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kareofbears · 4 years ago

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number one fan

At the best of times, a large group of teenagers in one area is a mild inconvenience to traverse with. In between rows and rows of filled chairs in a packed gymnastics stadium, it’s a nightmare.

Especially when someone unexpected is sitting close by.

—

read on ao3 or under the cut :)

(lovingly beta read by @mad4turtles)

At the best of times, a large group of teenagers in one area is a mild inconvenience to traverse with. In between rows and rows of filled chairs in a packed gymnastics stadium, it’s a nightmare.

“Man, it’s so effin’ crowded here,” Ryuji grumbles, half-shoving people out of the way. They learned early on to make him spearhead the group in packed environments, given that he’s the only one with enough guts to openly ask crowds to move out of the way. He’s like a pissed-off shepherd towing his sheep.

“What do you expect?” Makoto sighs, one hand gripping Haru’s wrist and the other clutching Ann’s jacket, kindergarten style. “This is something like the semi-finals, right?”

Akira shrugs, his shoulder rubbing against Ryuji’s from the sheer proximity. “No clue.”

“Didn’t she give you the tickets?”

“Sure she did, but it’s not like it came with some kind of gymnastics handbook.”

“Does anyone even know what type of gymnastics she’s in?” Haru asks, grip tightening around Makoto’s hand when a group of enthusiasts threatens to break them apart.

Ann’s eyes light up. “Oh, the one with the string twirling, right? She posted it on her Insta the other day, she looked so good.”

“She did! I can only imagine how rigorous her regimen must be.”

“Do you think she’d give me her secret? I wonder if she even lets herself snack.”

"I think so? She posted some desserts on her story recently."

Ryuji scratches his head. "There's more than one type of gymnastics?"

Makoto lets her head drop forward. "We don't deserve these tickets."

Akira turns his head back to the rest of them. "We're getting close to our seats," he says with a raised voice to combat the noisy crowd ('raised' only in the sense that it's slightly louder than his usual soft tone. Akira is a man of many talents, but voice projection is not one of them).

Someone from a step above them knocks their elbow into Akira's head, enough to make him stumble back a few steps, surprised.

Ryuji sends a glare at the stranger, eyes dark. "Hey, watch it, you motherfu—"

"And here are our seats!" Makoto claps her hands. "Let's sit before we do something illegal!"

Akira cards through Ryuji's hair, a silent thank you, I love you, but please calm down.

Eventually, he relents. "Fine."

Ann collapses into one of the bright red, plastic seats. "Thank God, my feet were killing me."

Haru joins her, grimacing. "Why are these seats so sticky...?"

"Because whenever they do a real good flip, the fanatics piss themselves."

"Ryuji, what the hell?"

"Sorry."

"Okay everyone," Makoto peers down at her phone. "Competition starts in two minutes. Settle in, but don’t go to the bathroom."

"Don't go to the bathroom?" Akira raises an eyebrow. "Are you Ushimaru?"

"I'm just saying that, given our position, we're basically stuck to our seats until everyone else leaves."

"For real?" Ryuji groans. "I really wanted one of those hot dogs they have, where they're yelling out 'hot dogs!' and shit."

"This isn't some American baseball game, dumbass," Ann snorts.

"I know that!"

Haru points past Ryuji. "If you're really desperate to go, you might be able to ask that man to move his tripod aside to make room for you."

"You're totally right! What a good senpai," he casts a grin at Haru before calling out to the man a few seats down from them. He's dressed bulkily for such a packed stadium: a thick black hoodie with the hood up, and a thick pair of black shades. To top it all off, he has an annoyingly big tripod in front of him with an expensive-looking camera perched on top. "Yo! 'Scuse me!"

Ryuji blinks as the man almost seemed to shift away from him. "Uh, hello? I just got a quick question."

To everyone's surprise, the man seemed to turn even more, his torso twisted in the opposite direction.

Makoto squints. “Maybe he didn’t hear you?”

“Whatever, it’s about to start anyway,” Ryuji falls back into his chair. “I’ll just ask him again when I actually need to go. Oh, look it’s her!”

Sumire stands with her coach, dressed in a bright leotard and a determined expression on her face, nodding along intently.

Ann leans forward over the railing. “Go Yoshizawa! Woo! Come on guys, we’re here to cheer!”

“Well, she did give us the best seats… it only makes sense that we make the most of them.” Haru says, before cupping her hands over her mouth. “Let’s go, Yoshizawa!”

“Hell yeah, Yoshizawa!”

“You can do it!”

“Gymnastics.”

“Akira, you suck.”

Sumire looks up, eyes brightening as she waves back enthusiastically in their direction. To their surprise, she brings her hands together to make a heart.

“That’s sweet of her,” Haru comments. “I wonder who that was for.”

Ryuji rolls his eyes. “Probably Akira.”

“It’s for Akira.”

“Definitely.”

“I don’t think so,” Akira frowns. “She’s never done that before.”

“Man, don’t try to be all humble—everyone knows she had a thing for you.”

“In the first ten minutes, maybe. Now she’s just a little sister,” Akira waves at Sumire. “Go back to cheering.”

“Good idea,” Ryuji takes a deep breath. “Give me a Y!”

“Y!” Ann yells back.

“Give me an O!”

“O!”

Makoto rubs her temples. “We really don’t deserve these tickets.”

—

The competition goes off without a hitch, Sumire taking first place with ease. If the people around them were exasperated with their cheering before, it’s nothing compared to how they screamed their throats raw when she accepted her gold medal. The stranger in the black hoodie kept throwing them dirty looks, but they didn’t care.

“I’m so thirsty,” Ann rasps, once the award ceremony wraps up. “Anyone have water?”

“Nope,” Ryuji stands, stretching his arms above his head. “I need the bathroom pretty bad, though.”

To their misfortune, people are still slowly filing out of their seats, too slow for their liking. There’s a gap in the crowd, but the only way to get to it is through—

“The man is still there?” Haru asks.

“It seems so,” Makoto says. “He’s probably a huge fan of the whole gymnastics scene, given the way he’s so careful with his camera.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I gotta go,” Ryuji says, before turning to the man once more. “Sorry dude, gotta move past you for real this time.”

And just like before, the man steadfastly ignores him. Akira narrows his eyes.

“Excuse me,” he says, his voice dropping an octave lower. Everyone stiffens. The words he spoke did not belong to Kurusu Akira and is now owned by someone donned in a long, black tail-coat, armed with a knife as sharp as a tack. “Please move. My partner here is trying to walk past you.”

And still, the man doesn’t shift.

Ryuji places a hand on Akira’s forearm. “Chill,” he says, running his hand up and down in what he hopes is a soothing manner. Ryuji might be the one on a hair-trigger temper, but no one has anything on Akira if someone so much as looks at his friends the wrong way.”It’s cool, ��Kira. If the dude’s busy, then he’s busy. We’ll just wait for the other side to file out, yeah?”

Akira smiles, just a little. “I love you.”

“Love you too, dude.”

“—but you’re too nice.” He rips his arm from Ryuj’s lax grip and saunters over to the man.

“Respect,” Ann mutters, impressed.

“Stupid,” Makoto rectifies, face palming

“Hi there,” Akira greets, faux cheerful in a voice they recognize as his customer service voice. “Still ignoring us? That’s cool,” he shrugs a shoulder. “We’re used to it. Not a problem—we know how to be heard.”

In one, swift movement, Akira stands in front of the tripod.

Ryuji covers his eyes, peeking through his fingers. “I’m dating an actual bastard.”

The man visibly bristles and looks up to send Akira a black look from under his hood.

“Can you—” he hisses, before cutting himself off. “I mean,” clearing his throat, he drops his voice to a low grunt, not too different from a child impersonating an old man. “Move, dammit!”

Haru frowns. “That voice…”

The man shoots her a dirty look, before quickly turning his sight downward, but it was too late: they’ve all already caught a glimpse of his panicked brown eyes.

“Alright, I’ll move,” he says in the same gruff voice. “Just leave me alone—”

Akira bends down slightly, squinting at the man who’s avidly attempting to pull down his hood even more.

Squirming in his seat, “Young man, you are being extremely rude and hostile and I don’t appreciate—”

Akira reaches forward to grab his hood and forces it back, allowing Akechi Goro’s hair to flow down on his shoulders.

They all stilled, frozen in shock. Eyes widened, mouths openly gaping. Only Akira’s expression remained unchanged; cool and filled with disdain.

Ryuji is the first to speak. “I really hope I didn’t just piss myself.”

“What—” Ann splutters. “What are you—why the hell—I just—”

Makoto’s hand are alternating between making a numbered list with her fingers and gesticulating wildly. “So you’re in a gymnastics competition, and you’re actively hiding from us, and you have a camera which is weird at best, why are you—”

“I truly want to give you the benefit of the doubt here, Akechi-kun,” Haru cuts in. “But I’m kind of struggling to find—”

“Bro, like, a camera? You weren’t even trying to hide how weird this—”

“I know a thing or two about creeps and—”

“Oh, would you all give it a rest, you damn dolts!” Akechi snaps. “Your insistent cheering from earlier is already giving me a migraine.”

Akira narrows his eyes. “You don’t get to talk to them like that.”

“I just don’t understand, Akechi,” Makoto’s brows furrows. “You could have avoided being caught if you had just moved out of the way before sounding the alarm bells through Akira’s head.”

Leaning back into his chair, Akechi shoots her an incredulous look. “I wasn’t going to do that.”

“Why not?” Ann asks. “Do you really just love pissing us off?”

“No, I didn’t even know you clowns were beside me until it was too late,” he shoots a glare somewhere down towards the mats. “I couldn’t have moved this camera because…”

Everyone leans forward, awaiting his response as Akechi trails off. He blinks slowly.

“Hello?” Ryuji asks, incredulous. “What the hell was that? Why’d you stop talking?”

“You know what?” He stands abruptly, words flying out of his mouth. “I don’t need to answer any of your questions like some kind of interrogation,” shoving his arms through his jacket. “I know my rights,” he plucks the camera off of the tripod and closes its legs with a snap. “I’m a detective.”

With a dignified tilt of his head, he turns to leave only for Akira to cut him off by placing a foot on the stadium chair. “Nice try.”

“Move,” Akechi spits through gritted teeth.

“Nope.”

“Not before you tell us why you were recording Yoshizawa-chan,” Haru smiles.

Ann points at Akechi like she’s about to challenge him to a duel. “We care about her too much to let this go, so fess up!”

Rubbing his temples, “You don’t even know what you’re saying.”

“Then explain yourself!” Makoto says.

“No.”

“Hold on, guys.”

Everyone turns to Ryuji, who’s squinting at Akechi. “We got these dope tickets from Yoshizawa, right?”

“Yeah?”

“So how did this geezer get his hands on his?”

Akira’s eyes twinkle. “Now that’s a fantastic question.”

“I’m sure you all had an absolute grandiose time finding a brand new way to annoy me,” Akechi drawls. “But you aren’t going to get a single word out of—”

“Goro!”

They all turn to the sound of a familiar voice, only to blink when Yoshizawa Sumire comes running towards them, dressed out of her leotard and into her black tracksuit.

Akechi’s eyes widen, and he takes a step back. “No, go away Sumire. I’ll—I’ll meet you downstairs—”

“Yeah, right! That’s what we’ve been doing, but then you didn’t show up. You got me worried! Thought the crowd ate you up.” Sumire rolls her eyes, before smiling. “Hello, senpais!” Bowing deeply, “Thank you for coming. It means a lot to us.”

Slowly, they all turn to stare at Akechi, who’s expression is contorting in a strange way—his lips are pursed, and his arms are crossed in a defensive manner.

“Um…” Ann blunders. “Yup.”

“It was our pleasure,” Akira covers for her, shoving his hand in his pocket. “Congrats on the win.”

Sumire lights up. “Thank you! Speaking of—” she turns to Akechi, hands on her hips. “Tell me you didn’t forget to record me this time. And please tell me I’m in frame. Last time was a mess.”

Akechi gives her a dirty look but nods all the same. “Of course I did, who do you think I am?”

“Hurray!” she claps her hands together. “Funny story, actually. At my last competition, I asked Goro to film me—”

“Sumire,” he hisses at her, but she ignores him.

“But people kept moving the camera and messing it all up! It was a miracle that I had one more competition before the finals came up—I seriously need that footage for practice.”

She laughs, light and trill; a perfect juxtaposition to Akechi’s dark, defeated expression.

“Okay,” Ryuji shakes his head. “What the fuck is going on?”

“What Ryuji is actually means to ask,” Makoto averts. “Are you two…”

“Friends?” Akira finishes. His eyes flicker between the two of them like he’s working out an incredibly difficult equation. “Are you two friends?”

“I don’t have friends,” Akechi insists, the same time Sumire beams, “We’re best friends!”

A beat passes.

“Would you all stop staring at me?” Akechi snaps, and they all immediately look away, but it was too late. They’ve finally nailed his expression, one so strange to see on him that it took much longer than it needed to:

Akechi Goro is embarassed.

“Wow,” Haru whispers.

Sumire peers down at her watch and yelps. “Shoot, it’s that late? Sorry, everyone, we have to leave. Goro treats me whenever I get that first place.”

“Does he now?” Akira remarks innocently. Akechi’s glare can wither flowers.

He drops his foot, allowing Akechi to stride past him a little too quick to be nonchalant.

“Oh, don’t forget this.” Akira swoops down to pick up the forgotten, handing it to Akechi. When their hands touch, he whispers, “Besties, huh?”

“I’ll fucking end you.”

“Third time’s the charm.”

Yanking his hand away, Akechi stalks off. Sumire sighs dramatically.

“Such a drama queen! But I should leave, too.” She bows once more. “Thank you again.”

“No…problem…” Makoto trails off when Sumire runs to Akechi’s side, casually linking arms with him.

Silence encompasses the group.

“That’s weird, right?” Ryuji finally asks. “Like, I’m not wrong for thinking that was really fucking weird, right?”

“Yeah, that was weird,” Makoto confirms.

“Really?” Akira muses. “I can kind of see it.”

Ann rubs her temples. “Whatever. That whole thing plus my dehydration just gave me the world’s biggest headache.”

“Ryuji, don’t you need to go to the bathroom?” Haru reminds him kindly.

“Huh? Oh. I don’t know, I think I’ve might have just moved past it.”

“Gross.”

“Shut up, Takamaki. Let’s leave, I hate it here.”

“Because you peed yourself?”

“I did not.”

—

“I hate you.”

Sumire doesn’t look up from her slice of carrot cake. “No, you don’t.”

Their usual cafe was near empty in thanks to the fact that it’s a Tuesday evening and barely anyone knows this place exists—only a barista is inside with them, trying his best to text on his phone in secrecy and failing miserably. She can feel his glare at her from across the table, though there’s no heat behind it. (There hasn’t been heat behind it for a long time.)

“No,” Akechi agrees. “I don’t.”

She glances up at him. He hasn’t touched his tart yet. “But you’re upset with me.”

His brows scrunch slightly as he rolls his answer around his head. This was to be expected.

“No,” he decides. “I’m not upset, either. But I honestly cannot for the life of me figure out why you would do that. I hate them, Sumire, and you know that.” Picking up his fork, he prods at his fruit tart absentmindedly. “You’re a good person, even if you aren’t nice—”

“Only to you I’m not.”

“—so you won’t do anything that would disconcert me in a legitimate way on purpose.”

Her shoulders tense. “Did it disconcert you?”

“It unsettled me, sure. But only because I knew where their tickets came from, and it certainly didn’t come from Takamaki’s profound interest in gymnastics.”

“Unsettled you?”

Akechi gives her an exasperated look. “You’re going to make me say it?”

“How about a deal?” she offers, smiling ever so lightly. “You say it out loud and I’ll tell you why I did it.”

Sighing, he heavily leans back into his chair. “I despise the idea of them seeing me… like that.”

“Like a human being?”

“Like I’m weak,” he corrects.

“Seeing you in a normal setting,” she settles. “With a friend?”

“You’re pushing it.”

Her smile widens. An odd setting is more accurate. It’s only in a gymnastics setting that she can really get a reaction out of him—rarely does he act the way he did. It’s his own brand of sweet that’s really grown on her.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” she starts, setting down her fork. “But I don’t agree with what you said.”

“Shocker. Which part?”

“About you hating them.”

When she doesn’t continue, he kicks her shin lightly. “Don’t be cryptid.” Which is his way of saying talk to me.

Sumire kicks him back. “I’m not! I’m just thinking.”

She chooses her words with care. “You said something, a while ago,” she says slowly. “Like way, way back. It was kind of offhand, and you probably said it as a way to prove how much you hated them or something. But you mentioned that Akira—and the rest of his lovely friends—were the first people to really treat you like…a person.”

Akechi blinks, and she feels her eyes soften. Of course he thought (or hoped) that she’d forgotten a detail like that.

“And yes, lots of stuff happened in between,” she continues. “Lots and lots of stuff. Stuff I’ll probably never know about. But…I owe them, I think.” Sumire shrugs. “They took care of you before I could have. So I was worried that it bugged you when you lost touch with them.”

Akechi was quiet for a moment before he knits his brows together. “And that led you to try and cupid me with them during your semi-final?”

“When you say it like that—”

“‘Losing touch’ is very different from what actually happened,” he cuts off, leaning forward. “And just because they didn’t treat me like a famous asshole from television absolutely did not create some kind of fostered kinship.”

Akechi’s eyes never soften, never lose focus, but occasionally they can lose some of their steel. Warmth engulfs her as she watches it happen now. “For the record, no. It doesn’t bother me,” he hesitates. “Not…not anymore.”

Just as quick as it arrived, the moment passes. Straightening up, “And you? Does it bug you?”

She blinks. “What does?”

“That I make for a lackluster cheerleader.”

Sumire laughs, too loud for the near-empty cafe. Impossible. He may be a mess with words, would rather pull out his own teeth than confess vulnerability, but he’s shown up to every single one of her competition and sat through the entire thing. From warm-ups to the awards ceremony, it’s undoubtedly a grueling time to spend his day, and as much as he loves to complain about it, whenever she looks up from the mat, he’s always there in the exact same spot without fail.

She snags a strawberry off of his tart, making him click his tongue harmlessly at her.

“You’re more than enough.”

#akesumi #akiryu #pegoryu #number one fan #fic tag #mine #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #im still on my akesumi bullshit #fanfic

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hannahlovestheatre · 6 years ago

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Riverdale + Heathers = how very...(a good rant and review)

Ok so to start off if you're someone who doesn't watch Riverdale and only watched it solely to watch this episode because you thought it would be "trash" or you were politely curious or whateva whateva, here's a small, spoiler free synopsis of what's been going on this season...

This season of Riverdale has had a hard focus on cults and a massive drug possession. The people running this cult are complete wackadoos and Betty Cooper is determined to stop them as they have taken her mom and sister and also they are bringing out the worst in the citizens of Riverdale and ya know KILLING SOME OF THEM. The cult branches out from a creepy board game come to life called Gryphons and Gargoyles but we don't have to touch on that as much. The drug thing is all on Veronica Lodge's father but her mom has been helping on the side and so has Jughead's mom. Everyone in the town is turning against each other and it's been hard to find trust in people that don't see things through the eyes of "The Farm" or are trying to distribute some strong ass drugs.

Tbh that's not even a good description but it gives some good background on the main points of drugs and cults. Now...

Heathers is a world renowned CULT classic movie. The creators clearly used the term to their advantage (literally the only people to applaud at the end of the school's production were the MEMBERS OF THE CULT) and once again connected their characters to the characters of another piece of work and saw this as another opportunity to do a musical episode considering their Carrie one was a success for them even though it wasn't everyone's favorite, but of course I liked it, and Heathers is now a staple to the world of musical theatre.

I think that the Heathers episode was executed a lot better than the Carrie one. I appreciated the Carrie one more because that musical is so slept on and they were able to get the word out about it. But the Carrie episode was more focused on being an episode about the school musical and showed more of the rehearsal process and what the numbers looked like in their production rather than incorporating the songs into real life to make them seem more relatable. The Heathers episode actually incorporated itself into the current storyline of the show and helped tie up some loose ends with the relationships of this season. All the songs they used supported the conflicts and state of mind for each character. They didn't even have the cast sing songs that their Heathers characters sing like for example Betty and Jughead sang Seventeen even though Betty was cast as Duke and Jughead isn't even in the show (we will touch on this later because I think my puddle of tears is still in the living room). They also heard our prayers to have Casey Cott sing more and then threw Cole Sprouse in there to make it even better. (Thanks Riverdale creators!)

Long story short, it seemed more like if Glee were doing a Heathers episode which I stan hard as I am the biggest gleek to ever gleek.

I think they picked all the right songs, Fight For Me was the biggest surprise choice to me but I liked what they did with it again for context sake. If they had found a way to add Freeze Your Brain, The Me Inside of Me, and/or Shine a Light I would have been interested in seeing that. It also would have been cool to see I Say No (Betty would have nailed it as she is saying a big fat no to this cult).

I also wasn't as mad about them using the lyric changes that are in the school edition because it hit me. This is a HIGH SCHOOL putting on a production of HEATHERS THE MUSICAL. Since most schools would either get a big checkmark in the NO box to even put on the show, if a school did get the clear to put on Heathers, they would 100% have to do the school edition. So ya know what haters, they're actually being realistic with the production they actually got the rights to put on. It makes so much sense coming from a hardcore theatre nerd like myself.

Yes I would say some of the cast was autotuned but my mom thought everyone was a great singer and she was very genuine in that comment. Casey Cott, Lilli Reinhart, and Camila Medes are definitely the most polished but Vanessa Morgan, KJ Apa, Madelaine Petsch, Ashleigh Murray, and COLE SPROUSE are also very strong singers. They have more guts to sing this hard score than most people do in community theatre productions of Heathers.

I do think the casting of their musical was mostly spot on only I didn't really see Josie playing Veronica. But going back to my point on the episode not really touching on the actual musical production of Heathers that's happening, it didn't really matter. They pretty much never showed her singing Veronica's stuff so it went right over my head. I think Toni could have been a great Veronica as her Dead Girl Walking had spot on interpretation but actually Betty could have knocked it out of the park as Veronica and Toni could have been Duke to heighten the conflict between her and Cheryl at the time. They didn't HAVE to do it this way because they know the show better than we do but if I were casting Hearthers with Riverdale characters, that's where my head was going.

I know everyone said Betty should be McNamara and Veronica should be Duke but as I watched the episode, I realized everyone based that off looks because McNamara's dad is "LOADED" and the poor girl tries to kill herself because of what goes on outside of the social circle aka literally what Veronica is going through on the show right now. It all clicked. I believed her when she sang Lifeboat. And Betty is a low key savage. She isn't thirsty for Cheryl's power in real life but she does want to make a statement and be heard and to win this battle over the town cult. It made sense once I saw it in front of me.

Cheryl is Heather Chandler. Period.

And again they didn't really focus on their actual production of Heathers and that particular cast but let me say this rn. If Cole Sprouse does not play JD at any point on the future, the world is cancelled. I really didn't think he would ever sing in these kind of episodes or at all, because the show does have the actors perform on occasion. However, when they announced this was happening, I had a glimmer of hope that Jughead would play JD because it makes so much sense...and then he didn't...and then he sang Seventeen anyways and broke my fucking heart. I'm not sure if he really was singing the entire time because the man went up an entire octave between the verse and the chorus but man I was picturing a future production of Heathers starring Cole Sprouse and Lilli Reinhart. It needs to happen. This was literally 2 minutes of the episode and idek if y'all feel the same way but man it wrecked my emotions and my OG Disney Channel stan was losing her mind over Cole Sprouse singing her favorite song from Heathers.

It's 11:47 PM so I need to wrap this up before I fall asleep and forget everything lol.

As a wrap up, I really liked this musical episode and I really liked the other one but it really grinds my effin gears when people jump to conclusions because theatre people aren't doing theatre things. Theatre is inclusive. The arts are inclusive. We can't close our walls to the select few people that "got our criteria to be in the community" (oh wait, isn't that like a cult...? I guess their plan worked).

If you've seen my other posts you know I could rant about this topic for days but long story short, if you aren't willing to not just be a part of the community and welcome everyone in and accept everything as its separate entities but still have your opinions on it without jumping to conclusions...did you eat a brain tumor for breakfast because what's your damage? ❤💛💚💙

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fangirlingwhileblacktarot · 7 years ago

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Wanna Bite (Dean x Reader)

sorry the pic is so effin’ big. tumblr hates me today...

Characters: Dean Winchester & Reader Summary: One-shot, where the reader is going on a diet and Dean wants to make sure she’s okay. Works for Plus-sized reader (like myself lol), but really we are pressured into body insecurities? Tried to keep it racially open, as well. Wordcount: 2100-ish Warnings and Ratings: Fluffy, romantic flirting, sexy talk; Body insecurity, little bit of angst A/N: This was fun to write. Would love to hear your feedback - pushing myself to finish and share more of my SPN story ideas.

**** "Wanna bite?" Dean's voice nearly echoed through the quiet of the Bunker Library. He holds out a fork full of pumpkin pie to your mouth, playfully teasing you with the creamy harvest orange creation, daring you to give in. You want a taste of something alright, but he's not offering that just now. You do get a tiny thrill from his little wicked smile, as you make him wait. "Nope. I'm on a diet," you announce. "Since when? Come on, I need your opinion." Dean had bought 6 different pumpkin pies, including Patti Labelle's brand, for taste testing. You can not break his Pie-loving heart. You open you mouth for Dean and catch the pie on your tongue. "Mmm...I give pie number three 4 stars outta 5...I know, you probably can't tell..." He must be surprised in some part because of the pizza you chowed down on with him last night. And now this. You couldn’t resist - you have to live, right?! You ignore the tiny bit of guilt that is clinging to your conscience. "But yeah, I have to do something." "About what? What’s wrong with you?” His eyes scan your body from head to toe, for the thousandth time since you’ve known him. He catches your eyes and frowns in disapproval. He's not co-signing your dieting decision.

"Isn't it obvious?" You reply in confusion, why did you decide to even discuss it with him? It was a sensitive topic that you never discussed with anyone. "What's obvious is that you are too hard on yourself," Dean replies. "Takes one to know one." "Yeah, you told me before. Now, I'm giving the favor right back, Sweetheart.

Okay, try this one." He lifts up another bit of pie to your lips. "How dare you use my words against me," you joke, to smooth over the awkwardness. You had no idea you would be discussing your health and body issues with Dean Winchester, but here you were. You taste pie number four.“Mmm...This one is better. Might be my favorite of the bunch.” "I'm just sayin' there are things about you to appreciate," he says. "Well, I appreciate that, but..." "No buts...There are things that I appreciate about you," he said firmly."But since you started it... You definitely have a great butt," he paused when he saw your wtf look. "If you don’t mind me saying so." "I'm strangely...not offended," you admit carefully. "Okay then, Y/N has an amazing butt. It's law." His hand slammed the library table to make it official and reaches for pie number five. "I thought you were a boob guy," slips out of your mouth before you can take it back. You had accidentally found one of his "special magazines" in one of the bathrooms once before. You said nothing, and but later that day they were gone, never to be seen in public again. "Not going to lie, I do. But when I see your body...It's like...You're into Art, right? You appreciate each painting for different reasons...Just because you like the Van Gogh, it doesn't mean you don’t enjoying Caravaggio." So he actually listened when you babbled on about Art? "You want me to go into detail about your frame? The background, the foreground, the color scheme, body placement...?" Shit, he was paying attention. You felt a bit more self-conscious, out of habit. You were so used to downplaying your body and staying away from the spotlight. You couldn't argue with Dean's "art theory" though. He went on before you could accept or deny his offer. "This wasn't because of the other night, I hope?" Oh that….You were hoping to forget what happened and was hoping he had as well. You get up quickly. "Can I get a drink before you stuff more pie down my throat? A beer maybe?" You make an attempt to change the subject as you head toward the bunker kitchen. Dean follows you. "Oh we are definitely talking about this. You don't even like beer." "Well, I'm thirsty. And someone has been drinking my wine faster than I can." "What can I say? You inspire the softer side of me." You try to ignore this comment, one of his many flirty remarks toward you. Was he staring at your "amazing butt" as you tried to get away? You definitely would be locked onto his backside if the roles were reversed. You reach for the orange juice, the one beverage outside of the consistently well-stocked beer arsenal in the Winchester fridge. Dean is so close on your heels, you bump into him when you turn around, the orange plastic juice jug hits his chest. It doesn't even faze him, he's like a dog with bone. "...Now back to the other night..." He says. You let out an involuntary groan while you sit a glass down at the table and pour. Now that you've finally stopped moving, he catches your gaze, keeping you hostage. He would be so pissed if you were doing this to him. But usually, he would consider what you said and you had to do the same. You didn't have to like it though. "Okay, you mean when we were at The Rusty Fork and I made a fool of myself? That place? That night? That's what you want to talk about?" "I knew it bothered you more than you let on! That hipster douche was just a drunk asshole and I took care of him." Whatever Dean said or did, didn't take away the sting you still felt. That jerk had been stealing your attention all night, talking to you, laughing at each other's jokes. You thought there was a connection. "I only remember the part where he admitted to talking to me just to get to my "hotter friend" aka the much taller and skinnier, Talaya." Talaya was a sweet girl, but when you were around her, you felt invisible, or worse. She even got Dean's attention. That hurt the most though you had no rights to him, technically. The facts were that you two were getting closer, he practically made you move into the bunker since the Wraith had killed your roommate, and he openly flirted with you. It all just watered your growing crush until your feelings bloomed into scary level of intensity. The only way forward was down, the only direction you expected any romantic attachment to Dean to have. And that night had been a huge learning experience. No one should go after someone who doesn't feel the same. It was emotional suicide. "You conveniently forgot some of the facts," Dean said. "Like that other douche you exchanged numbers and social media accounts, and who knows what else with early in the evening." "You mean Barry?" "Yeah, Barry. Another bearded, hipster that you were attached to, before the other stuff went down." "Well, we there was a lot to like there," you admit, sheepishly. "He's an illustrator, he has two cats - AND his apartment might be haunted by some ghost kid. So I got us a case as well.. I was working, multi-tasking." "Honeybunch, you were working it alright. And I had a front row seat." If you didn’t know better, you would think Dean was...jealous?! You had nearly forgotten about Barry, his sweetness was overshadowed by later events. Plus, you thought he was just being nice, nothing more. "We just played pool," you say defensively. "And he lost because he was so distracted by you." "First of all, he was just sucked at pool. And wait - how did you see everything? You were busy with Talaya." "Don't you know by now that I always keep my eyes on you? Nothing's going to happen to you on my watch." "Well, I wasn't in danger and you were pretty busy." Why was he challenging your memories, what was his point? "I don't trust anyone around you, especially at a bar. And Talaya - We drank and we talked. What else did you see?" It had been simple just minutes ago. Jerk Douche pretending to be interested in you but really wanting to meet Talaya. Jerk Douche calling Talaya "the hot one," to your utter embarrassment. Later, Dean left the bar with Talaya. Barry had been long gone and forgotten by then and you got out of there as fast as you could and into your own car. "You left with her!" You considered that your mike-drop and walked to the tv room, "Her friend that does Uber picked her up. She so was wasted. I just wanted to make sure she was okay. When I came back you were gone. How did you get pass me?" "I went out the back way." You sat your glass on the coffee table, and the two of you sat on the brown leather sofa that was more comfortable than it looked. "I called you! I even called Sam." Shit. He had called you. You didn't know until the next morning. You had been too embarrassed to bring it up. "I came home and saw you were in bed, got outta my clothes, and binge-watched Luke Cage until 4 in the morning." "Good show choice," you approved. You were a little distracted. The visual of Dean stripping off his clothes was fighting for attention. "So Dean...What are you trying to tell me?" "What I'm saying is don't feel bad, because of one fucker who doesn't deserve you anyway." "Thank you. That's very sweet." And you mean it, he's so serious and earnest about it, you accepted his compliment, for once. It seemed important to him. "Also, Confession Time: I'm doing it for myself. Heart problems run in my family and losing the weight helps. You know being around you guys is enough of a health risk!" "True that...So it's not about Bearded Douche? \”

“Nope. fuck him.” “Good. If that's what you want. I'll support it. I'm proud of you." “So you support me fucking him?” you play dumb. “Fuck no. I support your thing - your diet thingie. I want you to be around a long time.” You beam in the light of Dean's encouragement. There was one more thing that was bothering you though. "So who deserves me? I'm almost afraid of your answer!" He turns his body towards you. He took a moment to think and then said: "No one. “Ouch!” “No, silly. I mean you’re up here…” He lifted his hand in the air, above his head. “So I’m some cold bitch who’s destined to be alone?” “Jesus, will you stop looking for something negative, Woman?! The space between you gets smaller as he moves a few inches closer. “Look, the guy who always looks out for you….The guy who likes you right now, the way you are...The guy sitting here who wants to do some taste-testing on your lips...down your neck... travel to some other places, many other places. Maybe you can give him a shot?" You feel thoroughly chastised, and it is a good thing in this case. "Well, that guy should come over here so we can work this out." Then he's leaning into you, no more space between the two of you. It’s like a light switch went from dim to full light, bright, electric energy. He brings a hand to your back, works up to the nape of your neck, messages the sensitive skin there. His other hand slowly rubs your thigh. "How will you support me? I don't need the food police, okay?" You enjoy the delaying him a bit more. "Nah, Sam is good with the healthy eating. Now, me....Cardio is good for the heart, right?" "I believe so.” Your thinking is fuzzy, nothing insightful can get through now. "I'm sure I can get your heart rate up." "Show me," you whisper into his waiting lips as they hover over your own. "You sure you ready? I don't want you to quit on me, when things get nice and hard, and deep..." "I’m all in." You barely know what you’re saying anymore. "It's better if I show you." He demonstrates in the most convincing way possible. The kiss began slow and sensual, but only heightens your mutual thirst and hunger. "Aren't we skipping a few steps here?" You weakly protest between smooches. "We can stop now..." "No!" You said louder than you intended to... He smiles into your mouth, lips still attached to yours. Now I can teach you the rest of my workout program. We have to get these knees up first..." THE END.

@trexrambling @roxyspearing @babypieandwhiskey @hot-craving@mango-blogs @jensenhandsome @cravingrichonne

#dean x reader #dean winchester #dean fanfiction #dean x reader fanfic #supernatural #wanna bite #my humble fanfic offerings #happy halloween

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jerswife42 · 8 years ago

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Jason

Jason D . What he means to me? He's a great talker who likes to make conversation. And great at multi tasking as he looks the cute little redhead in the eyes dreaming of what her thoughts must be as she catches me looking at her. I'm thinking deeply in my mind: damn I'm so effin thirsty and I gotta do a couple things. So he suddenly leaves the room and the cute hot redhead girl who is so adorably blushing over her idea that he was daydreaming of her and how he just wishes she knew just how sexy she is. So he comes back into the room and she remembers his loving seduction stare and listens to music so she can mentally be where he wants her to be. He just came in to talk to her friend but still he stares like she's his queen. She doesn't look back cause she knows he's just wanting to hug her and he thinks to himself. The dog probably wants out. So she laughs thinking he finally likes her and she may get to be more friendly with him he invites her to his room . She thinks Cool my staring worked. He's wanting me to be his girl and he's gonna ask in private ya. He's going to feed his lizards but he stares at her . Cause she's in his vision area. Duh. So a week goes by and no redhead. But it don't bother this sexy blonde he has other things going on. So baby girl sits home all week letting Mr perfect have his space. And has to try to sleep without being next to him like he wants to be. Oh how he missed her. As he sleeps and plays with his dog all week. But she comes back like a annoying effin kitty cat and brings on the flirtation again. So he looks at her as a tease and he was actually thinking about what Noah was up to. She wonders if he ever dreams of her as he sleeps. He does all the time that's why he sleeps so he can be alone with her in his dreams. Yep

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misstinapie · 9 years ago

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My (Cheap) Kindle

After a hearty lunch at Buffalo Wings (Capitol Commons branch), we were so full we just had to take a very long walk. We ended up going to HMR for some bit of aircon (ber month and it's still hot can you believe it?). I've been there before once and wasn't impressed. There are just too many items that are either dusty or broken or old that I can't appreciate what's with the fuss. So anyway, I told the boyfriend I was thirsty so we dropped by at Tasty Tucker (oohhh they've renovated the place, it's now so posh!) for a quick drink. When we're done, he spotted the closed area for gadgets and suggested we look. I have nothing in mind at that time but my eye caught a box with a weird price. I asked to check the item and was obliged. OMG, that Kindle Paperwhite is so effin' cheap! I was told that they get regular shipments of this and the cautious me was finding everything so unreal, yet at the same time urgently agreed to buy the item and paid for it as soon as I was handed the order slip. We got home, updated the firmware, made an Amazon account, added ebooks and it still works! Come Monday and I showed it to my office friends who own different types of Kindle and what do you know, they are astonished as I was! I could not believe this luck!! It's not fake, the gadget have no signs of usage and the store clearly knew the price is correct (even the USB cable had a 790 php tag). So what gives? I have already thought of it for so much I'm now like, WHO CARES?!! At this point I'm just happy I was there at the right time. Even my bf is jealous and wanted to find his own bargain. I think I'm going to part ways with my Ipad2 now, I'm not using it anyway, and reading with it is such a bore I ended up playing games with it, not to mention it's too heavy when I'm lying down. Now the only problem I have is getting a real Kindle sleeve WHICH as far as I've researched cost to a thousand, and I refuse to get a case much more expensive than the actual gadget! That's one ridiculous problem I'm glad to have.

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ecotone99 · 5 years ago

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[FN] Man in a Box - LUDIMΔGIK

I guess I'm as good a place to start as any. When I say "I" I don't mean the guy who was just speaking to you in the Introduction. I'm Chance, King of Queens. Is my name really Chance? Yes, but I’m not a rapper. Am I really a king? Yes, of the Queens of Kings. I don't want to tell you my real name. Where I’m from, everyone knows me as Chance. And by everyone I mean by you. Not "you," you but yeah, well, you. You from another time and dimension. You in another time and dimension know me—in another time and dimension. BUT before you roll your eyes and return to Facebook or Twitter, or, I don't know, TMZ? (Do people still use Gawker at this point? I'm still getting acclimated.), I know what I said sounds crazy. I know. And, while I do acknowledge that this might put this little story in the "fantasy" genre of your mind, I do encourage you to bear with me, because— because—actually, screw it! Ha! I can see already that most of you barely made it through the last guy's ramblings. Now this?! Well I'll have you know that I did not exactly ask to be in this position either, but here we are, with me in your hands! If you want to close me like a window, then do it! I was already out the door anyhow! But if you close that window, and I close that door, with me on the other side of it, we could be trapped! As I don't think we'll make much use of that hole in the wall, like with Pyramus and Thisbe, one of us would ruin this love affair!

Excuse me. I—I lost myself for a moment there. I think it knew I was talking to you. Whatever “it” is. That seems to be happening, ever since I got here. For one, I don’t mix metaphors. Often. And who the heck is Primus von Frisbee?

I’ll be honest. It’s exhausting. Did it work on you? The reverse psychology? The scare tactic? It got me before. You could stop, you know. You could stop reading. Possibly it’ll be too much. Possibly it’ll be too confusing. I can’t though. I’m stuck here. There’s no turning back. Is the desperation evident? I. am. thirsty. Burning up. You see, I'm really not used to this. Where I'm from, I'm a star. Like, I don't know. I can't say who I'm like because I'm just me. It'd be like if George Clooney suddenly said, "Who am I? I'm like Bradley Cooper." We'd all be like, "Um, what are you talking about, George Clooney? Are you okay? You're both very essential, incredibly sexy, talented m—theatre par excellence—you—" okay maybe this isn't the best example. But you get it. You got it, right? Ugh. It'd be like if Meryl Streep said, "I'm like Leo Messi!" (Though, come to think, she probably could play Leo in a movie on or on the field, the woman can do anything. Good point. Well, a point. Okay, focus! Me, Chance. I'm like...who am I like?) So I guess, in a way, where I’m from I'm like Andy Warhol, but more awkward? Or maybe more like a not-so-genius Leonardo da Vinci? Without the impeccable charisma, smoking body and that whole Renaissance-man quality that he was known for. Wow! Really not selling this well here. I’m like—I’m like an innovative Norman effing Rockwell, okay! Just—kind of commenting on and changing the times through painting, you know? I’m me! Just me. Imagine you, famous, and you’ll more or less get me. Does that make sense? Yes? No? Anyone?

Gah! It's so hard! You see, how can I explain to you that you already like me? Most of you, anyway. How can I explain that others before you, your ancestors, already have? (Some, not so much.) I guess I really can't, can I? I'll just have to show you. I'll just have to tell you about what happened in my dimension. How it's differed from yours.

In my dimension, the tension…the tension is very different. Kind of funny but, in my dimension Twitter banned Donald Trump from using the site during the middle of his presidential campaign (for obvious reasons) and he lost. But not because of being banned from Twitter. He wasn’t even a contender. I’m not going to go into all the details now, but the history of the USA during the last twenty years has been immensely different, because in the year 2000 of my dimension George W. Bush suffered a serious heart attack on Election Day and did not move to halt the recounting of Florida’s votes in the Supreme Court, which ultimately secured Al Gore the electoral college votes needed for victory.

For the past several years we’ve been turning methane released from livestock into renewable energy. Which sounds like some wacky Willy Wonka nonsense, I know, but US scientists collaborated with researchers in Argentina who had already developed a similar technology on a smaller scale, and together they made a device capable of extracting the gas out of the atmosphere. The federal government actually incentivized farmers to use the technology to make money. And there’s a lot of new building going on, even skyscrapers covered in plants. Companies also extracting carbon from the atmosphere. Landfills which double as power plants but are treated so they don’t release toxic chemicals…that triple as city attractions and tourist destinations. All of that is barely happening here, if at all. It’s kind of surreal to witness your world; it’s almost the opposite of mine. Partly due to Gore convincing one conservative billionaire (whom I’ll not name) that the future could and should be green, and that the moment was the optimal time to invest. Of course, it was the story of it that made any difference. The headline was enough to freeze the country’s broken, partisaned ice and allow politicians and private interest to skate to greener pastures, or whatever. I should add, by the way, that I’m not even some big environmentalist nerd. I mean, I care! I’m just telling you how it’s different in my place and time.

Regarding the small stuff, I really don't need to spend paragraphs describing it. Celebrity gossip is all kind of the same, isn’t it? You’re probably more curious as to how I got here, from another dimension. Or why? Lean close to the screen, let me tell you a secret. (I’m not doing that.) The secret is: I have no effin’ idea! Like, did I die? I passed out one night and I woke up in another version of me. How would you feel if you woke up in your body, but it wasn’t yours, and you couldn’t even talk or control it? You just sit there and watch this…buffoon of yourself go about all day mucking just about everything up. Barely getting a word in. I feel like I’m stuck inside a copy of myself here, is what I’m saying, a version of me in serious need of an upgrade. I feel like I’m on layaway. I’m half-convinced I’m dreaming. I’m struggling more than a bit, truth be told. You can probably tell, I don’t have a lot of answers. Really, very few. I’m kind of just rolling with it? Low-key losing my mind a bit but in a really controlled way. Maybe I just have to do something here, then I can go. Complete some task. I don’t know. What I do know is that one tiny BIG difference between your dimension and mine is me. Why does that matter? I think part of what's brought me here is the same thing that brought you to where you are now, that which brings us such joy yet so often gets in our way of passions pursued and unrealized alike. Any guesses as to what it is? I'll give you two hints. It doesn't grow on trees and it makes the world go round.

You guessed it! Love! You can't buy it, ya know. (Oh, and the money was a bit of a problem, too.) You see, in your dimension, a battle never occurred. A king was taken prisoner, in a sense, before it could. The me who used to inhabit this body solely, before I arrived. I guess I should give him a name, shouldn't I? To make this easier. We'll call the pre-Me me "Alex." Yeah. I like that. Alexander! It sounds honorable enough. Alex, he was a good guy. Is, I should say. I mean he's not gone. I’m Alex. I’m Alex from another dimension, one in which he had a lot less problems and did a lot more painting. He’s here. I, Chance, am an altogether different Alex, an Alex he could have been if he had gotten the...well, hopefully you're starting to get it. I don't know what to tell ya. Go back and reread, or I don't know, ask a friend. As for Alex, that cruel, blind love struck him at his core, just once in his life (his faulty tortoise shell never was very thick). Boy, did it mess with his brain. By the time it was finished with him, he was writhing on unable to get on his feet again and finish the race.

Because of love, because of a card in the deck remained blank. A king card was missing, never entered a battle. It was reshuffled, reshuffled, from one relationship to the next, one job to the next, one drink to the next. One joint, one cigarette. Then reshuffled some more. And yea I feel I should make it clear that when I say shuffle I mean drink, drink...drunk. Alex’s dream of being a novelist

Unfortunately, for Alex—let's see. How can I phrase this with self-compassion? We're a mixed bag. The roller-coaster ride was fun before it coasted right off the tracks. Or maybe it was that at a certain point Alex "forgot" to pull the safety bar down tight enough. And maybe the ride safety inspector was careless, carefully so. In the realm of looks, let's just say we’re kind of handsome and kind of ugly. In the realm of personality, a real fly guy and hella awkward. Brains? Smart enough to be writing this and dumb enough to be writing this. (And don't forget the dose of crazy!) What else? Virtue? Check +! In the realm of physical prowess? We’re the crouching tiger and the hidden dragon, caged at the zoo. We’re part beauty, part beast. Finally found, but so lost here. Y'all, there's giant wave about to lurch out of this great big length of ocean, and we’re just as liable to get carried away with it as you are. How do you see us, though? That strange, magical interplay between your mind, body and soul: how does it reflect us back to you?

Maybe if I let Alex explain it will help. OH. But first there's an important detail I'm leaving out. These "dream battles"—Rounds—in our story affect the real world in real ways, all too real. You know how you go to sleep and dream about the events and people of the past? Maybe about your problems, worries, sexual repressions...the subconscious is a jungle and the machete that is your conscious allows very limited access to it, for most of us. It's different with the Players in our story. Whereas most of us dream with little control over our actions in them, the outcome of their dreams, which they navigate with lucidity, can affect our culture, our politics, our every day to day. Success for these stars in the Ludimagik realm translates to success in the real world.

But Alex? Poor Alex. He never stood a chance. It’s almost as if the Universe said, what an infant, he’ll never grow up, and so it set about making him cry. Of course, he didn’t exactly make anything easier on himself, either. Let me ask you: How often do you remember your dreams if you get hammered, if that's an occurrence for you at all? Much less know that you're dreaming and control the dream? How much do you think your brain is developing, as it does throughout our twenties, when it's constantly being drenched in booze and beer? We're here to tell you: not as much as if you're living right, not by a long shot. For the longest time he had no clue that he could dream with any lucidity. And he’s still doesn’t have the full picture.

See, without saying too much yet, what I can tell you is that a good deal of people know a lot more about Alex than he does. They have been trying to orchestrate his fate, manipulating him into playing their games. Exploit what he doesn’t know. Or maybe they think he’s a bad guy. I don’t know. It’s pretty messed up when you think about all he’s been through. But hey—power corrupts! Someone’s got to have it.

In his defense, had the “demon” of alcoholism not gotten to him, things would be different. I’m proof of that. It’s hard to fight something you can’t see. The point is that drinking, getting drunk, every day, for years, up until the point when he nearly died, afforded him no second thoughts about dreaming. He’s getting there, though. Soon, he’ll play Ludimagik. Soon, he’ll be just aware, as soon you will be, of what he is capable of building, of creating.

Shall we meet Alex? Just be warned: he’s a little—what’s that word we heard the other day?—”extra.” But that’s just me. Here, decide for yourself.

Continue reading here.

See the previous section, the Introduction, here.

Please share and subscribe if you enjoy. Thanks for reading.

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ecotone99 · 5 years ago

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[FN] LUDIMΔGIK - Man in a Box

Shall we meet Alex? Just be warned: he’s a little—what’s that word we heard the other day?—”extra.” But that’s just me. Here, decide for yourself.

Continue reading here.

See the previous section, the Introduction, here.

Please share and subscribe if you enjoy. Thanks for reading.

submitted by /u/nick_boatwright [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2Noqo6m

#Blogger #Story

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ecotone99 · 5 years ago

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[FN] LUDIMΔGIK -- "One: Introductions"

Shall we meet Alex? Just be warned: he’s a little—what’s that word we heard the other day?—”extra.” But that’s just me. Here, decide for yourself.

Continue reading here.

See the previous section, the Introduction, here.

submitted by /u/nick_boatwright [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2R9B89z

#Blogger #Story

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