#its been building up for seasons now that the job is catching up with him

[floralscented]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ˗ˏˋ 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟔𝟕.ᐟ ˎˊ˗

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ───── SEASON ONE, ───── ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ───────── PART ONE ─────────

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summary. california is a long drive & different in many ways to how dean's small-town, southern life in kansas was. but if there's one thing that's the same, it's the crackling of the annual start-of-the-year bonfire.

ㅤword count ! ㅤㅤ 2.7k ㅤㅤ content warnings ! ㅤㅤ no warnings! maybe a lil angst if u squint? welcome to stanford! ㅤㅤ track the season !

stanford is a twenty-seven hour drive from lawrence. all twenty-seven hours on the road were spent with the music so loud that dean’s ears still rang. he didn’t want to think about how his dad didn’t even tell him bye, or how sam was at school, and wouldn't get to. 

dean was strong, built to be a soldier from the moment he could hold a gun, constantly rising from the ashes of the destruction that his dad made of him, but he was not strong enough to know his brother would come home to an empty house. there was no doubt that their father would have skipped town already, on an alleged case that was more than likely just drowning himself in a case of booze.

it was whatever. he’d convinced himself of that in the two days that it’d taken to get from the shitty town that was lawrence to campus. his whole senior year was stressful to get to where he was now. minimum wage jobs, killing himself at football practice so the stanford recruiters would be interested in him, so he stood a chance. plus, his academics were stellar. he worked his ass off — just to have to abandon sammy at home, and not even get an ounce of approval from his stubborn father.

in front of him, the main building on stanford university’s campus towers above him like the greatest of monsters. the glass doors are open, held in a way that was meant to be inviting but was actually a little intimidating. the maws of the creature visible through its snarling mouth. 

dean had faced demons that wore his family’s face, who called him every name that they could think of while they rotted in a devil’s trap. he’d felt the fangs of a vampire hovering over his jugular before he’d even hit double digits, after his father did the hunter equivalent of tossing him into the deep end of the pool without any hands to catch him. this, though, felt like the scariest of all of them, just because of how natural it felt to get away.

he had to go get a parking pass. had to get his room assignment. had to talk to the football coaches about his position and his scholarship. had to unpack. all of the shit he had to do was piled atop the shit that he wanted to do, burying it in the rubble.

clusters of students already walk together down the brickstoned paths, their voices echoing off of the arched walls. their versions of home were rooted in civilization and the comfort of others, whereas his was in solitude and being on his lonesome.

dean didn’t get intimidated. he didn’t worry. but his skin was starting to crawl with the realization that he was as much of an outsider as outsiders could get. he did not belong amongst these people, felt like a wolf waltzing in sheep's clothing, but the point was that he was trying to.

he flips his phone open, a habit he’s developed since leaving home, to check for missed calls. there wasn’t a thing he could do if sammy needed help, but he wanted him to call, anyways. wanted to hear his voice. wanted to say sorry for abruptly leaving. 

but there was nothing, still. at least the excuse now could have been that sam was in school, but he was getting anxious. didn’t want to know how the absence of john winchester’s favorite punching bag would translate onto the next in line. 

dean shoves open the residence building’s door, struck dumb for a second by how long the line was. it made sense, but it still caught him offguard him, a little, that he was here. 

he’d made it.

a trio of girls finish up at the front desk and brush past him as they leave, one of them immediately breaking into giggles when they stumble away from him. the other two steal glances backwards at him once they’re nearing the exit. one's eyes lingered, held his stare like even if he clearly was out of place, you were not afraid of what it meant to be in the line of fire.

yeah. he liked it here. he could get used to this. 

next is a guy with shaggy black hair and the broadest shoulders that dean had ever seen. dean was big for his age, yeah, he'd thrown himself into working out when he realized that football was working for him, but this was a guy, clearly, who operated because of his bruteness, not the other way around.

his eyes are downturned toward the stack of papers in his hands, books tucked into the crook of his elbow, a backpack that looked ridiculously small on his shoulder. his eyes lift to squint down the line of people, like he's looking for something, and dean realizes in a wave of surprised horror when they land on him, that it was him he was looking for.

"dude!" the guy shouts — shouts! in the dead silence of the building! — his papers crinkling in his fists. he stomps up to dean and tosses his arms around him in a hug that dean had no choice but to awkwardly return, squashed arms patting at the guy's elbows.

dean didn't mind standing out, but this was another level. every eye in the room was on him when he was already certain that they were staring, and all he wanted to do was disappear. maybe this guy would crush him into pulp and solve those issues for him.

"you're my roommate," he says, scruffing a palm through dean's mop of blonde hair. "my roomie. ah, look, you're blushing."

dean's mortified. he shoves a hand into the guy's arm again, this time with the intent to push him away. "shut up." he nods at the crumpled paper's in his hands. "what the hell is your name, anyways?"

"taylor." taylor's eyes fall to his papers again, eyes narrowed as he scans across whatever he's reading. "dean. helluva name."

dean can't help but snort. "i mean. yeah. it's definitely... a name," he shoves his hands into his jeans' pockets, "football?"

stupid question, but he doesn't know what else to say to him. the guy's about to bust out of a letterman jacket, stretching the leather of the fabric with his broad frame. if he hugged dean one more time, it'd probably split down the back. "hell yeah," taylor says, and maybe the leather is used to this guy's antics, because when he lifts his arms in a flexing sort of pose, all it does is creak, "lineman for the last four years."

dean follows the slowly shrinking line, and to his dwindling horror, his roommate follows. yeah, he's a little much, but he's friendly, and dean really could use a friend in these times. "quarterback," dean answers a few seconds too late, then adds, "we're probably not gonna see the green at all this year, y'think?"

"speak for yourself," taylor snorts, adjusting the bag hanging off of him, "i'm gonna be a starter if it fuckin' kills me."

"yeah, alright," dean laughs, shaking his head. "good luck, man."

underclassmen usually didn't get anything but the bench, unless they were stupid good, and dean was stupid good for kansas standards; he was fully convinced for there to be a spot on the bench indented from his ass by the end of the season.

taylor had shrugged his backpack off in the few seconds that dean had zoned out, rifling through the front pocket for something. he tugs out a black sharpie and plucks the cap off with his teeth. "wisteria, gerhard casper quad, castaño building. room 12." his voice is muffled through the cap in his mouth.

"i don't know what any of that means, dude," dean says, blinking a couple of times in succession. taylor's already got his wrist in a death grip though, tugging it into his space, the cool tip of the permanent marker scribbling on his inner wrist.

"neighborhood, the buildin' complex, n' the buildin'," taylor lisps around the cap, tugging dean forward when the line moves again. "c'mon, keep up. we gotta get the fuck outta here, stake out the frat."

dean physically cringes.

"don't make that face." taylor spits the cap into his open palm, giving dean a bright grin. dean really can't handle this much energy when he's operating on three hours of sleep on a shoddy motel bed, after driving as long as he did. "it's phi kappa psi. they're like, the frat."

"oh."

taylor nods again to make dean move forward. one more person in line. "yeah, oh. gotta get our foot in the door, bud, 'fore some fuckin' losers take our spots."

dean is not interested in a frat whatsoever. if anyone tried to haze him, he's not confident in his ability to keep from snapping their jaw. his fight or flight had gone dormant since he'd pulled back from hunting, but it was still there, something that lingered constantly in the back of his mind.

"'sides, they're havin' a bonfire tonight, y'know?" dean did not know. but taylor likes how his voice sounds, it seems, and dean is very okay with just letting him talk. "for all the freshies. have it every year."

dean nods slowly, setting all of his things on the counter for the attendants. student id, driver's license, all of the works. in the trade, he's given his class schedule, his basics' books, parking pass, and his room assignment. he compares it to the unintelligible words on his wrist in black ink and — yeah, they could be the same.

"well, i'm gonna nap when we get to our room," dean says with a lopsided grin, "so if the bonfire's good, come 'n get me or somethin'."

"you're an idiot."

dean shrugs. "sure."

"free booze, sorority girls fallin' all over us..." taylor whistles under his breath before he promptly smacks dean over the head. "idiot."

his arms are heavy from his books. his eyes are heavy from the drive. he hasn't had real food that wasn't cooked and thrown into a brown paper bag in nearing forty-eight hours. but the thought of being at a bonfire that wasn't made with the intent to burn a body but just to have fun and meet people was nice. mundane. he wanted to be mundane so desperately.

dean shoves taylor back in the chest, a laugh falling from his grinning mouth. "yeah. yeah, alright, i'll go."

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the hot smell of burning firewood and spilt beer were the first two things to grace dean's nose upon walking onto the spacious front lawn of phi kappa psi's building.

guys in jerseys and backwards hats manned a white foldout table besides the asphalt porch steps, red cups in their free hands. girls in short skirts and guys in mussed up versions of their sunday best hovered around in clusters.

dean had left taylor at the drinks table, unwilling to listen to him dickride frat guys who were probably too off their asses to know what was being said to them. around the fire were foldout chairs, legs dug into the soft grass, and a huge tray of marshmallows and various other snacks to cook over the flame, parallel to where dean sat.

he was content, he realized. he could have no one in the world at this school, except maybe taylor, who might or might not drop him like a dime if he got accepted into the frat. so long as he could have fires that didn't smell like charred bodies and burning hair, and walk around a campus full of hundreds of people and not have to worry if any of them were something else beneath their skin.

his eyes flick up from watching the flames at the sight of legs approaching the tray. legs in form fitting jeans, legs that plant themselves there like their own piece of furniture. and when he trails up the length of the body a few feet in front of him, he realizes it's you. the girl who held his eyes back in the residency building, with more challenge in your gaze than there was schoolgirl giddiness, like your friends.

you're watching him too. but you don't look away when he meets your eyes, like you didn't then, earlier.

his head jerks to the side, a little quirk of a smile on his lips. a dare. you seemed like the type of girl who liked dares — and again, he was proven right, when you steal two marshmallows from the tray and walk over to him.

"kind of silly to come to a party and sit by yourself," you say, holding out one of the marshmallows to him.

dean takes it, weighing his options for a response in his buzzed mind. "kind of silly to walk up to the weird loner guy sitting by himself at a party."

you grab one of the sticks propped up on various chairs, impaling your marshmallow with it with a hum. "maybe." you lift your shoulders, stick tight in your grip as you hold the marshmallow over the flame. "but i thought the whole point of college was to be silly and exploratory."

dean lifts his chin in a mock thoughtful expression. "really? i thought it was about, i dunno, education, or something like that."

"what's ed-u-ca-tion?" you ask, sounding out each syllable of the word, your face twisting up into a pout that was too pretty for him to think rationally at the sight of. "never heard of it."

he laughs, though, because he just can't seem to help himself. you're cute, and that's dangerous. he was on scholarship, the educational equivalent of big brother over his shoulder, making sure he stayed in line.

“actually,” you continue, fidgeting with the stick in your fingers, “i probably know it a lot better than you do.”

dean’s lip quirk a little more, as he reaches to his left to grab another one of the sticks himself. “fine, i’ll bite. why’s that, sugar?” 

“ugh. sugar. that’s such a douchey nickname.” your pout only deepens, and it’s even more of a sight. puckered frowning lips, pinched eyebrows. he’ll be a goner by the time the night’s over, if you kept it up. “but to answer your question, i’m cheering this year, trying to rush sororities, and here for nursing, so…” 

dean pokes his stick through his own marshmallow, holding it over the fire with one hand. his other reaches into his coat pocket for the pack of cigarettes he kept on him, humming in slight impress. good distraction, he’d once called his cigarette habit. vice of all vices, he said now.

 “alright, well, give me a few minutes to pick a new name for you, yeah?” 

you pluck the marshmallow off of your stick, setting it aside with the hot side up, holding the golden stickiness between your fingertips. “well, so will i, then,” you say defiantly, biting into the charred marshmallow with a crunch. 

dean’s definitely a goner. 

his eyes rake over you, not completely in a flirtatious way, but he had to admit, that you were gorgeous. you’re wearing dark denim jeans, a pair of black boots, and the brightest red cableknit sweater he’d ever seen. 

“cherry,” he says softly, almost wistfully, as his eyes find yours again. 

you seem taken aback for a second, lips parting and closing a couple of times. it might be the golden light crackling from the fire, but your cheeks almost look more pink, too. deep pink, like the inside of a cherry. cherry was a good pick. 

“well, what’s your name?” you shoot back at him, nodding in his direction.

he knows how to cook things over a fire. has burned enough bodies and the evidence of his being there to know. the marshmallow on his stick is charred golden, and he brings it close to light the cigarette in his free hand before he blows the flame on the marshmallow out. 

then, he turns the cooking end of the stick to you in a wordless offering. “dean.” his eyebrows bounce at the same time as his lips tilt in a warm, amused smile. "no frat affiliation, no interest in nursing," he continues with a dramatic sigh, teasing your earlier tirade, "i am on the football team, though. number 67."

"okay," you meet his eyes with that same gleam that was destined to get him into trouble, "i'll call you number 67, then."

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[vivaciousoceans]

There was a line where Carisi said a priest saved his life. based on the Bobby Bianci story he was bullied but we don’t know if the plate glass was all that happened to him? Could something happened with another kid or at camp for example? most of the others characters on SVU had a bad parent, but I appreciate that Carisi did not so I would not want that to change.

I also would not like that to change!!! I love that Carisi has such a great foundation because it shows in his character. Like he doesn’t struggle with same intimacy and dependency issues Olivia and Amanda do. Which I love.

This was my thought immediately when I read the theory that Carisi could possibly be a csa survivor, that something else happened during that situation or another situation. And maybe he doesn’t even remember it! But with the trauma of being held hostage, what he witnessed, as well as being a father now??? It could all come back up. Oh I’d love to see that storyline I can’t lie. I’ve been a little sick of how Carisi’s fatherhood has almost been made into a caricature, but if they’re hitting at a deeper storyline? I could see it.

[lover-girl-estxx]

Not my gif

Season 4 episode 10 spoilers (haven't finished this season)

this is Angst Angst Angst

| 3rd Person POV |

Y/n didn't even know what day it was, she been in her and jjs bed- well I guess just her bed now. Since they got back from Morocco, her mind couldn't wrap around the fact that her boyfriend since freshman year was gone. I mean he has to come back right? She thought everyone came back, Big John, ward, John b and Sarah they all came back.

She laid there for days just thinking about everything, thinking that when JJ looked to her on that island and asked "you wanna just stay here and never leave? Surf all day, catch fish, hook up whenever sounds good to me" with a big smile across his face she brushed him off but now she'd take it all back and say "yeah Jay let's stay here forever".

"she's been in there for 4 days we have to do something" John B said "what can we do?" Kie said "something" Sarah added "I'll make her food okay?" Pope said standing up. "Hey Y/n" he said softly peeking his head in the door, She wrapped up in JJs hoodie zoning out but reruns of they're favorite shows played. She slightly looked over at him "I brought you some food" he set it on her nightstand "you need anything else?" He added she shook her head, his hand went over the handle "thanks Pope" she whispered "yeah".

It turned dark out and it dead silent in the house now, she put her shoes on and grabbed her backpack. And slipped out the window of the room. She finally got to the liquor store "two 5th of you cheapest vodka please" she said and put a leader of Coke "ID" the woman asked Y/n pulled out her fake ID and handed it to her.

Now that was her thing crying and drinking the thought of him away. The times she would get up it would be to look at something else of jjs. This time she looked out her window, John B stood in front of a tree out front JJ Maybank craved into it she took her bottle and went outside. "hey y/n" she stood next to him "hey.." he looked down to see that bottle in her hand and the smell coming off her breath "how many have you gone through?" she shrugged he took the bottle from her softly "you shouldn't be doing that its a waste" "it makes me feel okay" "does it make you forget he's dead?" her eyes opened "no but I think I should punish myself a little for leaving him there alone" "JJ would understand why we left him okay? he wouldn't want you to punish yourself you gotta stop" he wrapped his arm around her "yeah I know I just- I don't know".

Y/n thought instead of dying for herself she was gonna live for JJ. The next day they took notice that Y/n was moving around cleaning her room, they went in not saying anything just helping her. they'd find things of JJs and set it aside slowly building a corner of all his stuff for her to look at through the day.

Y/n found herself every morning on the water surf for him, swimming for him and boating for him.

| 6 Years Later |

"this was your Uncle JJs board when he was you age" Y/n said pulling the board of of the surf shed her God son standing next to her "I don't know if I can use it, it's a lot bigger than mine" "you'll do great! grab the towels bubba" he hopped in the truck while Y/n loaded they're boards.

Y/n was sat straight on her board he was laying on his board "okay Jay this one coming is yours" she helped turn his board around, he went and stood up "YES JJ!" she yelled and clapped. she rode in "good job!" she smiled and gave him a high five "thanks" he smiled back.

"Uncle JJ surf like all the time?" he asked strawberries covered his face "yeah even one time him and your dad went surfing in a hurricane it was dumb but they loved it" "sounds fun" "no JJ never do that" "I think I like the beach as much as Uncle J" she smiled and felt tears raise in her eyes "I think you do to" she ruffled his hair making him giggle.

[starlingflight]

Ginniversary Drabble 4

Prompt: O65 - you dont think that was just lemonade in your glass do you?

AO3 or read below:

The volume in the great hall had reached a clamorous level; the buzzing din and the blood pounding in Ginny's ears, mingled until she was sure the noise was going to drown her.

She tried to catch her breath; her Quidditch robes were suddenly too tight, making her efforts pointless. The sea of students surrounding her was nothing more than a blurred, faceless mass.

A touch on her hand, so light she shouldn't have been able to feel at all, brought her surroundings sharply into focus.

“You need to eat,” Harry said quietly.

Wordlessly, Ginny nodded. She kept her eyes on her plate in front of her, refusing to let them wander to the Ravenclaw table at the opposite side of Hufflepuff. The toast Harry had placed in front of her was swimming in butter. It felt dry as cardboard as it protested its journey down her throat.

She reached for her glass, swallowing a mouthful of sugary-sweet lemonade that did nothing to ease the dryness.

“There's no need to be nervous,” Harry said, using the same quiet tone that Hermione was directing at Ron across the table. Words that were only meant for one person. “If you lose, everyone will blame me… Everyone should blame me.”

His words sparked a fire within her that had been dangerously close to dwindling out a moment before. Ginny looked up sharply from her crumb-covered plate. “We're not going to lose!”

“Right,” Harry agreed at once, one corner of his mouth twitching, threatening a smile as his eyes met Ginny's. “So there's nothing to worry about, is there?”

She felt one side of her own mouth tick up. “Who said I was worried?”

Harry's smile bloomed fully, and the sight did more to ease her nerves than any encouraging words would ever be able to. His smiles had been frustratingly infrequent since the incident with Malfoy; every one that Ginny had managed to coax out of him felt like a victory all of its own. She suspected this one was for her benefit.

“The only thing you should be worried about is how you’re going to deal with your horde of admirers once you win the cup for Gryffindor.”

Ginny's laughter escaped her without her permission, as did the words she spoke next, “and will you be among them?”

Harry took a bite of his crumpet in a very obvious attempt to delay answering. His eyes flicked across the table to Ron, who was too busy listening to whatever soft words of encouragement Hermione was whispering to him to pay attention to what Ginny and Harry were doing.

He swallowed the crumpet. “I'll be the Head of the Ginny Weasley Fan Club.”

It was probably indecent to smile as widely as she currently was in the face of the biggest match of her life.

“Well,” she said, now breathless for entirely different reasons. “Given that my win is a foregone conclusion, I hope you're ready to take the responsibilities that come with your new position very seriously.”

Harry shrugged nonchalantly, but his gaze was steady, unwavering where it met Ginny's. “The season will be over; I'll have plenty of spare time to dedicate to it.”

“You don't have to convince me.” She laughed again, despite the way her stomach was twisting itself into knots. “The job is yours, if you want it.”

Their eyes remained fixed on one another. If the students around them had been faceless to her before, it was like there was no one there at all anymore; like they were the only two people left in the world.

“I'm just letting you know,” Harry said quietly, no longer smiling. “In case anyone else was interested in the position.”

Ginny's voice dropped to barely a whisper. “No one else is being considered.”

A beat of silence stretched on for what could have been eternity for all she knew. Harry didn't look away. She wasn't sure she would be capable of doing so even if she'd wanted to. Whatever this thing was that had been building between them was teetering dangerously close to a precipice and she was about to fall–

“Ginny!”

Dean's voice broke the spell that had fallen over them with jarring abruptness. Harry blinked, and then his attention turned to the half-eaten crumpet on his plate.

Resisting the urge to scream in frustration, Ginny turned in the direction her name had been called from.

“Are you ready to go down?” Dean asked.

Ginny didn't need to turn back to Harry to know he'd tensed beside her.

“You go ahead,” Ginny said smoothly. “I’ve still got some toast left.”

“You can eat on the way,” Harry said quickly. “You should probably take the others down before they get too deep in their own heads.”

She hesitated, wanting to protest the suggestion of leaving Harry up here, alone, while the rest of them went down to the pitch, yet knowing his logic was sound. Ginny's eye met Katie's further down the table, a short nod was enough to instruct her to gather the rest of the team and begin ushering them out of the hall.

Hermione's hand wrapped gently around Ron's forearm, guiding him from the table. Harry stood, and Ginny followed him, wishing she could recapture the moment they’d been so forcefully removed from.

“You've successfully boosted my confidence,” she said as they made their way towards the door. “Consider your Captain duties fulfilled.”

“That wasn't me,” Harry said with a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes. “You don't think that was just lemonade in your glass, do you?”

“That little trick won't work twice,” Ginny assured him, unable to summon her own smile now their moment of separation was here.

It didn't matter, she promised herself, forcing a grin despite her mouth's reluctance, the match – and Harry's detention – would be over soon, and once she had the cup, everything would fall into place.

[hoshologies]

11:32 pm, bang c.

genres &&. warnings — angst, hurt/no comfort &&. crying, heartbreak, mutual pining but forbidden love, are you asking too much of chan?

word count — 1.3k

note — inspired specifically by that one line in seasons by wave to earth "i can't be your life because i'm afraid i'll ruin your life."

it feels like your bones rattle with every step you take, rushing down this stairwell faster than you ever have before. the last time you descended this particular staircase, it had been with a smile on your face and a fluttering in your heart, hope for a future that you thought was about to be within reach. you’d never been more wrong in your life.

“c’mon, can you just stop and come back upstairs? please.” chan’s voice echoes above you, his footsteps drawing closer and pushing you faster down the stairs.

your attitude towards that man has taken a complete one-eighty over the last ten minutes, drastically different than it had been when you’d shown up for what you’d begun calling your weekly date night: takeout and movies in his bed. stupid for so many things, so many reasons. you have to get out of here; there’s no fire in the building, but your chest burns like you’re breathing in hot smoke.

it’s a relief when your feet finally hit the bottom floor and you step out into the cool night air of seoul. the breath you heave trembles with tears, but it’s still so welcome, chilling the ache in your lungs. glad to be out of that damned suffocating building, you take two steps in the direction of the subway when the boy you can’t get away from fast enough bursts out onto the sidewalk behind you.

“wait!” chan is breathless, you can hear it in his voice; you don’t need to turn around to know that his chest is heaving, one of his hands resting over his belly button because it’s a scene you’ve been witnessed to many a time after he’s chased you around his apartment, laughing rather than crying. “can we please talk about this?”

any sadness you felt three seconds ago is scorched away, a fiery anger taking its place. talk? he wants to talk about this? he was doing plenty of that five minutes ago, shooting you down like it was nothing. no, now it’s your turn to talk.

you whip around on your heels, any semblance of calm dissipating. “talk? okay, sure. i’ll talk. fuck you, chris.” as far as you’re concerned, he’s lost all privileges to the sweet names you’ve been calling him for months. “you don’t wanna tell anybody about us? that’s fine. i get it. you don’t wanna go on dates in public? okay. i understand how important your image is to your job. i don’t complain, i’ve never complained. i come here at late hours to see you, even when i’m practically dead on my feet or have to be up early the next morning because seeing you is always the best part of my day.”

“i know–”

you shake your head, letting out a sarcastic huff of amusement. “i’m not done. so we have these nights, right? and we do all of these things together and you treat me so well. things are great and i feel comfortable and… fuck, how is someone not supposed to fall in love with you, huh? after all of the stuff we’ve done, how was i supposed to not catch feelings?”

you’re not done with your diatribe, but you need a second to catch your breath a second time. chan stands there, arms limp at his sides as he stares at you. his eyes are wide and sad and there is sadness and regret written all over his face, but no amount of puppy dog eyes is going to fix this situation the way they’ve fixed far more minor situations.

“i was nervous the whole fucking day, chris. i wanted tonight to be the night that i told you how i felt and after all the time we’ve spent together, the number of mornings i’ve woken up in your bed, i really thought you’d reciprocate–”

“i do!” he exclaims, completely exasperated; the frustration in his voice immediately sours the last few shreds of fond feelings. “i do feel the same. i told you that inside!”

you throw your hands into the air in irritation before you bring them back down to cover your face and turn on your heels away from the boy in front of you. this whole situation is fucking ridiculous and you find yourself wishing that you’d never gotten involved with him in the first place, something bitter and so far from the truth; meeting chan was the best thing that’s ever happened and you’ve never regretted a single thing you’ve done with him. but this is all too much.

“yeah, but you immediately followed it up with ‘but i can’t be with you,’” you reply, tears pooling at your waterline against your wishes. the last thing you want to do is cry in front of him… again.

you hear him take a step forward, his sneakers scuffing against the concrete. “because i can’t be with you the way you want me to be. i can’t give you what you need.”

one tear falls, a second follows, and then they just won’t stop. that dam has finally broken. you turn to face him again; you’ve cried in front of him once tonight, so it doesn’t really matter anymore. he’s seen you at your absolute worst anyways.

“who the fuck are you to decide that?” you question, voice trembling. your eyes are no doubt pleading. you’ve never begged him for anything ever, but you’re coming dangerously close to that territory now. “i’ve been content so far, haven’t i?”

“but that can always change,” he reasons, closing the gap between you entirely. you want him close, but at the same time, you want to push him away. he’s the last person you want to see right now yet also the only person you want to tell about all of this because he’s been everything to you; nobody understands you the way he does, knows you as intimately as him.

“oh my god. it’s been months, chan. if i wasn’t in this for the long run, i would have left already. i would have told you. the fact that i’m still standing here trying to reason it out with you should be proof enough that i don’t fucking care about what you think you can and can’t do for me because we’ve worked so many other things out before. why isn’t that enough?”

he goes silent and your personal corner of seoul goes silent with him. there’s nobody else out, but it feels like the entire world is watching this fold out, some ridiculous forbidden love that never even stood a chance because why would it have? you’re not part of his world, you never have been. you were stupid for thinking that somehow, he’d let you come along for the ride.

when he doesn’t answer, you laugh mirthlessly, more a scoff than anything. you take a step backwards and he goes to follow, but you shake your head.

“there. we did it. we talked. and you still don’t want to try and figure this out, even though you want this just as much as i do. so i think we’re done here.”

you turn on your heels again, ready to take the thirty minute walk to your apartment because you can’t bear to be around anyone else right now. chan calls for you to wait again, but you shake your head, pushing back tears.

“i’m done waiting, chris. i’ve been doing it for weeks, so now it’s your turn. figure out just how much you’ll fight for this if you want me as much as you say you do.”

leaving chan has always been a hard thing to do, but never has hard as this. you want to turn around and hug him tight, but you force yourself forward down the sidewalk. he has always been a fighter, so you want to believe he’ll fight for you, to have you. he’s never let you down before.

© hoshologies 2023. do not translate, copy, or repost my work.

[bullet-prooflove]

StolenMoments!Series Part Two: Christmas in Afganistan - Vostanik Sabatino x Reader

Tagging:  @kmc1989 @novamariestark @words-and-seeds

Part One: First Date

You end up in Afghanistan over Christmas.

You’ve been embedded in the country for over a week now, using your contacts to track down a terrorist cell with ties to an attack back in LA. In the past you’d worked with humanitarian groups, delivering a very specific form of aid to villages in the region. You’d built a lot of trust amongst the natives; it gave you access to information that the military personnel you worked with couldn’t get their hands on.

You’ve been living in a makeshift base, created especially for the task force that you’re a part of. On the outside it looks rundown and ramshackle however inside it’s the equivalent of huge modern-day motorhome, with up-to-date tech, hot running water and internet speeds that rivalled the ones back home.

The place had been haphazardly decorated for the Christmas season before you got here, there’s tinsel around the whiteboards, fake candy canes hanging on the equipment lockers and a makeshift tree has been put together in the corner by a would-be carpenter. Someone’s managed to dig out some multicoloured lights, wrapping them around it. It’s magical in its own way.

You’re the only one staying over the holidays, Granger has sent the other members of the taskforce to Istanbul for some R&R. You’re the last one in, so you get to man the fort in their absence. You’ve been on your own for a couple of hours, reviewing the latest intel and making notes when the door opens and Sabatino steps inside.

You haven’t heard from him since the night he left for Washington. He looks a little more rugged than the last time you saw him. His jaw is lined with stubble, his face more weathered. His clothes are filthy, the remnants of the Afghan desert clinging to his hair and skin. The expression on handsome features tells you he’s just as surprised to see you as you are to see him.

“I need a shower.” Is the first thing he says to you. You smile as you take a sip from your coffee cup because you detected just the hint of a blush across his cheeks when he stepped past you.

You have more coffee brewing when he steps out of the bathroom. He’s wearing a t-shirt and combat pants, his hair still damp from the hot water. He tosses his dirty clothes into the laundry hamper in his bunk room before he follows you into the kitchen space, opening the fridge and pulling out a variation of food.

“I’ve been living off the land for the past three weeks, tracking our targets through the mountains.” He explains as he opens a container and pops some veggies into his mouth. “If I have to eat another rodent, I think I’ll become one.”

You push the mug of hot coffee towards him, and he picks it up gratefully, his dark eyes fastening on yours as he takes a sip.

“When they said they were bringing in someone with local connections I had no idea it was you.”

There’s something in the way he says it, an undertone in his voice. You read the tension in his body, the way his shoulders hunch just a little as he averts his gaze focusing on the containers.

“You don’t want me here.” You realise.

He sighs before he places both his palms on the work surface and tilts his head up to look at you. There’s a torridness in his eyes, it builds like a storm before he finally allows himself to speak.

“The last guy who had your job, I found his body.” He pauses for a second, allowing you to process that information before he continues. “What I didn’t find was his head.”

 “He was tortured.” You conclude and Sabatino nods his response.

“I don’t want that to happen to someone that I…” He catches himself before the words can slip out of his mouth. “I don’t want the same thing happening to you.”

It’s an admission of something that the two of you can’t talk about. Realistically he’s known you for a total of seventy-two hours but in his heart, it feels like a lifetime. If something were to happen to you, if he found you brutalised the same way that Sanders was, he doesn’t think that he would be able to recover.

“Are the risks any different than you going out there and tracking them over the mountains?” You ask him pointedly.

He hates this and so do you, you’ve worked with each other in an urban setting before, where you have resources and back up, but Afghanistan is a different playing field. The thing is you’ve both been here before, you know the pitfalls, the dangers, the consequences. You’ve survived Afghanistan before and so has he.

“It looks like we’re both in the same predicament.” You say when he doesn’t respond, setting your coffee mug down. “Because I actually give a shit about you too.”

It shouldn’t warm his heart but it kind of does. He sees the honesty of it in your eyes as you look up at him. He lives in a world of deceit, where everything has a double meaning, where every move is a manipulation and then there’s you. This beautiful, spirited woman who says what’s on her mind and means it. He can’t help but fall in love with you just a little more in that moment.

“Hey.” He says quietly as he reaches for you. He wraps his arms around your body, drawing you close. You fit against him perfectly, the same way you did the last time, when he kissed you during that stakeout. “Despite the circumstances I am happy to see you.”

Your palms chase up the muscles of his back, soothing over the fabric of his shirt as his lips brush over your hairline. Christ he’s missed you, he’s forgotten how good it feels to have your hands on him.

“I’m glad to see you too Nik.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[juststoriesintheend]

at this point in my life - part i

Pairing: Mae Aniseya x sapphic gn!Reader

Content: inspired by Tracy Chapman's song of the same name; modern au, folk singer au, reunited exes, angst with a happy ending, Qimir is implied to be an abusive/toxic partner

Word Count: 1.9k

《 [series masterlist] 》 《 ii 》

at this point in my life, i've done so many things wrong i don't know if i can do right

if you put your trust in me, hope i won't let you down if you give me a chance, i'll try

It’s bittersweet to be on this stage again. For the last time, says the little voice at the back of her head. The shame that accompanies it is bitter enough that she can hardly swallow it. But she tries. She has to. She can’t sing and be choking on bile at the same time.

Mae looks out at the dwindling crowd and she’s not sure how to feel about what she sees. It’s the last night of the performance season, so bar-goers are tired and eager to relax on their Saturday nights, which means they’re not showing up. She supposes that means there’s less people to be nervous about, less hope to build up in her chest. If anything, it’s a sign - someone’s trying to tell her, and has been for years now, to quit the dream while she’s ahead.

The voice sounds a bit too much like Oshie’s dad for her liking, so she chases it away with a shot of something bitter and wipes the back of her hand over her eyes. Bittersweet? Yeah. But sad? Hell no. This is her grand finale. She’s going out with a bang, and damn every asshole who ever told her she couldn’t do it, even if they were right.

So it really fucking sucks when she’s halfway through her set, feeling more on top of the world than she ever has before, and she looks up just in time to catch a glimpse of you. Your smile flashes in the strobe lights, and the chain at your throat gleams when you move. Mae almost misses her next line, but she manages to save it at the very last moment. You’re not here with Oshie - a relief - and that means you’re not here with Qimir either - thank god.

You have new friends, it looks like: a button-nosed girl, her hair streaked with neon green, and an awkward-looking pretty boy whose locs are short enough to stick out awkwardly over the side of his head. At least your taste has improved.

Mae swallows her nerves and drops her head a bit, letting her gaze wander over the neck of her guitar. She focuses better when she can’t see your eyes. It’s always been that way, and she hates that some things stay the same even now. Still, she pulls through. She finishes the set and she doesn’t cry, she doesn’t lose her voice or forget her words, and she doesn’t totally bomb like she has every single night before this one.

It’s just enough, but it’s far too late to make a difference. Like everything else in her life.

A heartfelt thank you and an awkward bow are all she leaves in her wake, though she’s not entirely sure she didn’t leave her heart on that stage. Or with you. Either way, there’s nothing left in the gaping wound Mae calls a chest cavity once she’s stuffed into the wings and packing her guitar into its case. There’s only the thunder of adrenaline in her ears and the nauseating turn of her stomach when she breathes.

“Hey, man, great job! You fucking killed it out there!”

It’s one of the techies, an annoyingly sweet gay guy who is so cheerful that Mae’s considered whacking him in the esophagus at least ten times by now. He claps his hand on her shoulder a little too hard, but she smells the vodka off him before she can even raise her hand. Idiot.

Through gritted teeth, she acquiesces with a very polite, “Thank you.”

“Knew you’d bring the house down eventually.”

Oh, ‘cause that makes her feel so much better. “Yep. Thanks.” And she hopes that the aggressive flicking of the clasps on her guitar case will be enough of a sign for him to back off.

God, she needs a drink. Preferably something with vodka or gin so she can forget about everything hammering away inside her head and just black out.

You meet her at the bar. Or rather, you’re already waiting for her by the time she drags her sorry ass out and orders an obscenely titled drink that’s bound to taste like lighter fluid. Your fingernails tap lightly on the glass in your hands, your eyes flickering and sparkling all over like little fireworks. Mae thinks you look pretty when the lights switch from white to hazy pinks and blues.

“Hey.”

She nods once, but she doesn’t allow herself to look above the line of your shoulders. “Hey.”

“You sounded good. I liked your set.”

Of course you do. She wrote half those songs about you. “Didn’t think I’d see you here,” Mae grumbles as she tips back another shot.

And even if she was looking at you, Mae wouldn’t need to in order to know you’re frowning. She hears it in your voice when you very pointedly reply, “I promised, didn’t I?”

You did indeed. But people say all kinds of things when they think they’re in love, and they don’t usually follow through on such promises when the romance fizzles out. Never in a million years would she have held you to an oath you made an entire lifetime ago. She’s not that kind of woman.

Rather than say any of this, though, Mae decides to throw caution to the wind and allow her curiosity to guide her. She turns and leans until both her elbows are resting on the bar. She hopes she looks effortless and cool, but with her luck it’s probably achieved the exact opposite effect.

“What’s with the clique? My sister and her boyfriend not interesting enough for you, or did you finally get tired of them fucking the personality out each other and decide to try something new?”

It’s a low blow. It’s cruel. But when has she ever been anything other than that? The jab certainly hits, judging by the furrowing of your brows and the swirling mess of pain in your irises, and Mae can’t help feeling proud of herself for it.

You take another sip of your drink that outlasts the ticking of irritation in the vein above your eyebrow. “Jecki and Yord. We met at pride last month. You’d like them.” A pause as you consider your words. And then the other shoe drops. “If you weren’t so busy being a dick, at least.”

The liquor in her stomach damn near curdles. “So that’s why you came?” she asks as she forces herself into your personal space, lips curling and her heart threatening to beat right out of her chest. “Wanted to rub some salt in the wound, huh, babe?”

“I wanted to see your last performance. I wanted to support you,” you snap.

Instead of backing down, you’ve stood your ground. You’re not impressed by her petty attempts at intimidation, which leaves Mae feeling lost in the cavernous space between her rage and her desire. Six months out and you still know exactly how to push all her buttons.

“Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you went chasing after Osha like a lovesick puppy.”

The stool you’re sitting on shrieks across the floor when you stand, your face suddenly filling the entirety of Mae’s vision. “I wasn’t aware I had to choose between my best friend and my girlfriend.”

“Yeah,” she snorts, “well, you chose wrong anyway.”

“Maybe if you’d just talked to me like a normal person, I would’ve made a better choice. But you never did know how to fucking communicate.”

She hates you. She hates you because you’re right, and she hates herself because she knows it. And she hates Qimir for stealing her sister, and she hates Osha for leaving, and she hates Sol for loving everyone except her. And most importantly, she hates that she ever loved you in the first place because it killed her to watch you leave, just like it kills her to look you in the eyes now and see what she might’ve had if she’d been a little wiser and a little braver. But she’s never been either of those things. Love is just a game that cowards like her can never win.

“You’re such a fucking idiot sometimes.”

Mae smiles until it feels like her face breaks. “I’ll add it to the list of fuck-ups and grievances.”

The bar’s starting to get fuzzy. Not literally, of course, but wouldn’t that be funny? The walls are growing distant and all the people have started to lose their individuality, slowly morphing into a vague conglomerate of limbs and booze. The vodka’s kicking in. Fucking finally.

Maybe that’s why it scares her so much when you grab her by the hand. She feels your skin on hers and she jolts like she’s been electrocuted.

“Mae,” and your voice is soft again, no longer highlighted with red pen like a failed report card. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t know.”

“Clearly.”

“Mae. Please” You look at her like you do in her dreams, all pleading eyes and backlit by grief.

“Whaddyu want me to say?” she slurs when a surprisingly strong wave of intoxication almost bowls her over. “You chose Oshie. And Qimir. And you should’ve chosen me.”

It’s startling how serious you look when you nod in agreement. “I know. I was wrong.”

The bar glitches in and out of existence for a couple seconds, and for a moment, Mae thinks she’s back in that shitty apartment, sprawled out on the mattress with you, choking on her secrets because you deserve someone better than her. She’d take you down into the rubble and the gore, not because she wants to share it with you but because she’s never known anything else. So she let the prophecy fulfill itself, and she chose perfect misery over imperfect love.

“I didn’t want to come here to upset you.”

Mae blinks and she’s back in the present, looking into your eyes and regretting everything.

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I thought I was being a good friend. I didn’t know the kind of guy Qimir was.”

Not many people do. He’s good at the two-faced persona, good enough to brainwash her sister and take you with them like some fucking prized pony, and all for what? Because she turned him down? Because she said she wasn’t interested?

“I wish you’d told me, Mae, but I understand why you didn’t.”

She wishes that, too. But if there’s a common theme in Mae’s life, it’s regret and poor timing. She never seems to do anything in the right order, or anything right at all.

She smiles, and this time she cries. “Yeah, well. You know how it is. I always fuck shit up.” Her throat feels raw and dry and drowning all at once. “Wish I hadn’t fucked you up along the way, but-”

“You didn’t.”

It’s sweet of you to lie, sweet enough that Mae feels her entire bottom lip quiver.

Your palm finds the curve of her forearm, then her elbow, gentle but strong the same way that you are deep in your heart, and Mae feels lost and found and dizzy from it. She finds herself looking in your eyes despite her better judgment, exposing herself like a raw nerve under your surgical knife, but you’ve always been good to her, you’ve never cut her like the rest of the world has. And she misses you. Even if she hates you. Even if she hates herself.

“I’m sorry,” you say, solemn as a prayer, as you draw her into your embrace. She goes willingly. “For everything. I know you can’t forgive me, but I just… I wanted you to know.”

Oh, she knows. She’s always known.

taglist: @wolffegirlsunite @thatlittlered @padawancat97

[seriouslycromulent]

My rewatch of The John Larroquette Show (so far)

In my effort to keep my Larroquette obsession thriving, I've recently started a rewatch of The John Larroquette Show. Like Night Court (which I rewatched in 2022), I remember watching this show when it originally aired.

But unlike Night Court, my memory of most of the episodes is a bit fuzzy. I remember the main characters and their personalities just fine, but not so much what happens in terms of the storyline.

Regardless, I'm enjoying the rewatch, and I'm pleasantly surprised by how much the show holds up over time, how evergreen the topics are, and how strong the jokes are. Seriously. They are constantly telling jokes that I swear are as old as vaudeville, but they kill in terms of laughs from the audience and from me as well.

Example: In s2e8 "The Book of Rachel," Mayim Bialik guest stars as a young hippie-ish woman named Rachel who shows up in hopes of finding out if John Hemingway (JL's character) is her real dad. She's narrowed down the search to 3 men who knew her mom, who was living wild and free back in the '70s, around that time.

When John asks how her mother's doing, Rachel says, "She's doing pretty good. She's been clean for about 5 years now." John, a recovering alcoholic who's been sober for 1 year, says, "That's great! So no more drugs and booze, huh?" And Rachel says, "Oh no, there's still plenty of drugs and booze. She's just been bathing regularly for 5 years."

I'm not telling it very well in writing, but I swear to you, that joke is funny as hell, and Mayim and JL's delivery is perfection. Plus, it got a huge laugh from the audience, which speaks to its timeless nature.

Anyway, I just wanted to share a thought or two on the show so far. (I'm on episode 12 of Season 2, just in case anyone wants to know the context.)

Here are some random thoughts I've had so far:

Like Night Court, the show does a solid job of mixing comedy and drama. The first season is a bit more drama heavy because they dealt more with the recovery storyline, but I think it still worked and the whole concept is still pretty daring (i.e., revolving around the unglamorous lives of people who work in and around a bus station at night) even compared to today's sitcoms, which still tend to play it safe.

JL's hair in the first season is absurdly long. Or at least it gets to be absurdly long about halfway through the season. And it's not a good look. Not because he looks bad with long hair, but because it looks like it takes a lot of upkeep. And a man who is working 3rd shift at a bus station and lives in a halfway house/SRO building doesn't seem like he'd have a strict hair care regimen to make it appear perfectly tamed at all time. Seriously, at one point I had to ask out loud, "I wonder if they curl the ends with a curling iron or do they use rollers?"

This may be the first TV show I ever saw Chi McBride in. Despite seeing him on plenty of TV shows and films over the years, I never knew he had such a lovely singing voice. I'm glad they gave him a chance to share his singing talent. His version of "Danny Boy" in season 1 was very good.

The 2 corrupt police officers who blatantly flaunt their bias and awfulness are both funny and a great commentary on what was happening in America at the time (i.e., the Rodney King police beating, and the aftermath of the verdict was still very fresh in everyone's minds then). Sadly, it is an evergreen topic for the U.S., but I think it says a lot about the writers for TJLS that they attacked the subject so openly and didn't shy away of being critical of police or lampooning them. I don't think a modern American sitcom would approach the subject so brazenly and unapologetically today. JL has said in a number of interviews that the show was kind of ahead of its time. And I'm inclined to agree with him, at least in some areas.

It's so cool going back to watch old TV shows and catching actors who have now become bigger names in the business. I just watched an episode with Jane Lynch working as a mental health care professional. Of course, this was way before she found success on Glee and The 40-Year-Old Virgin.

Does JL manage to work in a reference to Samuel Beckett into everything he works on starting with this series? It's starting to function as his own career Easter egg at this point. I'm not complaining. Just wondering.

I know Don Reo created the show, but I suspect JL had a small amount of his life's adventures and details shape the John Hemingway character (like the Beckett references, his running commentary on anything that happened in the 1960s, his openness about being friends with anyone from any background, etc.). But the only way to truly know this is for JL to 1) tell us in Q&As or interviews, or 2) write an autobiography already, dammit!

In s2e1 "Changes," JL sits down in a chair by swinging his leg over the back of it, and I immediately thought of the Riker Maneuver. I know JL did it before Jonathan Frakes on TNG, but it will always be the Riker Maneuver to me.

Another way the show was ahead of its time was in its portrayal of sex workers and trans people. Most of the time, it's played for comedy on the show (I mean, it is a sitcom after all), but there's a very real attempt to share stories of Carly, Teddi and Pat that are humanizing. Teddi and Pat are trans sex workers, but they are accepted by most (not the male cop) and aren't just the butt of jokes. They even get included in simple things like group poker games and asked to watch the lunch counter when Dexter runs off to do something or other. That might seem like not a big deal, but at that time (the mid-90s), most inclusion of hookers and trans folks on TV usually involved heavy drama like trying to save them from their lives or begrudgingly acknowledging that they were a part of society with disdain and ridicule. And the overall acceptance of Carly as a friend and possible love interest without trying to save her or judge her was also a bit ahead of its time. And when there were moments of judgment, they were faced head on and challenged.

[ncisfranchise-source]

The CBS fall 2024 season takes one of its most popular franchises back in time with NCIS: Origins. The NCIS prequel is set in 1991 and centers on a young Leroy Jethro Gibbs (Austin Stowell) earlier in his career as a special agent at the fledging (NIS) Naval Investigation Service’s Camp Pendleton, which eventually becomes the iconic NCIS division we know today.

Gibbs joins a ragtag team led by Mike Franks, with Kyle Schmid stepping into the role originated in the flagship series by Muse Watson. The weight of taking on this legend is not lost on Schmid. It’s arguably the biggest gig to date for the Canadian who got his start on Disney Channel in the early ’00s and whose recent resume includes starring on the History military series Six and recurring on Syfy’s Being Human and ABC’s Big Sky.

Despite being fatally stabbed in Season 8 of NCIS, Mike Franks would appear from time to time to guide mentee Gibbs (Mark Harmon) as an almost guardian angel. Here, Schmid, who is expecting his first child with his wife Caity Lotz, gives us an early tease of what’s to expect from the flashback spinoff.

What does it mean for you to be part of the legacy of this NCIS franchise? What kind of resource has Mark Harmon been for this new cast? 

Kyle Schmid: I think it’s a great opportunity to be part of something grandfathered into the industry as a standard for procedural television. It has been running for what’s going to be seasons. Mark Harmon did it and put his stamp on it and kind of led the way for everybody. It has been a really neat experience because he has lent his expertise and advice and help to all of us through emails and calls. Just time spent piquing his brain has been really important.

At a stage of your life where you’ve gotten married, having a kid and you get to shoot at Paramount in Los Angeles. I feel like I’ve won the lottery. I can’t wait to continue to work with the cast that was put together. I’m a legitimate fan of everybody they put together for this show. Incredible wife, job, house, and a baby on the way. My life has just become very complete, so I’m very lucky.

Have you had much communication with Muse? 

He and I have become friends. We talk every couple of weeks and catch up on life. Having his blessing to play a younger version of a character he developed has been very cool.

How would you describe where we’ll be introduced to Mike at this point in his life and career? 

He had been part of NCIS for a while. In 2001, when you meet him he is a little older, a little more jaded. He has seen a lot that I think he wished he could have had more control over. So, we’re seeing him at a point in his life where he has paved his own way and earned the respect of the agency. Now he has the opportunity to build a team that he sees as being some of the most promising agents in NCIS. We get to meet those people and see those people grow. He is still at a point where he gets to mentor Gibbs. I think we’ll get to see why Gibbs was who the world fell in love with in the original NCIS and how he came to be that way. And Mike Franks is a big part of that.

With the show taking us back to the 1990s, what kind of vibe do you see us getting? I’m looking forward to feeling that nostalgia. 

The music is what excites me. I was born in the early 1980s, so I like Pearl Jam and Nirvana. Those are still on my daily playlist. I failed to mature with music and am stuck in the 1990s. We have incredible music. I think it’s fun to play with the dynamics of the male-female relationship in the workplace. We get to live in a world where things are a little backward compared to today. I think it’s going to be really interesting how David [J. North] and Gina [Lucita Monreal], who are our showrunners and are phenomenal, decide to tackle that.

We get to see how Mike Franks gets to play a 40-year-old in an industry in 1991 that we in present-day America have forgotten, and have tried to change. I think that will be really interesting for the show. I did a show with Tom Fontana a few years ago. He is one of the best writers I’ve ever worked with. He said to me that there are no black-and-white characters. There are only gray characters. The people who are the bad guys don’t know they’re bad guys. They are just doing the best they know. I think 1991 in Los Angeles is a very poignant point in history with a lot that happened. We’re going to be able to explore all of that with phenomenal directing. I think with a younger and edgier cast, it will make for an edgier show in the process. This is super exciting because we have phenomenal actors who really get to dig into this stuff that I’m hoping will blow teh doors wide open.

You’re going into filming this show at a time when you’re becoming a dad. Just moved into a new house with Caity still working as well. How are you all preparing for all that? 

It’s a good question. Luckily, I have the best wife in the world. Caity’s mom is going to come to town. My dad’s coming to town. I love working. Working is something that gives me energy. I get to go to work, which I love, and then come home to a family I love. I’m absolutely burning the candle at both ends with this.

[akajustmerry]

I remember seeing somewhere you think of romangerri as a tragic mentor/apprentice dynamic and I really want to know more about that, if you feel like answering. mwah!

yeah well, you know...... that's why the whole "i could have got you there. But no" line is so devastating, right? because she could have if roman's attraction/obsession with her wasn't such an exploitative corrosion on their mentoring partnership. obviously, roman betrays the potential and trust gerri sees in him with those pics which i think for gerri was the final straw when it came to putting up with his sexual harassment. this is succession though and no betrayal is strictly one-way. i do think gerri was initially quite happy to use roman to serve her own interests and those of the company. using the sort of framework of mentoring him, she essentially deployed him to do these risky things like getting lawrence and matsson and eduard onside for wystar knowing if it didn't work logan would punish roman, but if it did they would all benefit. you can really see this in ep 1 of season 4 where without the kids around to send in as logan's punching bags, the old guard are kind of scrambling to stay out of his way. now obviously, i am not blaming gerri for roman's harassment (as someone whose been a victim of that, you'd catch me dead). i think it's more that she thought she could leverage his obsession with her as a way of gaining more soft power in the company through him, but ultimately she doesn't have the power in that relationship to do that. even if she can give him advice, make him do his homework, or get him off, etc roman both as a man and as the guy with his name on the building is the one with all the power. as we see he abuses that power to harass her. what makes it a tragedy is the admiration at the core of that relationship, the fact that these 2 somewhat overlooked people saw the potential in one another where most didn't was squandered, as all things are in succession, by abuse of power and influence. the care, the admiration even was there but it wasn't enough. because those things can't thrive in a place where only the opposite is valued. i don't see romangerri as a romance or whatever and not really sure why people do precisely because roman's "feelings" for gerri are what poisons their partnership. so to me its always a corrupted mentorship doomed from the beginning. if I've ever given impressions otherwise it's just because i am bisexual and kieran and j are hot as shit and they're both so fucking good at their jobs <3

[phyllistines]

Ted Lasso s1e3 Analysis

I recently rewatched the third episode of Ted Lasso’s first season, and I noticed a ton of stuff. I’m gonna preface this by saying I know that trent wasn’t written to come back, and it was in fact James Lance that inspired Jason to add Trent in more, but there are a lot of things that tie back to tedependent, things that show it was here from the beginning, and Jason could have easily decided to just build off of that. Ok, now into this weirdly complicated analysis about nothing at all.

The first season of the show, specifically the first three eps, is dedicated to introducing what’s important to ted. Of course every first season of every show ever is for introducing characters, but there is a clear effort in the first three episodes to showcase what will motivate ted and what will be important to him.

first ep: beard,(his friendship with him) and his job

second ep: rebecca, family, the team

third ep: team functioning properly, friendships, trent

immediately trent is established as something important to the show and to ted. the first big (one on one) interaction between them is literally a date. besides that, it’s the first time we see trent (sort of) drop his guard. the reason for this is the spicy food, it catches trent off guard, and distracts him enough to not only stop talking about journalism, but actively struggle to talk about work. it’s a forced type of opening up, and it’s barely anything at all, but it is still there. it’s almost foreshadowing, the way trent is forced to drop his journalist facade when around ted can point to how he later fully drops it on purpose. there are some other themes that loosely tie back to season three as well, specifically the next episode (ep 9 as of writing this). The main conflict between roy and ted in s1e3 is about ted refusing to stop jamie from picking on nate. the fighting is the main story w roy and ted in the episode, and it eventually leads to ted and trent bonding. trent even chimes in to a convo between roy and ted to add some clarification. the next episode could really lead to some classic tedtrent action, seeing as the main conflict is sure to be colin and isaac fighting, and trent is arguably more involved with them than he ever was with roy’s storyline. Another interesting little theme i noticed was the fact that ted connects with people through food. (very basic but bare with me) He brings rebecca biscuits everyday to get to know her better, (he calls trent a cookie at one point too) he gets sam food when he’s homesick, he and beard have a weekly sandwich swap tradition, and his friendship with keeley begins to develop when he innocently feeds her a sandwich. Almost every meaningful relationship in the show surrounds food, with Ted having the most out of anyone. (other food relationships include Sam naming his restaurant after Ola and cooking with him, nate meeting his gf at his favorite restaurant, and then ted’s whole experience at the american restaurant aka “home”) we also see the entire team connect over a big meal three times in separate seasons. trent is present for one of these, establishing him as a person worth connecting to, even if he’s not officially part of the team yet. The final little piece from s1e3 is something that trent says in his lil voiceover at the end of the episode. “His coaching style is subtle. It never hits you over the head. Slowly growing until you can no longer ignore its presence.” Sound familiar? It’s incredibly similar to his lil speech/rant he gives to Ted at the end of “The Strings that Bind Us”: “By slowly but surely building a club-wide culture of trust and support through thousands of imperceptible moments, all leading to their inevitable conclusion.” Trent’s presence in this show has been prevalent and it’s all been leading up to this final season.

[asterjennifer]

❗ Slight domestic violence scene

“Shit, shit shit shit shit…!”

She cursed under her breath when crossing over the familiar rooftop made out of what resembled pure marble. Her tiptoing sounds unnoticeable even to herself. She'd been lying if saying this new way of sneaking around didn't appealed to her the most when it came to this entire sinner form she'd taken after her downfall.

Jumping from one smug brick to another, landing gracefully onto the railing, onto one of the million endless balcony's of the castle. She's not fond climbing over its walls as she kept fearing that one day — someone would catch her right handed and then do whatever is worse imaginable inside her head. She might be an immortal being in hell now, but not immune to any pain.

That's what sinners had to deal with, the enteral punishment of experiencing pain repeatedly. And no way to stop it. Neither due to getting used to it, nor by the choice to kill yourself. No sinner could actually kill themselves unless they owned angelic weapons. And that chance was lower than the chance of the Happy Hotel succeed. Okay, maybe not that low. But still low.

She sneaked around a pipe attached to the edge of the second tower, lifting her head into the red sky. Day or night, lunch or dinner time, it didn't matter considering the red stayed the same shade throughout the year. Were there any signs for seasons at all? If so, she'd not seen them yet. At least familiar looking stars shone at random spots around the white planet that must've been heaven. Or at least she assumed so.

Shaking her head free, she jumped to the other pipe. It's not her intention to run late as it's not her style pushing the schedule around. However; how could she have said no when they practically begged her to help with the spontaneous side job they involved themselves in rather involuntarily. It's not really their fault and therefore she found no strength to brush their pleading off.

But now she risked the tragedy of getting spotted since she usually was long gone by this time of the night. Not in any sight, invisible to the world of royals that lived inside this castle. Despite only having seen a few faces before — she didn't want to test her luck either. It's better she stayed unaware of the actual number of residents inside the big place she used as shortcut.

Her bare paws landed silently on the floor of the balcony, another one she crossed every single time she's required to get to the other side of Pentagram City. Which was, if nothing messed up, every single work day. It was part of her everyday life after all. She sighed out after realizing it's still empty inside. What a lucky bitch, she thought to herself bewildered and in pity.

It's always a risk using this pathway. At least then she knew what hour was the best in order to avoid the rare chance of an encounter. That's something she inspected before even trying to use the castle as her own personal bridge, it's just so much easier and quicker walking and climbing this insanely big building than running around it. Making her ignore anxiety entirely.

───────────

“You're a fucking disgrace!!”

She yelled into his face with her shrill tone of voice. Filled to the brim with anger that caused his stomach to twist until it threatened to throw up the remaining content right in front of her feet. His pulse overpowered the shattering reality of these pathetic, whiny nosies coming out his beak.

“You have one job, Ray. One! And you can't even do this right, can you!?” She ignored his sad sounds.

He felt both legs shake. “I… I'm really sorry, Rika—”

Her hand shot into the air, shutting him up the same millisecond. He swallowed the bitter taste of both fear mixed with guilt once her brows twisted furious.

“Dare you call me by name at this moment. You're not allowed to.”

Her glaring green eyes drilled through his every single thought — making it impossible to think about his next words. How to present the apology burning on his tongue.

Her tone sharpened drastically. “I don't want to fucking hear it… Seriously. You're a Goetia Prince, for Satan's sake!”

These words left with such desperation, as if she waited for someone to come in and explain this circus of a display to her. All Ray could do was pressing his hands into each other for a little grounding and let her continue scream until it echoed against the walls, coming back into his ears a second time afterwards. Like a second punishment.

“All you had to do was present the next centurie's climate change on earth! How hard can it be when it's your purpose!?”

She raised both arms into the air, looking up while her white bird face started to turn red from the madness he caused her. That's what he always did, he was painfully aware.

“Yet you didn't even finish the research… Am I and everyone who has to deal with your lazy ass a joke to you!?” Her eyes shaded a dark, crazy green.

“No!” He yelped back helplessly.

Hands pressed into fists out of pure desperation to fix his mistakes, his blue glowing eyes met her green ones, thus she narrowed them.

“I- I'm sorry I didn't finfish yet— the earth is a very wild climatic place! It's hard to b-be consistent in the results if one tiny bit can change everything! It—”

The blabbering died by the sound of her flat hand hitting his cheek with all her might. He felt the electric pain shooting through his nerves, almost knocking him to the ground by how she liked using all her strength when putting him into his rightful place.

“I so not care about your excuses, Ray…” She mumbled threatening low.

He rubbed his cheek to ease some of the pain. Yet the tears strung in his eyes regardless. Not brave enough to meet hers again.

“You embarrass me, the entire Goetia family!...” Her hand wiggled as she must've caused herself some pain by the impact as well. “Have some class and skill for once in your otherwise useless existence… For all our sakes. You're a fucking headache like this.”

He lowered his head as deep as he could — letting her spit the words with the venom of hatred he made her feel towards him since what felt like forever. Without waiting for a response from him, she turned on her heels to leave the room. Her golden locks curled around her arm gently in contrast to her radical movement of tearing the door open. He couldn't even hear it over the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears.

“Oh, and Ray.” Air thicker than butter.

She looked over her shoulder, much calmer in her appearance now. Both of them knew better, though.

“Do my decision of taking care of you dirty one more time and you can rot away all alone in this castle forever. I don't care.”

“Yes, Ri— My Savior.” He quickly corrected his mistake.

Although he's praying internally she didn't notice, she either did not or she simply didn't care — she just left the room with a bang. Ray's body flinched hard from head to toe at the deafening sound of her going out of the castle. Letting him stand in silence and guilt to think about the mistake he'd done.

Somehow nothing he ever did seemed to be right, good enough or just worth acknowledging with more than a mere nod. A sigh left his beak, coming out from the deepest place of his stomach which still spun uncomfortably fast. His face shifted into a disgusted grimace, forcing him to close his eyes.

Why can't I be better? Not look like a disgrace to the rest of his peers who were more than talented and royal blue than he ever felt. It's unfair, he thought sad. It's unfair that no matter how hard he tried being better, being a Goetia Prince, it was never good enough to anyone. Was he doomed to live in this misery of being a failure forever?

The tears that had been on the edge finally found their premission to run down his cheeks. It made him feel only worse about himself, though. He wasn't supposed to cry. Or be this weak in general. It was disgraceful. With that he took his steps towards the balcony, perhaps some fresh air would help him relax both his racing pulse and the uneasy carousel inside his belly.

On his way, he wiped the tears as well. Although nobody should be able to see him from that height — it was better not risking someone being able to catch him in this state and take a photo for social media. Then she'd make her threat come true, leaving him forever lonely to rot away inside these walls made for influential royals.

───────────

She froze in her place when the doors to the balcony opened without a warning. The sound of marbel hit the glas once they were out of the way — there was the face she'd been avoiding the most, right after the blond bird woman. Her heart stopped working and came to a standstill.

Any plan of escape, the ideas she played through endlessly for her safety now vanished altogether. Leaving her defenseless to the loud gasp of the Prince. Who's eyes widened in pure shock when his hands shot up to his chest the same second. Shit, she thought panicked. I'm so busted...!!!

Ray couldn't move for a good while. Somehow his muscles didn't listen to any order after finding an unexpected visitor on his private balcony.

Her purple hair moved slightly with the warm wind of hell. Big, round yellow eyes stared directly into his, as if they tried to reflect his own. She was smaller than him, but to be fair, most people were. A sinner... he noticed immidiately because of her form. She's no native to hell. This cat-like appearance must've been a result of either her sins on earth or the silent story of how she died.

He ears dropped down onto her head, hiding away almost. The panic ate away at her nerves, wondering what punishment a Prince of the Goetias would come up with. After all, not only was she rudely invadig his private place, but she also sneaked around like she's about to actually break in. It made the sweat run down her back.

Then, by the most rooted reflex, she felt her legs shake heavily. "I don't mean any harm!!" She yelled out.

"I- I swear I only pass over your castle t-to reach my town faster-! It- It's not what it looks like-"

However, the Prince didn't take in her justfications, nor the whimmering tone of voice under her words. He kept staring at her. For some reason he wasn't feeling anything. He neither felt anger, nor fear. No worry, offense or confusion. All he could do was look at her roundly shaped face and eyes.

The darkness of earlier suddenly left his shoulders. She was pretty, her straight hair fading into a colder purple down along her strains, her clothes reminded him a bit of that gothic style some people wore throughout their daily lives. The fact she wore no shoes was a good way to realize just how small her figure truly was. These soft looking feet were maybe as big as the palm of his hand.

It's obvious that she couldn't be older than him. Time moved foward differently in hell, yes, but there's this qurik to her that revealed she must've come here not too long ago. The Prince blinked out of his trance — hearing her still ramble while being pressed against the railing.

She's scared, he finally made the conclusion for himself. Her pupils were only a point wide and continued shaking with tremor of pure fear. And while he's having every right to be filled with wrath, his intuiton made him decide to not be bitter towards her. He's able to see she didn't mean to come rob or harm him.

Her fearfull attitude, this slim albeit elegant body of hers, it all screamed innocence. And while it should never be taken for granted — he's aware it was the truth. A foreign wamth spread inside his chest.

"No, stop." He said calmly, lifting his hand.

The way her mouth snapped shut wasn't what he intended, so he shook his head. "I mean... tell me the reasoning."

The air around them burned for her. She had no idea how it felt on his feathers. The soft tone caused mistrust to bubble up. Why was he behaving like she didn't just land on his balcony as a stranger?

Knowing there's no choice, she swallowed the lump blocking her throat. "I... use the castle as a shortcut to reach my city faster, My Prince."

Although they quavered at the edges, the Prince's cheeks heat up until they turned a deep pinkish color due to her words.

The title definitely was nothing new. Despite the most stuff calling him Mr. Ray on his demand, being called a Prince shouldn't have made his heart jump as high as it did. No, he thought half conciously. It's not about being adressed as Prince. She said "My Prince."

What was going on with him? He never felt this way before, clueless he wondered what spell she probably used to tame him for her benefit. For now, however, he didn't mind all that much and instead nodded thoughtfully because of her simple answer. It seemed logical — she's a cat demon. Sneaking around places had been a new gift amongst the torture of this enternal life.

He scanned the floor for a second. Then he raised his eyes again. "You swear upon your wounds its the truth?"

No room to interpert this oath, considering it sounded oddly specific, she breathed through silently. "Yes, My Prince." She swore.

The Goetia noticed the breeze of the night came flowing easier now. Without awareness, a smile creeped under his beak. And while she's no expert on bird demons — she realized that it was a smile indeed. Confusing her further, feeding this doubt that cricled around her head.

"What's your name?" He couldn't help the question.

The stranger blinked once, then a second time. "....(N), My Prince." The fright too present for his and her taste.

(N).. he replayed her name in his mind with his own voice. (N) sounds beautiful. That's the first thing he came up with. Her name was just like her apperance. It was beautiful. His smile widened an inch.

"How long have you been using my castle as your shortcut?"

"Since... two months, My Prince."

"When did you die?"

"Five months ago, My Prince..."

"(N), certainly you're aware of what you're doing."

No answer to reciprocate. Of course she knew, it's not like she was stupid enough to sneak over places she didn't at least did surface research on. All she's able to offer was a reluctant nod. The Prince sighed conflicted.

On one hand it's his duty to punish intruders, regardless their intentions. On the other though, he couldn't deny this shot of excitement once they first made eye contact. This Sinner reminded him of a pet. Of a cute, little kitten that's just seeking shelter when breaking into the back of a house. It didn't mean to cause trouble. It was looking for a comfortable place to rest in.

Exactly that's what she looked like to him. It's not the truth, it couldn't be and neither of them would have the power to convince him otherwise. But maybe, just maybe, he found a new opportunity. Something better than this msierable, lonely life he was forced to live. She looked like she needed shelter — he could give her shelter.

His shoulders relaxed. "Come, (N)." He meant it as an invintation, but sounded more of an order by accident.

The girl's ears shot back into the air. Wiggling her tail unconsciously fast by the insane situation. She knew she couldn't make it if she tried to run away. He'd catch her before she managed to jump off the balcony.

That's it, she shivered defeated. Stomach spinning and making her sick to the bones. He's going to do the worse to me for touching his castle...

Plagued by intense fear, her legs managed to move along his enormous steps regardless. She hugged herself, feeling the goosebumbs even underneath the layers of fur. Praying to whatever's there that it would only result in instant death, that's the best outcome she could imagine. What else would be better?

He closed the doors behind her after they entered the living room. Mint eyes fixated on the handle — a new wave of excitement overcame his system.

His heart pulsed hard in his neck, hands and feet. This was totally forbbiden. He never ever could invite a lower class demon into his private walls. If Rika knew... The mere thought of her finding out ran down in an ice cold shower. With all these warnings, this ungodly risk he took, it was still so thrilling. This had to happen and he told himself it was nothing other than fate.

She's a lost kitten that needed shelter. And he could provide her the best shelter in all of hell. Ray shook himself from the words and turned his head around. She stood in the middle of the room. Taking all attention, as if pulling it onto only her. Her arms were wrapped around her chest, it made him a bit sad he couldn't see her chest now. Yet her face — it was everything.

"(N)," He made her flinch by accident. "Tell me about yourself."

The second the order left his beak, he's bewildered by himself for asking such a trivial thing. Again, he couldnt't win against these intrusive thoughts. She was like a flower than an actual cat when thinking about it. He would scrap through the dirt until she had space to bloom. He's certain she would be gorgeous after she presented him her petals. All he had to do was digging into the depths of the dirt. She would come out.

She licked over her lips in a nervous manner. "I... W-What would you like to know, My Prince..?"

"Whatever there is to learn, Flower. Whatever it is. I want to know."

[kosi-annec]

[HAIKYUU!!] Season 3 episode 8

Fuck 8-4 that's too big of a gap, they need to score the next points or else they're not gonna catch up..

Suga idk if it's smart to tell the enemy team your next plan, but it seems to piss tendo off lol

AAA NO ITS USHI AGAIN- OH nvm thx you for messing that up hskshk

No. 10 on field, let's go hinata! Get us them points back. Oh hey this background character (idk wat his name is) is doing pretty good.

AH OOF that's gotta hurt sheesh.. BUT KEEP GOING HINATA DON'T STOP- oh wow even TENDO was fooled by that. I gotta appreciate the fact that hinata was actually thinking before he spiked cuz he's not working w kage

wait hinata let himself get hit in the face ON PURPOSE?? I mean, if it keeps the ball up ig

"he shows no sign of the talent or intelligence of those other players" ouch, but true lmao

Ok you two (ushi & hinata) stop trying to assert dominance HSKSHS

Ngl kage just jumping up and down in the corner looked so silly

HINATA GET AN ICE PACK IF YOU CAN TASTE BLOOD, wat is with the karasuno boys getting hurt these past few matches, 2 have been sent to the nurse and now lil tangerine is technically bleeding just not externally

Nice Suga forcing him into a receive. Oh shit they're gonna do it again, oH THEY GOT THE POINT! Tendo was so caught up in trying to read em he didn't act

KAGEYAMA BACK ON FIELD LEZGO!! Pft- "better watch the back of your head, squirt" god i love the eng dub

All of this build up for kage's serve is either gonna end really cool or really bad. OK it went well- holy cRAP KAGE?? He was all the way from the back tf??? HOLY SHIT and we're back let's go!!!

hhh come on crows, they can't let shiratorizawa get any further ahead of them

Ok eita up on field. Wait he's also a setter? Ngl I don't remember. Yknow that's fair from eita ig, cuz everyone has eyes on ushi and ig tendo if only for his amazing blocking style, so it's nice to get that attention on you, if for a lil bit

FUCK- NOOO 12-9 they're getting too close to 15 for comfort..

YES BEST OLDER SISTER! These kinds of situations is exactly why there's cheer squads n shit. When the team is starting to feel down it's the audience's job to lift their spirits up, to let them know that someone believes in them

?? Is that a fucking anthem shiratorizawa's audience singing???

OK good save there tanaka, NOW JUST KEEP IT UP- omg OMG HINATA?? BLOCKED!? USHI!! holy crap LETZ GO THAT'S OUR TINY MIDDLE BLOCKER

Goshiki I thought you'd realize by now that no.10 ain't your average 1st year player, that tangerine is a monster

Aw kage basically telling kazuhito (finally learnt bg char's name) not to worry too much on how he plays

TADASHI GIVE US A GOOD SERVE! Yesss he's so confident in his abilities now, he's grown so much

CRAP nooo the crow's pinch server is out now- wait what?? OH goshiki touched the net. NVM THEN KEEP GOING TADASHI!!

Tbf kazuhito's the one that got hit and he's not used to the power behind ushi's spikes. aaAAA OK THAT'S OK BG GUY, you got a point that's all that matters right now

HSKHSJS OMG KAGE'S GROWN SO MUCH, he's literally adjusting himself to suit the spiker

YESSS the stress is getting to them, shiratorizawa's making mistakes, and by shiratorizawa i mean goshiki

Damn, that.. actually really sweet of ushi, cuz that man only says shit if he believes it, and goshiki needed that

GIVE US ANOTHER TADASHI- Ah fuck, and there goes the streak

FUCK, aaagh i thought he was gonna do a strong hit, ok so goshiki's not as reckless as i thought

14-13 COME ON KARASUNO!! YES OMG 14-14 JUST ONE MORE POINT, YOU GOT THIS CROWS

Ooh, old man flashback? Oof yeah that's the worse, where ppl deny you becuz you lack on something you don't have control over

Now back to present stress, JUST KEEP THE BALL UP CROWS! STOP HIS SPIKE- omg GOOD RECEIVE NOYA

I do find it interesting that the choice of music for this final point is not like hype or something loud, but more emotional and hopeful sounding. Idk im not a musician

FUCK NO! AHH they can't do another deuce again they HAVE to get the next 2 points..

Oh shit, coach?? Well, he's a man of few words, but those words are enough to light their fire again

Yachi?? wait- WAIT OMG IS HE BACK?? OMG TSUKI'S BACK!! THE CAVALRY IS HERE LEZGO

[fairypoop]

DESIRE

18+‼️ JAVIER PEÑA X F READER

~ This is my first story/one shot I hope you like it 😤 ~

(Based on season 1/2 of the series Narcos)

*Its your first day and you meet a man you can’t keep your eyes off, staying late after work definitely has its benefits…*

Waking up and getting ready for work may be the one thing you dread the most, the exhaustion you feel applying your makeup. But no matter how exhausting it may be, you have to look good for your first day on the job.

“Fuck!! I’m gonna be late!” Taking one last look at your dazzling self in the mirror, you head off to work.

Back in America, you never had missions as tough as tracking down Pablo Escobar, Columbia was very different, and you were always up for a challenge, but god was it hard.

As you enter the building you look to your right, your eyes meet with the one and only Javier Peña, the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, his eyes slide up and down your body, and it feels good. You purposefully chose an extra short and extra tight mini skirt for the day, along with a black button down shirt, tucked in with the top buttons undone, glamourising your breasts, making sure javier gets the best view, you’re prone to being slutty when you wanted to be.

* ‘She is beautiful’ Javier thinks to himself, not being able to take his mind off of you. Of course, he can’t stop thinking of you, when your Jimmy Choos stepped into the office he was hooked. Your elegance, sophistication, and cigarette hanging out of your mouth was enough to leave him drooling. You were enough to distract him from the fact that he’d have to be working late, after hours, the most draining experience there is, not even Steve would be there to accompany him since his new child had come along. He couldn’t believe the new member of the team could be so beautiful, and such a distraction, and he couldn’t wait to get to know you better. *

Unfortunately for you, you too had to be working late, since you were new you decided you needed to catch up, what you didn’t know was that you would have Javier Peña to accompany you.

“Bye Steve, don’t forget to keep me updated with baby photos” you smile as Steve grabs his things to leave for the end of the day. “Of course y/n, phone me if you need help with anything” Steve suggests, smiling to you on his way out. “Will do!” You shout back, frowning to yourself as you take in the piles of work that lay in front of you. ‘It’ll be fine’ you reassure yourself as you slide back in your chair, going through paper after paper.

Suddenly, you hear movement from the other side of the room and jolt back in terror, to find none other than the man himself, Javier Peña, sitting directly opposite to you, also sat behind piles of stacked up work. You smile to him, and he winks back.

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced cariño, I’m Javier Peña, and you are?” “Im y/n y/l/n, pleasure to meet you honey” you respond, eager to be indulging in a conversation.

You can’t believe you are in a room alone with this man, you don’t trust yourself. ‘Keep it together girl’ you remind yourself, and you try, but the sight of that man causes all of the feminism to leave your body, his looks are lethal, and it’s driving you crazy.

After hours of sitting in silence, with the occasional keyboard taps and pen clicks, Javier finally eases some of the tension. “How would you like some whisky to ease your head from all the work, God knows I need it.”

“Hell yes I could go for some whisky right now” you respond, a bit too eagerly, letting him pour out two glasses of straight whisky into glasses, clinking them together as he gets up from his seat and hands you yours. He sits himself down on Steve’s chair, directly next to you, he man spreads and with one look there are butterflies all over your body.

“So, where are you from?” He asks. “I’m from Chicago, I got transferred here to work on the Escobar case with you and Steve” you smile, “I’m looking forward to working with you” Javier says in a teasing tone. “Have you visited anywhere in Columbia since you’ve been here?” The questions keep coming, and eventually you two form a kind of friendship, laughing at the dirty jokes that corrupt Javier’s mind, and solemnly smiling at memories you share with him, and the ones he share with you.

Eventually, after an hour or so of laughing, and drinking, the two of you look at each other “You are so beautiful cariño” Javier whispers seductively in your ear, you could cut the tension with a knife. “You aren’t too bad yourself huh” you whisper back. All of a sudden, lights turn on in the office behind you, it’s your boss. ‘Great’ you think to yourself’, ‘just as things were getting good. With a disappointed face, Javier brings his bottle of whiskey back to his desk, sitting back down in his secluded area. Your eyes meet his, and along with yours, his eyes are full of lust, a wishing for what could have been until your boss entered their office.

You could feel a hunger build up in you, and the next thing you knew you were walking towards Javier’s desk, letting him whisper sweet nothings in your ear, you may have not known him for long, but your desperation for him had grown dangerously strong. You lean on his desk, exposing you cleavage and let him take in the view, leaving him drooling, and horny. He lifts your head up with his finger, looking from your eyes to your lips. “I hope our boss doesn’t see this, my cariño, but I can’t help myself,” his lips latch on to yours, your tongues moving in swift motions, letting him taste all of you, his hand grips the back of your head, desperate for more and you want him to take you right then and there, but you know that you can’t, so you let it stop. Both of you are breathless as you look to one another. You look towards the bosses room, and then back to his secluded office, and without a second thought, you get on your knees below his desk and out of sight, letting his eyes pry on yours, and you feel his bulge with your hands, and it’s big, so so big, it’s bulging with need as you fist it, his head tilting back. “I need you cariño, I need you right now!” He exclaims in a whisper, breathless. “Manners” “Please baby please,” he looks at you with desperation, you need him as much as he needs you.

You unbutton his pants, almost ripping off the buttons, you can’t hide how much you need to hear his whimpers, you drag down his briefs and his cock emerges, glistening in pre cum, your breath was taken away. ‘Oh my god it’s huge’ you think to yourself, blown away by this man. Without hesitation, you lay your tongue on his cock and stoke it, licking off the pre cum and teasing him, and he can’t take it. “Fuck! Please please please I can’t take it baby!” With your head in his hands, he guides you cautiously, letting you take time to get used to it, and you take his length in your mouth, letting your hands work the rest of him. He throws his head back in awe, breathing heavily and he guides your head up and down his huge cock, until he reaches his limit, coming all over your face, watching you with hunger as you lick the last parts of his cum off his cock. He looks around to make sure no one is watching, and takes you on his lap, letting you feel his still hard cock underneath your mini skirt, kissing you harshly. He asks for your permission to take off your panties, you nod without hesitation, and once he sees this he wastes no time hooking your panties to the side and lining his cock up with your pussy, he slowly lowers you, letting you work at your own pace. You’re overcome with pleasure, needing more, craving more, lowering yourself on his dick and gradually finding a suitable pace, you bounce up and down on his lap, sweat trickling off both of your foreheads, he plays with your clit as his cock slides inside of you, he opens the buttons of you shirt and rips off your bra, revealing you tits bouncing up and down as you experience waves of bliss you have never felt before, that sight alone making him feel like he could cum. The sloppier the thrusts get, the closer you both are to coming, and eventually you both do, you come on his cock and he comes inside of you, the feeling warming up your stomach, and you are left shaking with sensation. He kisses your neck constantly, whispering in your ear “that was amazing.” You feel complete with him, and he feels complete with you, Javier Peña has finally found his match.

Hope you enjoyed xoxo 🫶😻💄💋

I <3 Javier Peña

[twilightmalachite]

Christmas Live - Star Chart 4

Author: Akira

Characters: Tetora, Hinata, Yuuta

Translation Team: Mika Enstars & 310mc

EN Proofer: ryuseipuka

"Sorry, Hinata-kun. I know you begged me not to tell him, but it really didn’t feel right staying silent ‘bout it."

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Season: Winter

Location: Downtown

Tetora: Sorry, Hinata-kun. I know you begged me not to tell him, but it really didn’t feel right staying silent ‘bout it.

I told Yuuta-kun basically everything.

I mean, it’s not like you weren’t being serious ‘bout your idol activities, right, Hinata-kun?

You were taking on part-time work that had nothing to do with idols, but even that’s ‘cuz you were planning on using what you’d earned to build up unit funds…

And you were taking the steps needed to get idol-related jobs eventually by forming more connections, right?

The “saving up money to buy ingredients for a Christmas cake” was just an excuse to cover your real intentions up.

‘Cuz there’s no way a unit of only first years could suddenly get tasked with a huge job… not when the unit’s still got no fame or achievements to it.

You had to first build a business from the bottom to catch the clients’ interests, yeah?

But since you wanted to give Yuuta-kun only the idol-related jobs…

You were trying to do all the muddy, boring work all by yourself. That’s what this was all ‘bout, right, Hinata-kun?

Hinata: … …

Tetora: Yuuta-kun had no idea ‘bout everything that was going on in the background…

Well, it’s also ‘cuz you threw any random excuse at him, but it made him think you weren’t trying at all with idol activities.

So out of agitation, he went looking for jobs by himself. And honestly, I think that’s also a problem of its own.

There’s nothing praiseworthy ‘bout doing whatever you like without the leader’s permission, y’know.

Yuuta: … …

Tetora: This situation could’ve been avoided altogether if you two had just talked it out with each other and came to a mutual understanding.

I don’t really wanna lecture you guys as an outsider, and sound like I’m talking down to you two—

But you gotta have faith in each other… No, not just that—You should say what’s on your mind to one another.

Even if you’re twins, even if you’re family—Your feelings won’t reach the other if you don’t confront and be properly honest with each other.

…And so, with that said—I’ll be the referee, so you two should go ahead and punch each other with everythin’ you’ve got~♪

Hinata: What?! There’s no way I can hit Yuuta-kun; he’s my treasure!

Yuuta: Well, I got a message from Shinobu-kun…

It seems like we’ll be able to join the live late, so I’d rather we not get hurt before the performance…

Tetora: Then I’ll do the punchin’ instead. Aight you two, line up over there~♪

Hinata: What do you mean by that, Tetsu-kun?! I’m against violence!

Tetora: Don’t worry, I won’t put much force into my punch. Well, just consider that both parties are to blame here~♪

I’m a sportsy type of guy, so I value teamwork a lot.[1] That’s why seeing people hesitate over everythin’ like sissies just makes me wanna knock ‘em down.

You can’t expect your thoughts to be heard if you don’t put your whole weight into it!

Also, ‘cuz of you two, I’ll also be joining the Eve’s Eve Live late.

The time I get to be on stage is decreasing by the minute, y’know~ So this is me giving you your just deserts. C’mon now, grit your teeth~♪

Hinata: Eek!? Don’t look so eager over this, you barbarian! Yuuta-kun, hurry, get behind me!

Yuuta: U-Umm…? You need to choose your friends better, Aniki…

Yuuta: …Our height’s still the same, huh, so I can just barely hide behind you, Aniki. But that still doesn’t mean you have to force yourself to protect me, you know.

Even if we can’t actually do supernatural telepathy, I can still kinda tell what you’re thinking.

I know you’ve always been doing things for my sake, Aniki.

No, rather, for the “us” from back then, back when we considered each other as ourselves without hesitation.

But you know, you’re forgetting something important, Aniki.

You see me growing up as how “we” were back then, Aniki… So maybe you’re satisfied with that, but…

But I have to keep always watching you get dirty and damaged, Aniki.

Isn’t that terribly cruel of you to do? You’re doing something horrible for your own self-satisfaction, Aniki.

Don’t forget that. Think about how I feel, being left behind all the time!

I love the “us” of those days as much as—if not more than—you do, Aniki.

And I love you, but the you I love is distorting and changing for my sake.

With a smile and a look of satisfaction on your face, too. You keep taking away something important to me, then turn around and tell me not to change.

It’s pretty unreasonable to demand that of me, but I’ll try to do my best anyway.

Yuuta: It’s also hard to maintain your self-image when all you’ve got at home is a cracked mirror. But if that’s what you want, Aniki, I’ll do what I can to keep my appearance in order.

And if there’s something strange or distorted somewhere, then just tell me! ‘Cause I can’t tell on my own. I’ll even go “mirror, mirror, on the wall” every day, okay?

Yuuta: We may still be at the bottom of the barrel in Yumenosaki Academy…

But that’s why I’ll do the best I can to become the most beautiful “me” in the world for you, Aniki.[2]

[ ☆ ]

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Taiikukai-kei is a word used to describe those who are part of a sports club. Taiikukai-kei is also used to refer to a trope of that demographic; they are typically associated with the following characteristics: 1) “when there is a will, there is a way” belief, 2) highly values a hierarchical system (ex. respecting/obeying superiors), 3) highly values teamwork and proper etiquette when greeting others. There are also more characteristics that are very fitting for Tetora’s character. Read more here (JP wiki).

The chapter names of Yuuta’s Scout Story, MIRAGE, reference this line nearly seven years later; “The Most Beautiful Mirror in the World”.

[l-lou-u]

How about we do some analysis as a first post ?

THIS WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2 (hidden inventory and premature death arcs)

I love everything about this visual, the composition is absolute genius.

Hope you enjoyed those words because now we’ll dive into why this poster is heartbreaking.

(Please forgive me if I make mistakes, English is not my first language)

Now I know a lot of person think it’s so happy, maybe even too happy for some, but when you analyse it’s composition it really is heart wrenching.

I see a lot of people say that it looks like Gojo and Geto hold hands at first (and that would be sweet, even in a platonic way (I don’t ship them lol)) but it wouldn’t make sense. Gojo is running, sprinting even, whereas Geto is standing, hands in his pockets and feet secured on the ground, if there were to be holding each others, Geto would fall face first on the ground haha

No, Geto is standing, next to a running Gojo, slightly turned to his right, where Riko is. Riko who is falling towards him and maybe even reaching out for him to catch her.

See where I’m going ?

Gojo is moving forward, without a look back, breaking every obstacles on his way, smiling thinking his best friend is next to him. And he is, but that will not last.

Geto is not moving, like he was unable to move forward after Riko’s death. So there he is, enjoying the brief, temporary moment where he is with his friends. And each one of them is still innocent, and joyful, doomed to be separated, because if you’re careful, they are unknowingly running away from the blue spring, not knowing it would be their last one. The bright sky is behind them and they’re entering some sort of building (?), leaving behind them the blue spring along with their innocence.

This whole scene is not meant to last, soon, Geto will be left standing with Riko in his arms, and with Toji responsible for her death, unable to move forward, and Gojo will keep going (and I am NOT saying he forgot Riko and Geto, ofc he never did, just saying he kept going with his life as best as he could)

And of course, how could I not talk about Toji. I kinda think he looks a bit goofy in the shadow, upside down, with one hand in his (dirty) hair and the other on his hip but anyway.

Toji is standing behind, without any of them aware of his presence despite him being pretty close, or at least not too far.

Like Kuroi, he could be there because he is frequently present in this arc (and has a big impact obviously) but lets push our analysis (I hope I’m not reaching too much)

As I said, Toji doesnt seem too far away when you compare him with Kuroi.

Simple thing first, Gojo doesn’t notice him at all, could be a hint to say that he doesn’t have any cursed energy.

His presence could also symbolizes Geto’s upcoming problems, let me explain :

Geto’s morals were incompatible with his job as an exorcist, so he was going to break down at some point. But of course he didn’t know that, he didn’t know his morals were going to fuck him up. He accidently ignored it, but it’s here, it always have been, like Toji is standing in his back without him knowing.

I love the composition so damn much, its just so well thought, I just know this season is going to be great

I enjoyed writing this, I don’t know if that will reach anyone, but it was fun anyway, please, share your thoughts in the comments

Now I’ll try to post regularly