#i've actually had people argue with me about it. like they'll make the comment and i'll say actually it's really hard for me

[notjanine]

over the last few years, since i came back out into the world, i've had a lot of people tell me that they're impressed by how Naturally Good With People i am, that i'm a People Person, and that's a good trait to have for my future career. and yes, that is good for what i want to do, but i am very much not naturally good with people. i'm autistic and i have had to work very hard to develop that skill and practicing it is extremely draining.

i hate terms like "masking" and "camouflaging" bc they make it seem like i'm hiding part of myself to adapt to the neurotypical world, and i'm not. i'm no more hiding myself than you would be by speaking a second language. and like learning a new language, it is possible to be good at it, become fluent, embrace immersion and thrive in an environment that is not yours. but maybe it will never feel natural, maybe it will never be comfortable, maybe you will always long for someone else to speak to you in your mother tongue, even if it's just to say Hey, i see you. but people care so little about us that they don't even try to see things from our perspective, let alone try to meet us where we are. it's the profound irony of being autistic, that we're the ones accused of being cold and lacking empathy, while also being expected to constantly adapt to unnatural social dynamics that may make us deeply uncomfortable, without any attempt at understanding or empathy from the other side.

so anyway, i get evaluated at the end of every rotation for this internship, so i just keep getting hit with this Good With People stuff and i know they mean it as a compliment, and i do want to do well and practice the skills i need to be a professional, but. it still stings every time someone assumes it's just an innate part of who i am and not a never-ending series of extremely stressful and exhausting things that i have to choose to do.

[leam1983]

Vulnerability

A friend referred me to Moon's video essay on Taxi Driver, but Moon is one of those YouTubers who's trying especially hard to make Right-leaning intellectualism palatable.

As you can imagine, it's about as digestible as a plate of fresh arugula seasoned with concrete chunks.

Taxi Driver is something of a record of the woes of the Post-Vietnam Man, in essence. Travis Bickle is a taxi driver, and like all cab drivers in fiction, is depicted as being chronically dissatisfied and aching for a chance to matter to someone. He spends the movie forging connections, swallowing defeats and battling with his obvious PTSD, and ultimately breaks down into a Fascist's idea of a rebel, having come to the conclusion that strength is claimed - forcefully, if need be - and that Society is inherently weak.

The comments went about as you'd expect. Some drew parallels between Bickle and Incels, others claimed that Bickle emerged in a position of strength and that the world, generally speaking, had gone soft. Scroll down a tad and you find people who dance around absurd goalposts, all but suggesting that they'll only find their true masculine selves the moment Society collapses and that they're allowed to go back to pointing guns at people for a living.

This isn't the first time that I've heard that men are not "given" purpose in modern Society, not the first time I've bumped into media that depicts men as functionallly meaningless (e.g. Barbie), and especially not the first time I've seen people whinge and moan while generally missing the point about Life.

Another fun movie about self-actualization is Terminator 2: Judgment Day. In it, a machine learns why humans cry, a boy realizes that he isn't tethered to pre-forged chains of perceived destiny and a woman learns to find hope in a seemingly hopeless world. There's one leading axiom in the Terminator franchise, one which Cameron and Mostow and most of the other directors to have worked on it tend to squander.

There is no fate but what we make for ourselves.

Apply this to Masculinity as a concept, then. Can you, as an individual, determine the fate of Men as a gestalt? Of course not. Castlevania's Dracula is wrong about men; most of them aren't a miserable pile of secrets - most of them are secrets revealing themselves with time and application.

If you feel directionless in life, gender be damned - pick up a book. Pick up a hobby. Talk to people. Go back to class. Life gives us a baker's dozen different means to find ourselves, and nobody's going to honestly give you a meaning for your own life or a sense of purpose on a silver platter. Those that claim to be able to do so are boldfaced liars, grifters and conmen.

Bickle chooses his lot in life, at the end of the movie. You could argue, then, that he chooses poorly - which none of us are shielded against. Men are not weak, women are not expected to adhere to meekness or submission. Instead, Meaning is something that is sought after, if proper steps are taken. Meaning never finds you. You find it.

[incarnateirony]

For those wondering if the die-hard antis will finally pack it in if we get canon Destiel in a way even they can't deny--I wouldn't hold my breath. If they are forced to accept canon Destiel they'll just make up some bogus reason for why it is 'homophobic, achsually', just like they did with Cas's confession and with Carlos.

It's the sunk cost fallacy. These people have created a whole identity and a community, such as it is, around hating Destiel. They will never, ever reconsider. As for canon, let me tell you: I come from a het ship fandom where the couple kissed on the mouth on screen and the antis were writing thinkpieces about why it was a 'friendly kiss', or a 'kiss of gratitude'. So even if the coconuts do collide, brace yourself, cause even that won't be enough.

What I'm trying to say is, let's make our win what we can get on TV, not what we can get the antis to admit, cause that's a lost cause. Let them wallow in their crackpot theories and metas and just enjoy TW :)

Tale as old as time. Whether that be the No Romos of X Files Mulder and Scully that platsplained their marriage and kid; the raging homophobes arguing with the memory of Diana Ross and the drag queens that inspired her about what I'm Coming Out is "actually about" in the youtube comments TO THIS DAY, and so on.

It's a goalpost--and frankly, dogwhistle even within "shipping fandom", some true bitters and others manipulators like 2po and their groups with the agenda in your ask--that I've warned about for many years.

In many ways, it's already been run out. Names like 2po, or jess of Mary Sue, that pretended to be so very in the know. Yelled I was delusional, claimed they had better access to Bobo to know his intent than I did (Jess.) But I could spend a week listing the reasons I knew what I knew was Real and a Fact no matter what they screamed, and not be done. And it was real.

They spent that time revving old shippers into attacking-down their low visibility text, making up some fandom noise rule that, if it isn't so loud it can't be argued with (imaginary point), it's subtext, and anything low visibility was "settling"--an attack whistle used to send hellers at me when I said Berens was putting his best faith work in for us, and even if he couldn't run it, to respect what he pushed and weaved through into textual canon, even if quiet.

After all, he almost quit season 14. Wayward was toast, his contract was rolling. He only signed again shortly after Ouroboros, maybe within a month. Because he'd been convinced to stay even while Yockey burned out and left an empty throne, to run that ball on a spiral someone recognized his endeavors on and further sort of mapped the way. On a gift. To a friend. To ride that spiral till the end so we might go where no one had been.

Covid crashed many dreams, including his second sprint. But not everybody gave up. But all those years, this whole damn time, this forged mistruth about the authors. These lies and filth and biases that buried this, and continued to bury this. The propaganda that spews from 2po to make, say, hellers feel like they're the second class citizens now.

But even by the end of SPN, we had all but won without covid giving Singer time to jam the game. Berens had the rest of the room with him. And even when we scraped our knees we got the most unlikely ally imaginable. A jensen ackles that couldn't sleep, couldn't let go, couldn't move on. a jensen ackles that knew dean winchester's story wasn't done, and was now deeply haunted by the way things ended with Castiel. He'd had his own enlightening, staring a universe-shaking performance in the face and adding the pieces together. And Jensen Ackles... 404ed and forgot his lines, barely muttered anything adjacent to the script, and wept on the floor. And into the winter.

And this entire time. People are still tearing him apart. Even as he hires the most powerful possible LGBTQ advocate to run his entire company, someone the president of WB even fears, able to unleash all of the gays of DC on the WB with a trigger pull, if Glen Winter isn't enough to back them down in general. Not that there IS a "them", because Zaslav's management leaves Jensen and Renee in charge.

That old world is gone. Big scary network and studio changes happened but we're still here, no matter what false prophet doomsayers said. And the gays have the reigns and there's nobody to tell them to stop, and jensen's the one slapping the horse on the ass now and telling Robbie to ride faster.

For those that really have foraged out the truth of transitions in the last 4 years or so, it's clear as a bell what's going on. But people like those you describe thrive on relevance created by people being compelled to argue them in mass, rather than laugh them off for absurdity. They did it with Mulder and Scully and they're doing it here in the middle of The Great Destiel Sprint, all from imagined perspectives in their minds.

These perspectives have failed them again, and again, and again, but like you said, they don't course correct. Sunken cost. And that cost is that, they have years of sins against them. It's not even just about the ship. These people spent millions, these people sent threats and shards and weapons to people, they've doxxed actors and fans and entire servers alike and felt righteous about it. And in the end when it Is What Is Is, even if they were to accept it HAPPENED.

The ability to process the meaning after--and that they are, in fact, the Akrida, and the unwanted locusts being flushed out--that'll just join the mountain of other things under the rug, with each person setting their embarrassment tolerance threshold of how stupid thy'll make the long term no romo arguments. Even as the showrunners constantly remind you the old series was bromance but THIS one is romance. It says it on the tin. And the posters. And the promos.

I have a feeling a bunch WILL leave, because some will hit their limit on how stupid they're willing to present them as in public. I expect a bunch of them to end up ripping each other apart, then it'll settle and the sad, sad last stragglers will make whatever new mewling sounds of denial, but we won't hear the starving strays, they're getting trampled by the clown parade worse than mufasa in the gorge.

[toonabby]

Welp... (#FireDavidZaslav)

I never though of making this, but a few hours ago, Coyote Vs Acme, the most highly anticipated movie to come out the Looney Tunes, has been shelved and would not be releasing at all.

When I heard this I was confused and disappointed: "Why would they cancel this movie?" I thought to myself. "Oh right, TAXES and MONEY!" I was already aware of Zaslav's mistreatment of animation but this made me sad in particular considering that the movie was completed by the time it was cancelled.

All of those animators that have put their sweat and guts into this film for over two years. Gone. By contrast, the universally-reviled Velma got green light for a second season, while 2023's The Flash not only somehow survived cancellation, but also kept Ezra Miller - who had a lot of criminal activity throughout 2022 - as the titular character in spite of the potential legal trouble they'll get for having a convicted criminal in a role of a mainstream film, let alone still continue acting.

As I said in a comment on a YT video, any hope I had with WB and especially Zaslav is pretty much gone. Hell, I would argue that any hope I had with this year is gone. Between the abysmal beginning (the aforementioned Velma, the career-destroying scandals of Justin Roiland and Elliot Gindi, with the latter having only stared voiced acting for five months before the allegations came out, and the widespread, messy but otherwise pointless Hogwarts Legacy drama), the doubling down of Hollywood and especially WB's maltreatment of animation, several formally revered people getting exposed left and right, and tech giants making inane decisions, most notable Elon's takeover of Twitter and Reddit's API Changes, its honestly not a hyperbole or an exaggeration to say I despise this year. Not to an extent of 2020, but still pretty bad, and 2023 sucking was something I've been genuinely dreading when December of last year came.

And speaking of last year, this day marks the unfortunate first anniversary of the controversy DeviantArt got into when they decided to implement AI into their platform known for art made by actual people, NOT machines. Is every Nov. 11 going forward gonna have a company screwing over their audience and employees?

If there's one silver lining to this devastating situation, it's that the producers of said film would be able to watch it on private screenings next week. That, and the potential content leaks of said film.

At this rate, WB is dangerously close to becoming the ActiBliz of animation - a company full of greedy scumbags who take delight in screwing over their audience and their people.

To close this post off, I will no longer be supporting WB and its related content from now on (at least legally). I'll be removing my profile off of HBO Max (or rather Max) and deleting the service on my TV. I'll also remove every video from the Cartoon Network YouTube channel off my watch history even though they had nothing to do with this situation, I just don't like associating myself with a scummy company regardless of how I feel about the products themselves. That obviously doesn't mean I automatically hate anything by WB nor do I want to remove them from my history, I'm just saying is that I don't want to support anything by WB if that means I'm profiting of from the company. I'll also delete/private my fan art commemorating the company's centennial, because as I said before, I'm not respecting a company that treats its own works like disposable tools while giving other works a slap on the wrist in spite of their abysmal quality. Talk about double standards...

TL;DR: WB cancels a film that has already been completed and everyone is restoring to pirating their content, including me.

EDIT: Okay, changed my mind. I'm ONLY going to delete everything from JUST Warner Bros., the company, not the products they own. That doesn't mean I WON'T be deleting anything that celebrates the company though.

EDIT 2: Even though I'm not supporting WB anymore, I'm keeping my 100th anniversary post (at least on this site) for "archival/historical" purposes.

[tb-gerschutz]

Chapter Four

Word Count: 6,540

Trigger Warning(s): language, graphic depictions of violence

Summary: "Rocky" and Whiskey get more info about Balor's plans and barely escape with their lives.

**********

It didn't take long for Whiskey and I to get to Yekaterinburg, but it felt like forever to me. Maybe because I had a possible fracture in my ankle, and it hurts like a bitch. I'm not sure. All I know is two things.

One, that I was fucked if I dare to wait to get this ankle fixed up, and

Two, that Whiskey and I were finally seeing each other in a new light.

Once we arrived at the base, both of us had to come up with a genius plan to get inside. What that plan was, I didn't know. Mainly because I wasn't familiar with this base and its inner workings, nor was I familiar with any tactics that would get us successfully snuck inside. Whiskey, however, was excellent in that field. He knew almost every trick in the book, which worked to our advantage. And it was to Balor's disadvantage.

"So how do we get in?" I questioned.

Whiskey pondered for about a minute, stroking his jawline with his hand. "We can either hop in shipping containers and be stowaways until we get inside, or we can sneak into the back of one of these trucks and attack them as we go in."

"I think the shipping containers are a good idea. Less of a risk for us."

While the soldiers' attention was diverted, Whiskey and I managed to hop into an open crate and shut the lid on top of us. None of the soldiers found out about us, which was good. Our plan was going smoothly so far.

In the tiny and dark place, I soon became claustrophobic. It didn't help that I could barely see Whiskey, so panic set in. It was so cramped inside that crate that Whiskey and I could feel each other's hot breaths. We were practically playing a much tinier, much crazier version of Twister in that crate because we could barely move. We were practically sitting as close as we could, sometimes even resting our legs and arms on top of each other. Our faces were inches away from one another. One sudden jerk, and our lips could accidentally—but, in our case, deliberately—lock. I wouldn't complain if it happened, but I doubt it'd actually happen the way I'd think.

"As soon as this thing gets dropped off, we jump out with our weapons drawn, just in case they're right there waiting for us," Whiskey whispered.

"You sure my glocks are gonna be powerful enough?"

"Of course they'll be enough. We just need weapons that'll scare 'em," he whispered back.

The crate jolted around for a bit before Whiskey and I heard some commotion outside of the crate. It was soldiers carrying said container to a certain place in the agency.

"This bitch is heavy," one of them said in a thick Russian accent.

"Don't be such a pussy, Karamazov," the other argued back. "It ain't much heavier than what we usually deal with."

Whiskey and I kept our mouths shut, making damn sure that we didn't make any sudden noise that might tip the enemies off. One syllable that slipped from our tongues, and we were suddenly on a long, winding path toward "Fuckedville". Luckily, we were safe after the enemies set us down in the base and walked away. Slowly and cautiously, Whiskey and I lifted the lid to the container and slowly rose up, our weapons drawn and loaded. I had both glocks in my hand, while Whiskey had one hand on his pistol and another on his whip.

"Boy, was that a tight pinch," I remarked.

"Trust me, sugar. That was nothin'. I've been in much tighter places than this," Whiskey commented. "Figuratively and literally."

Though I couldn't believe Whiskey when he said that, I had bigger things to worry about. Getting more information about this antidote and what it does. How does it hurt people? Well, hopefully, I can get that answer relatively soon before more people die at the hands of Satan himself. And by Satan, I mean...Balor.

I mean it literally when Balor is known as "Satan". In the Hellhound Corps, a division of the bigger and powerful Rings of Hellfire empire, everyone is named after a different name associated with Hell. The name of Satan went to Balor because he was big, all-powerful, and maliciously ruthless and homicidal. Some of his henchmen were named after hellhounds and their name variations, and the more higher-up associates had the privilege of getting the nicknames that were considered variants of the "Satan" moniker.

But they had to earn their fixed Satan nicknames.

According to Balor's complex and evil guidelines, it all depended on how many you kill and how loyal you are to him.

The more you kill, the more loyal you are to me. And the more loyal you are to me, the higher in the ranks you climb, Balor's words echoed.

God, those words sent chills down my spine. So much so that it made me shudder. No, Rocky. Don't stray. You must stay focused. You must. Stay. Focused.

Whiskey and I hopped out of the shipping container and ventured off to more unknown territory. Our weapons were still drawn, just in case any enemy soldiers discovered us. Our goal...to get to a file room and find something that remotely said something about this antidote. I was willing to look for anything, really. Anything at all will do.

"Okay, sugar. Let's start rummaging and see what we can find," Whiskey said as soon as we got to the file room.

And I was off with a bang, scouring through the alphabetically organized files with disoriented effort. As soon as I didn't find a file that didn't contain what I wanted, I tossed it. Let's hope that Balor blames the mess on his colleagues and not me. However, my wait was not long. As soon as I found a file that remotely contained the words Oracle, global genocide, large-scale weapons, and antidotes, I kept them, stuffing them in the waistband of my pants until I could reach my backpack.

"Really? The waistband of your pants?" Whiskey commented.

I gave him a glare of disgust. "You try finding a better place when you don't have a backpack on you."

I looked around for an item that would hopefully hold these files easily. "Isn't there like a satchel or somethin' I can stuff this in?"

Whiskey didn't even rummage through the mess for twenty seconds before he found a black satchel made of leather. "How about this black leather one?"

"That'll do," I said, grabbing it from his hand and starting to stuff the retrieved files in.

After I stuffed the last file in the satchel, I heard a series of voices emerge from outside in the hallway. Footsteps came closer to Whiskey and I's location by the minute, which gave me a new sense of panic.

"Someone's coming," I said.

Whiskey started to internally panic as he looked for a secret floor hatch to hide in. "Quick! Get in here."

After he propped the door open, I hopped in, being careful not to fracture my ankle more than it already was. Whiskey then hopped in and shut the door on top of us, making sure that it was tightly shut and nobody saw the hatch door cracked. The door to the file room opened, and Balor and some of his henchmen entered, seeing the huge mess that I mainly created.

"Who did this?" Balor asked angrily in Russian. "Get someone in here to clean this up!"

One of the henchmen went off to fetch a lower-level henchman to clean up the mess. It gave Balor and two of his henchmen to pace the room, ultimately giving me and Whiskey the information we needed about The Oracle. Me and Whiskey watched through the cracks above us in the floor as Balor unknowingly gave away his secrets.

"Is everything prepared for the Masquerade Ball tonight?" he asked.

"It sure is, boss," one of the henchmen responded.

"Good. I don't want any of those Kingsman agents coming after me. This is a huge affair, and if they come and storm the Bastille, then we lose a lot of money and benefactors."

Everything fell silent, and Whiskey and I made sure that we didn't make a sound. Not even a sound of us breathing heavily.

"I wonder what the other one might think of this plan of ours," Balor pondered.

"The other one, sir?"

"Of course," Balor simply said.

I gave Whiskey a confused glance only for a brief time. "The other one? What could he mean by th–"

Whiskey cupped his hand over my mouth and prevented me from speaking any more, while from above, Balor stopped and looked around for the noise that came from my whispers. I hope that he doesn't find Whiskey and myself here in this secret hatch.

"Did you hear that?" he asked his henchmen.

Still keeping his hand over my mouth, Whiskey stayed silent. Dead silent. That way, he and I weren't discovered. This went on for only a few minutes, despite it feeling like forever. After a while, Balor and his men gave up and exited the room, giving me and Whiskey time to get out and escape. Whiskey removed his hand from over top of my mouth and popped open the hatch.

"Is the coast clear?" I asked as Whiskey struggled to get up out of the hatch.

"I can't tell, sugar. It's gonna be a bitch to get out of here," Whiskey responded, trying to jump up and out of the hatch to no avail.

I knelt down and cupped my hands, placing them out as an offer for Whiskey. "Here. I'll give ya a boost."

"You sure?"

"Of course I am. I'll give ya a boost, and then, you can hoist me out," I said confidently.

Whiskey placed his foot into my hands, and I boosted him up. After he escaped out of the hatch, Whiskey turned to me and grabbed my hand. Using everything in his physical power, he hoisted me up to the ground floor. I hobbled toward Whiskey, still dealing with the fractured ankle of mine.

"Are you sure you're okay, sugar? You're hobblin' quite a bit," he said, becoming concerned with my safety.

"Trust me, Whiskey. I'll be fine 'til we get outta the woods here."

As soon as Whiskey and I stepped into the hallway of the facility, an alarm started to blare loudly throughout the building. It definitely threw a wrench into our plan.

"Oh, fuck me!" I screamed.

Whiskey tried to open his mouth, but I managed to catch what he was saying. "Don't even say a word. I know what you're gonna say, and it ain't gonna happen now."

We were frozen with fear as Balor and his men kept getting closer to us. As each second went by, they were closer. I then got a brilliant but stupid idea that I hoped would work. "Hey, Whiskey."

"Yeah?" he asked.

"You know how to operate aircraft?" I asked him.

He shrugged. "I've only ever operated the Silver Pony, but I guess the aircraft here aren't too complicated to figure out."

"More experience than I have," I said to myself, then turning to Whiskey. "Get me an aircraft and get it ready to get us the hell outta here."

"Got it," he said. "What are you going to do?"

I cracked my knuckles and popped my severely broken ankle back into place again. I was preparing for a fight. A fight that I'd definitely win. Thanks, confidence.

"I'm gonna fight 'em off and buy ya some time."

"Rocky, this is no time to be playin' Charlie Horse with these guys. You have a broken fuckin' ankle," Whiskey sternly warned.

I gave him a cocky, crooked smile. "Trust me. I'll catch up. Just get a chopper or somethin' ready for us."

He sighed as he dashed off. "If you say so, sugar."

Whiskey dashed off to the hangar to find an aircraft to hijack, while I stayed in the hallway to fight off Balor and his men. Sure, the pain in my ankle was God awful, but adrenaline had given me enough cocky confidence to fight these terrorists off. One by one, I fought off the henchmen, burying my fists into their skulls and making sure they were knocked unconscious. If not, dead. Taking them down took a lot less time than I thought it would, and it gave me more time to escape and try to meet up with Whiskey again.

As I rounded the corner to get to an exit, I came face-to-face with him. Balor himself. He had short, jet-black hair and a black mustache. Perfect for that presumably black, stone-cold soul of his. But what stood out to me most other than his dabber sense of fashion was his eyes. His brownish-black eyes. They were soulless, cold...I looked at them, and deep down inside Balor, I saw nothing. He was a soulless, cruel, and horrible man. No wonder he dabbles in murder almost every other day. He doesn't feel pain. Rather, he inflicted it, only because he enjoys seeing other people suffer in front of his very own eyes. He was a monster, and I knew it.

We stood only about ten feet away from each other, staring each other down and not moving an inch. I intended on standing my ground against this asshole terrorist, while he probably was thinking the same thing about me. He wasn't going to budge for a rebellious agent like me. He's too powerful and smart to do so.

"Neither of us are budgin', eh?"

"I intend on sneaking in for the kill once you're vulnerable, Agent" Balor sneered evilly.

"I have to warn ya. I'm not that easy to beat down," I said, holding my arms out to my sides and pretty much inviting Balor to come at me. "Come on. Why don't ya give it your best shot, asshole?"

Balor took off the jacket of his tuxedo, then rolled up the sleeves on his black, button-down shirt. After he cracked his knuckles, he lunged at me and tried to grab my throat. I avoided it rather quickly, and the fight was on. We only grappled with each other, so no punches were landed, despite the both of us throwing plenty to count. Every time he tried to go for my throat, I'd grab his wrist and throw it to the side, causing him to flip at least once in the air and falling onto his tailbone. He kept getting up, despite the brutal beatings I gave him. After a long while of battling with him, I ended up kicking him in his knee, even though it hurt my already fractured ankle a lot more.

It did give me time to escape, however.

I wasn't as fast as I usually was, but I managed to keep a ten-second head start ahead of Balor all the way to the hangar. There was Whiskey, who was lowering a whole-ass helicopter to be only a few feet off the ground. I had no time to react as Balor kept getting closer to riding my ass, so I hopped into the chopper and laid on the ground there, catching my breath. Whiskey did the rest by flying the chopper away from the base. Far away to hopefully a safe place.

"You good back there, sugar?" he asked from the cockpit.

"I'm fine," I answered back. "Just had to catch my breath.

I hobbled to the passenger seat in the cockpit, and Whiskey took one glance at me before focusing on the sky ahead.

"Once we land, can you please go get that ankle checked out before you hurt yourself more than you already did?"

"Yeah. It wouldn't hurt to have someone look at it," I said.

At that moment, I had to finally accept the fact that I was hurting. If I didn't get help soon, I'll be fucked. At least it made it all better when an image of Balor's face flashed into my head. He was pissed. A homicidal kind of pissed. He was mad that he didn't get what he wanted: to capture me and Whiskey and kill us. I'm relieved to say that it won't be happening to us.

* * * * * * * * * *

Whiskey landed the chopper at a secret facility in Samara, Russia after a while. After successfully landing the aircraft on the landing pad, he immediately and gently scooped me up into his buff arms, carrying me so that I didn't have to put any more weight on my severely damaged ankle. My heart was pounding hard. So hard that I could feel the heartbeat in my throat. Despite me trying to keep my feelings of Whiskey hidden from the public eye, there's always one anomaly that drags them back up to stay afloat.

"Welcome, Agents. I'm Director Daria Volkova. I'm the head of the Samara facility, a part of several that belong to the Romanov Agency," the woman said.

Whiskey nodded and smiled, having his hands completely compromised because of me. "Nice to meet ya, Director. Sorry about the unexpected welcome from the United States, but it was a bit of an emergency."

"What seems to be the issue?"

"Well, Agent Blackjack here seems to have a fractured ankle, and we want to get it checked out before we get back into action," Whiskey explained.

"It's broken pretty badly. I'm afraid if I try to pop it back into place again, the bone will eventually poke out of the skin," I added.

The director led us inside the facility. "Don't worry. We'll get you a doctor to check you out. Right this way."

Whiskey carried me into the facility, where we were soon led into a medical room that was a lot fancier and bigger than I've ever seen before. Then again, I hadn't been in a hospital or anything remotely close since my youngest brother Shane's birth, so it's been a couple years.

"You doing good, sugar?"

"Surprisingly, I am," I responded, "considering the circumstances and all."

"Considering," Whiskey said.

The doctor then walked in and immediately took notice of me and Whiskey. The only thing that stood out about him was that he was young and had a chiseled jawline similar to Balor's. He had the same jet-black hair and facial hair like Balor, but the doctor had caramel, brown eyes and a nice smile. No doubt that I trusted this doctor more than I did the monster known as Balor Devlin.

"Hi, agents. I'm Doctor Aliev. I'm the head doctor here at this branch of the Romanov Agency," he introduced in a decently thick Russian accent. "You two don't look like you're from around here."

"We're from the United States," Whiskey remarked. "We work for the Statesman."

The doctor glanced up and down at Whiskey and I, allowing his face to light up with joy and relief.

"Ah, the Statesman. We've always had a good relationship with them. They treat us well, we treat them well. It's a mutual alliance in a way."

I shrugged. "Any chance you're in the fight against Balor Devlin?"

"No. Not at all. We're here to remain neutral and keep track of the threat. If he attacks us, then we fight back," the doctor explained. "We're just trying to keep out of this fight as much as possible."

Dr. Aliev looked at the chart on his clipboard and got back to business. "So what can I do for you two? I can't imagine this is just a normal check-up."

"Well, Doc, I definitely have a fractured ankle," I remarked. "It's so bad that I'm afraid if I pop it back into place again, the bone is gonna protrude out of the skin."

"What were you doing when the ankle fractured?"

"We were retreating back to a wood cabin Agent Whiskey and I considered a temporary sanctuary," I explained. "We were trying to find out more about Balor Devlin's weapon, and a second wave of Balor's soldiers found us. Whiskey and I retreated to regroup and come up with a new plan."

"Can you put weight on your ankle at all?" the doctor asked.

"I used to be able to," I explained. "Only a little bit after the initial injury happened."

Whiskey decided to chime in. "We were inside the cabin catching our breaths, and I asked her if she could put weight on it. She stood up and tried to, but she almost immediately collapsed."

"So we're looking at a possibly severe ankle break here," Dr. Aliev concluded, writing down some notes. "We'll get some x-rays on your ankle and see how severe of a break this is and how long you'll need to be out of action."

"I hope it ain't long," I chirped.

I got wheeled off to get the x-ray on my ankle, and Whiskey was right there at my side. I was more than okay with it. He gave me a sense of trust and security, making sure I was protected and safe at all times. He didn't have to go out of his way to protect me. He did it entirely out of voluntary obligation, which I appreciate.

"Alright, Agent. I just need you to stay still while the x-ray gets a picture of your ankle," Dr. Aliev said, fixing the x-ray's position to be more toward my ankle.

I tried to relax and stay still, but I guess the nerves got the best of me. Luckily, Whiskey noticed my nervousness and grabbed my hand, stroking it with the pad of his thumb. He was gentle with it, which made me fall for him all over again.

That's the thing with Whiskey. Just when I've already fallen for him, he gives me another good reason to fall in love all over again. He makes damn sure that you're constantly swooning over him...and I was no exception.

"Alright. Great job, Agent. We'll get the x-ray developed and let you know of the results relatively soon hopefully," the doctor said.

"Thank you, Doc," I said, as the doctor exited the room after wheeling me back to where I was staying.

The doctor leaving was actually good for Whiskey and I. It gave us time to talk about the next phase of this mission. This broken ankle of mine is only a minor setback, and we needed something new just in case everything goes off the rails from here.

"What now?" I questioned.

"We're in a waitin' game, sugar," Whiskey answered, sighing at the unfortunate circumstances that took place. "It's hard to tell how long we have to wait before we can go back out into the field."

"I hope it isn't too long. I'd feel guilty if I'm restricted to bedrest, while you're off fightin' against an asshole like Balor."

Whiskey tightened his grasp on my hand, letting me know that he was serious. "Rocky, I'd much rather have you stay out of action and stay safe than to have you go out there and get even more hurt than you already are. It pains me to see you hurt. Every time you're broken down, I get struck down to your level. I don't want to be so broken that even you can't repair me back to normal."

He paused for a moment to gather his trembling breath. "That's why I can't see you gettin' hurt. I meant what I said back there when I said that I see my high school sweetheart in you. Every time—every time I look at you, I see her. And I can't go through that pain again when I lose you. That's why I'm keepin' you safe, sugar. I don't want to lose you. I'd never forgive myself if you die under my watchful eye. I could never live with that, just like I can't live without you being in my life."

"You're sayin' that I'm important to you?"

"Of course you are," he said. "Even though we're not exactly lovers according to the public eye, I still consider you an essential part in my life. You're the only person that's made me smile and genuinely happy ever since my sweetheart died. That's sayin' somethin'. There aren't many people in this world that make me as happy as you do."

I smiled, but only smiled enough to not show my teeth. I ran my tongue along the inside of my mouth, smirking while doing so. I kept this feeling of desire for Whiskey bottled up and didn't let it erupt out of me.

"How long have you been waitin' to say that?" I asked as I bit the inside of my cheek.

Whiskey kept staring deep into my eyes, seeing straight through my fragile soul. "Too damn long."

After a bit, the doctor walked back in, pinning the pictures from the x-ray up on a light-up mirror. Now, the moment of truth was about to arrive. Was it bad? Was it good? A lot of questions ran through my head faster than a cheetah on crack, and it made me internally panic.

"Okay, Agent. Here's what we got," Dr. Aliev started, pointing at different parts of my ankle. "Here is your tibia, and here is your fibula. Over here is where our issue is. We're looking at a lateral malleolus fracture here, which is a fracture in the bone outside of the ankle joint. In your case, this is one of the less severe ones. Although, these types of injuries can put you out for a long time."

"How long, Doc? Give it to me straight. Don't sugarcoat anythin' for me," I said.

The doctor took a look at his charts, then back to me and Whiskey. "Judging by the break and the risk of any infection spreading, I'd say about six weeks at least."

I sat up quickly, which caused Whiskey to let go of my hand. My blood was coursing madly through my body, which typically happens either when I get an adrenaline rush or I'm about to go off on a crazy tangent.

"You gotta be shittin' me, Doc. Six weeks!?" I exclaimed. "We don't have six weeks!"

Whiskey tried—and failed—to calm me down. "Rocky, calm down. It's just—"

"Don't start with me. I'm about to go on a tangent," I interrupted.

I gathered my breath and started to give my version of a good explanation. I had to be out in the field and help Whiskey take down Balor. "I've worked too damn hard to get to this point. If I'm not out there helping Whiskey crack some ass, Balor's gonna have a heyday with all these innocent people. He'll kill anyone and anything in his path, which means he gets closer to turning Earth into a black, smokin' ball of ash. Only then will he have accomplished his convoluted, downright tyrannical goal of global genocide. So if I'm not out there almost immediately with Whiskey here, you and the entire rest of the world are fucked."

The doctor's face turned into one of shock, mainly because he didn't expect that reaction to come out of me. He still wanted to help me, even though it was against his better judgment to let me wander around free without following the correct recovery guidelines.

"I can give you some painkillers and a splint after we're done with the initial correction of the bone," he said.

"Well, how are we gonna do that? I don't want to pop it back into place again."

"You won't have to," the doctor said. "This is going to require immediate surgery. After that, I'll give you painkillers and an ankle splint so you and Agent Whiskey will be on your way."

I was gobsmacked. Surgery? It has to be that bad in order for me to get surgery. Then again, I need it desperately. If I don't have it, then I put my body at risk for infection, and that would be a whole 'nother problem on top of everything.

"Surgery? What kind of surgery?"

"We'll go in, put some pins in your ankle to straighten out the bone and make sure it's aligned with the rest of your body again. Then, after you wake up, I'll put on a stabilizing ankle splint and prescribe you some painkillers," Dr. Aliev explained. "That's the best thing I can do for you, even though it's against my normal medical judgment."

"Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate it," I said. "Really, I do."

"It's the least I can do for you two."

The doctor then left the room to prepare the operating room for surgery. Almost immediately, I started to panic. So bad that it felt like I was having a panic attack, despite me not knowing for sure if I have a panic attack disorder. My heart once again was pounding rapidly, I was shaking, and my throat tightened up, making me short of breath and hard to breathe. Beads of sweat formed rapidly on my forehead, and I had to constantly wipe them off with my sleeve. Whiskey, who was still right there at my bedside, noticed this and immediately showed his concern.

"You okay, sugar? You're sweatin' like a whore in church," he said.

I tried to speak, but the words kept getting caught up in my tightening throat. "I—I can't—I can't breathe, Whiskey. I'm panicking over this surgery, and I can't fuckin' breathe."

There goes Whiskey again with the firm grasp of my hand. Again, he was serious. "Look at me, sugar. Look. At. Me."

He placed his thumb and index finger under my chin and lifted my face up so I could look at him dead straight through his eyes. The familiar feeling of horniness and desire for Whiskey rose through my body again, but my panic attack symptoms destroyed them almost immediately. I was definitely thirsty for him. At least that's what one part of me said. The other part was panicking wildly over surgery. Something I've never undergone in my life.

"Deep breaths, Rocky. Deep breaths, like these," he said, inhaling and exhaling deeply and slowly.

I followed suit, inhaling and exhaling deeply and slowly. By the minute, my heart rate went back down to normal, and I was no longer sweating profusely. Whiskey calmed me down and made me secure once again. I was finally safe in my own skin again, thanks to him. I'm not sure if he had any experience in dealing with panic attacks, but he helped me through this apparent one of mine. That's for sure.

"That's it," he said. "That's it, sugar."

As I let out a sharp exhale from my breath, I finally calmed down enough to have my nerves stagnant enough to clearly think and process what was about to come.

"Sorry about that, Whiskey. I just never had to undergo surgery before," I finally said.

"Don't you ever be sorry for somethin' like that," he responded. "It's somethin' you've never experienced before. You have every right to be scared and panic over it. But no matter what happens, sugar, I'll be here. I'll be here to settle your nerves and make sure you're comfortable. No matter what goes on, sugar, I'll be here. And I don't ever intend on leavin'."

I gave Whiskey a crooked smile, being satisfied with his response to my apology. I was more than satisfied, as a matter-of-fact. Then again, anything Whiskey does makes me more than satisfied. In fact, it makes me more attracted to him than ever before.

"You're just trying to say anything that makes me fall in love with ya."

Whiskey raised one of his eyebrows, which—in turn—caused one corner of his mouth to point up as well. It was crooked. That damn crooked smile that makes my insides flutter.

"Of course I am. Why? Got a problem with that?"

I scoffed. "Why would I have a problem with that? I'm in love with ya, Whiskey, and that ain't ever gonna change."

Whiskey gave me a confused glance, prompting me to elaborate on what I just said:

"I meant what I said back there in the woods. I do love you, Whiskey, and I'll always love ya. I first met you in person, and my world—my world turned on its head. And I mean that in the best way possible. I thought it was a mistake when I fell in love with you, but now, I realize that it was the best thing that could've happened to me. You—you, Whiskey—were the best accident that could've ever entered my life."

He was speechless. The words that he tried to say didn't escape off his tongue. Did I finally fluster the cowboy? Did I finally rope him into being madly in love with me? Despite me seemingly knowing everything about Whiskey, the fact on whether or not I finally roped him under my spell eluded me constantly.

"And I meant it when I aggressively kissed ya back there," he responded.

After he said that, Dr. Aliev walked back into the room, telling me that it was time. "Alright, Agent. It's time."

Whiskey and I exchanged a glance, and I gave a nod to the doctor to tell him that I was ready to be wheeled into the operating room. As Whiskey kept a firm hold of my hand while I was getting wheeled in, the doctor took notice of him and tried to follow typical protocol.

"It's okay. He can stay with me up until the operating room," I said, assuring the doctor that it was okay for Whiskey to be at my bedside.

I continued to be wheeled toward the operating room, while Whiskey remained latched onto my hand, not wanting to let go. The doctor stopped me right before the doors to the operating room, and he turned to me with serious yet sympathetic eyes.

"Are you ready, Agent?"

I gave Whiskey a glance—a glance that was highlighted by terrified and tearful eyes—right away. Not lifting his gaze off me, Whiskey brought my hand close to him, kissing it softly. I could feel his hot breath blow onto the skin of my hand, which made me think that he was tempted to do it again. He did not want to let go of me because, as I could assume from earlier conversations, he didn't want to go through the heartbreak of losing the love of his life again. For him, letting go of me was like letting go of my memory for what could be the first and last time. He never wanted to forget me, and I don't believe he has any intention of doing so. Not now. Not ever.

"Yeah. Let's get this done and over with, Doc," I nodded.

Before I was wheeled in, Whiskey leaned in close to me and gave me a soft, drawn-out kiss at the top of my head. I exhaled a shaky breath, knowing that once I was wheeled in there, I might not come back out. But I decided to bury that fear and keep optimism in the palm of my hand...because I knew Whiskey would want me to.

"I love you more than anything, Whiskey. I love you too damn much to ever forget you," I said through tearful eyes, "and I wanted you to know that just in case I don't come back out."

Whiskey started to tear up as well, but he wasn't crying like I was. He was a lot stronger than I was on an emotional level. "Don't say shit like that, sugar. You're a tough, headstrong individual with a bright light that shines everywhere you go...and I just happened to be one of those people who got drawn closer to that light. I know you're gonna make it out of there alive. I just know it. And when you come back out, I'll be waitin'. I'll be waitin' right here for you."

I finally got wheeled into the operating room, as Whiskey and I's hands slowly drifted apart. As his hand left mine, I could still feel his touch on my fingertips, and it comforted me a little to know that Whiskey's spirit would be there for me while I have surgery.

"I love you!" Whiskey shouted to me just before the doors shut.

Almost immediately after I got wheeled in and set underneath that burning white light, the doctor gently plunged the syringe into the outside of my shoulder and started to count down from one-hundred. Every time the number got smaller, I'd slowly drift off from reality. Everything around me slowly went black, as I closed my eyes and fell into a deep, deep sleep. However, the memory of Whiskey still danced around in my head, making me drift into that sleep happier than ever...

* * * * * * * * * *

I was still groggy by the time I woke up from the anesthesia, which meant that I could hear about half the words the doctor said to Whiskey after the surgery ended. Still, I kept my eyes shut because I was still tired as fuck and tried to sleep it off, but that would take a while for me to do.

"So how is she, Doc?" Whiskey asked.

"The surgery went very well," Dr. Aliev responded hopefully, "and I have great reason to believe that she'll make a full recovery relatively soon."

"So she's alive?"

"Of course. She's in her room, sleeping off the anesthesia as we speak," the doctor answered. "I always had hope that she'd survive. Judging by her personality, she's a tough old girl."

"She sure is," Whiskey said, then thinking about me. "So can I see her?"

The doctor started to lead Whiskey back to the room. "Of course."

Meanwhile, I laid in the room, slowly waking up and slipping back into the real world. Everything was fuzzy, as I looked around the room to find something that would bring me comfort. After a while, I looked slightly to my left to find Whiskey, who was sitting there holding onto my hand tighter than ever, his coarse skin gracing my gentle hand.

"Whiskey?" I softly whimpered.

He lifted his head suddenly and saw me giving him the same crooked smile that he always gives me. His gorgeous, glistening brown eyes locked with mine, and everything seemed right in that moment.

"Hey, sugar," he smirked. "How ya doin'?"

I chuckled. "Doin' as good as a limp dick in a whorehouse."

"There she is," he said, letting out a soft chuckle. "My girl's back."

I gave him a confused look. He never called me "his girl" in all the time we've been stuck together. He always called me sugar, Rocky, or Blackjack. So this might just show that we're moving forward with this relationship, which is what the hopeless romantic part of me always wanted.

"I never left," I simply said with confidence.

I took Whiskey's hand and kissed it gently, just like he did before I went under the knife. Everything was right at this moment, with me and Whiskey finally united after my surgery. The only other person I loved—other than those in my immediate family—was at my side, which is what I wanted. What I dreamed of. There was only one thing that comforted me during this painful, long recovery of mine. And that was me finding solace in the one person I trusted.

Whiskey. 

[briankang]

i mean using jae isnt a great thing because he did fucked up continously in the twitch app (the j thing being the last drop to a lot of mydays) and yes it is kinda of fucked up but it is to protect him because the whole ive thing and how stray reacted to it too just fucked him up also like they schedule has been f up he could use this time to rest, is it ideal? no but like jyp this time is actually making him take a step back before something bigger happes (as it did w jae tbh w his whole i dont drink thing and fucked up being sober)

ok lemme. clarify. when studio j stopped making jae stream back in the day, it was really only for that one thing, and possibly some other v small things they didn't like. the jaime thing and his comments about sana on that podcast and everything else weird he was doing and everything didn't happen until much closer to when he left the company entirely/actually did leave, which is why he was being such a piece of shit LMFAO. like there'd really not been much of a problem up until then, and tbh, i've seen a handful of his streams from before he left, and they're perfectly fine! jae had a lot more issues going on than twitch streaming and tbh i'm really not here to talk about him, but like. i'm not here to villainize him over smth like this lmfao, esp when he's doing a lot better now

it's moreso frustrating to me that when we were told chans room was stopping, it was meant to be a break bc of their busy schedule (and who knows, maybe it started that way), but not because the company said to stop, and we'd been opperating on that it'd be coming back idk at least sometime this year. chan's room works a LOT differently and has a much different place in stays lives than i think people realize, so to have that pulled and to hear about it through a fucking fan question IS stupid.

we can argue about this all day but i think the company getting involved in fanwars IS stupid, that shit happens all the time on twitter, and tbh would've died out within a couple days. i think it's kinda fucking funny that a vague, non directed comment was taken personally by a fandom, one that wasn't really even that harsh, and was turned into literal death threats and some of the most evil, vile shit i'd read, which is what chan ALWAYS gets from other fandoms. he can be so kind and compassionate and say the best things about ANYONE but the second he says smth NON DIRECTED about his own feelings (which he blamed himself for during that live, i think people forget that. he thought it was a HIM problem. he didn't even BLAME THE JUNIORS HE WAS TALKING ABOUT) he's devil incarnate. but trust that when they need some defense they'll pull out a clip of him praising their faves. fuck off with that shit LMFAO

[queen-of-my-goofball-army]

Undiagnosed Autism-spectrum disorder in The Michells Vs The Machines

I'm sure that more well educated people have put two and two together in this film but I really, really want to put my own spin on it from my experience. For me, as an aspie, film is one of my biggest interests. I love studying and more than anything I love watching and rewatching films. My latest favorite movie was one that I just watched last night for my family movie night, The Michells Vs The Machines. I also went 17 years of my life asking myself the same question that both Rick and his daughter ask each other, what is wrong with him/her?

Well, I'll tell you, in my firmly undiagnosed autistic opinion for far too long, that this family is full of people with undiagnosed autism spectrum disorder. When I was watching it with my parents my mom made the comment that "the dad was a jerk" and maybe "he just didn't love his daughter enough to let her be her own person." I thought that was so not seeing the bigger picture even though it was only fifteen minutes into the film. I have felt like Katie so much with my own dad. My dad is a computer nerd and a physics major for those of you that don't talk to me very often. That means in laminas terms that he's extremely smart. Way smarter than I will ever be in my entire life. Both of my parents are insanely smart in their own rights. My mom is a CPA accountant. But that isn't what I wanted to talk about here. I want to discuss the effect of undiagnosed autism and what it can do to a whole family when they all have it and just don't know that they do. This will probably go on for quite some time so you may stop here or read below the cut because this also has the probablity of getting super, duper personal.

We'll start with Katie! To me, Katie is one of the most relatable characters that I have ever come across. She's a film nerd, which alone has made her supremely relatable as somebody who is thinking about going into a degree in film studies. I am more of a critic of film than somebody who wants to make her own film but nonetheless, there were SO many little moments that I related to. The first thing that I personally noticed and related to was the stimming technique that Katie has. She chews on her hoodie strings. As somebody who has chewed on the drawstrings of hoodies far too often long before I was officially put into the Aspergers box. Aspies are also known to stick with one "special interest" for the rest of their lives if it's one that is wide enough and varied enough to make it applicable. For Katie, that's film. For me that's animation. I appreciated that little detail of most of her dialogue being references to other films because as a lover of films and movies in general I could go for days on just fumes and movie references that nobody else understands. The little things from her hair being perpetually messy (same that's a whole ass mood like I just learned over quarantine how to tye my own hair back), only having one earring in her ear at all times, the way that she dresses and draws on her own hands, this was just me when I was first in high school. I was one of the few people that wore shorts underneath all my skirts/dresses. Everyone who knew about looked at me like I had grown a third eyeball.

Aaron, the younger brother, also just oozes spectrum lil buddy out of his every pore from his being. I do think that they should have picked somebody capable of doing a bit of a younger sounding voice (I know what they were going for, but like Ben Schwartz has become a huge deal in both voice acting and live action before switching mediums.) His special interest is actually quite a common one, he loves dinosaurs. I've met a bunch of people on the spectrum that are fascinated by dinos and what they meant for the world as well as the universe as a whole. To me, there was one scene specifically that was the scene where Katie was lightly teasing him when they were going to the half assed dinosaur extravaganza. For me, this was SO relatable because both of my parents will mess with me about my interests most of the time it's when we go to Disneyland, they'll tell me that we actually aren't going to land of magic but to Timbuckto (hopefully one day they'll say some place else just to switch things up.) I related so hard to Aaron's protesting and whining in this scene since that is always my reaction to doing something that I want to do but get told that I can't do that thing.

Linda is more of your traditional mom but I think that she's on the spectrum as well. Just a more... normalized version as opposed to her family. She's able to be a teacher, she's able to interact somewhat normally around her neighbors. If anything, she reminded me of my own mom. This independent, takes nobody's trash (especially not her husband's), strong minded, and amazing mother who is completely in control of everything. She knows the special interests of her children and is constantly thinking of what will make them happy. Whether it be taking a detour for something dinosaur related, reminding her daughter that her dad loves her no matter what, and even something as simple as watching something that her daughter made and put her heart and soul into. I can't tell you how many times my mom has watched something with me. She watched my first anime Soul Eater with me when I was 12 and ever since then has been trying to get me to watch other shows with her. She's a lot like Linda, your loving, but firm mother who just wants her family to work things out.

Whew boy. This one is going to be probably where I cry. Comparing my dad to Rick is... something that I did consistently when I was watching the film. He's the strong but silent type usually, unless your me and he's just this constant annoyance when I'm trying to do something. He could be seen as just a "Jerk" but I think that is the undiagnosed aspie talking. Rick and Katie just struggle so hard to see eye to eye because their special interests can't intersect to save their lives. This, this hurt me because so often I struggle to relate to my dad. Especially when he talks to me about computers or physics. Now I took physics but without having been in quarantine and having him as my live in tutor I would have failed, not gotten an A. This has resulted me in saying things that I don't mean in the heat of the moment when we do argue. It doesn't happen nearly as much as it used to back when I was in middle school but when it happened it was because of one thing. I lied. I used to lie a lot because I felt so unworthy of being his daughter because on my best days I am not technically smart. You want to know how many nations of the world there were in 1991 when the original Animaniacs was airing? You want to hear my Dot Warner impression? Did you ever wonder how to recognize a specific voice when your watching anime? Have you ever had to watch a panel of your favorite anime voice actor just to laugh at something? No, well I did. But ever since I have started taking a quarter off from community college I have realized something. I am not technically smart. I struggle at learning the rules for math. My dad can do this with his eyes closed but me, I struggle and look like a complete moron. It took years for my dad and I to see eye to eye. Sometimes I still wonder if I was the product of some laboratory experiment of what would happen if two intelligent people came together, fell in love, and expecting that the daughter was smart I was the reject. Watching this movie with my dad I saw so much of my relationship with him on the screen. Struggling to relate to one another, fighting and getting into arguments about petty things, and not being able to be in the same room as one another without heated words because I didn't get him.

The scene that I related to the most when it was in terms of how much Katie just doesn't understand her dad was after he was nabbed by the machines. When Aaron asked her why she said those things to their dad and her simple answer was "I don't know." This. This right here was when I saw me. So many times I've gotten into heated arguments with my dad when he has simply annoyed me at the wrong time and I've just blown up in his face. Then I regret my actions and not know how to apologize for losing my temper with him because "I don't know" just doesn't seem like a nearly acceptable answer. I felt this in my soul because it happened especially often before I was diagnosed.

When I was diagnosed, things started to get better with my dad and I. We haven't had a fight in nearly four years now. He watches cartoons with me now to try and relate to me, it's mostly Pinky and The Brain but it's more than I could have ever asked for. I love my dad so much, more than anything in the entire world. This movie is so, so good at telling a story about how a family of undiagnosed aspie's and people on the spectrum struggle to relate to one another because their special interests are different.

Special interests and family's are especially difficult and I applaud this movie so loud because of the way that it was able to treat the subject matter with integrity and honesty. I'm sorry if this analysis got a little bit long in the toof but thank you for sticking with me! I really hope that if you watched the film you loved my analysis.

[rowyn-writes]

Cinnamon and Sugar

Chapter Three

Warnings: language, fluff, mentions of a toxic relationship, small angst

Characters: Dean, Reader, Benny Lafitte (mentioned only)

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Dean let you sit in his car until the rain let up a bit. "God, I hate the rain." He grumbled.

"I love it." You whisper, your eyes wandering the parking lot. "When I was younger, and there was a thunderstorm, me and my siblings would make a fort and huddle underneath it together. We loved it when the power would go out. We would light candles and grab flashlights and play board games in the dark. Sometimes Andrew would read to us. But uh - it would be scary stories," You smiled. "He would scare the ever living crap out of us. Lena and Josh would would cuddle into my side, no matter how much I hated it, they would still do it."

"You really love your siblings." Dean noted, swallowing hard, memories of Sam flooding his head.

"I do." You nodded. "They're all I have. Sure, I have my parents, but it's not the same, you know? Growing up, my siblings and I fought like dogs and cats, but we knew each other better than anyone, even our parents. Even when I go months without seeing them, when we all get together, it's like we're still little kids, ya know? We goof around, we argue, we joke. It's like none of us ever grew up."

Dean stayed silent for a moment, and you weren't sure if your message was getting across. "Look, I know we don't know each other very well, but what I'm trying to say is, call your brother. I don't know what happened between you two, but it's obvious that you love him. You shouldn't waste all your time worrying about whether you should contact him first or if he's angry with you. Time is a precious thing and people often waste it."

"Damn, you're wise." Dean gave a quiet chuckle. "But you're right. I will call him soon, I'm just not ready yet." And with that, the Impala was enveloped in silence again. That is, until Dean's stomach let out a loud rumble. "Sorry," He apologized with a sheepish grin.

"Don't worry about it." You shrugged. "It looks like the rains letting up. Do you want to come inside and I can fix you some food?"

"Oh, I don't want to impose." He shook his head.

"Nonsense. You gave me a ride home, this is the least I can do."

Dean silently debated whether or not he should take you up on the offer, but ultimately agreed, seeing as he was starving. By the time you were under cover, you were both soaked.

As soon as you opened the door to your apartment, you were met with a warm blast of heat. A pleasant shiver ran down your spine.

You began to click your tongue, calling out for your moody cat. "Storm, c'mere buddy." Your cat glared at you stubbornly from his place on the window seal. You rolled your eyes, slipping off your jacket and hanging it over the back of the chair.

"Sorry," You apologized to Dean. "My cat's being a little bitch." The man let out a laugh at your comment. "I gave him a bath and clipped his claws yesterday; now he's pissed at me."

"How in the hell do you cut a cat's nails?" He questioned, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Very carefully." You noticed that Dean was shivering. "Let me grab you a towel. I think I have some of my exes clothes. You're about the same size."

He was going to object when you silenced him with a look. You went to your room and began rummaging around in your draws, eventually finding a pair of black sweat pants and a grey hoodie.

"Try this," You said, handing Dean the clothes. "They should fit. You can change in the bathroom; it's the first door on the right."

While Dean went to change, you did the same. You exited your bedroom dressed in a pair of black leggings and a UK sweatshirt.

You noticed that Dean still wasn't out yet, so you went to start some food. You contemplated on what you should cook before ultimately deciding that mac and cheese would do. It was a comfort food, after all.

It would take a bit longer than usual, since you were making it from scratch, but Dean had said earlier that he had nowhere to be.

"Smells good in here." Dean noted when he walked out of the bathroom. Seeing him in Michael's clothes made your heart stop for a second, and not in a good way.

Dean and Michael had many similarities, the hair color, height, demeanor, etc. And you didn't want to be reminded of that man.

"Thanks," You said nonchalantly. "It's nothing special, but I thought you'd like it."

"So," Dean started, leaning against the counter. "This is a nice little set up you've got here."

"It's not much, but it's home." You shrugged as you stir the pot of noodles. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Storm sneaking around the corner of the kitchen, hoping for some food or a treat.

"How long have you lived here?" Dean asked.

"About five years." You informed him. "Ever since I turned eighteen I've been living on my own."

"How come?"

"You know the thing parents always say? 'As long as you live in my house, you follow my rules'? Well, I didn't like their rules so I got myself this apartment and I've lived here ever since."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, my old man was like that too. I actually did the same thing as you did. 'Cept I came back 'bout a week later." He laughed. "I was too dependent on my dad and brother. I have never lived alone before then; and to be honest, I hate living by myself. I still do."

"You never got roommates?"

"I had a few. There was Mick and Cas. Of course, I can't forget Benny." He grinned. "But they're all gone now."

"Benny?" You mumbled. "As in Benny Lafitte?"

"Yeah, why? You know him?"

"Do I?" You rolled your eyes. "That idiot's my cousin."

"Really?" Dean said excitedly. "I haven't heard from him in ages, how's he doing?"

"He's loving by the coast, and the last I heard, he met some girl named Andrea and he is head over heels in love."

"That's great." Dean smiled. "I really happy for him."

"Yeah, I expect to get an invitation to his wedding so enough. The way he talks about her, you would think he's known her his entire life."

"That's sweet. Benny seems like the guy that falls hard after one date."

"Oh yeah, he definitely is." You giggle. "He calls me after one date and says, 'Y/N, I think I'm in love. If I sent you a picture of a wedding ring, would you look at it and tell me what you think?'"

"No way!" Dean laughed.

"Yes! I had to talk him down from buying an engagement ring! I told him to wait for a year and a half, and then revisit the subject of marriage. Times almost up and he's still fawning over her. But I'm happy for him, he definitely deserves this."

You sprinkled bread crumbs on top of the Mac and cheese before popping it in the oven for a few minutes.

"You put break crumbs on your mac and cheese?" Dean questioned.

"You don't?"

"Never tried it." He shook his head.

"You caveman." You sighed. "I will just have to train you." Dean gave a harmonious laugh, which, in turn, made you laugh as well.

You grabbed a towel and pulled the mac and cheese out of the oven. You scooped some onto a plate and handed it to Dean. Both of you sat down at your small kitchen table and began to dig in.

"Oh my god." Dean said, his mouth full with food. "That is the best mac and cheese I've ever had."

"See? Told you it would be good."

"I'll never doubt you again." He mumbled as he shoveled more into his face.

You ate in a comfortable silence until there was a knock at your door. "I'll be right back." You told Dean as you opened the door.

"Mr. Pierce." You said nervously. "What can I help you with?" You knew what he wanted. And you sure as hell didn't have it.

"You're behind on rent, Y/N. I need the money, or I'll have no choice but to evict you." You felt your heart drop to your stomach.

"I-I don't have it right now. My hours have been cut and I-"

"I'm sorry, Y/N. You're a good girl, but I need someone who will lay rent on time every month. I really hate to do this, but I want you out in two weeks."

"I-It's okay, Mr. Pierce," You assured him shakily. "I understand." And with that, he was gone. You gave a shaky breath as you leaned on the door.

"Y/N?" Dean called, approaching the living room. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

"I will be." You nodded.

"What happened?" Dean questioned gently.

"I just got my eviction notice." You deadpanned. Dean's mouth popped open in shock. "I have to be out in two weeks."

"Crap, sweetheart. I'm sorry. What are you going to do?"

"Couch surf for a while, maybe? I know Jo will let me stay with her for a couple of days, but if her landlord catches me there, he'll throw her out too."

"What about your parents?"

You gave a cold laugh. "No, they'll never let me come home. I would stay with my older brother, but he's overseas right now. So honestly, I don't know what I'm going to do."

Dean stayed silent for a moment before speaking up. "You could come live with me." He suggested.

"Dean, I really appreciate the offer, but I can't impose on you like that."

"It's okay," He assured you. "I have an extra bedroom. And it's not imposing if I'm asking. Besides, like I said before, I hate living on my own."

"Dean, we barely know each other." You tried to reason.

"Hi, my name is Dean Winchester, I'm an Aquarius, I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky women." You let out a loud laugh. "There, now you know more about me."

"Dean-"

"Just think about it. If you can't find anywhere else to live, my door's always open. I have to go, but here's my number," He said, writing down his phone number on a sticky note. "If you need anything, call me." Dean gave you a small smile before he walked out the door.

You flopped on the couch, staring up at  ceiling. Storm jumped up on your chest, purring loudly. You gently scratched his back. "What should I do, Storm?" You asked. "Would you want to live wYou flopped on the couch, staring up at  ceiling. Storm jumped up on your chest, purring loudly. You gently scratched his back. "What should I do, Storm?" You asked. "Would you want to live with Dean? You seemed to like him." Storm gave a tiny meow, his eyes closing shut. "Real big help there, buddy."ith Dean? You seemed to like him." Storm gave a tiny meow, his eyes closing shut. "Real big help there, buddy."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Tag List:

Cinnamon and Sugar Tags

@vicmc624 @lovememisha @supernatural-jackles @laycblack

Dean Tags:

@akshi8278​

And if anyone else wants to be added to any tag list, let me know!

[jadepetals]

so this is part 4 of the fics that i've read and have stayed with me for a looong time. hope you feel the same way.

the beginning of everything / 30532 words

Harry is a struggling artist, in more ways than one, and Louis is a successful theatre critic and a failed writer, more or less.

Where I Should Be / 31324 words

Harry is getting married, Louis is in love with his best friend, and they only have this life to get it right.

From Eight Until Late, I Think About You / 35227 words

After finding out that his University of Brighton roommate has a YouTube channel, Harry starts up his own channel, on which he posts videos of himself doing weekly challenges. He strikes up a friendship with Louis, a popular youtuber in London, that starts in the comments on their videos and progresses to texting, skyping, and talking about each other in their own videos far too often. They fall for each other long-distance, but put off meeting face-to-face as long as possible, too nervous that they'll screw it all up.

all that remains / 40159 words

Harry has always written too many songs about him.

Breakable Heaven / 44594 words

“What do you think?” Louis gets captured by Harry’s green eyes, unable to look away or even take a breath.

“I think you’re the most magnificent creature I’ve ever met.”

“You must not have met many creatures then.”

Harry’s eyes glance downward to Louis’ lips and his tongue darts out to wet his own. “None like you.”

just a flicker in the dark / 57200 words

Louis is a struggling witch desperate to prove himself after yet another magic disaster and finds a calling in the haunted house of client Niall Horan. Things get more complicated when he’s assigned a case partner: acclaimed medium and ex-boyfriend, Harry Styles.

Like Real People Do / 58469 words

Harry is Louis' soulmate but Louis isn't Harry's - it takes Harry a while to figure it all out.

try not to remember (rather than forget) / 59602 words

Harry hadn’t left, not really. He had been right there the entire time. And that’s what had made it worse, knowing that his body was within touching distance but his mind, everything that made Harry Harry, was lost somewhere Louis wasn’t able to reach.

He hadn’t left, but that’s what it had felt like most of the time. Just as if one day Harry had up and left him.

Know I Think You’re Awesome, Right? / 60113 words

Louis is a hippie, very good vibes activist and Harry is a punk, anarchist that always gets involved in violent protests.

Such Good Luck / 66205 words

Harry is a young aristocratic lord and Louis is a working class dairy farmer. Secrets are a necessary part of their relationship, but Louis has one that could topple their whole world.

sleeping on our problems / 67426 words

Louis sleeps with Harry and they have more than just catching feelings to worry about.

From What I’ve Tasted of Desire / 71557 words

When Louis moves to the small Scottish town of Fortrose to spend some time with his father, he thinks he's come to terms with the fact that the next two years of his life will be rainy and dull. That changes when he meets the ever-elusive Harry Styles in his Biology class and he makes it his goal to find out the big secret surrounding him and his family. Louis unexpectedly finds himself in the eye of a storm of secrecy, age-old myths, friendship and romance.

We’ll Cast Some Light (You’ll Be Alright) / 74409 words

There’s a standard procedure for this. Scan, track, kill. But with a solar eclipse and a Greater Demon with unfinished business looming, the path to keeping England safe from harm becomes complicated and shadowed by mystery and secrets. For Harry and his team, times have never been harder, especially when a few old friends turned foes show up. Harry is left with just over forty days to overcome the hurdle of tension between them and reconcile their past, and figure out just what Louis is hiding from him before it’s too late.

 My friend lost a bet / 74975 words

Louis ends up on the list of potential fake-boyfriends for Harry Styles because Stan really sucks at football bets.

Swallow The Knife / 76178 words

“You came,” Louis says, still breathless, clinging to Harry, uncaring that his sweat is getting all over Harry’s presumably clean dad shirt, or that he’s making Harry hold up all of his weight.

“Of course I came,” Harry says. He shifts, one arm curled underneath Louis’ arse, the other spreading wide in the middle of Louis’ back. “If I ignored you every time you pissed me off we would have stopped being friends a long time ago.”

Louis already knows that, of course. It doesn’t do anything to stop the pleased squirm in his belly every time Harry proves it, though. They fight like nobody’s business, both of them too stubborn to pull their punches when they’re arguing, and it used to get them in trouble, but they always make up.

Adrenaline makes Louis loose-lipped, and they both know it. He tightens his arms around Harry’s neck, buries his face in his hair. “I missed you,” he confesses, quiet. “Doesn’t feel the same up there by myself.”

Black with Autumn Rain / 93468 words

Harry is a journalist, Louis has lots of secrets and the moors aren't exactly the ideal place to rekindle a lost romance.

Runaway Land / 103610 words

Louis is sure he’s stumbled upon a secret, underground nightclub, though that is far from the truth. He’s also pretty sure he’s stumbled upon Apollo, which… isn’t very far from the truth, actually.

Next to your Heartbeat (where I sould be) / 130821 words

All it takes for them to fall in love is one night. All they have to do is wait one year to see each other again.

Yet, when Louis returns after his year abroad, the boy who's got his arms wrapped around Harry isn't him. It isn't a stranger either, which should make walking away all that easier. After all, friend's don't lust after their mate's boyfriends.

Technically, doing the right thing should be easy - but when has Louis ever been known to taking the easy way out?

Run Like the Devil / 139152 words

Louis hunts demons; Harry's the strangest demon he's ever met, and he keeps fucking meeting him.

Three Days in February / 187964 words

Louis is cursed after a night out with the lads and the five have just three days to figure out what happened and how to break it before Harry and Louis both lose their sanity and maybe something more. Louis can hear everything Harry thinks and Harry isn’t sure he can keep his feelings for Louis a secret from his own mind.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

[wendystales]

Memories - lrh (Chapter Fourteen)

Memories (also on Wattpad)

Chapter Thirteen ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ Chapter Fifteen

We stopped in front of the new location of The Art of Taste, where a group of people were waiting to enter. The entire facade was lit with small bulbs wrapped around the bushes, which framed the outside.

My mom is the first out of the car, excited, barely expecting Luke and me. She takes the lead, going straight to security and showing us our invitations.

“She's very excited”. Hemmo comments from beside me, offering me his arm.

“You have no idea.” I open a smile.

We followed my mother as she led the way, looking for Mr. Marshall. I appreciate the decor of the place and fall in love with the small wooden bridge that leads into the restaurant, passing by a pond with koi.

"Debra! You came!” Mr. Marshall approaches as excited as my mother. “You’re stunning.” her cheeks blush.

“Oh, not that much. It's an old little dress I had in the back of the closet.” she lowers her head shyly.

"Didn't she say she bought the dress today?" Luke whispered confusedly to me, almost making me laugh. I watch the two lovebirds praising and flirting like two teenagers.

"Marnie! I'm happy for your presence too.” he hugs me. “You must be Luke! Debra talks about you a lot.” he opens a sympathetic smile.

Subtly, I widen my eyes at my mom, wanting to scold her, but she just shrugged, ignoring me. Luke smiles sympathetically and handles the situation perfectly.

Mr. Marshall takes us to a more private table and away from the window for more privacy. I sit next to Luke, having a full view of whoever enters the restaurant.

“I'm going to have the menu degustations served, and if you don't mind, I'm going to steal Debra for a while.” he smiles at my mother.

“Be my guest!” I open a tight smile, very happy for them.

"Is there something I should know?" Luke asks me after the two walk away arm in arm.

“They're in love, but they don't know what to do.” Summary, still watching the them.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me about it." Luke repeats the same thing I said yesterday. I let out a laugh, disbelieving his audacity.

“Sorry, there was no time.” I raise my eyebrows, like he does.

Yesterday was a special night with Luke. After Urban Light, we went to Santa Monica, to sit on the sand and watch the sea, illuminated by the lights from the pier. It was fun to have this time with him without anyone looking at us like fools for whatever move we made.

It was nice to meet him and know everything he likes and dislikes, as well as getting to know the band's history better. For moments like this, just the two of us, I could let him get closer, totally letting my guard down and creating a better relationship.

Of course because of this endless conversation we had and cause we got super late back home, today I woke up looking like a zombie and only managed to get out of bed by a miracle. But even tired, I would do everything exactly the same, just to be able to spend this time with him.

"Should we wait for the girls?" I question, seeing a board of small toast and various types of sauces and pates being served to us.

“I believe not!” he's the first to take the toast and dip it in a red sauce.

I follow him, quickly taking two and sinking into the same sauce. Tomato and basil. I let out an exclamation when I taste it. I start to eat more, after all, I didn't even have time to have lunch today and I didn't even want to, because I knew I would eat here.

I had invited everyone to come to the opening today, but only Luke, Leah, and Kyleen agreed right away. Calum, Ash and Noah had other commitments and Michael also tried to use this one, but Ashton soon revealed the lie, saying that he was actually going on a date, with that Sophie.

"You didn't have lunch today, did you?" I stop the toast in the air, mouth open, watching Luke look me curious.

“I didn’t have time.” I answer a little embarrassed.

“Well, if we run out of those toast, just ask for more.” he takes one more, sinking now into a green pate. I watch his face, trying to guess what that would be.

“Pesto?” I ask, looking at the pot. Luke denies it. I smell the content not identifying much.

"A bitter taste." he make a face. “No! It's a good bitter.” he adds quickly.

When I least notice, Hemmings and I are playing russian roulette with sauce and pates. We just don't know how to just eat quietly, we have to play.

"Bad?" I ask, watching him close his eyes and wrinkle his nose. Luke nodded, swallowing and eating another toast with the tuna pate, which was what we liked best.

"A taste of… I can't explain it. Eats!” he offers me the toast with the white pate and small green bits.

“No! Don't you know what it is and want to push it to me?” I drop the toast on my plate, wanting distance.

Interrupting our little discussion, Leah and Kyleen arrive.

“Sorry we’re late. There was an accident on the expressway. Have you started eating yet?” Leah glances across the table sulkily.

"M&Ms didn't have lunch." Luke hands it to me. I slap his arm.

“Great, there are two of us.” Kiki smiles, already eating some toast. "What is this one?" she points to the weird pate.

“We haven't eaten yet, but try it there.” Hemmings encourages, surprising me with his performance. I stare at him laughing.

Like Luke, Kiki grimaces, disapproving of the pate. I offer my glass of juice to her, which she drinks in one gulp.

“This is horrible. What is that?” she whispers disgustedly.

Luke steals the menu from the next table, looking for the pate. I squint at the ingredients: ricotta, gorgonzola and pickles. I understand why it's horrible.

It doesn't take long and more stuff arrives at our table. Once again, we started our russian roulette, trying everything out and grading, as if we were at MasterChef. We really don't have maturity for anything.

Looking at the restaurant entrance, I start nudging Luke, flustered, discreetly asking him and the girls to look too. Surprised and excited, we watched Michael approach our table, hand in hand with a girl shorter than him.

“Is it her?” I try to contain my excited voice.

“It's her!” Hemmo confirms.

“Okay! But who is she?” Kyleen asks, lost.

“They met at a game match and now Michael is in love.” I almost run over my words, trying to deliver the information before they arrived.

"I didn't tell you." Luke already takes his off the line.

“Hey!” Michael sighs standing next to the table.

“Hey!” aside from Luke, the girls and I were all smiles.

“This is Sophie! My friend.” Mike introduces. The girl with dark hair and two streaks white, like Narcissa in Harry Potter, smiles shyly.

“Sorry for the delay, we got lost.” her voice is low.

“Actually, I didn't want to come.” Michael doesn't even bother to lie. If it wasn't a public place, I'd throw a shoe on him.

Sophie excuses herself and heads to the bathroom as we pull another table for them. Michael sits across from Luke, leaving Sophie in mine and Leah beside her.

“Please, I'll pay you whatever you want, but don't embarrass me.” Mike begs. “I like her a lot.” he admits it quietly.

"Awn!" me and the girls hold hands, dying of love.

“I hate you.” he declares.

“To show that we are willing to help, do not eat the white pate. It’s not from this world. And not in the good way.” Leah warns him.

Sophie returns to the table, taking a seat across from me. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice how Michael's posture becomes tense. He's so into her. Without needing much, we start a conversation and Sophie slowly walks in, forming a group.

“This gaming field must be shit, right? I mean, for who is a woman, isn't it?” Kyleen asks.

“Yea! No man likes to lose to a woman. They never accept that I play better than they do. Cause of this, when Michael called me, I thought he was going to argue with me.” she gives a shy smile.

"Actually, I was going to ask for my shield back." he gives an ashamed laugh.

"And complain to me how you lost." she completes, making him laugh. The way they look at each other makes my heart melt.

The four of them get carried away on a subject as I approach Luke.

“They're really cute.” I whisper.

"I think we're both a lot cuter." he snaps, smiling. I open a smile, denying the way he's sassy.

“You were not like this.” I comment with a smile. I take my gaze to the hall, finding my mother walking with Mr. Marshall, still arm in arm. "I think they're cuter than us." Luke follows my gaze.

“All right! She's your mother, I'll give you my arm. Do you think they'll be together?”

“I hope!”

“Are you gossiping about Debra?” I am startled by Kyleen approaching me and joining in our conversation.

"What's the gossip with Debra?" Leah already turns her attention to us.

"Is there gossip about Debra?" Michael leans against the table, moving closer.

I look at the curious faces trying to identify how my mom became the subject of the table. If she knows this, she will kill me!

"Don't let her know that." I declare before I lean against the table and tell her about my mother and Mr. Marshall.

Friday

I feel terrible, not only for the cramps and indisposition, but mainly for having to cancel with Luke. I've waited so long for this date and now I'm here, lying on the couch, suffering for being born a woman.

“Here.” Leah hands me a pain killer and a hot water bottle. I lay my head on her lap, wanting to cry. “It's OK.” she repeats calmly as she cuddles me. She knows why. “You can go out next week, he won't change his mind until then.”

“I know he won’t, but…” I catch my throat, not wanting to accept that I would cry about this, but I can't control it, letting a few tears fall. Damn hormones. “I don't know if I can make it another week, I was so excited.” my voice crack it. “Stop laughing!” I scream when I feel her body move.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! But you look so funny like this. Sorry.” she hugs me, holding back her laughter.

Before I can complain, the doorbell rings and I'm grateful that Kiki has finally arrived with food and a lap where I can cry more. Leah runs to open the door and I feel my heartbeat stop for seconds when his voice reaches me. I lift my head, seeing him come in full of bags and a Petunia on a leash.

“What are you doing here?” I quickly dry my face and try to fix my hair. I look awful. Luke looks at me confused and opens his arms, as if the answer is wide open there.

“I came to take care of you, of course.” he laughs. Leah is behind him, smiling like hell.

I sink my face into the pillow, wanting to cry more. I don't deserve him. I don’t deserve. Luke lets go of Petunia, who runs off to try to climb onto the couch and lick me. Leah helps Luke empty the bags in the kitchen.

While they straighten everything out in the kitchen, I go back to tidying up my appearance, trying to look at least presentable.

"I brought some soup that Calum made. Pain killers, sweets and some facial masks, This always helps you relax and get better.” he comes closer and I just want to bury myself. I look awful.

“I can't believe you came here and still brought all this.” my heart melts at the attitude and smile he gives.

"I'm sorry if you thought you were going to get rid of me." he sits beside me with a bowl of soup, pleasant smell by the way. I move closer, almost getting under his arms and snuggling into his chest. However, I still keep a safe distance and control my urges to cling to him.

“Well, since you’re very well cared for and accompanied. I think I'm on my way.” Leah still has the smile. “Get well.” she kisses my cheek. "Anything, call me. And you, take good care of her.” she orders Luke.

“Promise!” he raises his right hand.

Leah left, leaving us alone. Petunia lying on my lap, curious about the hot water bottle. Luke beside me, holding the bowl and spoonful of broth toward me.

"You know you don't have to spoon-feed me, don't you?" I ask before opening my mouth.

"Can you let me take care of you?" he counters, falsely sulking.

“You can, just don't need…”

“Sh-sh! Eat the soup.” he advances another spoonful into my mouth. I roll my eyes, silent.

"Calum who did it?" I ask impressed, after a few spoonfuls.

“He's been taking some cooking lessons, especially now that he's turned vegetarian.”

"You should do it too, to stop making eggs in the microwave." I let a fake smile in the end.

"Worried about me?" he asks smiling.

"Shut up and give me the soup." I ignored him, taking a deep breath and not smiling under his amused gaze.

Between spoonfuls, I play with Petunia, already feeling much better. At least the urge to cry has passed.

"You said you brought candy." I knelt on the couch, watching him carry the bowl of soup to the sink. Luke laughs, grabbing some white and pink boxes from the fridge.

“Yes, I believe sugar can help.” he puts the boxes on the table and pulls Petunia onto the rug. “You don’t!” she barks. “You can’t!” she barks louder. “Hey! Come! I'll give you your food.” I watch her follow him into the kitchen.

I open the first white box seeing a generous piece of Red Velvet. I pick up the fork he brought and already steal a piece. In the second box, I find four cupcakes and four donuts. My eyes widen as I open the third box.

"Did you go to Mr. Marshall's restaurant?" I question shocked.

“Yea! You said you liked his chocolate cake. He made this one especially for you.” I look at the smaller size cake.

“I don't remember him decorating with M&Ms.” I comment, stealing a piece already.

“Oh, I asked him to do it.”

I close my eyes, letting my body react to that information any way it wants to. He asked them to put M&Ms on my cake because he knows I like it.

Luke returns to sit beside me, picking up a white chocolate cupcake. I hold the box of Red Velvet in my lap, recklessly eating the cake.

"Argh! I feel so guilty. I'm going to get fat like this.” I complain, but without stopping eating.

“You are indisposed, you can eat what you want. Tomorrow we worry about our weight.” Luke speaks with his mouth full.

"I thought you didn't like red desserts." I comment, watching him take a full fork of my cake.

“How do you know that?” he looks at me curiously. Then I realize I've been cornered.

“In an interview last year.” then I fill my mouth, making it impossible for me to continue the conversation.

"Are you still googling me?" he puts again that amused/satisfied smile on his face.

“Of course, you were my boyfriend. I need to know what kind of people I'm getting involved with.” I shrug.

“I understood. Well, I really don't like it. I don't understand the need to make it red.”

“It's to be more aesthetically beautiful. It's like wearing makeup. You use it and looks more beautiful, it enhances your beauty.” Luke stares at me, holding back his laughter. I've seen this same expression when I defended my M&M’s organizer.

“Well, I know you're crazy about this cake, so I brought it.” he shrugs, like it's no big deal. But for me it's something. If Luke still has any intentions of winning me back, he's doing great.

“Thanks.” I advance toward him, kissing his cheek in shyly. I notice Luke is ashamed too, but maintains his pose.

After we stuff ourselves with candy. Luke and I were in the bathroom, trying to put on those face masks. At first I thought he brought it just for me, but when I saw him putting it on, I understood that he would participate body and soul in that night with me.

“This isn't right.” he comments still struggling with that piece of material.

"You didn't put it upside down, did you?" I approach trying to help.

“No! The eyes are here. So why don't stay?” I see the mask slip off his face. I hold back a laugh, taking the material from his hands.

"If you take the cape off, it stays." I pull out the plastic that holds the oils and put it on his face.

“Makes more sense.” he comments, watching me massage his face. “I need to shave.” he says as I massage his cheeks.

“No!” the answer comes out faster than I can think.

Luke stares at me in surprise at the revelation. With my hands still on his face, I notice the mood and walk away, drying my hands.

“And now?” I stare at him behind me in the mirror. Luke just raises his hands and shakes his fingers, demonstrating that we're going to get our nails done. The scene itself is so funny it makes me laugh. He's the best boyfriend anyone could have. "I think we'd better wait the twenty minutes for the mask, so as not to blur our work."

“Truth. Let's get back to the series then.” he turns around, his back to me, crouching down a little. I grab his shoulders and push off, climbing on his back. And like this, we go back to the room, on piggyback.

I go back under the covers, grateful that I'm sitting down because my legs are killing me. How can something that stays in the womb fuck my entire body? I shift uncomfortably, not finding a position that would make my legs stop hurting.

“Is it everything OK?” he asks, hitting play on The Office.

“My legs.” I answer softly, lying down on the couch with my head next to him.

“Turn. Put your legs here.” he pats his lap. I roll over on the couch, leaving my legs in his lap, where within seconds Luke starts massaging my legs.

I roll my eyes, feeling my body soften. A moan wants to escape, but I hold it with all the strength in the world, along with the treacherous declaration that explodes in my chest. They were three dangerous words that could mess with him more than anything else.

“You are incredible!” I exchange the words, feeling more secure in that expression. The blonde chuckles, shaking his head as he squeezes my foot.

I can't focus for a minute on TV. The feel of him touching my skin so gently and stiffly steals all my attention. I shift my gaze between him and the screen so I don't get so in the face that I'm staring at him.

After twenty minutes of the mask, we went back to the bathroom, washing our faces and then starting to do our nails. I'm sitting, glued to Luke, my hand propped up on a pillow in his lap as he applies the black nail polish. Once again I shift my gaze between him and the new episode, but I don't care if he catches me staring in the meantime.

"Did we do that a lot?" I inquire softly. Luke doesn't answer me with words, too focused on his work, just nodding his head positively.

“Especially when you were feeling bad, or when I was really tired and stressed out.” he complements after finishing a hand. “Tv shows, candies, beauty treatments and massage. Once you wanted to invent climbing on my back, massaging me with your feet.” he starts to smile, still focused.

“I'm sorry.” I lay my head against his shoulder. Let out a low laugh, focused on him.

“It wasn't one of our best ideas. But I can't deny that it wasn't good.”

"Were you happy with me? I mean, we had a good relationship, didn't we?” I question after a while.

Luke stops and stares at the wall, maybe thinking. I analyze your profile apprehensive about the delay. Then his eyes connect to mine. It's like a screen, I don't need the answer anymore, it's there, explicit in the glow of his eyes.

“Yes. I believe we had a great relationship.” he goes back to painting my nails, putting the last coat on.

“Itn't was those weird, honeyed types, was it?” curiosity takes me more every second. Luke holds back a laugh, denying it.

“No! I tried once, but you hit me with the pillow. But that's not our style either. It's like wanting Leah to be cute.” he shrugs. "Don't let her know that." he looked at me in alarm.

“I won’t! Honestly, I'm glad it's you here.” he stops and looks at me curiously. “You know…not that she's not amazing. Even because she was taking really good care of me, but…” I swallow with his gaze so fixed on me. Oh Lord, where are the words?! “You are you!” I shrug. "Don't let her know that." I ask in an alarmed way, as well as he.

“I'm me?” he turns more to me.

“Yeah!” I take a deep breath, trying to find myself in the mess I decided to make. “You seem to know how to handle this whole situation and cause…" Why is it so hard for me to say that I enjoy his company? “You know…I like being with you.” I whisper, wanting to crumble into thin air and disappear.

I lower my gaze, not holding that moment. I've known Luke for a month. I know that he only has size and age in his identity, that inside he is as child and silly as the guys. But there's something about him, so subtle and unobtrusive, that intimidates me so much.

“I like being with you too… but something tells me you already know.” the playful tone breaks the pit of shame I was in. I open a shy smile, going back to watching him finish painting my nails.

“Can I ask you something?” I question fearfully, after he finishes. Luke nodded. "How was that day? The one from the accident.”

He just stops. His jaw locks and that glint in his eyes fades. He leans back against the sofa, snorting. I feel bad for causing this discomfort. I'm even thinking about withdrawing the question, however, Luke is already starting to speak.

“You had gone to rehearse for Vogue and then we were supposed to go to lunch cause I turned off your alarm, and then you were late and we can't have breakfast together.” he narrates quietly and with a lost look.

"Why did you turned off my alarm?" I frown, confused.

"Cause I thought that way you'd stay home with me." I pick up my lips, pressing them together so I don't laugh at his pout. “Well, I was at the restaurant when it happened. The manager came to me and told me what happened, apparently was already on the news.” he takes a deep breath before continuing. “I was the first to arrive, but you were already in attendance, so I only saw you in your room a couple hours later.”

"The nurse said you slept there." I comment quietly, letting my mind wander to that day. Your cheeks are easily pink.

"I wasn't leaving your side." he answers in the same tone.

“Sorry I got you into this. And for being stupid the first time we met…again.” I add.

“It's OK! I mean, it was kind of good.” I widen my eyes, not understanding. “By making you fall in love with me again, I also ended up falling in love with you all over again.”

My heart races. The revelation takes me by surprise, not giving me time to hide the stupid grin gaping at my face. I roll my eyes, looking at the TV, which is currently playing with Jim asking Pam on a date. Ironically, she had the same stupid smile as mine.

"I never said I'm in love with you." I try to maintain my dignity, or whatever I'm supposed to maintain at a time like this.

“It's just a matter of time.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see him shrug. “You've already admitted that you like being with me. For those who hated me in that hospital, enjoying my presence is already a big step forward.”

I bite my lip, closing my eyes. He can’t be serious.

"I never said I hated you." I look at him, who was focused on the TV.

"And you never said you're not in love with me either." he blinks, smiling in amusement.

“I hate you!” I say loud enough.

“In seventh grade, when a girl said she hated a boy, it's because she liked him.” Luke comments, leaving me speechless, my mouth hanging open. "I will take your silence as a yes."

I kneel down on the couch, taking the pillow from my lap and hitting it. Hemmings starts to laugh as he shields himself from the flurry of beatings I give him. My God, how I hate him.

I return to sit on the couch more relieved, but still with my heart pounding. It's a mixture of very random feelings. I want to hit him at the same time I want to kiss him as I sink his head into the coffee table, telling him how much I like him.

The desire to let these feelings take over me fascinates me. But that's not how I wanted everything to happen between us. Expected to be a little more romantic, with me more tidy and less messy.

"You made me smudge my nail." Finally, I accuse him, sulking.

[aestheticallyholland]

NEVER NOT | DECISIONS . . .

❃ PAIRING tom holland x fem!reader

❃ DISCLAIMER i do not own the artists (and the reader) that are going to portray the characters, but i do own some of the their names. the plot of the story is inspired to the book and movie 'to all the boys i've loved before' but with changes. the gifs and photos used in this series are edited by me but i get credits to the originals. also, this series is first posted in wattpad by me. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST IT SOMEWHERE ELSE !

❃ WORD COUNT 1.7k words

WANNA BE ON THE TAGLIST? feel free to comment on this post if you wanna be added to this series' taglist to get notified for updates !

NEVER NOT MASTERPOST | LEI'S LIBRARY

"Wherever you go, whatever you do, I'll always be here to support you." - anonymous

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

[ january 05, 2016 . . . ]

Y/N WAS WAITING FOR TOM TO PICK HER UP FROM HER HOUSE. Tom had suddenly texted her to wait for him as he was going to pick her up. Of course, she agreed to him and told him not to be late.

Another week has passed since their real relationship started. They've celebrated Christmas and New Year together in each other's houses during the week. And also with their closest friends which were Erika and Harrison.

They finally opened up about their relationship with each other which made Erika and Harrison open up about theirs's too. Although it was already obvious for Tom and Y/N, they still wanted to hear from them.

When Y/N was lost in her thoughts, Tom's car suddenly arrived which surprised her.

"Tom!" She called out.

Tom happily got out of his car and walked towards Y/N.

"Where the hell are we going? It's like nine in the morning." Y/N complained which made Tom laugh a bit.

"Good morning to you, love." Tom greeted and gave a peck on her cheek.

She rolled her eyes playfully at him before answering back. "Morning, Thomas." She wrapped her arms around him and snuggled.

Tom's arm snaked around her shoulders as they walked towards his car.

"Seriously, where are we going?" Y/N asked Tom as she placed on her seatbelt.

"My house. My mom wanted to bake with you all of a sudden. She also wanted to make lunch for us." Tom said which made her eyes widen.

"How come you didn't tell me it was that? I could've prepared." She said.

"It's okay. I think my mom just prepared already." Tom said and started the engine and drove off.

Y/N sighed in relief and sat comfortably on the seat. She grabbed Tom's free hand and wrapped her fingers to his. Tom plastered a smile on his face while driving going to his house.

It has been a week since he got the news and he still hasn't told Y/N about it. He only told his family and Harrison first during the morning. He just didn't know how to tell Y/N about this.

This is why he planned to tell her today. And hopefully, he would tell her.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"Y/N!"

Y/N heard that familiar voice that called her and it was Tom's mom.

"Nikki!" Y/N called back as she gave her a big hug.

Tom closed the door in his car and went beside his girlfriend.

"I missed you already, dear," Nikki said to Y/N which made her giggle and Tom rolled his eyes.

"Mum, you just saw her a few days ago," Tom said and his mom just ignores her son's response.

"You know, it's very hard to deal when all my children are boys," Nikki said that made Y/N laugh, and Tom groan. "But, I've gotten used to it eventually," Nikki added.

They continued to talk as they walked inside Tom's house. Y/N basically helped his mom prepare lunch while the boys just played video games.

From time to time, their mom would scold them and ask them to help in preparing or else they would have to do the chores themselves for a whole month.

Nikki would tell Y/N stories about Tom and his childhood and about photography too which inspired Y/N to want to try to go into the field of photography.

"Lunch is served!" Y/N exclaimed that alerted the boys and they ran towards the dining room.

"No running, boys!" Nikki scolded them and just sighed at her sons. "Until now, they still act like little kids," Nikki whispered to Y/N loud enough for them to hear.

All of them gathered together and ate lunch. Tom sat down beside Y/N. Before that, he and his youngest brother, Paddy, argued on who will sit beside her. But of course, Tom won since he would always say that Y/N is his girlfriend.

"How's your father doing, Y/N?" Tom's father, Dom, asked her across the table as they were eating.

"Same as always. He's just staying home right now since it is still the holidays." Y/N answered.

"Tom," Nikki called out her son who looked at her. "Did you...?" She trailed off since she wasn't sure and Tom already knew what she meant. He shook he said as a 'no' and Y/N noticed their conversation. They continued to talk silently that Y/N couldn't really understand what was going on until Ton spoke up.

"Y/N, there is something I need to tell you," Tom said and Y/N just looked at him, waiting for him to say what he wanted to tell her.

"You know that I act, right?" He asked her and she nodded. He has mentioned before to her that he actually acted since he was a kid.

"Well." He paused for a while and looked at his brothers and father who was encouraging him to tell her.

"I auditioned for this role a few months ago before we met and..." He took out the paper that he received a few weeks ago and gave it to Y/N.

Y/N took it opened to read it. As she read through the lines, her eyes suddenly widen.

"You're..." She paused, trying to sink in what she just read. She looked at him and suddenly wrapped her arms around him.

"You're the new Spider-Man!" She exclaimed while hugging him. Tom didn't expect this kind of reaction but he was glad it was. He hugged her back and kissed her head.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Y/N asked him and pouted.

Damn it. She's so cute. Tom thought in his head before answering her.

"I didn't how to tell you this, honestly. I have to make a decision, Y/N." Tom told her.

He grabbed her hand and suddenly stood up and pulled her with him. He wanted to tell her this privately so he excused himself first and went upstairs with Y/N.

"Does this mean that you're leaving?" Y/N suddenly asked as soon as they went to Tom's room. He looked at her with sad eyes and nodded.

"Come on. Don't be sad, Tom." Y/N said and caressed his cheek. "This has been your dream since you were little," Y/N said.

"But I don't want to leave you, Y/N," Tom said and held her hand that was on his cheek. She just gave him a small smile before saying something.

"I'll be happier when I get to see you on the big screen, Tom," Y/N said which made Tom's chest feel lighter. "I'm so proud of you. You deserve it so much." She pressed her lips to his and Tom responded to it.

"Let's go somewhere," Tom said and held her hand once more.

"But, what about your family?" Y/N asked.

"They'll understand, don't worry," Tom said and led Y/N down.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"Is this another mysterious place again?" Y/N asked as Tom was covering her eyes. She could feel her feet being covered by something soft and sandy since Tom told her to take off her shoes.

"You'll love it," Tom said. After a few more walks. Tom asked her if she was ready and she nodded. He took his hands off her eyes and smiled.

"Woah," Y/N said as soon as her eyes were uncovered.

They were on a beach where there were fewer people. The sky was so clear that it reflects in the waters of the ocean. The sound of the waves satisfies her ears. Her feet were covered in sand.

"This is where I go when I feel stressed out or just want to relax alone," Tom said and stood beside her.

"You really discover so many beautiful places," Y/N said and wrapped her arms around him while looking at the waves.

Tom spun her around to face him while her arms are still wrapped around him. She gave him a questionable look first.

"I will never forget this beautiful face," Tom said that made Y/N blush.

"You really know how to make me blush," Y/N said and smiled. "And I will never ever forget this handsome face of yours." She said that and pinched his cheek with her other hand. "I still can't believe my boyfriend is the new Spider-Man."

"Me either. I'm so happy about it." Tom said and smiled widely. "I still can't believe that I have to be away from you for God knows how many years."

"I don't mind waiting for you, Tom," Y/N said. "As long as our love never fades, I'll wait for you."

"Man, I am so lucky," Tom said and sighed then smiled. "I have the best family then I just got the role that I've been dreaming to act." He looked at you. "And I have you."

Y/N felt herself blush again and slapped Tom playfully.

"Ow! What was that for?" He asked her and she giggled.

"For always making me blush." She answered and placed her head on his chest.

"I will go to you every day before I leave," Tom said. "I want to cherish these days with you."

Y/N continued to look at the scenery and smiled.

"Me too, Tom. Me too." Y/N said.

"You know what." Tom let go of her to properly face her. "Go here when you miss me the most. Go to this place when you won't be by yourself." Tom told her. He got something from his pocket and revealed it to her.

It was a bracelet with white marbles on it. In the center, there was a sun symbol that was surrounded by white marbles.

"Wear this to remember me." He added and placed the bracelet on her wrist.

She looked at the bracelet and smiled. She felt tears going to fall from her eyes and looked at him. She leaned herself to him and he hugged her.

"I'll always go here, Tom," Y/N whispered, softly.

They stayed there together with Tom's arms around her. He just wished that this could last forever.

❃ TAGLIST @allthisfortommy @kait4073 @lovebittenbyevans @l0ve-0f-my-life @spiitfiires @robertpattinson-th @jackiehollanderr @butterflies-glitter

[echo-three-one]

Chapter 38

THE ROAD SO FAR

The EIGHT-Thirty Appointment

John 'Soap' MacTavish

London, UK

Following the events of Shepherd's surrender to authorities, the members of Task Force 141 who went rogue in pursuit of him had been exonerated from treason. This meant that from then on, life would be a little more 'normal'. No more hiding in public, no more lack of equipment, no more secret hiding areas.

This prompted Laswell to recreate the task force she once poured her heart on, with a few changes to its jurisdiction. With Ghost, Roach and Alexandra still recovering, the remaining members were invited to celebrate their success.

"So John, now that 141 is back your main focus will be Nero. Do you want the reassigned members back?" Laswell asked Price while they exited the building. Soap overheard this because he thought he was the John being called.

"If it's still okay and not much of a hassle, then yes." Price replied.

"What about Kyle?" Laswell added.

"No. Not yet. Just keep an eye on him." Price mused and turned to Soap, who quickly turned to focus back on Alex as he pushed his wheelchair.

"Excuse me, Captain Price. Can we talk for a moment?" Samantha interrupted as they stopped on their tracks. Alex turned out of curiosity, wondering what matter they were discussing.

"Hey hey hey. What was that about?" Alex asked Soap and France, who continued walking. Laswell turned to the next right as she already finished her conversation with Price, waving at Alex and the rest of the 141.

Soap chuckled at the CIA. This was about Samantha's surprise for him and he shouldn't spoil it.

"Well, with 141 back maybe she just wanted to know where she will be now. Nero no longer needs the IP Address and she's been through a lot." France reasoned, making Alex frown.

"You know… I want her safe and all but I also want her within my reach. I've lost her far too many times already. I'm not going to lose her again." Alex grumbled making Soap and France look at each other, their faces were worried at their sorry excuse.

"I think Samantha feels the same way too. Maybe she's bargaining for staying at 141." Soap lied, making France question him quietly.

"You know what, Alex? Don't overthink this." Soap tapped his shoulders reassuringly.

"Overthink what?" Samantha inserted. They fell quiet and Samantha slowly asked Soap to let her push Alex as they moved forward, Samantha being excited of what's next.

"Well, we did a great job. I guess." Soap quietly commented sarcastically, earning a soft elbow from France.

"Ow!" he exaggerated and turned to France, his face looked bewildered.

"Way to go, John." She sneered and followed the two on their way to their appointment, riding Soap's trusty jeep.

The drive to the surprise area consisted of mostly Soap and Francine acting like couples while they drove. Soap could see the two murmuring at each other whenever Soap would argue with France on whatever's going on in the road.

"I always wanted to try out some London restaurants." she mused, looking at the place they just passed by.

"Yeah? I could see you as the fancy kind." he chuckled at his guess.

"What does that mean?" France gave him a suspicious glare. Soap looked at her, feigning surrender.

"I just said it as is. You're the kind of person who would want fancy stuff." He explained, focusing back on the road.

"I-"

"Come on. You don't have to read everything I say between the lines. Sometimes, I'm just a simple man" he whined and Alex and Samantha burst out laughing, causing the two to be quiet.

"Are you sure there's nothing going on with you two?" Samantha asked, making the silence a little bit more awkward.

Soap carefully rolled his eyes toward Francine, who was actually looking down and blushing. He really had no definitive stance on whatever's going on between them, and if you ask him, he'd love to assume that they're already together. But he remembered that he told her that he'll be patient, and that's the only thing that's hindering him from taking her to the next level.

"Well…" Francine croaked, her voice was shaky and Soap was actually worried that she was already under pressure.

"We're here." Soap interrupted, wishing he did the right thing. Alex quickly looked outside to see where they actually were.

"What is this place, Soap? Where did you bring us?" Alex asked and Soap just nodded.

"I'll let your girl fill in everything for you. This was her idea after all and we're here to help her out." Soap replied as he assisted him to his wheelchair and watched the two enter the establishment.

He then knocked on Samantha's door as she was still out of focus.

"There's a coffee shop across the street, we could wait there until they finish." He invited her for another coffee date. Hopefully this time, there would be no more emp phone wielding persons to interrupt it.

"About Samantha's question…" She muttered.

"Don't pressure yourself about it. You actually owe me for saving you, by the way." He chuckled, already opening her door.

France slowly stepped down the vehicle and turned to Soap, her head looked up to his face.

"Look John. There's no other reason I can think of that would make you wait anymore. I really enjoy your company, your personality, and I'm curious about everything else about you. So, if you've been waiting all this time ever since that night, my answer is that I'm ready." She smiled, and John's eyes widened at the sight of her. The message made him hug her tight, lift her up and spin her around briefly while she giggled at the feeling.

"Wow. You don't know how much you made my day, France!" he sighed as he slowly set her down and closed the door and made their way to the coffee shop.

"I missed these so much!" France happily chewed on a slice of blueberry cheesecake, with a few crumbs stuck on the edge of her mouth. Soap smiled as she watched her enjoy the simple things in life, a thing he was always looking for in women.

Most of his dating life were his parents setting him up on business dates and most women there were far too serious. They looked like they haven't enjoyed anything in years. Some of them admittedly loved to have fun, but their idea of fun was far too complicated. Like expensive travels and luxurious shopping sprees, none of them piqued Soap's interest.

However, Francine was the first one who begged to differ. It's like every great idea in John's activity book is enjoyable for her. Simple things such as Netflix, Cinemas and even this coffee shop date, made her smile.

"What's funny?" Francine asked as she noticed the odd smile on his face.

"Oh nothing… you just looked cute eating that whole thing. It makes me want to buy a whole cake and watch you smile and eat that all day." he mused, imagining how things would've been if they weren't in public. He could've been tasting that cake from her mouth already.

He quickly grabbed a tissue and wiped off the crumbs as Francine blushed in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry. I didn't notice it was there." she blushed shyly and looked down.

"Nah… why apologize. I was thinking you were hinting at me to kiss you. Like what most movies and cliché shows would mean." He scoffed and sipped on his coffee.

"Ha ha. Well you could try. As if I'd let you." She smiled bravely, but Soap could see her weakness behind that smile. She's raising her guard up again, and it's always like that when people are around.

"Wow. Umm that went differently." Soap commented, attempting to let France open up. This has been a common trend with her lately, toughening up when people are around but when they're alone, she's still strict but less tense.

"I'm sorry. It's just-" She hesitated and turned to the window.

"Say, how long would it take for them to finish?" She asked. Soap also turned to the building and shrugged.

"I don't know. Honestly, I'm excited for him. They make the best prosthetics around here and it'd make Alex's life easier. It'll look and weigh and bend like an actual leg." he said proudly as he turned to France who was looking at him weirdly.

"What?" he asked as he checked his phone which just beeped.

"Actually, they're almost done. And they're asking for an order. I'll just go get some for them, you stay here." He added, holding the thought, wiping his face and proceeded to the counter.

The reformed Task Force 141 would soon be back in business as papers were already approved by the board. They'll be situating themselves on American soil as their previous base was compromised by the traitorous General.

As for their last day on English soil, the rest of the team stayed in a penthouse condominium unit owned by the MacTavishes.

"Wow. This is top class!" Samantha mused as Alex plopped himself on the couch, his new leg quickly rested on the table. He's been in it for only a few hours but he already got the hang of it.

Samantha shot a glare at Alex's actions to which he shrugged on, prompting Soap to reply.

"Don't worry Samantha, make yourselves at home. We don't use this place anyway so help yourselves out. I promise it'll be fine." he eased as Samantha slowly plopped down beside him as Alex's arm rested on her shoulders. Soap actually wondered if he could do that to her too, get comfortable, open up, just normal stuff.

"I'll go get tea." he quickly said to himself as his imagination got the best of him as he walked to the kitchen. France quickly followed him to help out.

"Fancy place you got here, John. I wonder how many girls you've brought in here." She mused standing in front of him, helping with the teacups. Soap eyed her for a second and replied.

"Honestly, I can't count. I used to stay here when I studied and that was years ago." he replied as seriously as possible, looking at the changes on her face. She's actually jealous.

"Yeah. Figures. I saw your photos from earlier years. It was no doubt you'd have a lot of women over." She chuckled, nervously at it. Soap saw through her as she started to get curious about his life. A sign that she's ready to stop lowering her guard. Soap on the other hand, wanted her to feel special. Asking her out as soon as possible would make him come out as a desperate one, so he planned to do it the long traditional way. Which he actually despised, he would want to hug her so tight right now and it was already killing him.

"What about you? How many different rooms did you wake up to already?" he asked, changing the subject as she was already starting to feel bad about her question.

"Me?! Only a few. And most of them were owned by you. I've been very serious about my life choices that I never let myself loose." she sighed as Soap raised an eyebrow.

"Let loose? Like going out to parties?" He added.

"Yes. But broader. Like letting myself loose. I've always followed the path I wanted to be in, not letting any distractions bother me." she explained, blushing at it like it's a secret she was too shy to tell. Soap on the other hand, didn't quite get it.

"So you mean…" He tilted his head.

"Yes. Since birth, I never had a boyfriend." she looked down in embarrassment for the second time today.

Soap gulped. He didn't actually know how to respond to her statement. Sure he wanted to be the first one, but now wasn't the time. It would feel forced. And he wasn't a fan of forced relationships.

The kettle whistled and the two of them quickly responded to it as they both reached out for it, their hands met just by the handle.

"I'll take care of this one." She said as Soap slowly let go of her soft hands and watched her pour it on, carrying it to Samantha and Alex who were already giggling through a romcom.

"Way to go, John." he muttered to himself with a sigh as he ran his hand on his hair.

The day actually felt worse as France continued to remain quiet towards Soap as she invested herself on the television, third wheeling on Alex and Samantha.

Soap pondered about the words he chose to say to her and those he didn't over a steamy shower.

With the place having only two bedrooms, it was inevitable that France would sleep beside him but he also considered sleeping on the couch to respect her privacy or something like that.

As soon as he exited the bathroom, he saw France already tucked on her side of the bed, scrolling through her phone.

"Hey there." he muttered as she rolled her eyes to him and back to her phone.

"Hey." she said nonchalantly, her eyes dead focused on her screen. Soap quickly grabbed his nighttime clothes and slipped them on.

"Are you in any way excited for tomorrow?" he asked, trying to keep her from interacting with him.

"Yeah. A little." she said as she turned to him and smiled.

"Listen, about earlier today, in the kitchen..." he said.

"I'm not mad, John. I just wanted to say it out there so you could understand me."

"Tell me what you feel."

"Embarrassed."

"Why?"

"Because I looked like a fool earlier. When I told you I was ready and now I feel that you're the one who isn't. You told me you would wait but-" Soap placed his hand on her face, gently touching her cheek.

"France. You don't have to worry. You're still the one I'm thinking about every second. I just… wanted to do this the slow and steady way, where I would show off how worthy I am for you. I want you to enjoy the whole John MacTavish Experience." he smiled and she slowly turned her frown upside down.

Soap wanted to take a picture of that smile and plaster it all around the room as his heart started to pound like crazy, his face unknowingly moving closer to hers. They both started to close their eyes as they let their lips do the talking, but in a quiet and intimate way. Soap felt France's greed for his kiss as she slowly learned how to beg for more of him. It was true that she had no experience on these things but something told him that she's starting to learn some tricks herself.

Soap didn't hesitate to retaliate as she released a soft groan, a sign of her being content as her hands slowly grazed his arms, her thumb softly pressed his biceps, digging deeper as their tongues clashed. After a few more seconds, they both broke their kiss as they gasped for air.

"Yeah. Go sleep on the floor before we do something stupid." She giggled and Soap nodded in agreement as they quickly shuffled about, set their beds and called it a night.

Next Chapter - The SEVEN Inch Wound

Notification Squad my Beloved

@samatedeansbroccoli @smokeywhalee @enderio @bumblingbee1 @ricinbach @whimsywispsblog

[wonhosbuttflower]

The Quidditch Aftermath

Pairing: Gryffindor San x Slytherin Reader (gender neutral)

Genre: Fluff (with an argument in the middle, though I don't think you could call it angst)

Words: 2.9k

Summary: After a Quidditch match gone wrong, you and San end up arguing about it.

A/N: Okay, so this is my first time writing this kinda of thing, so please bare with me :)

I'm really nervous about actually posting something I've written, but I had so much fun writing this that I just wanted to put it out there and maybe someone else will have fun reading it too ^^

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'I'm glad he's okay.', Jongho lets out in low, dragged voice as the four of you make your way out of the Hospital Wing.

'Heey, c'mon, man. It's not your fault. Even he recognises that.', Wooyoung assures him, putting his arm around his friend.

'Of course he's okay, Jong... The fall wasn't even that bad. Besides, Woo is right, it wasn't your fault.', it's your turn to assure your friend now. You put your own arm over Wooyoung's resting over Jongho's shoulders.

'It's not like you meant to hurt him... You did your job well, Jones was just... kind of dumb... trying to avoid the Bludger.', you add almost in whisper. Wooyoung lets out a loud laugh. Seonghwa gives you a somewhat disapproving look.

'What? I'm sorry but it's true! I mean, I'm not saying he's dumb in general... I'm just saying he made a dumb choice.', you try to defend yourself. Wooyoung laughs harder. You can see a shadow of a smile creeping up on Jongho's face, which makes you happy and a little proud of yourself.

'Fair enough.', Seonghwa says, shrugging his shoulders and smirking. 'I guess it was kind of dumb of him... He could've avoided that ridiculous fall.', he adds.

'You really think so?', Jongho asks him, hopeful.

'Of course, Jong. Y/N/N and Wooyoung are right... This wasn't your fault. Even Jones told you that.', Seonghwa tells him.

'You can't blame yourself for this. You even came here to apologise to him, which is more than most people would do. These accidents happen all the time in Quidditch... You know that better than anyone. Remember when you hit that post and had to stay in the Hospital Wing for like three days?', you let out.

'Outch. Yes, still hurts to think about that.', Jongho says, lost in his thoughts.

'Right, but you didn't blame Adams for it... Even though he was the one who sent that Bludger your way.', you add.

'Well, of course not. I mean, Adams is cool... I know he didn't mean to hurt me, he just had to stop me.', he agrees.

'Exactly!', you and Seonghwa let out at the same time. You punch Jongho's shoulders lightly, in an affectionate way.

'Oh. Yeah, you have a point. And Jones didn't seem too upset about it, honestly... Which is a good sign, I guess.', Jongho says.

'Dude, it was barely even a fall okay? He doesn't even have to spend the night there. I've had worse injuries from classes, Jong. Honestly, don't even worry about it.', Wooyoung says.

'He does have a point... I mean, remember the explosion during Potions?', you ask, making everyone start laughing at the memory.

Of course, you and Wooyoung were in the same class, so you were there to witness the moment. Neither Seonghwa nor Jongho were your classmates though, since the first one was in the year above yours, and the latter in the year below. But the four of you became close friends through being in the Quidditch Team together, so they knew the story all too well. You were all together laughing in the corridor when you notice someone moving your way.

'Oh, there's Choi... Do you think he's too upset about losing?', Wooyoung teases using a low enough volume so that the newcomer can't hear his comment all the way from where he is. They are friends, after all. You and your teammates share a playful smile.

'Y/L/N!', San shouts from his place.

'Oh, he doesn't sound too happy, that's for sure.', Seonghwa comments, giving you a smirk.

'Hey, Choi. Great catch during the game, by the way.', Jongho greets San once he's standing next to your group.

'Yeah, it really was... Shame it didn't really change anything in the end.', Wooyoung says ironically, taunting San. You can't help the smirk that forms on your face. It's nothing new, really... You always tease each other about Quidditch, but you're all still friends despite your differences. But, friends or not, San shoots daggers at Wooyoung after his comment, and then at you, probably noticing your amusement at the remark.

'Don't mind Wooyoung... He's just teasing you.', Seonghwa intervenes. 'You did play really great, Choi, congrats.', he adds, genuinely.

He's not wrong. Gryffindor did loose against you, but it was because the Chasers were rubbish and the Keeper was too easy for you and your friends to beat... But despite that, San really was an amazing Quidditch player. By far the best on his team, and all the games they did win were thanks to him. He was also the best Seeker in school, even better than your own... But Slytherin was lucky enough to have really strong players in the other positions, making yours the best team. No one could argue that. Even though you had had enough points in advance to win today's match, San had still caught the Snitch, and in a spectacular move too.

'At least we don't need to knock other players off to win.', San lets out.

'San!', you cry out his name. You can't believe he said that. He knows Jongho... He knows he didn't do it on purpose and that he must feel bad for it. You can see Jongho looking hurt and you blame San for throwing him back down after you three had just barely gotten him back up. 'Shut up!', you add almost right away.

'I guess that's why you never win, then.', Wooyoung shoots back at San, annoyed at his comment. You can't help but agree with Woo, San had this one coming his way.

'That's enough, Wooyoung.', Seonghwa steps in, warning his friend. 'Hmm, I guess we should go now, before someone says something else they'll regret.', he adds. You also agree with him.

'Fine. We have a victory party to prepare anyway...', Wooyoung lets out in a teasing tone, looking straight into San's eyes with an angry and defiant expression. 'C'mon, Jongho.', he says, pulling his friend along.

'Goodbye, Choi. And I'm sorry for Jones, I really am.', you hear Jongho say as he gets dragged away by Wooyoung. San just stares at them, not saying anything, not reacting. And for some reason that just makes you more mad at him.

'C'mon, Y/N.', Wooyoung calls out for you to follow them.

'You guys go ahead... I'll meet you back at the Common Room. I need to have a word with this one first.', you tell them, gesturing towards San with your head. You don't even bother looking at him.

'Are you sure? We can wait, if you want.', Seonghwa asks you.

'I'm sure... Thanks, Hwa.', you assure him.

'Okay, we'll see you later, then, Y/N.', he says before starting to make his way down the corridor with the other two. You turn to face San, giving him an angry look.

'Now, us. What the hell was that all about? Why would you say that in front of Jongho? You know damn well he didn't do it on purpose! He feels terrible about it and we had just gotten him to see that it wasn't his fault... And you ruined that, you made him feel even worse!', you let out all at once, angrily.

'But it was his fault. He knocked Jones off of his broom!', he lets out.

'No... He sent a Bludger at Jones, and Jones is the one who got all clumsy and flew straight into the Bludger's trajectory!', you set him straight. 'Jongho is a Beater... He was just doing his job. It's not his fault Jones was an idiot.', you add.

'The guy is in the Hospital Wing, for Merlin's beard!', he lets out.

'So what? We've all been there after matches or practices... That's Quidditch for you, it's not exactly an easy, friendly sport, it's fast and it can be quite violent sometimes, that's just how it is. Besides, he wasn't even that hurt... He said so himself. You know, just now when we came to check up on him and Jongho apologised to him for the accident. Which is exactly what it was, an accident.', you tell him.

'Maybe he's not that bad but he could've been seriously hurt!', San lets out impatiently.

'But he wasn't, was he? So why are you going around being a jerk to Jongho for something that could have happened, but didn't?', you accuse him.

'I... I didn't...', he starts but you cut him off.

'Why do you even care anyways? You don't even like Jones that much... You're always going on about annoying he is.', you shoot at him.

'Well, that doesn't really matter, does it? He's still my teammate.'

'Whatever... Are you even actually mad about Jones? Because I think this isn't about that, I think you're just mad because even though you caught the Snitch, you guys still lost to us.', you let him know.

'I don't care about that, Y/N.'

'Okay, now you're just straight up lying. We both know you wanted to win as bad as I did. It's not really your fault the rest of your team sucks.'

'Well, of course I wanted to win... Everybody likes to win but that's not what I meant. I'm not mad that you won, I'm mad at how you won.', he exclaims.

'I don't care why you're mad, San, that's not an excuse... You had no right to speak to Jongho like that. It's one thing to tease playfully, like we always do... It's another thing to be actually mean and hurtful just for the sake of being.', you tell him, still hurt.

'Hey, I wasn't the only one being mean now, was I?', he tries to defend himself.

'And Seonghwa told Wooyoung to shut the hell up, did he not?', you argue. 'But in his defence, you were the one who started it. You came straight up after Jongho and that was a jerk move. You know that. You actually hurt him and he did not deserve that. He's your friend! Hell, he's my friend and I hate seeing him get pushed down.'

'Why are you only defending him, then? You didn't defend me in front of Wooyoung, did you? And I'm your friend too!', he lets out with a hurt look.

'Wooyoung wouldn't have said that if you hadn't attacked Jongho like that. Besides, Jong did nothing wrong to begin with... He only did his job. You would have done the exact same thing if you were in his place... If you were a Beater, you would knock Bludgers at any one of us and you know it.', you tell him.

'I could never do that...', he lets out.

'What?'

'I could never risk doing that to you, Y/N.', he almost whispers.

'Well, I guess that's why Slytherin will always win over Gryffindor then... Because we can separate our personal relationships from what happens on the pitch. It's a game and the fact that your friends are on the opposing team shouldn't stop you from doing what you need to do to win.', you say, maybe a little too coldly.

You didn't mean to attack him, it just came out like that. You can see he looks lost in thoughts and you wonder how to deescalate this whole thing. You have to try to say something to lighten up the mood.

'Well, that and... you know... our team is obviously better.', you add almost instantly in a much softer tone, flashing him a playful smirk.

'I guess I can't really argue with that.', he agrees, smiling slightly. 'I'm sorry... I didn't mean to be a jerk. I'll talk to them later and apologise to Jongho, okay? But I really don't want us to be mad over this.', he adds.

'Good... You should do that.', you tell him. 'And you know I can't actually stay mad at you. Also, I would punch Wooyoung if he ever actually hurt you. Or anyone else for that matter.', you add, smiling.

'I believe you!', he chuckles.

'So... do you want to tell me what this whole thing was really about or what? Because I know you and I'm pretty sure you're not actually mad at Jongho, or Wooyoung, or me.'

'I... I think I was just worried, honestly.'

'Worried? Worried about what, San?, you ask him.

'I don't know... I just don't like seeing you play. I saw Jones falling off his broom and all I could think of was that it could have been you.', he lets out in a low voice, his eyes stuck on the floor under his feet.

'You... were worried about me?', you let out, stepping closer to him to stand right in front of him.

Of course he worries about you, you're one of his good friends. You know that's what he means by that. If only he knew how you always worried about him, thought about him, cared about him. You didn't want him to know how you felt, you didn't want to ruin your friendship.

'Of course I worry about you... I could never stand to see you get hurt. I... I like you, Y/N.', San lets out in almost a whisper, looking up to you only after he finishes talking. You hope to Merlin he doesn't notice the flush of red warming up your cheeks.

'I understand, San... I couldn't see you get hurt either. We're friends so, you know, of course I like you too.', you say with a shy smile, hoping he doesn't see through your expression what you actually mean. 'I would hate to see something like that happening to you. But, you know, we all knew what we were getting ourselves into when we signed up for Quidditch Team, didn't we?', you add.

'What?', he asks, confused. He sighs deeply. 'No, Y/N. You don't get it... I actually like you.', he says. You freeze in your place.

'Wha... What?... What do you mean?', you stutter. He takes a deep breath before stepping forward, his face only a few inches away from yours. One of his hands cups your face, his thumb grazing your chin while his other hand rests on your back, just above your waist. You feel unable to move, holding your breath, your hearts about to beat its way out of your chest.

'This is what I mean.', he simply states before pressing his soft lips against yours. It's a sweet, quick kiss... One that leaves you wanting more. You don't know what to think or say. You just know you've never felt this way before. It's all so new and exciting.

'San...', his name escapes your mouth like a sigh. A good one. He smiles, still holding you tight, your chest against his. You can't help but smile as you notice how his eyes disappear and his cute dimples show up on his cheeks.

'I'll take that smile as a sign that you do get what I mean now. And... I suppose I can try that again...?', he half states, half asks. You nod slightly, agreeing with him.

He kisses you again, this time for longer. It's a more urgent and passionate kiss this time, as if the two of you melt into each other, trying to create something new. You smile into the kiss, as does him.

'Wow... I've been waiting for so damn long to do that.', he simply says when the moment finally stops, still smiling. You can't stop smiling yourself.

'So have I. Wish you had done it sooner.', you let out, making him laugh.

'Well, you could've done it too, no? You didn't have to wait for me to do it.', he jokes.

'Well, last time I checked, you're the Gryffindor, not me... You are supposed to be the brave one here!', you tease back and you both laugh. The hand he had cupping your face lets go of it and he reaches down to take you hand. You intertwine your fingers with his.

'Fair enough.', he agrees. 'Sorry I took so long.', he adds, placing a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

'Hmm... San?'

'Yes, Y/N?'

'You know this doesn't change anything, right?', you question him, looking innocent. He raises his eyebrows at you, worried.

'What do you mean? Do you... not want to be with me?', he asks, genuinely scared that he read the situation wrong.

'No, no, no! That's not it... I do! I want that very much. I... I really, really like you, San.', you quickly assure him, smiling. He sighs slightly, relieved. 'But us... you know... being together... It doesn't change anything. I'll still keep kicking you pretty little ass at Quidditch.', you explain. He lets out the loudest laugh.

'So... You think my ass is pretty, uh?', he teases. You roll your eyes at him, laughing.

'Don't get full of yourself, okay? It's not a bad butt... But I've seen better.', you tease back.

'No, you haven't.', he tightens his grip around you, moving his free hand from your back to your waist.

'Okay, fine... maybe I haven't. But you still won't be able to distract me, Choi. We'll just keep winning.'

'I believe that, Y/L/N.', he says with a smile while his thumb rubs circles on the back of your hand. 'As long as you don't get hurt doing it, I think I don't even mind losing to you that much.', he tells you sweetly.

'Well, that makes winning over you less fun, then.', you pout at him overdramatically.

'Hey, I didn't say I'd go easy on you. I still want to win.', he defends himself with a chuckle.

'Now that's better. Well, I'm a Chaser, so I won't exactly knock you off your broom... But I can't make any promises about Jongho, so you better be careful on the pitch. I'd really hate to have to visit you in the Hospital Wing.', you joke. 'Don't... Oh, please, don't tell him I said that. I was joking. It really was an accident.', you quickly add, making San laugh at your awkwardness.

'Don't worry... It'll be our little secret.', he says, kissing your forehead.

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A/N: As this is my first "work" of this kind, I would really appreciate any thoughts and critiques you would like to share with me because I really wish to improve my stories and writing, so all opinions all more than welcome and my dms are always open ^^

Thank you so much for reading this little story and I honestly really, really hope you enjoyed it :)

[beetlegoose01]

stolen whispers: chapter 1

AN: this fic isn’t a request, it’s a story i’ve been preparing for a lil while and I’m so excited to share this with you all <3

I’ll link it on my Archive if you prefer to read it there. Also warning, there’s quite a few OCs.

Time: 2028 (Scorbus have been married for two years)

Summary: When a new generation of Death Eaters kidnap Scorpius, Albus and Rose put aside their differences to rescue him.

TW: Kidnapping/Language/minor violence

~~~~

Two witches wearing shadowy black robes entered the tavern, finding a table near the back. They ordered their mead, waiting for their third partner impatiently. It was a crowded area, so thankfully there was a small chance they would be overheard.

"We don't want more mead." The first woman growled, tapping her long nails at the table. The bartender, a tall man with a mustache put the drinks down.

"I didn't think so." He lips curled into a grin as he morphed into a younger man with wild dusty brown hair, wearing matching robes. He was handsome, but had an eerie presence to him. Any reasonable person would have at least flinched at the transformation, though neither witch did. "Hello ladies." He grinned cheekily.

"Soren, enough playing games." The second woman said, though she was smirking.

Soren barked out a laugh. "It was funny, Mara. And you know it."

The first woman, Lilith narrowed her eyes. She pulled down her hood, revealing cascading inky black hair down her shoulders. A scar that showed no sign of mending was down her cheek. "Your skills are impressive, but useless if you don't use them for our own gain. Don't forget that." She pulled her hood back.

"Understood." He murmured, taking a seat.

"We have much to discuss," She continued, flicking her wand idly. "Our current plan in action. Our...act of revenge. It's been thirty years since The Tenebris was wrongfully killed. I am sick and tired of his name being tossed around in history like he was some monster. He was on the right side."

"Are you certain we want to call the Dark Lord that?" Mara asked suspiciously.

"Shh! You know if anyone hears us, they'll lock us up for good. For speaking our minds." Lilith said. "It's safer we call him by his code name."

Her companions nodded.

"Because of his loss, we have mudbloods in positions of power. Our siblings that fought for his cause are locked up. Or worse, dead."

Mara and Soren looked grim.

"If we had more allies, perhaps we would have had a chance." Soren noted. "We weren't even alive then but...I have a feeling if we were..."

"Just because we weren't alive then, doesn't mean we don't have opinions over the lives stolen!" Mara argued. "That damn Harry Potter."

"Correct. And Soren is right too. For once. If we had more allies, or better yet...certain allies didn't betray us. The Malfoys for instance." She took a sip of her drink.

"Are you suggesting something?" Mara asked.

"Of course I am, don't be so daft." Lilian said, deadly calm. "I want to make that family suffer for what they did. My uncle Vincent Crabbe died for their selfishness. Draco Malfoy had a chance to save him, and he refused like the coward he is. His mother Narcissa lied to Tenebris' face. They are backstabbing filth that besmirched the Sacred 28. No, it isn't just about their betrayal or avenging those we lost in the war. Think of the big picture. They have the capabilities to join our side. To...respawn a new generation of Death Eaters. But that's not all...

"The Malfoys have lots of gold." She drawled. "Surely, they'll spare a few for us in exchange for something important. Or rather...someone."

"Someone?" Soren paused. "What are you suggesting?"

"Regretfully, Astoria Malfoy has passed on." Mara didn't sound the least bit sympathetic, instead stated it blandly. "So using her as a ransom for Draco is a no go."

"Ah, but there is still someone left." Lillian said, removing a small photograph from her cloak, she slid it across the table.

A young man with platinum hair was pictured, beaming brightly in Healer Robes.

"Scorpius Malfoy."

Soren and Mara exchanged a look of satisfaction.

"Bring him to me."

~~~~~~~~~~

The best thing about mornings, at least to Albus, was waking up beside his husband. The sun's bright rays peaked through the window of their cream colored bedroom, slowly stirring them both awake. If it was up to him, he would stay in their warm bed, arms wrapped around Scorpius until noon.

Scorpius rolled over, so that they were facing each other. His eyes fluttered open, and Albus felt his heart melt at his sapphire eyes.

"Hi." He yawned. His voice was slightly croaky, no doubt from the morning.

Albus replied by nuzzling his nose, then kissed his cheek. "Hi honey."

Scorpius laughed lightly. "Let's get up then. Start the day? It's a Saturday. We have the whole weekend to spend together."

"I'd rather spend it here with you."

Bathilda mewed from the kitchen.

"But our child is hungry." Scorpius teased, stretching as he slid out of bed. Albus begrudgingly slumped after him, not eager to wake up before ten am. But his own stomach was growling too.

"Speaking of children," Albus said, starting to work on their breakfast as Scorpius poured Bathilda's food. "Iris is pregnant again. James told me through a Howler yesterday."

"Really?" Scorpius' eyes widened. "That's great news!"

"Yeah, not for my ears." He commented dryly, still traumatized by James' excited screeching in his ear. "Baby number three." He whistled. "Do you think they're trying to make an entire quidditch team? With Teddy and Vic's lot included, they're on their way."

Though he was joking, Scorpius noticed that Albus was glowing, happy for his brother and sister in law. That was one of the many reasons he loved Albus. His love for his siblings.

"Perhaps. When are they due?"

"September. Which means...that's where they scurried off to last Christmas party." Albus quipped. "To have a little fun."

"Albus!" Scorpius scolded. "Honestly, only you would make a beautiful moment gross."

"It's life, Scorp!" He chuckled. "You're a Healer, you should know these things."

"We'll have to visit. Maybe bring a gift basket to congratulate them." He mused, smiling fondly. "I can't wait to meet our new niece or nephew." There was a wistful look in his eye that Albus caught.

"You've got that look on your face." He noted, amused. He served the plates of bacon sandwiches on the table.

"What do you mean?"

"That Scorpius 'I want something but I'm not going to spell it out for you' face."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh." Albus said, forest green eyes brightening in amusement. "What's up?" He took a seat, tucking into breakfast.

"Well," Scorpius started, staring at his food. "I was thinking..." He stopped himself, hesitant to continue his train of thoughts.

"Yeah?" Albus nudged him gently.

"I want a child." He said, his voice quiet, but firm. "I love my nieces and nephews so much, but they aren't...ours. I want to start a family with you, Albus. Raise a little one of our own to be bright and wonderful and brave and..."

Albus' expression softened. "I do too. You know I do, Scorpius. It's just...difficult right now." He stared at his wedding band. "You know it's harder for us than any hetero couple." He waved his hand vaguely. "Adoption is hard, surrogacy is expensive. Maybe once we settled into our careers more, we can talk about it."

"I think we're ready to go beyond just talking about it, Al."

"We're still young. We've still got time. But...I definitely want to work it out. Somehow, we will. We always do."

Scorpius beamed, reaching to kiss Albus' knuckle. "Thank you." He sat up abruptly. "Oh, I almost forgot- it's the farmer's market today."

Albus snorted. "You're exactly like your dad, you know?"

"Yes yes yes, but we should go!" Scorpius said, levitating the plates to the sink and it automatically was clean due to the floating sponges.

"We? I've got some work to do. I'm not very fond of small talk with old people selling fruit."

"Al, it's really good fruit." Scorpius said seriously. "And it's not all old people. I've seen some of our old schoolmates there."

Albus cringed. "That's even worse."

"Don't be so dramatic. Are you still coming?"

"Mm, but I should really finish this article. Go on without me."

"If you're sure...do you want me to bring anything back?"

Albus thought for a moment. "Those strawberries Ms. Beaker sells. Please? Strawberries and cream sounds so good right now."

"Brilliant, I'm on it." Scorpius did a mock salute.

"Have fun." Al waved as Scorpius appatered, leaving the kitchen empty. Albus went straight to work on his article.

~•~

The market was lively and merry, despite the early hour. Scorpius had stopped by the strawberry stand first, in case he forgot.

Ever since they had moved two years ago, Scorpius had found himself drawn to the quaint farmer's market. Not because of the delicious, fresh food, but to socialize. He made quite a few friends with the muggles who lived around there...mostly old ladies. The early days of their marriage, Albus would join him. Before life got in the way, and work had to be done.

Not that he wasn't busy himself. He only had two days off as a Healer, sometimes less. He didn't know how they would manage childcare, but like Al had said, it was best not to dwell on the future.

"Scorpius? Is that you?"

He turned around, following the voice from behind him. "Polly ...Chapman?" He uttered blandly, praying he wasn't mistaken. He didn't have the best memory- even with old schoolmates who bullied him.

"Yep." Polly said, laughing lightly. "It's me. Been a while."

"It has." Scorpius shifted his weight. "How are things?"

"Great!" She smiled, swishing her blonde ponytail, the same air of confidence from when she was a teenager. "Yann and I are engaged."

"Oh! That's wonderful." Scorpius said, pretending to sound pleased. "Congratulations!"

"Thank you. I proposed to them last month. It was just as I had dreamed."

"How is...Yann?" Scorpius did not actually care how Yann was.

"They're good! Brilliant actually, since they passed Auror training." Polly looked genuinely proud of them, which he had to admit was adorable. "Are you and Albus still..."

"Yes, yes. We um, er- we've been married almost two years actually." He added.

"Aw, that's very sweet. You two were always very close, yeah?" Polly looked at him, and Scorpius nearly walked backwards, intimidated by her stance. She still was extremely scary, like a lioness but with a great sense of fashion. "I know...Yann, Karl and I weren't the best to you two but perhaps we could..." She trailed off. "I'd like you both to come. To the wedding. If you'd like."

That...wasn't what he was expecting. He half expected her to invite him to another Blood Ball.

"Pardon?" Scorpius asked, dumbfounded. "I mean- yeah, that sounds great! Fun! Yes. That sounds nice. I'll bring it up to Al."

Polly was glowing. "Brill! I've got to go, but we should all hang out sometime. Like old times."

Like old times? Scorpius thought. When did they ever hang out?

Nodding mutely, he walked away from Polly with a puzzled, but cheerful expression. He hadn't completely fucked up the conversation, which was always a plus. It still felt odd that Polly Chapman of all people was talking to him, let alone inviting him to her wedding. It was bizarre.

He passed the final vendor, and was surprised and amused to see a tiny girl, no more than seven standing behind it. She had a Brownie uniform on, bright rosy cheeks and pigtails included.

"Would you like a biscuit?" She squealed.

It had taken him a moment to respond, he was still thinking of Polly being kind to him "Oh erm- of course." It was impossible to say no to an adorable small child. He reached for some muggle money, handing her the pound notes. "Just the one box please."

"Okie dokie!" She said, handing him the box. She waited a moment, pouting. "Go on, try it." She urged.

"I really shouldn't I-"

"Please?" The little girl gave him the most pitiful expression. "It's for a good cause, mister. We're helping orphaned puppies find homes."

"Well, alright. For the puppies." He fumbled open the box, taking a polite bite out of the cookie. It was a classic lemon cookie with powdered sugar, one of his favorites. But the second he swallowed, he felt dizzy all of a sudden. "What..." He stumbled back. "Oh my," He gulped, the entire market swirling around him. Something wasn’t right. "is there something in..." 

He would be damned if he let this happen without some sort of fight. Throwing his basket aside, he collapsed, slipping into unconsciousness.

"We've got him."

[thisisnotjuli]

there's no need for insults

honestly sometimes on this site I feel like I'm interacting with 8yos.

so, backstory: in my fandoms blog (@fanishjuli ) I've been doing fic recs and such, so I did a fic rec list of this one fandom right? and there were multiple ships bc I'm a multi shipper, I can read any ship and enjoy it just the same, I don't mind much, even tho I do have preferences and there are things I read and like more than others. so, this fic rec list, it had like almost 30 fics I was reccing, and most, like let's say 20 were what's considered the main pairing of the fandom, the most popular ship. and then there were like 3 fics that were the main pairing and another character, and another few fics of another pairing entirely. so, again, 20 fics of this pair and 3 of those two plus another character.

ok so, that. and today I saw a new comment on that post, reading "remove the fucking [character] fics"

meaning the three fics that are of that pairing with this one other character.

and, for starters, that's just fucking rude, what the fuck. that's a bratty 8yo saying they don't like carrots and you have to remove them from the table or they'll throw a fit even your neighbors will hear. that's not something a 22yo should comment on a public post on a public website (fucking Tumblr for fucks sake) talking about one fictional character being involved with another two just because they don't like it and think one of those people is gay. and I mean, it's fine that you think the bloke is gay and it's fine that you don't like the relationship of those three together, just ignore it, don't read it, I don't give a fuck. but you went and commented on my post telling me to remove it.

what the fuck

so what did I do? I deleted the comment and went and messaged them. I tried to message them actually but they didn't follow me so I sent them a public ask instead, hoping they'd read it and delete it or just respond to me privately. I don't think they'll want to post it considering what it says. and what does it say, you ask? well thankfully I took a screenshot before sending it.

basically it says who I am and what I'm talking about ("you just commented on one of my posts something pretty rude") and then I say "I understand we may have different opinions on things and that's cool, but your comment was rude and I will delete it, mostly so others can enjoy my content without your comment making them feel bad. I don't mind that you don't like the ship, I just don't think it's necessary for you to leave that comment. just wanted to let you know. and if you want to talk about it you can message me, I don't mind"

it is a bit brief and my grammar was a bit more slangish but I only had so many space.

there's a lot I could've said, there's a lot I thought to say, but the point was that. they said something rude and I deleted it. I wanted them to know that I (someone, a real person) read it, thought it was rude, and deleted it for others' sake.

and I mean, they commented on one of my posts, me, who don't gives a fuck about what others think about me and I can call them out whenever they're being assholes. but if they'd commented on someone's else post? someone a bit more insecure about their ships, someone who couldn't stand the thought of standing up to someone? they'll just keep commenting those things and nothing would happen and they'd just keep doing it again and again.

my hope when calling them out this way (privately, respectfully) was for them to understand that there's people on the other side of these screens, and it can affect people what one says here. and also that what they said was rude and also stupid because arguing about something as stupid as fictional characters' relationships is primary school level of stupidly arguing about markers ffs.

and since I sent them an ask from this blog they'll probably check me out, and they'll probably see this post, and if you do I just want you to know that hey, this post is not for you, this post is for others who either consider doing something as uselessly stupid as you did or for those who have been or will be in my position of receiving a message like that, and for them to keep in mind how stupid it is. you wanna message me and talk more about it go ahead, maybe teaching a 22yo manners will be easier than teaching my brother.

anyways. the point of this post was that those comments are stupid and you shouldn't let them get to you. and if you see behaviour like this, call it out. because yeah you can think they're soulmates and that the guy is gay and that's fine, I actually agree in this case, but maybe others don't and you should let them enjoy whatever the fuck they want without being an asshole.

--

nevermind, they blocked me lmao. (that's fine tho! remember kids you can always block whoever you want, it's your internet experience, you get to choose these things, block whoever you want)

I still hope you read this, and you can still message me if you want, no hard feelings lmao

[edanablack]

Current MagiReco event - See You Tomorrow

All right, now, I know we're not finished with the event, but here's my current rundown with it. I'll probably end up updating this if the next part is totally tubular.

All right, so, right off the bat, I was judging some of these girls. You know which one, she forgot her pants. I had decided that I didn't like her design, and wouldn't want her. I have decided against only one other girl in this game. Seika (the blue one) also came under suspicion for a bit, when I saw some forum posts taking about how her vest was transparent. I have come to the conclusion that it is not, it's merely tight. Still a bit odd, but moving on.

Okay, now, going into it with these biases and notions, it made it hard to appreciate the story. The other event I did like this was "And So, The Azaleas Bloom", which I immediately loved all the designs for, so it was easy to get into it. It felt like a good story, and I really liked it. Now, putting aside the girls for a second, I did eventually stop viewing this event through the lens of the things I disliked. Upon taking a second to think about it, I could see the story they were telling. (This is just a personal interpretation.) Okay, three girls, all of whom believe themselves to be weird, are attempting to interact with the world. One of them has a problem with saying no, or even speaking up at all, and she kind of hates herself for this. Another girl is awkward and has problems expressing herself, which leads to her being thought of as mean, so she shuts herself off. The third girl (who took me the longest to figure out) is an "airhead", which I took to mean that she has a learning disability, or some other problem. Now, let's stem off on her for a second.

Mito is easily the best designed girl, and she looks cute. Now, when I first started her sections of the story, I was confused by how internally she took every comment (all the girls do, but the things they said about Mito didn't seem that harsh). The generic bully girls would bully her for humming or for talking about a four-leaf clover, which are not really odd things. However, when I thought about it, this is only a moment of their lives. And looking at it that way, it seemed more likely that this happened every day she saw these girls, and they were bullying her however they could, claiming it was because she was acting odd, but actually because they're ableist assholes. Mito is afraid to speak up, because she doesn't want to get in trouble. She doesn't want to tell her mom, because she doesn't want to move, which is happening anyway, unfortunately. Thinking about it this way, it became much more visceral and upsetting to think of them bullying this girl. What were weak jabs, even for generic bullies, became repeated attacks at a person not able to defend themselves. Now, Mito doesn't have to have autism. She could just be a forgetful girl, and the story is still as strong. But for me, it explains a little bit of the story.

Now, here's a few things that I still don't really get. They throw the word "abnormal" around like it's a scarlet letter, like they have no idea what it means. Being an English speaker only, I don't think the word fits. Abnormal, in my mind, is something that is not normal to do. Being shy is normal, even being mean. Being a magical girl is abnormal. Liking four-leaf clovers is normal. My sister mentioned that there is a word/phrase in Japanese that is likely being misused here, which is used to identify and point out odd or unique behavior. Japan, as far as I have read in stories, is a culture that does not like people to be too different. You could argue that America is similar, but that's not for this post. I can get what they're aiming for, but it doesn't make much sense at times. Also, the mothers. I get having problems with your mom, believe me. And Mito's mom seems to be a very strict woman, possibly enabling the fear of uniqueness in her daughter. (I do not recall much of Seika's mother.) But Leila's mother does not seem like a bad person! She has expressed worry and concern for her daughter, despite not taking any seriously, and even though she doesn't seem happy where she is, she seems to be doing her best. For Leila to avoid asking her for help or doing something is ridiculous, which leads into my next problem. Okay, "ASTAB" (last event) had Bad Ends, which were essentially meant to show, imo, how fragile the lives and trust of the orphan girls actually were. They explained that, when you chose to side with the wrong person, there were consequences and it gave you a scary Bad End sign. A little bit unnecessary, yes, but it fit. In this event, you'll be faced with similar dilemmas, but if you ever choose the choice that is a little more sane, you chose the wrong one. Don't ask your friend what's going on, they'll just lie. Don't go for a walk in the park, go up on the roof. Again, ridiculous, but if that's the story they want to tell, fine. However, we get an End sign, without any explanation of what happened. Ex: Leila will decide to stay in and do her homework, believing that she can talk to her friend tomorrow and figure things out, instead of heading to an abandoned mall. Because of this, she doesn't see her friend as a magical girl, and cannot confront her about it. Now, I understand that. There is a narrative. But, tell me that because she didn't go to the mall, Seika got in an "accident", or that Leila exhausted herself doing homework and wandered into traffic. Just because a character made one differing choice, the entire story ends. Whoops, we don't have a work around. I guess that's the end. It's frustrating, especially because I'm getting invested in these poor lonely girls, who just want to fit in. They don't want to be weird, they just want to be happy like everyone else seems entitled to be. In this story, the girls' own fear is what's leading them down a dark path.

That's all I've got for now. I learned to love Leila, but she needs pants. Or a skirt. Or shorts. Or more covering underpants. Too late now, I suppose. Oh well.