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letsgobarbs · 22 days ago

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Crying Cryptids & Canoodling Cupids

Pairing: Javi Gutiérrez x Plus Size F!Reader

Prompt: Javi G + “What cryptid are you trying to be, Mothman’s cousin?”

Summary: Javi is having a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day. Scratch that. He was having a terrible week, a horrible month, a no-good year, and just, a general, very bad time. He was convinced this movie was going to end his filmmaking career. Nobody will ever want to see any of his work again. It was shit. And there was nothing he could do about it. And he might have just made the sweetest woman cry— someone he is so sure is his soulmate.

Warnings: Fatphobia, no smut for you nasties… okay maybe just a little hint because I couldn't resist, just a mention of it though.

A/N: This is for the PPCUVDAY event organised by @peepawispunk Is it Valentine’s Day? No. Is it even February yet? No. But I spun the wheel and got a prompt and a fic manifested. So we all get this— as a little treat. It is a classic Soulmate AU, where the first words your soulmate will say to you appear tattooed on your body.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Javi had always been quick to temper. He had just learned to never express it, because that was an invitation for being hit— or worse with Lucas. But now he wanted to throw a veritable tantrum— fuck the consequences.

The headset around his neck was strangling him, the usual soft feel and comforting weight of it was replaced by a crawling sensation that made him want to jump out of his skin. He wanted to tear the script resting on his thigh into tiny, minuscule, little pieces and shower it into the air— the corner of the paper was scratching at the exposed skin of his knee, yet another irritant that was making his leg restlessly jump. He needed to jump off a cliff and into a cool body of water. Step away, reset.

Too bad none of them would be getting that. This was supposed to be a movie. He was supposed to be a director. But all this was shaping up to be was a circus and he wasn’t even the ringmaster, he was a sad little monkey walking on stilts and jumping through hoops. Even worse, he was letting all the other sad little monkeys who had faith in him down.

It was his first time trying to make a horror movie— an intense, realistic, gritty psychological horror that offered a poignant insight into both the good and the evil in the nature of mankind. The script had been good. Lucien and Dieter were giving some of the most honest and amazing performances of their careers setting them both up for the greatest comeback after their stint in rehab. The crew was good, he had worked with these people before.

But then the producers started cutting costs and the real horror show had begun. They had terrorised the crew— changed the lighting, equipment, locations, costumes until it looked more like Cliff Beasts 7: Fellowship of the Furious– Journey to a Stranger Tide or something. They had even shooed in a heroine who wasn’t even in the script, naturally, the script had to be rewritten. He just wished she could act…

He had wrapped up filming yesterday after more than twenty takes on one of her simple scenes, making do with the shot of her actually remembering her lines even though they were delivered like she was acting on a Disney sitcom. Javi wished he could wrap up today as well, they were all exhausted from several demanding scenes and it wasn’t shaping up to be any better for her but they were running so behind schedule. Moreover, the costume and make-up department had worked so hard to put her in the monster get-up, they owed it to the crew to at least try. The original script didn’t even have a monster.

She did look monstrous but for all the wrong reasons. She looked huge, hulking at a little over seven feet, covered in bronze armour— why did they have to add big boobs to the metal? There were two giant wings behind her, confusingly made of feathers instead of metal like the rest of her costume. They had given her two fuzzy antennas that reminded him of oversized spruce twigs or moths. The armour was far too big for her he thought with a wince; sure the monster was supposed to represent corporate greed but making it fat was just wrong.

The most placid, emotionless garbled noises rang out of the giant tin can; Javi tried to unclench his jaw, hiding his expression behind a tight fist. His chest racked with effort to draw in a large breath. That’s it, he’s done.

“CUT!!” He roared. The script fell off his lap as he stood from his chair. Javi could feel the anger flooding over the dam he had built; he could feel it prickle in his throat like dry smoke, taste its bitterness on his tongue.

“WHAT CRYPTID ARE YOU TRYING TO BE, MOTHMAN’S COUSIN? Because woooow, that was really fucking pathetic.” He seethed as he maintained eye contact with the two large red bulbs for eyes on her helmet.

Javi whirled around to face the freelancer from the costume department before the actress could fight him, “And WHY IS SHE SO FUCKING BIG?”

There was a collective, shocked gasp on set as everyone stared at him in abject horror. Javi was panting now, still overwhelmed with rage while Dieter scowled at him a dark, menacing look on his face.

“Dude—” But Dieter was interrupted by a dog. A squeaking, whimpering dog. Oh my god, there was a chihuahua in the tin can. For a horribly brief moment, he wondered if he would find multiple dogs stacked together under that armour, it would certainly explain the bad acting. Everyone quietly stood around as the crying continued in quiet keens and puppyish whines.

“Hey, don’t cry—” Dieter cooed at her. Since when was he so nice to her?

His giant cryptid lifted the visor of her helmet, red bulb eyes, moth antenna and all. Javi peered up into the sweetest face that certainly did not belong to the lead of his movie. Fuck. Her face was covered in a glistening sheen of sweat and tears; she looked down at him with glassy eyes and brows furrowed with hurt. She made a strange eep sound as she tried to hold back more of her sobs— it drew his attention to the most kissably pouty lips. They wobbled from the emotional strain. Javi felt like a despicable cur.

“You’re the worst.” She whispered. Her voice choked with tears. And he felt his heart break. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, he didn’t even know who she was.

The pretty cryptid clunked out of there, her feathery wing slapping him across the face— as he deserved. Javi felt the embarrassment curl in his stomach for her, poor girl deserved a more graceful exit but instead, the costume sounded like pots and pans clanging around in the utensil cabinet while she fruitlessly tried to manoeuvre around the set pieces; the noise grated on his ears and made his teeth itch. The shrill, brassy clashing sound of metals abruptly turned into a loud thunk and a crash as she fell just a few steps away from the exit. A mean, taunting little giggle rang from some corner breaking everyone out of their reverie.

Lucien reaches her first, gently helping her to sit while the assistant he had just screamed at tried to remove the stilts from under her feet. Javi moves to rush forward, she must have hurt herself in the fall.

But Dieter held him back, “Give it a moment, you’ll only upset her more.”

She did seem pretty upset, her face had darkened but her eyes were impassive she barely responded to Lucien as he soothingly comforted her. The sight of her blank look was tugging at his heart, he just wanted to cradle her face in his hands, wipe her tears and smooth away the hurt. He settled for doing the next best thing and gave a terse command to finish up for the day.

Javi noticed her painful grimace as Lucien helped her to stand, making a mental note to make sure she saw a doctor; he would pay any of the medical bills. For now, he helplessly watched, a strange caustic feeling blistering under his skin— it wasn’t anger, not quite. But he disliked the way his arm wrapped around her waist, or how her arm was seeking support on his shoulder as she stumbled farther away from him. Javi thought De Leon was being a bit pretentious.

Oh fuck, you’re the worst.

You loved cryptids. Halloween was your favourite time of the year; every year since you were fourteen you had dressed up as various cryptids. Your interest had spiralled from just Halloween costumes to owning a shelf full of books about cryptids, a wall covered in newspaper clippings of cryptid sightings and stories; your family and friends would gift you cryptid clothing and accessories on Christmas— your favourite being the bright blue Nessie ladle in your kitchen drawer and a Kraken tentacle ring which was always wrapped around your finger. You even owned several monster sex toys; you had your favourites there too— a silicone tentacles dildo with amazing bumps and suction cups along its length, and a neon green and purple vibrating monster cock with the most delicious ridges.

It had all started with a small birthmark just to the side of your calf muscles, which spread across your skin as you grew up forming the first sentence your soulmate would say to you. What cryptid are you trying to be, Mothman’s cousin?

You had imagined so many ways your soulmate would say that to you; maybe it would be a pretty girl striking up a conversation at the local cosplay event, or perhaps a cute guy flirting at a Halloween party, or someone sweet and sly who would playfully tease you about your outfit of choice.

Most people do not end up finding their soulmates, but you were so convinced you would find yours one day. Because your line was so detailed, while others had a variation of hi, hello, hey, good morning— something so mundane their soulmate could be anybody. There were even shows that helped people with commonplace soulmate tattoos find their life partner— the current contestant on The Bachelor’s Soulmate was a pilot whose tattoo read, “Hey, what can I get started for you today?”

People with tattoos of greetings could never be sure they ended up with their true soulmate you’d watched a TLC show about them. And now, more than ever, you wished you had one of those boring soulmate tattoos. Never in your life had you imagined the words from your tattoo would be shouted at you, followed by being called pathetic and then he’d called you fat— fucking huge. You burst into more tears at the thought, muffling your sobs against your fingers.

Lucien wiped your tears again, gently dabbing a tissue to your cheeks. You wished he wouldn’t hover, you just wanted to be left alone. You know he is trying to be kind— mostly out of guilt your mind whispered to you. Which wasn’t true… even if it was, it didn’t matter. He hadn’t always been kind, you had worked with him when he was still struggling with his drinking issue. He was mean and had almost cost you your job once. He was nicer now that he was sober, or at least more aware of the people around him. You were happy for him.

“You know he didn’t mean it that way…” He murmured.

It didn’t matter whether he meant it or not. You had decided you didn’t want him. Someone not being with their soulmates was unheard of, because why would anybody reject a person that was made, curated, for you by the universe. But the truth was Javi Gutiérrez did not want you— not really. He thought you were fat and pathetic.

Your heart still clenched every time you thought about his words. And even if he was mysteriously accepting about him being your soulmate, and instantly fell in love with you because you were perfect for him or he loved your super cool personality, you would always know, in the back of your mind, that he hadn’t wanted you. In the quietest, most intimate moments with him, a mean little voice would be the loudest and it would always remind you that you were just thrust upon him by the universe. But had the choice been his, it wouldn’t be you.

This was Hollywood, most of the time it didn’t matter how nice and sweet you were, men would always go for the prettiest, sexiest woman— then too nobody over a size 6 and very rarely somebody who was a size 8 but only if they liked curves. You had met Javi’s ex-girlfriend Gabriela who works for a different production company, she was not only tall and gorgeous but also very very sweet and sassy. She was perfect.

You were just some low-level production assistant, running errands, printing scripts, fetching coffees and meals, cleaning up the set and trailers, chauffeuring actors to and from the set. Often it was the assistant directors or the other team leaders passing forward instructions. Even when Javi had introduced himself to the crew, you had made yourself scarce because the sight of him had made you so flustered and tongue-tied— you just hadn’t wanted to make a fool of yourself.

He was far too beautiful— all sun-kissed skin and soft curls. Every time you delivered something to him, you would quickly scurry away before he even had the chance to thank you because of how nervous he made you. You didn’t think you would last if he looked at you with those puppy eyes and spoke to you with that accented voice. He was endlessly kind and polite with everyone on set. You would be an idiot to not want him.

So maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t your soulmate at all. That would make the most sense. You tried to think of the first thing you had ever said to him, your mind sadly pulling a blank. Perhaps, his soulmate tattoo read something you had never said. And there was someone else out there for you who was waiting to ask you what type of cryptid you were trying to be. Your heart lurched at the thought of him not being yours— the idea that he could be was so irresistible that it physically hurt to believe otherwise.

A cough disrupted the air, you looked up to see Javi standing by the entrance of the trailer giving you a shy, toothy smile. You instinctively smiled back at him, too distracted by how violently your heart was flutteringly— you felt queasy like you were hanging onto that single lock of hair curling over his forehead as it swung with the evening air. So, you didn’t notice the two men share a charged look and tense smile before Lucien softly patted your head and made his way out.

Javi had the warmest, twinkling brown eyes, sweet and innocent. You had dreamed about how that plush bottom lip would feel between yours, on your skin, on your pussy.

Stop it, you stupid slut.

He was probably here to scold you for being in front of the camera and taking the heroine’s place. But it was not your fault! She had begged you to do it, said it wasn’t that big of a deal since they didn’t need to see her face in the scene and they could voice over her lines post-production— it’s just monster noises and screeching anyway.

Initially, you hadn’t wanted to do it because you didn’t trust her intentions but she had it cleared with the producers as well. They said you would be just like a stand-in. Then you had seen the silly monster costume, it was so bad— but it had the Mothman eyes and antenna. And you couldn’t resist because of the soulmate tattoo. You had thought, what if this was how you found your soulmate?

“Hey, are you okay?” His teeth were so straight, smile so adorable— it made his eyes squint, one closing just slightly more than the other in a way that made your stomach contract. And that nose… the bold slope of it was downright salacious.

UGH, shut up, don’t be a whore. Have some self-respect. He doesn’t want you. He doesn’t want you. He doesn’t want you. Fat and Pathetic. Fat and Pathetic.

“Yeah, I’m okay…” You furtively glanced around the trailer, hoping that not looking at him would make you feel less overwhelmed.

“That’s good, I think I’m your soulmate.” He stated in a calm voice followed by a warm, awkward chuckle. But his hands were trembling, and he rubbed them along his thighs.

“Um, no. You’re not.” You croaked, refusing to meet his eyes as you lied to him.

“No, let me show you.” He pulled off his shirt revealing broad, tanned shoulders. You wanted to lick the freckles that dusted over his skin there, kiss the ones that dotted his neck.

He lifted his hand straight up and showed you a string of letters that ran up his underarm. You couldn’t make sense of them at first, they looked like keyboard smash starting from his forearm; some of them were capitalised, some letters lowercase, a few of them had accents on them and some of them were even ligatures.

Then he started pronouncing them in a strange whimpering, squeaking voice. And you wanted to scream. Or laugh. Was he trying to imitate your crying? You knew you weren’t a pretty crier but he made you sound almost… endearing. Especially when he tentatively looked at you with those aggrieved eyes of a kicked puppy. He whispered the last of the words as the letters disappeared into his armpit— you’re the worst.

You tried not to visibly flinch. Were those really your first words to him? How horrible to carry those words on your body for your whole life. He looked so guilty and ashamed, lines formed between his brows and the creases in his forehead deepened in distress.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to say those awful words to you.” His gaze on you was steady and sincere, begging you to believe him.

You swallowed, feeling an anxious tightness in your chest. You surged through before you could change your mind.

“Sorry, but I don’t think you’re my soulmate.” You insisted, looking down at his knees, they were so close to yours. He was sitting in the seat facing you, and suddenly the trailer seemed much smaller. You could smell him— open oceans, sweet citrus, hints of something minty and herby lavender.

“Oh, what does your tattoo say? Can I see it?” The disappointment in his voice nestled just under your ribs, painfully digging into your heart.

“It says hello.” You lied.

“That’s great! I must��ve said hello to you.” He perked up at the possibility. Eyes radiant with joy again. He hadn’t said hello, but that wasn’t his fault. It was ironic but you had mastered the art of being invisible— despite your size.

“No, you didn’t… You said Hi.” At least, he would have if you hadn’t evaded him at all times, mooning over him from afar.

“Noooo… I must’ve said hello— I mean hi, hey, hello. So hard to remember, I said hello. I’m sure.” He argued. You tried not to cry.

You weren’t so insecure. Sure, being the weird chubby kid who liked cryptids wasn’t easy. But you had grown up— learned to love your body. Today just… wasn’t a good day. You felt raw, vulnerable and humiliated. You’d taken off the costume but couldn’t forget how unflattering it had made you feel, and that mean little giggle was still ringing in your ears. Your mind was also regurgitating his harsh words.

She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. And she insisted she wasn’t his soulmate.

Javi couldn’t take his eyes off her face. Well, he could, but then he would be looking at the way her t-shirt stretched over those lovely boobs, or the cinch of her waist before her form generously curved into the most delectable hips— he could almost picture the way his fingertips would disappear in her flesh if he gripped her. Shut up, this is so wildly inappropriate.

He balled his shirt on his lap to hide the hard-on he was sporting in his shorts, sitting in only his white, sleeveless undershirt. His heart was racing, and he could feel the heat climbing up the back of his neck. He had been so convinced she was his soulmate. He still felt like she was lying to him, but why? Did she not want him?

It would be understandable, not a lot of people wanted him. He was just a geeky film nerd who talked about movies until everyone around him was bored and exasperated. He wasn’t strong, or cool, or dashing. Sure, a lot of people flirted with him now but he wouldn’t delude himself into thinking they wanted anything more than his money. He was the kind of guy who took years to stand up to his cousin. At most, he was cute. But why would this goddess want him when she could have Lucien De Leon.

Not even Gabriela had wanted him and they had known each other since they were kids. They both had realised very quickly that while they cared for each other, their relationship had been based on loneliness and scarcity. He had liked her because she was the only one on the compound who had been genuinely nice to him— she was his only friend. And she had liked him because he was the only decent, non-violent man in the international criminal organisation.

They had long broken up when Gabriela had found her soulmate. He wished them all the happiness in the world, she deserved it. Because he would have never survived without her— not even in Hollywood. She had been the one dealing with the production companies for him. Fuck, and now he had to deal with one on his own.

Javi looked at the woman before him, she seemed so lovely and kind. He wanted her to be his soulmate. For years, he had been terrified his soulmate would be someone Lucas had kidnapped, hurt or harmed. He was always afraid he wouldn’t be able to save them— why else would someone call him the worst?

Well, it had finally happened, out of his own stupidity too. He hadn’t even known they were using one of the production assistants as a stand-in. The producers had conveniently left him out of the loop for a lot of things. Dieter had informed him how his lead actress was the daughter of the man who owned their production company; she’d joined the movie for a chance with Lucien. And had planned this whole fiasco as a horrible prank when she had lost his attention to this enticing woman in front of him. Javi briefly wondered if he should tell her that the lead actress was trying to bully her.

He watched her squirm in her seat, rearranging her legs so her knees pressed together and turned slightly away from his. He tried very hard not to think about the way her thighs flattened and spread on the seat under her, because then his mind would provide him with the lewd images of the same thighs framing his face, their weight on his shoulder, his teeth sinking into the soft inside— marking her, tasting her.

She folded her arms over her stomach, her hand comfortingly stroking her upper arm. Was she cold? Because Javi was feeling overheated. He subconsciously wiped his temple, finding a light coating of sweat there. He couldn’t see the soft swell of her belly anymore, which meant he really shouldn’t be thinking about pressing his fingers into her warm skin there and pinching, twisting the flesh to watch it mould around his unruly touch— her waist would roll and twist to escape him, she would probably softly gasp, her eyes wide and aggrieved.

She awkwardly cleared her throat, and it snapped his attention to her face. Her lips were pursed as she glanced around the trailer. He really hoped she hadn’t noticed him staring at her like a creep.

“That’s a nice T-shirt”—he looked down at her top, relieved that it was indeed a T-shirt—“Loveland Frogman? It’s almost Valentine’s Day, isn’t it?” There, he was just looking at her top and totally not having any inappropriate thoughts about her body. But he loved the way ‘Loveland’ stretched over those tits. Fuck.

The T-shirt fit snugly over her sweetly rounded shoulders. Javi felt his teeth itch with the desire to bite down on them. She watched him, confused and bewildered at the abrupt change in topic, before glancing down at her T-shirt as if she hadn’t realised what she was wearing.

“Oh, um, Loveland is a place. It’s in Ohio, Frogman is their local cryptid. But turned out it was just a giant three-foot-something iguana. I got the shirt when I watched a musical about it. There’s also a found footage horror movie about it with this absolutely bonkers ending— Sorry, I’m rambling— anyways, are you going to fire me?”

“What? No. No. Of course not.” She had the most charming twinkle in her eyes. He would set fire to the set before firing her.

“Today was entirely my fault”—He felt shame coat his throat, and his next words came subdued and choked—“I’m a shit director—”

“No, you’re not. You are an amazing director. You have a very clear vision for the film, and you’re able to communicate and explain that vision. You won’t believe how many directors just can’t explain what they want. You give the actors enough creative license to explore their characters instead of demanding they do as you tell them to. You respect the crew and everyone’s time, so many directors just treat us like we’re servants to be taken for granted. You’re passionate about your work. You’re a film lover, and you enjoy watching other people’s work. I love that you are still exploring your own visual and story-telling style. I mean, it is easy to tell where you get your inspirations but you still make it so intrinsically yours—”

Her lips were sweet and warm. Javi hadn’t been able to hold himself back and swooped over to kiss her. She was tense for a moment before her lips softened and melted against his. He kissed her slowly at first, selfishly, it wasn’t because he wanted to put her at ease or make her comfortable. He was in disbelief that he was kissing her or that she was letting him in the first place.

She nibbled on his lower lip, and Javi felt himself whimper into her mouth. He cradled her face, pushing closer to her as he licked the corner seam where her lips connected. He was addicted to the divot of her cupid’s bow, the swoop of her lower lip, and the maddening way she was tracing the shape of his lips.

“You don’t want this.” She whispered against his lips. And Javi simply angled her face again before slotting his lips over hers once more. She moaned against him, and he heard a soft, answering groan rise from his chest as he kissed deeper into her, exploring the curve of her palate, the gummy lining of her mouth, and the fascinating way the top of her tongue was different in texture to the side of it. He couldn’t remember wanting anything more.

He was unwilling to part with her even with their mutual need for air, Javi continued kissing her, worshipping just her lips, showering them with tender pecks and kisses. He felt her warm breath fan across his cheek, and the wild beating of her pulse under his hand. He had never been one for overly sweet things, but he could taste something sugary on her— maybe she’d had some chocolate, or honey, or maybe a candy. Whatever it was, he couldn’t get enough of it, he was hankering for more.

His lips slipped from hers as they both panted for breath, pressing affectionate kisses to the side of her lips, her cheek, her jaw and another just under it. He noticed her take a deep shuddering breath, eyes still closed as he touched his forehead to hers, noses grazing each other. She smelled of soap, freshly laundered clothes, and something uniquely her.

Her eyes fluttered open, and he felt his breath hitch; they were a world unto themselves. He memorised the pattern of her irises, the variation in their colour; he admired the fuzzy line of her pupils, the curve of her eye line and the length of her lashes. She looked so adorably befuddled, her eyes wet and glazed over— he could almost see himself reflected in them. Javi caressed the apple of her cheek with his thumb.

“We should take you to the doctor’s…”

“Huh?” Javi chuckled at her confused state.

“For your leg, I noticed you hurt yourself when you fell.” He reminded her.

“Oh, no, I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt that much, and I took a shower so I ran some warm water over it and it feels better already.” She was gripping onto the fabric of her skirt; she still looked a little uncertain, as if searching for something in his eyes. He gave a wide beam, but her smile was shy and tentative. Wait.

“You showered in Lucien’s trailer?” He didn’t mean for it to, but the question came out a bit accusing. It wasn’t his business where she showered. Except that he had just kissed her, and he wanted to do more. Did she want more as well?

“Well, yeah, he offered. And there isn’t a shower in the employee tent so I took him up on the offer. The armour made me so sweaty and sticky— wait… Why did you ask it like that?”

“No reason.” Except for the fact that she was exactly the type of pretty thing Lucien would like to sink his claws into— his other parts too for that matter. He felt an uncharacteristic sting spread through the walls of his heart like his own blood was astringent. He was jealous.

“Are you and him…”

“No, God, no. We’re not—”

“So, do you want to go on a date with me?”

She stared at him for several long moments, looking like a deer caught in headlights and her mouth agape. Silence stretched between them— an awkward, flustered kind. Her eyes quivered, as if she might cry. And Javi wanted to stuff the words back into his mouth. He was so stupid.

She had kissed him back, but otherwise, she had not touched him at all. He was the director of the movie, her boss. She probably felt like she had to accept his advances. He leaned as far away from her as possible, too disgusted with himself to notice the way her face fell in disappointment and tears brimmed her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, you don’t need to feel—”

“Why even kiss me if you’re not attracted to me? Was it some kind of a prank?” Her voice was pained, she sniffled. His heart broke at the way she was looking at him— like he had broken her heart.

“I am attracted to you… that’s why I’m asking you out.”

“I’m not your soulmate. You called me fat and pathetic!” She raised her voice in indignation.

“I did not!” Javi hotly defended himself. They were both riled up now. He would never.

“Yes, you did. You called me fucking huge.” Her words knocked the wind out of his sails. She scowled at him with angry, resentful eyes. He thought back to his outburst on set, grimacing as he recollected his words.

“I meant that you were almost eight feet tall. And the armour was purposely made too big and unflattering, it just wasn’t right for a monster that represents corporate greed.”

“Well, you still called me pathetic—”

“I thought you were the lead actress and those were some of the most lacklustre, pitiful monster noises in the history of cinema—”

“It wasn’t my fault they said they would voice over it and I should be quieter.”

They both took several large breaths before Javi slipped down his seat and knelt at her feet, gently prying her skirt from her fists and taking her hands in his.

“I’m sorry. I was an idiot.” He watched the tension fall from her shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze to her hands. She huffed a small, conceding little laugh.

“It’s okay.”

“Will you at least let me take a look at your leg?” He inquired.

Javi felt relieved to see a smile grace her features again, the light in her eyes made him feel warm. And he gingerly clasped her ankle in his hand as soon as she had nodded his permission.

“Tell me if it hurts,” He said as he pressed and massaged around her ankles first and then her feet, twisting it one way and then another— noticing the wince on her face even when she didn’t verbalise her pain. Finally, he moved up her leg, pressing to check for any tenderness or pain. He gently eased her socks down her calf to check for any swelling or bruises.

And right there, wrapping around her calf, was her soulmate tattoo. His fingers twitched over the words before he slowly traced them, gently twisting her leg to catch the words as they rolled around the back— not that he needed to see what they said.

What cryptid are you trying to be, Mothman’s cousin?

Javi gasped as the realisation settled in. He snapped his head up to look at her. And she nodded, confirming what he hadn’t dared ask. His vision was blurry with tears as joy and elation coursed through his body, he felt a laugh bubble up his chest. Excitement zinged across his nerves. His soulmate!

“Why wouldn’t you tell me?” He demanded, no real rancour or admonishment in his voice as he pulled his soulmate into a crushing hug. He marvelled at the press of her body against his; his hands stroked along the contours of her body, pressing her closer to him. She was his soulmate.

“I thought you didn’t want me…” She mumbled so softly that he barely heard her.

Javi relinquished his hold on her to grasp her face again, cradling her jaw and wiping her stray tears, “I would always want you. I wanted you even when you were a giant cryptid in stupid bronze armour and feather wings.”

“No, you didn’t, silly…” She giggled as she teasingly rolled her eyes at him. Javi reverently traced the tattoo on her leg again.

“I’m sorry…” He mumbled, giving her a dimpled, mischievous smile before guiding the sole of her foot to press against the hardened cock he had been trying to hide, “I’ve been trying to cover this up as soon as I’d come in.”

She adoringly tucked a few of his curls behind his ears, her fingers brushing over his stubble. She pinched his chin in her palm, pulling his jaw so he looked up at her. Javi felt his heart race, heat pooling in his belly, and more blood rushed lower to his cock where the heel of her foot was dizzyingly stroking over it. She insistently pressed her toes to his balls. He gulped despite his dry mouth.

Her thumb caressed and wiped at his lower lip, testing the softness of it before she arched a brow in challenge. Her eyes twinkled with mischief and lust.

“Kiss me to make up for it?” Javi went enthusiastically into the arms of his lover. What followed the desperate kisses and the fervent touches was an intimate introduction of bodies and a reacquaintance of severed souls.

And if Lucien accidentally caught a glimpse of their sweet production assistant with her T-shirt stretching under her arms and bunched into her mouth to expose her swaying tits, a foot propped up on his vanity, head lolling back and watching her pretty pussy obediently take the director’s cock in the mirror then… no, he didn’t.

He knew better than to mess with the PAs on set if he wanted to enjoy the simple joys of life like a clean trailer, a hot coffee just the way he liked it and warm meals on time. It was a lesson he had learned the hard way.

#PPCUVDAY #writing event #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #javi gutierrez #javi gutiérrez #javi gutierrez x reader #javi gutierrez x you #javi gutiérrez x reader #javi gutiérrez x you #valentines day #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal cinematic universe valentines event #pedro pascal cinematic universe #PPCUVDAY2025 #ppcuvday #ppcuvday2025

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fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic · 1 year ago

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Good Omens Fic Rec: It's About the Journey

“Do you ever miss it?” Crowley asked apropos of nothing, as per usual. Aziraphale hummed, preoccupied. “Flying,” Crowley spoke to the ceiling of the bookshop. The demon’s carefully casual tone sent gentle alarms ringing in Aziraphale’s ears, a delicate chime that whispered, this may be A Thing. He set down the pages and swiveled in his chair to give Crowley his full attention. ** Or, two celestial beings talk about flying.

Length: 3,945 words

AO3 Rating: General Audiences

Best for: Safe in Public, Fluff, Romance, Post S2

Triggers: None

Read it here, fic by hakunahistata

*Minor Spoilers* Mothman Crowley CONFIRMED!!! This is such a sweet story. I actually read this for the first time in line at the bank on Valentine’s day. Literally as soon as I saw my AO3 subscription alert for this author (who I love) I could not resist. It was a very long wait and by the time it was my turn I was at such a heartwarming spot, I couldn’t get my words out properly and embarrassed myself in front of the teller. Whoops

God this is beautiful. Set after whatever happened during the Second Coming, Crowley is reminiscing about flying. How much he loves it, and why he’s not that good at it. I loved the way flying is described here. More workout than it seems, and you can tell how much Crowley loved it. It's a touch sad, but we're healing and moving forward. There’s a section I particularly loved, about Aziraphale learning to give Crowley the time and space he needs to open up. That he will share how he's feeling if he's not pressured into answering. They’ve come such a long way in not only reading each other, but understanding each other. It's a very healthy relationship they're developing here.

Then, we get to the The Gift. I won’t spoil everything but what Aziraphale gives him makes me want to scream with pent up love!! “You’re allowed to hate it” he says!! As if Crowley could ever hate such a display of affection!! A handcrafted labor of love, a promise to love and to cherish, to bring happiness into each other's lives. But I do understand the anxiety that comes from such a gesture. It’s acknowledgment that he sees Crowley, he’s doesn’t want to fix him, he wants to provide a way forward. And they have created such a safe home in each other. Y’all are killing me I swear.

Just a gorgeous GORGEOUS short story. An ode to mobility aids and new beginnings. It’s a must read for me. Plus mothman reference, and we stan mothman here.

Read it here, fic by hakunahistata

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #fanfic rec #aziracrow #good omens fic rec #aziraphale x crowley #It's About the Journey #hakunahistata #safe in public #short #romance #fluff #flying #disability #no spice #post s2 #canon timeline

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engineersuggests-archived · 4 years ago

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catch up post

>Engineer first logs on

- tells people to be trans, have ass, and eat soap.

>Other mercs start to log on

>Medic bets on Demoman destroying Engineers Sentry

- Engineer and Demo are engaged in a small competition to see who can persist the longest

- Spy ends up betting on Engineer

- Demo works on bettering his chemicals and Engie works on a mobile sentry

- Engie ends up winning

- Demo and Engie go out for drinks as a celebration with no hard feelings

- Medic and Spy fight over how much money was bet

- I still don't know if Spy ever got paid

>Allan (@/thenewguy-suggests) appears

- Engineer gives Allan some money to cover some basic expenses

- Engineer offers his workshop as a place to stay, but is beat by Demo who offers Sniper's old room

>Engineer finally takes in the stray cat he’s been feeding

- an anon helps name her Paprika

>Paprika attacks one of Medic's pigeons, Hypatia

- Engie takes in the bird temporarily to patch her up

- Once Hypatia is somewhat healed, she returns to Medic

- Medic still doesn't know Paprika attacked one of his pidgeons (and Engie intends to keep it this way)

>Engineer gets flooded with work from the Administrator

- not something made too clear, but a plot point made for the ooc reason of being too busy to keep up a large queue

>Engineer loses his truck

- Spy offers to help, but Engie is frustrated by his futile attempts at finding it himself (the reason being there are important things in there he needs)

- Blu Sniper shows up to the scene with Engie's truck with a half-dead Allan

- Demo and Medic show up to the scene

- Demo has a panic attack and Medic quickly gets to healing

- Engie is confused about the events that transpired beforehand, but soon learns the Sniper was the cause behind Allan almost dying, and sending Demo to respawn.

- Engie and Spy are furious at Sniper, and beat him up a bit.

- Sniper passes out from exhaustion, and after Spy gets too rough Engie pulls him away.

- Spy struggles, and Engie hits Spy in the lower back, a weak point for the man due to a wound from years ago that no one else seemed to know about.

- Spy is weakened, and Engie leaves Spy with a quick apology and a name drop. Spy is left reeling about their past.

- Engie hefts Sniper up into his truck, and he drives them back to the diner where Sniper's van is.

- Once there, Sniper leaves Engie a thank you note, and the two part ways.

>Engineer and Spy catch-up

- The two try to catch up, but it's brief. (They're still on good terms though, there's no bad blood)

>Engineer messes with respawn

- Against regulations, Engie registers Paprika under respawn.

- Engineer manages to have really bad timing as Ms. Pauling is in.

- Ms. Pauling notices the unauthorized registration, and begins searching the base for who the owner of this cat is.

- Ms. Pauling ends up finding Engie out.

- Engie explains himself, and Ms. Pauling ends up having a soft spot for Paprika.

- Ms. Pauling allows Paprika to stay, and lets Engie off the hook.

>Medic's Marker Experiment

- Medic held a small experiment to see if his teammates would eat markers. (spoilers: they did)

- Engie joked with Medic, and ended up with a grey marker.

- He didn't eat it.

>Valentine's Day

- A secret valentine event was initiated, where it would play out the same as secret santa, but Valentine oriented.

- Engie got Red Sniper, and gave him one of his old hats, since Snipes had lost his own recently.

- Engie's secret valentine got him a mug that shows "You warm my ❤️" when heated up.

- Demo began to give out drinks, and Engie, Medic, Sniper and Spy got drunk.

- Engie laughs at Medic for thinking he ate a marker.

- Engie briefly passes out, to which Spy puts a blanket over him.

- Engie wakes up, and reciprocates the gesture to Spy

- Engie steals an arrow from Sniper

- Engie threatens to kill Mothman with the arrow to which anons help him to resolve not to

- Demo eventually gives in and has a drink, which leads to a brawl between him, Blu Sniper, Blu Scout and Allan (spoiler alert, it ain't pretty)

- Red Scout commentates on this briefly, to Engie's amusement

- Engie ends up playing battleship with Medic and his doves before finally passing out on his board

>Engineer dances behind Spy

- Engie got a suggestion to dance behind Spy's back and Spy proceeded to be spooked

- When found out, Engie lied pretty badly, and Spy could help but laugh

- Spy told Engie that if he wanted to dance with him, Spy would happily join

- Engie took the opportunity to mess with Spy some more, and offered to Square Dance

- Spy begrudgingly obliged

- The two square danced.

>Engineer finds a book of codes

- Paprika knocks off a book from the top shelf which wakes up Engineer

- Once he finds and reads the book, he begins posting in binary code

- The binary is decoded into keyboard shortcuts that navigate Engie towards the console

- Engie realizes this book is loaded with cheat codes, and intends to have his fun with it while he can

- Engie noclips briefly, and has a mini crisis

- He then cloaks himself, and talks to Demo, who mistakes him for Lance

- Demo confesses to Engie that he can see and talk to ghosts.

- Engine mentions old ghosts he had in his farm, and Demo shows interest in visiting.

- Turns out Lance is Demo's childhood friend that died and got tied to Demo.

- Engie learns that he and others can't hear Lance, but they can hear eyelander due to him being enchanted

#ooc #catch up #//i may get things wrong so feel free to correct me ny memory is horrible #//also ill try to update this as the blog goes on #//ill try to let yall know when i do update this #//it is already... so long

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thiswasinevitableid · 5 years ago

Note

#5 Sternclay please? SFW or NSFW, doesn't matter to me. Thank you!

I went NSFW, minor CW for light D/S and a brief mention of suicide.

5 Should I update my outfit again? I think they like my new boots but the cape didn’t get the reaction I was hoping for

“Okay, I want your honest opinion.” Barclay turns towards the communication screen.

On the screen, Indrid Cold raises an eyebrow, “My honest, unvarnished opinion?”

“Yeah.”

His friend throws his silver haired head back and cackles, the kind of supervillain laugh that makes Barclay jealous, “Oh, oh my friend, that is the most absurd get up I have ever seen on any hero, villain, anit-hero, supermodel, or psuedovillain.”

Barclay sags, “that’s kinda what I figured.”

“I mean, the tight black tank-top? The black pants? Those boots, goodness, did you get rid of your modified hiking boots?”

“No. Pretty sure he liked those.” He mumbles.

“Ah haaah.” Indrid tents his fingers, leaning forward with a grin, “still pining for your man in black, I see.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Barclay, I doubt changing your outfit is going to bring him over to your point of view. And what happened to the trans-pride patterned flannel top you got for the last time? I recall you being proud of how it flattered your physique?”

“He didn’t even mention it.”

“Wasn’t he chasing you off government property at the time?”

“So? He’s commented on things like that before. Uggggh.” Barclay slumps down in his command chair, “How did you get the Ranger to move things to the next level?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.”

Barclay stares him down. Indrid stares right back.

Finally, his friend sighs, “My wires got crossed during a fight and I kissed him instead of headbutting him. Not one of my prouder moments. Though it has decreased the number of fights in my life and increased the number of orgasms.”

“Don’t think that’ll work. No offense to the Ranger, but Agent X is all business. I try kissing him, he’ll taze me or some shit.”

“Well then, you’ll have to get creative. Perhaps...oh drat, he’s early.”

Barclay’s about to ask who when a crash echoes offscreen.

“We should catch up again soon, Barclay.” As the feed goes dark, Indrid turns and shouts, “You green-clad nuisance, I just had that door fixed!”

Barclay shuts off his end of the communication, stands and stretches as he regards the security feeds from his cameras scattered through the woods. Being fifty miles from the nearest town was supposed to make him feel safer; lately it makes him the frustrating combo of lonely and paranoid.

Then again, does it really count as paranoia if Agent X is always on his tail? The man is intelligent, and has government resources behind him. If he wants to find Barclay, Barclay has a bad feeling he’ll be found.

Worse, he suspects he wouldn’t mind being found.

That’s part of why he’d called Indrid. Yes, he wanted feedback on his new look, but Indrid is one of the few people he trusts to understand his situation. They each chose cryptid aliases (Mothman and Bigfoot). They fell into villainy through similar channels; Indrid from being chased out of towns with (usually figurative) pitchforks one too many times when he was just trying to help, Barclay because he’d learned to survive mostly on his own and grown tired of seeing certain kinds of evil rewarded while things that didn’t even count as evil were harshly punished. But Indrid also understood what it meant to get a crush on the very person who was hunting you.

He knows the affection is one-sided. Agent X is the put-together, cultured, cosmopolitan; Barclay is not (were you to ask his friends, they would argue that being tidy, well-read, and widely traveled shakes out to the same thing).

The elevator ride from his underground hideout to the main cabin is brief. Another ding in his villainy score is that he really loves his rustic, cozy home, and only uses his fancier tech for work. What’s the point of a suite in some skyscraper? You can’t even have a proper back porch.

Maybe he should start a fire in the fireplace, or read that stack of food magazines he has squirreled away. He could reheat dinner too, homemade green onion pancakes and bao for one.

In any case, he’s not going to get anything serious done tonight, as he doesn’t really scheme in the way his fellow villains do. His actions are a tad more impulsive, in response to the government or certain corporations doing corrupt shit. Besides, the forecast calls for a snowstorm, and he’d rather not get stranded in the woods.

After settling on the couch he picks up the top magazine, a travel issue.

Twenty romantic getaways off the beaten path

Hmmmm, would Agent X like the beach? Or is he more of a mountains guy?

He should read a different article

8 recipes to cook for a special someone

What the fuck, this is supposed to be the travel issue, not the valentines day issue.

After sorting through the pile, he grabs the Halloween issue from last year and heads upstairs. He needs to sleep, only partially because sleep might keep him from daydreaming about his arch-nemisis.

The black boots come off and he sets them in his closet. Hops onto the bed and stretches out.

Somewhere in the middle of a fascinating article on cast iron pans, he falls asleep.

When he wakes up, his arms are trapped above his head and someone else is reading his magazine.

“I’d been meaning to read this issue. Their writing is always excellent.” Agent X looks up, smiling mildly.

“Glad I could help. Now help me back by untying me.”

Agent X sighs, “You know very well I can’t do that.”

“So what, you break in here just to read my shit?”

“Of course not. Actually, I didn’t choose to come this time.” he stands, producing a slender, silver device from his sleeve, “In fact, I’m being reassigned.”

“Wait, how the fuck is that even a thing? You’re a ‘hero’ you pick your enemies.”

“No, I’m a government agent. And they’ve decided that you are not nearly a large enough threat for me to keep chasing you. Never mind that I devoted years of my life to the endeavor.” Barclay finds the bitterness oddly flattering. As the agent talks, Barclay moves his hands; there’s a reason he taught his security AI ASL. The mirror behind his enemy flickers to life, showing him a video feed of the Snowspeeder Agent X used to get there.

“They were going to assign me to chase The Mothman, but his nemesis is….very territorial and they decided that was not a wise move.”

Barclay can’t help snorting out a laugh.

“This isn’t funny.”

“Trust me, that bit’s hilariou-oh shit” he registers the solemn look on Agent X’s face, “Are you supposed to fucking kill me?”

The tricky thing about a nemesis who wears glorified sunglasses is that it makes his face hard to read most times, but right now he looks horrified.

“No. I, I was allowed to decide how best to handle you as a threat, and I do not believe you’re that dangerous. So I’m just going to install a tracking chip in your spine and be on my way.”

“Like hell you are.” Barclay curls in defensively, signs “destroy.” In the mirror, the snowspeeder silently explodes.

“Barclay, please, don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“Don’t fucking tag me like some wild animal then.”

“I don’t have a choice.”

Barclay growls, “That’s been your line for three fucking years. You’ve got choices, agent, we all do.”

“You’re right. And you could have chosen something other than a life of crime.”

“Don’t act like you know what I choices I was given. And don’t come any closer with that thing.”

Agent X takes a half step before Barclays feet connect with his chest, sending him clattering into the dresser and the tracker pen under the bed.

“Shoulda tied those too agent!” With all his might he yanks on the cuffs snapping the wrung of the headboard.

“Is this really how you want our last interaction to go?” Agent X stands, nightstick coming free from his belt.

“Nope.” Barclay charges him, the agent sliding gracefully out of is path. Just as they pass, Barclay spins, cuffs connecting with the agents hand.

They glow green, accepting the fingerprint.

“Damn it.” The Agent turns on a dime, launching at him.

“Three years, agent, I know your gadgets as well as you do. Sorry about the speeder.”

He points at the mirror and Agent X glances away momentarily to look.

“Shit.”

“Yep. Have fun getting back on foot. If you stop fighting, I can loan you a snow-cat.”

Agent X turns the stun function of his nightstick on in response.

“C’mon really?!” Barclay growls, pounces before the agent has a chance to react, and hurls him into the mirror.

It shatters, and the agent falls, crumpled and clutching his arm, to the ground. Barclay straddles him, pinning him on his stomach, immaculate black suit ripped in the back.

“Okay, let’s try this again: You’re going to stop attacking me, break that tracker thing in half, and then I’ll give you the keys to something that can get you out of here.”

“I can’t, I cannot fail this mission.”

Barclay does his best, wicked smirk, “In that case, I get one more thing for all the trouble you’ve caused.”

With that, he rips off Agent X’s mask and goggles.

The face beneath them is better than he ever envisioned: sharp cheekbones, blue eyes, movie star handsome in every way.

His gaze is unflinching, enraged, and when his fingers curl minutely Barclay grabs his hand and pries it open.

In the center is white, cylindrical pill.

“Is this...fuck, is this a suicide pill?”

“Yes. Now give it back.”

“Not a fucking chance.” He stands, crosses to the window and chucks the pill out into the night, “Christ, agent, do you really think I’m going to torture you?”

When he turns back, arms crossed, the veneer of Agent X’s expression cracks, and he presses his face into the floor with a shuddering gasp.

“It’s p-protocol. If, if my identity is compromised.”

He wants to be moved by the tears in that voice, but he’s still pretty pissed.

“You’d swallow a pill for them, just like that. Shit, they really do brainwash you guys.”

“It’s not that.” The agent raises his head, spits out blood, “I still have family. If an enemy knows who I am, they could go after them for leverage. Ending my own life keeps the people I love safe.”

The fight goes out of him and he sighs, “Look, I’m not gonna go after your family, I promise. I won’t share your identity either; I know you’ve probably figured out the identities of people I care about and haven’t ratted them out. Consider this a thank you for that.”

“They’ll terminate me anyway.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“That’s protocol.”

“Fuck protocol.”

The agent giggles, the sound increasingly hysterical, “I’m quite the triple threat; in one move I lose my job, my safety, and my purpose. I guess I live on your floor now.”

“I’m not gonna make you live on my floor.”

“Your holding cell, then.”

“Uhhhh” Barclay rubs his arm, “I don’t have one. It’s not like anyone besides you has ever tried to infiltrate here.”

“Please tell me you have a guest room.” The agent is still hiccuping laughs.

“Yeah. I can fix it up real quick for you.”

Agent X sits up, wincing, “You’re really letting me stay?”

“I mean, yeah? No way I’m sending you back to people who we know will kill you. I know you think I’m a villain, but I don’t really want people getting hurt. And I respect you as an adversary, not to mention I actually kind of like you, Agent X.”

“Joseph.” The agent slowly drags himself up onto the bed. “It’s just Joseph now. Joseph Stern.”

“Don’t seem like there’s much ‘just’ to you, Mr. Overachiever.”

Joseph tries flipping him off, only to flinch when he moves his arm.

“Good lord, I thought that wasn’t a real mirror, why is there so much glass in my skin?”

“Uh, you know how when you drop a cell phone and the screen kinda-splinters and you can get bits of it in your fingers? That’s basically what happened to your back. Uh, sorry.”

“It was in self defense.”

“Will you let me help? I got lots of first aid stuff.”

Joseph nods and Barclay hurries into the bathroom to grab one of the two dozen med kits scattered around the house.

“On your stomach.”

The other man rolls over, and Barclay gets to work on his back. Joseph remains stoic the entire time, until Barclay begins dousing the cuts with disinfectant, at which point he hisses.

“I know, I hate this shit too. Dunno why people are always inventing new torture devices and interrogation techniques, this’d do the trick on most people I know.”

“Very true. It’s alright, pain is deserved when you fuck up as royally as I did tonight.”

“Hey, none of that, okay?” Barclay says gently, easing the tatters of Josephs shirt off, “That pain isn’t a punishment, it’s something I’m doing to keep you safe and so you can heal. You don’t deserve to be hurt, Joseph. And I’m sorry for all the times you ended up that way because we fought. I know it comes with the territory, but that doesn’t mean I can’t apologize.”

Silence as he finishes bandaging that well-developed back, and as he cleans up the debris from the fight and the aftermath.

“In that case” Joseph murmurs, “ I’m sorry too. For, well, for any time during the last three years where I hurt you.”

“Apology accepted.” Barclay sits down on the bed, facing his guest, who turns his head to smile weakly at him.

“What happens now?”

“No clue. I can heat up some dinner, and there’s lots of books here, and some movies. Even got a couple of video games for when friends visit. Or you can sleep, if you want.”

Joseph gives him a curious look, “I meant to ask, is this what you wear at home all the time?”

Barclay blushes, “No, uh, I was just trying out a new costume. Usually wear, like, my flannel shirts and stuff.”

Joseph cautiously rolls onto his side for a better look. A prolonged, hungry, better look.

“What do you think?” Barclay keeps his eyes fixed on the headboard and not on the lines of muscle on Josephs stomach.

“I think you look like you should be cruising the Folsom Street Fair looking for some gym bunny who’ll call you sir.”

“Is that a...good thing?”

“Yes.”

When he meets those blue eyes, their pupils are wide.

Barclay chuckles, “You gonna call me, ‘sir, babe?”

“Only if you want me to.”

The bed dips as shifts to be next to Stern, “Nah, but I’ve been dying to fuck you since the Pipeline Incident.”

“Lord, Barclay, that was a year ago. But the answer is yes.” Stern tries to sit up, but Barclay rests a hand on his shoulder, kissing his cheek.

“I just patched you up, babe, so how’s about we keep this simple for tonight?”

“Oh, okay, uh, how should we?” Stern is blushing, head dipping in slight deference, and it’s the most gratifying goddamn thing Barclay has ever seen.

“Get those pants off, lay on your stomach, and put your ass in the air.” He sits back so Stern can obey, which he does as quickly as possible.

“Good boy.” Barclay rumbles, sitting behind him, “Shit, all that superhero training makes for an amazing ass.” He rubs it possessively, Stern moaning softly at the touch.

“Thank you.”

“Think it’ll look even better with my handprints on it?” The question is breezy as he drags a nail along the right cheek, waiting for Sterns permission.

“Yes.” Stern whispers into the pillows.

Barclay swats the right side, “What was that?”

“Yes!” Stern cries out, wiggling his hips in response.

“Much better.” He hits four more times, two for each side, Stern yelping with delight at each one.

“Now, let’s get one thing straight,” He grabs Sterns hips, pulls his ass against his crotch, grinding slowly, the pants for his definitely not for work anymore outfit just tight enough to give excellent friction from the movement, “I get the feeling you get off on a little pain. And I sure as hell like watching you squirm from it. And” he smacks his left side, for fun, “I bet you think you deserve this.”

Five slaps, fast and with more force behind them.

“Yes, yes, Barclay, please.”

“You’re right, you do. But not because you deserve to be hurt, or to suffer. You deserve to feel good, Joseph. And the second this stops feeling good and you start using it as punishment, I stop doing it. We clear?”

“Crystal.” Stern whimpers at the next slap, and Barclay bends forward to loving kiss a line up his throat and nuzzle his cheek.

“Good boy. You okay to touch yourself--hah, that answers that.” He laughs as Sterns right hand disappears beneath him and his mouth parts in a moan.

“Fuck, Barclay, I, I’ve, nhhnn, I’ve wanted this so long.”

“Me too babe. God, Joseph, you got any idea how fucking incredible you are?” He finds an angle that lets him continue rutting against his ass and kissing his neck and face without touching his injuries.

“No, perhaps you can say more?” Stern grins

Barclay growls, delivers a particularly hard slap, “Oughta make you stop jerking off since you’re fishing for compliments but, fuck, babe, you look so goddamn hot when you’re moaning and twisting around under me, shit, I love hearing your voice, and your smile makes me forget my fucking name and fuck, fuck, yeah, ohyeah.” He tugs Stern close as he comes, keeps pouring out increasingly jumbled praise as Stern tenses in his arms and comes across the covers with the most erotic sound Barclay has ever had the good luck to hear.

“Lord almighty I needed that.”

Barclay chuckles, guides them both down into a comfortable cuddle, “Glad I could help. You hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Okay, lemme rinse off and I can make us dinner.”

By the time he’s out of the shower Stern has stripped and remade the bed with clean covers, and takes his hand as they head downstairs. Barclay reheats the leftovers and makes them tea while Stern reads to him about fifty of the best new restaurants in the west.

The next morning, the FBI’s villain control division receives word that Agent X has been killed in the line of duty.

Three weeks later, they learn that Bigfoot has a new partner: the man in black.

#sternclay #agent stern/barclay #TAZ Amnesty #superhero au

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asteriskemily · 5 years ago

Text

The Five People Duck Fell For

(And The One Who, Quite Literally, Picked Him Up)

Here’s a kinda shitty, but kinda okay fic that I wrote because I didn’t know that needed Waynerva until Justin handed it to me on a silver platter.

If Wayne Newton has to real think about it, he would say that his first crush was on Danny Keil in the second grade. They lived in the same cul-de-sac and their mothers were both on the PTA, so they were often made to spend time together. They walked to school together, they ate lunch together, and they played tag together. It was the perfect friendship for two eight year old boys.

Danny moved away in the third grade. His mom was still around, but Wayne would never again see Danny. Wayne’s mom told him that Danny’s parents got divorced. Wayne didn’t know what that meant, but he knew that Danny was gone.

Wayne hadn’t realized that it was a crush at the time. He barely knew what a crush was and when he learned what it was, he didn’t know he could have one on a boy. By the time he recognized what it had been, Wayne had already been taught that boys liking boys was a bad thing, so he chose to avoid thinking about his first friend.

Wayne had his first kiss at a birthday party in the fifth grade and it was the beginning of his whirlwind romance with Becky Emberson. They shared pudding cups and pushed each other on the swings during recess and once Wayne gave her a dandelion on Valentine’s Day to show that he really loved her.

Becky’s favorite subject was art and Wayne’s was English and, because of that, Becky said that they were too different and that they had to break up. Wayne was absolutely heartbroken. One month later Juno Devine came to Kepler with three things that Wayne found fascinating: a Polaroid camera, a Walkman, and a love for nature that he had never seen in anyone else. Juno became his best friend and together they sat in the woods, listening to R.E.M. and taking stupid pictures of each other. Wayne made silly faces at the camera and when the picture came sliding out of it Juno laughed and said that his mouth looked like a duck’s bill. She took a pen and wrote, under the picture, Wayne “The Duck” Newton. The nickname stuck.

Tabatha and all of her friends were attractive, popular, and loaded. He asked her out on a dare and was shocked when she actually said yes. They went to a drive in movie theater that was just outside of town and made out in her car while The Empire Strikes Back played in the background. They dated for three months and neither of them found the relationship particularly interesting. She took him skiing on his 18th birthday and he fell down the mountain and nearly broke his legs. He then limped to the Wolf Ember and had his first ever bowl of French onion soup and it changed his life. She found him there, eating soup and trying not to break down in tears at its glory. She drove him home in silence and they both knew that this would be their last date.

That same night a blue woman who was maybe a ghost or maybe computers told him that he was destined for greatness, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the soup and the math test he had on Tuesday and how he wasn’t the right guy to save the world.

Duck wanted to get as far away from Kepler as he could. Away from the people he was only half-friends with, away from the mom that called Juno a dead beat just because she didn’t fit the perfect standard of what she thought a girl should be, away from whatever destiny he may or may not actually have. The farthest he could get was Marshal University. Even if he wasn’t so far from Kepler, it was like a whole other world. A world with less stress about destinies and more cell service. A world where he didn’t feel terrified when he was calling that cute boy he met at the campus bar and asking him out on a date. Duck Newton dated Charlie Wallace for nearly three years before he got a letter from his little sister that told him that their mom had died in a car crash.

That same day, Duck packed his bags and bought a bus ticket back to Kepler. He told Charlie goodbye and they both knew that they wouldn’t be able to keep in touch. When Duck got to Kepler he hugged June and they both cried. Their dad died when they were little and now their mom was gone too. This was all the family that they had left.

Duck got an apartment and a job and he finished college online. June went to school and tried to have normal life. Duck became a ranger and June made it all the way to Harvard to become a lawyer. Everything was normal. That is, until Duck had a dream about an archway made of stone and suddenly Minerva was back.

Duck thought that the mothman was hot. He may be just a regular guy now, but he was a regular guy who knew where the mothman lived. He went to knock on the door to the winnebago that Indrid lived in and it opened before his fist connected. Indrid smiled at him with a grin that seemed to wide to be human. This is because it in fact wasn’t human. Duck asked him out for coffee and Indrid agreed. They sat and talked about having visions of the future while they drank coffee and shared a scone.

It was the first date that either of them had been on in quite some time and as they walked back to the winnebago Indrid informed Duck that it was the last one that they would be going on together. He told Duck that there wasn’t a future where the two of them ended up together and that there was no point in delaying the inevitable. In the months following the date, Duck would think back to what Indrid said to him as he walked away, still wearing his too-wide, inhuman grin.

“So few people have true soulmates, Duck Newton. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of that.”

Minerva had been quiet lately. While she usually went through life roaring like a clap of thunder, since the end of the battle that she had been fighting for who knows how long, she was more silent. Duck didn’t necessarily think it was a bad thing. She seemed calm like she was finally at peace.

He came home to find Minerva laying on the floor with Moony the cat sitting proudly on her chest.

“Wayne Newton,” she chuckled at her own joke before it had the chance to come out of her mouth “I fear that this deceptively small beast has felled me. I lay here, trapped by its powerful grasp, unable to escape. Please, Wayne Newton, flee before you suffer the same fate.”

“I refuse to run and leave you behind, Minerva! I will save you!” Duck set down his groceries and playful ran to Minerva’s side. He crouched down and picked up Moony, then set her down on the ground. Moony ran off to scratch up Ducks pillows. He plopped down next to Minerva as she sat up.

“You have saved me, Wayne Newton. I am forever in your debt.” Minerva pushed herself off the floor and offered a hand to Duck. She pulled him up and put a hand on his shoulder. Her smile was brighter than any of stars in the universe.

“Would you help me with the groceries?” He asked. It was something easy, something normal. They both needed a lot more of that. For a little bit they worked in silence and then Minerva spoke up.

“I have something that I feel that I need to speak to you about, Wayne Newton.” She seemed serious and almost nervous. The tone made Duck nervous too.

“Yeah, what’s up?” He tried to seem calm as he set aside the ingredients for the soup that they would be attempting to make for dinner that night.

“Since we finally fulfilled our destinies things have been very calm.” She started. Duck nodded along, listening intently. “And I think that that is a good thing. It is nice to have the opportunity to be calm and to think about something other than a battle that is coming. And now that I’ve had that time to think, I’ve been thinking a lot about how lucky it was that I ended up choosing you. I know that it was a somewhat random choice, but I highly doubt that things would have gone the way that they did had it been anyone else.” For a moment she paused. She looked as though she was considering whether or not she was going to keep going. In the end she must have decided to continue.

“You are someone who is very important to me, Wayne Newton, and I cannot imagine a world where we never met. You changed my life. When I had chosen Leo, he was truly just a warrior that I was training, but when you and I started training together, you became friends. I am grateful that you taught me how to be someone’s friend again.” Duck smiled at her.

“I can’t imagine a life without you either, Minnie.” Duck had been thinking about this for some time now as well. “I-When we lost our connection, it was really hard for me. Not just because I wasn’t as tough as I usually am, but because I lost one of the most important people in my life. You showed upon

and you turned my whole world upside down and I’m so much better off because of that. I used to think that I was just a guy and then you told me that I could be more than that. Maybe at first I didn’t want to believe you, but it got to the point where I wanted to prove you right.” Suddenly Duck realized something and what Indrid told him finally made sense. He didn’t know what to say next, scared of what might happen. And then it was like Minerva had read his mind.

“I believe that I am in love with you, Wayne Newton, and If what I have observed about human romantic behavior is correct then I believe that this is the point at which I should be asking you on a date.” Minerva’s cheeks were growing darker as she spoke.

“I would like that.” All at once Duck was, quite literally, swept off of his feet as Minerva pulled him into a bear hug. Smiled and looked up at her as they settled into something that was less like her hugging him and more like her carrying him bridal style. “And hey, guess what.”

“What, Wayne Newton?”

“I love you too, Minnie.”

#taz #taz amnesty #taz spoilers #minerva taz #duck newton #waynerva #mineruck #whatever the ship name is #text #fic

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animal-guardian · 7 years ago

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The host is a young 14 year old female called Mystic, who was raised in a gypsy family. Now some people believe gypsy’s are bad luck and were involved in witch craft. This makes them targets for harassment and such. Now this family actually was comprised of a lesbian couple that adopted a child from a family that was to poor to care for her anymore. They named the dark skinned child Mystic, she grew under their care not knowing about a Parasite that was growing inside her on her back. You see her birth parents had a secret about their child they didn’t share, not that it would have changed the gypsy’s minds but Mystic was born with a parasite having wormed it’s way into Mystic’s back when she was 7 months old in her mother’s womb. The mother had a parasite who injected it’s own egg into the mother’s womb which found it’s way on to the child where it will grow and develop with Mystic. This was done with the mother’s consent in order to have her baby protected when Mystic would get older. The gypsy family soon found themselves in a small town, they needed to stay and start lives for themselves, it was clear at a young age Mystic was well versed in Cryptozoology, and basic white witch magic. This made her terrifying to the other children...and the coffin shaped bump on her back wasn’t at all helping...But one child found her interesting and exciting..a very young child named Patricia. Now mind you that this Patricia was 6 years old and Mystic was 9 years old at this time but they hit it off well and Mystic even became Patricia’s babysitter. Mystic saw that Patricia was loved by her parents but they were always gone on business and the other kids found the younger child annoying from the way she wanted all the attention..most likely from not having her parents to give it to her. So Mystic was with Patricia nearly 24/7 and some times she’s have Patricia sleep over at her place to keep her safe and happy. These two became adoptive sisters with a tight bond to each other. And such they grew together but it was around when Patricia was 9 and Mystic being 11 that’s when it went haywire as a skullgirl attacked their home and were driven out of their town and home. Their families dying in the attack Mystic had her parasite some what developed but it was not strong enough yet and showed no signs of life yet. So Mystic took her adoptive sister and ran away with her from the burning town after a week or so the skullgirl was killed and that threat was gone. Sadly after 3 weeks the war started and their luck got even WORSE....both were kidnapped and enslaved by the medici. But after a year with Patricia now being 10 and Mystic being 12 They made a new friend called Marie surprisingly she was from their home town, they stayed tight together until sadly The Medici sold Mystic but she was damn well not being taken away from Patricia without a fight. Sadly she was overwhelmed and knocked unconscious...Patricia was devastated as she watched her sister being carried off and most likely never be seen again...this made the once innocent and optimistic Patricia turn colder and grow more attached to Marie. But Mystic is alive and trapped in the confines of a castle..along with her now fully developed Parasite she named Chambers...she eagerly searches for a way out to finally see Patricia again..she would hope to fully escape when she turns 14 this would be the same day Patricia is rescued by Big band and Valentine... ——— Well I always wanted to make a character know and interact with a cannon character so I did just that with Peacock and Mystic XD Peacock has little back history that’s known so she was absolutely perfect for this! Hope you guys like them! Also here’s a little more about them! ——— Mystic’s Parasite known as Chambers, acts very similar to Leviathan in terms of Being strictly loyal to Mystic, he is the more silent type, preferring to nod and or grunt to communicate. He can in fact speak full sentences! His voice is low toned to that of what some might think a grim reaper sounds like. He looks like a skeleton that has a coffin attached to his taking place of where his legs and his would be. This coffin is the base of their attacks. Summoning creatures of folklore and myths, such as, The Jersey Devil, Cat-ctus, Mothman, And even chupacabra. Some say she can even summon Cthulhu, well mostly his arm to pull people into the coffin, and then punching them out of it. Chambers and Mystic have already decided to be soulmates, so when older they would be married. They know each other more than anyone else could understand. When babies they spoke telepathically to each other learning about each other more and more this made the two quite enamored with each other and made them make their decision. ———- I’m really really excited cause I’m commissioned the great @wiirdo to do them in their skullgirls style! XD which is absolutely incredible to me! I’m really excited to see these two come to life! I will say these two make me more than happy story wise and design wise cause I put a lot of heart into them! So please don’t steal them or repost them! Mystic and Chambers owned by me!

#Mystic and Chambers #animal guardian #wiirdo #skullgirls oc #skullgirls

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cardboard-moon · 7 years ago

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40 Things You Never Wanted To Know About Me

You probably already know me decently well or else you wouldn’t be reading this, so instead of rehashing the basic (boring) “getting to know me” questions I dug a little deeper and asked myself about what’s really important. Here is the result: 40 Things You Never Wanted To Know About Me. Enjoy!

1. What Parks and Rec character am I?

While I could argue for almost everyone on the show I’m probably most like Ben Wyatt: a white, brunette, and sad man who eats soup alone on a park bench (minus his love of math and rollerskate kink)

2: Top 5 books?

To Kill a Mockingbird, The Secret History, A Prayer for Owen Meany, The Help, 11/22/63

3: Top 5 movies?

Chinatown, Star Wars, Rear Window, National Treasure (nick cage can be good in small doses ok) and Nancy Drew (2007)

4: Top 5 shows?

Parks and Rec, B99, That 70′s Show, Mad Men, Arrested Development

5: Top 10 most iconic vines?

1) Chris is that a weed/Mary is that a police

2) Hi My Name is Trey I have A Basketball Game Tomorrow

3) Rebecca It’s Not What You Think

4) The one where the girl is just hitting elmo with a baseball bat

5) Anything Kermit but esp. the one where he falls off the building

6) You Know This Boy Got His Free Taco

7) 2 Bros Chillin in the Hot Tub

8) Waelcom to my Keeetchen we have bananis and avocadis

9) Whoever Threw That Paper Your Mom’s A Hoe

10) i spilled lipstick in your valentino bag (yOU SPILLED WHAHULAUG LIPSTICK IN MY VALENTINE WHITE BAG)

6: Where do I see myself in 21 years?

One of my dreams in life is to marry the heir to a prestigious winery out in wine country. I have a vision of myself at 39, waking up at 10 AM on a tuesday and standing on my private balcony in my state-of-the-art spanish stucco villa. i am drinking a chardonnay despite the early hour whilst i observe my grape empire in my silk negligee. the only event planned for the day is a portrait sitting for my rottweilers (4 of them), for which i have arranged spaces in the family’s private art gallery. i am aging well despite the harsh california sun and my partner and i have a trip to tuscany planned for the fall. it’s a charmed life and i never tire of eating grapes

7: Top 5 favorite cryptids

1) Nessie (Nessie is a true lady I believe in her)

2) Mothman (not real)/ el chupacabra (possibly real)

3) the kraken (definitely real)

4) Bigfoot (not real but a legend anyways)

5) the yeti (real only in russia)

8: Do I Believe in Ghosts

It’s a complicated topic and of course we will likely never know for sure but the short answer is yes. in my opinion though, what ghosts are is the important question: are they really the dead coming back to haunt the earth? are they just manifestations of energy that the mind interprets into recognizable shapes? hallucinations? or is it wish fulfillment and the reduction of tensions on a heavy conscience? our brains are capable of powerful things, but it begs the question as to whether if a human desperately wants something to be true does the human mind have the power to make it true? c. s. lewis mentioned once that he never understood the ghost debate since, given that ghosts are real, they have no real power over us or anything interesting to say. but i believe that just goes to show how the mystery is far often more important than the solution.

9: Best/Worst Month of the Year

Best: May/November (spring/fall in full swing, holidays, time off school, great atmosphere) Worst: August (too dang hot & start of school)

10: What is one of my embarrassing secrets

I didn’t learn how to tie my shoes until I was nine (velcro ftw)

11: What is my Dream Date

We go cryptid hunting in the woods and have a picnic in the dark; you supply dogs for entertainment and guardianship purposes, i supply drinks and the cryptozoological myths we are chasing. Afterwards we get gelato

12: Top 3 Presidents

(this is based solely on arbitrary opinion not policies) 1) Barry Obama 2) Lincoln 3) Millard Fillmore (his name is funny)

Honorable mention: jimmy carter (he was the only noncorrupt man in office for like 30 years before barry)

13: Top 3 Vice Presidents

1) John Adams, if nothing else but for the drama this man caused 2) Walter Mondale 3) the big boy JB

Honorable Mention: Nichard Rixon

14: Top 3 Secretaries of State

1) Madeline Albright 2) Henry Clay 3) Elihu P. Washburn

(note: secretaries of state have the funniest names, like Hamilton Fish (1869-1877) rest easy Mr. Fish)

15: Worst Activity they make you do in middle school PE

Middle school P.E. is the worst in general but I’m going to say either grading you on your shotput skills (?) or BMI (??) or just the tuesday run in general (luther kids know)

16: Top 4 Worst Scents

1) Washing a knife covered in peanut butter 2) Really cheap perfume that they sell in checkout lines at convenience stores 3) Olives 4) organic deodorant

17: Top 7 Conspiracy Theories

1) The Denver Airport is an underground military fallout shelter designed to protect the 1% from nuclear warfare

2) A Roman pope adjusted the Gregorian calendar so that his reign would fall on 1000 AD so we’re actually living in the year 1783

3) Paul McCartney is dead and was replaced prior to the Seargant Pepper album by a lookalike named Billy Shears

4) The state of Wyoming is a myth

5) Avril Lavigne died and was replaced back in the early 00’s

6) The Titanic sank because too many people went back in time to prevent it from sinking

7) Not to be cliche George Bush and the military-industrial complex orchestrated the 9/11 attacks (jet fuel can’t melt steel beams and all that)

18: Inside jokes with myself

I’m not usually a “gamer” but every year without fail someone introduces me to a game exactly at finals time and I get hooked and it ruins my gpa and study habits. This year it’s Stardew Valley, last year it was Dream Daddy and the year before that it was undertale and I blame Jojo for absolutely all of it bc they are usually the instigator. Anyway, every year I joke with myself about what game will derail my grades this year

19: Top 5 Worst Tactile Sensations

1) Putting tights or leggings on wet, hairy legs post-shower

2) Running fingernails along cardboard

3) Sweating in a turtleneck

4) Having wet, salty hair after swimming that drips down onto your back and makes the top of your shirt damp

5) Reaching into a bag of grapes and only finding really soft, slimy ones

20: Best Cat I’ve ever encountered

One time my friend and I were leaving Romancing the Bean and walking back to her car and the fattest, fluffiest, softest ginger cat I’ve ever seen came trotting up to us and flopped over at our feet. He was such a good boy!!! And so friendly with strangers!! He was very well groomed and just wanted some love, and whenever we stopped petting him he would jump up onto our legs and leave little wet paw prints everywhere, I wanted to kidnap him

21: Best dog I’ve ever encountered

All of them

22: Best squirrel I’ve ever encountered

My dad has befriended a squirrel named Nutty that likes to sneak into his office when the door’s open and steals peanuts. if the door is closed he’ll bang on it and scream until we acknowledge him

23: If I were a furry what would my fursona be

I do not know because I am not a furry. HOWEVER someone who is well-versed in furry matters told me once that I would be one of those long, nervous dogs like a greyhound maybe and tbh I could see it

24: Favorite/Least Favorite Disneyland Rides

My favorite has always been haunted mansion, except for the halloween season when it’s nightmare before christmas and then it’s thunder mountain. I just love the outside atmosphere of the house bc I’m a slut for that southern gothic architecture style. Worst is splash mountain because there’s no seatbelt and LOGICALLY i know I don’t need one but it doesn’t stop me from having a panic attack every time I get on and we go up the big hill as I worry about being flung from the toboggan across the park

25: Least favorite restaurant within 10 mile radius of my house

I live over by Porto’s so I am #blessed to be surrounded by some really dope food. However there is a hipster place a couple of blocks over in Toluca Lake that only serves bizarre food like fried chicken in maple syrup with waffle fries and it’s surprisingly bland, so the lack of taste combines with how expensive it is probably makes it the worst (it’s also forgettable bc I can’t even remember its name)

26: Rank of JBHS history department according to how good of a parent they would be

9.Mr. Bixler - I have never had this man so I can’t say shit. NA/10

8. Ms. Snowden - I’ve never had her either but I’ve heard enough about her between Burroughs and Luther to know that this woman is kind of scary, intimidating and uptight, all things I personally do not desire in a parent. 2/10

7. Mr. Hatch - I love Scott Hatch but he is a tremendous mess of a man. Judging by his wife’s instagram photos his idea of parenting is taking naps while cuddling his children and letting his wife do the rest of the hard work. Plus he seems like the type to be too wrapped up in his own melodrama and too busy hangin out with his best friend Edward Frankenbush playing Xbox to pay much attention to his kids. However, he did skip the first day of school to take his daughter to kindergarten so he gets points for that. 4/10

6. Mr. Lee - Mr. Lee is a very respectable guy who seems like he does a very good job providing for his family. He’s ranked as middle of the road because he’s a naturally private person so I can’t speak to his parenting tactics or personality much, however the few stories he shared about his daughter were very cute and he does the typical teacher/parent things like making her his screensaver on his computer. Overall, a very quality dad and man, 6.5/10

5. Mr. Fitz - Kyle Fitzgerald is similarly a mess of a man, but the difference between him and Scott Hatch is that he seems to make an investment in his kid. He always talks about current events in terms of what idiocy his poor daughter will have to put up with which shows his devotion to her well-being and survival in a confusing world. Also he brought her in to go swimming once while I was working at Verdugo and I got to see them having a great time on the splash pad and it warmed my heart. Great dad 7/10

4. Mr. Piper - Richard Piper is such a good father but in a detached way. He loves talking about his son and wife just as much as he loves talking about planes. The real kicker? When he talks about taking his son ON planes and geeking out over history together. He also asked all of his classes for people looking for tutoring work when his son was struggling in math which is so cute. Good guy Rick gets an 8/10.

2. (tie) Mr. Frankenbush and Ms. Hacker - Ed and Jan are both beautiful people. I know Ms. Hacker is #divisive but I personally am a big fan and would die to have her guidance in my daily life. She’s always interested in what’s going on in people’s lives and sure she’s definitely chaotic but it’s a loving chaos that’s only looking to help other people. I’ve not had the pleasure of having Mr. Frankenbush but he always is hanging out with his son Joey and they love coming to the Burroughs pool and playing water polo together; they spend a lot of time together since his wife works so much and they have such a buddy friendship. Both of these lovely people are super devoted and invested in the youth and would make great parents. 9/10

1. Mr. Clark - A god. We don’t deserve this man and I can’t sing his praises enough. Were were all lucky enough to be Greg’s children I don’t think evil would exist in the world. 11/10

27: Worst book I read for school

Hands down Tale of Two Cities since it’s the only one I’ve never finished. Dickens just doesn’t do it for me I guess plus I get really tired of the one dimensional characters and how much he romanticizes Lucy

28: Favorite little-known tidbit of history

When Richard Nixon went to Soviet Russia as Eisenhower’s VP during the cold war his secret service agents detected higher than usual amounts of radiation coming from Nixon’s hotel room, so they started talking loudly about it bc they knew the Soviets had planted buds and were listening. Within like an hour the radiation had vanished and they never heard anything about it again so man Soviet’s ain’t sly

29: 5 Places in Burbank That Are Definitely Haunted

1. Coral Cafe for obvious reasons, look up the ghost on youtube

2. The View seems like it would have some kind of el chupacabra-esque creature prowling around, maybe a mountain lion hybrid

3. Fry’s Electronics

4. The abandoned train station under the bridge

5. The LA river by the equestrian center

30: Rank of all the AP classes i took in order of entertainment value

9) AP Bio: I liked bio but the class wasn’t very entertaining. There’s not a lot of humor in bacteria and cells, and Mr. Van Loo is much more of a calming than a humorous and chaotic presence, so overall it takes the hit as the least entertaining class.

8) AP Stats: Math is similarly not very entertaining, but Mrs. Hollingshed’s erratic personality gives it the edge over Bio. Definitely more humorous than expected of a math class.

7) AP Econ: I bombed econ and business/money isn’t very entertaining but Jan Hacker made it so thanks to her chaos (love her though).

6) AP Euro: European history is incredibly iconic because, spoiler alert, Europeans are idiots and historically speaking everything that can go wrong, will go wrong. I just wish I remember it since I think idiot sophomore Lily slept through most of the class so needless to say I didn’t soak up much of the entertainment value. If it were up to me I’d take it over again and maybe stay awake this time.

5) AP Lit: Lit was just as much challenging and intimidating as it was entertaining, so it balances out. Mrs. Caluya is notably iconic and the books we read were all pretty interesting so it gets a high vote from me.

3) (tie) Gov/APUSH: History is always entertaining in my eyes since people do stupid things out of pettiness. These two tie for different reasons: Mr. Piper is a great teacher and that mock trial we did for the industrial age was great, but the subject was also extremely entertaining overall. I loved reading about how John Adams made making fun of him illegal. Gov was mostly just entertaining because of Mr. Hatch and how salty his is about the government. His sarcastic comments about how corrupt everything is gave life to an otherwise pretty lifeless subject.

2) AP Lang: aka the class with no curriculum, or the Kuglen Hour. I love Mr. Kuglen so much and he is responsible for 99% of the amusement in the class. I somehow learned how to be a better writer by listening to him complain about Trump and everything else under the sun for an hour every day so it was well worth it. Also who doesn’t like a class where you read Dave Sedaris for homework?

1) AP Psych: Without question, this is the epitome of entertainment. Psychology is just a mishmash of people trying to figure out why humans are as stupid as we are and why we do dumb things. Add in all the iconic psychologists and history and a class led by salty Mr. Hatch and you have a recipe for an entertaining year.

31: Top 5 Iconic JBHS teachers that I NEVER had (no particular order)

Mr. Peebles: A quirky man who I would have loved were I any good at math whatsoever

Mr. Arakelian: Band kids hate him but the stories I hear are so frickin iconic that I wish I could be an honorary band kid for a day and see the horror firsthand. If you have Arakelian stories please send them my way I’d love to hear about your pain

Mr. Frankenbush: A sad boi who everyone should get to experience and I regret never having.

Dr. Madooglu: He was so kind to me after the failed anti-trump lunchtime protest last year and he didn’t even know me. I wish I could’ve experienced him as a teacher.

Mr. Clark: The man, the myth, the legend

32: List of some iconic swim horror stories

Charlie breaking his hand after he lost a race and punched the gutter as hard as he could

Some idiot JV boys smearing poop all over the Burbank High locker room

The entire JV team getting Burroughs swim banned from Islands

Me almost passing out at the Los Amigos meet last year after I didn’t eat or sleep all day

Everyone always feigning illness or injury to get out of swimming the 4x100 relay

Getting in trouble for watching boys volleyball practice instead of doing the weight room sets

Every. Single. 5AM morning practice before school.

When coach martin finally figured out how periods work and suddenly we couldn’t use that as an excuse for not swimming anymore

33: What Office Character Would I Be

A mix between Angela, Oscar, and Kelly (we love our dramatic icons)

34: #1 Thing I’d Bring With Me to a Desert Island

Castaway for instructional purposes

35: What Would I call my memoir

Schadenfreude

36: 7 Best Buzzfeed Unsolved Episodes (no particular order)

This is one of my favorite shows so these are my recommendations:

1. 3 Horrifying Cases of Ghosts and Demons - one of the very first and best episodes; a 45-minute special where the Boys investigate the Winchester house in San Francisco, the Island of the Dolls in Mexico, and the Sallie House in Kansas

2. The Strange Disappearance of D. B. Cooper - A man going by the name of Dan Cooper hijacked a plane, demanded money and passage to Mexico, and then at some point jumped out of the plane and was never seen again. To this day no one knows his identity or his fate despite some of the ransom money turning up in a river somewhere.

3. The Haunted Halls of Waverly Hills Hospital - Ryan and Shane explore an abandoned asylum in Pennsylvania and some creepy stuff ensues. One of the best supernatural episodes

4. The Thrilling Gardner Museum Heist - An almost hilarious story (with reenactments!) about a seriously inept security guard and the loss of some of the world’s most beloved paintings. This was one of the first episodes after they started making money and the production quality is off the charts

5. The Scandalous Murder of William Desmond Taylor - Another excellent reenactment story about one of Hollywood’s first and biggest scandals, the suspicious murder of a leading film producer.

6. The Enigmatic Death of the Isdal Woman - A woman’s body was found suspiciously burned in the European wilderness and no one knows who she is or how exactly she was killed. Watch if you like espionage!

7. The Strange Killing of Ken Rex McElroy - An entire town seemingly rose up to murder a douchey, violent pedophile. One of the only episodes that’s actually happy?

37: 6 Things I would Have Changed About High School

1. Definitely would have joined yearbook as soon as I could

2. Wouldn’t have forced myself to swim for all 4 years; if the passion’s gone then you shouldn’t force it. It’s just a sign that you need to move on to better things

3. I would’ve taken more AP’s and maybe tried another stem ap class. I’ve always been self-conscious about how bad I am at math, but I’ve gotten a little better over the years and instead of being too afraid to challenge myself I would’ve liked to see how I could do and prove myself.

4. Worrying less about grades!! I killed myself over my grades for like three years and then I just kind of let myself go. I would have let myself have who knows how many more hours of sleep and taken the L on a couple of assignments; I’m still learning that my health is more important than perfection.

5. Meeting the right people! I wouldn’t have restricted myself to a few friends and would have branched out more by joinng stuff like JSA. It sucks meeting the right people your senior year and realizing that I was hanging out with the wrong people this whole time.

6. Spanish instead of French.

38: What Would I Name My Farm Animals if I had A Farm

I’d definitely name them all after female Shakespearian characters. My cows would be Hippolyta and Titania from Midsummer, my horse would be Desdemona from Othello, my chickens would be Gonereil, Regan, and Cordelia from King Lear and my goat would be named Gertrude from Hamlet

39: Most Useless Talent I Have

I have a really strong internal clock so when I don’t think about it too hard and guess intuitively I can usually predict how much time has passed/what time it is without looking at a clock. It’s really only useful for estimating how much time I wasted standing in the shower staring at the wall

40: Top Regret After Writing This:

Writing this instead of studying for my econ test in seven hours.

Thanks for reading!

#writer's project #thanks jen for assigning this i had fun

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