fight him on that.'"

"Awww, that's so sweet! See, Willy, your painting truly is amazing!" Femke, sporting a somehow genuine but shit-eating grin, patted her brother on the back. Said brother had his head in his hands and may or may not be crying.

"I hate you two," came the muffled reply with no real heat behind it. Femke and Laurens laughed.

"We love you too, you softie! Now come on, who's ready to spend more time together!" Femke cheered, already halfway across the room.

---

"Jezus Christus, Femke, that looks amazing!" Willem said, looking at the embroidery his sister had made. It pictured their pets, Pelutze, Mika, and Nijntje. 

"Aww, thanks Willem!"

"Wait, let me see- wow, sis, this is really good! I love it!"  

"Thank you, Lau! By the way, is your composition nearly finished? I want to hear it!"

"Me too, actually."

"Well, it's not done yet, but I can play what I have so far?"

"Yes please!" Femke smiled.

Laurent sat down and started playing the piece of music he had written on the harp. Moving his fingers delicately along the strings, the beautiful melody carried along the room. Once he was done, he looked up.

"So... what did you think- Femke are you okay?!"

"Yeah, sorry, it's just... it's so beautiful!" Femke cried, flinging herself at Laurent and crushing him in a hug.  

"I agree with Femke, it was wonderful," Willem chimed in, walking over to his siblings. Femke quickly included him in the hug.

"You two are so talented, what the hell!"

"Fem, you're crushing me," Laurent gasped. "And don't you dare exclude yourself, have you seen what you just made?!"

"Yeah, but-"

"No buts, remember," Willem said, parroting her words back to her with a smirk.

"Why are you like this?"

Willem laughed at this. "You still love me despite it, though!"

"That's not an answer!"

"Is it not?"

"Absolutely not!"

"Guys, please stop. This is a stupid argument," Laurent rolled his eyes.

"Rolling your eyes at us? How rude, Lau," Willem said, locking him in a headlock and ruffling his hair.

"Hey, let me go!"

"Hmmm, let's see... Nope."

"Oh, come on! Fem, help me out here!"

Femke just laughed in response.

"Betrayal!" Laurent screeched, struggling to get out of his brother's headlock. Femke just laughed harder in response, almost falling over.

"You know, you could always just say the magic word to get out."

"The magic- What am I, five?"

"You certainly act like it sometimes."

"Fëck dech."

"Real mature, Laurent."

"Oh, like asking for the magic word is so mature."

"Absolutely. I haven't heard it yet, by the way. Femke, are you doing alright?" Willem asked, as his sister was now lying on the floor, tears streaming down her face. Gasping for air, she shook no.

"Seems like you'd better let me go before we make Femke choke," Laurent commented. Willem tsk-ed.

"Fine, fine. Fem, get up," he said, letting Laurent out of the headlock and extending a hand towards Femke.

"Give- give me a... minute," she said, still gasping for air. After she managed to get enough air in her lungs and not burst out laughing after she saw her brothers standing in front of her with worried (albeit semi-irritated) looks, she finally took Willem's offered hand.

"You two are utter morons."  

Willem gasped. "Are you hearing this, Laurent? Slander, complete and utter slander!"

"Well, she's right about one of us, and it isn't me."

"Laurent, ik tyf je de Noordzee in als je niet ophoudt-"

"Try me, old man-"

"Who're you calling old you little-"

''Oh for- hou uw bakkes! If this becomes another argument, I will smother both of you!''

''You wouldn't dare,'' Willem said. After a beat of silence and a fierce glare from Femke, he added: ''Would you?''

''I don't know, why don't you find out?''

''Fem, you're scaring me a bit here,'' Laurent said nervously. Femke hummed. Laurent looked at Willem, wide-eyed. Willem just looked back and shrugged.

''Could you even reach me though?'' Willem, who apparently had a death wish, asked.

Femke whipped around, glaring at her brother. Willem just glared back.

''Guys, no, no one's getting killed today,'' Laurent interjected. ''This is supposed to be a fun family meeting, remember? If there's any way anyone's going down,'' he added on, a devilish grin on his face as he slowly inched closer to his still glaring siblings, ''It's going to be this way!'' he yelled as he quickly poked Willem in his side, who immediately yelped and tried to get away. To no avail, because Femke quickly latched onto his arm and started poking him in his side too.  

''No, Fem, wait- What did I do to deserve this?!''

''Well, uh... you took the last waffle?''

''Are you asking me, or-'' Willem started to ask, then yelped again as his siblings started to tickle him.

''No! Please, mercy!''

''Hmmm, Lau, what do you think? Should we stop?'' Femke asked, looking at her younger brother.

''I don’t know, Fem,'' Laurent answered back, devilish grin still on his face. ''He hasn’t said the magic word yet.''

''Godverdomme, natuurlijk is dat het antwoord. Kut! Laurens, stop!''

''Hmm, let me think. Nee.''

Femke snickered. ''He looks like a worm, wiggling like that.''

''How the fuck-''

''Oh my god you're so right,'' Laurent said. ''Willem the worm,'' he started to say, but burst out laughing halfway through. Femke laid on top of Willem, wheezing. Willem, meanwhile, looked absolutely mortified.

''You two are so immature,'' he said.

''Says the guy currently laying on the floor because he's ticklish.''

''I will strangle you,'' Willem threatened.

''Try me, bit- Hey!'' Laurent started to say, before Willem had reached forward and pulled him besides him.

''You know, this is actually surprisingly comfortable,'' Femke commented after a beat of silence.

''No, you're heavy. Get off me- Lau don't you dare lay on top of Femke or I swear- oof!''

''Hmm? What was that?''

''I'll kill you.''

''Aw, we love you too!''

''... Ugh, fine, if I say it, will you get off?''

''Maybe!''

''You two are gremlins, oh my god. Fine, I love you too.''

''He said it! Lau, he said it!''

''Yeah yeah, we all heard it. Now get off me.''

''I mean... technically I never promised I'd get off-''

''Off. Now. Or I'll never bring you stroopwafels again.''

This earned him a scandalized gasp from both of his siblings.

''You’re so mean! How dare you deprive us of stroopwafels?!''

''You can't do that!''

''You two are impossible. I said off,'' Willem complained, trying to sit up. Which was hard, considering Femke was literally laying on top of him.  

''Say the magic word first.''

''Are you serious right now? Femke, we are not five.''

''So?''

''... Fine. Femke, can you please get the fuck off me?''

''Fine, close enough,'' she said as she got off Willem, who immediately took a deep breath.

''Finally, oh sweet air how much I've missed you.''

''You’re so weird. Anyway,'' Femke said, turning towards Laurent. ''You recorded the whole thing, right?''

Laurent laughed and rolled his eyes. ''Like you had to ask.''

Willem gaped at them, before jumping up. ''Godver- Laurent give that camera here, right now!''

''No, I don’t want to. I must say this is great blackmail material.''

''Laurent, als je nu niet die camera hier geeft, dan-''

''Du muss mech als éischt fänken!''

Needless to say, Willem ended up chasing Laurent through the house, Femke following closely behind. In the end, all three of them ended up in a dogpile on the couch, laughing. Yeah, family meetings were fun indeed.

-------------------------

Translations:

Hoepel een eind op (Dutch) = a nice(ish) way of saying ‘fuck off’ or ‘go away’

Godverdomme (Dutch, Flemish) = goddammit

Nondikass (Luxembourgish) = used as an exclaimation, meaning something like ‘damn’.

Jezus Christus (Dutch) = Jesus Christ

Fëck dech (Luxembourgish) = Screw you

Ik tyf je de Noordzee in als je niet ophoudt (Dutch) = I will throw you into the North Sea if you don't stop. (The word ‘tyf’ is pretty rude though, albeit used by a lot of teens in my experience, so I would not recommend going around actually saying this.)

Hou uw bakkes (Flemish) = shut up

Godverdomme, natuurlijk is dat het antwoord. Kut! (Dutch) = ‘Goddammit, of course that's the answer. Fuck!’ (even though the word 'kut’ doesn’t mean ‘fuck’, it's used as a replacement pretty often. The more accurate translation would be ‘vagina’, as that is literally what it means, but it's used as a curse word more often than not.)

Nee (Dutch, Flemish, Luxembourgish) = No

Laurent, als je nu niet die camera hier geeft, dan- = Laurent, if you don't give me the camera right now, then-

Du muss mech als éischt fänken! (Luxembourgish) = youre gonna have to catch me first!

Stroopwafels are a Dutch delicacy, I love them so much. Basically, they’re waffles with syrup in between. Google them for examples and probably a better explanation.

I am physically incapable of not adding in a sprinkle of NedCan. I'm sorry (but actually not really,, as stated, Willem and Matthew are married so technically Matthew is family- *gets smacked*)

The ending is more crack and longer than I intended because I have no self-control. Sue me.

Moral of the story: don't anger short ppl. They’re angrier cuz they’re closer to hell-

Yes Willem is ticklish, I said what I said.

Bonus scene: ''Wait, so if Willem is a worm, would Matthew be like... a moose?''

''I am begging you two to stop. Laurent, stop laughing!''

[mxndoscyarika]

Honeydew (Marcus Pike/Moreno x OC) | Chapter 1

Summary: Erin He moves to DC after working for the FBI in Texas and runs into a hero in disguise; Marcus Moreno. Something about him is familiar, too familiar, yet different in a way that she can’t quite place. Although confused, she can’t deny her feelings for him; perhaps, after years of regret, she finally found the one.

Warnings: food/drink mention

Ao3

Honeydew masterlist

Like my writing? Here’s my masterlist.

Author’s Note: I’m so excited for you all to read this story! Special thanks go to Lynn (@mindless--ramblings​​) for always being so supportive and helping me stay inspired! Ever since I found out Pedro now has two characters named Marcus, I’ve wondered about ways I could connect them in one piece of writing. And this? This is that piece of writing. Moreno won’t be making an appearance in this one, but I hope Pike will make up for that 😉 Enjoy!

Ground floor.

First floor.

Second.

Erin He took a deep breath, thankful that the elevator was empty. She straightened the collar of her shirt as the fourth floor approached. At her side was her government-issued laptop, which she’d picked up from the front desk. Her fingers gripped its edges tightly. This was it. She made it.

The elevator let out a soft ding and opened its doors, revealing a floor of cubicles and conference rooms. Austin sunlight filtered through large windows, illuminating the space alongside the bright fluorescent lights.

She stepped out, searching for the art theft department’s main office. As much as she understood the need for technology specialists across all the FBI’s branches, she never quite grasped why she was placed in the art theft department, of all places. She always thought she’d be in the operational technologies department, developing and maintaining tools for others to use. Though she couldn’t blame them; intellectual property was highly valued and often stolen.

The email said to report to the department supervisor’s office for a quick onboarding, but they didn’t exactly mention what it would be. It could’ve been anything from a quick handshake to being told to shadow a coworker. Hopefully the former.

Part of her begged to the gods of computer science that she wouldn’t be assigned to yet another condescending old white man. Her last welcome at a company had been less than mediocre, and lukewarm at best.

The other part of her nagged that she’d signed up for exactly that.

“Ah, there you are. Welcome to your first day, Special Agent He,” the department supervisor–Harold Strauss–greeted as she entered his office. He gestured to the man standing in front of his desk. “This is Agent Marcus Pike. He will be showing you the ropes today.”

Agent Pike looked at her over his shoulder, the corners of his lips curling in a friendly smile. He couldn’t have been much older than her, with his faint smile lines and soft brown hair. He tucked his hands into his pockets and turned around to face her.

“Thank you, sir,” she replied. She shook his hand and then extended her hand to Pike. “Nice to meet you. Thanks for taking time out of your day to show me around.”

“Likewise,” he replied, shaking her hand. His brown eyes sparkled as he proposed, “Should we start? I have a meeting in about half an hour, and I’m sure you’ll want to meet some of our operational techs and digital forensics team. They’re the backbone of everything we do here.”

They acknowledged their supervisor once more and then left to begin the tour.

As her personal guide gave her the rundown of the floor’s organization and workflow, Erin couldn’t help but sneak a couple more glances at him.

He was taller than her by a few inches, but not in such a way that she felt like shrinking into herself. And he always stayed at her side, never walking ahead or lagging behind. His strong jaw led her gaze to a pair of soft lips, which seemed to be in a perpetual smile as he talked about the breakthroughs the department had in the past days.

“Do you know where your desk is?” Pike asked.

“Yeah, they told me the other day,” she answered, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ears. They walked over to her assigned desk, which was barren save for a standard computer, box of pens, and notepad. “If you’re going to ask if I need help with setup, I think I should be alright for now. Nothing a few installations and linux commands can’t fix.”

He chuckled softly and nodded. “You’re living up to your title, Agent He. If I’m being honest, I don’t think I could’ve been much help even if I offered. Have you done work similar to this before?”

She shrugged. “I worked in cybersecurity and software development,” Erin replied, setting down her bag and laptop on her desk. Slipping off her black blazer, she continued, “But I figured I should do something more than just build products for tech companies. Use my skills to aid in investigations.”

He nodded in understanding. “I see what you mean. Actually, I was originally studying to be an art history professor. But then I found this job and figured I could use my knowledge to help find and preserve artworks.”

Hm, noble.

“Sounds like we aren’t so different,” she observed, following him across the officespace. “Let’s hope that I can be of help around here.”

He chuckled softly, the dimple in his cheek showing as he smiled. “I think you’ll fit right in.”

---

The words on the screen blurred into the white background of the screen, as if they were mocking her. Each line of test slowly lost its meaning, turning into mind-numbing strings.

Erin pushed her computer away and rubbed her eyes defeatedly, sighing. The department was launching an investigation regarding a museum that was broken into and wiped clean. What little data was left on the computers, from what she gathered after hours of poring over them, was largely useless. Hopefully, one of the other agents would find something helpful in the other remnants. Perhaps an address, or some sort of signature that could be traced to a group. Her, on the other hand? She just wasted hours of work.

A steaming cup of coffee was set down onto her desk, along with some sugar and tiny cups of cream.

She looked up to find Marcus–Pike, she reminded herself–standing at her side, looking down at her with a soft smile. “Find anything?”

“Nope,” she sighed. It turned out that Pike was one of the best agents in the department, and that meant he spent most of his time leading and organizing investigations. What that meant for Erin, then, was that she had to answer to him. Thankfully, he was never weird about it. Quite the opposite, actually. Tapping the side of the cup, she asked, “Is this for me?”

He laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah! Sorry; I would’ve fixed it, but I wasn’t sure how you liked your coffee.”

“Well it’s nothing complex, if that’s what you’re nervous about,” she teased. Two sugars and a drizzle of cream turned the pitch black liquid into a deep brown. She took a sip, the placebo of caffeine already kicking in. “When you’re in STEM, you learn to appreciate caffeine in any form. But I like it like this.”

“Noted,” he said, his voice a soft timbre amongst the flutter of papers and clacking of keys. Hands resting on his hips he asked, “How long do you think it’ll be before you find anything?”

“Anywhere from an hour to another three...or five,” she sighed, lazily scrolling down the file. Basking in the steam from her cup, she continued, “I’m gonna need a lot more of this coffee. There has to be something useful in this file, I just need to find it. I might need to cross-reference with some of the other evidence to notice anything.”

A headache was already descending upon her, and she was only six hours in. Weak–she’d stared at a computer much longer without any problem many times before. Why, of all times, did it have to happen when she was talking to her coworker?

“Well, I’ll be here pretty late tonight, so if you need anything, just let me know,” he replied, patting her shoulder. The crease between his brows deepened as he squinted down at the screen. “Maybe you need a fresh set of eyes on it. Take a break, Erin.” At her responding pout, he reasoned, “It’s been almost a month and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you rest.”

Of course he noticed her breaks, or lack thereof. She rolled her eyes, hiding a bashful smile in her cup. “I work best in sprints.”

He hummed amusedly. “But even sprinters need breaks, don’t they?” Then, his eyes lit up. “Actually, why don’t you take a break now?”

Erin raised a brow. “Am I not taking a break right now?”

His laugh was warm. “I mean a real break. Let’s get lunch; my treat.”

“Are you really going to make me choose between food and digital forensics, Agent Pike?”

Nodding definitively, he replied, “Yes, Agent He.”

Unable to resist the prospect of free lunch, she gave in and followed him out to his car. The work would still be there when she returned. For the moment, she could just enjoy Marcus’s companionship.

He drove out to a local diner about ten minutes away, his turns confident as if he’d gone there hundreds of times before. Judging by the way his eyes had sparked with joy at her agreement, he probably had.

They let their shoulders relax in the serenity of the car, shedding the formalities and passing time as if they were close friends.

The diner was small and cozy, booths worn with age and serving breakfast all day. Erin’s lips curled up in a little smile as the hostess recognized Marcus. So he was a regular, after all.

They sat down across from each other in a booth. Erin shrugged off her navy blue blazer and smoothed her dark hair back into a thick ponytail.

As she fixed her hair, Marcus gave her his recommendations, leaning in with the menu so she could follow along with her eyes. He seemed particularly fond of the pancakes, so she decided on those. Surely he wouldn’t lead her astray.

And with the way his voice rasped just slightly, she could listen to him speak for a whole day.

“Honey? Did you hear anything I said?” he asked, tilting his head slightly with a little smirk.

Erin snapped out of her reverie, cheeks burning. “Oh, um. Yeah. Sorry, I spaced out for a bit.”

“No worries, it happens to all of us,” he reassured, laying the menu flat on the table. “What were you thinking about?”

Less than an hour had passed before they were back in the office, stepping out of the elevator with full bellies. The familiar clicking from computers and buzz of conversations filled the air, and they were officially agents again.

Erin turned to him and nudged his arm. “Hey, thanks for the break.”

“Anytime,” he replied, walking with her along the perimeter of the room. They stopped at the hallway leading to the conference rooms and offices. His large hand moved to rest on her arm, his thumb rubbing gently. “I guess this is my stop. You know where to find me.”

“And you know where I’ll be.”

The next day, Marcus was greeted in his office by tupperwares containing homemade fried rice, some cut up fruit, and a sticky note.

Thanks for sticking with me yesterday. -E

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he tried to refrain from grinning like a maniac, though he was sure anyone who happened to pass by would’ve thought he looked like a schoolgirl with a crush. Erin’s handwriting was soft and curved, so similar to calligraphy but simple in a way that made the note feel that much more intimate.

She had an interesting way of showing her care for others, he found. Perhaps it was a byproduct of the work she dedicated her life to; she seemed to always be one step ahead, ready to pull out small details that others would dismiss. He wondered what she might know of him.

There were a few things she clearly knew; things that surprised him every day. Just as he’d learned her usual coffee order, she’d learned his. When he’d walk in every morning, her head of dark hair would tilt to peek over her cubicle, as if she could sense his presence. And when their eyes would meet, her smile was better than the best espresso in the world.

Marcus shook his head to himself as his heart fluttered. Years of failed relationships and a divorce later, he still couldn’t keep his feelings in check. His mother always said he had a soft heart, one that would be his greatest strength and his greatest weakness. But Erin was anything but a weakness.

She wasn’t a weakness, but a strength. A constant in his life, making each day feel just a little more special. He didn’t need a relationship to be happy, but….he wouldn’t be opposed to one either.

Yet, as he spotted Ian Malarkey standing a bit too close to her, he forced himself to backtrack. What if she didn’t want him? What if they were meant to be just as they were: just friends?

Maybe it was time for him to move on.

After a few months, their friendship had grown well past a workplace acquaintance. It wasn’t as if she was trying to get attached to him; it just...happened. And it was only a little surprising to her; she tried to stay as professional as she could in the office, but outside? Outside, she could just be Erin, not FBI Special Agent He. Outside, she could shed her jacket and swap the button-down shirt for a ribbed sweater and some jeans. Outside, she and Marcus could sit as close together as they wanted without drawing unwanted attention.

She knew it was silly to fantasize. After all, Marcus was a coworker, if not a superior. And with the way he fussed over her water intake and made sure that she wore her glasses at the right times, he could easily see her as a little sister. As nothing more than a new agent who happened to be friendly.

But if that were true, why would he go through the effort of bringing her lunch on Thursdays? Why did he call her little names like “honeydew” and “sweetheart,” and why did it feel so natural coming from his mouth?

The commotion coming from the direction of the conference rooms told her that the team was back from the investigation. Maybe Marcus was there; she knew he’d gone, but he hadn’t texted since morning. It wouldn’t hurt to pop in to check on him; he did that often enough with her.

When she entered the break room, her heart sank. Sitting off to the side, by the wall, was Marcus asking Teresa Lisbon out on a date. She wasn’t sure why she felt defeated;  it wasn’t like she had any plans on asking him out.

But then why did it hurt her to the core to see him giving those puppy eyes and little smiles to Lisbon? The woman didn’t even look interested in him; if anything, she looked confused and hesitant.

Ian caught her eye as she surveyed the room once more, his lips pulling into a tight-lipped smile. He knew about her feelings for Marcus, having spent hours going over evidence and making small talk. In fact, he’d even encouraged her to tell Marcus her feelings, out of fear that she might never get the chance.

Perhaps her chance had passed after all. Turning on her heel, Erin decided that, for once, it was time to go home. Marcus would come to her when he was less busy.

The thing was, though, she didn’t want to go home. She wanted to go over and say hello, and check to make sure he wasn’t injured in the scuffle. Moreover, she didn’t want to be a fill-in for Lisbon’s absence. She didn’t want to be his second choice. And she knew it wasn’t her fault, nor Lisbon’s, that Marcus didn’t choose her. But it still stung.

She watched as their shared lunches became less frequent, the senior agent replacing her space by Marcus’s side. When the elevator would ding at 7AM and she’d glance up to see if it was him, she found him searching the room for Lisbon. They never drifted over to her desk. That fact always made her grip her pen just a little tighter.

On the days when he did grace her with his presence, she felt like a tornado of emotions.

Happy, because she had missed her best friend.

Sad, because she knew the next time she’d spend time with him was in a few weeks rather than a few days.

Grateful, because she knew how hard it was to socialize after a work week of at least 50 hours.

Envious, because of the stories he told.

Relieved, because he still cared.

Plastering a halfhearted smile on her face, Erin listened to Marcus practically worship his girlfriend. His summer breeze of a smile and sparkling eyes made the pain that came with listening worth it. The only other time she’d heard him talk that passionately was when they’d visited an art museum.

At least one of them was happy.

She thought of trying to date again; it had been over a year since she’d been in a relationship. But she couldn’t do it. More than once, she’d put on some simple makeup and casual clothes, ready to head out to the bar, but no. She couldn’t bring herself to leave the apartment. The apartment was where she and Marcus watched movies, where she would cut up fruit and bring them to him on a plate while he pored over reports in the warm lights of the kitchen. It was where he’d navigate her cupboards and fridge to make her a mug of his special hot chocolate. It was her safe space, the one place in her life where she could just be Erin, and he could just be Marcus.

The knife cleaved the melon in half with ease, revealing its pale green interior.

Marcus leaned up against the counter next to her, hair tousled and necktie loosened against his chest. He absentmindedly started rolling up his sleeves, undoing the cuffs of his shirt and folding them up.

She tried not to stare too long at the way his forearms tensed with the movement.

He broke the silence first. “I got the job in DC,” he said, voice soft like velvet.

“That’s great.” A simple response, though Erin cringed internally. Was that any way to react to her best friend’s job promotion? Surely not, but a part of her–a selfish part of her–knew that it meant he was leaving. Leaving not just his position, but her. Texas. The apartment.

It would’ve been disingenuous for her to say anything more.

Then, he added, almost sheepishly, “I also asked Teresa to marry me. And move to DC so we can be together.”

The blade of her knife hit the cutting board a little harder than normal. “Oh. That’s nice.” Cutting away the tough outer skin, she forced herself to ask, “What did she say?”

He sighed and crossed his arms, biting his lip as if to contain a smile. “She said she’d think about it. But I think she’ll come around. I kind of, uh, sprung it onto her the other night.”

And yet there he was, standing next to a woman who would’ve been ready to say yes. But even so, she said, “I’m sure things will work out between you two. You’ve already given so much to your relationship; it would be a shame for her to not see how great you are.”

She slid him a bowl of perfectly cubed melon.

Smiling softly, he took the bowl into his hands. “You’re the best, honeydew.”

The best, but not the one.

“You’re just trying to get on my good side before you leave for DC, brown eyes,” she jested, nudging him with her elbow. Her chest filled with warmth at his laugh. She tried her best to hang onto that feeling, to that sound. “When are you two leaving?”

“I’m already about halfway packed,” he mused, chewing on a cube of honeydew thoughtfully. “So maybe within the week? I hope that’s enough time for Teresa to make a decision.”

There was less time than she thought. She hummed softly. “Are you sure that’s what she wants? That it’s what you want?”

He nodded confidently. “Yes, I...I know that I don’t have the best track record with relationships, but something about her feels right.” The bowl was set into the sink and filled with water. “I’m happy, honey. You don’t have to worry.”

Erin’s eyes burned as she quietly replied, “Okay.”

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[murdereraisuha]

Final Chapter 5 Reflection

This will have my personal opinion/thoughts on:

The VDC outcome, Rook’s actions, and what could’ve made it better

The Rook reveal and Neige

Kalim, Jamil, and Epel’s development

The Grim scene

Total word count: 2134 words

--- 1 ---

So, RSA won the VDC. My feelings on this are mixed.

Looking at it in relation to the whole plot of TWST, it makes sense. It moves the chance for NRC to finally beat RSA to the upcoming magift tournament, which gives NRC’s potential victory a large amount of excitement/importance which it wouldn’t get from this middle of the year championship.

Furthermore, Rook’s actions do make sense based on his personality. If Vil really didn’t believe that he himself was beautiful, Rook of course would vote for the team that exhibited pure joy in their performance and therefore exhibited a heartfelt beauty. It would be a lie to vote for NRC, and it would disgrace both Rook and Vil. Rook’s actions plot wise also lead to the discussion about Vil valuing himself vs seeking value from others, which I think is a crucial thing for Vil to remember. While trying to gain recognition for hard work is good, and Vil certainly does deserve recognition, it’s much more important to maintain a good perception of yourself even when things happen or people wrongfully say things that might tear down your self-esteem

However, I still have issues with how this played out in relation to the plot of chapter 5. It’s unrealistic for all of Vil’s misgivings about himself to get fixed through the power of friendship and beating each other up. But, still, the team went through a lot in order to get to the championship united and ready to perform. It feels like a slap in the face for them to lose after all that. Especially the scene with Kalim and Epel crying while Ya Hoo cheerfully plays in the background, it's so comically dissonant. Though we already got an explanation from Vil about how Neige’s performance appeals to viewers, I was still shocked. At least it was a close competition rather than a crushing defeat. 

Also, while Rook’s message was sound, the timing was rather bad. Vil and the rest of the team just had a massive battle and then went through a whole song & dance performance without major blunders while still injured. Focusing on Vil’s self-esteem there makes it seem like Rook is just brushing all that determination and effort away. Though Vil doesn’t seem to truly hold it against Rook since he offers the handkerchief back to Rook when he cries, the situation still feels off.

In conclusion, I think that the plot events made sense. However, the execution of them could have been improved. As is, it’s hard to understand Rook’s motivations in this part due to the ridiculousness of RSA’s kid’s song winning. To fix that without just completely overhauling the plot, I believe that the admirable qualities of Neige and the dwarves should have been shown more clearly. For example, while the Pomefiore CM shows a glimpse of their bond, that’s nonexistent in the game. I think that incorporating that into the game (ex. a short scene of Neige reassuring the dwarves that their performance will go well before they step on stage) would help people understand Rook’s point of view better by showing instead of just telling us about the belief Neige has in his friends.. 

Moreover, alongside better reasons for why Rook choose RSA, I think it should be clearer why he did not choose NRC. It seems an attempt at warning of the “betrayal” was done with Vil menacingly saying he’ll win the VDC during the voting, followed by the shot of Rook just going “........”.  To make this less sudden, I think I would change episode 66. Though that episode has Vil saying that he’s ugly, because the team contradicts him and keeps him as the leader it makes it seem like the problem is solved there. Therefore, to better lead to Rook’s speech, I would change episode 66 to have Vil show more hesitation and signs that he still doesn’t believe in himself. 

--- 2 ---

Anyway, on to the reveal about Rook. I wasn’t sure what to think about the name slip up during the previous part, but I just guessed that maybe they’d met before and that meeting is related to RSA and Rook having light magic. Nope, we get Neige simp Rook. I think this reveal was really surprising, but more in a funny way than a “ruins Rook’s character” way. It’s nice to see Rook seriously caught off guard by Neige just nonchalantly exposing him in front of everyone, and everyone’s reactions were extremely funny.

I think that the chapter did a decent job of making it clear that Rook’s relationship with Neige as a fan of him is vastly different from Rook’s calm admiration of and friendship with Vil. I’m kind of curious now about how and when Rook became a fan though. Him being the 2nd member of the fan club implies that Rook found Neige when Neige still hadn’t gotten much fame yet. 

I loved everyone’s Ya Hoo too. Ace and Jamil having level 0 enthusiam, Kalim and Rook having level 1000 enthusiasm, Deuce being startled but slowly getting into it but still being kind of eh, Epel just keeping that wide-eyed confused expression the whole time. ボーテ、１００点. For Vil, I understand that he was probably faking his big smile for the benefit of the audience. However, I still hope his opinion of Neige has improved somewhat or will improve. Neige telling Vil that he’s still number one in the eyes of the people who voted for him was really sweet and their interactions with each other are pretty cute/funny when Vil isn’t trying to murder him.

Unlike other minor characters like Chenya and Farena who either weren’t involved in the plot or were only involved as backstory, Neige is Vil’s present rival and motivation for doing the stuff he does and over blotting. With such a large presence that continued all throughout the chapter and the Rook reveal, it would seem strange for Neige to suddenly drop out of existence come chapter 6.

Therefore, assuming that the Grim situation doesn’t derail the current patterns we’ve seen in the story, I think that Neige will be included as part of the Pomefiore involvement in chapter 6. Of course, it could be something small like getting called in for a favor near the end or just mentions of Rook continuing to write him fan letters. However, I’m hoping it’s something larger. From my analysis of the previous part:

Vil’s team’s performance had a lot of cohesion and rehearsal put into it, but it was very competitive focused. On the other hand, Neige and the dwarves obviously had a lot of fun with their performance. However, it was clumsy and they were ill prepared. Therefore, Vil could teach Neige more discipline and planning while Neige could teach Vil about how to not lose sight of finding joy in your work. 

Now that we have confirmation that Neige is a genuinely nice guy, I really want Vil & Neige friendship to happen, or for them to at least be on good terms with each other. It might just be my personal love for relationships where one person tries to be all rival-y but then the other is like “nope, I’m going to friend you whether you like it or not,” but I think this sort of development in the story of TWST would be really enjoyable to watch.

--- 3 ---

For the performance of Absolutely Beautiful, I love that Jamil got to be in the center for a bit. However, that also just makes me more disappointed that we didn’t get more Scarabia or anything about how their families are watching this. With the stuff in 5-30 and 5-34 focusing on Kalim’s perspective on things and his relationship with Jamil, I thought that at some point we would get a final scene focusing on them and how they’ve developed since chapter 4. What we got with  Jamil swooping in to the rescue with the magic carpet then talking about how he could sense that Kalim was about to do something stupid was better than nothing, but idk. I just love the writing and complexity these two have gotten and I wanted that to continue to the end. I still have hope though! If we can get a thing about Leona noticing the traces of magic in the arena, then we can get future appearances from the Scarabia boys too!... please...

Now, for Epel, I also have mixed feelings about his development throughout the chapter. I absolutely loved the beach scene with Deuce and Epel, it was so cute and I liked Epel realizing the power of beauty because of the apple juice Magicam post. However, I think the narrative missed something important. Though Epel’s views had a lot of improvement to be made, Vil’s treatment of him was also terrible and should have been addressed. I believe Vil saying that “throwing a tantrum and taking it out on others was terrible of him” in episode 66 implies that he’s realized that all his actions, not just the overblot, were wrong. However, it’s not clear enough that that was the intention. Vil does not apologize specifically for how he attempted to force Epel to conform to his own beliefs. Though there’s always chapter 6, it still doesn’t seem like the story will ever really address this issue, which is a shame to say the least.

Furthermore, in this final part, Epel offering to take the center position was really good and showed how much he’s grown since the beginning of the chapter. However, it still didn’t bring the whole “poison apple” thing to fruition. Absolutely no one made any comment on his cuteness or how it might rival Neige’s cuteness. Did they plan something with that but scraped it? Like, this is way too little pay off for such a focus on Vil shaping Epel into a way to best Neige. My disappointment with this ending might have to do with these past 3 main story updates being the only ones I’ve been in this fandom for, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Whatever the cause of my disappointment may be, my disappointment still does exist.

--- 4 ---

To top off this roller coaster of a chapter and end this reflection with a more neutral analysis, we have the stuff with Mickey and Grim. Mickey seems really nice, I’m glad that Yuu seems to have made an ally in him. We certainly need one after whatever the hell just happened with Grim. I really have to give props for how unsettling both Grim’s appearance and the sounds during that scene were.

Though we’re obviously getting close to the endgame, the Ignihyde sneak peak that we got seems pretty normal and related to their personal problems rather than the plot. Though it would be interesting for a big change to happen like Yuu being out of commission for the chapter, I think it’s more likely that Yuu will be rescued, Grim just goes missing, then we don’t get much more info on that whole thing until the end of chapter 6 leading into chapter 7.

Anyway, for the scene itself I understand if it just because silent protagonist, don’t want to make them talk/do too much, but it feels kind of weird that there wasn’t really any indication of a struggle? Just standing there, staring at Grim, getting clawed, then black out. Nothing to indicate trying to step back. There was some weird clopping??? sound after he attacked but since the camera didn’t move that wasn’t Yuu collapsing.

Also, it might just be supposed to be “Grim’s laugh but creepy,” but his ケヒッ、 ケヒヒッ laughter sounds unusually distinctive? Idk, I just had the thought that it could be in reference to some other disney character with a similar laugh but idk who that would be since I’m not big into disney movies.

Right before he attacks, Grim also shouts “this is my stone!!!” Firstly, assuming that this stone is the same small size as the others, shouldn’t he already be done eating it? Yuu’s not exactly gonna stick their hand down his throat to retrieve it. So what stone is he talking about?

Well, we know that the magic crystal on the magic pens is supposed to collect blot so that it doesn’t built up inside someone, right? Blot accumulated from outright eating it instead of blot accumulated from casting magic is probably different, but what if some of the blot from the black stones did get gathered up by Grim’s crystal on his collar? We know how crazed he has been getting about the black stones. Is it so much of a stretch to think that he might be trying for more? That he might be trying to create instead of just find? 

How would a black magic crystal taste?

[five-rivers]

Secret saturdays prompt

The secret scientists and/or argost finding out Zaks s1 finale secret. The show did a 6 month time skip and never showed us /how/ they came to find out.

Zak got sick when they came back from Antarctica.  It wasn’t something particularly foreign to him.  Traveling all over the world meant that he picked up a lot of bugs.  It was an occupational hazard.  Or, well, not occupational, exactly, because Zak didn’t get paid for what he did, but...  

Yeah.

(Maybe he should get paid for this.  He did a lot of work, if he was being honest.)

Usually, though, nothing he got was this bad.  Mom theorized it was because he overused his powers.  Dad thought it was just the stress and the shock- Both things that could impact an immune system.  Doyle kept making jokes about bottled water, because, yeah, that was the problem.  

Not.  

A cold was something he could deal with, though.  A nice distraction, even, from having to figure out the implications of the Kur artifact lighting up when pointed at him.  

(Maybe, he hoped, Kur was an inherited title, and when he defeated Kur-controlled-by-Argost, it jumped to him.)

(Maybe it was just broken.  It wasn’t like Doyle was all that spiritual.)

(Maybe it lit up whenever it was near someone with Kur-like powers.)

(Maybe Kur was living in the back of Zak’s mind and any minute now-)

(Maybe...  Maybe Zak was Kur.)

Except, the universe had abruptly decided to hate Zak, because the illness was also screwing with his powers.  Every so often, they’d just turn on out of nowhere, not even doing anything, and it would hurt.  Like in the ice caves with Doyle, when he was flooded with more spiritual energy than his body could safely handle.  Like when he overused his powers in Antarctica.

It really wasn’t conducive to the whole ‘ignoring it’ thing he was going for.  

Mom opened the door to his room, and he groaned as the light hit his eyes.  “Hey,” she said, maneuvering around the door with a tray in her hands, “how are you feeling?”

“Bad,” said Zak.  

Mom put the tray on the table next to his bed and took his temperature.  “Still high,” she said.  “Do you feel up to eating?  I have soup.”

“Okay,” said Zak.  He sighed and rubbed his eyes and frowned at the gold reflecting off of them.  He squeezed his eyes shut, willing his powers off.  With another groan, he forced himself into a sitting position.  “I’ve been having weird dreams,” he said, taking the spoon.  It felt heavy.  

“Oh?  Like what?”

“Like...  There’s something moving around outside, in the woods, and I think it’s Fisk, but Fisk and Zon are with me.”  He poked the soup, breaking the thin skin that had formed on top of it.  “You’d think I’d be having dreams about that but...  I don’t know.  It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” said Mom, ruffling his hair.  “You should probably take a shower next time you get up.  You’re all sweaty.”

“Okay,” said Zak.  

.

“I’m worried,” said Drew.  “I think there’s something supernatural about this illness.”

Doc looked up from the culture they’d taken of Zak’s throat swab.  “Really?” he said.  “You don’t think it was a pathogen he encountered when he went into the Antarctica cryptid to fight Argost?”  

Both parents shuddered.  They could still hardly believe they’d let Zak do that, even if the fate of the world was in the balance. 

“He’s dreaming about the prowler,” said Drew, before reciting what Zak told her.  

“That could be a coincidence,” protested Doc.  

“You know,” said Doyle, entering the room with a bag of chips and his hair plastered to his forehead with mud, “after all this, I’m not sure I believe in coincidences anymore.”

“No food in the lab!” shouted Doc, pointing an accusing finger at Doyle.  

“Jeez, dude, lighten up.  What’s the worse that could happen?”

“You could ingest a deadly chemical,” said Drew.  

“Oh,” said Doyle.  “Yeah, I guess that would be bad.”

“Did you find the prowler?” asked Drew.  

“Nope,” said Doyle.  “Not hide nor hair, even with Jurassic overhead.  But what I did find...”  He made a face.  “You know the river?”

“Yes, Doyle,” said Doc, “we are in fact aware of the river we live next to.”

“Yeah, cool.  All the fish are dead.”

“What?” asked Drew, raising her eyebrows.  

“Dead,” said Doyle.  “Belly-up.  A lot of the plants near the water aren’t doing so great, either.  I’d stock up on bottled water if I were you guys.”  He took a sip from his own bottle of water, as if to prove a point.  “Now, what were talking about when I came in?  Do you think this prowler has something to do with the little guy being sick?”

“Yes,” said Drew.  

“Maybe,” said Doc.  

They looked at each other.  

“I think we need more help,” said Drew.  “He’s not getting better.”

“Grimes and Lawhorn?”

“They do specialize in paramedicine.  They’re even working on a cure for everything.  Unless you think this is neurological, in which case we should call Dr. Bara again.”

Doc made a face.  “Not after what happened last time.”  More than half of the house was still in ruins.  

“Hm, I don’t think Grimes and Lawhorn will be that happy to see us, either,” said Drew.  

“They weren’t hurt that badly,” protested Doc.  “Arthur just likes to exaggerate.  They aren’t even O-positive!”

“Even so,” said Drew.  “But, yes, I think we should contact them.”

.

Zak stirred as Fisk picked him up.  “What’s goin’ on?” he asked, sleepily. 

“Hrry nn thhn yueeep.”

“It’s fine.”  Zak sat up a little so he could rest his head on Fisk’s collarbone.  “Where are we going?”

Fisk answered, and Zak nodded sagely.  

“I’m really sick, huh?”  He closed his eyes and let himself go to sleep again.  

.

“Miranda, Arthur, we didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Well,” said Arthur, “after that whole think with skunk-stripe’s mirror-world double, they’re kind of on edge when it comes to tall stuff, here.”  He nodded at Fisk.  “They asked us to monitor.”

“We also wanted to discuss what happened in Antarctica,” said Miranda.  “Your report felt... incomplete.”

“Right,” said Doc.  At least they’d ironed out a cover story before coming.  “We’d like to take care of our son, first, though.”

“Of course,” said Miranda.  “We’re in no hurry.”

.

“Hey, there, buddy, how are you feeling?”

“Dr. Grimes?”

“Yep, that’s me.”

Zak blinked slowly.  “Better.”

“Good!” said Grimes.  “We weren’t sure if that would do anything, but there we have it.  Seems like you picked something up from Kur after all.”  They spun in their chair and didn’t notice how Zak cringed at the name.  “Had to give you an Ancient Sumerian protective amulet.  Not easy to get those right!”

“Oh,” said Zak, who had been wondering about the thing tied around his wrist.  “Cool.  Where are Mom and Dad?”

“Talking to Miranda and Arthur.”

“Oh,” repeated Zak.  “Why’re they here?”

“They wanted to talk about Kur,” said Grimes.  “I heard you beat it and Argost both!  That’s impressive.”

“Thanks,” said Zak, fiddling with the amulet.  A spike of pain went through his head, and with it came a sense of movement, images of a forest, the outside of Lawhorn and Grimes’s home.  

... What?

“Hey, Zak, are you okay?” asked Grimes.  They said something else, but Zak didn’t hear him.  

“Something’s coming,” said Zak.  

Grimes rolled their chair to the door and pulled it open.  “Saturdays!  You kid is being ominous!”

.

Arthur frowned as he watched Doc and Drew leave the room.  He wasn’t good at reading people, but-

“They’re hiding something,” said Miranda.  

“I think you’re right, buns,” said Arthur.  

Miranda rolled her eyes.  “I can understand you not remembering my name, Arthur,” she said.  “But if you call me that again, I’m going to hit you.  With something heavy.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get your circuit boards in a twist.  What do you think they’re hiding, though?  Why hide anything?  Like, they told us the parts they screwed up on, letting Argost getting away and all.  What could possibly be worse than that?”

Miranda frowned and rubbed her lower lip.  “They aren’t the type to lie to make themselves look good, Arthur.  There’s something else.  The timing of Zak’s illness...  They would lie to protect each other, to protect their children.”

“What, do you think short stuff was poisoned by Argost or something?  Not that it’d be out of character.”  

The idea that Argost got away with Kur, or at least that he had the Saturday’s under his control...  That was scary.  But it had to be the second one.  Argost was patient, but not that patient.  There would be wide-scale destruction.  

If he was threatening the Saturdays into working for him by holding the kid hostage, that was bad enough.  Even if it probably felt like a consolation prize from Argost’s perspective.  

“No, it wouldn’t,” said Miranda.  “We’ll have to look into it and hope Lawhorn and Grimes can find a solution.”

“We can do more than that!  We can go back to their house and see what they’re giving Argost!”

“Arthur, no.  We don’t even know if that’s what’s happening.  We can’t just break into their house.”

“We can,” Arthur argued, crossing his arms.  “You just don’t want to.”

“These are our friends,” said Miranda.  “I was only giving a possibility.  They might not be hiding anything at all.  They could just be worried about Zak.  I know I am.  Besides, Drew has her mercenary little brother guarding the place.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Arthur, waving his hand, “whatever.  I don’t want the kid hurt, either.  We’ll talk to them again when he’s better, maybe they’ll change their story.”

Arthur was about to elaborate on this when a rotund, three-legged, three-armed creature with far too many eyes tore through the walls.

.

Zak gasped and reached for the Claw.  Which he didn’t have because he was still in his pajamas.  His head pounded.  The talisman wrapped around his wrist burned.  Dad and Mom stepped between him and the monster, and Fisk pulled him away, to the side of the room, out of the line of fire.  

“Who dares to take my prey from me?” growled the creature.  “Who dares to come between me and Kur?”

“Azag,” breathed Zak.  He didn’t know how he knew this cryptid’s name.  He just did.  

“The Sumerian sickness demon?” asked his mother, brandishing her sword.  

“Kur,” said Azag, all of its eyes fixed on Zak, “the flesh you wear now is weak, and I will take great pleasure in watching it fail you, in watching it trap you, oh Kur, great king of the cryptids.”

“Stay away from him,” said Mom.

“Or else,” said Dad.

The monster started laughing.  Then it was hit from behind by one of Arthur’s energy discharge weapons.  It hissed and righted itself.  

“Do you think I fear his mortal servants?  Fools!”  It lunged for Dad.  

“No!” shouted Zak.  His powers flared and the talisman burst into a hundred tiny pieces as he forced himself into Azag’s mind.  

(Too familiar- Had he done this before?)

“Can’t,” he panted, “hold for long.  Hurry!” 

Grimes snatched a bottle from a cabinet, and a syringe from a drawer.  “Just hold it a minute longer, Zak.  If this is what I think it is-”  They didn’t finish the thought as they filled the syringe with the liquid from the bottle.  

Then he plunged the needle into the creature’s stony hide.  It screamed, the sound and pain echoing through the connection Zak had made with it.  His vision went white.  He felt his eyes roll back in his head and his knees go out.  

Nothing more.  

.

“What was that?” asked Miranda, staring at the melted remains of Azag.  

“Disease demon,” said Grimes, giddily.  “Lawhorn and I always theorized- I’m so glad I was able to test it!  The panacea!  I wonder what diseases it represented and how they’ll be affected...”

“Whatever,” said Arthur.  “I’m more interested in what that was.”  He pointed at Zak, who had collapsed and was currently being fussed over by his parents.  “You two have a lot of explaining to do.  And you’re going to start with why that thing was calling him Kur.”

[pa-panda-heroes]

The LoV with a s/o who's easuly Flustered and likes to read books when they're on break from missions? 👉🏻👈🏻 Love your blog! 💞 Have some ice cream for your great writing! 🍧🍨🍦

Aaaa thank you! You are so sweet I’m going to get a cavity 😭 thank you so much, cutie!! I hope you like it

~🐼

LoV with a s/o who’s easily flustered!

Tomura:

At first he would find it strange. Why do you get tinted kinda reddish and quiet when he tries to make eye contact with you? He has to give you details on the mission, dammit!

And why would you read, when you could do something more engaging like playing video games? He doesn’t get it.

But the more he sees you read and the more he sees how you react to certain things, the more he kinda soaks it in. Welp, that’s just how you are. Okay, then.

But why does he like watching you? Why does he enjoy the sight of your lips pursing in concentration or eyebrows furrowing at something he doesn’t know abou while you’ve got a book in your hands? Is he curious?

No, he finds it absolutely adorable. When he realizes that, he’ll do whatever he can to fluster you, so that he can see your eyes dart everywhere but at him and watch you shrink into yourself. Maybe he enjoys watching you toy with a stand of hair, or whatever clothing you’re wearing that minute.

At some point you have to ask yourself if he’s a sadist for it all, because we will tease you if he’s in a good mood, but in reality he just enjoys a reaction from someone that isn’t disgust. You’re so soft as a person and it’s a huge contrast to himself and he fucking loves it.

His favorite thing ever is to rest his cheek on your sternum with an arm under the back of your neck, playing a video game with both hands at your left shoulder. All while you’ve got a book propped atop his back with your arms underneath his own, both your legs and his a mess tangled together. It’s uncomfortable for your both, but it allows you to be so close.

Other times, he’ll often watch over your shoulder and read snippets of your book out of curiosity to see what you like, if he gets the chance. Maybe, just maybe, you can convince him to read the same novel, but what he really wants is for you to read aloud to him.

He wants to hear your voice without interruptions, to hear how the intricate words fall from your lips as you read, even to hear your goofy dialogue impressions. It’s so relaxing and he adores it. He’ll even crack a little smile while you’re doing it.

Your reading to him eventually becomes nearly the only thing that can put him to sleep. His head on your chest, arm wrapped around your waist, and legs kicked out to entangle with yours as he listens to your voice - he’s in heaven!

He’s so happy that someone as adorable and soft as you actually had eyes for someone like him, and he’s more than thankful for it!

Mr. Compress:

Loves it! He finds it so precious that you get so flustered so easily. And while he’d never make you uncomfortable or even try to fluster you on purpose, he’s still going to enjoy it when it happens.

I can definitely see Mr. being a bookworm himself, honestly, his favorite maybe being of a historical or possibly magical nature.

You like horror? Okay. Romance? Cool. Medieval fantasy? Alright. It really doesn’t matter what you enjoy, he’ll ask for recommendations. If you enjoy it, he will certainly enjoy it with you.

Deadass would sit next you and pull out his own book during a break while you’re on a mission. You have to wonder where the hell it came from, but then you remember he’s a magician, after all. And of course, there’s his actual quirk to consider.

Mr would get flustered relatively easily, but for him the perfect time to be flustered is while you’re flustered, too! Strangely enough, he thinks it sorta brings you closer together, kinda like sharing a crépe or ice cream. It’s no different than being happy at the same time, or sad, or even angry. You’re feeling the same thing at the same time, and get to experience and work through it together. How neat is that?

He doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable around him, but he’ll still enjoy it when you get all flustered. He notices all too easily the blood rush to your ears when he reaches in close to pull a coin “out” of your ear, or the slight squeak you make when his gloved fingers accidentally brush against the cartilage of it. Well, sometimes accidentally!

Seeing you get flustered like that will usually fluster him, too. Does he really have such an endearing effect on someone so adorable and shy, as the extroverted and boisterous Mr. Compress?

He’ll constantly ask permission to do something before actually doing it and risking making you uncomfortable. Is he allowed to wrap an arm around you? Are you okay with him touching more than just your ear for a trick? Mr. is determined to get consent first and to make sure if you change your mind, he knows it!

Loves it if you let him read to you. He’s an entertainer, remember? It’s in his gears to put on a show and entertain someone - he doesn’t want to be entertained! His favourite way to read to you is with his back leaning against the wall or headboard if there is one, while you’ve rested the back of your head on his shoulder and sat between his legs.

Himiko:

Himiko is not easily flustered! And while she likes books, they’re not her favorite pastime.

That said, she loves getting you all flustered. She won’t be cruel about it, it’s always in good fun and not regarding anything you could be sensitive about, but it happens really often.

The more flustered she gets you, the more flustered she looks as the blood rushes to her cheeks and ears because she’s so happy and you’re so cute!! She’ll grin at you spunkily when she does, but her eyes have a slightly sultry tint to them.

Her favorite way to get you all flustered is by touching you! She’s quite clingy physically, so naturally she’s gonna be all over you! She’ll latch onto and nuzzle your neck like it’s the sole reason she’s breathing - accidentally restricting your own breathing all the while.

She’s not much of a reader herself, but she’s going to ask all kinds of questions about the book she happens to see you reading. What genre is it? What’s the main character like? Does a character die? Is it a happy novel, or a sad one?

If you enjoy it, she’ll want to learn about it just for the sake of hearing you teach her about something you enjoy or are passionate about, despite not indulging in it herself. She wants to know what makes you tick, and sifting through your likes will help her do that.

Himiko will sit next to you and snuggle up against your side while you’re reading on your break - even if you shyly protest. If time permits, she’ll relax and let let the sound of your breathing accompanied with the turning of pages slowly lull her to sleep.

Though if she doesn’t have time, she’ll instead stare at your face, whether it contorts or not at whatever you’re reading. If you notice and blush at her, she won’t stop! She’ll just continue to stare at you.

If you ask to read to her, she’ll accept, sure, but she won’t really pay attention. Her focus is you! Not a story! You’re part of her own story, now, she doesn’t care about anything fictional. She has you.

She’ll instead watch your eyebrows turn up or furrow as your eyes are drifting through the page, lips moving and articulating syllables of your language. She’ll watch every blink of your eyes, enamored by the sparkle in them with one of her own. She’ll always have her head in your lap or on your chest!

Twice:

Not as easily flustered as Mr. Compress, but if someone pushes enough, they can do it!

He’s not big on books, like Toga, but reslly loves having a s/o who is.

Oh, you can read about an imaginary world where society isn’t defined by heroes vs. villains, and quirks don’t exist and someone’s entire life isn’t dictated by what kind of shitshow they won in the quirk genetics lottery? Sounds neat! Tell him about it!

The more different the world of the book you’re indulging in is, the more he’s interested in hearing about it from you! He’ll take in everything you tell him about whatever you’re reading. Most of the time, it gives him a good grasp on what kind of society he really wants.

Of course, his favorite part about your telling him about your books is how excited you get, how enthralled you are in its mysteries if it has any, how you seem to pick it apart and predict (or try to predict) what will happen next!

Of course, if you go on a tangent and realize you’ve done so, becoming flustered as a result, he’ll beam at you to keep going! Or, he’ll go on his own tangent worshipping the ground you walk on, which, naturally, makes you more flustered - and that encourages him.

You’re like the diamond in the rough - so sweet and fragile-seeming - that he can’t help but be drawn to you!

Any sign of embarrassment (the not-so-fun kind) or shift in your mood will get him all riled up and cause him to do whatever he can to fix the situation, if possible. Oftentimes, he makes it worse, but he tries his hardest, really!

Because he wants to watch out for you! You’re so adorable, and even if you’re fully capable of taking care of yourself physically, he’ll 100% be right next to you to step in!

I can’t really see Twice sitting down and letting you read to him or reading on his own (too quiet - a good opportunity for his trauma to strike), but he’ll still love hearing about what you’re reading. Maybe he’ll sit next to you with a cigarette in between his fingers, eyes drifting to the pages as he listens to your voice reading aloud and whatever environmental voices are sounding at the moment.

Dabi:

The bastardest bastard of them all!

A flustered Dabi is a nonexistent Dabi. Nope. It doesn’t matter what you say to him, the man’s made of unflusterable, unflinching steel.

He will do everything in his power to tease you and fluster the living daylights out of you, though. It’ll range from snarky or sultry comments to actually touching - or groping - you in various places. He’ll relish in any cute protest you send his way.

His favorite time to strike is when you’re in casual conversation with any of the other members and your guard is down. You’re smiling and content, not shying out, and having a good time.

Welp, not if Dabi can have a say in it! He’ll give your ass a slap or make a snarky comment insinuating your “neglecting” him and wrap his arms around your waist, nuzzling his nose into your neck and letting his particularly hot breath ghost across your neck. He’ll simper at the bumps that arise on your skin as he feels your muscles tense underneath him.

He’ll do whatever he can to interrupt your reading, not really giving a shit if you’re really enjoying your book or lose your page. His interruptions range from whispering in your ear to yanking the book from your hands and keeping it away from your grasp.

Dabi won’t care to hear about what you’re reading; he’ll usually zone out if you try to immerse him into your favourite pastime or read to him. And he definitely won’t read for you, either.

But nonetheless, he’ll find your habit cute. It’s not watching you that does it for him, or even how giddy you get talking about your stories. It’s the fact that someone dating a dastardly villain like himself, a criminal capable of setting fire to everything around him, so purely enjoys such a common hobby. He’s not common, he knows that. You’re special, he knows that very well. But reading a book? So many people do that. It’s what normal people do.

He loves to watch you cover your cheeks at his suggestive comments, or hop around him to pry your book from his hand. Maybe he’ll set it alight in blue flames to get a good, loud squeal of desperation out of you.

But hell hath no fury like a Dabi whose s/o was teased or flustered by anyone but him.

If you’re reading at home, away from the others, you can bet he’ll drop his head in your lap. It’s nothing sweet and loving, he needs a pillow to nap on! But if you try to get him to move, he’ll grumble and turn on his side, staying put.

Spinner:

Hands down the easiest of them all to get flustered. So yeah, he understands your pain!

Spinner won’t really go out of his way to make you all flustered and set you off, because he knows sometimes that can be embarrassing and not fun if someone goes too far, but that doesn’t mean he dislikes seeing you flustered!

Seeing you blink rapidly and sputter out syllables meant to be a string of words you haven’t found yet is absolutely adorable to him. You’re such a contrast to everyone else, so innocent and pure. After all, there’s a girl who drinks blood for her quirk and a habitual arsonist who’s nothing but sarcasm and insults. Needless to say, Spinner is glad to have you around!

When someone decides they want to make your life hell, he’ll usually step between you and the other party with a scowl and hands on his hips, as if to protect you. Well, yeah. Of course he’s gonna look out for you! Aside from keeping you safe, he wants to look tough for you and impress you.

Like Tomura, he’s more of a video game guy, but if you’re into any kind of fantasy or any genre gaming-esque, he’ll absolutely want to hear about it! If it’s anything romantic, it’ll just fluster him. Although, if it’s horror, he’d definitely be interested

While you’re reading on break, he’ll sit next to you with a portable gaming system and click away at the buttons, occasionally glancing over at you. He can be curious without being interested... right? He might even try to get a peek at what you’re reading for himself, but Spinner won’t admit it. He’ll blow air from his nose and turn away with a scrunched face if you notice!

Spinner would get way too flustered and embarassed to read to you, but would absolutely let you read to him if you so felt like it. He might space out thinking of various things, though.

100% wants to have you in his arms while your eyes are plastered to your book. Bonus points if he gets to play video games like that, Spinner holding the controller behind your book, your back flush against his chest.

You probably couldn’t get him to read anything you suggest to him outright. You’d have to bribe him. He’ll read your book if you play his video game! If you enjoy video games, it will eventually become a habit for you both to cycle between playing video games and reading books.

And he’s not complaining! Most of his time will still be spent on video games, though. But sharing interests is how you get closer, right?

[nautiscarader]

So, here’s a new one: an artist blocked me on twitter mid-commission. 

I’ve never really had any “horror” stories in this regard, mostly because, a) I am quite patient and lenient, and b) well, I am the client, and those can be usually told from the perspective of the artist. This is why so many artists gravitate towards paying upfront. I’ve had some miscommunication issues, but nothing that hasn’t been smoothed out

Until now.

So, I commissioned a ns//fw piece, I told the artist the details, and he sent me a sketch, it was great, I mentioned another thing to correct, he sent me a second one... and that second one made me kinda furious.

Whenever I write fanfics, or commission pieces, I always, always make sure to mention that the scene is consensual, this is a big and important thing for me. 

For some reason, the artist, apart from fixing the thing I mentioned, changed the characters’ expression which could imply that the situation depicted was not up to their liking. They were almost spot-on on the first sketch, I definitely mentioned I want the characters to be happy, and yet, he just .... ditched that.  

He said that he was going to correct it. At that point, it was like 3 AM, I replied with a slightly more polite message, and then an hour later wrote and even longer comment where I apologised for sounding so angry, though I still stressed that he did something I definitely didn’t want. 

When I woke up next morning, I found that he blocked me. 

Why? Because Kool-Aid Man is red. He left no reason, no final message or anything. 

Which, of course is in his right, just like it is in his right to buy a cake and throw it in the thrash. He can do it. It’s a stupid thing, but he can do it. 

And you may say “oh no, you got scammed”. Well... no. Because he blocked me before I paid. So...technically I got the better of him, that sketch is pretty damn good, and I honestly wanted to commission like five-or-six part series.

But nope.

This is a developing situation, I have a friend, thanks to whom I learned of the artist in the first place, and he very graciously agreed to contact him to ask why did he block me, especially after I apologised to him. He doesn’t speak English, relies on translator, and that other friend is from the same country, so maybe this was all a case of Google forking up? Let’s hope.  

[hopeshoodie]

ik you have shane as your perfect islander for lottie so you seemed like the right person to ask about what you think a perfect islander for hannah would be like

Ok hear me out- someone like Genevieve or (to a lesser extent) Priya.

I LOVE the arc I’ve decided is canon of Hannah realizing she is a lesbian throughout the show. It just makes too much sense and I feel like every sapphic girl had a best friend where the relationship was super intense and toxic (but not because we’re gay, no not because we’re gay) and that’s the vibes with Hannah and Lottie. So as much as I ship Lottie and Hannah, they both need to do a lot of growth before they can be healthy and stable together. Ultimately, while it’s one of the best ships in the game, Lottie’s love isn’t the perfect match for Hannah.

 In the canon season I do love the idea of Priya and Hannah- Priya’s much more grounded but still has the high femme glamour that Hannah is into. If Priya was openly bisexual and comfortable with that (which she SHOULD be because she SHOULD have been an LI for MC), I would love the arc of Hannah realizing she’s gay through Lottie and then realizing that her ‘romantic, sensible, and fairytale’ partner can be Priya. Then we could play around with her un-learning compulsory heterosexuality and realizing that everything she was romanticizing about love with a man is possible with women. I hesitate on this because in the game, Priya’s one of the more immature characters (obv. less so than Lottie but definitely more so than Hope or Chelsea) and she can’t really play the grounded voice of reason alongside all of her Lottie/Noah/Felix stuff.

 So I would bring in a character more like Genevieve. Someone who’s really confident, stable, self-sufficient, comfortable in who they are. She’s my favorite character in Season 3 because while she’s really smart and chill, she doesn’t make it her mission to police everyone else or fix other people’s drama (even though there is none in S3). She sits back with her partner (which is a whole other tangent- I love how they’re obviously into each other but don’t make a big show of it in the way that Nope or any other couple in the game did), does her own face paint, is kind to everyone but really only involved with her friends. If s3 had been written better, she would’ve been the competent and kind dark skinned black woman who’s NOT made into the mom friend for once in media.

 But of course the character of Genevieve doesn’t work 100% for Hannah because I get super straight vibes from her (not super-straight, fuck them, but like extra straight, like she is very straight but in a way that includes trans men because they are men). And also? A big part of Viv’s story is that she gets Seb in the end, and they’re a really functional healthy couple who support each other. She wouldn’t get that same support from someone going Thru It like Hannah is.

 So Hannah’s ideal partner is a mix between Priya and Genevieve, and seeing how underutilized Priya is I think we can just repurpose her (but take out a lot of the immaturity and add in Viv’s ambivalence). I’ll leave her name Priya because I’m very much picturing her as Priya.

 Priya comes in on day 1 like normal, late, but (instead of Hannah) Marisol goes home. Maybe there’s some kind of debacle where Gary tries to kiss Marisol and she calls him out, idk we need a reason for Gary to want to pick Hannah over Marisol. Lottie still attacks Priya and Hannah quietly takes Lottie’s side while feeling bad about it the whole time. Lottie and Hannah fall out, Hannah goes to Priya for support, I think I laid out this narrative in another post? Not sure, I’ve been maladaptive daydreaming about it a lot and maybe this is the first time I’m typing it out. At some point (ik Priya misses the truth or dare and with Marisol gone there’s not a character who compulsively needs to talk about their sexuality) it comes out that Priya’s bi, and she doesn’t shy away from or qualify that at all. She’s bi, she’s dated women, and she’s not uncomfortable with doing it again unlike SOME people.

 But Hannah goes to Priya for support on like day 6. Priya recognizes the sexual tension between Lottie and Hannah, but doesn’t point it out because Hannah’s not ready to accept that. Instead she just gives Hannah generic good advice. Roccogate happens to Hannah instead of Lottie, Operation Nope still happens and everyone hates Priya for it (but she handles it far more maturely than she did and comes out of it apologetic but not regretful).  Also because Marisol has to leave to keep Hannah, and we still need a prickly slow-burn lady LI, I’m thinking Lottie fills in that route (or Elisa comes in earlier with Lurik and does Marisol’s whole ‘omg dating a girl, such a big step!’ schtick).

 In CA, instead of Hope and Priya being dejected that they aren’t super into any of the new boys, it’s Hannah. Priya comes to comfort her, and she has a meltdown that ‘there’s so many awesome guys here why can’t I just like one of them’ and is also really salty that Kassam and Lottie are getting on so well. Priya gently tells her ‘maybe the reason you can’t force yourself to like the guys here is because you just don’t like men’. Hannah sputters a bit and Priya points out that she clearly has a crush on Lottie, which Hannah denies. Priya throws up her hands and says “well if you need to talk, I’m here,” to which Hannah initiates a kiss. They make out a bit, then Priya pulls away and says “that was lovely, but I’m not keen on being an experiment. I like you, but you need to know what you want.” And leaves. And Hannah shooketh because ‘oh, THAT’s what kissing is supposed to feel like’, because girlie same. It took me years of kissing men to realize you’re supposed to ~enjoy~ kissing.

 So then my ideal Priya route happens with Priya and MC, but at the recoupling after CA if MC doesn’t save Priya, Hannah does. Priya kind of says “thank you for saving me, you can keep going after to Gary,” and Hannah’s like “No. I want you.” They have a couple of conversations in private, where Priya is like ‘you can’t keep pining over Lottie if we’re going to be together together’ and ‘you gotta stop being sad that I’m not taller than you and that our hands are the same size- that’s compulsory heterosexuality and being upset about it is unfair to me’. And just generally Hannah grows a ton in the span of like 2 weeks, and they’re a really supportive healthy couple?

 Maybe if you’re feeling spicy, Hannah still kisses MC or Lottie before she leaves, and then that comes out at the finale party and Priya breaks up with her. I still think Hannah would have to leave LI and grow a lot before being ready to be in a functional relationship, so even if Priya was her perfect person she’d have to wait for her. I just need Hannah’s girlfriend to look over her glasses at her and be like “babes, this novel is trash. You’re writing about what you wanted LI to be, not what it actually was. No one’s going to read this. You need to find something that matters to you and write about it.” And the thing that matters to her is Priya. A real ‘I’m changing my major to Joan’ kind of moment.

[440mxs-wife]

A Slice of Heaven

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Anthony (OMC) x Reader (former). Other Characters: Charlie, Sam Winchester (mentioned), Kara (OFC)

Word Count: 5880-ish

Warnings: Mentions of Divorce, Jerk Ex, light smut-ish towards the end, mostly fluff though.

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

You awoke to a faint buzzing sound that only grew louder the more you opened your eyes. "Ugh, make it stop," you groaned aloud. You finally realized that it was your alarm clock going off, and that you had pushed the snooze one too many times. If you didn't get up and shower and now, you weren't going to have enough time.

Fortunately, the coffee pot was on a timer, so by the time you came downstairs, it was already finished brewing. You fixed your coffee in your travel cup, grabbed a blueberry muffin off the counter and put it in a resealable bag. You checked to make sure you had everything you needed, put your purse in your messenger bag then zipped it closed. Just before you went out the front door, you lifted your keys out of the bowl sitting on the shelf.

You pulled the door shut behind you, making sure it was locked. As you turned to your left, you noticed that your neighbor was sitting on his front porch, enjoying a cup of coffee. He was reading a magazine, but as soon as he heard your door being closed he looked up. His emerald eyes shifted in your direction and a smile lit his face.

"Good morning!" he called out, raising his coffee cup in salute. The Golden Retriever pup at his feet raised his head, looked side to side, then laid back down on his front paws.

"Oh, hey! Good morning to you, Dean," you replied, returning his salute with your own coffee cup. You then slipped the strap over your head for your messenger bag so that it was stretched diagonally across your body.

As you descended the steps from your porch, you noticed that Dean was doing the same from his. He met you on the sidewalk in front of your houses and took a sip of his coffee.

"So, off to work, I see. By chance, do you have any big plans for the weekend?" Dean asked.

"Sadly, no. I've been invited to go out for drinks with some of the girls from work, but it all depends on how the day goes. Might be too tired for anything other than pizza and a movie," you remarked.

"Well, if you find yourself with nothing to do and you'd like some company, I'm right next door," he offered.

Your eyes brightened at the possibility of spending time with Dean. "I may just take you up on that, Dean," you replied. You looked down at your watch and noted the time. "Oh my goodness, I need to get going so I'm not late for work," you groaned.

"Wait, I still need to get your phone number! You know, so I can text you or....something," he stumbled.

You giggled. "I don't have time right now, but if you want, you can come by where I work. It's that bakery called 'A Slice of Heaven', down on 7th Avenue," you explained.

"I know where that is, maybe I'll have to stop in and see what you have," Dean remarked.

By this time, you had reached the driver's side of your 1968 Chevy Nova. You gave Dean a wave and a smile before getting into the car and driving off to work.

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

Since he saw you move in, Dean has made sure he was waiting on his front porch no later than 7:15 a.m. every day. That's because he knew that you usually left for work no later than 7:25 a.m. Seeing you every morning has become the highlight of his day. Even if it's raining out, he peeks out at you from behind his living room curtains. He feels that his day won't go just right unless he gets at least a glimpse of you.

To him, you're an amazing, beautiful woman who drives a badass car, and someone he'd very much like to get to know better. He'd heard some of the neighborhood gossip, but tried not to pay much attention or put any stock in it.

Rumor Control said that you moved here after your divorce from a rich husband. You were living in a modest home in a small, quiet neighborhood and went to work every day to support yourself. That led Dean to believe that you probably got the short end in the divorce settlement.

A Slice of Heaven. That's what you said your bakery was called, and Dean was starting to develop a serious craving for pie. May have to go check things out over there, he thought with a smirk.

If nothing else, it gave him a chance to get your number and put it into his phone for safekeeping. He had no problem finding any excuse to try and get close to you, get to know you better. Anything for you to give him one of your heart-stopping smiles, like the one you gave him before you drove off this morning. Dean went back inside to shower, then to get ready for the day and his important journey to a certain bakery.

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

"I know, I know, I'm sorry I'm just getting here at the last minute. It is only by the grace of the Traffic Light Gods that I managed to get here in the nick of time. I couldn't help it, I stayed up too late  reading. The story was getting to the good part, and you know how much I love to read," you remarked.

"Oh, it's all right, honey. You're here now, so let's get to work. Throw your apron on and help Kara with getting those pies made and in the oven, would you please?" your boss and best friend, Charlie asked.

"You got it, Chief," you grinned as you tied your apron behind you.

A few hours and so many pie crusts and fillings later, Charlie came back to see you in the kitchen. She said there was a handsome customer out front that wanted to place an order, but specifically asked for you. With a puzzled look on your face, you washed your hands and walked towards the front of the shop.

The man leaning down and checking out the display case suddenly stood up. All at once you were staring into the piercing green eyes of your next-door neighbor.

"Dean, how wonderful to see you again! Is there something I can help you with?" you asked.

"Yes, I believe you can. I think I need one slice of everything in this display case. Everything looks so delicious, I can't possibly be expected to choose. Yep, that's what I want. One slice of everything please," he requested.

You giggled at his request, because no one had ever placed a walk-in order like that before. "We can certainly do that, but it will take time to put it together. If you could come back in an hour or so, we could have it ready for you by then," you suggested.

"Perfect, that way we can have some lunch, and by the time I bring you back, it'll be ready. Right?" he asked.

"I would love to go to lunch with you today, but--" you started, but Charlie interjected.

"She just went on lunch break. Here, give me your apron, and I'll put his order together while you're gone. Goooooo," she insisted. She untied your apron and gave you a gentle push towards Dean's outstretched hand.

"Wait, I need my purse or at least my wallet if we're going to lunch," you recalled, turning back towards the kitchen.

"Nuh-uh, nope, no way, this was my idea, therefore it is my treat," Dean replied. With his hands on your shoulders, he steered you back so you were facing the shop's front door once again. "I'll have her back in an hour, boss lady," Dean called over his shoulder. Charlie made a shooing motion with her hands, and the next thing you knew, you and Dean were out the door.

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

Once outside, you scanned the area for places to go and have lunch, but Dean seemed to already have an idea of where to go. He picked up your hand with his, and guided you towards the little diner that was a few blocks from the bakery. Pausing in front of the door, he asked, "Is this okay?"

"Oh, absolutely, I love this place. Their fries have exactly the right amount of crispy that I love, and they have awesome milkshakes,"  you gushed.

Dean pulled the door open for you to walk in before him. "After you, milady," he gestured with a bow.

"Thank you, kind sir," you giggled as your cheeks grew quite warm, even in the air-conditioned diner. Dean's hand settled on the small of your back, gently ushering you to an open table by the window. A waitress with bright red hair and big doe eyes strode over to your table, pen and order pad in her hand.

"Welcome to The Bluebird Café, what can I start you with to drink?" Emma, your server, asked.

"I'll have a cup of coffee, please," Dean replied.

"And I'll have an Arnold Palmer, please," you asked.

"Excellent, and do you need a few minutes, or are you ready to order?" Emma inquired.

You and Dean looked at each other, both shrugged and grinned. You ordered the turkey club sandwich with fries, while he ordered the bacon cheeseburger with fries. Emma smiled and said she would be back shortly with your drinks.

"So," he started. "You do know that an 'Arnold Palmer' is just an iced tea with a whole lot of lemon in it, right?" Dean teased.

"I know, but it's what I like," you laughed. "This is nice, thank you. I usually don't get much of a chance to take a 'real' lunch break. You know, one where I actually leave the shop. Usually, I'm bringing in leftovers and reheating them in the microwave," you explained.

"Well, that is a tragedy, one I am committed to remedying for you," Dean declared. He leaned back, since Emma had returned with your drink order. As she set his drink on the table, she gave him a big wink, which did not go unnoticed by you. An unfamiliar and unpleasant feeling fluttered in your stomach at her obvious attempts at flirting with Dean.

Dean seemed to pay no attention to her, though. He continued to rattle on about possibly making this a once-a-week event for the two of you. Suddenly he stopped talking and carefully reached across the table for your hand. As soon as he made contact, you jumped as if scalded by boiling hot water.

"I'm sorry, was it something I said?" he asked gently. He pulled his hand back, waiting for you to make the next move.

"No, Dean, I'm sorry. What were you saying about lunch?" you asked, hoping to revisit the subject.

"It's all right, we can talk about this another time," he promised. At that moment, his phone went off, and he rolled his eyes as he fished it out of his pants pocket. If the look on Dean's face was any indication, it said he'd rather not interrupt lunch with you to answer. However, he knew he had to take it.

"Sa-Sammy? Sam. Slow down, bro, what's going on? They what? You're kidding me. No, don't worry, I'll handle it. I'll think of  something and let you know. Bye, bro," Dean grimaced as he  disconnected the call.

By this time, Emma had returned with your lunch order, placing your meals in front of you. Reaching across the table, you took his hand in yours. "Is everything okay? Something I can help with, Dean?" you asked with concern.

Dean let out a small chuckle. "You're so sweet. It's about my parents' 30th anniversary party.  They've decided to go all out for this party, they've rented a ballroom at this hotel, invited a bunch of their friends, black-tie. There'll be dinner, dancing, the works," he explained.

"Sounds fancy," you added.

"Yup. So, we hired this company to make these baked goods for the dessert table, but they had to cancel. Seems they overbooked themselves, and ours was the last order taken, so the first to be cancelled," he grumbled.

"That's terrible! Also, extremely unprofessional," you retorted.

"Anyway, the party is in three months, and now I have to come up with a solution before everyone is booked. Wait a minute," Dean said, his face brightening.

"What?" you asked.

"You work for a bakery, and I've seen firsthand the work you all can do. If the product tastes even half as good as it looks, I think I've found a solution to my problem. What if your shop took the contract?" Dean suggested.

You pondered his idea for a minute. On the one hand, you and your co-workers took great pride in your work. You were confident that your shop could compete with the larger ones. On the other hand, it was a rather daunting task. One that may possibly blow up in your face if it didn't go well. "How about we ask Charlie when we get back? Let her decide if we can handle a job of that scale, not to mention prestige," you replied.

"Oh, sweetheart, if you can convince her to take the job, I would be forever in your debt," Dean remarked as he dug into his burger.

Your cheeks grew warm at hearing his endearment for you. "That's not necessary, Dean," you said shyly.

He put his burger down and reached for your hand across the table and grasped it in his. "You know, you're awfully pretty when you blush. Sweetheart," he added with a wink.

You felt as if your cheeks were the temperature of glowing hot metal from a sword-maker's forge. "Thank you, Dean," you whispered.

At some point, you had the presence of mind to pick up your sandwich and take your first bite. The warm turkey and crispy bacon against the cool lettuce, tomato and mayo nearly melted in your mouth. Once you and Dean had finished your sandwich and his burger, you took turns stealing fries from each others' plates. It was the most relaxed lunch break you'd taken in a while.

All too soon, it was time for you to return to work. Before you left your table, you made sure to exchange phone numbers with Dean. When you got back to the shop, Dean's pie order was all boxed up and ready to go. You went into the kitchen and asked Charlie to come out to one of the tables, because Dean had something to ask her.

When he was done explaining his dilemma, Charlie was silent for a few minutes. You and Dean passed nervous looks back and forth to each other until Charlie cleared her throat. "I think....I think that we could help you out, Dean. You said the party is in three months?" she  asked. Dean confirmed the date of the party as June 20th, three and a half months away. "You know what? Let's do this!" Charlie exclaimed.

Hugs were exchanged and a preliminary order form for the party was completed. Once that was done, you helped Dean load up his slices of pie in a shopping bag. After he placed the last one in the bag, you put your hand on his arm. "Thank you so much for lunch today. I had a wonderful time with you. Next time, though, it's my treat," you promised.

"Anything you say, as long as there is a next time," he agreed, tapping on the end of your nose. "It's time I should be getting home and start sampling these pies. Maybe I'll share them with my family....then again, maybe not," Dean grinned and waggled his eyebrows.

You laughed at Dean's antics. "I hope you enjoy your purchase, sir. Don't eat too many at once, or you'll get sick, you know! Hope you have a great rest of your day," you replied.

"Until we meet again, sweet lady," Dean said softly. He captured your hand once more and brushed his lips to the back of it. "Ladies," he called to your boss and co-workers as he walked out the door.

As soon as the door was shut, everyone swarmed around you. "Where on earth did you meet him?" Kara and Charlie both asked.

"Girls, he's my next-door neighbor. He's friendly, easy to talk to and has a great sense of humor. Also has a dog, a Golden Retriever," you mentioned.

"And he's good-looking, hot, handsome, all of the above," Kara interjected.

You rolled your eyes, even though you agreed with Kara's assessment. "Can we please get back to work?" you asked with mock exasperation. Reluctantly, everyone returned to their station and the remainder of the day passed without further comment on Dean. Mostly, anyway. Charlie stopped you as you were both closing up the shop for the night.

"Seriously, you need to do something about and with that neighbor of yours. Not everyone is a jerk like your ex, honey," she remarked.

"I know, Char. Right now, I'm having fun being friends with Dean. For now, that is," you hastily added.

"Uh, okay, but the way he was looking at you tells me that he wishes you were having fun as more than friends. He's into you. Taking you to lunch, buying one slice of every kind of pie we have. Giving us this tremendous opportunity to cater his parents' anniversary. Face it, he likes you," she finished.

"We'll see, Charlie. For now, I'm going home to shower, order a pizza then probably fall asleep halfway through some movie. I know, the riveting life I lead," you remarked sarcastically.

You and Charlie walked out to your cars together and gave each other a hug before going your separate ways. You promised to let her know if anything more developed between you and Dean. "Don't get your hopes up, Char," you warned, even though you secretly wished for another opportunity to get together with your neighbor.

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

As predicted, you didn't go out for drinks with your friends from work. You breathed a sigh of relief when you parked your car in front of your house. "Home at last," you announced to yourself. Once inside the house, you deposited your keys in the bowl on the shelf next to the door.

You walked into your room and began peeling off your clothes to get ready for your shower. The hot water coursing over your body soothed your aching muscles from a hard day's work. You dried yourself off and put on your pink plaid pajama pants and an oversized sweatshirt. From your phone, you accessed the app for the pizza place and ordered your dinner. You settled on the couch for some mindless TV program while you waited for your delivery.

About 40 minutes later, your doorbell rang, signaling dinner was served. When you opened your door, you were surprised to see Dean standing there, holding your pizza. "Well, this is certainly a surprise. I didn't know you moonlighted as a pizza delivery man," you teased.

"I'll have you know, I'm a man of many talents and secrets. Sadly, though, pizza delivery is neither of them. I had to kind of hijack this from your actual delivery person. I was hoping we could make good on that deal to get together, since you have no big plans? You know, that we were talking about this morning?" he asked with hope.

You laughed as you opened the door wider for him to come in. "How can I refuse such an offer? Please, come in," you replied, your heart hammering. "Let's bring the pizza into the kitchen and we can fix our plates there. Would you like something to drink?" you asked.

He asked for a beer if you had it, which fortunately, you did. For yourself, you poured a glass of white wine. "A toast," Dean started. "To dinner and a movie with the sweetest woman I know. Cheers," he finished softly, clinking his glass to yours.

"Cheers," you returned softly. At that moment, your phone rang in your pocket. Dean noticed how your smile completely dropped when you noticed the name on the Caller ID. Anthony, your ex-husband. You took a deep breath before answering, "Hello?"

"What took you so long to answer?" Anthony demanded.

"If you must know, I have a guest over for dinner, Anthony, not that it's any of your business. I was deciding whether to pick up or let it go to voicemail. Looks like I made the wrong decision on that. What do you want?" you retorted.

"Whatever. My parents are coming over for dinner next week, and I can't find the silver flatware that they bought us as a wedding present. I've looked all over the house. It's not here, which means you must have taken it with you when you left. I want it back, and I will be over to your house tomorrow to pick it up," he declared.

"Anthony, what on earth makes you think I have any use for something like that? Besides, it's in the storage area under the basement stairs. I put it there after the last time we used it for dinner with your parents. And you are truly unbelievable if you think I'm capable of stealing," you huffed.

"How do I know you wouldn't take it to the pawn shop if--" he shot back but you  interrupted.

"Don't even THINK about finishing that thought, Anthony. I didn't want anything from you in the divorce. I didn't ask for alimony, all I took with me when I left was what I brought with me into the marriage. Well, all but my belief in a forever love. That was something I had to leave behind when you cheated on me with Ashlynn," you remarked, tears silently streaming down your cheeks. "I don't have your precious silver flatware, Anthony. Goodbye and don't ever call me again," you finished as you disconnected the call.

With a shaking hand, you placed your phone on the counter and covered your face with both hands. Silent sobs wracked your body and the next thing you knew, Dean had wrapped his arms around you in a warm  embrace. You leaned into his chest as the tears continued to streak down your face. "I'm so sorry you had to witness that. I can't believe he thought...." you trailed off as you let yourself be comforted by Dean.

"Shh, shh, it's okay. I'm sorry you had to deal for even one minute with your asshat of an ex," Dean replied, to which you gave a small chuckle. When he looked into your eyes, you noticed a kind of softness was in his eyes. He leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to your forehead in a lingering kiss. You sighed deeply in contentment and he tightened his embrace just a bit.

"Um....Dean? If it's okay, I'd still like us to hang out, spend time together tonight. Shall we get our pizza and watch our movie? If you still want to, that is," you added.

"I would love nothing more, sweetheart. Let's do that," he agreed.

"I'm going to go splash some cold water on my face, then I'll be in a much better mood. Be back in a few," you promised but not before pressing a shy kiss to his cheek.

Dean stood in your kitchen, a bit stunned. His fingertips brushed the place where your lips had just been, as a broad grin swept across his face. What a woman, he thought.

His thoughts darkened a bit when he thought back on the phone conversation he witnessed. What a colossal jerk you had for an ex-husband. How dare he suggest that you would steal anything from anyone? You are a strong, independent and selfless woman, how dare he betray your trust by cheating on you? Dean knew that if Anthony was in front of him at this moment, he wouldn't be standing long, because Dean would punch him.

Dean's heart nearly broke in two when he heard what you said about not believing in a forever love anymore. He made a vow to himself to do everything he could to restore your faith and belief in love again.

The rest of the evening went a little more smoothly than it did at the beginning. When the movie was over, you walked Dean to the door, where he lingered a little. He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear just before he pressed another soft kiss to your forehead. He said he would call you in the morning about plans for the day, and that he'd  like to see you again. You agreed, and wished him goodnight, a sentiment which he returned.

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

On Monday afternoon, Charlie called you to the front about something. You had no idea what it could be, so you washed your hands and went to find her. When you got up front, you saw a vase with a dozen roses of assorted colors in it. "The card's for you, and I think you have some 'splaining to do," she teased.

You opened the card, and as you read it to yourself, your cheeks grew warm, which did not escape anyone's notice. You replaced the card in the envelope and slid it in your pocket without sharing its contents.

Kara spread her arms wide then dropped them to her sides in exasperation. "So? What gives? Are they from 'him'? What did the card say?" she asked.

"First of all, yes, they're from Dean. And 'B', I don't have to tell you what the card said," you replied mysteriously.

"Must have been some weekend if she's not willing to share details," Charlie muttered.

"Wouldn't YOU like to know," you taunted.

"YEAH! Actually, I would like to know!" Charlie shot back, but with a small smile. It was nice to see you happy, something she hadn't seen in you for quite some time. Not since the divorce, anyway. Charlie decided that if Dean was who made you happy, then it didn't matter what the card said. Still curious, though, she thought to herself.

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

In the months leading up to the anniversary party, you and Dean spent more and more time together. You took turns cooking dinner and hanging out at each other's houses. Most nights you ended up on the porch swing, sitting and talking as people walked by. Those were the times you treasured, when it was just the two of you, sometimes his dog. The walls around your heart, put there because of Anthony, were starting to come down, allowing your trust in Dean to grow.

Dean was careful to take things between you at your pace. As much as he wanted to get closer to you, he wanted more than anything for you to be comfortable being with him. Nights out on the porch started with holding hands and soft kisses. Then it moved to the two of you snuggled together in the cool night air or on the couch during a movie. You learned that Dean gave good foot massages, which felt like heaven after a day on your feet baking pies.

One night after dinner at your place, you were standing at the sink rinsing dishes to be put in the dishwasher. You were too busy singing to yourself and swaying your hips. You failed to notice what was going on behind you in the kitchen.

Dean had come around the corner to enter the kitchen, only to hear you singing and see you dancing. Never had he heard a sweeter sound than the melody of your voice, whether singing, speaking or laughing. He quietly positioned himself so he was in your path, directly behind you. If you pivoted just right, you'd run straight into him, which was exactly what he wanted.

You needed to check if there were any other dirty dishes in the dining room. You turned away from the sink and ran smack dab into Dean, your palms landing flat against his solid chest. As he looked down to you, his eyes held a spark of amusement. You looked closer and caught a fleeting glimpse of what you thought was adoration and maybe even love.

"Careful there, darlin’. Wouldn't want you to fall and hurt yourself. Most accidents happen in the kitchen, or so I've heard," Dean explained softly.

"Well," you said as your tongue darted out to lick your lips. That move was nearly Dean's undoing, though you were unaware of its effect on him. "If I fall, I'm sure you'll be there to catch me. Right?" you asked breathily.

"Sweetheart, I will always be there for you," he promised, brushing your cheeks with his fingertips. "Anthony didn't know what he had when you were together. You deserve to be told every day how loved and cherished you are. You should know what a vibrant, sexy woman you are and how lucky I am that I get to do this." He bent his head towards you and captured your lips with his.

At first, the kiss was soft and tender, as if Dean was testing the boundaries between you. As your mouths moved in tandem, the kisses became more insistent and urgent. You slid your hands up his chest and moved them behind his head. Grinning with mischief, your delicate fingers played with the hairs at the base of his neck.

You could feel his smile as he dropped open-mouthed kisses along your neck, behind your ear, wherever he could reach. You felt the tickle of the vibrations against your skin from his playful growl at your teasing his neck. When the need for oxygen became too great, you broke apart, both breathing heavily.

"Whoa, Dean. That was amazing," you whispered.

"Sugar, you're more than 'amazing', I was going to say 'magical'," Dean replied.

"Dean, really, I'm not--" he silenced your protest by sealing his lips to yours once again. There was just enough of an opening between you for Dean's tongue to sneak through. A fact that he took full advantage of, and when your tongues met, a moan of pleasure escaped from you.

Dean's hands roamed up and down your back as he reached into your hair and gently tugged your head back, exposing your neck. "So beautiful," he murmured against your skin, nipping and ultimately leaving his mark on you for all to see.

Your hands slid around from behind his head to cradle his face so you could attack his lips once again. Just before you dove in to capture his mouth with your own, Dean pulled back a little.

"Is this okay, sweetheart? Or do you want more? We can stop anytime you want," he assured you.

Without a moment's hesitation, "More, I want more with you Dean. Let's go upstairs," you replied as you tugged his hand for him to follow.

Once upstairs in your room, layers of clothing were shed one by one. With no more clothing barriers between you, Dean nudged you backwards until the back of your knees hit the bed. You climbed up onto the mattress, crawling until you reached the middle. Dean soon joined you and leaned down to kiss you.

His hands and mouth took their time in worshiping every inch of your exposed skin, as if committing it to memory. Your mouth and hands were doing the same, mapping every muscle, every scar, every detail of his exquisite bare body.

Never had you been with such a patient lover, one who was more interested in learning what brought you pleasure than chasing his own end. He wanted to know which touch produced which sounds, so he could fulfill your every desire.

For as much as he was learning about you, there was an eagerness on your end to return the favor. You wanted to discover what sounds he would produce with every caress or stroke of your fingers on his skin. That way, you could be sure to replay each move as often as possible.

The silence of your room was punctuated with breathy words of affection and moans of ecstasy from the two of you. Layers of passion were built higher and higher as you both chased your release. Finally, you both tumbled over the edge, one after the other, each whispering declarations of love.

Later, after getting cleaned up, he belatedly realized that neither of you used protection. You assured him that you were clean and had just renewed your birth control, which eased his mind. He wrapped his arm around you so that your head rested on his chest. You could hear his steady heartbeat, which brought out a sigh of contentment from you.

"Hey," he whispered softly, turning to face you. His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb caressing it.

"Hey yourself," you grinned. At the serious look on his face, you pulled back a little. "Is everything okay? Oh, god, you don't regret--" he interrupted your spiraling mind with a kiss.

"No, sweetheart, never! You're an incredible woman, and I don't regret one second of what just happened between us. Quite the opposite, actually," he chuckled. "I wanted to ask if you would be my 'plus-one' to my parents' anniversary party," he finished.

Your eyes lit up with excitement. "Really?" you whispered. "You want me to meet your parents? That's such an important occasion," you remarked as the self-doubt kicked in.

"I know. That's why I want the woman I love by my side," he replied.

"You love me?" you asked softly.

"Darlin', I've been in love with you since you moved in. Why do you think I'm out on my porch, every morning, when you leave for work? If I don't catch sight of you, even through the curtains, I don't feel like I'll have a good day. You're a strong, passionate and intelligent woman, with a kind and generous heart. There is everything to love about you," he explained.

"Dean, the past few months we've spent together have been wonderful. I feel so comfortable around you, like I can finally be myself. I can tell you anything, without fear of being judged in any way. You are an amazing man, Dean Winchester. I fell in love with you when we went to lunch at The Bluebird Café. That day and everything between us since has restored my belief in a 'forever love'. I love you, Dean," you finished.

"Guess this means you're going shopping for a dress, huh?" he asked, to which you nodded. "Well, sweetheart, you'd better make sure it looks as good on you as it's going to on my bedroom floor," he smirked.

"Your bedroom floor?" you arched an eyebrow in mock annoyance. "Who's to say we wouldn't come back here after the party? Then it would be my bedroom floor," you pointed out.

"Either one works for me, darlin', as long as it ends with you out of the dress," he grinned and waggled his eyebrows.

"You are so lucky that I love you," you remarked.

"Yes, I am. I love you too," he replied softly, as he placed a slow, luxurious kiss on your lips.

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

Tags: @janicho88, @akshi8278, @magssteenkamp, @swiftlymoniquesblog, @lyarr24, @miss-nerd95, @distefano123, @hobby27, @deanwanddamons, @wayward-mikaelson, @jawritter, @gabrielslittleangel, @jensengirl83, @deangirl93, @ellewritesfix05, @supernatural-jackles, @winchesterprincessbride, @babygurltt

[thetomorrowshow]

Slower Than Words Ch. 21

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I know I keep saying this, but unless my life suddenly slows down soon, updates will be slowed. This one was so close to being late. I have a layout for the story, I just don’t have the spare time to write. I am about to lose a commitment, though, so maybe things will work out!

cw: arguing, panic attack, angst

~

“You don't need a job.”

“Yes I do! I can't just let you and Remus support me, I'm an adult!”

“You're still recovering. You don't even know what a job would be like in this world.”

“Then let me find out!”

“Patton, no. This is not up for debate any longer.”

Patton stood up suddenly, shoving his chair back with a loud screeeech. For a moment, his anger boiled, so near to the surface, as he contemplated walking out of the apartment and getting himself a job.

Instead, he shoved the feelings down and stormed into his room, slamming the door shut. How could Father be so—so—!

All he wanted was to feel like he was actually contributing something. Sure, he was still in three kinds of therapy, but Father couldn't pay for that all himself, even with his two jobs. He couldn’t expect Remus to help, either—Remus was his own person with his own ambitions.

Patton picked up his pillow, only to throw it as hard as he could at the bed. He took a couple of deep breaths, then did it again. He was an adult, he could do anything Father or Remus could do, and he wanted to help! He wanted to see the Outside, interact with people from Out, learn what life was like here. He hadn't gone anywhere yet except his therapy appointments, which were all in the same cluster of buildings, so it wasn't like he was being exposed to a wide variety of stimuli.

Something was off, but Patton shook the feeling away. He was too mad to try and figure it out. Father didn't have much money at all, they were skating by on very little and Patton could help with that! He could help his family stay safe and alive, and here, with him.

Patton had felt helpless his whole life. There was always something, someone, to be afraid of. There was always something, someone, to hold him in place. He was always trapped. He'd thought, for months, that getting out would mean a sunny life full of smiles, a life with love and happiness.

This wasn't happiness. This wasn't sunshine, and certainly not smiles. This was being locked away, only leaving to see doctors who tried to 'fix' him, only to—

Patton fell to his knees, clutching his head as he tried to shut the memories out. There was panic rising in his chest, dousing the anger like cold water with fire, and he didn't know why. Where was Virgil, why wasn't he here? Where was his jacket—there, on the desk. So where was Virgil? Why wasn't he here, where was Father, please, not again, please—

The door.

The door was closed, and Patton hadn't closed it, had he? Someone shut him in. Someone had shut him in, and they weren't going to let him out. No, not okay, not at all okay. There was no way for him to tell someone to let him out, he couldn't ask for help!

Why wouldn't Father let him learn to talk?

Patton crawled over to the door, shaking fearfully as he reached up for the doorknob. Part of him was holding him back, insisting that if he didn't know that the door was locked then it couldn't be locked. Instead of giving in to that, he turned the handle, and—

It opened, with just a little bit of resistance of dragging along the carpet, and Patton fell over in relief. He was safe, he was at home with Father, he wasn't confined to a room. He noticed that his face was hot, and reached up to find tears.

Patton felt a little embarrassed, now that he realized that nothing had been wrong. He'd just been freaking out over nothing. Probably something he'd have to talk about with one of his therapists.

He got to his feet, his legs shaking a bit, which reminded him suddenly of Virgil. Patton felt a pang as he thought of his lost love. Remus had said that Virgil had gotten out for certain, but he didn't know anything else. He couldn't believe it—they both finally got freedom, escaped to the same place, yet their paths hadn't crossed. They'd been separated, before they even got to see each other.

The house vibrated, and Patton peered out his door to see Remus kicking his shoes off in front of the front door. He was saying something to Father, his mouth moving at lightning speed.

Patton withdrew into his room, taking a moment to pull on Virgil's jacket before falling back onto his bed. His heart was still thumping wildly, adrenaline surging through him. Everything was fine, though. Not good, necessarily. But fine.

-

Remus flopped onto the couch beside Logan, letting a drawn-out sigh hiss out of him. Logan watched him impassively, though there was a crease between his brows, and he didn't look all that present.

“You good, Lolo?” Remus asked. He scratched his mustache absently, not at all missing Logan's quick glance to Patton's room.

The kid was cool, if a bit jumpy. He and Logan had been butting heads a bit lately, and today must have been the day of another angry hands match. Remus wasn't really able to keep up, but Logan had filled him in—Patton wanted a job, and to learn how to read lips and talk. Like that one lady, but without the blind part or whatever.

Remus was on Patton's side, sort of—the kid needed out, and that was fair. He'd needed out to, which was why he got a job at the gas station thirty minutes out. Gave him time to drive, think. Laugh at the music on the radio. Pretend he was collecting a string of coins on the road. Fun stuff, free stuff. Pat pretty clearly needed some of that, and Logan was definitely motherhenning.

On the other hand, though, the three were barely keeping afloat. After payments for Patton's therapy (which they had financial aid for, too), there was only just enough to cover bills and food and whatall. They hadn't even been able to buy Pat more clothes, he was just re-wearing the same two or three outfits over and over. Which played into why he wanted a job—another person with a job meant more money, but even that wouldn't be enough money to cover lipreading lessons, let alone speaking lessons.

Who would hire a deaf kid, anyway?

Deaf young adult, Remus reminded himself. Patton was only a handful of years younger than him. He wasn't a kid, and he probably didn't want to be called a kid.

Suddenly, Remus realized that Logan was talking. He really needed to stop getting lost in thought.

“I can't let that happen,” Logan was saying. “Not again.”

Ah, they'd reached the part of the day where Logan talked about how guilty he felt. Lovely to tune in to!

“Lo, I get it. You've given me this spiel like eight million times already,” Remus said. “You love Patty, blah blah your fault, blah blah blah kidnapping, not safe blah blah. Come up with new material.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but he seemed to have broken out of his self-deprecating cycle, so Remus had succeeded.

“Why don't we talk to the school district?” Remus continued. “They've gotta have some deaf kids, and Pat could be a translator or something, I don't know.” He'd been thinking about it for a few days now. If there was anyone who needed a translator full-time, it was a school. He'd thought about other places—a church (nope bad memories probably), the post office (too many people), a motel (too shifty). Not to mention, all the places wouldn't need him regularly. The school seemed like the best bet. Logan, however, shook his head without even considering it.

“No, he doesn't know the first thing about a school.” Remus snapped his fingers. “Perfect place to learn! Good thinking!”

“That is not what I mean. I don't feel comfortable putting him in a situation where he would have to regularly deal with normal people.” Logan adjusted his glasses, his hand running up from there to trail through his hair. “He's not ready. It isn't safe for him until we can adjust his therapy schedule to include sensitivity training. It will take him years to be able to get a job, according to the timeline I've drawn up. Not to mention, in order to get a decent, respectable job, he must undertake a college education at a reputable university.”

That was completely wrong, and ruled out trade schools and apprenticeships. It also stung, pretty badly. Logan knew full well that Remus hadn't been to college. Remus tried to not let the hurt show on his face as he stopped listening to Logan's tirade.

He was wrong. Little Patty-Cake could totally survive in the real world. But how to prove it to him?

-

Patton was reading, sprawled out on his bed, several days after the fight when he saw his door move slightly out of the corner of his eye. He sat up to see Remus waving at him. He sent a casual wave back, before returning to his book. He was learning a lot—the book's main characters all worshiped differently. He hadn't even known that there was more than one religion.

His bed dipped, which meant that Remus had come in and sat on his bed. Patton took his time finishing his page. Eventually, Remus waved in his face.

“That's rude, you know,” Patton signed, finally placing a bookmark in the book and closing it. “What do you need?”

Remus took a moment, repeating Patton's sentences in miniature as he worked his way through it. Then he bounced a little bit, smiled, and pulled something out of the tote bag on his shoulder that Patton hadn't noticed until now.

A book.

Another one?

Patton didn't want to complain, but he had so many books already. Father was always going to the library in between shifts, bringing a new thing to read. He had six or seven to catch up on still, he didn't need another. And he was getting a little bored of reading.

Remus raised his eyebrows expectantly, holding it out, gesturing for Patton to take it. He did, watching Remus's excited eyes for a moment before turning his attention to the title.

Lip-Reading Principles And Practice: A Hand-book for Teacher and for Self-Instruction.

No.

Really?

Patton smiled, huge, hope building in his chest. Remus grinned toothily, and rereading the title was all it took for Patton to be launching into Remus's chest with a hug.

He was really going to learn! He could really do this! He released the laughing Remus to run his hands across the lightly damaged cover reverently, then hugged Remus again.

He couldn't wait to get started.

~

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added/removed): @enragedbees @gotta-love-alejandra @bunny222 @basiic-emo @patt0n-sanders @rosiepupper @fangirlgeekandfreak @dn-fan21 @that2000skid @remy-the-lemon-berry @itsadastraperaspera @xionbean @sanderssides-angst @hell-yea-we-gay-tonight @maybedefinitely404 @broken-pencils @thewhimsicallibrarytech @doomllily @hereissananxiousmess @judyismydog  @arodynamic-enby @at-that-one-nerd @therapysides @awkwardandanxiousfander @thekitchenpan @im-an-anxious-wreck

[katedrakeohd]

A Very Merry Birthday (6)

[Masterlist]

Rated: Mature 18+

(3 🍋s on fire, because we're talking threesome here.)

Characters involved: (TRH)Drake & Kate Walker, Preston Davis the bodyguard.

Content warning: Sexual situations (dubcon, masturbation, threesome), swearing, angst, fluff.

Word count: 6000+ (buckle up, get your popcorn and prefered beverage ready)

Prompts included: From Wacky Drabbles- ( they appear bolded in story, but not necessarily in order)

#82 - I didn't realize I needed your permission.

#84 - Just keep moving.

#85 - Do you want me to leave?

::

Tagging:

@darley1101 @sfb123 @mom2000aggie @fluffyfirewhiskey @jovialyouthmusic @sirbeepsalot @kingliam2019 @no-one-u-know @nikkis1983 @glaimtruelovealways @texaskitten30 @bbrandy2002 @marshmallowsandfire

Drake leaves Preston alone in his room to get changed. Standing in the silence of the hallway all he could hear and feel were the sound of his blood rushing through his ears and the thud of his heart in his chest and throat. 

Being alone with Kate was his favourite way to spend an evening, and now he had invited another man over to participate. He was still unsure how this night was going to go. The thought of watching his wife touching another man in a sensual way was outside of his comfort zone. He had to trust Kate to not take this too far. He also had to keep himself from wanting to murder Preston for taking pleasure out of touching and kissing his wife. And somehow he had to find pleasure of his own if he was to perform adequately to please Kate. Fuck, this feels all kinds of wrong. 

He sees Preston come out of his room with his hair combed, dressed in trousers, but in bare feet. Drake gives him a wry grin and runs his fingers back through his own hair to fix it. Preston's rakish good looks were already exaggerated by the thickness of his mustache and the scruff of his stubble, making Drake feel less masculine with his shaven cheeks and neatly trimmed hair. He suddenly understood how Maxwell felt about Drake showing off his chest hair at the beach, or when he rolled up his sleeves to do a strenuous task. Drake's stomach was suddenly in knots and he wished he had some whiskey to take the edge off his nerves. He doesn't know what to say to the mountain of a man standing next to him, so he just acknowledges him with a nod and then knocks at his hotel room door.

"You don't have your key?" Preston asks, keeping his voice low.

Drake shakes his head, speaking softly, "No, I gave it to her."

From the other side of the door they can hear Kate ask with a playful sing song tone of voice, "Who is it?"

Drake leans against the doorframe and then says, "Room service."

The door opens and Kate looks them over with a smile on her face, "Hello."

Drake grins, "I believe you ordered the two for one entertainment special."

Kate steps back to allow them to come into the room. "Yes, yes I did. Come on in."

After Kate closes the door behind them there's a brief awkward moment as the two men glance at each other and then toward Kate expectantly. With a gentle smile, Kate walks over to Drake and stretches up on her toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. He wraps his arm around her back to hug her to his side and she rests her hand on his cheek, whispering in his ear. 

"You've done well, my love. Why don't you go off to the bathroom, brush your teeth, and freshen up a bit while I talk privately with Preston for a moment?"

Drake looks quickly to Preston and then lets go of Kate, keeping his voice low, "Are you sure? Maybe I should stay."

Patting him gently on the chest, she grins, "Don't worry. We'll be fine. I'm not going to start anything while you're gone."

Drake looks between Kate and Preston, trying to fight the uneasy feeling in his gut. Walking over to the bed he keeps an eye on them as he sits down to take off his shoes and socks. "No funny business, Preston. I know very well how irresistible Kate can be."

Preston smirks at him, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I promise to keep my hands to myself, sir."

"Good."

After Drake disappears into the bathroom, Preston breathes a sigh of relief, relaxing a little. "Is he always like this?"

Kate grins at the bodyguard, leading him further into the room. "Drake's complicated."

She sits down on the end of the bed and he settles down into the comfortable armchair opposite. 

"Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

Kate shrugs, crossing her legs and arranging her skirt around her knees. "You can ask."

"What's it like to be married to a guy like him?"

"It's interesting, sometimes infuriating, definitely intense, and absolutely incredible."

Preston chuckles, "That's a lot of 'I' words to describe someone."

Kate glances toward the bathroom, wondering how much Drake can overhear.

"Trust me, Drake's the whole alphabet. The only drawback is that he just won't shut up about his feelings."

Preston chuckles again, "Good one. I know I have some 'a' words to describe him too. But I'll keep those to myself."

Kate nods, "Considering that he's your boss, I think that's smart. I want to apologize again for hurting you. I was afraid if I hadn't stopped things that Drake might have hurt you worse."

Preston looks down at his lap, "You could have just slapped my face again."

"Yeah, I know. So are you still sore?"

Preston leans forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees, "A little tender, there will probably be bruising tomorrow, but not my first time taking a hit to the groin."

Kate appraises him over again, lifting her eyebrow, "So you've gotten handsy with an unwilling date before? You don't strike me as that kind of guy, Preston."

He shakes his head, "Nah, nah. I've just been dumb enough to play backyard sports without a cup."

Drake returns from the bathroom, "Oh yeah? What kind of sports did you play?"

Kate interrupts before Preston can answer, "Don't tell me you two would rather discuss sports, than play with me. If so, I'll just send Preston back to his room and you two can chitchat on the drive home tomorrow."

Drake shakes his head, placing his hands on his hips, "No, after all the trouble I went through to get him here, I'd rather see what kind of play you have in mind."

Kate glances between her two men with a smile, "Before we play we need to set some rules."

"Ok," Preston says, sitting back in his chair.

Drake nods, "But, don't forget about my stipulation that I brought up earlier."

"Which is?" Preston wants to know.

Kate sighs giving Preston an apologetic look, "Drake insisted that no part of you was allowed inside of any part of me."

Preston frowns, "That kind of reduces any sort of fun for me in this situation doesn't it?"

Drake folds his arms across his chest, "Well yeah, sorry to burst your bubble but I'm just trying to protect my marital relationship here. I don't want this, whatever it turns out to be, jeopardizing my marriage by turning into some future affair between you two."

"You know I'm the one who is supposed to be in charge here right? One night of fun isn't going to ruin anything. Trust me, Drake." Kate insists. "We've already been over this."

Preston digs into the pocket of his trousers, pulling out a foil condom packet, "And if you're that worried about what might happen in the heat of the moment, I did bring protection."

"See? There you go, Drake. He came prepared. Now let's get this party started. And as the Duchess in Charge, I am deciding our party games."

"Sexual party games, seriously?" Drake grumbles, rolling his eyes. 

Kate gets up from the bed, "Oh come on, Mr. Crankypants. I know you'll enjoy them, and besides I'll be explaining how we play each game as we go."

"Mr. Crankypants. I bet you were a barrel of laughs at birthday parties when you were a kid," Preston laughs.

Drake shoots him an angry glare, and Preston smirks back at him, "Speaking of name calling, that brings up an issue. If she's directing the action, I need to know how I'm supposed to acknowledge you both. In my job I use, 'Your Grace, Sir, and Ma'am.'  And I don't know if that works here, considering how intimate we're all about to be."

Drake breathes an annoyed sigh, jabbing his thumb in Preston's direction as he addresses his wife, "If I hear him saying your name in any sort of passionate or seductive way I'm seriously going to lose it. I'll kill him with my bare hands."

"Ok, fine. To safeguard Preston's life, and my husband's precious ego, I'll allow Preston to call me 'K'. Is that neutral enough?"

Drake nods and so does Preston. 

"And so he'll be 'D' then?"

Kate shrugs, "Works for me, but I'm still using both your proper names."

Drake folds his arms, "Ok, so what's happening first?"

"We undress of course, and I'm hoping neither of you are shy. Because I want you and Preston to undress each other. But I want everyone to keep their underoos on for now."

Drake sticks his hand in his pocket, grabbing a handful of Kate's panties. "Um, but you aren't wearing yours."

Preston swallows, "Sh..she's not?"

Drake pulls the lacy undergarment out of his pocket, "Nope. I took these off of her earlier."

Kate holds her hand out, "I'll take them back now."

He dangles them off his finger and then drops them into her hand. "So who is the lucky guy that gets to put them back on you?"

"The first guy down to his underwear gets to slide mine back on, but here's the catch, the other guy gets to take my dress off of me," Kate says with a grin. 

Preston pushes himself up out of the chair, an amused twinkle in his eye and a smile tugging at his mouth, "So one of us gets to touch you from the top down, while the other gets to touch you from the bottom up? I like how you play games K. Fun for everybody."

Drake steps forward to place his hand on Preston's arm, "Curb your enthusiasm there, cowboy."

Preston shakes his arm out of Drake's grasp. "If you're gonna get grabby then help me out of my clothes, D."

Drake turns to face Preston, staring him down as he untucked his dress shirt. The olive that Kate threw at him earlier falls out and bounces off Preston's foot. He looks down, "Is that an olive?"

"Don't ask," Drake mutters, undoing the buttons on the cuff of his sleeve, "I'm gonna help you out here, since you're dressed a lot more casually than I am."

Preston laughs, grabbing Drake by the sleeve to stop him from undressing further, "Hey, stop cheating. I'm supposed to do that for you."

Drake looks down at Preston's simple t-shirt and dress pants, and sees that he isn't wearing a belt. Damn, I want to be the one putting her panties on. Maybe if I take my time he'll get me down to my underwear first. Shit, that means he gets to touch her first. Damn you Kate. You're determined to piss me off with these party games.

Kate twirls her panties around her finger, "Come on you two, get with the baring of skin already. Don't make me take this dress off myself."

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Drake mutters, as he undoes the button on Preston's dress pants and then plucks at the fabric of his shirt to untuck it.

"Watch it there, D... I'm ticklish," Preston smirks as he works on the last two buttons of Drake's shirt. 

"Shut up, Preston," Drake grumbles, as he hears Kate giggle. 

"I didn't know watching two guys undress could be so entertaining. Keep going."

Preston undoes Drake's belt and dress pants next, staring him in the eye as he pulls down the zipper. "Lemme guess, your underwear are black too."

With a frown, Drake brushes Preston's hands aside. "Hands up, Meathead. I'm gonna pull up your shirt."

Preston's protest is muffled by Drake's yanking of his shirt up toward his head.  "Hey, the name calling isn't necessary. And ouch, you pinched me."

Drake makes sure to mess up Preston's hair as he tugs the shirt off of him and tosses it aside. 

"Hah, you're just jealous of my hair," Preston laughs as he brushes his back into place with his fingers.

Drake barks back, "Hardly, and your mustache looks ridiculous."

Preston shrugs, "Whatever you say, babyface."

"Hey! I'm fully capable of growing whatever beard I want. I just chose to shave before my date, and get a haircut. I..I wanted to look good for Kate," Drake argues, catching his wife's eye briefly, and then squaring off in front of his bodyguard again.

"No arguments here, Honey, but you're still overdressed. Preston, be a dear and even the playing field by taking off my husband's shirt. Then you'll see he has no trouble in the hair department."

Preston unbuttons the cuff on Drake's other sleeve and then peels back his shirt, letting it slide down his arms to the floor. Drake places his hands on his hips. The motion, combined with 

the weight of his belt and the phone in his pocket makes his dress pants fall down around his ankles. "Whoops, looks like I'm down to my underwear first."

Preston turns toward Kate, "He did that on purpose."

While Drake steps out of his pants, Kate shrugs and tosses her panties at him. "Here you go."

Drake tucks the edge of the lacy waistband into his mouth, mumbling as he relieves Preston of his pants, shoving them down over his ass. "There..ffinsh the rest of tht yrself."

Slipping Kate's panties over his wrist, Drake steps over to his wife. "Before I hand you off to him, and I'm forced to watch as he strips you naked, I want something first."

Kate licks her lips as he reaches up to cup her face in his hands, tilting her head back. "Oh, and what's that?"

As he leans in for a kiss the firm pressure of his mouth against hers almost hurts, making her whimper. He was determined to remind her that no matter how Preston touched her, he was the most important man in her life. When he finally pulls back, her lips are tingling.

He whispers a soft apology against her cheek when he sees her pained expression, "I'm sorry. Just please promise me something."

"What?" She whispers back, as he leans his forehead against hers, softly stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. 

"Make sure he asks your permission before he touches you anywhere. If he's rough with you in any way I'll never forgive myself." 

Stepping back, he sees her nod. "Okay," she whispers.

Turning away he glares at Preston, "She's all yours, but I'm warning you that I'm watching your every move. If I see your hands treating her with anything but the greatest of respect, I'll break your fingers and then I'll break your face. Understood?"

Preston nods, "Yes, understood. I promise to be as gentle as possible."

"Good. Oh and Preston?"

"Yeah?" He asks, as he steps out of his pants. His heart threatened to burst out of his chest, it was pounding so hard.

"Make sure she enjoys every second of it."

…

Drake's underwear weren't black afterall, they were blue. Preston's were grey. Kate's were black silk and lace. Drake was currently running them through his hands, and occasionally wrapping them around his fist. He watched Preston approach Kate, hoping he'd chicken out, or at least trip and fall on his big mustached face. His feet were big enough, but no such bad luck. Staring at Preston's back, with its broad shoulders and defined muscles made him feel small. Glancing down at the other man's large hands, he felt an ache in his gut over the thought of them being capable of touching Kate with tenderness. The way Kate's eyes traveled over Preston as he smiled at her, made Drake feel sick. He didn't want to watch Preston undress his wife, but at the same time he couldn't look away. He knew the satiny fabric of her dress wouldn't need much encouragement to slide down off of her, and after being tempted all evening by how great she'd looked in it; he was just as eager as Preston to see her naked.

Kate sized up Preston as he stood before her. Physically he wasn't much taller than Drake, barely an inch, but his posture was straighter. He seemed to tower over Kate, and her line of sight was mostly filled by the wall of his chest covered nipple to nipple by a golden mat of curly chest hair. When she looked up, his lip curled upward in a smirk, making his mustache twitch.

"I'm going to touch you Preston, are you okay with that?"

He sucks in a nervous breath and nods, "If it means I get to touch you back, then go right ahead."

Kate tries not to focus on the significant bulge in his underwear as she looks down, but it wasn't easy. She wasn't going to touch him there, not yet. She starts by stroking her fingers slowly up his arms beginning at his wrists. His fingers twitch, and she can't help noticing his chest rising and falling as his rate of breathing increases. 

"If you're affected this badly when I touch your arms, then what's going to happen if I touch you somewhere else?"

 

"I..I..don't know."

The amount of meat on his limbs was slightly more than Drake's but it was definitely more muscle than fat. Kate knew Drake's measurements off by heart because she helped him pick out his suits. If Preston were to put on Drake's clothes by accident, one flex of his muscles would split the seams. 

When Kate's hands make there way up to rest on his shoulders, his hands are still hanging by his sides. She pouts up at him and the desire in his eyes as he gazes back is obvious. 

"What's the matter Preston, don't you want me?" Kate asks, lowering her lashes and then slowly looking up to search his face.

His eyes widen momentarily in surprise at the unexpected seduction she was laying on him, "Is that a trick question?"

"No."

"You're either trying to kill me, or get me killed, asking me something like that."

"Well, answer the question."

Continues here ..>

[stranger-who-writes-fiction]

Gonna make full use of my ‘comic rant’ tag and roast Future State: Superwoman.

Spoilers! And yelling! Of the disgruntled kind!

So a few things at the start here: 1.) I wanted to love this book. I wanted it to be great. I wanted to give it the benefit of the doubt, in spite of some iffy stuff in the solicit text. So this rant is not coming from a place of having decided this was going to be awful ahead of time. 2.) My tolerance for bad Supergirl comics is pretty high! Takes a lot for me to actually come out and say that a particular issue is trash. Reader: This story is trash.

It’s not ‘middle-aged white guys writing/drawing a story about sending a minor to a potentially hostile planet fully nude’ trash, mind you. It’s the compost bin, rather than the landfill. Slightly nicer trash, but it still stinks to high heaven. Allow me to expand!

PROLOGUE - SUMMARY: ...I actually can’t summarize this comic b/c it would devolve into a lot of senseless yelling. We’ll just have to tease out this terrible plot as we go along. 

PART I - DEAD DOGS TELL BAD TALES: The comic opens with Kara standing at Krypto’s grave. That’s not why this comic is trash, but it bears mentioning. Because why. Why would you do this. 

PART II - IN WHICH IT ONLY GETS WORSE: So, Kara has a running inner monologue, and the main thing we gather from Kara’s thoughts is that it was Krypto who taught her to be a hero. On paper, that sounds very sweet! In practice, it reads as Kara having no moral center whatsoever—whatever good qualities she might possess, she did not learn from her parents, or her foster parents, or friends, or fellow heroes. Nor do they come from within Kara herself. Nope, t’was Krypto who taught Kara not to be a jealous rage monster. That is not hyperbole--Kara’s walking around angry about her cousin all the time and she’s like, ‘It was you, Krypto, who taught me not to judge, and to let go of anger.’ Listen, I love Krypto, but this? This is, as the youth would say, a bad look.

PART III - THOSE CERTAINLY ARE...SOME THEMES: The set-up here is that Kara is on the moon, and has established a sanctuary for alien refugees. That’s a dynamite idea! I love that! Buuuuut Kara didn’t look at the plight of alien refugees and say, ‘I want to help!’ Really, she didn’t even look at herself and say, ‘I don’t want others to feel like I’ve felt.’ No, she said, ‘Earth won’t accept me as a hero, and Clark didn’t name me protector of Earth, so. I’m out!’ (Honestly, if your moral compass is so whack that you need a dog to walk you back from Hulk-Smashing...can’t say I blame Clark for not picking you, Kara!) But apparently, the people on the moon don’t really like her either. And it is literally never explained why. There’s a whole montage of Kara fixing stuff and saving lives and all the moon folk just glare at her. This makes both the moon people AND Kara look like a**holes, because they come across as ungrateful, and she comes across as a glory hound. Thanks! I hate it! So the ‘peace’ Kara’s found on the moon isn’t really peaceful at all, cause she still resents her cousin, and people still don’t like her, in spite of the fact that she’s constantly performing acts of service for them. 

Also, side note, I’m just now realizing this is an entire population of alien refugees...and Kara is somehow still the odd one out. Like, Earth I get, because everyone else is a human and maybe freaked out by the super powers. But a bunch of aliens? WHY. Why did you do this. Why did this need to be set on the moon with alien refugees if you’re not going to interrogate Kara’s identity as an alien refugee herself AND all of the aliens are inexplicably humanoid in appearance and utterly ordinary in terms of power levels.  

Like. This is not the CW show, where they have a budget, and a huge ensemble cast to serve. YOU HAVE NO EXCUSE. AAARRRRRGHHHH.

PART III CONT’D: There’s also this weird ‘birthright’ element introduced...like, Clark and Jon stole Kara’s ‘right’ to be earth’s defender which is...a terrible reading of Kara’s modern origin. It brings in the idea that Kara is a ‘chosen one’ and because she didn’t get to be that chosen one, all of her hero work is for nothing. Never mind the whole central conceit of what makes Clark and Kara heroic...that they have this incredible power, and choose to do good with it. Nah...it’s all about her ‘right’ to protect the people of Earth! And mean ol’ Clark took that away! THANKS. I HATE IT. 

PART IV - A POOR USE OF SPACE: So, all of the Future State books kind of struggle with the issue of too much exposition, which is understandable. They have to introduce an entirely new status quo in a very limited amount of literal page space, so you *really* have to have a handle on how you allocate your time and focus.  

Introducing a brand new, lore-heavy heroic character who gets all of the development and dynamic art and pulls focus away from the character you’re meant to be writing is a bad use of a two issue limited series.

Like, this is a crappy Supergirl comic but it’s a great backdoor pilot for a Lynari ongoing, I guess. 

Imagine if in the Jon Superman book, they introduced a random, brand new best friend for Jon, and he got the big character arc instead of Jon. That’s something you save for an arc in an ongoing title, NOT A TWO ISSUE EVENT COMIC.  

Back to said new character, there’s a lot of forced attempts to parallel Kara and Lynari, but Lynari’s backstory is so confusing, rushed, and poorly explained that it’s like: okay, they’re both...angry? And the moon jerks hate them? ...uh. Okay.

(I’m gonna bring back my ��why is this set on the moon, even’ question so that my ‘poor use of space’ header becomes a better joke.) 

PART V - I'M HOLDING OUT FOR A HERO...B/C THERE SURE AIN’T ONE HERE: I’ve already mentioned that Krypto was apparently Kara’s conscience so when Lynari’s aunt arrives to...kill them? (again, everything about Lynari’s backstory is rushed and poorly explained) Kara gets real mad and basically pulls a Gothel: ‘You want me to be the bad guy? Fine! Now I’m the bad guy.’ But thank goodness Lynari is there to tell Kara no! Don’t murder the giant aunt eel! Lynari then steals Kara’s powers and gives up the swamp jewel that’s been hidden inside their body and now their aunt is less murder-y!

WOW. Couldn’t even give the big damn hero moment to Kara in her own book, huh?

So the day is saved. It takes Kara a while to regain her powers, and it’s only then, when she’s no longer ‘above’ the moon jerks, that they’re like, ‘oh, we like her!’ There is a bit of narration about how that attitude is awful. But that narration is provided by Lynari. See, the inner monologue is no longer Kara’s thoughts, but rather it has switched to Lynari’s point of view. They’re telling us this story. And do you know why?

PART VI - WHY THIS COMIC *SUCKS*: KARA DIES. SHE’S THE FRIGGIN’ ‘SECOND GRAVE’ OF THE TITULAR ‘TWO GRAVES’

Fudge this comic to heck.

See, Kara dies on the moon, presumably of old age. She’s buried next to Krypto. And this random character who we’re suddenly supposed to care about tells us her story. Not Clark. Not the Danvers. Not Brainy. Not even one of the supporting cast members from her solo title. No one from Kara’s life is mentioned at all, save for Jon and Clark, and they’re pretty much relegated to flashbacks of Kara punching them. 

PART VII - TIME TO COMPARE DEATHS, I GUESS: First and foremost can I just say that I hate that’s a sentence that I’m typing about Kara in the year of our lord, 2021. But okay: Kara’s big famous death in Crisis stopped the entire DC universe cold. Everyone paused in the middle of the destruction of the multiverse to mourn her loss and honor her (GENUINELY HEROIC) sacrifice. Clark and Barbara--two established characters with a strong connection/relationship to Kara--offered lovely eulogies. 

This one: Kara gets to die of old age in obscurity after a lifetime of striving to be recognized and only achieving it by de-powering and serving a population of jerks. 

Not the warm and fuzzy ending you think it is!

(Meanwhile, Clark lives for millennia and spawns an entire dynasty of Els, all of ‘em out there, protecting the cosmos. I was looking forward to House of El in the hopes of maybe seeing some Kara stuff but NOPE. Thanks to Superwoman, we’re probably not gonna see any future Kara stuff beyond this! G R E A T)

And like, the argument could be made that this ending makes Kara happy. This is the life she chooses! She wants to be alone and garden on the moon! Except, we get zero insight from Kara regarding the remainder of her life. We only have Lynari’s narration and some montage shots...nearly all of which focus on other characters. But honestly, even if we did get Kara’s side of things, I doubt it would shed much light on her feelings, bEEECAUSE...

PART VIII - SUPER BLAND: This Kara really has no personality outside of ‘detached and vaguely bitter.’ I like Sauvage, I think she’s an incredibly talented artist, but here, Kara is stiff and her expression often reads as aloof. She’s very pretty, but it comes at the expense of being expressive. (And I know Sauvage can do expressive stuff...because Lyanari gets to be expressive.) Like...I love that shojo manga vibe but this is a Kara devoid of spark and warmth. 

...Like...Melissa Benoist’s portrayal of Kara is right there... 

I’ve already sort of touched on this but her inner monologue doesn’t have much personality either. She’s just parroting the same, ‘I need to do as Krypto taught me!’ nonsense for both issues. Until, of course, we shift to Lynari’s narration, and lose Kara’s thread entirely. 

PART IX - LET’S WRAP THIS UP: This book frustrates me to no end because it had a lot of stuff going for it. It’s got a female writer and artist--still a rarity for the Supergirl book--it’s a limited series mostly free of continuity and character baggage, and it’s not tied down to the grimdark cyberpunk stuff happening in the Gotham books. YOU COULD’VE DONE ANYTHING. And, once again, DC goes with a pitch that’s: Kara is angry, Kara resents Clark...and Kara dies.

It’s also happening...right as Kara has no dedicated ongoing title, the movie’s been shelved, the TV show is entering its sixth and final season, and all promotion has shifted to new CW and HBO shows. 

*screams into the void* 

MAAAAAAN I hate this book. I hate that it retroactively makes me hate the Andreyko run a little bit--a run that I took to be about a traumatized young woman forced to confront her grief, and who leans on a beloved animal companion for comfort. Here, Krypto is L I T E R A L L Y the reason Kara’s not constantly frying folks with her heat vision. 

I hate that this book has made me use the word ‘literally’ so much in this rant.

I hate that this could possibly be more in continuity than Millennium.

Remember Millennium? Where Kara was in like...five pages? And she was warm, and kind, and promised to help Rose because it was the right thing to do, and oh yes, WAS PRESIDENT OF EARTH?!??! AND A CLASSY OLD LADY!?!?!?!?! WHO WAS STILL ALIVE AND KICKIN’ IN THE FAR FLUNG FUTURE!?!?!?!?!

I hate that I’m using my lunch hour to rant about how much I hate this comic.  

I hate that DC editorial seems hell-bent on erasing the interesting aspects of Kara’s character to sand her down to ‘the angry one’ or ‘Batman 2.0′

PART X - LET’S END ON SOME (?) POSITIVES: Don’t read this book! Don’t do it! Don’t waste your time and money!

Instead, check out ANYTHING ELSE. If you want mom!Kara, read Tom Taylor’s ‘Last Daughters of Krypton’ in the DC Nuclear Winter special. If you want heroic oldlady!Kara, read Millennium. Honestly? Pick up anything by Bendis that has Supergirl in it. It is miles away better than this. You want angry Kara working through her grief? Andreyko, Red Lantern, even Infected. ANYTHING BUT THIS. HECK, grab Superman of Metropolis instead! That has bad Kara characterization but at least she doesn’t end up dead. 

Anyways. This comic is bad. I wish it wasn’t! And this is now the SECOND TIME IN A ROW that Kara’s book ends on a terrible note before the character disappears from monthly comics for an unknown period of time.  

*screams into the void again*