#in that period we continued talking and he said some weird ass opinions but i though 'well it's normal if we don't think the same whatev'

[idk-i-want-mcl-content]

beebop

story time to future self, hope you learn from this

[notdysfunk]

Eclipse continuation! Ruin spoilers

With my theories I'm not 100% sure how Eclipse plays in but in my opinion there's too much contrasting information for me to fully believe Eclipse is their default setting. Why would they be separate ais if they are meant to be one?

What I believe might be the case is that when they became daycare attendants their ais we're merged into Eclipse and when infected by the virus, they were forcefully separated again which is why their behaviors become so extreme and why sun being the hero and moon being the villain is so prevalent (referring to my previous ask) Also why we see the implications of BB world subduing Eclipse.

To ME Eclipse seems more like a security protocol, or a transitional period. After the Eclipse segment is over, Sun says thank you. Implying they IMMEDIATELY switched back to Sun and Moon after Eclipse was done talking. I know some people who think he might've been the very first, and split later on. But given the two (Sun and Moon) tragedy masks on the theatre in BASE GAME. I still think they were separate even then. However as for Moon's violent tendencies, that might've been just the villain role he played in the theatre. In base game when he jumpscares you he only really wiggles his finger. I think the decrepit, run down state of the REAL daycare(not ar) has driven Moon more insane. Given why in his jumpscare he CLAWS at Cassie's face with no remorse, fighting Sun and what not. As for Sun being so happy, he might just be trying to cover their ass so Moon will stop scaring ppl LOL- but also? Cassie's inventory notes about the dca plushies said she had a great time here. It's a weird grey area on whether or not Moon ACTUALLY used to be so mean. So again I think eclipse plays into it as just a safety protocol to, well, reboot and reset them incase they get stuck. Which like I said in my other posts, I think Sun had gotten stuck "down under" while Moon was out- and they weren't able to switch anymore.

[anonil88]

Malcolm and Marie live blog

I don't usually do liveblogs for movies but yea.

Spoilers ahead!!

I love that its modern timed but very 70s stylized.

A tune indeed.

When you are high and drunk on success and

How the white critic reacts is why I feel like gatekeeping my scripts. At the same time some things I do make are about race or involve.

Marie sitting on the patio smoking is a mood whenever men are talking.

So he's pretentious and unaware.

Whoever chose the music for this, I feel like we would be Spotify mutuals.

Can this nigga stop pacing.

Also can he stop talking;

Marie is so tired and unimpressed.

Also little booties matter and are to be bitten.

Oooo the tension and the jazz.

Title Card over mac and cheese.

Shitty boxes mac and cheese but still mac and cheese.

Tbh i always wonder if spouses/significant others get upset when their spouses don't acknowledge them during speeches.

John sounds so much like his dad but I really hope his acting style differs from his dad a lot.

Guilty confession?

He did not profit off of his partners backstory and then not even acknowledge her.....I.....

If that ever happened to me catch me cussing my partner out during the beginning credits, the end credits, in the car, and at home.

GASLIGHTER!

The way I'm excited for Zendaya to give me some, oooo can she work with Regina King. Please on my knees I pray.

Um no that's not your job to coddle your lead.

He's a dick and the type of dick who makes himself look like a good person around other people.

If Sam Levinson is trying to make his viewers more of misandrist, it's working.

I feel like Marie has her flaws probably a lot of them and we will surely see as this continues, but Malcolm needs to learn how to apologize sincerely.

70s vibes! 70s vibes!

Them kissing and talking about criticism and dreams makes me miss a partner. A partner that I've had and haven't had.

Women really are behind every great man.

Yea sir you fucked a happy moment.

Oh visual allegories for looking in from the outside and cat and mouse chasing and looking from the outside in.

She's saying she doesn't feel noticed by you.

Gas lighter :0 he called her an emotional support dog, bruh.

I would LOVE to co-write or take a writing class held by Sam Levinson. The fights i write are very much in this same realm of reflection and anger and monologue.

Sam.....sam.....are all the sides inside of you doing okay sir?

The ugly side of dating and being in a relationship with someone who struggles with their own demons.

Honestly I could close my eyes and listen to this script being read without seeing these characters visually. Just close my eyes and get a sense of these characters like it was a radio story.

Oh. Oh this is a new wheelhouse of Zendaya acting; a different voice is like breaking through here and her expressions aren't the same we are used to. You can literally hear another character in there....hmm.

Mans is outside really fighting with his invisible demons lmfao.

Selfish ass, how after everything she said you came out of it thinking about your own craft and self instead of how you hurt her.

So she's conditional.

Me: did sam (a white man) say nigga this many times in his script or are the actors adding their own inflections. Not just the lingo used but the topic of race and directing etc. being written by a white writer about black characters is always gonna be a critique when you're writer is a white person.

Alexa play Broken Girls by Saba

He is so hurtful.

A clown nigga a clown look in the fucking mirror you bozo head ass looking like you need some Mehron clown white and a size 16 in clown shoes.

John is doing a really swell performance and reading of these lines.

He is reading her for her insecurities by bringing up his experiences with other women and that.....is yikes.

Arguments can get messy like this in real life but it takes a lot of maturity and control to either not let it get to this point or have a healthy conversation afterwards.

This film is really shot on some very crisp lenses.

They sitting there like 🚬🧍‍♀️🧍‍♂️.

Leftover Mac and Cheese and unfinished cigarettes.

The nyt etc. pay walls are so annoying, but there is a work around look at the articles on incognito or add a period at the end of the url.

He sounds like his daddy so much here, weird, this is the only part I'm eh on the dialogue it feels real but a bit out of pace in how they are bouncing off one another.

Nail scissors? So the end is not the only part he based off of Marie. 🙄

ITS A GOOD REVIEW YOU DINGUS but also its a full review they are going to critique things. She isn't wrong though he did profit off of a woman's story that was not his own to profit from.

Yes Malcolm because unfortunately all marginalized people look through a lens of life that is inherently political because of the world they live in.

He is so mad and upset and had a lot on his chest. But I think he Malcolm and Sam are talking about something thats an issue and a non issue. Being critiqued for you art is hard but also Malcolm is not super self aware. He's like a stand in figure of for example rich depop sellers who wanna be oppressed so badly they yell at others instead of examining their own personal behaviors and ethics.

Oh Marie, when you know the spark is gone and you pick fights because.

He ain't even ask her to read?

One critic I have for most of hollywood actors is they learn their cry and that is it. A change from this is Margot Robbie, I adore her fluctuations of crying being similar but the crying is carried differently for each character. If I had to say any actor that does a cry scene amazing its this woman right here (Amy Adams)

You stole her story from her and gave it away, she has a right to be upset and angry and a rubber band ball of emotions.

Citizen Kane, not the cinematography, but the story is it even that good? (Unpopular opinion but meh, maybe in my rewatch it will be better.)

But that is what people want authenticity and whatever authenticity means to them. What is real for one is false for another.

To be honest look at the criticism of Euphoria, well earned, but a lot of people were like this isn't real even though he literally wrote about his own life. People said it was inauthentic like....wtf.

Ahh the smoking is just a habit, he quit and she didn't.

CAST ZENDAYA IN A HORROR MOVIE PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING. Get Lupita and Zendaya and some more black actors preferably less known ones in a horror movie. One with a interesting script and story, directed by Regina King. Please and thankyou.

I love Marie yep that was amazing.

Behind every great man is a greater woman, one that deserves her credit for how she has stood behind. I wonder the stories of those women, what they have sacrificed or not sacrificed. Their thoughts and feelings when the world is surrounding their partner and views them as a plus one. (I'd write a short script about this but I think do I have the time, can I, or am I equipped ?)

He is a shitty person for bringing up his exes, like she even said I don't wanna know any of that.

Imagine being on anti depressents and rarely having a sex drive and then when you do your partner starts talking about their exes and tearing you apart for all your faults.

I love when you see peaks of Zendaya's cadence in roles.

Tension, what if's and he didn't even bring her up in his speech.

Marie to herself and the audience:

He is not afraid that he will loose her but as my character says in my unreleased story, "i can't wait til you give me a fucking reason to leave your ass." Malcolm expects everything in order for not even doing the bare minimum and she is only asking him for something as simple as consideration. She just wants him to be considerate. He wants to get married and considers their relationship like rolling down a hill at full speed and he cannot apologize, he cannot be considerate, and he cannot admit his wrongs. He can only offer her I love yous that he probably does mean but he does not back up outside of what he's done for her in the past. The past which was more of her experience than his and he sees his part in it as a burden. He doesn't use his own vantage point of the past to further his career he uses her. He does all of these things without a real apology or thankyou because he is not afraid to loose her.

The restrictions of quarantine and the panorama have made Sam's writing very no frills. I wonder how other films from other directors and writers that are filmed in small contained crews like this will be structured. But this was a very good movie gonna add to my letter box 3.3-3.5

Oh shit this is my song,

Ratings/overall thoughts:

Script is like a C+, B- : I could go into my heavier big brain thoughts on the script but I don't feel like it. You catch hints of it above it centers conversation on race and privilege, mainly the writers and questions i have that won't be answered but Sam did make me grow disdain for Malcolm over a short time. Which is sometimes hard to do because im one sympathetic person but the sympathy i have for Malcolm is at 0. Maybe a 2 at some scenes but then it quickly goes back to 0. Some parts of the dialogue miss the mark or hit the are off balanced. While some of it like Malcolm's bathroom speech albeit mean is really strong or their conversation when he comes back from peeing really shines for me.

Performances: B+ to A- because they carried the script further than it could of gone with less talented actors. The monologues do well to showcase their current skill levels which are already high af and leave room for anticipation in where these actors go next.

Zendaya holding a knife: A+ with a gold star. That switch on and off and on is delectable.

John being a shitty boyfriend but following Marie like a lost puppy: B+ with a good job written at the bottom of the paper, Malcolm being nervous a frantic dialed up with more realistic nervousness would have sold me completely on Malcolm's anxious waiting.

Cinematography: A and a participation award.

The mac and cheese: A+ for the easy mac. Wish it was like Annie's or Velveeta.

Cigarettes: Participation award and their picture hung up for student of the month. Why the grill lighter? Everytime Malcolm opened up his mouth Marie was like sparks fly.

The music: A++ with a prize. Whoever picked the music probably makes good Spotify playlists.

[hanjo-love]

Hai! How you doing lately? Fellow Hange-stan here. I want to know what you think of the writing on Hange’s character arc post time-skip. [P.S. hopefully it’s alright with you if we can continue to discuss about it after you answer if you decide to, that is]. :))

Hello lovely anonie ❤️ I'm so sorry for the late reply, but life has been quite a rollercoaster lately haha

Well tbh, I know this sounds pathetic af after almost two weeks have already passed, but I'm still trying to cope with the last chapter and the ending overall. I'm in the process of gathering my thoughts, deciding if I like it or not. And lemme tell you, it's quite exhausting haha

Every Hange-stan is very much appreciated and welcome here ❤️ looking forward to be exchanging my thoughts with you, ngl it's weird but it also makes me happy that someone's interested in my opinion haha ❤️

Okay so let's start talking but Hanjo ❤️ but beware, a long ass wannabe meta is ahead of y'all haha

Honestly, another thing I've had troubles with accepting and making my mind around was the fact that I didn't like how Yams treated Hanjo in the story overall and mostly past TS. I gotta tag lovely Sav @tundrainafrica cause she described it perfectly in one of her amazing metas and I'm constantly thinking about that so I'm gonna try quoting her now haha :"If the characters are Yams' children, we gotta accept the fact that Hange has always been his least favorite child. But the more Yams ignored her, the more we loved her. In fact, Hange was never a character who even needed a lot of panels or pushing and forcing for us to like her. Hange didn't even need Yams! She was always navigating the narrative by herself and that's why we love her." (Sorry Sav for not quoting you properly 😅❤️)

So what I'm trying to say is: did Yams purposly ignore Hanjo throughout the story? Unfortunately YES. Has this affected her character? Not at all. But it did affect the readers'/viewers' opinion about her, for sure.

It honestly makes me really sad when people hate on Hange and reduce her character to a "bad commander". Like guys... Are we reading the same manga? You don't need to be a Hange stan to realize how much Yams rushed and skipped everything past Marley arc. We know shit about what happened in those 4 years of TS. Just because Yams didn't show us anything, doesn't mean nothing happened in those 4 years. I'm not gonna start talking about how her job as a commander was very, VERY different than Erwin's, but there was something that caught my attention after watching the anime:

I never believed Yams when he tried to show us how Hange was a "bad commander" for not having a plan B to all the mess that was going on. No matter how much Yams tried to prove it (mainly because he wanted us to notice her insecurities and her being overwhelmed by this position and Erwin's legacy), I never bought it. Because we know Hanjo ffs! We know how smart and quick-witted she is and how she is the perfect candidate to take over Erwin's legacy of being the SC's Danchou.

The anime reassured my thoughts, cause if I remember it properly, in that scene we heard Hange's thoughts and at the end of her monologue she said "but what if..." before Eren threw a tantrum again lol

The next scene only added fuel to my fire, cause we've all been speculating about this and the last two chapters actually proved it:

We've been speculating about why Eren was getting his titans marks in this particular scene (dude, Yams made us look like clowns with our theories lmao which btw have less plot holes than the entire last arc of the manga, just saying). Moreover we've seen Eren getting his titan marks again while manipulating his friends' memories in ch138&139. So my conclusion is, Hange DID indeed have a plan B, but Eren decided to wipe that option out of her head in order to achieve his goals. Otherwise this particular scene makes no sense at all, but it was important enough to keep it in the anime.

In conclusion: I did absolutely NOT like how Yams handled Hange's character post TS. She didn't get enough "screen time" and whenever she got some panels, she was mainly shown as an insecure and overwhelmed commander (obviously not in all of her panels, thank God), which she absolutely was NOT. I also felt like most of the times she seemed to be (for Yams at least) just a placeholder between Erwin and Armin. And here comes my biased and petty ass: Hanjo was Yams' best written character. Period. She had so much depth and and potential, but Yams dropped her like a hot potato because he was overwhelmed by her and not able to deal with her character. That's it. That's the harsh truth y'all.

Anywayzzz, that's it for today's Ted talk lol thanks for the ask dear anonie. Have a lovely day ❤️

[redsloveletter]

"love letter lance"

(this is a creepypasta work of fiction.)

day 1

Dear Diary,

It’s me, Molly! Today at school I decided to sit next to the quiet kid at lunch! He’s actually really sweet! I don’t see why everyone makes fun of him. I think he really likes me! I hope we can be friends for a really long time! He had pretty fluffy brown hair and a plain dark purple hoodie! I really like his blue eyes! He always talks bad about them, but personally I find them soooo pretty!! My boyfriend Jack doesn’t like him very much though, which I don’t think makes sense at all? Oh I guess I should mention the quiet kid’s name is Lance! I hope Lance and I will get along well! Oh it’s about time to go to bed! Sign out until after school tomorrow!

You actually liked me.

day 2

Dear Diary,

Today Jack started beating up Lance at lunch!! Lance told me not to worry and it wasn’t my fault what Jack does..I still felt sorry!! I decided to give him some snacks after school so he could cheer up! If Jack pulls another stunt like that again then I’ll just have to break up with the guy! Jack could actually be a sweet guy sometimes! I seriously wonder why he doesn’t act that way to Lance! Anyways I have noticed something weird about Lance. Even though we’re friends whenever we have free time he’ll just watch me instead of coming up to me! Maybe I should just talk to him! Well goodnight!

What an ass.

day 3

Dear Diary,

Lance is starting to freak me out. First period he told me that I didn’t have to worry about people like Jack anymore, Then at lunch I didn’t see him which was weird because he never gets picked up early, and I saw him in the 3rd period! I doubt Lance did anything but still..maybe I should start watching him more in case he did do something to him. Lance also randomly started giving me snacks he made! Sometimes cookies or brownies! Overall he’s really sweet other than the concerning features! I am kind of thinking about letting him come over!! It would be a ton of fun! Well once again I’m getting tired! See you in tomorrow's diary!

they were delicious.

day 4

Help me..please. I invited him over and he won’t stop talking about..how he killed him..how he killed Jack..He said I could write to calm myself..he told me how he loved me so that he couldn’t bear seeing my upset..I want this to end..Lance always seemed so sweet..I’ll add more soon..

Update!! Lance keeps thinking I want him to kiss me! He isn’t forcing himself, but he definitely keeps trying! I honestly feel bad for Lance..if no one had hurt him in the first place he wouldn’t keep trying to keep someone for himself! He’s walking closer..I’ll update soon..

There is no update. Goodbye Molly.

day..6

I killed her. I loved her. I stabbed her. She was crazy herself though. She took the gun and shot out my eye. I must run away. I will record what I find in this journal. This is Lance mayors. The new writer of this diary from my dead love. I’ll miss you Molly….so much.

(thank you for reading! this will be something that I will continue to work on. please give me opinions on how to improve the story and maybe how to improve future stories of lance and his findings.)

[ranmanjuu]

—gen z mc with uesugi-takeda + misc. forces

ahh, i’m so glad people liked my gen z oda hcs! lol it’s usually pretty slow from my writing blog experiences until now, but i’m rlly happy! i was planning to do u-t and the others but then i decided to stop at oda and continue another day. thx for the asks tho! and yeah, i do take requests but it’s more of a pasttime, since this whole blog is just my stupid ideas written out and shared out there.

also someone said that a gen z mc could be old enough to romance the warlords, like, early twenties. and yes, very fair if u wanna romance ur mans with memes and existentialism go for it!! i just think it adds more to the comedy side of this child they have to babysit, while not fearing death or any consequences from their dumb of Ass decisions. someone who fears no death and armed with no braincells is a fool, but a Child who fears no death and armed with no braincells is also a fool, but more bizzare and has That Vibe y’know

@niphredil-14​ and @arthotsglasses​

tw: s*icidal, violent jokes treated in a light manner

also spoilers to some things of their characters

—kenshin:

who is this,, , sassy lost child??

he first saw you prepared to throw hands with ronins who were being Elite Dickheads. ofc, armed with nothing compared to the sworded-adults, he had to interfere.

no matter how cold he treated you, masking his secret !!!-like concern, you seemed so unfazed through it. you still interacted with him like normal,,,,, why?? do you want a death wish?

and each time he threatened you with,, anything, you responded with, “the only one who gets to hurt & kill me, is ME”

...... what?

he’s convinced you’re the biggest fool of a person. and he’d be right but even so, he has a weirdly strong need to protect you as you two got closer. you’re often with sasuke, so it’s harder to avoid you.

even with all the Horrible jokes you make on a daily basis, if your passionate side with everyone having equal rights of being treated as human, for him it shows a side of you that makes you seem precious and pure and kind hearted.

and the overprotective side increases.

which is, ,, a bit problematic sometimes cause you have the tendency to target and piss off anyone in a 10 meter range by just one (1) sassy comment, along with your lack of impulse control and blurting out everything in your mind. it’s made you a lot of short enemies in the sengoku period, and kenshin would always be ready to slice them down behind you.

sasuke has to tame him down with his Masters degree in kenshin-wrangling.

at banquets, kenshin would often have you beside him. if you’re too young for sake do age for drinking exist in sengoku? probably not. it’s more of sasuke advising for him to not give you alcoholic drinks he’ll have you pouring for him or just munching away at pickled plums or food.

—shingen:

(ngl i kinda had a hard time with this since it’s erasing a big part of his overall character,,, flirting)

once he heard the news that oda had taken in somone as young as you during honno-ji,, ,,,he’s in a very “how dare that demon >>:( taking such a pure soul,....”

and when you’re taken to kasugayama as a captive, you’re,,, surprisingly very calm and whelmed. you don’t have much sign of fear or anxiety in your overall demeanor meanwhile you’re busy dissociating and spacing out to feel those

you actually don’t seem to hate your captor. but shingen isn’t sure if your ‘fingerguns’ is a good thing or not cause it depicts you pointing guns @ him,, (dw is good shingen)

while yes being held hostage—no matter how good you’re being treated—isn’t ideal and kinda not very cash money, you consider shingen v chill. man has a kindheart!! “i diagnose you with good vibes.”

if he ever sees your righteous side, as everyone else, he’ll deeply admire you. he himself is someone who believes in such as well. and hearing the circumstances in the modern world regarding those things (blm, etc.) his heart truly does go out for you. he feels sympathy for such a young person like you having to take action

also your dirty humor around him, echigo’s player, kind of makes him question where and how you learnt it

and,, his illness.

through getting straight to the point and not falling for it each time he changes subject/dodges the question, you managed to get to the bottom of his illness. shingen himself thinks it’s not something you have to burden with knowing—you’re so, so young.

but that doesn’t matter to you. the world’s given you such a shit time, you’re mature enough to understand the situation at least.

and as he finishes his explanation, all there was is silence. it felt wrong to say any of your usual quips,, so all you did was slowly came there and hugged him.

that was more than what he’d ask for.

—sasuke:

oh hell yeah

you are in your element with him. the chillest guy to talk to, and probably the first one you’re the closest to

your phone was dead after like 2 days of use, and you were miserable while hideyoshi, like a typical parent, told you to go outside and into town. sensing your bad mood, sasuke asked what’s up. you deadpanned, “my phone game ended and now i’m ready to commit not breath.” you oslemnly look out in the bustling streets and clutched your fist like an Anime Protagonist, “those boomer memes were right all along... i am absolutely Miserable and Useless(^TM) without it.”

in response, you could’ve sworn he did the Anime Glasses thing as well, “then we at team Moderately Awesome Sengoku Ninja are happy to announce the launch of a DIY phone charger, made with the electricity from a fruit and the main functionality of a solar panel. and has more durability than samsung’s.”

there were Stars in your eyes now. with a big grin, you thank him, “i’d die for you, sasuke.”

“then perish.” he said with a blank look. (yukimura, in the bg: ???!!!??!??!?)

the next day he consentually breaks in through the ceiling and gives you the weird contraption. you’re now saved, soul-wise.

the memes start coming and they don’t stop coming from the two of you. in any situation. whether it’d be at a teahouse, or at a battlefield that can determine your life and death.

and you can have discussions about current world events, or the past ones, with him and he’d understand completely what you’re talking about. it’s those rare nights when you’ve been thinking and have a deep conversation with him in his room, and as an adult, it makes for interesting results as well.

the others are endlessly confused, but you’re both so unapologetically yourselves.

and he’s super protective if the circumstances are tough. he feels bad for dragging another person in the sengoku with him—much less when they’re so young like you.

if you’re enough of a lil shit, once you’re taken into kasugayama, in the nights where you can’t sleep because brain at what would be 3 am, you’d probably trudge over to his room and wake him up to tell him what kind of mind-blowing shit you realized.

—yukimura:

when he saved you from falling to your death, your reaction already set off weird Vibes inside him. what do you mean, “you stopped me from fleeing this fleeting world by the sweet embrace of death” ?!?!?! are you crazy?? yes

he doesn’t waste time getting blunt with you at all either.

once he goes into azuchi as a merchant, he silently observes you talking to sasuke for a bit. what’s with your weird language?? and crude humor???? never in his life has he met someone in your age act like that wtf

even so, he still operates on the basis of ‘‘if sasuke trusts you, i trust you’’, no matter how utterly concerned you make him feel

you have a dirtier mind than him! unsurprisingly. along with everyone else, you often tease the poor soul, a nd you’d gladly tell him what the innuendoes mean ( 69, etc.) and maybe sprinkle in some gay jokes in there

and why do you keep mentioning this “bromance between him and sasuke” ?? what us,,, a bromance????? and why is sasuke in it??

he takes you out to teahouses to eat chestnut dumplings and other desserts with you. you always seem to target the one he doesn’t like the most and have a bit of banter

your relationship is built on banter but what’s different rlly

he treats you much more maturely than other people your age. as in, he doesn’t pull back his punches in words most of the time. you don’t seem to around him also, it looks like.

and, he’s also very protective of you. he regards you as his little sibling, as rat as you may be. and he does care about you—he might just be a bit unwilling to say it

—yoshimoto:

you think he’s very chill, if a bit unique but who were you to judge. and he is, if you ever meet him in echigo or even azuchi

his big liking to art and something of apathy to people is osmething you can respect. there’s something about that kind of Vibe that you find oddly a mood.

and oh boy oh boy you wasted no time pulling up your phone and showing images of what art is in the future. whether it’d be a screenshot of anime, fanart, aesthetic-like ones, palette-themed—the whole shabang. 

and, somehow, you were left ranting to him  about how some artists in the future get it so shitty for theft, reposting, not crediting, the list goes on (please be a decent human being to artist, sincerely the author) and he can’t help but just listen in silence and kind of thinking about how you’re so passionate about the Struggles of artists. and it isn’t something he sees often in the sengoku era—where war rules most things.

and he does find art from the modern times interesting, how they’re so different and vast in styles. and not only that, it’s not like the future only has one major style like then, each hand can draw such different pictures and still have beauty in each. he appreciates and admires that.

and he does tell you his thoughts ^ while you give your own insight. it’s so fascinating to see someone like you having strong opinions on this.

because, well, rn art is a big thing in our lives as we’re stuck inside. a part of entertainment is looking at any media of art—and he finds his view of art and yours quite the same. you two came from a time of turmoil (one moreso than the other) but still think art isn’t exactly irrelevant just because it isn’t a cure to diseases or the Ultimate Weapon.

you had to Surgically Remove him from your phone so you can use it and to stop him from draining your battery looking at the art

and he often drags you out to town and admire pieces when you’re holing yourself in too much. your comments are always unknown to him, “radical”, “that’s one i can vibe with ngl”, and the list goes on.

and you occasionally call him pretty boy as a compliment rlly

—kennyo:

when you first saw him at honno-ji, and he won’t forget the one (1) line you gave him, all you said to his warning of ooo spooky demons was, “that’s lit fam gtg tho”

and that alone was enough to stun him for a few seconds

honestly you told the others of your meeting with kennyo before they told you it could be kennyo. just a throaway line of “oh yeah there was this dude with a scar across his face.” / “,,, ,....that’s kennyo. he’s really dangerous actually—” / “oh, poggers”

you’re probably kind of half the reason the oda forces found who dun it.

and it was an eye for an eye, kennyo himself found out that you were their child chatelaine, and very close to the others. as per his villain-schedule, he kidnaps you .

he laments about how “such a pure soul such as yours is not to be stained by the demon’s hands”

oh how Wrong he was.

you were the definition of the opposite of pure. and you seemed unfazed, which surprised kennyo but shrugged it off. he was willing to face you screaming and panicking, along with shouldering the sin of doing the deed. but instead, he was met with a raised eyebrow and, “this is unexpected and probably not welcomed but what am i doing here.”

he was stunned for a moment before explaining what he can. 

“......... fuck.”

he cringed ever so slightly at your curse. but your attention seems to stray so quickly off of the fact that you were bounded and helpless, to the fact that you have the man doing unspeakable things to civilians and you absolutely don’t approve.

throwing your common sense to maybe be civilized, you went off on a rant of how human rights and how to not be an ass to him. all he could do was just listened, shocked to even cut you off.

when he did, he gave the whole ‘unsaved demon’ shtick, and you weren’t taking that kinda shit. he believed he was truly unsaved—you knew that. but that doesn’t make it okay.

eventually, he left you with a cold end of the conversation.

he admires your spirit in a way—but with what he’s experienced,,, it’s a bit of unreachable for him.

if at any point you saw the soft side of his with animals, you just gaped at him for a split second and whispered, “the gap moe is strong with this one.”

also old man died inside when you said that you’d fight god, along with many things.

all in all, to him, you’re insufferable. but weirdly,, fascinating.

you’ve totally ok boomer’d him once cause he rlly looks old

—motonari:

,,. if your speech to kennyo was bad, he’s going to rant hell.

motonari already knew you were interesting even when his men just spied on you. your behavior, so brash and impulsive, is going to be so fun to have, he thinks.

through some planning to stir up more chaos, he kidnaps you and brings you unto his ship. same as kennyo, you showed no clear sign of surprise, and that’s when he decided you were either used to this in any way, or a fool. both answers, he liked.

you’re kind of really confused on why he’s doing what he’d doing. “i get it, i like to stir up chaos myself but it’s harmless,, most of it—but not until the people are in danger, bitch.”

and by that line, motonari leans towards you with a deadly smirk, “now, i can bite, ‘kay kid? you don’t wanna be in the receiving end... do you?”

“do it, coward.”

and before he could let out even a wheeze of laughter, you continued on on a lecture of, again, not being a dick and letting people live their life in peace. and much less all of this damage, for what? chaos?? yeah you wanted to see the world burn but it wasn’t literally.

however, his patience was running thin. he shuts you up forcefully, and leaves.

even so, after a cooldown period, he still talks to you (,,,, well, that’s kind of a generous term) because, right he was, you were so fun in his eyes.

an interesting observation he made,,, was that you picked up on his big dislike of physical contact. and he’d think with how annoying you were at times, that you’d weaponize it. but you didn’t—in fact, you kept your space (not that you were planning to get close) and respected his boundaries.

he thinks you a bit of peculiar for that decision, some wary, and perhaps naive.

one of the days—the more dangerous ones—he was planning to take you to the oda as bait or something. and you weren’t taking it like that. two days before arrival, a storm racked up. you stood upon the edge of the ship with the rest of the crew watching you like you were a madman.

“the oda won’t want me if i’m dead, would they now?”

motonari stands in his composure, guffawing, “all i need is to make sure they believe you’re alive, kid.”

a smile that showed absolutely no fear and 1000 percent spite spread in your face, “not unless i decimate my own body until all the trail left is my blood. the only one who gets to do that shit to me, is me.”

finally, a look of wavering shows in his face.

you were saved last minute,, and the rest is history.

[orbitariums]

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟒)

part three

note - i wanna thank everyone for reading once again! i'm currently in the process of writing imagines, those will be posted throughout the week, i don't want to clog up my blog bc i want y'all to see this chapter!

this one switches pov a lil more frequently, so bear with me <3 also not as smutty as other chapters, this is more of an emotionally-charged chapter!!! still a teensy bit smutty thooo. i want to make it clear that while this fic is definitely rooted in smut & sex & sex work, it is not porn without plot & will not ONLY be smut as i put effort and time into plot development / character development! i'm sure y'all know that tho. there will be conflict, there will be plot!!! i feel like that's clear already but there's discourse on smut happening rn and i wanna voice myself! omg anyways luv y'all enjoy the reaaad <3

new taglist!

playlist

word count - 8.3k

warnings - age gap, sex work, smut, vibrator, ANGSTYYY like hella dramatic, dirty talk

That slight shift that you and Steve both felt, that happiness that you realized came from talking to one another, only lasted so long... for you. You could hardly sit in your feelings about your situation with Steve before another thing that occupied all your time came crashing down upon you. Except this time, the thing brought you no such happiness or curiosity.

    You had spent almost your entire senior year working on a special lab project about drought tolerant plants in Southern California where you lived and went to school, and your professor was making completing your project incredibly hard for you. And you felt incredibly stressed out about the entire situation - not only was the project necessary to graduate, but it was your heart and soul for the past year. Now, your professor was basically saying it was "ineligible."

     "Ineligible?" Aaliyah repeated after you, after you told her what your professor had said.

     "Whatever the hell that means," you huffed as you power walked down the street, hand in hand with Aaliyah, your free hand holding a coffee.

     "That's so fucking annoying, holy shit," Aaliyah pressed a hand to her forehead. "He had the whole year to talk to you about changing your topic and...”

     "And he never did," you sighed, frowning. You settled down onto a bench where the two of you sat next to each other, staring out into the busy streets and sipping your iced coffees.

California was a beautiful place, and you were a native, you'd lived there all your life. You knew the ins and outs of your city, knew Southern California like it was your backbone. And you loved it here - loved the sun, the beaches, the way the people were either shady in the best way or incredibly friendly. You'd never really known any other place like you knew this place. You were just glad that if you had to be stressed, you could do so in California.

Aaliyah pouted, feeling for you. She placed her hand on your knee to be comforting,

     "Babe..."

     "It's okay," you sighed. You sucked it up, like always, because you had learned how to fend for yourself ever since you realized that depending on others could only lead to downfall. You would figure this out the same way you figured everything else out... on your own. You figured out your house on your own, your job, your finances.

     "Is it, though?" Aaliyah pursed her lips and squinted at you. Despite how much you tried to fend for yourself, Aaliyah was always there for you. She was one of your biggest supporters.

     "I'll just keep visiting during his office hours and work this out."

Aaliyah rolled her eyes,

     "Men are so annoying, girl. You know what, he probably wants to fuck you. With your fine ass. That's why he's doing all this."

You chuckled, shaking your head and covering your mouth, trilling back in response,

       "Okay girl, don't get too ahead of yourself."

       "I'm serious! Men are evil. Oh, except your fave."

You made a face, nearly choking on your iced coffee. This was news to you,

       "Who are we talking about?"

       "You know," Aaliyah sang slightly, nudging you and leaning against your shoulder. "Mr. Won't Show His Face."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, but bit down on your straw with a knowing smile, eyes peeking out over the top of your shades. If you were being honest, this idea of Steve, whoever he really was, had been a fun thing to entertain during this period of stress. You'd been talking and engaging with him for two and a half weeks now, and the connection you two had was undeniable.

But you knew better - maybe he wasn't just another customer, because you could really talk to him and felt like he was real - then again, he was strictly a customer. You liked him, a lot, but you couldn't like him any more than you already did. That would be dangerous and silly, and create unrealistic expectations. It wasn't like you could go on dates or anything.

    Still, talking to him (and performing for him) did help to distract you from your stress, at least for a small amount of time. Steve was becoming less shy, less inhibited. He cracked jokes and was starting to keep up with your innate sense of sexuality, starting to navigate you, find you the way a bee might find its nectar, hidden deep inside the curvatures of a flower.

If you were a flower, you'd probably be a sunflower - bright, yellow, almost always in a positive mood, or at least trying to keep yourself in a positive mood. More than that though, sunflowers were tall and looming - you felt like that represented your put togetherness and how hard you worked, how smart you were. Only sometimes it was hard to keep yourself up and tall, but you always did it, time and time again.

But when it came to Aaliyah's comments about Steve, she mostly just made you laugh.

    "Haven't seen him yet, have you?" Aaliyah asked, raising her brows expectantly.

     "No. And I'm fine with that. He's simply another very loyal customer who I happen to like."

     "Hm," Aaliyah hummed, and you could tell her mind was up to something - some very wishful, and mischievous thinking.

     "What are you up to?" you narrowed your eyes at her and glared at her, and she just shook her head with a lazy smile,

     "Nothing. Just thinking that maybe it would be cool if he really was this really hot guy that you actually knew and he wasn't creepy and y'all... you know... started dating. Just to get your mind off a lot of crap. I know, I know, strictly against the rules, blah blah blah. No feelings for customers, it's basic shit. But in a perfect world..."

      "I know," you sighed without thinking, sipping at your drink.

     "You know?" Aaliyah questioned, surprised.

You shrugged,

     "So I've thought about it. Except, you know, in a perfect world, I'd meet a guy like Steve in like, a farmer's market or something. Not on my shady ass cam shows."

Aaliyah snorted laughing, and at the sound of her laughter, you joined in.

You continued,

     "I mean, not Steve exactly, because that would be weird. I just mean, a guy like Steve."

     "You mean a guy who makes you feel the same way he makes you feel," Aaliyah corrected you, and you glared at her again, pushing her gently.

     "Don't push it," you teased, but you meant it - you might have liked Steve, but that was all there was to it - you liked him, he was a distraction. And maybe even that was too much.

✺ ✺ ✺

As for Steve, he thoroughly enjoyed his time with you. He thought constantly about how you made him feel, how much he looked forward to talking to you. How everyday, his worry about your situation becoming more serious dissipated slowly. He could feel himself easing into you, everything that made up this character you created called Moonrose. Conversation seemed casual, like you knew each other in real life, it felt easy, and there was no pressure.

As for your connection, he had finally acknowledged that it was real, and more than either of you had wanted to realize at first. But now, there was no shame, no worry in acknowledging what the two of you had, because you were both smart enough to keep it at this level. It was like a shallow pool. There would be no drowning.

He mostly talked to Bucky about you when it came to the emotional aspect of it. He still feared that if he talked to Tony, it might come across as an issue, and might put a pause on what he had with you. But everyone noticed how different Steve was acting. Even without the phase he had gone through where he was sexually frustrated and angry, he still acted different.

Lighter on his feet, more smiley. And he was always on top of his work. You weren't distracting him from his duty, so that made the fact that he knew you had a unique connection with him more bearable. Because of you, he was learning to worry less. To have a little more fun.

    It was a bright day that week, the sun filtering in through the large windows of the meeting room where everyone was gathered. Steve was engaging in some mindless conversation with Sam and Bucky in which they were debating whether or not pineapple belonged on pizza.

     "No. I'm not sure why everyone keeps trying to put all these twists on pizza. It's pizza," Bucky scoffed, Sam rolling his eyes as a result.

    "You're just closed off. With your old ass," Sam retorted, and Steve made a face. Sam raised his hands up in surrender. "You know what I mean. What about you Steve?"

Honestly, Steve had never even tried pineapple on pizza and he didn't understand why there was such a big fuss about the banal question.

    "I don't really have an opinion," he shrugged, not expecting Sam and Bucky to start clamoring over him and trying to force him to pick a side.

    Before he even got to grasp the situation, he felt Natasha patting his shoulder,

"Hey, mind if I use your laptop? Mine's gone haywire, don't really feel like messing with it right now."

"Yeah," Steve agreed without a second thought, setting his laptop on the table and letting Natasha handle it- she was better with tech stuff than he ever was.

Natasha would use his laptop to showcase some data and start off their morning. It seemed innocent enough —a simple, barely impacting sacrifice. But Steve clearly hadn't thought everything through, because the moment Natasha logged in and hooked up Steve's computer to the holographic projector, more than just data appeared on the screen.

In fact, a whole array of women, all of them engaging in various sexual acts or preparing themselves to, showed up on the screen. And at the top, where the browser was, were the words "girlsonfilm.com."

Steve hadn't noticed all the clamor, too busy thinking (thoughts of you and thoughts of work), until Bucky called it to his attention.

"Steve," he nudged him frantically, his voice a loud whisper.

When Steve looked up at the screen, his face couldn't have gone any redder. He hadn't thought about this at all, and he had clearly forgotten to close out his browser. His heart sunk all the way to his stomach - because it wasn't just Natasha seeing this, it was everybody. And that included Tony, who was glaring pointedly at Steve from the head of the table. Meanwhile, all the others were too busy heckling Natasha and making brash comments about what was appearing onscreen. To Steve's relief, your face didn't show up, but this just might have been worse than only your screen appearing.

     "Woah, Nat, I didn't know you got down like that!" Sam hooted, cupping his mouth with his hands.

Natasha, though she was in shock as well, rolled her eyes,

     "This is Steve's laptop."

Now a hush, then another clamor of confusion and heckling, all directed towards Steve. He couldn't recoil any more, feeling the pangs of embarrassment as his eyes flashed between every one of his teammates. He felt as if there were an asteroid approaching fast, and he was right where it would land, too slow to move out of its way.

     "Steve, what do you know about 'girls on film'?" Sam nearly cackled, reading the name of the site.

Steve sighed deeply, locking eyes with Natasha as he mouthed "turn it off" to her.

     "I am, I am," she ensured him, quickly disconnecting the laptop from the projection, unplugging completely.

A beat passed, everyone staring expectantly at Steve, who was staring down at the table, trying to process his own thoughts. Like for starters, why didn't he log out the last time, and why didn't he remember to log out? And then his mind went to deeper places. He hadn't been intentionally secretive with his actions, but he had been intentionally private. It had to do with his own growth, he was learning how to navigate a world that was new to him and somehow helping him at once. He didn't want to have to share this with everyone, it was nice having this to himself, he had no intentions of revealing what he had been doing in his past time that made him so happy.

One of the reasons he didn't want everyone to know about his situation was because he didn't want to have to be concerned with what everyone else might think. Because to begin with, being on a site for cam shows wasn't exactly everyone's idea of what Captain America might be up to these days.

It was a matter of his image, what values he was supposed to hold. This didn't exactly match, and Steve had just gotten over the idea that he was a bad, sneaky person because of what he chose to indulge in. At least here he knew it was ethical and not causing harm to you as a human being.

He also didn't want to have to deal with the insufferable questioning and teasing his team would put him through, or the judgment he thought they might put him through. He felt embarrassed, exposed, and like he had been ill prepared for a situation like this. He was just grateful they hadn't seen more, because that would've been a disaster. What they had seen was only at the surface level of what he'd been doing.

But his thinking was interrupted by Tony's voice, which broke through all the silence, and made Steve realize again the eyes that were on him.

     "Well, jig's up," Tony sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Care to explain?"

Steve locked eyes with Tony, as if hopeful that he wouldn't have to, but he knew it was best for him to just spit it out. Tony shrugged apologetically, and Steve took in a deep sigh, looking around at everyone at the table.

     "What was that?" Scott whimpered, probably the most distraught by what they had all seen.

Steve nodded solemnly and began to explain himself. He would tell the truth, but that didn't mean he had to tell them everything. You would be left out of this, if anything. He'd just explain to them that sometimes, duty calls - and sometimes, it's not at all work-related.

✺ ✺ ✺

It was just hours before your cam show when another disaster struck, the first one being the fact that your professor was giving you shit about your project. You were in the bathroom, getting ready for your show, fixing your hair up and doing your makeup, laying out an outfit, doing all the things you did to feel pretty before a show.

    Your phone lay beside you on the bathroom table, pinging with messages every now and then. You ignored it, leaning closer into the mirror to get a look at your lipstick, dabbing your fingers into the pigment on your lips.

You smiled, feeling that gratifying sense of achievement. Despite what was going on with your professor, you felt like you were doing well in life. You usually had a positive mindset, enjoyed your work although you sometimes felt as if you were buried deep in all your occupations: student, office worker, cam girl, designer, young woman. Your life was never dull, and you wouldn't trade it for anything. Talking to Steve helped too, but it was more than that.

But that sense of satisfaction all seemed to dissolve when you looked down at your phone, and saw a text from an unsaved number, glaring bright on your glowing lock screen of you hiking with Aaliyah. Still, you recognized it immediately.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

I miss you. Text me back.

✺ ✺ ✺

Steve wasn't exactly keen on joining your live show today, but he did so anyway, because he still had time to himself despite the spiral of events that had happened earlier. There was nothing else to do, and he didn't want to miss out on you after attending almost all of your shows for the past almost three weeks. Didn't want to just leave unexpectedly.

It felt strange that he felt this tug of commitment, but he brushed it off. He was just fulfilling his needs, which should even be expected of him. He was stressed again, after being caught up like he was. And maybe that was all the more reason not to watch your show tonight, but he wouldn't devoid himself of the simple pleasures of life. He'd learned that lesson a while ago, from a special someone called Moonrose.

After everything transpired, he explained himself calmly to his team, slowly to ensure that they'd understand that this wasn't the beginning of a deviant phase, that he wasn't throwing away his work responsibilities to lurk on the NSFW side of the internet. Not that they ever thought that to begin with, they never questioned his abilities or his authority for a minute, not even in the midst of what they'd seen that had shocked them.

This was the product of Steve's own insecurities and his admittedly silly fear that he was somehow letting his team down. He told them that he was on the site, as recommended by Tony, to relieve some "frustration" that he felt he didn't have the time or the means to release in real life. He said that while it had helped him do that, he wasn't throwing away his responsibilities, nor was he dependent on the site or the things on it, or the people on it for that matter.

He knew that if they knew about you, all those private sessions, all those conversations you'd had, the connection you had built between the two of you, it might be a different story. But because they didn't, they appreciated his honesty. They were confused, it didn't seem like the kind of thing Steve would be into, and he ensured them that it was a shock to him as well.

But they didn't mind on the whole, it was just a shock to everyone at first. They didn't think it called for a meeting, thought it was almost humorous how serious Steve was being about such a trivial situation. Wanda had joked about how we've all been there, Thor denied ever having to do such a thing because: "I have all the romantic partners anyone could ask for. I could introduce you Steve, but these Asgardian women are fiery, far beyond anything I believe you could handle." In the end, Steve was relieved, felt like it didn't have the disastrous outcome he'd been expected.

But he could feel his guard slowly coming back up. That was a close call, and it was a little too close for comfort. He didn't want to disregard you, but he couldn't afford to sink further in, and get his team involved. He just didn't want to face the consequences he could imagine if they knew how much he decided to stick with you, how much you talked, how it was teetering off the range of normal customer to cam girl interaction.

It wasn't like he was careless when it came to his interactions with you, but he also didn't want his team to know about his business when it came to you. He didn't want them thinking he was engaging too much, didn't want it to get to the point where he was worrying again or felt like he needed to deny himself such wonderful feelings.

All these things were on his mind while he waited for your live show to start. When it did, and he saw your face, he felt a little bit alleviated. Just for now, he could have this fantasy to himself. If they knew about the site, so be it. At least he had you to himself.

      "Hey guys," you mustered a smile, waving to the camera.

Unbeknownst to your viewers, you had spent the past few hours off camera panicking, on the verge of tears, calling Aaliyah frantically so she could help calm you down. That text from that mysterious unknown number had been from your ex's number. The same ex who made you fall into dependency patterns that you worked so hard to get out of, the one who made you feel like you had to work for his love. Like it wasn't something you deserved, just like anyone else.

You had worked so hard to finally wring out all the effects of him, all the bad habits you had fallen into because of him. That was part of the reason why you worked so hard. Not because you were actively avoiding him specifically, but because you were actively bettering yourself. You weren't looking for a relationship. But you knew that if you were in one now, the same things would never happen to you.

When you got that text, it triggered a flood of memories. Feelings you had to work to suppress and actually get over for months so you wouldn't fall back into the same desperate, needy patterns when it came to your relationships with people. All over a simple text from someone you hadn't heard from in almost a year. It hurt you how easy it was to get you to crack, even if you didn't spill out all the way. But on top of the added stress because of school, you were damn close.

You would do the show tonight, anyway. It helped you to escape, although Moonrose was a part of you, it didn't one hundred translate into real life. So in a way, this helped you escape real life. Just for a while. Just like Steve.

You grinned when you saw concerned comments from your watchers:

johnGuy182

Are you okay, moonrose? You seem a little sad.

zenongirl

Girl r u ok? i missed seeing your face!!!

     "Guys, I'm okay," you grinned. And you actually felt better seeing comments from your supporters. It reminded you to cheer up - they were looking for a good show, not a sob story. You leaned back, revealing your stomach in the sheer, sparkly fringed bra you chose to wear (another piece you had designed by yourself). "It's been a looong day."

Steve watched silently, observing your behavior. He didn't notice drastic changes, but you did appear less chipper. Then again, he brushed it off. He didn't expect you to be smiley all the time, you were human too, and this was your work.

"But I'm okay," you reassured, giving that signature grin, genuine and charming and alluring. You were trying to gently distract yourself, get into your act. "I hope you're all just as lovely as I am. I have a special game for you today."

You directed your viewers to your spinning wheel, which you had been working on crafting that week for a game. You grinned as you spinned it. Each act on the wheel cost a certain amount of tokens, and by the end of the game you would garner a bunch of funds. The show went by relatively quickly as you played the game, eventually ending up completely naked.

As ordered by the spinning wheel, you were to use a vibrator. You held it against your clit at the highest setting as you watched the numbers of viewers and the tokens jump up, Steve watching as he stroked himself leisurely. Your legs shook as you restrained yourself from your orgasm so as to increase the length of your showtime, garner more coins to encourage you to come.

     "Mm," you moaned, massaging the vibrator against your clit, getting wetter and slicker by the minute, sliding the toy between your folds. You laughed, breathless. "Fuck, this thing is so powerful. Someone make me come, please make me come. Just a few more tokens for me to come for you."

Steve was hesitant, but he decided to go ahead and give you the amount of tokens you needed. And when you heard the chime of the tokens being added to your account, and saw the name it was attached to, it was like a blast of euphoria. When your legs started to shake, when you started to moan and your stomach started to rise up and down, it was genuine. It was like you were back in a private room with him, although you weren't.

Your orgasm was blood-curdling in the best way, and you felt like you were releasing part of the stress of the past day, the past week. It didn't get any realer than this, once again you felt like he was really there to satisfy you.

      "Oh!" you exclaimed, your mouth dropping open and your blood flowing, moaning. "Yes, Steve, I'm coming for you. Thank you for making me come, Steve!"

Steve had been stroking himself along with you as he watched, and only let himself come now that you had come, his cheeks heating up as he heard you moan his name, something he hadn't been expected. Something about you saying his name like that where everyone could hear, even though he enjoyed the intimacy of private rooms, felt victorious. It felt lewd, salacious, but he couldn't help but enjoy that aspect of it. He moaned through grit teeth while he came, stroking himself to completion.

You came down, thanking everyone for attending and ending the show. But it wasn't long after that you had requested Steve for a private chat. He accepted, because he had gotten used to you doing this a little more frequently. It didn't scare him any more, he just thought of it as making conversation, taking advantage of this connection you had with each other. So when you requested, who was he to say no.

When the chat log opened, you put on your best happy face for Steve, trying to conceal how fatigued this week, today in particular, had made you. But your tired, bleak voice gave it all away, buried deep beneath your smile,

    "Hey, Steve."

Steve was surprised at the sound of your voice. Again, while he understood that you wouldn't be a happy go lucky fairy like personality all the time, he wasn't expecting this. You were smiling, but the weariness in your eyes was hard to miss. And your voice, which usually told light hearted tales, sounded worn down as if from tragedy. He was concerned, his eyebrows furrowed gently,

     "Hi. How are you?"

     "I'm good!" you exclaimed, trying your hardest to really sound "good."

But you were just tired. Tired and sad, and scared - scared of what the future had to hold. You were already dealing with school stress, and the text from your ex-boyfriend was like a bad omen, an anxiety-provoking assurance that things actually would not get better and they would in fact get progressively worse. You weren't even sure why you thought you should be talking to Steve if you were tired and just wanted to sleep off the weight of the week. It would be a weekend tomorrow, and one of your very rare days off.

Maybe you figured that you wanted to talk to him despite your fatigue, because conversation with Steve was a nice distraction. You had let yourself forget that this was still your job, and that you were too tired for anything sexual — you knew he liked talking to you, but you hadn't put into consideration the fact that he might request a sexual act from you. You would be burnt out if he did. The fact that you didn't think about that should've been telling, but your brain was too scattered to think straight.

Anyway, Steve called your bluff, and laughed quietly, his voice inquiring and pressing,

      "How are you really?"

That was all it took to get a deep sigh to come from out of you, all it took to allow yourself to show your true feelings, at least the surface of them, what you felt comfortable showing a customer. You felt a sense of relief and gratefulness for Steve, like he was letting you breathe. And if anything, he especially wasn't enlisted to listen to your problems. But he wanted to, and for that you felt foolishly grateful.

    Steve noted the deep sigh that came from out of you, and he frowned slightly. He could tell you had been holding this in for a while, and some part of him felt remorse for the fact that even though you clearly weren't in the right mindset, you went on and did your show anyway. He felt some guilt for being a part of the reason why you did your show.

    You answered, allowing your voice to be as honest as possible.

    "Honestly?" you chuckled a little, albeit bitterly. "I don't know if you really want to hear me rant to you."

Steve shook his head.

    "Don't be silly," he grinned. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to."

You felt a warm rush in your chest from the reassurance, and the corner of your lip quirked up in a small smile, before you decided to dive in. You'd spare the emotional details, spare your private life. But it would be nice to talk to someone, just about the general things, right?

    "Well, it's been a pretty stressful week, honestly. I mean, school's been the main source of my stress. My professor's such an asshole, he's basically been telling me my entire senior project, which I need to complete to graduate, needs to be redone? And I can't even fathom how I would have enough time to do that with like, two and a half months left of my senior year. I mean, he said I can keep most details, but I'd have to rework it, whatever that means."

    You kept your emotions at bay, sighing in annoyance just at the story you told, because it really was irritating you. But then you felt deeper things, even more went into why you really were upset.

    Steve nodded, just listening. He was prepared to offer advice, but in your situation, he thought that maybe just letting you rant would be best.

    "That's gotta be annoying," he shook his head understandingly. "Whatever your project is, I'm sure it's wonderful. He shouldn't be forcing you to rework it or make any last minute changes."

    "I know!" you nearly jumped up, feeling amped up now. "And it's just so fucking annoying because I work so hard and I'm really passionate about this project and it just feels like..."

    It felt like you were about to overflow, like a pot of water that had been left on for too long. You were ranting almost uncontrollably now, maybe because of the fact that it was more than this that was tugging at you. Because you'd been carrying the weight of your life on your shoulders all the time, like Atlas carrying the sky, and it felt like that weight was finally starting to mean something.

    Steve could see you were unraveling and he let you, he let you take the time you needed to feel everything you had been holding. If your connection was strong, it was at its strongest here. Sure, you and Steve chatted about a little bit of everything, even had deeper conversations here and there as the weeks went by. But you had yet to genuinely complain to him, because every time you spoke with him, you were happy go lucky Moonrose, with nothing to complain about to begin with. But now, you needed a release by any means, and you were just glad Steve was there for you, even if he wasn't really there. How unlike you to unfold in front of strangers.

   Your breath stuttered as you took in a deep breath in a failed attempt to calm down, only further driving yourself into your rambling. You felt yourself tear up, your voice becoming watery as you continued,

    "It just feels like all my work is turning to shit, and it's so fucking frustrating because I work so hard all the time, I do so much and I manage so much all the time."

     The "hard work" you were talking about wasn't just school and work-related, it pertained to your journey, and how hard you had worked to be a better person. To support yourself. The emotions pent up inside of you, they were more than just being upset over a school project. The idea of someone toxic trying to re-enter your life, someone who had forced you to rework the entirety of your life, made you feel like you were on the verge of crashing. You knew better, but you didn't want to return to those dark days, where the light at the end of the winding tunnel that was your relationship seemed so far away. It was why you were so weary of relationships today. It was crazy how one person could change your life so easily.

     Now you were crying, before you even noticed that you were crying. Tears just seemed to leak out of your eyes, sloshing wet and sudden against your cheeks and underneath your lashes. You wiped them away quickly with the back of your hand, frazzled at the fact that you were crying in front of a customer right now. Steve said he'd listen to you, he didn't say he'd watch you cry and be your therapist. You instantly regretted it, although you couldn't stop yourself, tears threatening to emerge again. If you were cracked before, you were spilling now.

    Steve was surprised too, at the fact that you were crying. You appeared so put together to him, it was almost something he didn't expect from you. He was in shock at first, so much so that professionalism was not on his mind - it was an afterthought. Right now, instead of wondering if this was appropriate, he was occupied with you.

    "I'm sorry," you murmured, but you still hadn't stopped, tears falling out as you blinked. Composure was nothing now, you were sobbing, your shoulders slumped and your head hung as you sniffled. Still you enforced control, wiping away every tear that fell with the back of your hand. "I'm really sorry, I don't mean to cry to you over this, that's so-"

Steve cut you off, shaking his head slowly,

    "It's okay to cry, doll. We all have those days. I know better than anyone that we all have those days."

    You mustered a smile, feeling cared for, feeling accounted for by someone who wasn't even obligated to have to see you like this. Still you shook your head, sniffling,

    "I know. But it's-it's stupid, I shouldn't be crying in front of you."

    "I'm not judging you," Steve said, so nonchalantly and firmly, so genuine that it almost scared you.

You blinked. He should've cared, and he should've judged you. To cry in front of Steve, a customer, was to imply he had some duty to comfort you when he probably just wanted a show. You knew that you didn't have to do anything you didn't want to, but even you had rules when it came to what your customers got to see, and to you, that meant they didn't have to deal with your blues.

     "Really?"

     "Really," he reassured you with a nod.

    Was Steve scared that by giving you this reassurance, this entire situation could become deeper than either of you could handle? Yes. But did he let himself shut down because of those pervasive thoughts that he might get himself into trouble? No. He didn't see you as a liability right now. Right now, even though the situation was certainly questionable (and this was something he had no doubt about. When emotions get into the mix, things could get tricky- he knew this), he saw you as someone who desperately needed someone to talk to. Maybe it wasn't smart of you to make him that someone, but regardless, he was, and who was Steve Rogers not to listen to a person in need?

    You blinked away the last of your tears and swallowed hard. You were making this choice consciously, to tell Steve what had really gotten you to your breaking point. And maybe telling him meant you had trust in him, maybe too much trust for someone who, while great, was still a customer. But you felt like there was nothing you could lose from telling him. Maybe you'd even feel better after the fact.

    You looked down, picking at the body glitter on your arm that you had applied before the show. Your voice was considerably quieter now perhaps because you were looking back on the moment with a clear mind for the first time since it happened. You hadn't been thinking straight ever since you received the text just hours ago. Now your brain was a little quieter with the help of your tears and Steve's reassurance.

       "I think that the stress of this school project is making me resent how hard I work for everything, just to be met with this kind of result, you know? And it's even worse when... things seem to be going backwards. You know, like when you make so much progress, moving on from things that don't serve you, and you've finally done it and you get to flourish in it and then, it just gets taken away from you. Maybe I'm being dramatic, but that's just how this feels."

     Steve nodded, his jaw ticking as he let your words settle in. Somehow, although your situation was so different from his, he felt like your words perfectly described how he felt with the world sometimes. It was even part of the reason he'd held off on talking to you like this, held off on getting too involved. He too had made so much progress in this world, which took so much getting adjusted to in a way that absolutely nobody else could relate to.

    It was a world that he didn't even know, a world that he had never been properly introduced to. He'd had to fend for himself. He did his healing on his own, just like you had. And yet sometimes it felt like he had no control, like the universe was going the opposite way of all his plans. Then he felt stupid for even having plans to begin with, because in life, making plans was like comedy for the gods.

    There was a weird feeling in his chest and stomach, like he'd been stabbed with a gutting realization, and the knife was just turning inside of him, churning his insides. He began to feel a sense of unease, because this deep conversation was beginning to feel incredibly personal. Even though you were talking about your own situation, he couldn't help but think about how much he resonated, and the fact that he felt like he could relate to you on such a deep level scared him. This was more than the conversations you'd had before, more than the simple similarities you and Steve shared. This felt like a conversation that might be too telling for his good and your own.

     He swallowed his words as he listened to you continue. You chose your words carefully, but you had shed yourself of your inhibitions when it came to being truthful.

     "Earlier... I heard from someone I hadn't heard from in a long time. And it kind of pushed me over the edge," out of your mouth stumbled a laugh. You were calmer now, and looked up at the camera, Steve swallowing hard when you did so. It was all so real, just like it was when you touched yourself and moaned Steve's name. "I think it just made me feel all those things I just explained. Because I feel like I worked so hard to rid myself of this person and them trying to come back just feels like all the things I worked so hard on are going to unravel. Even though I know they aren't, it feels like a setback. And that was like, the icing on the cake to this already terrible day, I guess."

      You let out a breathy laugh and smiled gently, shaking your head slowly.

     "I normally wouldn't be telling this to a customer. But here we are. Again, I'm sorry... I feel like I shouldn't have said anything? Should I... have said anything?"

In the brief silence that followed your question,  both you and Steve were thinking the same thing - were you going to regret this? Intimacy both physically and emotionally was good when you capped it at what you both knew to be appropriate. When it came to the physical aspects, you each let your fantasies unwind.

    And on the emotional aspect, though you had both grown closer and more open, some things just didn't get touched upon. But now you had just cried over the screen, and spoke from the depths of your heart. It was scary to open up in such an uncertain situation where your own privacy was an aspect that got involved. There was no doubt that it was too much. It was just a question of whether the result would be negative.

     Steve sighed deeply, a crease forming in his forehead as he furrowed his brows together, folding his arms over his chest.

     "I don't know..." he trailed off, took a breath, a leap, his body practically lurching forward. "But... it can't be a bad thing that you feel comfortable talking to me about this, can it?"

      And there it was, that glint of hope he was trying his hardest to conceal. That feeling he got when he got off that call with you, the one where you both started giving into those unspoken thoughts. That this couldn't be so bad, that you could enjoy each other's company without worrying.  

     You smiled gently,

    "I guess. It does feel weird though, it's not something I normally do. It feels like something I shouldn't be doing."

    You could hear Steve breathing in deeply, and for a moment, you imagined what he might look like, envisioning the outline of a troubled face, eyebrows knit together. You snapped back to reality and made a face, confused by your abrupt thoughts. You had long gotten over the very brief desire to see Steve's face- why was it coming back again?

    "I'll be honest, same here," Steve agreed with your sentiments.

    "Do you always feel like you have to restrain what you say when you talk to people? Or is it just with me?" you added that last part in a quiet voice, biting your lip.

Steve chuckled briefly,

      "Are you asking me if I have trust issues? Because I'd tell you, but I'd have to trust you to do that."

You shook your head and laughed at Steve's stupid joke, and shrugged.

     "I could say the same thing, I think. This person I heard from earlier is... I developed those trust issues because of them. Or, my already existent trust issues became worse. But what's funny about it is that this person was once someone that I loved," even as the words were coming out you questioned why you were letting them, why you were allowing yourself to be so truthful in a situation like this at a time when you were so vulnerable.

      Steve didn't reply, again feeling that sick feeling in his stomach that stemmed from his fear. The fear that this conversation were too serious, fear surrounding the fact that he was able to relate so much to such a personal situation of yours.

    You spoke again, daring to ask the question that felt like a final blow to Steve's stomach,

    "Have you ever been in love, Steve?"

Now Steve knew he was in uncharted territory. Not because he feared you might try to exploit him, but because he was so struck by the fact that he had allowed himself to feel so safe with you and get so close to you. He was surprised at himself for letting you feel safe enough to have these kinds of conversations with him. It all felt like a mistake now. He wanted a way out, any way out. He knew if he even attempted to answer that question, he would be making a big mistake. He had shared some of his most intimate moments with you, but always keeping in mind a very sharp line he didn't want to be crossed.

And in his mind, he thought of the one love he'd had, the one love that hadn't been fulfilled because of the situation he had been thrown into, one he had never signed up for. He thought of how the things he cared most for in life had been discarded, how, like you, he felt like it had gone to shit. How sometimes, though he tried his best to be grateful and had taken that journey of self-healing just like you, it all felt like some sick joke.

Could he even call it love? He wasn't sure. And he wasn't going to answer. He wasn't going to answer at all, because he wouldn't be talking to you again. There would be no chance for this dilemma to resurface, not with you, not on this site. He made the decision with haste and a heavy heart - he was done here.

      The discomfort was well evident in his voice, answering loud and clear, though his voice was morose and a bit closed off. You sensed the shift immediately.

     "I... I can't talk about that right now. Listen, I have to go."

    You felt a pang in your chest at the sudden switch in his demeanor, straightening up and trying not to frown. All this time you had been letting the words spill out, telling yourself not to worry so much, reassuring yourself it was okay to make your feelings known. Now it felt like you should've never said anything at all. You started to stammer.

      "Oh, I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry, I was just... I feel like I got a little overwhelmed." You laughed nervously. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Steve felt his throat ran dry as he blinked, feeling emotions come up to surface that he wasn't quite familiar with. Maybe he was grieving in advance, regretting the decision he was making to no longer speak with you, regretting the fact that he was letting fear get in the way of what he wanted so badly to be a good thing.

    "No, I'm sorry. I feel like I let things go too far," Steve apologized, but the apology felt more like an insult.

Was he implying that whatever this was, you couldn't handle it, and that it was his fault for somehow leading you on? You had both made the connection with each other, it was an equal effort. And why was he acting like the two of you communicating at all was somehow below him, somehow a risk? If anything, you were the one risking it just by talking to him the way you did. You were opening up to him. 

     You almost felt betrayed - you had convinced yourself that he wouldn't want to listen to your problems and you told yourself it wasn't his responsibility to listen. And then he listened anyway, told you that he wanted to hear it, and you cried to him. You felt like you had made so many unusual accommodations just for him to scare off like this. He was just another person you had expressed your feelings to, only to regret it in the end.

    "Too far?" you questioned, furrowing your brows.

Steve swallowed. In your voice he could hear a hint of frustration, but even worse- hurt. It pained him more than he cared for you to know.

    "I don't think we should talk anymore," he said instead.

    "What?" you were taken by surprise. "Steve, I'm... I'm not understanding. I... I don't usually open up to people like this, I mean, I thought maybe it was fine here, because I feel like I know you. But you're still a stranger. I understand you're a customer but I thought we were talking, I thought we broke through that wall-"

    "We did. And we shouldn't have," Steve said, his voice so calm and firm that it was almost cold.

    By now you were just staring into the computer camera, as if you were looking at him and waiting for him to come to his senses. But as you did that, you slowly came to your own. Because you weren't looking at him. You were looking at a black screen with his voice behind it. You realized you hadn't known Steve, not enough to talk about these things. And just like him, you too were full of regret. You kept all those walls up for the sake of customer relations, only to put them down and be met with this disastrous result.

    Steve almost couldn't bare to look at your face anymore. You were confused, hurt. He could tell you regretted the fact that you had opened up. He was hurt too, but he wouldn't show it, or let it overcome him to the point where your methods of communication with each other became something neither of you could control. Still, yes, he was hurt.

    But he had been through plenty of hardships in life. What was one more, even if it shouldn't have come to this point anyway?

    "I'm sorry, Moonrose. We can't. Goodbye."

Chat over.

[troop-scoop]

Mistakes & Regrets I

Summary: When a trip to your Dad’s hometown of Hawkins goes wrong, you end up in the year 1983, and have to learn how to cope with being stuck in the past.

Pairing: Steve Harrington / Future!Reader (Slow Burn)

A/n: This is my first stranger things fic, I’ve done other fandoms, and i’ve been itching to get this idea out, let me know if you liked the first part, and if you want to be tagged! (Pls be nice, i’m shy lol) (Also, I had this on a side blog, that I decided to bring to my main blog)

•••

The 1980’s were weird, that was your final opinion. Mainly because it was so much like home, they had phones, they dressed almost like you were used to, they had music you’d grown up on, like The Clash and Elton John, but a lot of the songs that were decades older than you, were new to them.

And while you knew every lyric to ‘The Safety Dance’ and ‘Come on Eileen’ everyone around you was still trying to learn them, and would jumble them from time to time. But at the young age of two, you were dancing along to The Clash while your dad laughed and danced with you.

Knowing that some songs you loved wouldn’t come out for up to twenty years later made you upset, not being able to listen to Nirvana. Suddenly you wanted to be in the car, listening to your dad try to sing along to Ed Sheeran or Taylor Swift. It was always amusing seeing his reaction to the newest songs on the radio while he drove you to school.

There was another thing about this time period that you found weird. They actually had lockers. All of the lockers from your school had been taken out in the late 90’s when a kid hid a gun and drugs in his, so no one had lockers except for in the locker room. So having to remember two different combos was a pain in your ass.

“L/n!”

A heavy sigh escaped your nose as your lips went thin in fake annoyance even though he hadn’t fully approached you.

“What do you want, Harrington?” You questioned, turning from the open grey locker to see him just a few feet away.

He gave you a look of fake offense as he leaned against the locker next to yours a hand over his on his chest, sadly were the latch of your own was, so you couldn’t use the door as a shield,

“Hey, now, who said I wanted anything? I just wanna talk to my friend.”

You were kind of friends. He was nice, at least to you. Though you’d seen him be a douchebag to other students. The cliche you’d seen in a movie of highschool. The popular guy who only cared about popularity and the people he was around. And you didn’t know why he thought you were a good person to be around, because when you were six you accidently set your curtains on fire while the babysitter fell asleep. And you were pretty sure you gave off ‘crazy bitch’ vibes.

You turned back to the locker and shook your head, grabbing your English textbook and looking back to him, a hand holding onto the door while you leaned into it. “Okay, why do you want to talk to me?” You questioned with a fake smile.

“Alright, grumpy. Tommy H, Carol, and I wanna hang out at yours tonight. My parents don’t leave for three more days, and  Carol’s mom hates Tommy, and you know how Tommy’s dad is.” He explained, looking down at you.

You hummed in amusement. “Not happening.” You responded, grabbing the hood of his hoodie and placing it in his locker, closing the door in on it. “Have fun.”

“Y/n!” He exclaimed in a sudden panic at being stuck in your locker, not being able to pull himself loose. “This isn’t funny, I will tell Mrs. Click!” He threatened as you stepped back, a genuine grin on your face as you looked up at him.

“A tattle tale? Didn’t think you’d stoop that low, and also, Mrs. Click? You think I’m scared of my History teacher? She’s afraid of saying ‘Wench’ out loud while we reading historical texts. She’s not intimating.”

Steve nodded a bit in thought. “Yeah… Okay, maybe I didn’t think that through, I’ll go to principal-”

“If I get suspended, I get suspended.” You shrugged. “Find a way to get me something to listen to music on, and something that has music on it, and then I’ll let you go.”

“Are you… Are you bribing me? Y/n L/n is bribing me? The new girl is bribing me.” He said in awe, still grasping onto his hoodie, looking at you with his mouth agape and his eyebrows raised.

When you only tilted your head he groaned, pulling on the cotton material. “Fine, Walkman or Record Player?”

“Hmm… Walkman.” You replied.

“Queen or Blondie?” He questioned, a smile coming across your face as you reached up to the lock.

“Both.”

Steve rolled his eyes as you unlocked your locker, setting him free. “That wasn’t fair, you look innocent.” He grumbled.

You mimicked his eye roll, closing the locker and walking away through the hall. ‘Fair’ being repeated in your head. Nothing was fair anymore to you. You’d been normal, just an annoying kid who was obsessed with Grey’s Anatomy, and history. That was what you had to your name. Your friends had once watched the bad uneducational tv show with you just to try and understand your obsession, you dad even had given it a chance, only saying that most of the characters were annoying.

But you only had history now. And some of the things you were supposed to learn in AP European history haven’t even happened yet. And it was freaking you out.

What was freaking you out more? Knowing you had a ‘classmate’ in your History class, who sat next to you, and was your relative. Your dad’s brother.

Sitting next to him was strange. Because he was your uncle. He’d been the one who bought you your first bike, and watched you fall off and break your wrist after your dad had let go of the bike.

To say that being his partner on a history project was weird, was an understatement. Because the entire time you felt like hitting your head against the desk, because he didn’t really change.

“What’s so important about a quote?”

“Are you serious?”

“As serious as the Titanic.” You responded, brows furrowed.

He stayed quiet for a moment. “I don’t know.” He admitted, receiving a chuckle from you as you watched him flip through the book. “I don’t even understand this project.”

“Come on, we have to choose a quote from a historical piece of fiction, We were assigned Romeo and Juliet.” You said grabbing your book and flipping to a certain page. “Romeo, oh Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?” You teased, knowing that the page you were on didn’t have that in there.

The boy was technically older than you, but right now, you were the same age, and he was shaking his head with a smile. “It’s like she wanted him to be stalking her.” He responded.

“What?”

“She’s asking where he is.” He shrugged. “It’s weird, cause he still doesn’t come out when she asks that.”

“That’s not what she means. It’s early modern English. Phrases were different. She’s asking why he has to be Romeo. In modern words it’d be ‘Romeo, oh Romeo, why does it have to be Romeo.’ She’s upset because the guy she likes is in the enemy’s family.”

The boy looked at you, eyes scanning your face for a moment, looking for any hint of you joking, but he didn’t he finally spoke. “You could teach this class better than her.” He said in a hushed voice to make it so Mrs. Click didn’t hear.

“No-”

“L/n!” The two of you snapped your attention to the older woman who was scowling. “Back to work!”

You rolled your eyes and looked back to him as the bell rang. “That’s our cue.”

The 80’s were weird, and you didn’t like them. What with being so similar to home. With your uncle in the same history class as you, and being close to your dad, but older than him and not seeing him as your dad. And knowing people around you who were almost Baby Boomers, and in your time, would reprimand you for the jokes you made and your views of the world.

Being 16 in your time had been easier, able to cheat off websites for homework, and texting, which seemed to have been taken for granted by you.

Here, you couldn’t say you didn’t have a mom, but rather two dads. Because it was the 80’s and you knew the comments you’d get. You also couldn’t say your full name. That the dad you were genetically related to was the one who gave you the second last name that your uncle had and everyone would question it, and it pained you not being able to go by it, because he’d taught you more things than anyone else ever had. He’d taught you how to ride a book, and said that he’d be disappointed if you ever got ditching class, and that if you were going to do it, not to get caught for his sanity.

You would regret ever coming to this town with him, and you would regret the choice to ever run out of Enzo’s after your other dad yelled at you for being drenched from the rain after you ran in, finding that it was a formal restaurant and not a casual one. You’d regret going into the woods and getting lost, because all you wanted, was to be held by your dad and have him tell you it was going to be okay, You wanted to hear him walking down the hall late at night when he couldn’t sleep and you were hiding under your blankets with your phone, tying not to get caught for being up late.

But you had the fear that you’d never see your dad, as your dad. That you’d have to continue growing up in a time that has been written in history books. That you’d have to watch as technology progressed, and that you’d be conscious and aware for the year you were born.

You were still a kid, even if you didn’t look like it. Just six year ago, you’d been in elementary school, and you still got nightmares and went to your dads’ room because you were still scared of sleeping alone. You hadn’t been since, until now. You could barely sleep at night in the unfamiliar room of the motel you were living in, without your parent’s room down the hall.

But you were trying. And you wanted to redo everything, if you could build a time machine, you would. But that hadn’t even been available in your time, let alone 83’.

[waywardnerd67]

The Queen’s Court - Chap 16 Same Difference

Summary: Dean calls on (Y/N) after a disagreement with Castiel. When she is unable to take care of him, she figures out a way for someone else too. Characters: Dean Winchester, Cassie (OFC), Reader Pairing: Dean x Reader / Dean x Cassie (OFC) Warnings: Fluff/Smut/Age Difference (OFC is 20/Dean is 34) Word Count: 2554 Squared Filled: Age Difference A/N #1: This is for @spnkinkbingo​ card A/N #2: As always this is unbeta so all mistakes are mine. Likes, comments and reblogs are splendid and I will love you doubly for them! Enjoy!

Check Out: The Queen’s Court Masterlist

“(Y/N), I’m ready to move up to my own room.” The petite brunette stood her ground which (Y/N) admired about her.

“I’ll make you deal Cassie, if you let me pick your clientele for the first year then I will arrange for you to have the vacant room on floor seven next to Morgan.” she offered hearing her phone buzz on her nightstand.

Cassie’s bright blue eyes widen, “Really?”

(Y/N) nodded hearing her phone go off for the second time, “Really. I will be monitoring you closely as well as Morgan. Deal?”

“Deal! Thank you (Y/N).” Cassie threw her arms around (Y/N)’s neck hugging her tightly making her chuckle.

“You’re welcome, now take this card and get whatever materials you need for your room. Your budget is five thousand to get furniture and whatever else you want. I will let you know within the week when I have a client picked out for you.” (Y/N) handed her the business credit card when there was a loud knock on her door.

Dean walked in his jaw clenched and brows furrowed looking up to see (Y/N) and Cassie, “Oh… sorry pretty girl. I’ll just wait in your room.”

She watched as Cassie’s eyes never left Dean, “Is he available for being a client?”

(Y/N) laughed walking Cassie towards the door, “Sorry, he’s a special client of mine. Enjoy your shopping spree and check in with Morgan before going out.”

As she shut the door, Dean came walking back out. Before she could say anything his lips were smashed against her while his hands were making fast work of her jeans. Gently, she pushed him away just enough to speak.

“D-Dean, what’s going on?” she asked as his lips traveled down her neck.

His hands slipped beneath her ass scooping her up and wrapping her legs around him, “My friend is being an idiot, we fought and I need to get some of this energy out of my system. No better way of doing that then making you come over and over again.”

Her tights squeezed against his waist making him chuckle, “Dean… I can’t.”

He stopped in the middle of her bedroom putting her feet on the ground. The rejection in his green eyes broke her heart, “What? Do you have another client coming in?”

“No, of course not. I told you I would stop seeing my other clients.” she said as he sat on her bed her eyes traveling to the hard outline of his cock.

“Then what?” He asked, running his hands over his thighs.

(Y/N) said next to him taking his hand into hers, “I’m sorry pretty boy, I want nothing more than for you to fuck my brains out…”

“But?” he looked up at her.

“But, I’m on my period and not into that kind of sex.” As the words came from her mouth, Dean’s shoulders visibly relaxed.

He placed his arm around her shoulders then pressed his lips to her temple, “No problem. I’m sorry I just rushed in here.”

(Y/N) crawled up to the head of her bed and patted the spot next to her, “How about you tell me what has got you frustrated and we’ll see if a little mouth exercises would help your situation.”

Dean stood up shrugging out of his jacket then sitting next to her on the bed. (Y/N) listened to him detail the fight with Castiel that led him to coming to The Queen’s Court. As she listened, she noticed the subtle changes in his tone from frustration to worry.

“Boil it down, you’re just concerned for Cas and want him to stay safe.” (Y/N) said running her fingers along his thigh.

He threw his hands up, “Exactly! Finally someone understands.”

“You love him.” she stated as Dean’s gaze snapped to hers.

He shook his head, “I mean in a brother sort of way…”

(Y/N) chuckled, taking a hold of his hand, “Cut the crap, Dean. Of all people in this world, you can be open and honest with me. No judgements. No opinions. Nothing but an ear to listen to you and support. If you’re attracted to Cas then so be it. Doesn’t mean you have to act on it. Doesn’t mean you’re any less of the handsome, strong man you are. You wouldn’t be the first man to admit to having feelings for a man they are close to.”

Dean leaned back against her headboard sighing, “Cas says we have a profound bond. I don’t know what that means but I do know I’ve changed since he’s been in my life. I would do anything for him just like I would for Sam and for you. If that means I love him then sure.”

“Can I ask you a blunt question?” (Y/N) squeezed his hand as he nodded, “Given the chance, no questions asked, no repercussions, would you sleep with Cas?”

There was a long moment of silence before he spoke, “I don’t know. I’ve never allowed myself to explore those thoughts. I think I would be more comfortable exploring those feelings with a chick that looked like him.”

As he chuckled an idea popped into (Y/N)’s head, “Wait here pretty boy, I’ll be right back.”

She got up going into her office shutting the bedroom door behind her. Quickly sending a text from her phone it was a few minutes later Cassie was walking back through her door. After explaining what her idea was, Cassie excitedly agreed to help her.

(Y/N) walked back in to find Dean stretched out on her bed. His head resting on his folded arms and his eyes closed. She crawled onto the bed leaning over to kiss him. A soft moan rumbled in his chest as his fingers went up into her hair. Kissing down his neck, her hand slowly stroked his denim covered cock.

“Sweetheart, as much as I would love your mouth on my cock, I think I would rather wait to bury myself deep inside of you.” Dean said gently moving her hand to his chest.

Though turned on and surprised she continued with her plan, “What if I had an idea for you to work through some of your Cas feelings while working off some of your frustrations.”

He looked at her curiously just a knock came from her door, “Trust me, please.” she said getting up to answer it.

Cassie was dressed in a modest pleated skirt falling to her knees, a white button down shirt with a striped blue tie that (Y/N) happened to have a Castiel’s and a tan trench coat (Y/N) happened to have been ordered a few months early. Her long, chocolate hair was braided over one shoulder and her blue eyes shined against her fair skin. If Castiel were to have a twin angel sister then Cassie would be it.

“Dean, I would like for you to meet Cassie.” (Y/N) stepped aside giving him a full view of her.

His eyes widened while his full lips parted, “H-Hi…”

“Hello Dean.” Dean let out a small gasp getting off the bed.

(Y/N) could tell her was about to bolt, “Dean, Cassie is being promoted to one of the rooms to take clients full time in person. She has only been taking phone clients for two years and I would be grateful if you could be her first client tonight so I can show her the ropes per se. It would be a one time thing and a huge help to me.”

His eyes narrowed in on her before sighing walking over to them, “Not a word to anyone.” he whispered to her.

“Promise on my heart. Are you okay with me watching?” she asked, seeing a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“I would have it no other way pretty girl.” He turned towards Cassie, “Cassie?”

She nodded, “Yeah. Honestly, I prefer Cas unrelated to whatever this is, but whatever makes you more comfortable.”

Dean nodded stepping in front of her. His broad, muscular body made Cassie seem even smaller in size. (Y/N) wondered if that was how she looked standing in front of him. She watched the way he spoke to her softly and with a warmth that he buried deep inside of him. It was the way he talked to people he was showing care to. Watching Cassie nearly melt into his embrace almost made (Y/N) chuckle.

“Charmer.” she whispered to herself watching them walk towards her bed.

The back of Cassie’s thighs were against the edge of the bed as Dean leaned down to kiss her. Just before his lips met hers, his eyes connected with (Y/N)’s asking silent permission. She nodded giving him a reassuring smile then his lips pressed against Cassie’s.

(Y/N) watched as Dean took his time removing each layer of clothing while leaving no patch of skin untouched by his lips. (Y/N) felt her knees getting weak as the memories of being on the receiving end of his slow torture and she sat on her oversized chair. As Cassie pushed herself towards the head of the bed, Dean began stripping his own layers of flannel and denim off.

The moment his hard cock was free from his boxers, (Y/N) could not help the low groan escaping her lips. As if he had heard her, Dean looked up gripping his length and slowly stroking himself while making eye contact with her. In a weird way, she felt as if he were letting her know that he was hers and he was only doing this because she asked.

Dean began kissing down her body and soon soft moans were filling her room. (Y/N) admirer how attentive Dean was to Cassie’s wants as he found she loved her nipples being sucked on. Soon his head was nestled between her legs as she cried out from the first swipe of his tongue over her sensitive mound. Her fingers racked through his thick hair as his mouth worked over her. Cassie’s back was arched, her body shaking as he brought her first orgasm washing over her body.

“Oh god Dean! Right there… yes, yes, Dean!” her body relaxed as he kissed his way back up to her.

Rolling them so she was on top, Cassie quickly made her way down to his cock. Her mouth covered his swollen heard as he grunted, “Fuck.”

As Cassie’s head began to bop up and down, the tightness in (Y/N)’s belly was getting to her. She watched as Dean’s hand gently guided Cassie over his cock with his eyes meeting (Y/N)’s. She found herself unbuttoning her shirt just enough for her hand to slip over her breast.

“Yes, just like that. Fuck.” Dean moaned, never looking away from (Y/N).

She knew it was more for her than for Cassie and that could be their little secret. (Y/N) massaged and pinched her nipples just like he would if they were in bed together. Instinctively, her other hand slipped between her legs rubbing lazy circles against her covered pussy.

Dean swiftly pulled Cassie up to him rolling back over her, angling himself and pushing deep inside of her. (Y/N)’s lips parted seeing this magical moment from a far. The control Dean exerted from just not pounding into her. Every muscle rippling down his back, his arms and legs. The sheer strength that flowed through him was awe-inspiring.

Her own hands stilled against her body mesmerized by Dean in the moment. She could tell Cassie was close to her release as her moans echoed throughout the bedroom. Dean had been silent except for a few grunts. His body was more rigid as he thrusted into her.

“Shit Cas, you feel so good. I-I’m almost there… come with me, Cas.” Dean bent down pounding into her hard as she wrapped her limbs around him.

“Oh… Dean, I’m coming! Fuck!” Cassie cried out her body shaking beneath his.

That is when (Y/N) watched the most beautiful moment. Dean’s body tensed briefly with every muscle seizing and then she watched him let go. Pumping into her as his body trembled from the pleasure coursing through his body. He pushed inside her once more holding himself deep within her as she clung to him. He was letting her ride out her own release squeezing that glorious cock for every drop of pleasure.

She watched as Dean kissed Cassie as he pulled out of her swallowing the groan escaping her lips. Rolling onto his back, he pulled her close whispering something in her ear. Cassie nodded, kissing his cheek and getting out of bed unsteadily.

She walked up to (Y/N) clenching the trench coat around her naked body, “No client will ever be as good as him.”

(Y/N) shook her head knowing Cassie was not asking for an answer. She kissed Cassie’s cheek as she left the room and looked back to Dean. He was slipping underneath her sheet and patted the bed next to him. She gladly joined him even though her body was aching for a release of her own. It was worth it though seeing a new side of Dean.

“Please tell me she was over eighteen.” he whispered as his lips pressed against her ear.

She smacked him softly on the chest, “Of course she was, Dean Winchester! The only employees I have under eighteen work a teen help line for kids who are having mental health issues. The only reason why they work here is to keep them safely off the streets.”

“You are an amazing woman, (Y/N). But seriously, how old was she?” she could hear the nervousness in his voice.

(Y/N) glanced up at him from her resting spot on his chest, “She just turned twenty a week ago.”

Dean groaned running his hand through his hair, “Fuck… no wonder she could come instantly. She could have kept going all night long.”

(Y/N) started laughing, “What? Wouldn’t have been able to keep up with her old man?”

He scoffed, “I bet I could have but then what kind of state would have that left you in. Pretty girl, I bet you’re aching for some relief.”

“I’m fine.” she said averting her gaze back to his chest. She hated how he could read her body so clearly.

“No you’re not. Your body is tense from being worked up. I know it’s that time of the month but is there any way I could help you?” He was genuinely concerned about her which melted her heart.

(Y/N) lifted herself up straddling his thick, muscular thigh, “What if you get worked up again?” she asked, grinding herself against him.

Dean rolled her onto her back settling between her legs. He was not hard but could feel he was well on his way to getting there. Rolling his hips against her, (Y/N) groaned allowing her head to press against the pillow.

“Oh, I think this will be a mutual release that we both are in need of.” He snapped his hips against her making her cry out before taking her down a path of pleasure of the next hour.

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[ziracona]

Sorry if this has been asked before but, I'm really curious about how you would have written Max in the story if he were to be there? He's one of my personal favorite characters and finding redemption stories about him is kinda hard (You have no idea how happy I was when I read Claudette threw him a scarf to stay warm, like yes please; he's a feral child in a killer's body, but please stay warm)

I don’t think I have been, and no problem!

If Max had had a larger role in ILM, I am not 100% sure how I’d have written his perosnality, since I haven’t had to do it yet in-depth, but I know he’d be very angry and both defensive and aggressive towards everything, warry, skittish, hostile. Not bad necessarily, but humans will raise hackles and be ready to lash out and bite if they’ve all they’ve ever known is abuse the same way a mistreated cat or dog would, or like, most any living thing. I think he’s very lonely and unloved, and it’s hard for humans to survive without positive contact and affirmation and physical affection. I mean, if we’re left alone totally, we literally just die. But since his only experience with humans—and his parents/the people who should have loved him most no less—was nothing but danger and abuse and isolation and imprisonment, I think it’d be very hard for him to be approached. Not at all impossible, but man, it is really, really hard to convince someone who’s been through torrential rains of abuse that there’s something else to be given.

I do have ideas on how you could get through, but let me think about personality first. Well, aside from aggressive, defensive, skittish, warry, and hostile, like inborn traits to go along with learned, I think he is a very volatile person. He must be enduring and strong to survive what he did and live, and so determined and tenacious. —Oh! Hang on, big one before I forget. So, I am not a forefront authority in Disability as it relates to narrative, but I know quite a bit and was lucky enough to have a professor whose central areas were Disability, Horror, and Disability in Horror. I don’t know who exactly popularized the idea of Max as having basically a child’s mind in an adult’s killer body, though I think I’ve been told it was one person or story? Maybe it was just a big fandom take. But that’s one of the most prevailing and harmful disability stereotypes, especially for mental disabilities, and horror is a massive offender in general with both disabilities and disorders, and we need to do better & listen to the communities themselves more. I don’t mean this in a harsh way at all—I don’t even know if you meant ‘feral child in a killer’s body’ that way, or meant like, ‘this feral man in a killer’s body is my child TuT’—which is a totally different statement—and even with the former, I know people have had that idea of Max super popularized and are inundated with it, and most people I think just don’t know it’s a very harmful and prevalent stereotype period—I didn’t until I was in my 20s. But I think it’s important to bring attention to it when it’s brought up. Many of the bad things done to people with disabilities come from treating them as not fully actualized humans (I guess I should say ‘us’), and some of those ways are easy to spot, because they’re cruel, and some are harder, because they seem positive. The ‘child mind in an adult body’ is a huge one for disabilities that doesn’t seem awful at first glance, but actually is a huge problem. Unfortunately, human children also get treated by and large as not fully realized humans (as in autonomous & worthy of respect and self-determination—obvs there are some differences that are important, but a child is still an entire ass human & should be respected as such). The painting a physically and mentally disabled character as childlike or mentally trapped as a child is used to control and take autonomy and gravity from our opinions and lives. It’s also just like, not accurate. But the biggest thing is that it takes agency from individuals and paints them as less intelligent, less capable of wanting or pursing more ‘adult’ things [such as jobs or sex or protesting for their rights or having informed opinions on current events and doing something about it], and tries to paint that permanent, life-long dehumanization as a positive thing by making it cute or innofenssive at first glance. While still discounting disabled as kids, passing off autonomy and decisions to their caregivers, and ignoring our status as equal and actualized individuals. Stunted learning or growth or different ways of speaking, moving, and limitations understanding certain things don’t actually make disabled people like children. They’re just adults who sometimes have some very different ways of speaking or thinking or seeming or being. But it’s super important that we’re still adults and like, have the actualized self of adults, even if our speech patterns seem weird. There’s a huge and extremely important difference between an adult with social hangups around sensitive areas and social norms, and being a child. If you didn’t know any of that, don’t feel too bad, again like, people who aren’t disabled almost never talk about disability theory or issues, and I didn’t know this till I was in my 20s. But I feel really bad for Max and bad about how he is usually characterized, so it is important to bring this up.

Okay! That all said, I think personality wise, Max would be really fun to write. Because you have two levels—you have the taught things—fear, aggression, etc, and his inborn perosnality. There is very little canon about Max, but we know he never left home after freeing himself, he steals clothes from scarecrows or whatever he can find, and he’s probably in his early 20s or maybe to his mid 20s now. Since he never left home, I’d think he’s probably a little more cautious and anctious by nature, even with all that rage. I think he’d be sentimental if he ever was given something to love. He must have attachment to things pretty easily, and would I think have liked people a lot because of that, if life had been different. Would have been a shy but friendly and hopeful farm boy. Now, he’s kind of a broken mess, sadly. He’s had it super pounded in by family he is worthless and horrific and disgusting and a monster and an abomination, so I think he expects all humans to take one look and violently feel the same towards him. Taught humans are cruel, and he isn’t safe with them, and the only thing that will stop them and protect himself is unchecked aggression.

So, when it comes to like, getting close enough to him to redeem him, it’s rough, because again, he’d be very very aggressive. I mean, even after killing his parents, he mutilated the animals on the farm in rage, and continued to viciously hurt and then kill anything living he could find on the farm, so he’s got a lot of danger, and he really leaned into violence to protect himself. It’s what he knows now. I think he’s still lonely — like, so lonely he’s sick with it — but unlike Anna and Michael, he’s never known love, so I don’t think he’s even aware of that, and it’s on a pretty subconscious level. Plus, he has even less understanding of human communication and rules and gestures than the other feral killers, so it’d be really hard to get through to him. I think about the only plausible way is really, really, really fuckin slowly, through repeated gifts and kindnesses for no reason (like Claude with the scarf but every day for three years)—the same way you’d try to get through to a feral cat, since like other living things, humans also are wary and mistrustful when hurt, but can be socialized into new situations and do have a pretty set list of gifts and actions we appreciate. I mean, if I was feral, I would start to soften if repeatedly left chocolates and big warm coats and picture books to look at, pretty rocks. I have a crow heart.... >.> Or, the much more likely option, you’d have to catch him or find him captured and helpless, and then be kind instead of doing anything bad at all, and help him for a somewhat extended period of time, nurse him back to health or such, so he’d be forced to actually realize this person isn’t trying to hurt him—they’re trying to help.

I think Max would get less hostile slowly and cautiously because like, if you’ve ever been horribly abused you know you’re afraid to be hurt again. But also, if you’re alone, there’s a battle between wanting some kind of constact and love, and the fear of trying to trust someone only to be brutally torn up again and cast aside. It’s a painful place to be. But I think once he made it over that initial trust hurdle, and could bring himself to stop shuddering at a touch and to believe the person helping him was just trying to give him food, not poison or something to choke on, he’d be absolutely overcome, becuase if you’ve never been shown kindness and then are, overwhelmingly, it’s really hard to process. There’s a lot of psychology stuff about how we form our understandings and processing of each other and the world that I’m not gonna go into much bc convoluted, but it’d be like the opposite weirdly of a Just World break. The realization some things are less awful than your cemented life understanding structure. It would feel wrong and be hard to process (and rewireing a brain takes some time), but he’s been so alone for so long, I think the longing for people would get through, and he would cautiously start to trust and be just bowled over and kind of intimidated by the strength of like, the love and affection and gratitude and belonging he’d start to feel. I think he’d be afraid, becuase it’s not how life is meant to go, and jumpy, but he’d also just be lost to the happiness of actually having some kind of positive human connection, and become fiercely protective of whoever (or whichever people) was/were helping him. Got something he doesn’t want to lose now.

He’s young, so he’s going to still be figuring stuff out, and he had an awful upbringing, so lots of confusion and anger and un-learning too, but I’m really glad you liked that scene!! 😭 and that you like Max too, because he needs more love. I like him a lot too, that’s why he ends up with an undetermined fate instead of, like, dead in ILM. I’d like to give him a fully story role sometime, when there’s more space for it. He’s such a complex and unfortunate guy, he deserves a chance to grow more right and find people who are different and have a better future. TuT. It ain’t fair how his life was.

[lamiasluck]

All I Want for Christmas Is...

(This is based off my previous Illinois and Yancy thing. So read that for context!)

Summary: It's wintertime and coming close to the holidays. Yancy and everyone else in the prison have lots of plans for celebrations! Though Yancy finds himself all alone every time visitation day rolls on by. Illinois on the other hand... is just as lonely. Harsh winters meant there were little adventures to be had. More often then not he had to stay at home with nothing to do.

Maybe it's finally time for the two to reconnect again.

Characters: Illinois & Yancy

Words: 1772

Chapter 2 

Read on AO3!

-

It was that time of year again. Thick blankets of snow covered the outside as far as the eye could see. For Yancy, that meant that everyone was cooped up inside the prison with little to do. For Illinois, that meant he had to stay in his house with absolutely nothing to do.

The adventurer let out a heavy sigh as he lay in bed. Winter was by far his least favourite season. There were few places to adventure, and besides, staying outside in these conditions left him at high risk for hypothermia. So he stayed at his house by himself. Sure, occasionally he went to a bar to socialize, but that got boring quickly. He needed more, needed a thrill. He had no choice but to wait this out. Day by day, hour by excruciating hour.

Being alone in a cave was one thing. Being alone in a house was another thing entirely. He wasn’t feeling the holiday spirit, that was for sure.

A sudden weight placed on his chest made him open his eyes, where he met face to face with his cat. Ellie, a black cat with golden eyes, stared unblinking at her owner and waited.

While cute, Illinois knew exactly what Ellie wanted. Food. He stroked along her back and closed his eyes again. “Just five more minutes...”

“Mrrow!” roared Ellie. Her tail swished around with impatience. She firmly placed her paws on his chest and kneaded his shirt, hard.

Illinois jolted awake at the sensation. “Alright, alright I’m up!” he sighed as he stood up. Ellie was already dashing to the kitchen, meowing in victory. The snow meant she couldn’t go out either, which was a shame considering she loved the outdoors as much as he did. Perhaps she became antsy from that fact. Illinois knows he feels the same.

There was nothing planned for today, much to his frustration. He had no one to talk to either. Besides Ellie, of course, but he couldn’t get an exciting conversation out of her. He hasn’t had an adventure partner in a while now that he thinks of it.

His last partner was Yancy.

His brows furrowed as he thought about the convict. Oddly enough he began to miss his loud attitude. An attitude like that could liven up his place.

-

Yancy never minded the snow. Sure, he had to stay inside, but that was never too big of a problem. More often than not, he and the other prisoners found ways to entertain themselves. They sang festive carols, decorate the prison with little things the guards gave them, and tried their best to keep a jolly attitude. The holidays held a special place in their hearts, to say the least. Though Yancy didn’t have as much to look forward to compared to the others.

Around this time of year allowed another opportunity. Extended visitation periods. When Yancy sat by the tables at lunch, he heard everyone talk about who’s going to visit them. Family, significant others, friends… Everyone had someone to look forward to. All except him.

Sometimes there was envy blossoming in his heart whenever he heard them talk, but he’d never show it. A smile and a strong voice could do wonders for his act. No one suspected a thing. So whenever Yancy went back to his cell, all alone, he had the time to reflect on his situation. Maybe he should ask for a cellmate. Perhaps it was simply the company he was missing.

The last cellmate he had was Illinois.

Nothing surprised him more than the fact he actually grown to miss that bastard. Maybe it was his previously mentioned loneliness, maybe he got attached too quickly, but a part of him felt like he didn’t have anyone else to talk to. Not like how he and Illinois talked, at least. There was no inequality between them. The other prisoners respected him as a leader, but that meant there was always a sense of superiority between him and them. Illinois definitely didn’t respect him as a leader. That pissed him off at first, however later on it just felt like they were friends.

Christ, has he never had a friend before?

When Illinois gave him that flip phone all those months ago, he made sure to hide it well. Usually that meant hiding it under his pillowcase, rolling it in his sleeve instead of his cigarettes, and so forth. He hasn’t used it yet though, hasn’t come up with a reason to. This couldn’t be considered a good reason probably ---what was a good reason to call?--- but there was no harm in being self indulgent every once and awhile, right?

Illinois’ number was the only thing the phone had. Why Illinois gave him such an old phone was a mystery to him, but then again, he probably gave all his adventure partners a phone like this. Once the lights were off and the guards eased up on their patrol, he snuck out the phone and called. As the phone rang, he began to regret his decision more and more.

Damnit, he’s probably busy. Why the hell did I call? I should hang up-

“Hello?” Illinois’ voice was staticky in the phone’s speakers, breaking him out of his thoughts. Yancy felt his stomach drop upon hearing it.

Too late to back out now. Yancy cleared his throat, keeping his voice low in order to not be found out. “Uh... hey freebird. How’s it goin’?”

“Yancy?” Illinois sat up from his position on the couch. He turned off whatever program he was barely paying attention to, fully focused on Yancy’s sudden call. “I didn’t think you’d call.”

“Yeah, well...” Yancy pressed his lips together in a tight line. “I just wanted to check up on youse.” He bit his tongue as soon as he said that. No, that sounds weird. I don’t give a shit about him. “I didn’t know if your dumbass died or somethin’.” Saved it.

Illinois laughed through the poor speakers. “I could say the same to you, jailbird. I’m surprised someone hasn’t put you in your place yet.”

“You’s the only one that came close, and we both know how that went.”

“Yeah, I kicked your ass.”

“As if!” Yancy quickly covered his mouth, staring wide eyed at the cell bars. Once the coast was clear, he spoke again in a more hushed tone. “Youse lucky I didn’t kill ya.”

More laughter. “You believe whatever you want… but in all seriousness, is there any reason you called? Sorry to burst your bubble, Yancy, but now’s not a good time for adventuring.”

“Oh, sorry." Damnit, I knew this was a bad idea. "Was I only supposed to call youse for adventurin’?”

“No, I just didn’t think you’d call for anything else.”

“I just wanted to talk to ya, freebird,” Yancy blurted out. He shut his mouth tight afterwards, but it was too late.

“Is that so?” The speaker could mask the genuine shock in Illinois’ voice. Though he pick pick up his charm easily. “Sounds like you fell in love with me~”

“Right, right ‘cause me callin’ youse means I wanna suck your dick. Youse shut your trap.” Yancy couldn’t roll his eyes harder even if he tried. However, there was a certain nostalgia within their bickering. “Nice to hear that youse didn’t change.”

“Nice to hear you in the holiday spirit.”

Yancy snorted. “Yeah, we’s got a whole thing goin’ on ‘ere,” he said, changing the subject. “What youse doin’ for Christmas, freebird? Got a big adventure where youse like, find Santa or somethin’?”

“Find Santa? What the hell, Yancy?” Illinois whispered to himself with a confused expression. “Well, no, I don’t have anything planned. I’m probably gonna stay at home-”

“By yourself?!” With furrowed brows, Yancy sat up in a mix of shock and confusion. He glanced at his cell door, but the guards finding him out was the last of his worries now.

Illinois always spent his holidays by himself, but why did he feel so bad about it now? Yancy’s tone sounded concerned. It made Illinois feel much more alone than he already did in his house. Nonetheless he continued to his mask his worries. “Well, yeah…? Who would I be with?”

Yancy rubbed the back of his neck as he frowned. “I dunno I thought youse would have some broad wit’ ya.”

“I haven’t had another partner after you left.”

He sputtered when he heard that. “Oh, now who sounds like they’s fell in love?!”

“It’s not like that, don’t get your hopes up,” Illinois laughed. “No one wants to adventure right now.” This time of year must be a real buzzkill for every adventurer because it certainly wasn’t his fault. How would pass up an opportunity to adventure with him, after all? “Maybe you can come over and spend Christmas with me. Promise I’ll make it worth your time~”

He considered it. He really, really considered escaping again. But it’d be too much trouble all for one guy. “I can’t, the others want to celebrate together. It’d be nice though.” He didn’t care about Illinois that much, it’s too risky. “Maybe youse could visit though.” Unless…

“That wouldn’t end well.” Like a burst bubble, Illinois tried to pop his idea immediately.

“Youse don’t know that.” However, he wasn’t having any of that. This was just as, if not more risky than escaping again, but it wasn't impossible. “Yeah… actually I could make it happen.” While in his train of thought, he heard footsteps approaching. “Oh, shit someone’s coming. I’ll talk to youse soon, Illinois.”

“What? Wait, Yancy what are you-” It was too late. Yancy hung up before he could get another word in.

He recently escaped from that place months ago. Returning there was the last thing he could ask for. What was he going to do anyways? Stroll in there like normal? As much as he believed his conscious was squeaky clean, on paper he was an ex-convict. Which he still thought was utter bullshit, however his ---very valid--- opinion didn’t matter in jail. Maybe Yancy could break him out again, but he really didn’t want to stay there again. That would be a lot of trouble for one guy.

Within the chaos of questions was a familiar feeling. A buzzing thrill of adventure. Possible adventure, sure, but it gave a thrill nonetheless. Yancy was a man of surprises, and Illinois was a man that loved mysteries. So put he the phone down and decided to pack it in for tonight, waiting eagerly for another call. For once the lonely silence didn’t phase him.

[miseryff]

19. Sit Down

Paris

My weekend spent in Houston,TX was nothing short of litty! Besides the no having sex due to my period, I spent a wonderful three days with Derrick. Now I was back in Long Island and I can not say that I missed the towns that much. It was minutes to noon on Sunday and the only thing on my mind was getting some sleep because I had to go back to work tomorrow. 

Damn, this adulting shit had no pause button.

“Where’s your lil boyfriend at, London Paris?” I rolled my eyes at my dad, and only sipped on my bottled water as we awaited Derrick’s arrival. My dad orchestrated the whole gathering with my mother. The plan was to have Derrick and I have a Sunday brunch so that they could get more acquainted with him. I honestly do not know why they want to be familiar with Derrick so badly. I mean its not like he would be coming around them that often anyways. I was still in the hot seat for flying to Houston against my parent’s wishes though, so I had to play nice and agree to this sit down.

“Chris, leave her alone.” That was my mom coming to my rescue, for once. I side eyed her just as the door bell rang. She must have got some dick last night because she’s been extra kind to me since I pulled up to the crib earlier this morning.  I motioned to get the door but my big ass, dinosaur ass pops was already sprinting down the hall. I fake chuckled before looking over at my mom. She was already staring at me, being all weird. “Ma, you gucci?”

“What do you mean, baby?”

“I mean you being fake nice for some reason. Dad dropped some dick off last--”

“Paris, stop. I am not one of your lil ho friends. Don’t talk to me like that.” I could not hold in my laughter as I looked into her guilty eyes. She was trying so hard to keep her face neutral but shawty was blushing OD. “Ewww, yall need to get back together already--”

“The man of the hour is here!” My sentence was cut short by my father’s extra boisterous voice. I looked over into the doorway and there stood Derrick, looking even more sexy than he did a couple hours ago when he dropped me off at home. He went to his aunt’s house to fake nap and freshen up, since he had about two hours before he needed to be back at my house. This man looked like an advertisement for raw sex and I wanted him. Damn, I wonder I could suck him--

“Paris, hello? You not gonn introduce ya man to my fine ass baby moms? Fine, I’ll do it myself. Lil rude ass.” I blinked a few times before leveling my eyes from the front of Derrick’s grey dress pants, and meeting my father’s eyes. I heard Derrick chuckle as he and my father walked more into the kitchen. “Clean ya mind, ma” Derrick mumbled as he brushed past me lightly.

I could hear Derrick and my mom getting acquainted, so I used this time to pull my dad to the side to set some shit straight. “Yo...”

“Who you yo-ing, lil girl? Run that shit back.” I made the stank face as I watched him undo the wrapper from a yellow Starburst. But I’m the lil girl? “What, Paris? Speak up.”

“Can you not embarrass me today in front of my nigga? You do that a lot and I’m not with it the shits. I don’t even wanna be here for this bullshit mixer brunch, so--”

“When do I ever embarrass you, Paris? You do that job perfectly well  by yourself’ like when you lied about entering a rehab program for the weekend, only to have ya smart ass daddy pop up on ya baecation.” He showed me the yellow Starburst in his mouth before pulling me into a hug when I turned to walk away. “Dadddd...”

“Hush up and hug me back. I ain’t gonn embarrass you, aight?. I can tell you like this kid and he aight so far, so ima be on my best behavior.” Those words placed a tiny smile on my lips so I wrapped him back tightly, snickering when he started whining. “Old ass nigga! I heard a couple bones crack.”

“Fuck outta here, bum!” He pushed me away from him a little too roughly and I caught my balance before punching him in the chest. “Yeaa, talk yo shit now gramps.” I went to punch his bird chest again but my mom saved his slow, tired ass.

“Can yall beasts stop playing in my kitchen? Lets sit and eat before the food gets cold. Waiting on Derrick’s turtle ass all morning and shit.” The loudest laugh left my lips and I walked over to Derrick who was wearing the ‘I ate ass’ face. “Ma, don’t shade my baby. Do you see how he looks? His fine ass had--”

“Yuck.” That was my hating ass pops. “Cmon man, lemme save you from this thirst bucket I call a daughter.” He rudely pushed me out the way and dropped his arm over Derrick’s shoulder as they walked out the kitchen. My jaw hit the floor  once I heard the two roar in laughter. It was then my mom’s laughing that forced me to tear my eyes from the two. “Ya dad has a  man crush Mondaaayy” she sang as she walked around my frozen body. 

“His gay ass!”

XX

Brunch went... well?

We actually ate and there was no shit that popped off. My dad was on his best behavior, as promised, minus the corny attempts to make Derrick laugh. I never thought I would agree with my mom’s opinion ever but she was right, Dad had a MCM... and it was my nigga.

“I fake wish Cae and Carter was here. I gave them money for the mall because I thought it would be a shit show.” I joked as I watched my mom gather up the plates from the table. I would get up and help her but that’s what my lazy ass pops was for. “Really? I was wondering why they was dressed and speeding out the door. They bout to spend off ya money in that mall.” My mom chucked lightly as she continued to stack the plates.

“Dad, go help mom bring the dishes to the kitchen and leave my nigga alone. He can not and will not hook you up on the Js dropping next week. Fuck outta here.”

“Paris, shut ya ass up. Now like I was saying--”

“Chris, I need help for real. Fuck dem shoes.” Derrick and I shared a laugh as we watched my mom staredown my pops. “Really, Alana? You think that glaring shit still work on me?”

No more words came from my moms mouth. The room would have been silent but Derrick and I were being goofy as shit and laughing like a bunch of school girls. Maybe another minute of my mom staring down my pops passed, before we heard his chair scrape against the wooden floors. “Simp ass nigga” I coughed loudly. “Damn, some shit was stuck in my throat.”

Can yall believe my grown ass pops sent me the middle finger? “And one for you too, Derrick. To think I had an ally in this bitch. That’s when they smile in my face...” He sand off key as he followed my mom out of the dining room. More laughter filled the living room and I had to wipe underneath my eye with my tank top because my dad was really a dickhead. Wow.

“Ya pops funny as shit.” Derrick chuckled some more, and then made a face when I pulled him out his seat by his arm. “Where we--”

“Shut up, and hurry up.” I whispered as I ushered him out of the dining room and down the hallway. I could hear my parents conversing in the kitchen and loud laughter as I started up the staircase. “Where we going, Paris?”

“To my room, Derrick. Now shut up.” The slap that was sent to my ass did nothing but make me more wet than I already was. Do yall know how hard it was to sit across from this sexy ass nigga and not be able to feel his dick down my throat? Shiiiidddd.

Once we entered my bedroom I turned the lock and pushed him up against the door. “I’m bout to suck fire out ya dick, just in case you was about to ask me what I’m doing.” I winked at him before dropping to my knees and working on his dress pants. His dick print was pressed up against his pants and I knew his dick wanted nothing more than to find refuge in my mouth.

He said nothing, only took a grip of my jet black hair and guided my head to his already hard dick. Opening my mouth slowly, I deep throat his shit in one try, and felt a feeling of accomplishment once I heard his low grunts. 

Oh yea, he’s mine.

Derrick

Paris is crazy.

I don’t remember the last time I did this high school shit; where a shawty snuck me up to her bedroom to get the work. Then again, she just left high school last year so it made sense. My bottom lip sunk into my mouth as I watched her get busy on my dick. I can’t lie, Paris gave the best head I have ever had in my life. Its like she was a pro at this shit and she was tryna suck the brown off my dick. I loved it.

“You like how my dick taste?” I spoke lowly as I tightened my grip on her straight black hair. Paris as a blondie was fire, no debate, But Paris with the jet black hair? Lets just say my dick was never on soft around her. She got it. “I love how your shit tastes. This my shit.” That was another thing I loved about Paris. The raw, NYC lingo. She spoke like a crip nigga but looked like a Hampton socialite. That was a fire ass mix.

Before I knew it both of my hands were are the back on her head and I was face fucking the shit out of her. And best believe mama kept up. No hands, on some Waka Flocka shit. “Yea, this yo shit.” Pulling her back by her hair, I watched as my dick slid out her mouth. “Open up,” a smile touched my lips as I watched her follow my every direction. It did something to me watching her welcome my spit into her mouth. After she licked her lips, she took my dick back into her mouth and finished me off. Pulling her up to stand, I pressed my lips to hers before switching places.

She was now laying with her chest against the door and I quickly pulled her black leggings down her legs. “Im still on my period, babe.”

“I know...” I mumbled as I searched for the condom in my wallet, As soon as I was wrapped up, I hiked her leg up and slid into her wetness with ease. “Fuckk,” we cursed at the same time. 

“You better fuck the shit out of me. And make me cum.”

Oh yea, she mine.

[jupiterjunebug]

WHERE'S THE WEREWOLF ESSAY, OP??

@malaloba @bisexualducknewton You also dared me to say this so you get a tag

Okay so fun facts about Tyler Keegan Casey (I literally just wanted to make a joke about Tyler Casey abbreviating to Tyler K.C):

His parents, Edgar Casey and Rebecca Wilson, got married at 18. Their reasoning was "hey, we've been together all of high school, we still like each other, and I think our kids would be really hot." A bit of the shine wore off for Rebecca, though, when it turned out Edgar inherited a controlling streak from his parents. He got it in his head that his growth as a person required moving as far away from tiny little Casper, WV as he could. Which was fine, and would've been true if he’d put any actual EFFORT into growing up, except he made that decision without consulting his wife. Family was the most important thing in the world for her, which meant she didn't want to leave. Unfortunately, family was the most important thing in the world to her, and Edgar was technically her family.As far away as possible turned out to be Fortville, Indiana. At around 3000 people, it was certainly bigger than Casper, but much smaller than Edgar's ambitions. Unfortunately, they'd run out of gas, and got stuck in town long enough for Rebecca to work up her courage and deliver an ultimatum: they were eight hours from Casper, close enough to drive over, and she'd live no further away than that.Tyler was born a few years later and grew up the only "daughter" of the household, pretty in a generic way and polite to a fault. His homesick mama taught him that he'd know when he found his people on account of the decision to give up everything for them would only hurt a little. His pyramid-scheme chasing daddy taught him that the key to success is for people to think you're one of their people, and who gives a shit if it's true or not?Up until he was twenty he was a full-on social chameleon: he wore the closest thing he could get to the "right" clothes, he did his hair in the "right" way, he laughed at the right jokes and had a crush on all the right boys. Third runner up for prom queen, dated at least three members in the football team (the breakups were never his fault, of course. He'd take a relationship as far as the other person wanted, he only dated them because they wanted to date him after all), popular but not so popular for people to consider him a threat.Every holiday, Tyler and his mama went off to Casper to visit her family. That meant he ended up at the kids table with his two younger cousins Franc ( @keplersheetz) and Vicki. Franc and Vicki were practically sisters, Franc lived with Vicki's parents whenever her ma was off dealing with her host of mental issues, which meant that Tyler was kind of the third wheel.

Tyler ended up the responsible one, and town gossip went on about how they hoped he'd be a good influence, because wasn't he just a perfect little child? Gossip about Franc went on about how she was wild, about how she didn't follow rules, if she wasn't careful she'd end up just like her mother and didn't Vicki's parents worry about if she was a bad influence? No one gossiped about Vicki at all.

It created a weird circle of jealousy, where Tyler envied Franc for having the guts to be herself, Franc worried that Vicki would end up liking Tyler better than her, and Vicki wished somebody might talk about her instead of other people’s “influence” on her. In general, Tyler and Franc didn't get along on account of they were very different and had no interests in common, but when you spend months each year as an obligatory playmate you end up developing at least a little fondness.Tyler went to Indiana University Bloomington, close enough to home for both his parents and also in possession of a Bachelors program for early childhood education. He quickly acquired a job at the library, a reputation as "a pleasure to have in class," an overcommitment to several clubs, and a thoroughly mediocre boyfriend. He also ended up in two classes with and as a coworker to Monet, ( @pleasekalemenow). In sophomore year, the two were roommates and in three classes together, which was haha a funny coincidence. Then in Spring term Tyler had a stress breakdown and Monet was so thrown by composed, fake-ass Tyler losing his shit over something completely minor that she ended up sitting with him for four hours and now they're best friends.In the summer before Junior year he was like "hey wait a fucking second, if I'm completely changing my personality around other people so that they'll like me...do they actually like me?" and decided that fuck it, I'm going to just have my own personality and work my hardest to make it so people find that person likable. The most obvious shift - aside from him breaking up with his mediocre boyfriend and quitting half of his clubs - was coming out as, you know, a dude.

His parents didn't really...get it? His mom continues to this day to treat it as something she supports but just can't understand, and his dad kind of took it as a personal attack because his dad is a self-obsessed jackass. The rest of the family didn't really express an opinion on any of this, on account of Vicki had a baby and Franc ran away from home just a little while later. Compared to having a daughter under 18 and just straight up disappearing, being trans wasn't all that embarrassing to them.Things went pretty decent for half of Junior year. Then one day while he was watching a kindergarten class, the last kid to be picked up at the end of the day turned into an eldritch horror and ate the other student teacher. The FBI’s Paranormal Research and Investigation division showed up and was like "hey I'm pretty sure you can guess that we're going to tell you to keep this hush hush, so keep this fucking hush hush." Tyler went "wow you know I don't like being kept in the dark about all this," so he changed his major to criminal justice and worked his ass off to graduate at the same time as everyone else. Then he joined the FBI, and when they were interviewing him he dropped some line about "oh, I saw something once and the, uh, I think it was PRI? Said that it was top secret dangerous business. I'd like to solve murders like that :)" and the PRI kind of went "well...I guess? we can hire? Him? He did a god job on all of his exams...we have no reason not to."At around this time he played the love interest in Monet's breakout limited access TV show, Once Upon a Cryptid. This show eventually gained Dr. Horrible levels of cult-classic fame, and Tyler is eternally thankful that T has at this point changed his look enough that no one really recognizes him beyond people he talks to on case being like "haha isn't it funny that you look kind of like actor Tyler Casey and you're an FBI agent just like his character?" And he just says "haha yeah I get that a lot :)"The PRI was also like "hey can you keep an eye on this person who is causing trouble with conspiracy theory shit?" Tyler says "uh yeah, sure? Anything I should know?" And the PRI is like "well it's your cousin, but other than that, nah, glhf :)"Tyler found this situation Vaguely Uncomfortable, so instead of being actually good at his job he took this opportunity to leave reminders to eat and warnings to keep her head down when she overreached. They were all signed with "The FBI Agent That's Watching You Right Now" and wow isn't it fucked up that they're closer as anonymous FBI stalker and conspiracy theorist than they were as proper childhood playmates? It fucks me up sometimes.Five years before the game starts, he goes on an investigation into what may or may not be a supernatural murderer. While in the area he runs into August Caraway ( @transagentstern), who is. Super his type. He immediately starts finding excuses to spend time w/ the hot, sensitive, painter, asking August to be his guide around the area. And also if he could see that painting that August is working on because it sounds really :) great :). Eventually he comes to the conclusion that the long periods of time between attacks and the COD indicate either a werewolf attack or a very patient predator. He goes "well, it's the new moon tonight...so if I take August out on a da-I MEAN INVESTIGATION into that clearing in the woods it'll be safe."Spoilers! It isn't!They get attacked by a werewolf. Tyler says "well, I'm an FBI agent so I should be the one to sacrifice myself" and tries to shoot the werewolf. It quickly takes him to the ground, but hey! At least August has time to run! Except instead of running, August goes up to try and save Tyler. Which ends in them both getting bitten before the silver bracelets August always wears fend the thing off. August manages to drag Tyler to civilization before losing consciousness, and the two wake up in separate hospitals. August is told Tyler got sent to a special FBI hospital, but is fine. Tyler is told August got tired of waiting around for him to wake up and left. (More fun facts: this happened the day before Pigeon's birthday! Wow! Terrible)Tyler is kept under observation for the rest of the month, just to make sure he's fine. He is, of course, not fine. The PRI is super stoked to have access to someone who is fully willing to spend the rest of his month j chillin' and then come in on the full moons, on account of most of the werewolves they have access to are ones they caught and have to keep hold of all the time. Which, like, unlawfully contained civilians are a shitty baseline.So, despite having research in their name, the PRI kinda fucking sucks at research. Their methodology is to just try shit until they figure out 1. How to kill the monster and 2. How to spot the affliction/how it progresses. They are perfectly aware of how to kill werewolves, so really all they do is stage observations under different stress conditions to play “how to spot a werewolf”.

Every experiment is just put them in a cage with moonlight access, see whether the transformation is faster/slower when the person has a certain diet/fitness level/etc. Most of the subjects can’t leave bc they’d run away and are also liable to transform sometimes which is inconvenient.

The PRI isn't especially concerned about Tyler, because they know one of the conditions for a transformation is high stress and if there's one thing he's good at it's completely repressing an anxiety attack, so he's able to pretty much do his job aside from the whole "locked up under the full moon" thing. Of course, he's ostracized by his coworkers on account of he's like. Literally a monster. But that's fine! He has Monet! Who he never tells anything about all this because he doesn't want to worry her, and also because her brother (coincidentally August, though Tyler doesn't know that) died around the time of his attack and he doesn't want her to blame herself for never trying to come see him.Good things that happen in these 5 years: he has an amicable relationship with Franc. He gets good at his job. He and Monet discover that the uncanny coincidences which led to them always having classes together carry over into their adult life, and they constantly run into each other while performing their respective jobs. She sometimes invites him to parties to stop men from hitting on her, and because he looks vaguely like Jake Gyllenhaal (that's Tyler's face claim) they get to laugh about all the tabloid rumors that Monet is dating Jake.The bad news is Tyler never had access to the other werewolves prior to the attack (it wasn't his division, and he wasn't usually in a position to take anything alive) which means he's never been around to see a new one, to watch the arc of their deterioration. Usually it goes like this: they wake up, alone and naked in a room with only a bed, a desk, and an uncomfortable wooden chair. They are given clothing by an FBI agent, sometimes that agent is sympathetic, sometimes sneering, but usually expressionless. Each full moon they transform, and remember nothing of it save pain, hunger, and the feeling of their claws digging into the metal walls. Fear is a trigger for transformation, as is anger. They are always afraid, always angry. Eventually, it becomes rare to see them in their human forms.The PRI is fucking stupid. A reasonable person might say "duh, werewolves turn when they're scared, maybe if we put them someplace less scary they'll stop turning so much." Instead, they write in their notes, the notes Tyler receives, "we're fairly certain that, at some point, the humanity of a werewolf is completely lost." He only sees werewolves that have not been human in months, or even years. Or, he sees the ones who are even worse off.The worse news is that Tyler is told there's a cure. Sometimes, the PRI manages to poke and prod at a werewolf and for reasons we just don't understand they never transform again. So he doesn't argue with the tests, and even if he writes a will he doesn't tell Monet anything because he might be fine, and he doesn't want to worry her. He throws himself into his work and into making Monet happy, because he wants to make sure that if he is lost he leaves a legacy. There's something to prove that Tyler Casey's existence was justified.Then he finds out what the cure entails. It's not recovery, not at all; it's pushing someone so hard, making them so afraid, that their body can't take being afraid anymore. A person who’s too tired to feel doesn't shift, not even under the full moon, because the werewolf's state of mind is defined by the person's emotions before it happens (so if someone was actually CALM, really truly calm, then they'd manage to control it, but hunger and anger and fear can all throw that out of wack). If the person is numb, there is nothing for the curse to react to.Tyler Casey would rather die after trying his hardest than live longer but not be able to do anything. So, when he manages to find a job opening at The Askar Foundation, a secret society with more funding and more knowledge than the FBI could ever hope for, he has no qualms spilling the PRI's secrets in exchange for a position as a field agent.As you can probably guess, August, Monet, and Franc are all there as well. The circumstances of their recruitment were significantly less...consensual than his (Monet and Franc recently saw too much and got pressganged in, and after nearly killing Franc while transformed August got dragged in for Askar's own brand of tests). This leads to a veritable five layer dip of fucking drama:1. Franc and Tyler have a private conversation which leads to the revelation of several character secrets on both their parts. This ends when Tyler and Franc both insist that they saw different things during one of the scenes. Franc has always had the ability to tell when people lie to her, but she is also convinced she's right about their topic of conversation (which uh, she IS right, so). That means that, despite the fact that she can't feel him lying, he MUST be. She's convinced that he's had the supernatural ability to get around her own uncanny powers this whole time, and thus they engaged in a Comedy of Errors where instead of mistaken identities it’s Tyler saying things that further convince Franc he's trying to manipulate the entire team2. The Askar foundation would very much like to keep their shiny new field agent, and also Tyler still has connections to the FBI and him snitching to them would be.........inconvenient. So they're willing to put effort, within reason, into making sure he doesn't find out anything that might cause problems, like the fact that August is a kind of monster Tyler has a massive vendetta against. Or uh...anything else that might make him question them. This leads to3. Askar shutting down a conversation between him and Monet, leading to her concluding that talking about their past experiences with the supernatural OR the workings of Askar will never go well. (Exacerbated by the fact that Askar had already been trying to keep her from finding out shit about her brother) 4. Consequently, Monet will no longer talk to him about deep personal topics if they lead back to these things at ALL5. Franc ended up in a romantic entanglement w/ the monster of the week, who is a shapeshifter unwillingly being used to bring about...the apocalypse. He thinks the reason she doesn’t trust him is because she figured out he was a werewolf, and doesn’t trust him/is keeping an eye on him so she can put him down when he becomes dangerous. So he thinks she hates him bc he’s a shapeshifter that has no control over himself, but then she’s fine with...the OTHER shapeshifter that has no control over himself.6. August thinks Tyler hates werewolves because of the attack, and is afraid to enter a relationship with him because he wouldn't be able to keep his condition a secret7. Tyler refuses to let himself entertain notions of actually DATING August, because Tyler thinks he's going to die and doesn't want to hurt even MORE people when he goes8. Tyler and Monet platonically love each other so much and are also living together in Seinfeld's mansion that she stole the keys to, and Tyler is an idiot which means August thinks Tyler wants to date Monet (August's SISTER)So tl;dr, Tyler thinks that after Franc gained access to more Askar files she suddenly doesn't trust him (he assumes she knows he's a werewolf), he knows that Monet suddenly doesn't want to TALK to him and knows that if he discovers anything suspicious he thus cannot tell her, and he knows he......really, really, REALLY is starting to enjoy August's companyThis means that conversations oscillate between Tyler being professionally friendly with all his coworkers, Franc interpreting something random as a personal attack, Monet deeply wishing she could tell Tyler something, and then a completely stupid conversation where Tyler and August are flirting about something stupid and getting cockblocked by Tyler's hangups and August remembering that as far as he's concerned Tyler and Monet should get together.Oh and also Askar definitely is fucking with his head at least once a session.

[hoseokutie]

Best Friends Baby 1

Hello everyone! After nearly a month, I am finally publishing the Namjoon series. I’m so so sorry about the long wait, but I thank everyone that was patient and waited for me to post this. You all are greatly appreciated! I hope that you enjoy this series!

Words: 1.6K

Warnings: Minor swearing, fluff, Sassy Namjoon, smut in future parts.

A/N: Since this blog is mainly AMBW based, Y/N is a black woman.

“Alright so Chinese or Pizza for dinner?” Namjoon asked holding up two menus.

“I’m in the mood for sesame chicken, but I’m also in the mood for some cheesy bread. Let’s just do both. I’ll pay for one and you pay for the other.” You replied.

Today was Saturday, Saturday’s were specifically for you and Namjoon. Neither of you had to go to work or run any errands. Your house was the location of the hangout, more specifically, your living room.

“You have to put another chair right here so that the fort stays up and doesn’t fall like last weekend.” He pointed out.

“In my defense, I was on my period and my cramps were on a level 100. It’s not my fault.” You said.

“Yeah okay.” He mumbled.

You and Namjoon have been friends since sixth grade. You were both new to middle school and had almost every class together. Some call it fate, but you and Namjoon just think that it’s a coincidence.

“Alright the food will probably be here in 45 minutes, so what do you want to do until then?” He asked bending down to help you with the fort.

“We can talk. I feel like we haven’t had a heart to heart in a while, y’know. I miss you best friend.” You said sitting down on the carpet.

“I know, I miss you too. Work has been kicking my ass. Being an English teacher is only fun sometimes. Kids can be so mean.” He said and you shook your head.

“Don’t think of it like that. Kids aren’t always terrible.”

“This is coming from the girl that is literally a pediatric nurse. Your opinion is invalid.” Namjoon rebutted.

“I’m using your lap as a pillow, don’t say no, okay thanks.” He said to you quickly, while sliding down into your lap.

“Thanks for giving me a choice, you’re lucky I like you.” You told him, running your fingers through his purple hair.

“Your hands are going to put me to sleep.” He mumbled while closing his eyes.

“Good. the quicker you sleep, then the more of your food that I can eat.” You joked and his eyes shot open quickly.

“You know what, I’m just going to stay awake until the food gets here. Entertain me.” He playfully demanded.

“Well there is one thing we can do, but it’s pretty intense, and it involves a lot of movement. Are you prepared for that?” You asked him in a sultry voice.

Namjoon sat up slowly and looked at you while moving closer to your face.

“Are you talking about what I think you’re talking about babe?” He asked.

You bit your lip and nodded your head. He slowly moved his hand over your thigh and down your back, then towards your butt.

“Mario Kart!” You both exclaimed, giving each other high fives.

Believe it or not, but this was actually normal for you and Namjoon. You both have always been flirty with one another, most people even thought that you two were dating, that’s how close you guys are.

“I call using the nunchuck!” You said reaching for it.

“No fair, you got to use it the last time we played. It’s my turn!” He grabbed the nunchuck as well.

“Well you should have called dibs on it.” You pulled it towards you.

“Everytime I try to your loud ass has already said something.” He argued pulling the controller towards him.

“Oh so I’m loud now?” You asked pretending to be offended.

“I don’t know, you tell me.” He said in a flirtatious voice.

You frowned at his words and let go of the device.

“Take it, nasty ass.” You mumbled the last part and turned the game on.

“Oh come on, you love the weird stuff I say.” He said.

“Yeah keep telling yourself that Joonie.” You looked over at him and smiled.

You both chose your characters and the vehicles you wanted. You decided to go for your regular choice, Princess Daisy, and her orange bike to complete the set. Namjoon on the other hand decided to change everything, he’s convinced himself that changing the characters everytime helps improve his chances of winning. He’s wrong. Every time.

“There you go, being basic again.” He said.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, leaning back against the couch in order to get comfortable.

“This is coming from the man who chooses something different each and every time, but still manages to lose each time.” You shot back.

“You don’t have to be so mean to me.” He mumbled sadly.

“Don’t dish it if you can’t take it.” You stuck your tongue out at him.

The game started and your competitive side jumped out. When it came to gaming your whole attitude changed completely. It didn’t matter who you were playing with, anybody that even dared to be your opponent was asking to feel your wrath.

“Would you look at that, I’m catching up to you. Am I finally going to be the one that knocks you off your winning streak?” Namjoon was trying to mess with you as he often does.

“Sweetie it’s only the second lap. Don’t try and test me Namjoon.” You rebutted, hitting Luigi with a red shell now putting yourself in first place.

“Asshole” He mumbled while continuing to play the game.

“Final lap!” You exclaimed sitting up on your knees, moving closer to the tv.

“Move your big ass head!” He stood up and attempted to push you out of the way, but you stayed planted on the ground.

You were close to the finish line, but Namjoon was right on your back, literally and figuratively.

You could practically see the finish line from your position in first place, when the doorbell rang.

“The food!” You and Namjoon both announced still not taking your eyes off of the game.

“Get the door, it’s your credit card!” You demanded still playing the game.

“No way, that could be the pizza. You’re paying for that one!” He argued.

“Who is it?!” You yelled.

“Chinese Food!” The delivery man responded.

“Fuck!” Namjoon cursed.

“HA! I WIN!” You cheered, standing up and throwing the remote control on the couch nearby.

“You cheated.” He said sadly, walking over to the front door with a tip in his hand.

“No, you just suck.” You said playfully, you turned off the television and clicked on the Netflix icon on your television.

“Hey cheater, your bread sticks are here.” Namjoon said to you.

“Thanks sore loser, grab the sodas from the fridge.” You walked to the front door and smiled at the delivery girl.

“Your total is $10.76.” She said, you handed her the exact change as well as a tip.

“I’m taking the fruit punch soda!” Namjoon yelled as he walked into the living room.

“No you’re not!” You shouted back, handing the girl the receipt.

“Too late!”

You rolled your eyes and sighed, taking your hot food from her.

“You and your boyfriend are adorable.” She said.

You laughed and shook your head at her before looking back at Namjoon.

“He’s not my boyfriend, he’s like my best friend. Or my annoying older brother even.”

“What is taking you so long?” He asked walking up to the front door and taking the food for you.

“I’m making conversation with the delivery girl, she thought you were my boyfriend. Isn’t that funny?” You asked.

Namjoon looked down at you and pouted before wrapping one of his arms around your shoulder.

“Why is that funny, we’ve been dating for almost three years now. We’re even getting married in two months. Are you not wearing your ring?” He asked picking up your hand and looking for a ring that’s not actually there.

You looked at him in shock and hit his chest quickly pushing him away gently.

“Please don’t believe him! He’s crazy and doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” You told the delivery girl and she laughed.

“You two are the cutest, I hope the wedding goes well.” She waved at you both and walked back to her car.

Namjoon closed the door and looked down at you with a derpy smile on his face while poking yours with his pointer finger.

“What in the hell is wrong with you Namjoon!?” You asked hitting his arm again before walking over to the couch.

“I just like it when you get angry. You’re super cute.” He poked your nose amd you swatted at his hands.

“Stop being so weird!” You grabbed a paper plate and began to pile food onto it.

“I have been waiting all day for this.” You said. Handing Namjoon the container of rice.

“Did you eat today?” He asked , scooping some sesame chicken onto his plate.

“No I didn’t. I got in super late from work, so the first thing I wanted to do was sleep.” You explained to him.

“Y/N! I told you to stop doing that. I know that you don’t have much time, but at least have like a yogurt or something. I buy them for you, because you say that you like them.” He told you.

You smiled as you ate your food, it felt nice to have Namjoon worry about you like this. He was always the cutest when he was concerned, and you loved it.

“Alright Joonie, I’m sorry. I will make sure that no matter how sleepy I am, I will at least have a yogurt cup or something. Okay?” You looked over at him and held out your pinky finger.

He looped his pinky around yours and kissed your fingers.

“This promise can no longer be broken, now let’s eat."

[yodawgiherd]

Reminiscence

Rating: T

>>>Read on AO3<<<

There should be more fun ways of waiting for someone than to just sit on your ass and drum a series of tiny holes into your cup. As Levi watched the crowds rolling around him, he couldn’t help but wonder why Petra picked a place like this. It was not his preference to be out in the open, yet when the lady suggested it, he just kind of rolled along with her decision. Not like he had any ties to a coffee shop he had to visit anyway. And there she was, moving through the people like a fish in a water, clearly used to this kind of life. Petra spotted him right away, making a bee line to his chair and sitting down, smiling radiantly after.

“Sorry I’m late, had a call from work I had to solve.”

“It’s all right.”, Levi shrugged, indifferent, “I don’t mind waiting.”

“Okay….”, Petra put her hands on the table, eyes fixing into Levi’s. “So, I’m finally here.”

He snorted.

“Obviously.”

“Something you want to tell me? Maybe?”, she urged him on.

And Levi knew what she was talking about, of course he did, but he was never big on past and especially talking about himself and didn’t feel like opening up to Petra. Despite the promise he gave her, just a few days ago, the asshole he was. He cleared his throat.

“The weather’s nice.”

Petra blinked in confusion, having no idea how cowardly he felt right now.

“I guess?”, she stammered.

“It’s cold, although not as cold as the weather report said it will be. We should count ourselves lucky.”

“Okay, weather is nice,”, she slowly nodded, “but maybe there’s something else you want to talk about?”

“My gym is doing pretty good lately.”

“That’s… good to hear.”

“Indeed. All the fame Mikasa got from winning the tourney, the sponsors, now the money from the photoshoot.”, he flashed his completely out of the loop companion a victorious smile, “I’m thinking of remodeling, maybe expanding even and…”

Petra’s hand hit the table, interrupting his monologue.

“Okay that’s enough.”, the confusion on her face was replaced by a mild anger and irritation, contorting her features, “I won’t sit here and listen to your stalling for a minute more. I came here to get some answers, Levi, and if you are not willing to give them to me, then I don’t see a point of being here at all. You promised to explain why you went missing, without a word, and after all those years you still try bullshitting me? I deserve better.”

Seems like he couldn’t mislead her forever. Well, Petra always was a sharp one.

“I’m sorry.”, he said, directing his gaze at his hands, “it’s my defense mechanism. I usually try not to talk about myself too much, it’s too… personal I guess.”

A warm touch enveloped his right palm, as Petra reached over the desk, squeezing supportively.

“Please Levi,”, she whispered, “help me understand.”

Ah fuck it.

“My parents got murdered,”, he blurted out, wanting to be done with this little window into his soul as quickly as possible, “and my sister was going into adoption. I couldn’t allow that. Got her on a trial period, as her guardian, but to keep her I had to have bigger financial income. In order to do that, I left college, started working full time, and inherited the gym when the old owner died. That’s it, no more secrets.”

Puzzled by the lack of answer, Levi looked up, seeing that Petra had a hand over her mouth, blinking rapidly while her eyes seemed strangely wet.

“Oh my god,”, she breathed out, “I’m so sorry.”

“Been a long time. Got over it.”

“But why did you cut all contact with us?”, Petra’s voice was still shaky, yet he had no trouble of understanding her, “We could have helped you, we were your friends, no?”

“I guess I wanted to start a new chapter in my life.”, Levi grimaced a bit, “I wasn’t really in a good condition back then, mentally, and it just seemed like the only way forward without burdening anybody.”

It was just the way he was. Even with life dumping everything onto him, he was determined to shoulder all the weight himself and silently carry it to the best of his ability, never asking for help. Petra let go of his hand, reluctantly, in an attempt to regain some composure. After dabbing the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief, getting rid of the moisture, she took a deep breath.

“Thank you for telling me all this.”

A shrug.

“You deserve it.”

“Well, since we got that out of the way.”, she offered him a smile, “What do you want to talk about now?”

And they talked, for long time, about their pasts and presents. Levi learned that Petra was an independent contractor, moving all over the state, although lately she’s been doing a lot of work for Kiyomi and her company. In return, Levi told her all about the gym, the tournament Mikasa won, even begrudgingly talking about Eren, and the influence he had on his little sister. For some reason, Petra seemed really interested in hearing more about that brat.

“So that was the guy at the party? The one with the long hair?”

“Yea, that’s him.”

Yeager and his stupid overlong hair, name a more iconic duo. I’ll wait.

“You know, your sister seemed really happy around him.”

“That’s her. Totally on cloud nine whenever he opens his big mouth.”, Levi frowned, watching Petra’s slight grin over the rim of his glass. “Why do you ask?”

“Just trying to find the reason why you dislike the guy so much.”

“I don’t dislike him.”

“Sure you don’t.”, she teased, “Only anytime you say his name your face sours as if you had to bite into a lemon.”

Levi sighed, a tiny bit embarrassed about the way he felt about his sister’s fiancé who seemed to bring her nothing but happiness. The protective instinct was hard to push down.

“I’m just worried you know. Don’t want to see Mikasa heartbroken.”

“From the way they acted at the party I don’t really see them breaking up any time soon.”, she giggled, “Judging from how often they kissed, they breathe each other instead of oxygen.”

Oh yes, Levi totally needed that mental image.

“Mikasa is…. complicated, all right?”, he pressed on, determined to make Petra see his point, “She had shit for childhood, and I’m very far from being an ideal role model.” Seeing that she still wasn’t understanding him very well, he went on, without going into too much detail. It wouldn’t be very nice to dump all Mikasa’s secret to someone she didn’t even know, but Petra deserved to know at least the rough outlines.

Honestly, ever since she left for college Levi was silently dreading the phone call telling him that his sister assaulted someone. Again. The memory of the boy whose hand she broke just for touching her was fresh in his mind, and it was easy to guess that older guys will be easily more handsy than the high schoolers were. Not to mention all the parties and alcohol that would flow through the dorms. But instead of anything like that, Mikasa called him after about a week, telling him that she met someone special. Levi would never admit that, but his heart still fluttered at the memory. And yet it didn’t put his worries to rest, not completely. Relationship meant intimacy beyond anything Mikasa experienced so far, and Levi had no idea if she was prepared for that. Uncountable times he held her hand until she fell asleep, only for her to still wake up screaming from a nightmare. He raised her, and still she jolted sometimes, when he touched her shoulder unannounced, the hostile expression flashing in her face until she realized who he was. Sure, she was beautiful, anyone could see that, but also troubled, deep inside, and he had no idea if anyone would ever manage to solve that puzzle that Mikasa was.

And girl like this was supposed to hold hand with someone, kiss someone, share a bed, maybe even go further than that? Back then, Levi steeled his heart, waiting for the tearful call from her, her first break up, and was ready to assist her in any way necessary. But the call never came. Instead, he watched this guy, this Eren, put a hand around his sister’s waist without her flinching, press a kiss to her cheek, even a full one on the mouth without anything but happy reciprocation from her. He watched as he made her laugh with his stupid jokes, the weird fixation he had with her hair, endlessly playing with the strands, how naturally they talked, bantering each other, and all the other little things that made him wonder what kind of magic he used to break though Mikasa’s shell. Thought even with this miraculous progress, there were other reasons why he initially didn’t like the guy that much.

“Levi, can we talk?”, she dropped this on him during one of their trainings, still in college. “It’s about Eren.”

Her relationship was just a few days old, back then, so upon hearing this Levi immediately started preparing his best supportive monologue for going through rough breakup. Yet before he could get a word out, she continued.

“I recently found out something and it’s been bothering me.”, she idly played with her fingers, sign of being nervous, “He’s rich.”

“Oh, I see.”, Petra interrupted his story, rather rudely in his opinion, “He didn’t offer you money for your gym when you were doing bad? That’s why?”

“No, that’s not it at all. I don’t even think I could ask him for cash, ever.”

“Why’s that?”

“Wanting money from a guy who’s dating your sister?”, Levi shook his head, “It would feel like pimping her out, I could never do it. Never.”

Plus, Eren was taking a great care of Mikasa anyway. He gave her the bike, then the flat they lived in together at first, and after finishing school the house they moved in.

“Okay then, sorry for stopping you. Go on, please.”

“Only if you promise to keep quiet.”

She made a show of locking her mouth shut and throwing away the key.

“Right, where was I…”

“Rich?”, he said, stroking his chin, “You didn’t know that before?”

Mikasa shot him a reprimanding look.

“This might come as a surprise for you, but we didn’t go around at that party exchanging the balances of our accounts. There really was no reason to wonder about my or his financial situation, but last night we started talking about how we used to live and the conversation just kind of got there.”

“All right, but why is it a bad thing?”

“I mean, the truth is that I’m not exactly drowning in money, right? And with him being like this….”, she grimaced, “I don’t want people to think I’m a gold digger or anything, you know?”

“Does he think that?”

She looked up form her fidgeting fingers, wondering what he meant.

“Think what?”

“That you are only after his money.”

“No, of course not. He knows I had no idea.”

“Then fuck the others.”, Levi leaned in, putting a hand on Mikasa’s shoulder, “You know the truth, and he knows the truth. That’s what matters, right?”

She grinned, nodding.

“Fuck them.”

“The supportive brother.”, Petra patted his hand again, “It’s good to see that side of you that isn’t a total dick to everyone.”

“Yea, I try to keep it hidden.”

“You are doing an amazing job of that.”

“Good to hear.”

“Listen, I really enjoyed our talk, but I really have to go.”, with an apologetic shrug, Petra stood up, offering her hand. Levi took it, shaking it lightly, and for some reason he found himself not wanting this moment to end.

“Maybe we could meet again?”, the words left his lips before he could stop himself, but Petra didn’t seem offender by his proposition. On the contrary, she smiled.

“I’d love that.”

As she was leaving, a seemingly last thought struck her, and Petra turned on the spot, getting Levi’s attention.

“Now that I think about it, I never asked what’s your second half, right?”

He just started at her.

“You know, you are half Japanese, so what’s the other one? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Nah, its fine.”, interesting question that’s for sure,” Dad was Russian.”

“Really? Well, maybe you could help me with translating a phrase I’ve been hearing. Now how did it go…”

Levi could see it, from the way her lips pressed together, trying to keep the giggling in, from the sparkle of her eyes, and all the other different signs of her body. He sighed.

“Don’t say it...”

Petra just ignored him, as usual.

“Oh, i remember! Cyka blyat.”

Levi's head hit the table.

In retrospective, staying behind alone with Mikasa at the bar was a really stupid idea on Jean’s part. Sasha was god knows where, Connie left early, saying he must take care of something, and suddenly it was just the two of them, putting finishing touches at the interior. Most of the time they worked silently, exchanging just the necessary words, but it was more than enough. Despite all his talk with Hitch, despite his brave words about being over it, Jean still found himself captivated by her, the way she moved, the sure grip of her fingers, the strength she displayed with easily picking up stuff he would never guess she can lift. And then there were those little things. Redness of her cheeks from the physical activity, movement of her hand as she brushed some strands of hair from her face, the smile she shot him when they finished a particularly difficult talk together. In the end, it all boiled down to the hammer. Mikasa asked him to hand it to her, and he did, but when she was taking it from him their fingers brushed, and Jean’s eyes shot up, traveling over her body. And that’s when he saw them. The bruises. Littered all over neck, at the top, even disappearing beneath the fabric of her shirt, although there was a strip in the middle without any, as if whoever put those love bites on her avoided that area, for reasons unknown. Feeling like all the air was pushed out of his lungs, Jean made a pathetic excuse and dashed out of the door, leaving the confused Mikasa alone, unable to face her anymore.

Cursing himself, cursing her, cursing whatever came into his mind, he dug through his pockets for a cigarette, only to realize that he quit smoking, years ago, pulling out his phone instead, staring at the display. Robbed of nicotine, he thought of a different way to make himself feel better, the one he used multiple times recently, and dialed Hitch’s number, waiting for her to answer. Luck didn’t seem to completely desert him, yet at least, because after two rings, she picked up, greeting him with the voice he came to like and admire so much.

“Hey Hitch, you free for lunch? Want to meet?”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: Puppy On Board (3/?) - Ao3 link

Fandom: Legends of Tomorrow Pairing: Mick Rory/Leonard Snart (currently gen)

Summary: In which life is Big, and Tough, and Extremely Frustrating - but mostly because Len is currently a goddamn puppy.

————————————————————————————–

On one hand (paw?), Len is pathetically grateful to be back with Mick once more. Just seeing his partner again, when he'd just about lost all hope, is everything he could've wanted and more.

On the other, though, does Mick really need to sleep for so long?

Clearly not.

It's unhealthy, that's what it is.

Len's doing Mick a favor when he sticks his nose into Mick's ear and slobbers on him till he wakes up.

Really.

No matter what Mick might be saying – or, more accurately, cursing.

"You want more to eat, huh?" Mick finally asks, rubbing his face.

Len totally woke Mick up out of concern for his health - but if more food is on the offer, well, you know, he’s not going to refuse...

He's a growing puppy, damnit.

"Food every two hours is apparently normal at your age," Mick said sleepily, heading to the kitchenette corner in his room. "So, I guess it ain't your fault."

Hmph. As if Len would be motivated by something so base as biology.

(Oh, but that milk is good. Hits the spot just right. God, he was so hungry.)

A satisfactory feeding later, Mick puts Len down on the ground and opens the door. "C'mon," he grunts, tossing on a robe - clearly a Legends-imposed requirement, because Mick still sleeps proudly nude as always. "I'd better get you out of here before you decide to piss."

Actually, on that subject, Len's pretty sure he saw - ah, good, there it is.

Mick's still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, which is probably why it takes him a second to catch up to what Len is doing, and on what.

"Wait, no, puppy, that's Sara's - welp, nevermind, that's a lost cause right there." Mick sighs. "I'll tell Sara she needs to get a new pack before the next mission. And maybe clean this one. She'd better not try to make me clean it, when she shouldn’t have left it hanging around where a puppy in search of revenge could get to it..."

Len gives his best "I'm an innocent puppy, really" grin.

Mick gives him a beady-eyed glare. "Don't think I'm not onto you."

Len's smile fades for a moment, then comes back at twice the strength. Mick's figured it out? Already? Thank God! Maybe they can skip ahead to figuring out a good way for Len to communicate, or maybe even to turning him back into a human so that -

"You're trouble, that's what you are," Mick announces.

...oh.

Len whines and slumps down, a process that involves just giving up on this whole standing business and splaying out on all fours like the weight of the world has come crashing down on his puppy shoulders.

"Hey, I didn't mean that," Mick said, crouching down. "It's okay, you're a good boy deep down - yes, that's right, a good boy -"

Len is not a good boy.

Len isn't even a good puppy.

And he likes it that way, damnit! He's a bad, bad man! He’s a supervillain and proud of it, except that right now he's a goddamn puppy.

Near-newborn puppies are not, despite Len’s best efforts, very intimidating.

"C'mon, back to bed."

Fine. But only for a bit, and then Len's waking Mick up again out of sheer spite!

...and possibly hunger.

"Don't know what your mom was thinking letting you wander off this young," Mick comments.

Len nips at one of his fingers, aiming to get him with one of the few milk teeth that have fully grown in so that it will sting.

Don't talk about my mom like that. Not even you, Mick.

Mick chuckles and pets his head and yawns a bit, heading back to his room, his eyes already heavy.

Len huffs, then frowns, picking up a strange scent.

He cranes his neck as far out as he can, just barely able to see around Mick.

It's the new guy - Nate.

He's not doing anything, just standing there, staring blankly down the hallway. He doesn't move or say hi or anything - Mick clearly missed his presence there entirely, and Len would have, too, if his new sense of smell wasn't so strong.

Len yips a tentative greeting, giving a vague wag of the tail, but there's no response and anyway Mick is taking Len away at speed, so there's no time to investigate.

Weird.

Whatever, Nate's sleepwalking issue isn't Len's business.

A few hours later, the Legends all gather in the med bay, which seems to Len like a weird-ass place to meet given the existing presence of a bridge designed specifically for that purpose, but their intention quickly becomes clear.

"Surely the temporal energy doesn't keep you from doing a scan at all, right, Gideon?" Zari asks.

"I can do a surface scan," she says. "And determine health, albeit superficially. For some reason, my DNA scanners can't seem to make head or tails of him."

Head or tails. Heh. Because he has a tail now.

Len finds that said tail wagging in approval entirely without his consent.

He’s going to really enjoy the dog puns.

"Well, what's your verdict, then?" Sara asks.

"He's a very healthy male puppy, with no serious diseases or other issues that I can determine. Comparing his appearance to other images I have, I would estimate an age somewhere a little over two weeks old, though I'm unsure how much older given the temporal issue."

"What breed is he?" Nate asks, giving his fingers for a lick.

Len is tempted - so many interesting smells! - but he pointedly turns his back on Nate to give Zari's fingers some attention. He's pretty sure Nate was on the pro-castration side of things, even if he didn't speak up, and anyway it makes Zari laugh in delight and Nate mutter under his breath about favoritism and it's not even Amaya...!

So, you know, there.

"He appears to be a mix of breeds," Gideon announces.

"So, a mutt," Sara says. "He fits right in already."

"But what breeds?" Nate asks. "That could impact his behavior and needs and - stuff."

"Stuff," Amaya says, amused.

"Hey, I know something about dogs. Not much, I admit, but..."

"I believe there is a significant proportion of husky," Gideon says. "Thereby accounting for the coloration, general form, and blue eyes - though those might be a puppy feature that darken as he gets older."

"Those ears aren't even slightly husky," Amaya objects.

"That's correct - some sort of spaniel, I would estimate, given the size of his ears and - ah - their proportion to his body -"

Len'll grow into them.

"He'll grow into 'em," Mick says.

Len loves Mick. Wise man.

"Hold up," Sara says, eyeing the ears. "How big is he going to get? We don't have enough space for a full-on herding dog here -"

"Huskies are working dogs, not herding dogs, I think," Ray says helpfully from where he's lurking by the door. "And Mick can take him on walks around the ship, or outside once we land."

"If we take him outside, he'll get lost," Zari objects, reaching out to rub Len under the chin.

"He can barely walk or regulate his own temperature right now," Mick grunts. "Doesn't exactly seem like an urgent issue."

"Barely walking or not, he still made his way onto the Waverider," Sara reminds him.

"Should we chip him?" Nate asks.

Len sniffs. Nate's the one who ought to be chipped, what with that sleepwalking habit.

"Not at this age," Amaya says firmly.

"Perhaps a small collar could be fashioned," Gideon suggests. "And the tracking chip placed under the nameplate."

Len sighs noisily. It's not like he hadn't been expecting to be collared eventually, given his shape.

Luckily he didn't have any bad associations with collaring, unless you count a certain period of never-to-be-spoken-of-again bad fashion choices back in the 90s...

The Legends, however, met Gideon's announcement with an almost stunned silence.

"Oh, man," Nate says, breaking it after a moment, "his name. Mick, have you named him yet, or can we help?"

"Well..." Mick said cautiously.

"No, no, please, let us help!"

"I still get veto power," Mick warns.

What about Len? Len should get veto power.

Personally, he's quite fond of "Boss" as an acceptable dog-like name -

"How about Spot?"

For shame, Nate. He doesn't even have spots! Coloration markings, yes, but not spots.

"No, no, Nate, not Spot," Ray says. "He doesn't have spots."

At least Mr. Castration-Is-Good-For-Dogs has some decent opinions.

"He's more black-and-white," Ray continues. "How about Oreo? Or Newsie, short for newspaper?"

Ugh. Positive statement retracted.

"No," Mick says. "Just - no."

"How about Joe?" Amaya suggests. "Or - Carl, maybe? Oh, I know! Rex!"

Len puts his head down and covers his head with his paws, whining pathetically.

"I think even the puppy thinks that's a no go," Sara says, snickering. "Sorry, Amaya."

"It's okay," Amaya says. "He's cute enough; I'll forgive him anything."

Len's traitorous tail gives a wag at that.

"How about something more thematic?" Zari suggests.

"Thematic?" Mick asks, sounding skeptical.

Len's not sure why; he loves things with a theme. If he has to be Heatwave's dog, then he might as well get named something appropriate. Flame or Explosion or Heatpup something -

No.

Hot Dog.

He can just see it now in a newscaster voice: “Here comes Heatwave, famed supervillain, and his trusted sidekick, Hot Dog…!”

Len sniggers, though it mostly comes off as a dry sort of huffing.

...he'd better stop that before they decide to name after Muttley or something.

(He’s far more of a Dick Dasterdly!)

“I’ve got an idea,” Zari says.

"Oh?" Sara asks. “What were you thinking?”

"Well, Mick is going to be the primary owner, right?" Zari says with a shrug. "We could match the dog to the owner."

C'mon, make the Hot Dog joke! Do it! It's right there!

"Something heat related, you mean?" Sara asks. "To match 'Heatwave'?"

"No, that's too obvious," Zari says. "I was thinking more of a contrast - Snowflake, or Snowy -"

"Oooh, Frosty!" Nate exclaims. “Cold Miser!”

"Or you could do the exact opposite of Mick's," Amaya says, "and call him 'Coldwave' -"

"No," Mick says flatly. "Nothing with Cold."

Len had been pretty much in favor of the names, no matter how dumb - he loves a good cold pun - but Mick's voice...

He's in pain.

Len whines, pulling his head out from under his paws and trying to go to Mick at once. It's his fault Mick is in such pain, his fault, he was the one who abandoned his partner like that and therefore only he can make it right. He might not be able to fix it, he's too small to do that, but he'll go and snuggle him and lick him and nip at his fingers till he feels better -

On his hurried way over to Mick, though, Len trips.

Over his own goddamn ear.

"- sensitive subject," Sara is murmuring when Len goes flying, and then she's not murmuring, she's laughing.

Everyone is laughing.

Even Mick, which is Len's sole consolation. Maybe it wasn't exactly how he was thinking of cheering Mick up, but whatever, it worked.

"Maybe we should call him Floppy," Ray says. "After his big old floppy ears -"

Len rights himself and growls at Ray.

"Awww," Sara coos. "Lil puppy don't like that."

"You named your last pet after a musician, right?" Nate asks. "Guns and Roses? What about something else like that?"

"Oh, I know!" Ray exclaims.

Oh, God, no.

"You could name him Tevye! After Fiddler on the Roof! That's your favorite musical, right?"

...okay, that one's not too bad. At least it respects Len's Judaism.

(Does Len have to be circumcised again now that he’s been reborn? He really hopes not. That was one experience he was very happy to not be aware during.)

"Maybe Fiddler would be easier?" Zari suggests. "Or Fiddlesticks? I like Fiddlesticks."

"I already know what I'm gonna call him," Mick says. "I thought of it last night."

They all look at him, even Len.

He's still hoping for 'Boss'.

"That puppy's name is Trouble."

...yeah, that's fair.

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A/N: I wish to give full credit to everyone's wonderful suggestions in the comments to chapter 2, all of which were great and very fitting, and also extremely helpful for writing this chapter :) hopefully work will go quiet again and I'll be able to write more of this soon!