#once all i heard was alabama but apparently not

[hiddenworldofmary]

take me home country roads sang by lana del rey has me in such a massive chokehold all day

[haruhar-u]

Just your average CEO novel yep definitely

CWs: Alcohol usage, cursing, drawn out suggestive conversation (humorously), one character mentions throwing up but doesn’t actually

Co-written with @chocolate-cat-bread and a friend that doesnt have tumblr

taglist: @edith-is-a-cat @the-banana-0verlord @angelhairpastawithherbs @v-anrouge @twistwonderlanddevotee @ferris-the-wheel @twst-om-lover @xen-blank @whspermy-name @cheezy-moon (lmk if you wish to be added or removed)

definition of chinese words used

Chapter one

The first thing I heard when I woke up was the song “Sweet Home Alabama” blaring loudly from my phone, but in Mandarin, and that was all I needed to throw off the covers and turn off the alarm, cursing my past self for losing a bet with my cousin and ending up with this ringtone. 

I checked the time and sure enough, it was 6:30. I was expected to be at work by 7:00 am.

“Oh shit, I’m gonna be late.” I quickly put my hair up in a messy bun and put on a white dress shirt, a beige plaid vest and a matching pencil skirt.

I hurried down the stairs, nearly tripping while I hastily shoved my socks on. It took all the self-control in me not to string a bunch of curses together that would make even a sailor flustered, as my socks were refusing to cooperate with me.

Once my socks weren’t threatening to slip off my feet, I headed to the kitchen to grab a slice of toasted bread and shove it in my mouth, before grabbing my shoulder bag and heading out the door.

It took me a while to unlock the car door, my head was all over the place after somehow getting the position as the CEO’s assistant. Apparently, the previous one had quit the job, leaving the position open to anyone with experience.

I applied mostly because I had experience in a few of my previous odd jobs, and also so I could finally put that degree to use. During the interview, I may have stumbled over my words quite a bit, and I was sweating profusely that I was pretty sure even the interviewer could tell.

While I was driving, I noticed two elderly people yelling at each other in the middle of the street. There were at least a dozen other cars that were stopped right in front of the arguing old people.

Why are they arguing on the street of all places? I wondered, not even irritated by the fact that I was probably not going to make it on time. More so concerned about the fact that they could get run over if someone wasn’t being careful.

“You BASTARD! I told you to wash the damn dishes, and yet here you are, eating fried donuts! Hiya!” The old lady yelled, yanking the old man by the ear, who held onto the fried donuts for dear life.

“I was going to get these fried donuts for you though, but clearly that doesn’t matter to you!” The old man snapped back.

The old lady looked even more pissed off than before, if that was even possible. “Why didn’t you do the dishes first before getting them, huh?!”

“Because the donuts were 50% off the original price, and it was the last hour before they went back to the original price, lah!” The old man said like it was the obvious thing to do. Chiu could see the logic in that, 50% off was a pretty good deal after all.

The old lady rolled her eyes, most likely used to these kinds of antics. “Fine, but only because 50% off is good deal lah, now come home and do dishes!” She then yanked the old man by the ear away from the street, ignoring his cries of pain.

I blinked, once, twice, processing the unusual yet somehow normal scene. That was… interesting. At least everything was resolved in the end, and fortunately, it didn’t seem like a domestic abuse case or anything, which is not very uncommon, much to the dismay of any normal person.

Traffic carried on as usual, and I managed to arrive at the building with at least ten minutes to spare. Patting down my hair and outfit, I walked in as professionally as I could, trying not to trip over my brand-new heels, while I headed to the front desk.

I immediately noticed a very pretty lady at the front desk, with her dark hair in a high ponytail, wearing a pale pink cardigan over her work attire.

“Oh uh, hi. I’m the CEO’s new uh…assistant.” I said and internally facepalmed myself for my blunder. First day on the job and I couldn’t even talk to my first colleague without stuttering like a fool.

The receptionist smiled, her eyes crinkling along with it. “You must be…ah, Lien Chiu? Nice name, by the way.”

I fidgeted, a bit flustered by the compliment. “Thanks, it’s um…I’m from rural Taiwan, we speak Hokkien there.”

The receptionist lady nods. “Figured as much, your accent gives it away. I’m Hujin, if you couldn’t tell already, I’m the receptionist, and I have to answer a bunch of phone calls and greet visitors and such.”

“Sounds interesting,” I say, trying to be polite. “So uh, where is the CEO’s office?”

“Ah, it’s on the 50th floor. For your sanity, you should take the elevator. About the CEO, he might be a bit busy…but I give you full permission to bother him.” Hujin winks, a mischievous smile on her face.

“Thank you.” I pretended to not notice the scheming grin on the smaller girl’s face.

She spun around in her chair. “Ah, no worries.” Hujin then paused, fixing her gaze on me like a cat. She pursed her lips together, rummaging through her purse before pulling out a pastel, rainbow star hair clip.

“Here,” She said quietly and tenderly, reaching over the desk and tucking the hair clip in my hair, pushing back my curtain bangs. I didn’t even know it was blocking my line of sight until she put it up for me. Why was it so warm all of a sudden? Why was she so close? Is there something wrong with me?

“Oh uh, th-“ I was about to say, but she waved it off.

“No need, now go on and bother my-the uh…CEO. Yeah.”

I nod, ducking my head as my thoughts swirled in my head and my heart raced at incredible speeds. If I had a strange look on my face the entire time I was in the elevator, no one commented.

The CEO had their office on the top floor in the corner. Stepping in, there was a fireplace adorned with various pictures of what seemed to be a family, and a bookshelf filled with books that looked like they were never read. There was a dark oak desk with a laptop placed on it. Behind the desk, there was a man who appeared to be in his mid to late twenties. His dark hair was mainly well kept with only a few strands astray. He wore a professional-looking suit. He was slumped over, holding his head up with his hand. He immediately perked up once he saw me. I could feel my heart beating rapidly again, and my breakfast threatening to somersault out of my stomach. I forced it back down, it would be really bad if I threw up right now.

“You must be my new assistant, correct? The last one quit after he went back to America…Oh, I’m Li Haoyu.”

“Yeah um,” I swallowed, trying to get myself to stop panicking. Stay calm, my mind unhelpfully supplied. “My name is uh…Chiu. So, is there anything I can help with? Like, um…paperwork?” I offered, trying not to sound as awkward and wrecked with nerves as I felt.

“I have my schedule in the printer.” He gestured to a fancy black printer against the back wall. “I think there might be some paperwork, I forgot to sign...not sure.”

I went to the printer and checked the inside, and sure enough, there was some unsigned paperwork. I take it out of the printer, find an empty seat and begin to sign the paperwork. It wasn’t much honestly, I just needed to sign using the company’s signature. The signature became less and less clear each time, probably because I was running out of ink.

Haoyu tapped me on the shoulder, interrupting my work, he was carrying a tray with tea on it with one hand. “Do you want a cup?”

“Oh, um, t-thank you so much.” I stammered, a bit flushed and reached out to take a cup of tea from the tray, almost dropping the cup from how shaky my hands were. I went back to signing paperwork, pressing my pen against the paper and frowning when no ink came out.

Haoyu was still there, sipping on his tea with a calm expression on his face. He looked very handsome, no doubt about it. The thought of approaching him, and disturbing him, made me more anxious than I already was.

I eventually sucked up the embarrassment, inching closer to him with the sad, inkless pen in my hand. “Um…excuse me…” I pushed on, despite Haoyu’s look of concern. “Do you have an extra pen or something? I-uh…the pen. Ran out of ink.”

He nodded, rummaged through one of the drawers of his desk and handed me a really expensive pen. “Keep it. Also, what meetings do I have for today?”

I flip through his schedule, trying to find the one that had the present one on it. “You have a meeting with two clients, they own a very wealthy private tech business. It says that they want to buy a license to sell a camera brand owned by this company. It says their names are uh…Yuen Zixuan and Huang Mingze?”

Haoyu let out a sigh. “Those two again?”

Surprise. “Wait, you know them?”

“I went to university with them…”

“Ah, I see. Am I required to come with you for this meeting?” I asked. I probably should have known if it was or not, but I may or may not have skimmed through the job description. So asking stupid questions it is.

“Not required, recommended, though.”  He probably wasn’t judging, yet it still felt like he was staring into my soul. I averted my gaze, looking at the floor, then the wall, then the wooden chair that was very, very interesting. Just so the man wouldn’t stare into my soul and figure out that my left sock had a massive hole where my ankle was.

Even though I wasn’t required, it was recommended, that was basically just another way of saying it was required, at least for overachievers like me. “I’m coming with, then,”

“Can you tell me exactly when this meeting is?”

I handed him the schedule and pointed at the timetable where the meeting takes place. “It’s at 9:30 am, so 2-3 hours or so from now.”

He nodded, “You can do whatever until then.”

“Okay, thanks.” I take a long sip of my tea, emptying the entire cup. ‘Is there…a sink nearby?” I chewed on my lip, wondering if I should even be asking. Maybe they didn’t use sinks, or maybe they had their own dishwasher because only rich people can afford dishwashers.

“Oh… I think in the staff room. Don’t worry about the cup, just leave it on the tray outside and someone will come pick it up to be cleaned.”

“Wait so I don’t have to wash it…? I mean…of course. Uh, sorry about that.” I make my way out of his office and to the staff room in embarrassment.

—-2-3 hours later—

“Hiii!” Mingze says

“Oh, uh, hello. How’s up? I mean life?” I rambled, my body at least five degrees hotter than normal from how nervous I was.

“Is Mr Li late again?” Zixuan asks, glancing down at a watch. He spoke with a Cantonese accent.

I shrug. ‘Probably. Is it normal for him to be late?”

“Yes, especially now that he doesn't have an assistant to wake him up.” Zixuan sighs. “He was notorious for being late in university.”

“Oh god, does that mean I have to be his personal alarm clock,” I grumble. “I did not sign up for this sh-to be a human clock.”

“Assuming you’re his new assistant, yes. Have fun, I was the human alarm clock 8 years ago” He says sarcastically. “Oh. He also tends to forget his wallet and phone often.”

I groan, burying my face in my hands. “So I’m going to have to be his human wallet too…”

“Luckily for you, that’s usually Huijin.” 

“The…pretty receptionist girl?”

“Yes. Don’t ask.” He checks his watch again and impatiently taps his foot.

Haoyu finally shows up 15 minutes later. “My apologies.” He takes a spot at the head of the table after pouring everyone a glass of either water or tea.

I pull the cup of tea closer to me, desperately needing an energy boost after navigating the hell that is buildings with 50 floors. “Apology accepted for now. So um, you said you wanted to buy the license for…this camera?” 

“Surely this could have been done in an email,” Haoyu says in an exasperated tone, rummaging for a piece of paper. 

“Didn’t get much sleep, did we?” Zixuan retorts, rolling his eyes. 

“Can we pretend to be civil for at least five minutes?!” I grumbled, before immediately realizing my mistake. Oh fuck. Is this really how I’m losing my job?

Haoyu clears his throat, using a fist to cover his mouth“Anyway, the licenses.” He hands Zixuan and Mingze two pieces of paper. “Sign here, then write a cheque then they’re yours.”

Mingze immediately grabs a pen and signs both cheques. “Thanks, dude! You’re the best!”

Zixuan elbows Mingze in the ribcage. “Did you seriously not read the fine print? We could be selling our souls for all we know “

“Fine print? Wait uh…oops.” Mingze said sheepishly.

“I understand, you’re not the only one who doesn’t read the fine print,” I admitted. I wasn’t quite sure what possessed me to admit something like that out loud. Maybe I was just really stupid.

Haoyu rose from his seat, “Once you have finished going over the documents please give them to my assistant, I believe this meeting is dismissed.” He was oddly cranky.

“Okay, no need to be a grump,” Mingze said grumpily as he painstakingly read the documents. Sporadically, he would look to Zixuan, who would softly pat his back with a look of affection, and then throw his head into his arms in despair. I watched very concerned as Mingze looked like he was about to rip the documents apart.

“Here, I’ll read them.” Zixuan dragged the documents from Mingze towards himself with a finger. He spent about 5 long minutes reading before signing and pushing them over to me.

“Thank you. Uh, you can go now.” I took the papers, shuffled them in order and then put them in a folder to do later because I didn’t feel like doing it right now.

After finishing all the paperwork, which took a lot longer than it should have because my wrist pain started acting up again. I let out a sigh of relief, flex my wrist and do a quick stretch before checking my cellphone. I had a couple of unread emails that were mostly just junk files and a new...text message?

Li Haoyu: I apologize for my mood earlier, may I invite you to dinner after work with Hujin nd my brother to make up for it?

Lien Chiu: It’s alright :) and sure!

Lien Chiu: Where is the place?

Li Haoyu: It’s a hot pot place best in Shanghai, around 3 blocks down. I usually get a taxi.

Lien Chiu: Oh

Lien Chiu: What time do I arrive there? You said after work, but I would like a specific time, if that’s ok :)

Li Haoyu: Right after, I’ll pick you up from your office.

Lien Chiu: Ok thanks

I turn off my phone and turn on my laptop, where I mark a bunch of emails as read and play some music while I’m at it. 

Later, I hear a knock at my office door. “Miss Lien? Mr Li wanted me to tell you that the taxi is here” An employee called.

“Coming,” I called.

Outside there wasn’t a taxi but a limo instead and Haoyu was outside casually chatting with the driver and Huijin as if they were old friends. 

“Oh hey, Chiu! Come on in!” Hujin pats the seat beside her. “Sit next to me, please! I’m so much better than Haoyu.”

“Yeah sure.” Haoyu scoffs at Hujin with a smirk on his face.

Hujin sticks her tongue out at Haoyu. “I’m obviously cuter, and at least I don’t always forget my wallet. And my keys. And my phone.” She says teasingly.

“You two…seem close?” 

Haoyu bites his lip “Friends from college.” He says rather quickly. “Also speaking of forgetting my wallet and phone…”

“NOT AGAIN!” Hujin yelled, repeatedly whacking Haoyu with a pink bunny neck cushion, which made me snort with amusement.

“I’ll e-transfer you later tonight? I’m paying by the way.” He just stared deadpan at the pink bunny neck pillow, casually blocking it with his arm. 

Hujin just glared at him. “Fine.” She paused in her relentless attack on Haoyu with the neck pillow, before whacking Haoyu with a bear plush.

“Okay, you can stop beating him…” I said, attempting to grab the bear plush from Hujin. Every time I would try to grab it, she would shove the plush in my face, perhaps she was trying to use the fluffiness to distract me, which totally wasn’t working!!

Then the limo stops in front of this fancy-ass-looking restaurant. They got out of the limo, walked in and were seated by an oddly formal hostess. At the table was a guy who looked almost exactly like Haoyu, the only difference was this dude was dressed a lot more casually and his hairstyle was slightly different. 

“Are you by any chance made in a lab?” I blurted out, before immediately having the urge to descend into the earth’s core.

“Uh…pardon?”

I looked at Haoyu and Hujin, the former with an awkward smile on his face and the latter stifling her snickers with her hand covered over her mouth.

“Well, it’s just that…You look exactly like Haoyu. Except that your hair and clothes are a bit different.”

“We’re twins.” Haoyu points out.

I mentally facepalmed. “Ah. Right. Well,” I retorted, trying to defend my honour. “In my defence, you never know if someone is made in a lab or not.”

Hujin’s eyes darkened with mischief. “You’re right actually, both Haoyu and Huifen are made in a lab. I’m the one born the standard way.”

“Hey! Stop with the conspiracies!” Huifen interjected. 

Haoyu only rolls his eyes at Huijin’s comment, “All 3 of us were born because our parents had sex.”

“Yeah, well our parents had sex in a lab and then had you guys, meanwhile I was actually born in a hospital,” Hujin replied. Meanwhile, I was recovering from shock, at Hujin’s crude sense of humour, the way she took my joke and pushed it to the limit.

“Why are you more invested in this conspiracy than me?” I asked Hujin, very concerned for the way she seemed so dead set on her opinion. 

“Dad told me it was in a private jet ...For all 3 of us” Haoyu replies, his eyes scanning the menu. 

“What?!” Huifen, Hujin and I yelled at the same time. Hujin marched up to Haoyu and poked him in the chest.

“Are you being serious or silly?!” She said, staring up at him with a scowl on her face. It was really cute, honestly.

“Dad told me because I asked why there were drawers full of condoms.” Haoyu was probably serious as he didn’t even crack a smile.

“You guys can afford to make love in a private jet?!” I shrieked, pulling at my hair.

“You can’t?” Haoyu asks dumbfounded, staring right into my soul.

“Well, I’m sorry I don’t have a million dollars to spend on a private jet!” I retorted, exasperated and recovered from a culture and lifestyle shock.

“I could let you fuck in our private jet, wait what,” Huifen said nonchalantly.

“WHAT?!” I stared at Huifen. “I don’t even know how to fuck, let alone in a private jet! Is there, like a…difference?”

“I don’t know how to fuck either.” Haoyu replied bluntly. Hujin elbowed him again, sending him a deadpan glance.

“Aaaanyway, enough sex talk, and let’s eat. I’m starving and I’d rather not starve to death while the last thing I hear is about the differences between regular citizen sex and expensive private jet sex.” Hujin declared, putting her hands on her hips.

“Bitch, we didn’t even order any food yet. We scared the waiter off.” Huifen objected

Hujin glared at Huifen. “And who’s fault is that? You gotta stop projecting on me, gēge.”

“Wait hold on, you guys are siblings?” I exclaimed. Honestly, why was I even surprised? Even without the obvious slipup, I should have figured it out long before, it was basically hinted at me since Hujin told me to be a little shit to Haoyu when I first arrived, and the fact that they said their parents had sex. Fuck me.

“Yeah, it was kind of implied when we said that we were all from our parents having sex in a private jet,” Huifen states.

“Enough with the private jet sex!” Hujin shrieked, 

Haoyu’s gaze hardened, “Do not tell anyone.” Then his gaze softens again, “Besides dìdì, maybe she thought it was a gangbang.”

“I SAID ENOUGH SEX!!!” Huijin screamed even louder, which definitely made everyone sitting at neighbouring tables concerned. If they were not already, that is.

I hold my hands up in surrender. “Okay, I wasn’t going to anyway. Although…are you sure you trust me enough to not…slip up or something?”

Hujin grabbed my hands and I nearly jumped at the sudden touch. “Of course we trust you, silly goose! Besides, we’ll just pay them a million dollars to shut them up. Now,” She grabs all of us by the arms. “Let’s go order something before A PRETTY YOUNG LADY STARVES TO DEATH!!”

Haoyu waves down a waiter and puts in an order. The waiter looks at all of them with an odd look, before gasping.

“No way! You must be…you must be Haoyu, CEO of Revocorp! And you look, wait no, are you Huifen! I love your cosplays so much! Woah,” The waiter does a double take at Hujin, who was dressed in a pink strawberry cardigan, a pastel rainbow-striped gown and brown Uggs. “Aww, aren’t you adorable!”

“Thank you!” Hujin beamed. Her smile is also cute…I think with a pang of jealousy.

“No problem, ah right, your orders?” The waiter pulls out a pen from their ear and a notepad, ready to write down our orders.

“Chiu, do you drink?” Haoyu asks.

“I drank vodka once…? Does that count?” I say.

Haoyu turns to the waiter “This set.” He says, pointing to a certain spot on the menu. Then he leans in to whisper something to the waiter “And a bottle of your most expensive wine plus 4 glasses.”

“WHAT! HOW ARE YOU AFFORDING ALL THIS?!”

“Money.”  

I glared. “Yeah, I know that, you dunce. But like, wha-we never had this back home! Oh, wait, do I have to pay my share or…” I search through my wallet, and well…I had a couple of coins, two $20 bills…and my credit card which was definitely going to expire soon.

He puts his hand on mine, “Don’t worry about it”

“Oh…” My brain short-circuited for a good moment before smiling shyly. “Thanks.”

A fit of giggles erupted from Hujin, who was shaking in her seat from laughter. Huifen nudged her, but she continued to laugh. Her laugh immediately dropped to a frown when she found that the waiter put down kids utensils, with the Doraemon bowl and colored cutlery.

“Is this…oh this has to be a joke,” Hujin grumbled.

Haoyu meanwhile was smirking at Huijin’s grumble. Wait, wasn’t he whispering to the waiter earlier?

“I think it was Haoyu’s doing,” I told Hujin, who immediately stood up and glared down at Haoyu.

“You! It was your idea for them to give me children’s cutlery! This is ruining my reputation! And I’m 26!” Hujin shrieked dramatically, miming stabbing Haoyu in the throat with the plastic knife.

“I mean…” I say, as an attempt at being a devil’s advocate. “Kids menus are cheaper?”

Hujin scrunched her nose at me before scowling at Haoyu. “You jerk! You know damn well that you can afford 3 adult meals! You could afford this entire restaurant!”

“Baby sister for a reason.” Haoyu shrugs, brushing her off.

“I’m 26…” Hujin pouts. I pat her on the back comfortingly.

“There there, some of us are just born to look like 12-year-olds.” I teased.

“Not you too!” Hujin wailed dramatically, grabbing onto my sweater vest. “You were on my side, I trusted you…and you just betrayed me…were we ever meant to be?”

I grin. “What are you, a theatre kid?”

“I took drama in high school.” She props her chin on her hands. “Guess it never wore off.”

Then the waiter shows up with a bottle of fine wine and Haoyu gracefully pours a glass for everyone at the table, even making sure to put some in the coloured cup that Huijin had.

“Okay not gonna lie, this cup is actually kinda cute.” Hujin says as she stares at the wine in her coloured cup.

The waiter shoots a glance at Hujin and she sighs, pulling out her ID card. After a few moments, the waiter nods and leaves her drink alone.

“Does that happen often?”

“Yes.” All three of them say, all at once. 

“Used to happen to Haoyu and I before last year.” Huifen sighs. “We’re getting old.”

Hujin rolled her eyes. “Tell that to the middle-aged and seniors, they’ll think you’re crazy. Although…” she grins mischievously. “Are you sure none of you have back pain?

“We’re 27,” Haoyu mutters. “I am hunched over at a desk all day though.”

I nudged Haoyu. “I have wrist pain, so I guess you’re not alone. Probably since I’ve been writing every day for over 5 hours since I was a teen.’

Hujin took a swig from the sippy cup of wine. “Woah, body pain. Couldn’t be me.”

“Because you actually have time to stretch. Lucky.” Haoyu grumbles.

Said woman swirls her cup around, letting the wine slosh around the cup. “Even a minute of stretching out your arms could help, you bum.”

“Hmph, I don’t even have time for that. Besides, how would stretching my arms help with neck and back pain.” Huifen sighs. “I hope we can eat soon so I don’t have to be insulted by my own sister. I wonder how Mingze deals with bratty younger sisters.”

“I’ll have you now I’m only a brat 40% of the time!’ Hujin hissed. I couldn’t help but notice the way she looked like a very grumpy, rainbow, sparkly earring-wearing cat.

“40% is still a lot…” I mumbled before immediately being pinched on the cheeks by Hujin. ‘Ow ow ow, I take it back, help me-”

Then the waiter awkwardly places the food on the table. 

“Hey uh, I’d really appreciate some help here,” I stare pointedly at Huifen and Haoyu while escaping a headlock from Hujin. 

“You’re on your own,” Haoyu says, taking off his blazer then, putting some meat into the pot.

“Bastard,” I hiss at him. Huifen averts his gaze and I glare at him too. “Hey don’t look away! You’re also a bastard.”

Hujin then pulls me into a bear hug. “I guess we’re all bastards then!” She leans her head on my shoulder.

“Yeah…” I notice her head on my shoulder and stop in my tracks, all of a sudden the room went from hot to a boiler room. I’m pretty sure my brain was thoroughly cooked, better than the most well-done of steaks.

Haoyu puts a steak on my plate. “It’s Wagyu, you should try it.”

“Okay, uh, bon appetit.” I poked at the steak with my fork, before sighing and trying to cut it open with a fork and a knife, then sighing again and was almost tempted to just grab the wagyu by the end and shove the whole thing in my mouth, with chopsticks or something.

“Silly, you don’t need to cut it. But I’m sure someone here wouldn’t mind helping you,” Hujin teases, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Of course that certain someone wouldn’t mind helping their girlfriend,” Huifen smirks. I blink at him stupidly, trying to process what he said for a solid two seconds before the realization hits me with all the grace of being clonked in the head with a brick. Oh.

“No.” Interjects Haoyu. Still, he leans over with his knife and proceeds to cut the steak for me. 

“You really didn’t have to,” I say, while Hujin sulks about Haoyu being a ‘party-pooper’ and ‘old man wheezer’. “I was going to just eat it whole anyway.

Haoyu completely ignores Huijin, “Don’t worry about it.” He smiles ever so slightly. “Besides, you shouldn’t eat it whole. You will choke and die.”

“I’m too powerful to choke and die,” I deadpan back, picking up a large piece of steak and devouring it. Hujin looks at me with a mixture of awe and concern.

“Woah, I’m so trying that.” Hujin doesn’t even bother trying to cut her steak open, instead tearing off a huge chunk and swallowing. Her face turns a bright shade of red and she pounds on her chest while taking a huge swig of alcohol

Haoyu gently pats Hujin on the back, then clears his throat and he kinda glares at Hujin as if he’s trying to reprimand her for her table manners. Hujin glares back, not getting the memo about table manners. “Also don’t drink too fast, you’re going to get drunk.”

“Do we have a feral animal for a sister or what?” Huifen asks, half-joking, half-not.

“Mother would have killed her for this,” Haoyu replies cutting off a piece of steak. “And Father would have given all 3 of us a lecture on how we are representatives of our family 24/7”

“Thanks for that, now I’m going to choke on meat even more out of spite,” Hujin coughed out, covering her very rosy red face with a napkin.

“What are you, straight?” I quip.

“I’m whatever you want me to be, darling,” Hujin said in a sultry Southern accent before bursting into a fit of giggles so uncontrollable that Huifen jumped out of his chair in shock.

“I’m calling her an Uber home later…” Haoyu murmurs.

I nod. “Please,” I say while trying to avoid being suffocated while Hujin wrapped her arms around me and rested her head against the crook of my neck. “Help me…” I tried to move Hujin’s head away from me to take a bite of steak but gave up when she burrowed her head in further.

Haoyu removed Huijin’s arms from around me softly and guided her head towards himself. “Actually, I’ll just take her back to my place tonight.”

“Nooo,” Hujin whined. “She’s warmer than you. And more soft.” She grinned widely, a soft giggle forming on her lips. I suddenly felt my face heat up, probably because of how hot the steak I ate was. Most definitely.

“Huifen, can you take away her wine please?” Haoyu asks. “Erm, I also forgot my wallet so…”

Huifen threw his hands up in frustration. “Are you fucking kidding me?! This is the third time this week! Fine, I’ll pay though.” He pulled out his wallet, dropped 3 hundred-dollar bills in the little basket and waved for a waiter to come and collect it.

“I’ll e-transfer you once I get back to the office. Also Language we're in public.”

“Yeah yeah, no need.” Huifen waves it off. “It’s only a hundred dollars.”

“No no, I got it.” Haoyu waves off Huifen’s wave off.

“Don’t forget the e-transfer then,” Huifen sighs.

“Rich bitches,” I interrupt them while putting down twenty-five cents as a tip. “Good enough.” 

Haoyu helps Huijin to her feet, “Do you have your own ride or do you want to join us in the limo?” He looks at Huifen. 

“I’ll join you guys, a bit of family bonding I guess.” Huifen sighed and put his wallet back into his bag, and slung it over his shoulder. “Let’s go I guess.”

“Don’t fall” Haoyu warns Huijin, still he walks slower to ensure he’s right next to her.

Hujin pretends to trip out of spite, before immediately straightening herself afterward. “I’d never fall…unless it’s head over heels.”

“At this point, you’re falling head over heels literally.” Haoyu sighs, “I’ll let you have my bed tonight, I don’t want you alone right now.”

Hujin frowned. “Ah, right. That makes sense.” Her face and tone were grim, and it made me feel grim for some reason. I wanted to do something, anything to make her smile again.

“So um…penguins?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood. “Opinions?”

“They’re cute,” Haoyu says, getting into the limo.

Hujin perked up immediately and started rambling about penguins, from their scientific name all the way to their mating seasons and their dietary habits. By the time the limo was on its way back to the company building, Hujin was now rambling about…Madagascar and how accurate the penguins representation was.

“Chiu, you’re dismissed, feel free to head home once you get to the office,” Haoyu says authoritatively. 

I smile warmly at Haoyu. “Thank you, for…well, everything.” My stomach churned with unease and I fought off the butterflies in my stomach with a pained grimace. “Sorry, I don’t really feel well right now…still getting used to uh…life in the big city.”

Haoyu nods “Do you want me to walk you to your car?” He offers.

I glance at Hujin and Huifen, who nod and give a thumbs-up in a strangely devious manner. “Um, okay, that would be nice. 

The four of us walked to the parking lot in comfortable silence, although I couldn’t help but notice Hujin whispering to her brothers in a drunk way and then started bursting into fits of laughter. Just what was that manic pixie nightmare girl yapping about now?

“Are you sure you don’t mind me teasing your new assistant girl?” Hujin says in a sing-song voice to Haoyu. Huifen gives Hujin a deadpan stare and a grunt before plugging in his earbuds, his social battery worn out 

“Shut it.” Haoyu stops to boop his sister’s nose. Hujin wrinkled her nose, an angry pout on her face.

“Uh-uh, I’m stealing her from you,”

“Stealing who?” I butted in, wanting to be included in the conversation. Back at home, I was often given weird looks by others for not minding my own business. However, the siblings didn’t seem like the judgmental type, so I didn’t really bother asking. 

“I honestly have no idea,” Haoyu replied. “Uh is that your car?” 

I nod. “Yeah. Uh, see you tomorrow I guess?” I look at Hujin, who was basically using Haoyu as a human teddy bear. She was snoring loudly on his shoulder and startled awake when I nudged her awake

“By the way,” I said smugly. “You’re going to have a killer headache tomorrow.”

“Noooooo…” she whined, burying her face even more into Haoyu’s shoulder.

“I think I have stuff to treat it at home, you’ll be fine.” 

“My head feels like it’s been hit on a rock…” Hujin complained.

I sigh, both exasperated and fond. “Maybe if you didn’t chug five glasses of vodka in one go?”

Haoyu shook his head, “Mother and Father would have killed me for even letting you drink, period.”

Hujin grumbled. “If only they ever treated me like an adult, not a fragile glass doll. Rargh!” She gripped at her hair.

“They’re dead,” Haoyu says bluntly. Crossing his arms with a stonefaced expression, returning to his soulless facade. “We can’t wish for anything from them anymore.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” I say apologetically. Though sympathy was probably the last thing either of them wanted, it was the only thing that I could think of

Hujin waved off my concerns. “It’s fine, it’s not like it hurts…that much.” She cradled herself, looking a bit shameful. “Um…I mean, they’re our parents, so I should feel sad, but…” She shoots a pleading glance at me

“Don’t feel bad, I’m kinda glad they’re gone.” Haoyu blurts out. Then he grumbles  “I couldn't even force myself to cry at their funeral.”

I look at him, mostly a bit confused, before coming to an understanding. “So, I’m going to assume they weren’t the best of parents?”

“Far from it,” Huifen chimed in, sounding almost nonchalant…or detached?

Haoyu remained silent from here, his face suddenly becoming pale as if he said something he shouldn’t have, he’d occasionally glance at his twin but other than that he was frozen.

The air was getting more suffocating by the second. I opened my car door and slid in. “Um…thanks for accompanying me. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I lock the car door and drive back home.

chapter 2 release tbd

[michaelmilligan]

Midam week day seven: YES

“I do,” Adam said softly, watching with a soaring heart as Michael's smile got impossibly bigger.

“Then I hereby pronounce you spouses in the eyes of Heaven – and also the state of Alabama, which lets me officiate weddings with only the online application and no registration with a government office,” Gabriel declared, shutting the book in his hands.

Adam knew that it wasn't the bible or any official paperwork. Actually, he was pretty sure that it was The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, which Gabriel was apparently re-reading after getting nostalgic about J.R.R. Tolkien.

Not that it mattered. Even if Gabriel only took this half serious, and even if Raphael had stressed about the decorations the last few hours before the wedding, and even if Adam's mom was still not so sure about him marrying an archangel... This was still one of the happiest days of Adam's life.

“You can snog now or whatever,” Gabriel said, gesturing between them, and Michael stepped closer to kiss him.

They took their time. It was their first kiss as a married couple, so they were going to make it count.

Besides, it wasn't like either of them needed to breathe. Not up here in Heaven. And probably not down on Earth, either, as long as Michael was still possessing him.

At some point, though, they heard whistling – Gabriel was apparently over the whole 'gagging when they kissed' thing and was now firmly in wolf-whistling territory.

Well. It was a step forward, Adam supposed.

The far weirder thing was that Adam's mom was giggling and whispering with Gabriel. For some reason, while she was still a bit wary about Michael, she and Gabriel had hit it off really well.

In a friendly sort of way. Not in a weird way. Kate was now Michael's mother-in-law, and she would not simultaneously become his sister-in-law.

Which would then also make her Adam's sister-in-law...

Time to stop thinking.

“We should move on to refreshments,” Raphael said, still looking regal in the suit they were wearing on their vessel, but with a slight twitch to their wings.

It happened when they were stressed, Michael had told Adam quite some time ago. So while they seemed calm and collected, they were probably mentally doing the equivalent of pulling out a comically large pocket watch and lamenting that no one kept to the schedule.

“We should,” Adam agreed, which prompted Gabriel to conjure up said refreshments – champagne and an assortment of other alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages.

There wasn't really a way to get drunk in Heaven, not that archangels would even feel the effect of a few glasses, but it was nice that they still adhered to tradition.

“To the grooms,” Kate said once all their glasses were filled, and her smile was only a little crooked.

Despite her reservations, she knew that this marriage made Adam very happy, as purely symbolic as it was. So she played along, always eager to make up for lost time. (Lost in the cage, lost with both of their deaths, lost even in his childhood, when she'd barely been home. Adam had never begrudged her for working the graveyard shift, and she wasn't at fault for any of the other points, but it was nice that she now had time whenever he wanted to see her. As morbid as that was.)

Chasing all other thoughts away, Adam looked and Michael and toasted his glass at him. “To us.”

“To us,” Michael echoed softly, toasting back.

His expression was so fond, his eyes so soft, that of course Adam had to make a joke: “Guess we're a match made in Heaven now.”

Michael raised an eyebrow at him. “Technically a match made in Hell.” He hummed. “Though I guess Heaven does sound better.”

“Well, you're certainly a match,” Gabriel commented. “Right down to the identical faces!”

Kate's smile wavered a little, while Raphael sighed. It was a silly joke – Michael didn't look anything like Adam, really. Sure, his projection looked the same as him, but not his true form.

Michael just shook his head at Gabriel. “Well, why wouldn't I use my favourite face in the world?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes dramatically and mimed hanging himself, while Kate looked torn between being touched and doing the same.

“How about we cut the cake?” Raphael asked, probably thinking about the timetable again.

Adam just smiled and let them and Gabriel fuss over the cake. He would cut it together with Michael once they were done, but everything being perfect or traditional to a t was far less important to him than just being here with the ones he loved.

That alone already made this day perfect.

[hillbillyhippiemusicreview]

TAYLOR HUNNICUTT MAY BE ALL OR NOTHIN’ BUT LET ME TELL Y’ALL, SHE SURE IS SOMETHIN’

Reviewed by: Lyssa Culbertson

Taylor Hunnicutt Band at the Fennec in Birmingham, AL, Sept. 2022; photo by HHMR

The infallible southern wordsmith Brent Cobb once wrote a song he called “King of Alabama,” rightfully titled about the late, great Wayne Mills. Mills was undeniably the King of Honky Tonk, songwriting, and so much more in the Heart of Dixie in his heyday of playing his brand of country music, and his legacy lingers on still to this day. But if there is a king, there must be a queen, right?! Well, I would bet my bottom dollar that his protégé Taylor Hunnicutt will forever reign as the queen of Alabama, especially when it comes to honky tonkin’ and musically kickin’ a-double-s. She honed her talent on stages across the Southeast with the likes of Mills and other notable artists and in recent years has begun to break out into other markets where they just can’t get enough. Appalachia, Texas, and beyond—they’re all digging her vibe, and for good reason! I mean, how could they not with explosive vocals and a commanding stage presence like that?! I’ve often referred to her when trying to capture her essence in a few words to those unfamiliar as the musical spawn of Bonnie Raitt, Stevie Nicks, Janis Joplin, Alannah Myles, and Ronnie Van Zant but the honest to God truth is Taylor Hunnicutt is something magical all her own. A force to be reckoned with, no doubt. She can cook you up an exquisite Sunday dinner and fanagle home design better than Better Homes & Gardens, but she can also kick your tail and drink you under the table while crankin’ out a well-written song to boot as she brings a packed house down. With a smoky yet angelic vocal possessing a power summoned from the great beyond, she’s a multifaceted woman and artist who is everything you thought you’d get but nothing like you’d ever expect. Sweet like honey and full of grace with a healthy dose of sass, she is simply Taylor, a rare wildflower of a talent in a filed full of musical roses—and she and her band are about to take off like a bottle rocket that’s out of control…heck, they already are! Mark my words and either hop on and hold on for dear life or get out of the way, there’s no stopping the Taylor Train! Bottoms up!

Several years ago, Taylor released her debut EP, Flower in a Drought, and it was a solid peace of work that showed off her penchant for coy, tongue-in-cheek, yet deeply heartfelt songwriting alongside her impressive vocal range. It was a stellar introduction to the wholesome artist and musician she is, and undoubtedly one of our favorite pieces of work we’ve ever heard. Fast forward to present day, though, and it’s apparent over the past few years as they’ve traveled around, show after show, mile upon mile, that Taylor Hunnicutt and her band members (husband Josh McKenzie on lead guitar, Andrew Mohney on drums, Tyler Treadwell on rhythm guitar, and Young Ethan Perkins holding it down on bass) have undergone a musical renaissance of sorts—the music they’re putting out these days feels like, at least to the devoted listener (aka me), HOME. A Taylor Hunnicutt Band nirvana, so to speak. Purebred, authentic, genre-bending tunes that truly display who they are and where they’ve come from are what they’re all about! Two such offerings as of late are “All Or Nothin’” and “Trail of a Broken Heart,” which were released in August 2022 and March 2023, respectively. “All Or Nothin’” is a swampy, twangy, honky-tonkin’, rockin’ boot stompin’ barn burner that will be a permanent earworm inside your ear holes once you listen to it. “Trail of a Broken Heart” displays a bit of Taylor’s softer side well, as it bridges the gap between barroom ballad and a honky-tonk fueled soulful rocker quite well. Featuring her signature growl and impressive guitar riffs, it’s definitely one that will grip your heart and soul. Typically, I would go into more detail with vivid descriptions of the lyrical content of these songs; however, I believe their musicality and lyrical goodness are something you’ve just got to experience and feel for yourself. One listen and you’re hooked—proceed with caution, I tell ya! Not to mention, live shows are positively electric: Taylor uses her rowdy stage presence and undeniably emotive songs backed by the punches of her impressive vocal range and the sizzling talent of her backing band to get the crowd boot scooting till they’ve forgotten what ails ‘em. She’ll eat ya alive! Just joshin’ my friends—but seriously, run, don’t walk, to the nearest Taylor Hunnicutt show you can find because she won’t be mainly playing small, intimate stages for much longer. Case in point: she and the band are fixin’ to take the West Coast like a crimson tidal wave on their first major tour supporting Mike and the Moonpies this fall and Hillbilly Hippie Music Review is plum stoked for them—it couldn’t happen to a more deserving group of folks. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya….get out there and fall in love with their quirky personalities and eclectic sound like the rest of the country is more and more by the minute. I’m telling y’all—you won’t have a chance to get up close and personal and share a shot or ten and swap stories with her before too long! It’s well worth the experience from beginning to end, Hippie’s Honor ✌🏻😎🤞🏻.

(Tour poster from Taylor Hunnicutt Facebook)

Watch the music video for “All or Nothin’” below:

Here’s an acoustic take of “Trail of a Broken Heart”

[rollimet]

Gawker jeremy strong

Gawker jeremy strong full#

Gawker jeremy strong professional#

The classism of this attitude isn’t always apparent because there’s plenty to legitimately criticize about America’s hustle culture, in which overwork is valorized and we’re all expected to rise and grind. My colleague’s implication that I must have cheated my way in somehow, showed me quite clearly how elites often view people who they see as interlopers in their rarefied spaces. Besides, starting a media company from scratch - launching it, writing it, hiring other people, building an audience - might be more difficult than doing an internship! It was certainly not the easy way in. I had no connections and no money at the beginning of my media career. Internships in media were mostly unpaid, and often won via connections or nepotism. I hadn’t even done an internship, he pointed out.Īnd I hadn’t. A colleague wanted to know how I got the gig. I was young, a woman and my background wasn’t typical for a finance columnist. After I discovered that no one in media wanted to assign me stories about business and finance, despite my having worked as an equity analyst, I started a Wall Street blog called Dealbreaker that was read by a lot of young finance professionals, and ultimately, the guy who hired me at Fortune. I had perhaps done some Jeremy Strong-level striving to get the contract, though. In fact, I had simply been offered the assignment as part of a contract I had at the time as a columnist at Fortune magazine.

Gawker jeremy strong professional#

Given his sneering reaction, you would think I had murdered all of my professional peers and scaled a pile of their dead bodies in order to get the work. He saw my focus on my journalism career as a gaudy Americanism that carried the stench of effort. He was European and had gone to expensive prestigious schools, paid for by his parents. An ex-boyfriend who was also a writer was piqued that I got a nice magazine assignment and that I had the gall to be enthusiastic about it. Only one person has ever called me a careerist to my face, and it was over a decade ago. Strong once drove to Canada as Daniel Day-Lewis’s assistant on a film shoot, the great actor’s prop mandolin strapped into the passenger seat like he was “guarding a relic.”) (As recounted in the New Yorkerprofile, Mr. Strong, whose path to success was long and difficult, and sometimes involved extreme displays of devotion to his craft. Every time I’ve heard it used, it has been by someone who has enough privilege that needing to work and worrying about advancement are alien experiences. There’s an unmistakably negative connotation to the word “careerist.” It is a dismissive insult often deployed against people who have the temerity to transcend their economic class. My freshman year at Duke University, a lacrosse player coming from a prestigious boarding school overheard me talking and asked, “Where the are you from?” It was clear that he wasn’t just asking for a geographic location.

Gawker jeremy strong full#

I have felt dismissed at times as an ambitious striver, or because I wasn’t an obvious fit in a room full of wealthy, overeducated people, with my rednecky accent and teeth unmolested by modern orthodontics. I also went to a fancy college on enough financial aid to rival the G.D.P. My dad was a local lineman for a utilities company in Alabama, and my mom worked at my school, first as a janitor, then later as a lunch lady in the cafeteria. Like me, he grew up working class: He was the son of a juvenile jail employee and a hospice nurse in Massachusetts. Strong in the profile felt very relatable. Strong’s at Yale, where he studied with financial aid, said, “I’d never met anyone else at Yale with that careerist drive.” One critique particularly stood out to me when I read it. In a December New Yorker profile of the actor Jeremy Strong, who plays Kendall Roy on the HBO show “Succession,” colleagues, friends and classmates painted him as a person who, in internet-speak, “has no chill.” His intense and sometimes extreme devotion to his craft was extensively documented and skewered.

[snake-rot]

(EXCLAIMING)

(ORCHESTRA MUSIC BLARING)

(GROANS)

(WHIMPERS)

(GRUNTING)

(MYSTICAL INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC PLAYING)

(GROANS)

(COUNTRY ROCK MUSIC PLAYING)

(COUGHS)

Sweet home Alabama

Where the skies are so blue

WOMAN: Excuse me, sir, is there a commode?

Sweet home Alabama

(GRUNTING)

Lord, I'm coming home to you

(GRUNTS) Justin!

Quick, honey, take my picture. I got the pyramid in my hand.

(CAMERA CLICKING)

Yeah

Justin, you get back here right now!

No, stop!

GUARD 1: No, no, no! Stop him! GUARD 2: Go back! Don't climb!

(JUSTIN IMITATING AIRPLANE WHOOSHING)

Wait, wait.

Hold on. Easy, little boy.

Okay, stop, child! Stop right there. No!

(GASPS)

No, no, no, no, no! Oh! There he goes.

(GASPS)

Justin!

I've got him! I've got him!

(JUSTIN GRUNTS)

(AIR ESCAPING)

Outrage in Egypt tonight as it was discovered

that the Great Pyramid of Giza had been stolen

and replaced by a giant inflatable replica.

There is panic throughout the globe as countries and citizens

try to protect their beloved landmarks.

Law enforcement still has no leads,

leaving everyone to wonder, which of the world's villains

is responsible for this heinous crime?

And where will he strike next?

Gru: Freeze ray! Freeze ray! Freeze ray! [laughs evilly] Fred: Morning, Gru! How you doing? Gru: Hello, Fred. FYI, your dog has been leaving little bombs all over my yard, and I don't appreciate it. Fred: Sorry. You know dogs. They go wherever they wanna go. Gru: Unless they're dead. [laughs] I'm joking! Although, it is true. Anyway, have a good one. Fred: Okay. Yeah. Steamrolling whatever Gru: [groans] You've got to be pulling on my leg! Margo: Hello! Cookies for sale. Gru: Go away. I'm not home. Margo: Uh, yes, you are. I heard you. Gru: [gasps] No, you didn't. This... [monotone] is a recording. Margo: [scoffs] No, it isn't. Gru: Yes, it is. [o.s.] Watch this. Leave a message, beep. [Edith kicks the door] Gru: Ow! Agnes: Goodbye, recorded message. Margo: [o.s.] Agnes, come on. Gru: Huh? [screams] Kyle! Bad dog! No! No, no. Sit. My muffin. Dr. Nefario: Gru! Gru: Ah, Dr. Nefario. Dr. Nefario: I know how you must be feeling. I, too, have encountered great disappointment, but, in my eyes, you will always be one of the greats. Gru: What? What happened? Dr. Nefario: It's all over the news! Some fella just stole a pyramid. They're saying he makes all other villains look... lame. pause Gru: Assemble the minions! [throws Kyle off of his arm] Minions, assemble! Minion: Okay. Okay. Hey! Gru: Looking good, Kevin! How is the family? Good? All right. That's my Billy boy! What up, Larry? Hello, everybody! Yeah, all right! Simmer down. Simmer down! Thank you, okay. Now, I realize that you guys probably heard about this other villain who stole the pyramids. Apparently, it's a big deal. People are calling it the crime of the century and stuff like that. But am I upset? No, I am not! A little, but we have had a pretty good year ourselves, and you guys are all right in my book. Minion: Ooh! Ooh! Ooh! Gru: No, no raises! You're not going to get any raises. What did we do? Well, we stole the Times Square JumboTron! Nice! That's how I roll. Yeah, you all like watching football on that, huh? But that's not all. We stole the Statue of Liberty, the small one from Las Vegas. And I won't even mention the Eiffel Tower! Also Vegas. Okay, I wasn't going to tell you about this yet, but I have been working on something very big! Something that will blow this pyramid thing out of the water! And thanks to the efforts of my good friend Dr. Nefario... Dr. Nefario: Thank you! Gru: There he is. He's stylin'. Now, we have located a shrink ray in a secret lab, and once we take this shrink ray, we will have the capability to pull off the 'true crime of the century. We are going to steal... The Minions all pull out their weapons in response. Gru: Wait, wait! I haven't told you what it is yet. One of the Minions, Dave, shoots his rocket launcher at a crowd of Minions. Gru: Hey. Dave, listen up, please! Dave: Ditto. One of the Minions Dave shot walks over to him and punches him on the shoulder. Gru: Next, we are going to steal, pause for effect, the moon! The Minions cheer in response. Gru: And once the moon is mine, the world will give me whatever I want to get it back! And I will be the greatest villain of all time! That's what I'm talkin' 'bout. [picks up his phone] Yes? Dr. Nefario: Hello, Gru? I've been crunching some numbers, and I really don't see how we can afford this. It can't be done. I'm not a miracle worker. Gru:Hey, chillax. I'll just get another loan from the bank. They love me! Margo: Edith, stop it! Edith: What? I'm just walking. Girls: Hi, Miss Hattie. We're back. Miss Hattie: Hello, girls! Agnes: Anybody come to adopt us while we were out? Miss Hattie: Hmm... Let me think. No! Edith immediately puts a mud pie on Miss Hattie's desk, much to her displeasure. Miss Hattie: Edith! What did you put on my desk? Edith: A mud pie. Miss Hattie: [sighs] You're never gonna get adopted, Edith. You know that, don't you? Edith: Yeah, I know. Miss Hattie: Good. So, how did it go, girls? Did we meet our quotas? Margo: Hmm... Sorta. We sold 43 mini-mints, 30 choco-swirlies and 18 coco-nutties. Miss Hattie: [gets up] Okay.

Well, you say that like it's a great sale day. [furious] Look at my face! Do you still think it's a great sale day? Edith rolls her eyes in response. Miss Hattie: [hangs up a portrait] Eighteen coco-nutties. I think we can do a little better than that, don't you? Yeah. We wouldn't want to spend the weekend in the Box of Shame, would we? No. Girls: No, Miss Hattie. Miss Hattie: Okay, good. Off you go. Go clean something of mine. Girls: Hi, Penny. Penny: Hi, guys. Gru: Hello, Mom. Sorry, I meant to call, but... Gru's Mom: I just wanted to congratulate you on stealing the pyramid. [Gru sighs in disgust] That was you, wasn't it? Or was it a villain who's actually successful? [laughs] Gru: Just so you know, Mom, I am about to do something that's very, very big, very important. When you hear about it, you're going to be very proud. Gru's Mom: Ha! [sarcastically] Good luck with that. Okay, I'm outta here. [hangs up the phone before sending her karate instructor flying] Gru: Gru to see Mr Perkins Receptionist: Yes, please have a seat. Neil Armstrong: That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind. Young Gru: Ma, someday I'm going to go to the moon. Gru's Mom: I'm afraid you're too late, Son. NASA isn't sending the monkeys any more. Vector: Hey. I'm applying for a new villain loan. Go by the name of Vector. It's a mathematical term, a quantity represented by an arrow, with both direction and magnitude. Vector! That's me, 'cause I'm committing crimes with both direction and magnitude. Oh, yeah! Check out my new weapon. Piranha gun! Oh, yes! Fires live piranhas. Ever seen one before? No, you haven't. I invented it. Do you want a demonstration? Shoot! So difficult, sometimes, to get the piranha back inside of my... Receptionist: Mr Gru, Mr Perkins will see you now. Gru: So, all I need is money from the bank to build a rocket. And then, the moon is ours. Perkins: Wow! Well, very nice presentation. I'd like to see this shrink ray. Gru: Absolutely! Will do. Soon as I have it. Perkins: You don't have it? And yet you have the audacity to ask the bank for money? Gru: Apparently. Perkins: Do you have any idea of the capital that this bank has invested in you, Gru? With far too few of your sinister plots actually turning a profit. How can I put it? Let's say this apple is you. If we don't start getting our money back... Get the picture? Look, Gru, the point is, there are a lot of new villains out there, younger than you, hungrier than you, younger than you. Like that young fellow out there named Vector. He just stole a pyramid! Gru: I've got it. I've got it. So, as far as getting money for the rocket... Perkins: Get the shrink ray, then we'll talk. Minion: Suckers! Suckers! Gru: We got it! What? Hey! Hey! What! Hey! No, no, no! You! Vectors: Now, maybe you'll think twice before you freeze someone's head! So long, Gru! Gru: Quick! We can't let him get away! Up ahead! Up ahead! Fire! Fire, now! Vector: You missed me! Gru: Come to papa! Take that. Vector: How adorable. Gru: Got you in our sights! Like taking candy from a... What? Vector: Hey, Gru! Try this on for size! Gru: That's weird. What is going... This is claustrophobic! No, no, no! Too small! This is too small for me! [groans] I hate that guy. Margo: ...and please watch over us, and bless that we'll have a good night's sleep. Edith: And bless that while we're sleeping, no bugs will crawl into our ears and lay eggs in our brains. Margo: Great. Thanks for that image, Edith. Agnes: And please bless that someone will adopt us soon, and that the mommy and daddy will be nice and have a pet unicorn. Amen. Margo/Edith: Amen. Agnes: Unicorns, I love them Unicorns, I love them Uni, uni, unicorns I love them Uni, unicorns, I could pet one If they were really real And they are So, I bought one so I could pet it Now it loves me Now I love it Gru: Don't you... What the... Good luck, little girls! Edith: Whoa! Cool. Margo: Hi! We're orphans from Miss Hattie's Home for Girls. Vector: I don't care. Beat it! Margo: Come on! We're selling

cookies so, you know, we can have a better future. Vector: Wait, wait! Do you have coco-nutties? Margo: Yeah. Gru: Light bulb. Dr Nefario! I'm going to need a dozen tiny robots disguised as cookies! Dr. Nefario: What? Gru: Cookie robots! Dr. Nefario: Who is this? - Gru: Oh, forget it. Mrs. Hattie: Well, it appears you have cleared our background check, Dr Gru. And I see you have made a list of some of your personal achievements. Thank you for that. I love reading. And I see you have been given the Medal of Honor and a knighthood. - Minions: Me, me, me. Me, me, me. Minion: Kevin? Mrs. Hattie: You had your own cooking show and you can hold your breath for 30 seconds? It's not that impressive. Minion: Idiot! - Minions: Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Mrs Hattie: What in the name of... What? Gru: Well, here's the dealio. Things have been so lonely since my wife, Debbie, passed on. It's like my heart is a tooth, and it's got a cavity that can only be filled with children. I'm sorry. You are a beautiful woman. Do you speak Spanish? Mrs. Hattie: Do I look like I speak Spanish? Gru: You have a face como un burro. Mrs. Hattie: Well, thank you! Gru: Anyway, can we proceed with this adoption? So, so excited! Mrs. Hattie: Please tell Margo, Edith and Agnes to come to the lobby. Margo: I bet the mom is beautiful! Edith: I bet the daddy's eyes sparkle. Agnes: I bet their house is made of Gummi Bears. [Edith and Margo look at her curiously] I'm just saying it'd be nice. [picks up a Cheeto] Aww. My caterpillar never turned into a butterfly. Edith: That's a Cheeto. Agnes: Oh... [eats said Cheeto, making Edith and Margo recoil in disgust] Miss Hattie: Well, Debbie was a very lucky woman. [pause] Gru: Who's Debbie? Mrs Hattie: Your wife. Hi, girls! Girls, I want you to meet Mr Gru. He's going to adopt you. And he's a dentist! Agnes: Yeah! Margo: Hi. I'm Margo. This is Edith. And that's Agnes. Agnes: [sing-song] I got your leg, I got your leg! Gru: Okay, that is enough, little girl. Let go of my leg. Come on. You can do it. Agnes: Higher! Higher! Gru: Just release your grip. Wow! How do you remove them? Is there a command? Some nonstick spray? Crowbar? [sighs] Okay, girls, let's go. [They drove off in the distance.]Vector: Uh-huh! Oh, yeah! Pretty impressive! What are you looking at? Boo-ya! You got shrunk, tiny mouthwash! Take that! You done been shrunk! (His phone rings) Yello? I got the shrink ray, all right. No, I'm not playing with it. Gru? Don't make me laugh! No. P.S., he is not getting the moon, and P.P.S., by the time I'm done with him, he's gonna be begging for mercy. (Shrinks a toilet) Okay, bye. (Hangs up) Look at you, a little tiny toilet for a little tiny baby to... [The toilet pops out and water sprays him.]Vector: Curse you, tiny toilet! [Gru and the Girls arrive at Gru's Home.] Gru: "Okay, here we are. Home sweet home. Margo: So... This is, like, your house? [realizing] Wait a sec... You're the guy who pretended he was a recorded message! Gru: No, that was someone else. [Margo gives a skeptical look before she, Edith and Agnes enter Gru's house, with Gru following suite.] Agnes: [scared] Can I hold your hand? Gru: Uh... No. Edith: [looks around] When we got adopted by a bald guy, I thought this'd be more like "Annie". Gru: No, hey! [screams] Kyle, these are not treats. These are guests. Girls, this is Kyle, my... Dog. Kyle snarls in anger. Agnes: Ooh! Fluffy doggy! [approaches Kyle before he runs away, much to her disappointment] Margo: What kind of dog is that? Gru: He is a... I don't know. Margo: Do you really think that this is an appropriate place for little kids? 'Cause, uh... It's not. [Edith sees a closet that is sharp and goes in it.] Gru: No! No! Stay away from there! It's frag... [He sees juice spilling on the floor.]Both: (Gasps) Gru: Well, I suppose the plan will work with two. Edith: [muffled] Hey! It's dark in here. [Gru opens the iron maiden, revealing Edith, who spits out a straw]Edith: It poked a hole in my juice box. [They went to the

kitchen.] Gru: As you can see, I have provided everything a child might need. All right. Okay. As I was saying... (Edith knocked a bottle down) Gru: (Cont'd) Hey! Oh. Edith: Somebody broke that. Gru: "Okay, okay. Clearly, we need to set some rules. Rule number one. You will not touch anything. Margo: Uh-huh. What about the floor? Gru: Yes, you may touch the floor. Margo: What about the air? Gru: Yes, you may touch the air! Edith: (Gets out a laser gun) What about this? Gru: (Screams) Where did you get that? Edith: [shrugs] Found it. Gru: Okay. Rule number two. You will not bother me while I'm working. Rule number three. You will not cry or whine or laugh or giggle or sneeze or burp or fart! So, no, no, no annoying sounds. All right? Agnes: Does this count as annoying? [popping] Gru: Very! [sighs] I will see you in six hours. Margo: Okay, don't worry. Everything's going to be fine. We're gonna be really happy here. Right? Agnes? Gru: Question. What are these? Dr. Nefario: A dozen boogie robots! Boogie! Look at this. Watch me! Gru: Cookie robots. I said cookie robots. Why are you so old? Dr. Nefario: Okay. I'm on it. Margo: Hello? Agnes: TV! Margo: What is that? Edith: Whoa! That is cool! Come on! Agnes: I don't think he's a dentist.Dr. Nefario: We've been working on this for a while. It's a anti-gravity serum. I meant to close that. He'll be all right, I'm sure. Gru: Do the effects wear off? Dr. Nefario: So far, no. No, they don't. And here, of course, is the new weapon you ordered. Gru: No, no. I said "dart gun," not... Okay. Dr. Nefario: Oh, yes. 'Cause I was wondering under what circumstances would we use this? But, anyway. What I really wanted to show you was this. Gru: Now those are cookie robots! Agnes: La, la, la, la I love unicorns Gru: What are you doing here? I told you to stay in the kitchen! Margo: We got bored. What is this place? Edith: Can I drink this? Dr. Nefario: Do you want to explode? [Edith kicks him in the shin] Dr. Nefario: Gru! Gru: Get back in the kitchen! Agnes: Will you play with us? Gru: No. Agnes: Why? Gru: Because I'm busy. Margo: [scoffs] Doing what? Gru: Umm... Okay, okay, you got me. The dentist thing is more of a hobby. In real life, I am a spy. And it is top secret, and you may not tell anybody, because if you do... Edith: What does this do? [She fires a laser and it hits Agnes's unicorn and it burns to ashes]Gru: Hey! Edith: Whoops. Agnes: My unicorn! You have to fix it. Gru: Fix it? Look, it has been disintegrated. By definition, it cannot be fixed. [Agnes gasps in shock, then starts holding her breath] Gru: That's freaking me out. What is she doing? Margo: She's gonna hold her breath until she gets a new one. Gru: [sighs] It is just a toy. Now stop it! (Agnes faints) Gru: Okay, okay! I'll fix it! Tim! Mark! Phil! This is very important. You have to get the little girl a new unicorn toy. Gru: Hey, hey, hey! A toy! Go, and hurry! What are those? Gru: They are my... Cousins. Jerry! Stuart! Watch them and keep them away from me please. [The three minions put on a disguise and head to the store.]Minions: Wow!- Wow! [Meanwhile the two minions and the girls are tossing toilet paper at each other. Gru comes up and he sees the Girls and the two minions having fun.]Edith: It was your cousin's idea. Jerry: What? Gru: Okay, bedtime. Girls: Aww... Minions: Aww... Gru: Not you two! Minions: Yay. Gru: Okey-dokey. Beddie-bye. All tucked in. Sweet dreams. Margo: Just so you know, you're never gonna be my dad. Gru: I think I can live with that. Edith: Are these beds made out of bombs? Gru: Yes, but they are very old and highly unlikely to blow up. But try not to toss and turn. Edith: "Cool." Agnes: Will you read us a bedtime story?" Gru: No. Agnes: But we can't go to sleep without a bedtime story. Gru: Well, then it's going to be a long night for you, isn't it? So, good night, sleep tight, and don't let the bed bugs bite. Because there are literally thousands of them. And there's probably something in your closet. Margo: He's just kidding, Agnes. Agnes: It's beautiful. Gru: Girls, let's go.

Time to deliver the cookies! Margo: Okay. But first, we're going to dance class. Gru: Actually, we're going to have to skip the dance class today. Margo: Actually, we can't skip the dance class today. We have a big recital coming up. We're doing an excerpt from Swan Lake. Agnes: Yeah, Swan Lake! Gru: That's fantastic. Wonderful. But we're going to deliver cookies! Come on! Margo: No. Gru: No? Margo: We're not going to deliver cookies until we do dance class. Really? Gru: Well, I am not driving you to dance class. So if you want to go, you are going to have to walk yourselves. What are you doing? Margo: Walking to dance class. Gru: Ya? Okay, fine. You just keep walking, because I'm really not driving you! Margo: Okay. Gru: You're going to suffer the wrath of Gru! Seriously, I'm going to count to three! And you had better be in this car! Here we go! One! Two! Teacher: ...three, four and five. And lift, and stretch. And one, and two... Agnes: Here you go. Gru: What is it? Agnes: Your ticket to the dance recital. You are coming, right? Gru: Of course, of course. I have pins and needles that I'm sitting on. Agnes: Pinkie promise? Gru: Oh, yes. My pinkie promises. All right. Our first customer is a man named Vector. Margo: But he's a V. You know, we're supposed to start with the A's. Then we go to the B's. Then we... Gru: Yes, yes! I went to kindergarten. I know how the alphabet works! I was just thinking that it might be nice to deliver Mr Vector's first. That is all. Almost over. It's almost over. Vector: Girls, welcome back to the fortress of Vector-tude! Do you have my cookies for me? Margo: Four boxes of mini-mints, two toffee totes, two caramel clumpies and fifteen boxes of coco-nutties. Vector: Exactly. I'd like to see somebody else order that many cookies. Not likely. Name one person who ordered more cookies than me. Margo: That'll be $52. Vector: Right. Seven, eight, nine... Tic Tacs! Where was I? Seven, eight, nine... Agnes: Why are you wearing pyjamas? Vector: These aren't pyjamas! This is a warm-up suit. Edith: What are you warming up for? Vector: Stuff. Agnes: What sort of stuff? Vector: Super-cool stuff you wouldn't understand. Agnes: Like sleeping? Vector: They are not pyjamas! Here you go, 52 big ones. Bye! Gru: Come on! Vector: What the...? Quiet down, fish. Down, boy!Gru: [laughs] We did it! Come on, girls, let's go! Margo: But what about the other people who ordered cookies? Gru: Life is full of disappointments... For some people. [chuckles ominously] Agnes: (Screams) Gru: Don't do that! Agnes: Super Silly Fun Land! Can we go? Please? Gru: No. Edith: But we've never been. And it's the funnest place on earth! Gru: "Don't care." Girls: Please? Please? We'll never ask for anything else, ever again! Pretty please? Please? Come on! Come on! Gru: "Light bulb." Edith: Come on! Gru: "Goodbye, have fun. [He began to leave. But a attendant of the roller coaster stopped him.]Carnival Ride Worker: Sorry, dude. They can't ride without an adult. Gru: What? [groans] [Soon Gru gets sick from the roller coaster ride.]Agnes: Oh, my gosh! Look at that fluffy unicorn! He's so fluffy, I'm gonna die! Margo: You've gotta let us play for it! Gru: No, no, no. Agnes: Come on! Gru: How much for the fluffy unicorn?Carnival Barker: Well, it is not for sale. But all you gotta do to win it is knock down that little spaceship there. It's easy! Agnes: Yay! Again! Margo: Wait! Edith: Come on. One more time! Agnes: Just one more. I accidentally closed my eyes. I hit it! I hit it! Edith: That was cool. Awww. Gru: Whoa, whoa, whoa. What was that? She hit that. I saw that with my own eyes.Carnival Barker: Hey, buddy, let me explain something to you. You see that little tin spaceship? You see how it's not knocked over? Do you know what that means, professor? It means you don't get the unicorn! Somebody's got a frowny face. Boo! Better luck next time! Gru: Okay, my turn. [Gru uses a fire gun and it blows up the whole booth.]Gru: "Knocked over!" Agnes: It's so fluffy! Yeah! Margo: That was

awesome! Edith: You blew up the whole thing! Agnes: Let's go. Let's try another game!Dr. Nefario: Gru, do you mind if I have a quick word? Gru: Okay, girls, go play. I got the shrink ray! Cotton candy! Dr. Nefario: We have 12 days until the moon is in optimum position. We can't afford any distractions! Gru: Get me Perkins. Sorry to bother you, Mr Perkins, but I figured that you would want to see this! Mr. Perkins: What? Well done, Gru. Rather impressive.Gru: Now, the rest of the plan is simple. I fly to the moon. I shrink the moon. I grab the moon. I sit on the toi-let. What? (girls start laughing) Sorry. Sorry! Could you excuse me for just one second? I told you not to touch my things. I told you, I told you. I've told you a thousand times. Margo: Hey, can we order pizza? Gru: Pizza? You just had lunch. Edith: Not now, for dinner. Gru: Dinner? Just... Fine, fine, fine, whatever. Just get back in there! Margo: Can we get stuffed crust? Agnes and Jerry: Stuffed crust!Gru: I'll stuff you all in the crust! Agnes: [giggles] You're funny! Gru: Just don't come out of that room again! All right. Sorry about that. Where were we? Mr. Perkins: You were sitting on the toilet. Gru: No, no, no! No, I'm sorry. It was a little attempt at humor. I know how much you like to laugh... [Mr. Perkins glares at him] Inside. Eh, now, I was saying... [the door suddenly opens] You don't seem terribly focused, Gru. Believe me, I am completely focused. Right? Edith: Hello! Mr. Perkins: What? Edith: That guy is huge! Agnes: Are we on TV? Mr. Perkins: What are those? Children?Gru: What are you doing? I told you to stay out of here! No, no, no! *Agnes: Freeze ray!Mr. Perkins: Mr Gru? Gru: Okay. As I was saying... Mr. Perkins: No need to continue. I've seen quite enough. Gru: But my plan... Mr. Perkins: Is a great plan. I love everything about your plan, except for one thing. You. Young Gru: Look, Mom, I drew a picture of me landing on the moon! Look, Mom, I made a prototype of the rocket out of macaroni! Look, Mom, I made a real rocket based on the macaroni prototype! Gru: I don't understand. Mr. Perkins: Let's face reality, Gru. You've been at this for far too long with far too little success. We're gonna put our faith, our money, into a... Well, a younger villain. Gru: But I... Mr. Perkins: It's over. Goodbye, Gru. Gru: Now, I know there have been some rumours going around that the bank is no longer funding us. Well, I am here to put those rumours to rest. They are true. In terms of money, we have no money. So how will we get to the moon? The answer is clear. We won't. We are doomed. Now would probably be a good time to look for other employment options. I know. I have fired up my resume as I suggest that all of you do, as well. What is it? Can't you see that I am in the middle of a pep talk? Yes! Yes, we will build our own rocket using this and whatever else we can find! Grab everything! Hit the junkyards! Take apart the cars! Who needs the bank? Let's go. Let's go! Mom! What are you doing here? Gru's Mom: And here he is in the bathtub. Look at his little buns. Gru: Mom. Not cool. Gru's Mom: And here, he's all dressed up in his Sunday best. Margo: He looks like a girl! Gru's Mom: Yes, he does. An ugly girl! Agnes: You're funny! Edith: Yes! Mine's shaped like a dead guy! Receptionist: Mr. Perkins, your son is here. Mr. Perkins: Send him in. Vector: Hey, Dad. You wanted to see me? Mr. Perkins: Yes, I did, Victor. - Vector: I am not Victor anymore. Victor was my nerd name. Now I am Vector! Mr. Perkins: Sit down. Do you know where the shrink ray is? Vector: Duh! Back at my place. Mr. Perkins: Oh, is that right? Back at your place? That's cool. I guess Gru must just have one that looks exactly like it! Vector: What the...?! Those girls sold me cookies! Mr. Perkins: Do you have any idea how lucrative this moon heist could be? I give you the opportunity of a lifetime, and you just blow it! Vector: No, I didn't. Mr. Perkins: Oh, really?Vector: You just wait until Gru sees my latest weapon. Squid-launcher! Oh, yeah! Man:

There's a squid on my face!Vector: Don't worry. The moon is as good as ours. Gru: Come on now, it's bedtime. Did you brush your teeth? Let me smell. Let me smell. You did not! Put on your PGs. Hold still. Okay, seriously! Seriously! This is beddie-bye time, right now. I'm not kidding around. I mean it! Edith: But we're not tired! Gru: Well, I am tired. Agnes: Will you read us a bedtime story? [pause] Gru: No. Agnes: Pretty please? Gru: The physical appearance of the "please" makes no difference. It is still no, so go to sleep. Edith: But we can't. We're all hyper! Margo: And without a bedtime story, we'll just keep getting up and bugging you. All night long. Gru: [sighs] Fine. All right, all right. Sleepy Kittens. Sleepy Kittens? What are these? Agnes: Puppets. You use them when you tell the story. Gru: Okay, let's get this over with. "Three little kittens loved to play, they had fun in the sun all day. "Then their mother came out and said, 'Time for kittens to go to bed."' Wow! This is garbage. You actually like this? Agnes: Keep reading! Edith: Come on! Gru: All right, all right, all right. "Three little kittens started to bawl, "'Mommy, we're not tired at all.' "Their mother smiled and said with a purr, "'Fine, but at least you should brush your fur."' Edith: Now you brush the fur. Gru: This is literature? A 2-year-old could have written this. All right. "Three little kittens with fur all brushed "said, 'We can't sleep, we feel too rushed! ' "Their mother replied, with a voice like silk, "'Fine, but at least you should drink your milk."' Agnes: Now make them drink the milk. Gru: I don't like this book. This is going on forever. "Three little kittens, with milk all gone, rubbed their eyes and started to yawn. "'We can't sleep, we can't even try.' Then their mother sang a lullaby. "'Good night kittens, close your eyes. Sleep in peace until you rise. "'Though while you sleep, we are apart, "'your mommy loves you with all her heart."' The end. Okay, good night. Agnes: Wait! Gru: What? Agnes: What about good night kisses? Gru: No, no. There will be no kissing or hugging or kissing. Margo: He is not gonna kiss us good night, Agnes. Agnes: I like him. He's nice.Edith: [turns off her light] But scary. Like Santa! Dr. Nefario: Only 48 hours till the launch, and all systems are go. Gru: About that, I was thinking that maybe we could move the date of the heist. Dr. Nefario: Please tell me this is not as a result of the girls' dance recital, is it? Gru: No, no, no! The recital? Don't... That's stupid! I just think it's kind of weird to do it on a Saturday. I was thinking, maybe a heist is a Tuesday thing, right? Dr. Nefario: Gru, you and I have been working on this for years. It's everything we've dreamed of. Your chance to make history, become the man who stole the moon! But these girls are becoming a major distraction! They need to go. If you don't do something about it, then I will. Gru: I understand. Dr. Nefario: Good. Minion: Butt. Butt. Butt. Gru: All right. Now, when we put our cups together, we will make the "clink" sound with our mouths. Ready? Edith? Gru: and Edith: Clink. Gru: There we go. And now we drink. And Agnes? Gru and Agnes: Clink. Gru: Very good! Excuse me, girls. Girls: Come on! Gru: Don't worry, I'll be back. Keep clinking. - Clink, clink. - Clink, clink.Gru: Miss Hattie, what are you doing here? Miss Hattie: I'm here for the girls. I received a call that you wanted to return them. [Gru gives her a quizzical look] And also, I did purchase a Spanish dictionary. [swats Gru's head with the dictionary] I didn't like what you said. Gru: But... I will get the girls ready. Agnes: Don't let her take us, Mr. Gru! Tell her you wanna keep us. Mrs. Hattie: All right, girls. Come on, let's go. Margo: Goodbye, Mr. Gru. Thanks for everything. Dr. Nefario: I did it for your own good. Come on, let's go get that moon. Gru: Right. What is this for? The recital? I am the greatest criminal mind of the century. I don't go to little girls' dance recitals! Dr. Nefario: Opening launch bay

doors. Commencing launch sequence. And we are good to go in T minus 10 seconds. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six... Vector: Oh, yeah! Gru: Nice work, Doctor. All systems go. Vector: Boo-ya! My flight suit. Oh, yeah! Once again, the mighty... Gru: I've got it! I've got the moon! I've got the moon. I can make it. Dr. Nefario: Wait a minute! Jerry: Kevin! Gru: Come on! Come on! Agnes: He's still not here. Margo: Why would he come? He gave us up. Agnes: But he pinkie promised! Teacher: Girls, girls, places. Edith: No, we can't start yet! We're still expecting someone. Agnes: Can we just wait a few more minutes? Teacher: All right. But just a few more minutes. Margo: He's not coming, guys. Dr. Nefario: Gru! Gru, can you hear me? Quick, we have to warn him, and fast!Gru: Okay, okay. There's the library. That's Third Street. The dance studio... There! There! There it is! Janitor: Sorry, buddy. Show's over.Gru: Over? Gru: Vector, open up! Vector: First give me the moon. Then we'll talk. Agnes: Mr. Gru! Vector: Zip it, Happy Meal. Gru: Now, the girls. Vector: Actually, I think I'll hold on to them a little while longer. Gru: No! Vector: Oh, yeah! Unpredictable! Gru: Listen close, you little punk. When I get in there, you are in for a world of pain! Vector: [laughs sarcastically] I'm really scared. Agnes: He is gonna kick your butt. Vector: What? He punched my shark! Dr. Nefario: There he is! Hang on, Gru. Oh, no! Gru: Vector has the girls. Go! Dr. Nefario: What happened to the ship? It's big again! Not as big as the moon is going to be! Gru: What? Dr. Nefario: The larger the mass of an object, the quicker the effects of the shrink ray wear off! I call it the Nefario Principle. I just came up with it now, actually. Gru: Oh, no! Margo: Did you see that? Girls: Vector! Help! Vector! Over here! Vector: Hey! What are you girls doing back there? Girls: The moon! Watch out! Vector: Ouch! Gru: Get as close in as you can. You got it. Margo: Mr Gru, up here! Agnes and Edith: Mr Gru! Gru: Okay, girls! Girls! You're going to have to jump. Edith: Jump? Are you insane? Gru: Don't worry, I will catch you. Margo: You gave us back! Gru: I know, I know. And it is the worst mistake I ever made. But you have to jump now. Margo: It'll be okay. Gru: Okay, girls. Margo: Jump now! Gru: Margo, I will catch you. And I will never let you go again. Vector: Not so fast! Gru: No! Margo: Let me go! Gru: Margo! I'm coming, Margo. Hang on! I got you.Vector: No! Oh, poop. News Reporter: This time, good triumphs, and the moon has been returned to its rightful place in the sky. But once again, law enforcement is baffled, leaving everyone to wonder, who is this mysterious hero? And what will he do next? Gru: Okay, girls. Time for bed. Edith: Come on! We want a story. Agnes: Three sleepy kittens! Gru: Oh, no! Sorry. That book was accidentally destroyed maliciously. Tonight we are going to read a new book. This one is called One Big Unicorn by... Who wrote this? Me! I wrote it. Look, it's a puppet book! Here, watch this. That's the horn! Agnes: This is gonna be the best book ever! Gru: Not to pat myself on the back, but, yes, it probably will be. Here we go. "One big unicorn, strong and free "thought he was happy as he could be. "Then three little kittens came around "and turned his whole life upside down." Edith: Hey, that one looks like me! Gru: No, what are you talking about? These are kittens! Any relation to persons living or dead is completely coincidental. "They made him laugh. "They made him cry. "He never should have said goodbye. "And now he knows he could never part "from those three little kittens "that changed his heart. "The end." Okay, all right. Good night. Margo: I love you. Gru: I love you, too. No, no! All right. Didn't I get you already? They're very good! Gru's Mom: I'm so proud of you, Son. You've turned out to be a great parent! Just like me. Maybe even better. Gru: No, I'm fine. Go ahead. No, no, no! THE END Hey, Carl! Hey. No, no, no. Me, me, me. John? No, no. Me, me, me. Oh,

poop. Oh, no! Stop! Stop! Hello, I am Gru. Back to work, back to work! Back to…

IS THIS THE ENTIRE FUCKING SCRIPT?

[katnissmellarkkk]

Andddd here’s my chappy three thoughts 🥳🥳🥳

Hmmm Katniss saying that her mother has a dress made of velvet is actually really interesting because it shows that Mrs. Everdeen Lily-Rose really was well-er off before she married Katniss’ father Hunter.

Or did she get the velvet dress from Maysilee? Oh well, who knows.

Aww, Katniss’ nervous habit of touching soft things repeatedly to soothe herself 🤧🤧.

“Crying is not an option. There will be more cameras at the train station.” — someone tell that to Peeta 🤣🤣🤣.

Okay I gotta stop picking on Primmers, I know but like. How small is she that she sits on Katniss’ lap like a toddler but then in the following year is the same height as her? Doesn’t matter I know but still I wonder.

Okay so Mrs. E is the doctor for the people of the Seam? Idk I never thought about this but who does people like Peeta or Madge or Delly go to if they’re sick or hurt? Is there a still running apothecary shop that Katniss never mentions? Are her grandparents still running the family biz?

Also okay, I gotta stop having so many thoughts on all the lil details I know but like. Katniss says here she’s familiar with the herbs her mother doesn’t grow on her own so like a). Katniss is more of a healer than she leads on because no average person knows what kind of plant is medicinal and b). Her mother is just growing herbs and Katniss never mentions it again in the whole series? Or I just missed it.

Okay imma move on from this one singular paragraph but Gale and her made a pact a year ago that they’ll supply each other’s family with game if they were to be reaped... I’m feeling like their close friendship is probably only one year old then? Idk. Just my interpretation.

Honestly I love Katniss getting mad at her mom here.

She’s sixteen, for God’s sake, of course she’s angry at what her mother’s illness put her through.

Also I lowkey like that her mother got mad back because that lady in the movies had zero personality.

“Boys who are two to three times my size.” She sounds so little, omg 🥺🥺🥺.

“I don’t care if we’re rich, I just really want you to come home” 🤧🤧🤧😩😩😩😩 okay Primmers, you got me here.

“the Peacekeeper is at the door, signaling our time is up, and we're all hugging one another so hard it hurts and all I'm saying is ‘I love you. I love you both.’ And they're saying it back...” this is so sad leave me be 😫😫😫😫

Katniss is burying her face in a pillow to block out her emotions this is too much for me 🥵🥵🥵

Omg I forgot Peeta’s father visits Katniss 😅

Why does he visit Katniss?

She describes Peeta’s father as a “big, broad-shouldered man.” And then describes Peeta as stocky. Idk the comparison of the two descriptions has always led me to think Peeta is gonna be a big dude when he grows up like his father. This made no sense and had zero correlation but I thought, so I said it, no regrets

Oh he brought her cookies 🤧

WAIT WAIT WAIT. I just had a new thought, y’all. What if instead of the baker bringing cookies being a thing he does for all tributes, what if he’s bringing the cookies because Peeta asked him to, because he made them and wants to give them to Katniss and knows she’ll never accept / trust them coming from her competition? What if that’s the real reason the baker visited her in the first place? Because Peeta asked him to? This was such a shipper comment but idc, no regrets, remember?

Omg Peeta’s father is just mute 🤣🤣🤣

Between an abusive, angry mother and a mute for a father, the Mellark brothers must have had a fairytale of a childhood 😅😅😅😅.

But seriously #PoorPeetaMyBaby

Aww Peeta’s father is gonna help keep Prim alive 😭

Omg I just remembered he’s her mother’s ex boyfriend. Haidon Mellark, as I named him in my fics.

That one fic where he was thought to be Prim’s real father is just playing now in my head, rent free.

But does Katniss not realize that he may be offering to help Prim as a favor to her? Like she claims Prim is just so wonderful people adore her but there’s like zero evidence in the text that make her endearing? Okay I need to turn this bus around, I need to find a love for Primmy Deen.

Madge is not one for preamble apparently. No “hi, how are you? I’m sorry you’re gonna die? What will your last meal be?” Just right to “here, wear this family heirloom of mine, k thanks.”

I like that Madge had to kiss her cheek for Katniss to realize they were friends 😅😅😅.

I remember always loving her and Gale’s hug here. I’ve always felt like it was platonic, but especially when I first read the books and had zero preference one way or another for Gale or Peeta, I really liked how she said even with nothing romantic between them, “when he opens his arms, I don’t hesitate to go to him” or something I’m paraphrasing ok I’m lazy

Also though, this is the first time they’ve ever hugged? Idk why that surprises me? It shouldn’t because where is a hug gonna fit into a hunting trip 😅🤣😂 “I just caught a deer!” “let’s celebrate with a hug!”

I like that Katniss remembers how her father even failed to make a good bow sometimes. Random, I know.

I like that the Capitol weren’t entertained by the people freezing to deaths because it wasn’t bloody enough 🤭🙃

“How different can it be [to kill a human vs an animal]?” She’s about to find out, Gale 🥺. And when she comes back you won’t understand 🙄😔

What did Gale want to say before the Peacekeepers dragged him away?

I used to think it was a confession of love but I’m actually sure it wasn’t now? Just the wording “remember I-“ doesn’t sound like it, considering he never confessed anything prior to her coming home.

I’m assuming now he was just gonna give her some more advice to stay alive 🤷🏼‍♀️. Clearly if it were relevant it would have made its way to the others books.

Aww, she’s never been inside a car before 😭😭. I didn’t even know they had cars in this universe but okay.

I notice though how she says “In the Seam, we travel on foot.” So is Peeta just riding his trolly down the street every day with the other merchants then? 🤣

Peeta just openly crying on camera 😅😢.

I like how Katniss is like “ooo is this an act to get sponsors?” when in reality Peeta’s like “no, I’m just a soft and genuine boy ™️”

Omg I just realized this totally goes along with Peeta’s thing later on “I want to die as myself”

He’s refusing to hold back his emotions because he thinks he’s doomed to die and he’s already refusing to pretend to be or feel something ingenious.

But a Johanna mention in book 1 chapter 3 woohoo 🥳🥳🥳 also Katniss comparing Jo and Peeta is kind of like foreshadowing of their shared torture in book 3.

Omg she just called Peeta broad-shouldered and strong. 🥰🥰🥰 my headcanon for his post-canon body is confirmed

Also why does Katniss keep allotting his strength to carrying bread trays around? Are they heavy? Why have I never once heard of people who carry bread trays being strong? I always thought Peeta was really strong because he learned to fight in order to defend himself against his mother but that’s probably wrong.

But if a mother is abusive, it can lead to one of the kids being physically violent as well and we know Peeta isn’t but he has two older brothers I’m gonna cut myself off now but I think we all smelled what I just stepped in.

Also I just find it so fascinating now how she regards herself vs Peeta here.

When talking about herself, she says, “The competition will be far beyond my abilities. [...] Oh, there'll be people like me, too. People to weed out before the real fun begins.” But when she talks about Peeta, she immediately says, “It would take an awful lot of weeping to convince anyone to overlook him.”

It’s just funny how she discounted herself right from the start but thought he was a real contender and then come to find out, Peeta believes it’s the exact opposite 😂🙃. They’re both so stupid I can’t even take it.

Wait did they actually give the location of the Capitol and the location of District Twelve in today’s world? And I just overlooked it? Brb I’m gonna go to google maps right quick.

Okay so basically what I gathered is the Capitol is probably in New Mexico and District Twelve is somewhere between Kentucky and Alabama. Irrelevant I know. But just a reminder now to everyone that Katniss and Peeta are literally speaking, crying and screaming in thick, backwoods southern accents.

It’s literally so sad how everything for Katniss is about food. Like every motive she has, every action she does is about preventing starvation ever again. 🤧🤧🤧

First mockingjay mention 🤭🤭.

“My father was particularly fond of mockingjays” 😭😭😭 I bet he was 😭😭😭😭

We always go on and on about how Katniss is a mockingjay or her children are mockingjays but Katniss herself here says mockingjays represent her father imma cry, y’all 😫😫😫😫

“It’s like having a piece of my father with me, protecting me” shut up shut up shut up shut up

Awww, Katniss has never had food like this before 😔😔😔

Neither has Peeta 🤧🤧

Katniss disliking the way Effie put the two kids from the year before down and so began to eat like a pig just to prove her point, is so her. And the beginning of her fighting for the underdog.

Omg the Rue introduction 🥺🥺🥺

Bahahahaha the commenters calling District Twelve backwards but charming 😅😅😅 they really are the hillbilly district

Peeta’s unexpected laugh 🥺🥺🥺 I love you, baby

“He was drunk. He’s drunk every year.” “Every day.” Katniss and Peeta are already finishing each other’s sentiments and teaming up to get on Effie’s nerves I love them so much 😍

Oh my God, Effie, you selfish jerk. They’re kids having fun for like one second, no need to throw in their faces they’re gonna die if the drunk won’t help them. I’d forgotten why I don’t really like the book version of her. I actually prefer her as comedic relief in the movies.

I actually just realized I really dislike Effie Trinket, I hope they never speak to her again Post-Mockingjay. Idc how you’re raised you don’t need to treat teenagers who are sentenced to a probable death badly just because they laughed at you 🙄🙄🙄😡😡😡😡. They didn’t even really laugh at her, she’s just annoying and awful, we don’t stan Effie in this household.

Okay, that’s all for my thoughts on chapter three! Until next time, y’all ! If anyone actually read this long mess of a post.

[whump-town]

See, How The Most Dangerous Thing Is Love

Where you go I'm going So jump and I'm jumping Since there is no me without you

She can’t stop running and, like an idiot, he keeps chasing. 

warnings: i don’t think there is anything to warn against which seems odd... considering... but I did use some weird fucking metaphors and I don’t know if they make any sense... 

Hotchniss

If the tension between Aaron Hotchner and Emily Prentiss wasn’t apparent upon their reunion following Elle’s leave, it was painfully clear after Tobias. Eggshells be damned. He inquires around her compartmentalization, tone dark, and judging where JJ had just meant to build a bridge. He had aimed to tear one down. To remind her just how out of place she is in this unit.

There can only be one lone wolf in the pack.

“You came off of a desk job--”

She narrows her eyes, feet shifting. He’d come out of nowhere, as she’s finding he often does, and that just aggravates her even more. She’s a trained spy and Interpol agent, he shouldn’t be able to sneak up on her. The shield she throws between them does nothing when he already has his own firm in place. Feet planted in preparation for her attack.

Her revenge is sweet.

It starts with the way her back draws tight as a bow.

“No, stop. Stop. All right everybody right now-- what’s my worst quality?”

The flip of her dark hair, drawing the limp branch of a tree towards her chest. Poised ready to strike out towards him and the tight coil of childish glee derived from mischief in her chest. Her words the fiery snap of its release, the edge catches his cheek to leave an open, jagged wound. “You don’t trust women as much as men.” The room’s attention lays in the silence of that lashing. Their eyes watching the dark crimson of his blood trickle down his cheek.

And he wipes it away. Unflinching as he powers on. He can see it in their eyes, the way they keep looking back at the wound on his cheek. Thinking about the words and their implications. How they each drew back and laid into him with their strikes.

He can see it in Emily, the way she awaits her second chance. She’ll draw that branch back again. There are more branches, he suspects, in her forest of mistrust and impatience with him. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t have a few branches of his own he’d like to hit her with.

It is only in the most fundamental way that they trust one another.

“Don’t get me wrong, Johnny.”

A drop of sweat runs along his hairline and down the back of his neck. The heat of Alabama in August is worse than Virginia and even stripped of his suit jacket, the weather is insufferable. The rickety old pisshole of a house groans under the weight of the four adults standing in the attic. With no draft and dust covering every visible surface, it smells like something’s crawled up here and died. He suspects, if he were to look hard enough, he’d find that to be true.

Johnny and Mark Wrights have been murdering and raping teenage girls from the local high school. Grown men covered in grim and old denim-- the epitome of the white trash that comes to mind when they set out to solve these kinds of cases. It makes Hotch feel a deep shame for being raised anywhere near the south. Now, as he stands pinned to Johnny’s chest, the heavy scent of pig shit and sweat covering the man, he feels deep condemnation for the south.

He wants to get as far from this town as possible.

Prentiss’ gun is steady. As far as agents to come to have his back, he’s lucky that it’s her. Her brows raise a fraction when she steps into the room, surprised that it’s him. It takes him off guard that she’s choosing empathy with these men. She repeats her earlier statement. “Don’t get me wrong, boys,” she shakes her head and her eyes flicker to Hotch. “That’s my boss you have there.”

Johnny digs the barrel of his gun into Hotch’s face, the metal biting his flesh. He’s antsy. Emily must see that… surely, she must know that she won’t be able to talk her way out of this.

“Now,” she smirks. Her inflection has risen to nonchalance as if talking to a friend. Her shrug of indifference makes his chest feel dangerously tight. “He’s a dick,” she informs them. “Makes my life a living hell.” His eyes glued to her index finger. She’s talking and moving and if she’s distracted him with her words then she’s distracted the Unsubs too. “He’s got a little boy at home though,” her eyes flick to him.

He’s hit with a sudden understanding.

“So…” he watches her back once again. A bow, bending to snap. He ducks, this time, when her branch comes flying back at his face. Throwing his weight to the side, he takes Johnny by surprise, and before he can blink there are two quick shots that ring the end.

For a stunned moment, he’s laid out on his back. His eyes are on the ceiling just breathing and shaking.

She comes to stand at his side, offering him a hand up.

He takes it.

“Don’t,” she says before he can thank her. Her eyes are dark. She’s displeased. Not only with him and the stupidity that got them in this mess, to begin with, but for the girls. Emily had wanted to bring those girls justice. To sit at Johnny and Mark’s court hearings. To drink herself numb and to see them thrown in jail so they’d never see the light of day ever again.

Executed in the attack of some rickety old house just isn’t the same.

He nods his head.

They part ways.

But he can see her back.

And she sees his hands.

She lashes out and he pulls scabs apart. He agitates old wounds. His thumb works across his finger, picking at a scab, and then he draws blood and she watches as he dumbly looks down at his hands. As if he’s confused at why it would bleed.

A serial arson typically leaves little room for emotional collateral but, of course, he makes an exception. He digs his thumb into his finger, rubbing back and forth, voice breaking, and attention split as he makes connections that no one else sees. Gideon steps to his side, calming Hotch and stopping the trickle of blood over his callused hands. Holds his own hands over the wounds.

She sees that day, the scars that litter his ledger. The scabs… Aaron Hotchner is an open wound. He can’t let anything go. Won’t let the wounds heal. He needs the pain the way she needs the bows. She hates that she’s starting to understand this man that she hates so passionately.

Hearing him shout, the pain in his voice as he tears viciously after Evan Abby makes her falter. There he goes again, picking at wounds that should have healed. Who exactly is he saving? It’s not Abby. The man is a walking corpse, riddled with cancer. Watching as Hotch sinks into Morgan’s arms, his dread and hopelessness bringing him to his knees.

The blood falls down his hands.

But he picks at a wound that makes her bow and all is right, once again, in their little world.

“I want you on that plane with me.”

She finds him on a bender a few days later. The case is solved but that doesn’t mean she feels any better about the way that they left things. A boy swept up in their carnage-- “the boy brought me this last one. Didn’t even ask him to.” She sits down one barstool away from him and wonders if he’s thinking about that too.

But he’s scratching. Not at his hands but at the tumbler he twirls lazily around, mesmerized by the amber liquid in it. He throws what little is left into his mouth and grimaces, not at the taste but at the scab he’s just pulled free. She watches the blood fall.

He gets good at stopping her attacks.

“There’s nothing we could have done,” he breathes, the hurt in his voice the only reason she doesn’t shoot him down with a scowl. For some reason, he takes the seat across from her and pushes a coffee to her. She looks at the mug and then at him. His head dipped, eyes on the sludge he’s calling a peace treaty.

She wraps her hands around the mug. The effect of the warmth is immediate. “I know,” she admits, sipping at the liquid. God, that pisses her off. He always makes the coffee perfect. She can’t even make her coffee the way she likes.

He hums, shaking his head. “I think…” he glances at her and looks out the window. “I think I’m still trying to convince myself that.” The soft admission is so… unlike him. Where is the gruff push? The fire in his eyes. She finds only hard truth. Standing rooted where he is, he frowns with something he can’t convince himself isn’t worry.

Where does she go? Tonight, he will go home and find it empty. Which is fine because he can’t be around Haley and Jack on a night like this. He is no husband. No father. He needs to remind himself of the emptiness that is Aaron Hotchner. The pain and the torture. He’s not meant to be a father and he pushes his father’s legacy a little harder each day he pretends his marriage is a happy one.

If she can not get lost in these faux realities… What does she do?

Him. She does him.

For a month he convinces himself that he can fix the little pieces of his marriage but finds his hands covered in the jagged wounds of the glass carnage. As it turns out, some things simply refuse to go back together. He bleeds and bleeds and Emily, of all people, comes to mend his aches. Moving him away from the fragments, forcing him to let go.

The sex is harsh. He’s rough and she lets him. Urging him on with the roll of her own hips, his hair gripped tightly in her hand. They’ve hurt one another gravely and to know his weaknesses makes her that much better at drowning out his pleasure. She’s surprised to find that his mouth isn’t just good for smart ass remarks.

It sparks something deep within them both.

“Garcia thought she heard…” JJ tightens her mouth, forcing her smile down. She glances over at Garcia, the two sharing smiles that can’t be hidden. For the first time in a while, Garcia came with them on a case. Meaning their usual splitting of the rooms didn’t work so Emily, instead of rooming with JJ, roomed with Hotch.

Garcia smirks at Emily, “I just heard someone up last night.”

Emily knows exactly what they heard. She feigns innocence none-the-less. “Late?” she asks. “I was in bed as soon as we got back.” Which is true because she had Hotch pinned to the wall with a hand down his trousers before the door could swing completely shut behind them. It didn’t take long for him to flip the script and have her on the bed. “I doubt it was anyone from the team, weren’t you all exhausted?”

Garcia accepts that as an answer. For now, that’s reasonable enough. It’s rather silly, is it not, to assume something is going on between Hotch and Emily, of all people. They really sell their pitch with the heated, just under their breath, argument that they have only an hour later. Though it isn’t to save face but because he’s an asshole sleep-deprived and she’s, truly, exhausted for the same reason. JJ and Garcia both feel rather stupid for having thought the commotion the night before could be them.

Six months later, it happens again.

“We were arguing,” Emily offers with hefty-sigh. She’s not just selling her role. Lately, they’ve had to repeatedly come to a heated, uncomfortable debate. Their relationship, what it is and what is really isn’t, is being questioned. Are they enough to power through the last year? Should they be something that makes it through the next?

She rubs at her eyes, careful to keep her hair brushed over her neck. While she’d checked and double checked this morning for any marks on her neck, Hotch has been rather nippy (in all sense of that word) and the last thing she needs is explaining some rogue hickey he’s placed. Unlike him, she doesn’t have a high collar to hide behind.

JJ raises an eyebrow but says nothing. The two of them are going through something, the whole team has noticed. Though, if they’re honest, they don’t suspect the rocks and tumbles of a relationship getting onto its feet. They’re waiting for one of them to snap. Whether it be Emily, who will likely pack up her belongings and leave. Regardless of her love for the team. Hotch… well, he’s losing his grip on his so solidly built and reinforced shields. His pain and discontent are slipping through his armor.

“Arguing?”

Emily sighs, nodding. “He’s an asshole,” she mumbles. “What do you want me to say?” Her tone, tense and defensive, raises a little more attention than she meant it to. Lowering her head, she digs her fingers into her temples. She’s not sure if it’s better or worse that Hotch notices immediately as he walks into the room. There’s a tense moment, the two of them just staring at each other, before he clears his throat and jumps right back into the problem at hand.

The case always comes first. Their relationship after every other conceivable thing.

It makes sense, for them, until it doesn’t.

“This isn’t what you signed up for.”

Up until that moment, he’d considered himself hiding fairly well behind his scowl. Aaron is safely nestled where Hotch can’t hurt him and, what scares him even more, is how protected he is from Prentiss. Because Emily might have tears streaming down her face right now but he knows he’s looking at Prentiss. From the steel in her dark eyes to the conviction that feels, and is, so misplaced.

He swallows around the stupidity that tries to come fumbling out of his mouth. Something sentimental, foolish. “I don’t understand,” he manages. It has taken him his entire adult life to admit to that. To find the courage to say when he doesn’t follow and all for what? To sit here, at her hospital bedside, and grit out the confession. He can’t fucking say I love you but he can consume the poison of letting go.

To succumb where he should fight.

“Please,” she whispers, softly. But she hadn’t been the other half watching. Unable to do a damn thing while her screams, the muffled sounds of her body hitting the walls, had filled his head. He’d listened as Cyrus beat her. In a way, no he didn't sign up for this. No one in a relationship wants every thought about their partner to be about the end. Will it come soon? Leaving one partner to grieve the other longer than they knew each other? To answer to that mourning call-- what is left when all you are is taken? What parts of him are really her?

“If it’s what you want.” he rasps.

She turns her head, barring to him the sight of the bruise that takes up the right side of her jaw. That’s answer enough.

Dave takes her home from the hospital that evening, wondering what exactly it is that’s happened. He noticed the two of them today. He’s not stupid. “How are you feeling?” he asks, looking over at her on his passenger seat. Getting hurt happens but this is the first time she’s ever had to call someone to pick her up. Dave knows, in that way a parent knows that the silence of their children spells encroaching doom, who was supposed to drive her home tonight. One might call it, also, parental intuition.

She doesn’t lift her head from the window. Doesn’t even look at him. “Fine.”

Dave knows Hotch will answer with the same answer Monday when they return from the office.

Calling the two of them tense is an understatement.

Emily returns to work and they steer clear of her. The whispers follow her weary body around like a cloak. That she can manage. That is nothing.

It’s his absence that she feels.

Her coffee tastes odd. She’s grown used to the way that he makes it. Too strong and with no creamer but no matter what she does it just doesn’t taste the same. He’s even ruined tea. His mouth always tasted of Earl Grey or the bitter remnants of his coffee. Now, even smelling Earl Grey twists a knife within her. One she buried herself.

He’s fucking everywhere.

It’s driving her mad.

The worst part is that he’s not there.

In her bed, she rolls over. Throwing a leg over where his hips would usually be. She finds nothing but soft, used cotton. Not even the pillow carries the lingering scent of him.

His sweater hangs over a chair in her room but it’s absent of his warmth. She’s worn it too often and now she can’t even bring it to her face to pretend he’s here.

Nightmares plague her sleep and she wonders if this is penance for breaking his heart or if he’d just kept them away.

She watches, one night, as her nightmares crawl out of her ears sneer right back at her.

“Where’s Hotch?” Emily falls into step with JJ.

The blonde shrugs, “I called him twice. He’ll just have to meet us here when he wakes up.”

Though she falters, body stiffening and pausing, she tries to carry on unbothered. Seemingly unbothered by this progression. Hotch never lets his phone go to voicemail.

She’s the one that finds him four hours later. Lying supine, unresponsive in a hospital bed. The doctor’s words roll right off her, she takes in only that he will, eventually, be okay. And she wonders what it would have been like to really lose him. Not to just yearn for him but to not even avoid his eye in the hall. To hover with her finger over his contact and for there to be no possibility that he’ll answer.

Dead.

He could have died.

Stupidly, foolishly, she takes his hand. His eyes crack open and she pretends she doesn’t see his immediate relief followed far too closely by the pain. Physically brought on by the wounds of both her hands and Foyet’s.  “I almost lost you,” she says.

He closes his eyes when she kisses him but when they pull apart he grimaces. Consciousness is painful, miserable. Her hand clutched by his, he manages a few weak breaths. Each one builds the strength to speak. “You can’t lose what you never had,” he answers, a moment later. By the time the cruelness of his truth has hit her, he’s slipped back under the drugs. His hand limp and clammy.

He’s right, though.

They both knew where he was coming in. The ins and outs of his embrace. That he’d pull her in and push her away in the same breath. Afraid, too afraid, to try at this again and, yet, he’d tried. He might not have had the strength to manage love but he’d held her through the nights. He knew her favorite foods and was never shy about tearing her apartment apart for missing the heating pad if she needed.

And what had she done for him?

She’d tricked him. Lured him in with the lies that she could do this. But she’s still drawn tightly. A bow that lashes out. Hurting others before they have a chance to hurt her and, as a result, she’s killed him more than Foyet could have dreamed.

Mostly, what he means is that she never allowed herself to have him. She never had him and, yet, she misses him every step of the way.

They have one another one last time.

She settles her hips over his and looks everywhere but the agitated, raised scars across his chest. He’s not cleared for strenuous activity but if he can’t have her, can’t feel her lips moving up his jaw and her fingers snaking up his side he’s certain that will kill him far sooner than any strain to his body. He’d rather die by her hand anyhow.

After that, there is no more, but it lingers thickly in the air.

She’s still Emily when her name comes out of his mouth. She still watches his lips, wondering if she were to capture them with her own if they would still taste the same. He looks for her first when things get dangerous and it’s his name she wakes up crying.

Haley dies. Emily puts distance between them but he still looks for her first.

“Please,” she places her hands on his chest. Forcing his body away even though just the feeling of her palms pressed to his chest sends yearning straight down her spine. “Aaron,” his name comes choked. “Please, if you knew me, if you had any idea of the things that I have done you’d run. I need you to run, don’t you understand that?”

He looks down at her, mouth open. Can she not see him? That he is a man made up of scars and scabs. A wound that bleeds. He picks and pokes and he bleeds all over everything. “I don’t run,” he says. He hadn’t run from the carnage of his marriage. Can’t she remember picking him up after that whole affair. Digging the glass from his hands where he’d stabbed and ripped himself to shreds to catch the falling debris of a life he thought he still had.

She deflates, sinking into the realization that her love is the worst thing for him right now. It’s a drug to him and she’s given him far too much. “I know,” she says, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Because you never know what’s good for you.”

His fingers ghost over her cheek and holds her face in his hand. “You let me decide what’s good for me,” he whispers. “I can protect myself, Emily.”

Not against this, she thinks. Not against her. He’s never known when to pull away and when to fight harder. It’s going to get him killed.

But it’s her laying on the ground, impaled, gasping for breath.

Hotch sees her blood all over Morgan’s hands. The hitch in the younger man’s choked breath as he recounts what happened. Attempting and failing to keep the details straight as he tells Hotch, in great detail, what happened. The way she’d lost reality for glimpses. Asked for him. Called out for Aaron, not Hotch, but Aaron. And Hotch doesn’t know what to say when Morgan rises to his feet and challenges-- “What the fuck was that about? What did you two do?”

But it’s fine because JJ comes out and places Morgan right back into his chair, silencing him with seven words. All hitting a little harder, too solidly across his shoulders. “She never made it off the table.”

Emily Prentiss never let herself love Aaron Hotchner but that never stopped him. And, in the end, she’d been there. Through Foyet, she’d been there. Where was he when she needed him?

He sends her to London with JJ, his goodbye rushed, and guilt.

She’s in London. He goes to Afghanistan. Neither make it home entirely alive.

She should have known. 

Admittedly, she is a little wine drunk. Tipsy, really. Inhibitions lowered in the warmth of Dave’s living room. She’s missed them all so terribly that the ache of their absence being lifted has left her exhausted. She’d been in a near daze when she’d taken her wine and moved to the couch. Leaning into Dave’s side when he’d taken the seat beside her. While Jack and Henry recount the events of every day she’s missed according to their greatest accuracy.

Their silly little stories are well worth the soft laughter it draws from the others.

“Where are you going?”

So now, as she stands and leaves Dave’s side cold-- she’s not sure what she was expecting to find in the depths of his eyes but the fear is startling. “Water,” she says, holding up her empty glass. “Water and to pee, I’ve had way too much wine.” She tips the glass and winks at Jack. Trying her best to lighten the mood she hadn’t realized she’d tank just by standing.

Garcia peels herself from the chair she’s sharing with Morgan, ignoring the way he seems to startle at the aspect of losing her pressed into his side. “I’ll join you on the bathroom run, pumpkin,” she says, collecting her glass and Morgan’s from the table at their side. “Another drink, my chunky hunky?”

Morgan smirks but shakes his head, “no thanks, Baby Girl. Someone has to be sober for the drive home.”

As good as that plan sounds, Hotch still grunts. The room’s attention shifting to their leader. He’s been startlingly silent, even for him, all afternoon. Seemingly tucked away from every encounter they’ve had amongst themselves. “You’ve all had too much to drink to drive home,” he says. “You should… calls cabs.” The strength of his interjection leaves his voice as Emily meets his eyes. He lowers his gaze and with it, the point of his statement.

Dave does not fail to notice this. Clearing his throat, he agrees. “I’ll go call your cabs.” He stands, rubbing a hand down his face. Fingers working into the creases of his lips. “Aaron,” he nods his old friend over. “Give me a hand?”

That sets about the motion of the room.

Emily’s making her way down the hall when Garcia catches her. “What is it,” Emily asks, playfully. She waits for Garcia to catch up to her, holding out her hand for what she’s expecting to be a trip full of the secrets of her and Derek’s relationship. Something good. A win.

“Can you make him stay?”

Emily desperately wants to pull from Garcia’s hold. Her grip is intense, desperate. She tries to pull away from Garcia’s hold. “What?” she asks softly, looking over her shoulder for some help. “Who? Who needs to stay?”

The desperation in Garcia’s eyes is unsettling. She lowers her voice even more pulling them closer. Her voice breaks as she says it. Tears swelling and running against the mascara over her eyelashes-- “Hotch.” She clenches her teeth, showing the most self-restraint Emily’s seen since they stepped foot in this hall. “He left us,” she breathes, sadly. “A month after you were gone. I went to his office--” her eyes dart as she speaks. “I started bringing him coffee every morning to cheer him up.”

Emily swallows thickly around the guilt that creeps up. Her death had broken them. She’d known that, of course. She just hadn’t considered Hotch. Brave and strong and it’s so hard to tell when he’s hurting. Then to bare her lie? Another cross on his back. More weight on his shoulders.

“I went in--” the tears fall as Garcia’s voice shakes. “He wasn’t there. He’d cleaned his office up and you know how he is.” That big oak desk is always littered with paperwork. One side to the other. He stacks it everywhere. Leaving pens from one end of the room to the other. You can’t even sit on that old couch of his without getting stabbed in the ass by a pen he’s lost. “Clean,” Garcia whispers. “He just left, in the middle of the night. By the time we came in, by the time we could find him he was already over there. Afghanistan.”

The word makes Emily’s chest tighten. What the hell could he be doing over there? That station is always looking for profilers but it’s a death trap. Hotch had said it himself, warning her when they’d sent her the special request. They’ve been operational for five years and gone through seven profilers. All of which have died. No one makes it out of that station alive.

And he’d gone.

“Why would--” she doesn’t even want to finish the question. Doesn't want to put the truth into action. Admit that she knows exactly why he did it.

At least over there he’d die a hero. Leave his son a flag and another parent to bury.

It’s faster than anything he could swallow over here.

Garcia squeezes Emily’s arm, bringing her back to the present moment. To the thing in question. “Can you bring him back,” she whispers frantically. “Can you make him stay?”

Emily doesn’t honestly know. Has she ever been able to make him do anything? “Garcia, I--” Her mouth snaps shut as the man in question steps into the hall. His eyes dart between them and Emily feels rather like a mouse caught in a trap.

He clears his throat and scratches uncertainly at the beard he’s let grow back in. “I was just…” he looks at Garcia and then back at Emily. Clearly caught off guard. “Dave-- I… You’re, ah, the hotel is close to me. I thought I’d save you the cab fare if you wanted to ride back--”

“Yes.” Emily nods, far too quickly. “Thanks,” she says, looking anywhere but at him. “I’d, ugh, I’d appreciate that.”

Hotch looks between Garcia and Emily, before nodding and ducking his head. He leaves the hall, with a slightly awkward nod and steps out. Hands going to his pocket. Hiding.

“Will you try,” Garcia whispers.

Emily watches him walk away. The apprehension in his hesitant movements. His hand scratching at the back of his head until he can hide behind the shield of Jack’s eager talking. Sinking down beside the boy on the couch and hiding himself there. “I don’t know,” she admits, honestly.

The only person that can pull him from the ledge is Hotch and she’s seen him toe it once before.

Packing things up is simple enough.

Hotch stands towards the edge of the hall, Jack slowly falling asleep in his arms.

“Sleepy,” Emily asks Jack, running her fingers through his soft brown hair. Jack shakes his head but doesn’t raise it from Hotch’s shoulder. Hotch has wrapped him in his jacket rather than choosing to fight the boy into it. It’s more a blanket. She pulls it up around him a little better. “You’re not tired,” she asks. “I am. I can’t wait to get to bed.”

Jack smiles but doesn’t admit to the exhaustion weighing his little bones down. “Are you gonna sleep with us?” he asks. He looks down at her with the soft of his father’s. Same impossible depth is hidden behind light brown iris’. It breaks her heart to see the turmoil within him.

Emily frowns but she’s not forced to tell the little boy no. Instead, Hotch’s hand comes to the back of his head. Cupping his neck as Hotch turns to face her. “You don’t have to do anything,” he clarifies with an all too familiar look in his eyes. Mischief. A plan. “We do have the guest room. With clean sheets. You could come home with us.”

Home.

To a real bed.

“I…” she can’t force out the polite no her mother has solidified in her mind the answer to be. No because that’s not fair or right or-- she really wants to sleep in a normal bed.

He bumps her shoulder, “just say yes.”

She looks at him and then at Jack. It’s not a hard thing to want to go home with the two of them. After Foyet, she’d spent many nights camped out on their couch. Waiting for father or son to wake in a panic. He’d done the same in the hospital after Doyle, sleeping on an uncomfortable little cot just so the first thing she saw each time she woke up was someone she knew.

Now it’s different. The dynamic has changed. While he might not know the course of the night has changed, she does.

She just doesn’t know it’s a futile battle.

There is no use fighting over stupid things like sleeping. He tucks Jack into his bed and meets her in his room. She’s already pulled on his shirts over her head. Refraining, forcing herself from burying her face in the material.

It doesn’t stop her from curling into bed beside him. Pressing her face into his shoulder and focusing solely on his hand slipping under her shirt. “You tired…” he asks. She shakes her head. He hums as he thinks. Dragging his thumb over her hip bone, stroking the soft skin. “First crush,” he whispers, ghosting his lips over her neck.

She laughs at that, twisting in his grip to tilt her hips across his. Settling closer to his chest. Drawing her hand up she draws against his skin. “This girl named…” she taps at his chest as she fails to remember the girl’s name. “I can’t remember her name,” she admits, faintly. Blushing. “Does that surprise you?”

Hotch’s eyes have slipped shut, his face turned into her hair. He hums, scrunching his eyebrows. “Surprised about what,” he asks softly. “That you can’t remember her name or that it’s a she?” He pulls her closer, wrapping an arm around her hips.

Emily just… looks at him. He hasn’t even opened his eyes. He’s not even going to comment? She bites her lip and lowers her head back down. “What about you?”

“None. It’s… I’ve only ever--” he blushes, averting his eyes. “Only Haley and you.” He clears his throat… “That’s why I always tried,” he whispers. “Why I tried so hard…”

“It’s not like I didn’t try,” she defends, pulling away from his embrace. “I was trying to protect you from this whole mess. You’re the one who didn’t know when to stop.”

“I don’t know where you get off blaming me,” he says, pulling himself away. He sits up in the bed, turning himself so she can sit and stare at the wall of his back. Little scars marking up his back as he places his arms on his knees. “You ran, Emily. Every single time, you run. Not me.”

Neither look at the other.

“I’m sleeping on the couch,” he announces. “Stay. Don’t make me explain to Jack why you’re not here in the morning.”

She stays where she is. She turns this over in her mind. His words are an open palm slap to the face. She sleeps in his bed, holding onto his pillow and burying her face into the scent. She doesn’t leave but only because she doesn’t want to have to walk past him. This feels like winning so she stays. She eats breakfast with them in the morning, playing and laughing with Jack like she always has.

Like she always does.

“I leave Thursday, if you care.”

She says nothing which is perfect because he’s not sure he can handle anything she might think of.

She knows, without having to be told, that they blame her for not being to keep him here. And, maybe it’s her fault, because she didn’t really try, did she? She did what also does, she hurt him. Now she’s sitting here all alone, wondering what she could have done differently.

Everything.

“We’ll see you when you get home.”

She stands at the back of the group, watching the other’s pull him into hugs. Dave holds Hotch for a long moment, speaking softly so only the two of them can hear what’s being exchanged. Hotch pulls away from that hug with tears falling down his cheeks. “Don’t make me bury another son, Aaron. Please be careful.” And that’s when he sees her.

Derek pushes her forward and she feels all of them watching as she makes her way to him.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he confesses. He doesn’t care that the others are watching. They know enough. They’ve always known.

She feels guilty and she should. “You told me goodbye,” she reminds him. He’d kissed her right before they sent her to London with a packet of new names and passports. To be someone other than Emily. For a second chance. “It--” she looks away. She’s running, again, she knows. And she has to stop running. “It was the only thing that kept me alive, Aaron. I couldn’t let you leave without having told you the truth--”’

He glances up and back to her. Just for a moment, he wonders if the others should be hearing all this but--maybe they’re past all that. Pretending is how people get killed, they learned that with Emily, and he really doesn’t feel like being their repeat.

“I love you,” she confesses. “I know you love me, you always have. I’m sorry that I keep--” fucking it up. “I love you and I need you to come home, okay? So I can stop running.”

He doesn’t believe her. He wants to believe her but everything about Emily Prentiss always hurts and he knows it’s stupid to trust her. “Okay,” he says, afraid anything more will send her for the hills before he can even leave the country. And like an idiot, he bends his neck into her touch. Letting her rise up on her toes to kiss him. “I promise,” he whispers.

Jessica gets the call at midnight. The Bachelor finale had ended hours ago but she’d been sucked into some History channel rerun about ancient Mesopotamia. It’s the haze of the light hour, the warmth of the undertones of sand, the steady deep voice narrating, and the blanket curled around her shoulders that puts her to sleep. She doesn’t stand a chance after the day she’s had.

The call comes at 12:34 and the urgent ringing of her cell-phone makes her heart kick painfully at her chest. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes with one hand, she accepts the call without looking to see who it is. Not that her tired eyes would have recognized the caller anyway.

Not serving as a soldier, the process for notifying the family of any health changes requires a different take. For Aaron Hotchner, it’s put into the FBI’s hand. He’s their tool after all, not the US Army’s.

“I’m sorry to wake you, ma’am,” the voice offers.

Jessica scowls at the formality, sitting up on the couch and desperately searching for the remote. She kills the screen and the room is bathed in silence, aiding her ability to understand and think about what’s going on. “Ugh, can I help you?” She pushes her hair up out of her face, searching the ground and coffee table for a spare hair tie.

“I’m calling in regards to Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. I understand this number is supposed to be the personal line of Jessica Brookes? You’re his emergency contact--”

He deployed in October. Giving her only a week’s heads-up. He’d had the decency to look ashamed of himself, of the state of being he’s caused for them all. She’d understood his situation. Losing his friend had broken him irreparably and he’d wanted to talk about that even less than he had Haley. At least he’d warned her, she knows he hadn’t extended his team the same courtesy.

The man on the line goes on. Something about moving bases and a promise to get back to her as soon as possible.

“Thank you for your service,” the man concludes.

Jessica blinks, frowning at the phrasing. Aaron wasn’t serving. He was punishing himself. This was penance.

“Goodnight.”

She sits back on the couch, eyes vacantly taking in the wall in front of her. He’s on his way home. That’s good but she can’t help but… he’s hurt. Hurt enough for them to discard him back here. How bad is it?

Emily can’t deny her horror.

His eyes move to the blanket. To the empty space of where his limb once was. “It’s… It’s just a leg,” he whispers. He blinks heavily once, twice, and sighs softly as he fails to keep his eyes open. Humming, he parts his chapped lips but can’t find any more words. He’s too tired. “Could be…” his voice slurs and he exhales a heavy breath. “...worse.”

Emily wants to hit him but she’s done being defensive. She’s tired of being the first one to pull away. For once, she just needs to be the one that holds onto a hug a little longer. That lingers. “You could have died,” she whispers thickly. Gently, hesitantly she touches his hand. To her surprise he is the one to move, intertwining their fingers. She sits by his side, eyes glued the empty part of the bed. The nothing of where his leg is supposed to be. Does it really matter that much, though? A single leg?

Not to her. She’s had months to pretend. Every night she has escaped to a new reality with him. Come up with every variety of reality that might occur. What she’d do if he’d come perfectly fine and how they’d have kids and he’d never wake in the middle of the night with nightmares because she’d kill his monsters. How she would cope if he came home horribly disfigured or entirely different. Would it matter? They’d still be Aaron and Emily.  

“I’ll never walk again,” he informs her. His head is tilted into the pillows, casually watching his news wash over her. He wants to know if she’ll stay if he can’t go. If all these years were about the chase, would she stay if he can no longer follow?

She sits down in the chair pulled up to the side of the bed. People have been in and out all afternoon but she’s the first one to receive this news. The other’s don’t really matter because he knows the script, can imagine how each of them react. Garcia will cry. JJ will too but not until she’s leaving. Dave will take it well but he’ll utter something strangely sentimental and sober with the realization that walking was never the priority of Hotch coming home. Morgan and Reid are his wild cards and he doesn’t want to tell them at all. But that’s just not how this works.

“At least you won’t go running off on me.”

He knows what she means, the implication and the diversion. With a huff he raises an eyebrow, “I’ve never been a runner, Emily.”

Emily.

No, she supposes, he never has. “If you can’t run,” she says, heart skipping around in her chest. She feels it pulsing in her throat, tossing itself around in her stomach. “If you can’t run then I won’t run.” She stands, swallowing thickly around the swell of fear in her throat. He watches her, looking up at her as she hovers for just a moment. When she kisses him there are no sparks. Something cold, icy runs it’s fingers into the grooves of her spine but she’s not gripped by any startling realizations.

It’s too late for that.

But he tastes like Aaron and to a girl who’s never had a home in one place, she’s only ever running. Here, against him, she knows what people mean they say a person can be a home. Because she wants to curl into him and forget the edges of Emily. Aaron. It’s always been Aaron.

It surprises him that she stays. She waited until things got hard.

“I’m going to have to go to physical therapy every week.”

She shrugs, “I’ve got a library of books waiting for me to read them. I’ll tackle my reading list.”

“I can’t walk,” he reminds her.

She raises an eyebrow, “so? I didn’t love you before because of your ability to walk.”

“Emily--” he needs her to understand this isn’t as easy as she’s making it. Using the bathroom, showering, sex isn’t even going to be easy. She can’t just brush it off like it’s not going to bother her. It’s bothering him! “Emily, I can’t hold your hand when we go downtown. I’m going to need your help taking a shower and getting to the bathroom. I’m going to have to look for a new apartment because the one I have, there’s no way I can work a wheelchair around in it. It’s-- I’m not the same! We’re not the same!”

She knows. Yesterday she asked Morgan to rig up something in the bathroom. She spent hours with Morgan trying to put a handle or a rail in beside the toilet without ruining the wall. Ordered a shower chair last week that Morgan is probably putting together right now. Garcia and JJ are looking for apartments with larger floor plans because she doesn’t want to be presumptuous and assume he’d want to move into a house with her. But she’s waiting for the right time to bring it up.

“Maybe that’s for the best,” she says. “That we’re not the same. I’m different too.” Does she need to create her own list? Dedicating it all to words for him to comb over. She can’t sleep through the night. Even though it had been a wooden stake that had “killed” she can’t hold a knife. Her hands tremble, this weakness she can’t explain. Her abdomen is just scars, riddled with ugly skin hardened by trauma. Is he prepared to see that?

“Look at me,” she says, squeezing his hand. “It’s been me and you for years. You’re the only thing I really know. So, I’ll take you as you come. However you come. You loved me when I ran, I can love you with a little baggage.”

He frowns, trying to find an out. Not or himself but for her. But she’s unwavering. “Baggage,” he finally caves. He smirks, shaking his head. “Of all the words in the language you know and you pick baggage?”

She cringes, shrugging, “I didn’t really think about it. It just came out.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

She smiles, “you love it.”

He hesitates for a moment but nods, “I do.”

[ljones41]

"INFAMOUS" (2006) Review

"INFAMOUS" (2006) Review I have heard a lot about the two movie biographies based upon Truman Capote’s experiences, while working on his famous non-fiction novel, "In Cold Blood" – 2005's "CAPOTE" and "INFAMOUS", which hit movie theaters a year after the first film. But this review is about the second film . . . namely 2006's "INFAMOUS". Written and directed by Douglas McGrath, the movie starred Toby Jones as Truman Capote.

To be honest, I did not know what to expect of "INFAMOUS". Since it was the second Capote movie to be released, it failed to garner any prestigious critic awards or nominations – aside from a Independent Spirit Best Supporting Actor nod for Daniel Craig, who played one of the Clutters' murderers, Perry Smith. After watching the movie, I found myself wondering why lead actor Toby Jones had failed to earn his own nomination. The man’s complex portrayal of Capote seemed all at once witty, sharp, manipulative, vulnerable and rather sad. In all, it was a brilliant performance. He seemed to revel in Capote’s legendary flamboyant wit and charm in all its glory. One of Jones’ funniest scenes involved Capote’s snappy repartees to prison inmates shouting lewd propositions at him, during his first visit to the prison where Smith and Dick Hickock were incarcerated. Yet at the same time, Jones also revealed the author’s talent for cold-blooded deception and manipulation, which he used to gain the trust of his New York friends, along with the citizens of Holcomb and the two killers, whose anecdotes he needed to complete his book. This talent for drawing out secrets . . . and disclosing them not only attracted the suspicion of Perry Smith, but also got Capote in hot water with his "swans" in the mid-1970s, thanks to an unpublished manuscript of his book, "Answered Prayers". A few chapters managed to end up in the New York magazine, "Esquire". But what is more interesting about Jones’ performance in the movie is that his experiences in Kansas ended up peeling away Capote’s flamboyant façade, forcing him to face the pain and sorrow created by an unhappy childhood. Ironically, it was Capote’s encounters with convicted murderer, Perry Smith, which forced the author to face his personal demons. What can I say about Daniel Craig’s performance? Other than the British actor not only deserved his Independent Spirit Award nomination, but like Jones, he also deserved both a Golden Globe and Academy Award nomination. His Perry Smith was a brooding, quiet man who projected vulnerability, intelligence and brutal menace. It was easy to see how Capote and Smith had developed a close relationship. Both shared a taste for intellectual and artistic pursuits that allowed them to hide from unhappy childhoods that included suicidal mothers. Both actors created a dynamic screen chemistry through two contrasting personalities that seemed to share similar childhood experiences. Craig brilliantly projected Smith’s varying personalities in two scenes – one in which he expressed polite distaste at Capote’s gift of pornographic magazines; and in another, his terrifying anger at the "In Cold Blood" title, which led to a threat of rape of the author. "INFAMOUS" boasted a first-class supporting cast led by Sandra Bullock, who portrayed Capote’s close friend and fellow author, Harper Lee ("To Kill a Mockingbird"). Many critics seemed surprised by Bullock’s excellent portrayal of the warm and wryly amused Alabama author. Apparently, they must have been deluded by some belief that Bullock was only capable of light comedy. But the future Oscar winner was given a chance to showcase her dramatic chops in one "documentary" interview scene in which she expressed Lee’s bitter anger at the public’s demand for an endless supply of entertainment by talented artists. I also enjoyed Jeff Daniels' wry and sardonic portrayal of the Kansas Bureau Investigations officer in charge of the Clutter case, whose family eventually befriended Capote. His performance was highlighted in a favorite scene of mine that featured the development of Capote and Dewey’s friendship over an arm wrestling match. Lee Pace portrayed Dick Hickock, Smith’s partner and the alleged brains behind the attempt to rob the Clutters. I found his performance rather humorous and gregarious, yet there were times it threatened to be a touch frantic. Since "INFAMOUS" gave the audience a wide glimpse into Capote’s New York lifestyle, the movie also included his circle of "swans", with whom he developed a close relationship until his disclosure of their secrets in the mid-70s. Those "swans" included Babe Paley (Sigourney Weaver) – the wife of CBS baron Bill Paley; Diana Vreeland (Juliet Stevenson), the fashion magazine editor; Slim Keith (Hope Davis), the woman who was married to Howard Hawks and Leland Hayward; and Marella Agnelli (Isabella Rossellini), Italian-American princess who became a furniture designer and tastemaker. Also included in that group were publisher Bennett Cerf (Peter Bogdanovich), novelist and Capote’s rival Gore Vidal (Michael Panes). I was especially amused by Stevenson’s humorous portrayal of the vivacious Vreeland, who seemed proud of her own eccentric nature and appreciative of Capote’s attitude toward it. Some reviews have criticized McGrath's tendency to switch the movie’s setting between Capote’s glittering New York world and the somber atmosphere of Holcomb, Kansas. I understood why he did it. Both settings seemed like metaphors for the writer’s contrasting psyche during those six years he worked on "In Cold Blood". It started out with a glittering night with Capote and Babe Paley at the El Morocco nightclub (with Gwenyth Paltrow singing a sultry rendition of "What Is This Thing Called Love") and ended with Capote unable to keep the dark memories of Kansas out of his mind. In fact, once Capote had finally set eyes upon Smith, Holcomb's bleak setting slowly threatened to puncture the frivolous façade he had created, whenever he was in New York. The emotional cost from the book and his relationship with Smith resulted in his inability to write his next book – "Answered Prayers", as shown in the movie’s final scene. The only problems I had with "INFAMOUS" were "documentary" interviews shown during the movie’s first half-hour. Frankly, I believe that the movie could have started out with these interviews, before segueing into the story. And aside from Capote’s tour of the Clutters’ home, I found the sequence featuring his interviews with some of Holcomb’s citizens a little dull and hard to watch. Fortunately, the arrival of Smith and Hickcock ended the dull sequence and from there, my interest in the movie remained constant until the end. Whether one is a fan of the Philip Seymour Hoffman/Bennett Miller film, "CAPOTE", I would recommend "INFAMOUS" . . . or at least give it a chance. In its own way, it is just as fascinating as the 2005 Oscar-winning film.

[naitiaclo960writings]

Day 6 - Mask

(Warnings: Alcohol drinking (consensual tho))

Dean almost cursed his brother for dragging him into this Halloween party just to abandon him ten minutes later for the pleasure of Jessica Moore’s company. Even though they’d been married for two years, those two were still disappearing to go get laid somewhere and Dean really didn’t want to be around when that happened. It wasn’t for him, thank you. And really, a Halloween party? He was over 30 and he didn’t even know that adults were still celebrating this kind of thing like any other Saturday night.

But he was apparently wrong considering the crowded dance floor of that theme bar. Everyone had played along, zombies moving their bodies among vampires, witches and werewolves. Some had opted for more classic costumes such as the nurse near the bar or the clown close of the toilet and from whom Sam would surely stay away. As for the DJ, he was on stage in his pirate disguise, giving the microphone to the beatboxer alien from time to time. The atmosphere was still friendly and it’s not like Dean had anything else to do with his October 31st evening, but he didn’t particularly want to meet anyone tonight.

His Batman costume didn’t seem to be as popular as he would have liked and the only girl who had noticed him all night long — a kind of giant pumpkin stained with blood, nothing very appetizing really — had mixed him up with "this guy from Avengers". Yet his mask was proudly on his face, his eyes surrounded with black make-up, and his cape flew according to his movements as his ears pointed towards the sky. Dean spent $50 on that suit and it wasn’t to be mocked by an uncultivated pumpkin.

Leaning against the bar isolated from the dance floor, Dean sighed, grateful to have at least some alcohol to comfort himself with. He had decided to swallow a few more drinks before going back to his apartment to watch TV when, suddenly, someone came to pull him out of his morose thoughts by bumping into him.

"Oh, really sorry." A low male voice apologized. "I should have looked around before I came down here."

Dean turned his surprised gaze to a man wearing a pretty convincing cowboy suit. Though judging by the wide headscarf on his eyes, he certainly personified an outlaw, a bee pin as a sheriff’s badge. Dean raised his eyebrows, moving to make room for the stranger.

"No harm done." He replied with a casual smile, tightening his grip around his shot of Alabama Slammer.

The cowboy came to take the place next to him before ordering as well, his blue penetrative gaze back on Dean.

"Very successful, the Batman." He said, obviously open to make conversation.

The stranger glanced at him for a moment, from top to bottom, and Dean could not restrain a feeling of pride taking hold of him. He smiled more while turning completely towards his new companion.

"Finally, someone with actual knowledge in this bar!" Dean exclaimed with amusement. "I swear, the next person who calls me 'Captain America' gets hit".

"What, someone dared to make that comparison?" The cowboy marveled in a laugh.

"Oh, you have no idea what I’ve heard." Dean lamented before drinking his shot further, savoring it more than the previous ones. He focused his attention on the cowboy and arched an eyebrow. "Your costume is really cool too, a true rodeo pro with that."

Another clear laugh escaped from the stranger’s mouth, surpassing the music that resonated further on the dance floor. The cowboy’s order finally arrived to him as he answered.

"Me, I don’t know. But William Brooks was certainly a fine gunfighter, that’s right." He replied before dipping his lips in his glass of pure vodka.

Dean eye’s widened, his smile growing bigger and bigger. There were so few people who knew that name, it couldn’t be a coincidence. Of course, for a huge fan of old western movies, the comparison was obvious, but he had to be sure.

"William Brooks as…?"

"Buffalo Bill, exactly."

Dean uttered an exclamation of joy.

"Awesome! Buffalo Bill is one of the best outlaws of his time, his adventures are amazing!" He said as he looked into the cowboy’s blue eyes.

"I know, he is my favorite mercenary!" This one replied in an equally cheerful tone.

Dean felt his night was suddenly changing. Maybe if the cowboy stayed here and talked to him, he might consider staying longer and enjoying the party.

"Dean" He said, raising his glass to the cowboy.

"Castiel." He replied with an easy smile.

They clinked their glasses before swallowing them bottoms up. Finally, without either of them really realizing it, hours —and the shots— flew at an incredible speed. What Dean thought was another tasteless evening turned out to be a very good time as he and Castiel talked. Sam and Jessica even came to him around 1:00 in the morning to tell him that they were going back home and Dean had just said goodbye to them before returning to his exciting conversation with Castiel about the best horror movies. Castiel, to tell the truth, seemed rather cowardly, but he listened to each of his words with particular attention which did not fail to warm Dean’s heart.

Neither of them particularly wanted to dance, happy with their own part of the bar and the distant music as the place gradually emptied. Around 1:30, however, their harmony was disrupted by a third person who was obviously already well drunk. Without being invited, a man in his forties, dressed in a chicken costume, came to interfere in their conversation with a lot of hearty laughter and inappropriate remarks, clearly hitting on Castiel while royally ignoring Dean yet less than a meter away from him.

When the man asked Castiel for his number for at least the sixth time of the evening, he rolled his eyes. Despite all the more or less subtle refusals from Castiel, the man did not seem to get the message and the good mood of the cowboy was gradually flying away as the stranger became touchier. Dean had held himself back until now, not wanting to make a scene and risk embarrassing Castiel, but when the stranger passed a hand stinking of cigarettes around his friend’s shoulder and that Castiel flinched, he decided that it was going too far.

Dean grabbed the stranger’s arm and push him away from Castiel, the man stumbling before catching himself at the bar.

"Hey, man. Get lost. I won’t tell you twice." Dean growled while standing in front of Castiel.

"Wow, easy pal!" The stranger replied, raising his hands in front of him, frowning. "It’s just a fra… fri-friendly discussion here."

It was more than obvious that the alcohol had reached what was left of his brain. Dean did not move an inch.

"Why don’t you go make friends somewhere else, pal?" Dean said in an icy voice. "Get out of here."

Eventually, the man grumbled, but walked away without further ado. Dean turned back to Castiel who raised an eyebrow in his direction. Dean pinched his lips. Great, did he just ruin his chances with him just because he wasn’t able to contain his emotions? Well done Winchester.

"Okay, so it’s not just a costume, is it? You’re a real caped crusader." Castiel finally joked with a happy smile on his face.

Dean relaxed and laughed with him, returning to his place near the bar.

"That’s it, keep laughing. Somebody had to save you from that ambush cowboy." Dean replied, returning to his empty glass.

"Save me, eh? Who says I wasn’t ready to draw at all times?" Castiel pouted.

Dean rolled his eyes.

"No offense, but you could barely aim straight with all the vodka you’ve been drinking." He teases softly, smiling at Castiel.

"Mmh, point for you." He mumbled.

And Dean couldn’t have put it better. Castiel did not stop at this drink and Dean was truly impressed that his friend had not yet vomited the contents of his stomach on his shoes. On the contrary, Castiel seemed to be a happy drunk and, although his words were increasingly incoherent, he also became more tactile. Dean didn’t mind, laughing at his friend’s behavior. He couldn’t really blame him for overstepping his bounds, even a skilled party boy like Dean was sometimes fooled by alcohol.

However, around 3:00 in the morning, the bar began to kick out the last customers and Dean found himself with a drunken Castiel completely slumped against him on a bench in the streets of Chicago.

"And it was just crazy because… because his dog wasn’t even white, you know? And then…

"Cas?" Dean gently cut him off, with a small smile on his face. "I think it’s time to go home. Do you live around?"

Castiel pouted. Dean could not help but think that, even when being completely drunk, Castiel was no less pleasant and attractive. The headscarf had still not left his eyes, blocking his face and hiding it from Dean’s curious gaze. Only two orbs of a brilliant blue continued to stare at him with an absent look, almost swallowed by the black of the pupil.

"… Mmh, maybe?" Castiel mumbled before slumping a bit more against Dean, sleepy.

Dean raised an eyebrow, looking around for his car.

"Okay… Okay, I’ll walk you out, right? What’s your address?"

Once again, Castiel grumbled before shrugging and stared at the pavement with intensity, as if it was whispering all his secrets to him. Dean bit his lip and swore inwardly. It was out of the question for him to leave Castiel alone outside in such a state or to take the risk of calling him a taxi. 

"Well, come here buddy."

Dean grabbed Castiel by the waist and guided him to the end of the street. The journey to his car was not easy, but in the end he managed to put his companion in the passenger seat before taking the wheel. Fortunately, the alcohol had already somewhat faded in his system but he took the time to drive slowly. Dean glanced uneasily at Castiel from time to time, now leaning against the window and observing the landscape in silence. He had become mute, which gave Dean time to think.

What the hell was he doing? Driving a completely drunk stranger home was like the beginning of a very bad situation. Was it considered kidnapping? Dean nervously licked his lips after another look at Castiel. They didn’t know each other that well yet, and the last thing Dean wanted was to scare his friend.

But at a closer look, he had no other choice. Castiel was unable to take care of himself at the moment and it was not an option for Dean to take the risk of putting him in danger. What if he ran into the other jerk at the bar and took him home? No, Dean didn’t want to think about it. At least he had a warm bed and painkillers waiting for him at home.

When they reached their destination, Castiel was even more apathetic than when he left the bar. He kept mumbling anecdotes that Dean was supposed to understand as he was helping him up the three floors to his apartment.

A bunch of encouragement and much patience later, Dean finally closed the door of his home behind them. Castiel immediately took an interest in his AC/DC key ring for a minute before looking around. He seemed to frown under his mask.

"Pepper?" He suddenly called.

Dean frowned too. Was Castiel looking for someone? Dean lost some of the color on his face. Was it his girlfriend? His wife?

"Who is Pepper?" He asked without being able to help himself.

Castiel seemed confused for a moment before shrugging and mumbling.

"Goldfish."

This time, Dean really had to hold back a laugh at the stupidity of the situation.

"Okay, well, I’m sure Pepper is doing just fine. Now you’re going to go wash up and go to sleep." Dean sighed by dragging him further into his apartment, shaking his head.

When they arrived in the bathroom, it was more than obvious that Castiel was equally incapable of doing anything without help. Dean sat patiently on the edge of the tub while his friend stared at him with fascination, complimenting every little detail with a slurred voice. Finally, Dean knelt before him and began to take off his boots. Castiel did not protest, so Dean did the same with his socks, his long black leather coat, his belt, his gloves, his hat and everything else until the cowboy was only in jeans and shirt in front of him.

However, the headscarf was still in place and Dean hesitated before removing it. The piece of fabric was large and covered at least the entire upper part of Castiel’s face, hiding what he perceived to be prominent cheekbones to go with his square jaw. He swallowed. Castiel was simply focusing on an invisible spot near Dean’s ear when he finally decided to untie the knot behind Castiel’s face to remove the mask.

If Dean had believed that Castiel’s eyes were mesmerizing until then, it was nothing compared to the irresistible portrait that had just appeared before him. Dean held his breath for a moment while he allowed himself to admire each piece of skin offered to his sight, Castiel totally oblivious of the red appearing on the cheeks of his host.

He didn’t know after how long he was able to get out of this state —"No kidding, stop looking at people like that, Dean, you’re gonna scare him" he told himself— but he managed to get rid of the costume and make-up in turn before escorting Castiel to his room.

His friend was now more than silent, letting himself be pushed around when Dean laid him out among the blankets. The effect was almost immediate: barely wedged in his pillows, Castiel closed his eyes and his face relaxed. He fell asleep a few seconds later after turning to his side. Dean smiled softly, unable to prevent this urge of tenderness from growing in his chest at this sight. As a precaution, he decided to leave an empty basin and painkillers on the bedside table before letting Castiel sleep.

He’d take the couch tonight.

* * *

Dean awoke to the sweet sound of someone puking his guts out in the bathroom. He sighed. He had not had enough sleep to his liking and the filtering light in his living room kept coming to attack his eyes. Aware that he could not go back to sleep anyway, he decided to go and check on his guest. Dean more or less effectively dragged himself to the barely opened door of his bathroom before gently knocking against the wood.

"…Cas?" He called out in a hoarse voice. "Is everything okay?"

The bathroom became silent a moment after his words before a barely human grunt resounded. Dean sympathized with him.

"I know." He replied gently. "The towels are in the right cupboard if you want to take a shower. And, uh, I should have clean toothbrushes in the first drawer. Take your time."

Another grunt, this time softer, rose again from the bathroom and Dean closed the door before moving on to the kitchen. Ten minutes later, he heard the shower turn on.

When Castiel was finally able to appear in the kitchen with a slightly more presentable face, though still sick, Dean had already had time to prepare the coffee and a pancake batter.

"Morning sunshine." Dean joked, glancing behind him and trying not to look at his friend again for hours." Was yesterday’s rodeo a little too much for you?"

Castiel stared at him with wide eyes before coughing. Dean turned around, raising an eyebrow.

"I, uh… Hello." A silence. Dean smiled kindly as Castiel looked everywhere but in his direction. "Okay, this is going to be really awkward, but, uh... did we… you know?"

Dean adopted a confused expression before blushing until the roots of the hairs, mortified. He really had to learn to choose his words more carefully if he wanted to stop finding himself in these kinds of awkward situations.

"No!" He hastened to rectify. "No, by rodeo I meant... Well… You drank a lot yesterday and I didn’t know where you lived, so I drove you here. The only thing that happened was you calling for your goldfish." Dean let out a little laugh. "But you slept in the bed and I slept on the couch. My sore back is proof."

Castiel seemed to relax a little before finally getting closer. He still seemed a bit embarrassed, probably because of everything he had imposed on Dean the night before, but at least his shy smile had come back to illuminate his face.

"Thank you. I would have hated not to remember that if we had spent the night together." He replied by looking up at him, and Dean could already say that it was not really a joke.

"Oh." That was the only intelligent answer he could come up with.

All this had the talent of relaxing the atmosphere while Dean served a large cup of coffee to Castiel, throwing him soft glances from time to time. His friend took the cup between his fingers before blowing gently on the surface of his coffee.

"I don’t know how to thank you." Castiel said as Dean went back to his pancakes. "If I invite you next time, do you think you can forget all the embarrassing things I probably did yesterday?"

Dean felt a pleasant sensation in his chest as a fine smile bloomed on his face. Castiel seemed almost in the right place in his kitchen, drinking coffee as if it was the most natural thing to do in the world. He nodded slowly, feeling his zygomatic pulling his lips up.

"Yee-haw cowboy." Dean huffed.

Castiel shook his head, amused, while Dean was simply delighted to learn that there would be a next time.

"On one condition though." He quickly added.

"Yes?" Castiel asked, curious.

"Undisguised this time." 

And just like that, this wonderful laugh was back, filling the room with a light and warm atmosphere.

"Deal."

* * * @winchester-reload Hello! Again, I wrote more than I should have written for this story but I’m pretty happy with the result, even though it gave me a hard time. Hope you enjoyed it!

You can find the whole series on Ao3

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[kyber-kisses]

Southern Nights

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: cursing, angst, sad!boi dean hours, very slight canon divergence.

Summary: When the British men of letters start killing American hunters, Dean panics for the readers safety.

A/n: had this idea tumbling around in my head for awhile and finally decided to write it. Hope y’all enjoy and feedback is greatly appreciated! (I also based this off of Flower Power by Greta Van Fleet so go and give it a listen!)

Things had not being going smoothly to say the least. Not smoothly at all.

Taking a deep breath Dean rested his body weight against the drivers side door of Baby, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he waited for Sam to finish up his phone calls. Thirty minutes ago they had walked out of the morgue from seeing Eileen's body and now apparently their mother was missing.

“Are you done yet?” Dean sighed, holding up his wrist to check his watch impatiently. The only answer he got from Sam was a finger being held up, telling him to give him another minute.

Another groan and Dean was letting his head fall back against the roof of the car. A minute later he heard Sam saying his goodbyes followed by a click and he was lifting his head up again.

“Well?”

“So, yeah- I’ve finished calling around about all the hunters who’ve died in the past few weeks. And um-“

“And um what?”

“They’ve all had years of experience. If this really is the British men of letters, I think their trying to wipe out American hunters.” Sam explained, watching Deans face for a reaction. The older Winchester pinched the bridge of his nose,eyes squeezed shut, no doubt frustrated with the whole situation.

“Oh well that’s just fan-freakin-tastic.”

Another few seconds past and then Deans eyes snapped back open, Jade irises now wide as he pushed himself away from the car.

“Shit, Y/N.”

Immediately understanding where Deans mind was going, Sam was already rounding the side of the vehicle to get to the passenger door. “When was the last time you talked to her?”

“I don’t know, four weeks ago- maybe five?” Dean spoke quickly, yanking open his own door and quickly sliding in, keys already in the ignition. “Try calling her. We need to make sure she’s alright.”

Tapping furiously at his screen, Sam nodded as he pressed the device to his ear. “Already on it.”

Dean was back on the road and driving before he even had a destination, his eyes darting between the asphalt and Sam as he waited for an answer.

“Anything?”

Shaking his head, Sam pulled the phone a away from his ear, flinching when Dean let out a string of curses. “Damn it, here-“ taking a hand off the wheel he fished his own phone out, tossing it across the seat towards his brother. “Try mine.”

The hunter waited in agonizing silence for another minute or so before Sam shook his head once more. “Nothing again.”

It took everything in Dean not to hit his head against the steering wheel in frustration in that moment. He needed to know that you were safe. That you were still alive and well. “Fuck- okay. Um, try calling Jody. She might know where she is.”

You and Dean were complicated to say the least. The two of you had crossed paths and become friends a lifetime ago and nothing had ever been the same since. It was easy to see by anyone that You and Dean had feelings for each other, but even after years of friendship neither of you had ever truly acted on it. Sure there were the knowing glances and smiles, and the occasional instance where the two of you found your fingers tangled together, but that was it. No more. No less. Probably because internally you both knew that this life wasn’t made for romance.

But that didn’t stop Dean from loving you. Not at all.

Dean focused his eyes back on the paint strips in the center of the road, trying to ease himself. It wasn't unusual for you to go radio silent for weeks on end. You had a busy schedule, never quite standing still enough to catch a breath before rushing off on another case, but with everything happening, Dean was worried.

Dean considered you to be a wild, energetic type. You were the type that loved diving head first into anything you found interesting. Sometimes you decided to learn a new language just for the hell of it or pick up a random hobby like archery. There was something about moving that you had always loved. You were drawn towards instability the way magma's drawn through cracks in the earth. Even when you were younger, you had had a quality that sucked people in, made people flock to you as if you were some emissary from the land of glamour. (Dean knew that truth though, you like most hunters came from a shrinky dink town in the middle of nowhere USA. . . The farthest thing from glamour.) Dean remembered when they had first found the bunker and offered you to stay with them. You had hissed a little through your teeth, before politely declining. Sure, you stopped in every once in awhile and stayed a week or two but never longer.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean watched as Sam talked softly to Jody on the phone, his brother letting out light hums and nods as he jotted some stuff down on the back of an old fast food napkin. A moment later he was thanking the sheriff and hanging up.

“She got anything?”

“Kind of. She says she hasn’t heard from her in a few weeks either, but last time she checked Y/N was hunkered down in some place outside of Fairhope, Alabama. She had been working a rugaru case but that was the last she heard of her.” Sam explained with a light shrug.

“Okay, alright.” Dean nodded, glancing back over at his brother. “What do you have written down?”

“An address. Jody said if we go looking for her to start here. She thinks this is where she was staying.”

Leaning slightly over, he read the messy scribbles on the napkin before nodding and looking at the clock. “Alright, if I gun I think I can get us there by evening tomorrow.”

His brother gave him a solid nod before plugging the coordinates into his phones GPS, and giving him the first set of directions. The only thoughts running the older Winchesters head being please be alive. You need to be alive. Because if the British men of letters found you and did something to you, he would never forgive himself.

*. *. *. *. *. *. *.

Dean managed to hit it spot on because a day and a half later he and Sam were quickly lurching to a stop at the end of an old dirt driveway as dusk began to settle. The sky turning to a deep shade of blue as the sun went down, taking the dusty pinks and oranges of the sunset with it. The first fireflies could be seen through the trees, and Just beyond the house, the grass sloped down to the calm waters of the Mobile bay.

The tires crunched loudly against the gravel before Dean slammed the breaks and threw the impala into park, practically vaulting out of the vehicle at the sight of your car.

“Y/N!”

For the past several hours fear had begun its agonizing and chilling climb up Deans spine and now that he was finally at the end of the GPS route he was terrified of what he might find.

No answer.

Dean was frantic as he and Sam bolted up the steps of the massive front porch, throwing open the old screen door probably with enough force that it should have been pulled from its hinges. “Y/N, Dammit!”

luckily the open layout of the house was easy to navigate and Dean quickly found no signs of forced entry or a struggle. All your stuff was still here though, he recognized your backpack and laptop along with one of your canvas jackets.

That’s when he saw the flicker of firelight just beyond the window, music seeping through a partially open one. Quickly pushing past Sam he kicked open the back door and rushed out.

unfortunately the sound scared the hell out of you and you were falling out of your hammock, hand flying to your chest as if to stave off a heart attack.

“What the fuck?!’

“Y/N!” Instant relief rushed over Dean at the sight of you unscathed before him, sitting startled in the grass, the firelight from the pit giving you a sort of glow. . . but that feeling was quickly ripped away and replaced by anger as he clenched his jaw and walked closer. “What the hell Y/N?! You ever heard of picking up a damn phone?!”

On top of being startled to death you now had to add confusion, your eyebrows raising as you pushed yourself off the ground and crossed your arms, watching as the elder brother stormed across the grass, Sam slowly following behind.

“Excuse me?”

“Both Sam and I have been trying to call you! The least you could do is call us back if you don’t pick up originally!”

Holding a hand up in defense you stared down the jade eyed hunter. As surprised as you were to see him, you were beyond confused at his rage. “Woah, calm the fuck down. What the hell crawled up your ass?”

“Do you have any idea what’s been going on these past few days?!”

You gave him one of your famous are you kidding me looks before moving down a step. “I’m sitting in a hammock and drinking, Dean. Does it look like I fuckin know?”

“I was afraid you were dead!”

“Well clearly-“ you gestured time yourself. “I am not, now you mind calming down and telling me what’s going on and how the hell you found me?”

Deans jaw clenched before he sharply inhaled through his nose, whipping around to look at his brother as if saying “can you believe this woman?” As much as he loved you, you could be infuriating at times.

“Only if you tell me why the hell your playing house in some small ass southern town!”

“Fine, fine.”you nodded, raising your hands in defeat. A moment passed before Dean let his shoulders fall and walked closer, only to sink down onto one of the wooden seats of the picinic table, Sam close behind. Leaning against the trunk of the tree besides you, you let an uncomfortable silence fall between you and Dean as he looked around at the surroundings, Sam unfortunately caught in the middle of it.

“Sorry, Y/N. I have no idea why he’s in such a mood.” Sam tried.

“It’s fine, Sam. It’s not like I haven’t dealt with an angry Dean before.” You gave him a small smile before reaching for your glass of peach whiskey.

“Really, Alabama? Alabama?” Looking back towards you, Dean gave you weird look as if judging your taste.

“What? I like the humidity. Plus, this place is quiet.” You shrugged. “Now please fill me in on why you felt the need to track me down and check in on me, because dudes, you’ve never once done that before.”

The two shared a look before Sam let out a sigh, crossing his hands as he rested his elbows on his knees. “It’s the British men of letters.”

“Oh fantastic, what do those tea sipping idiots want now?”

“It’s not what they want, it’s what they’re doing.”

Another wave of silence.

“Okayyy. You care to elaborate?”

“They’re killing off American hunters. Hunters with years of experience under their belt. They’ve already killed Eileen, and we think they might have mom.” Dean explained.

“Shit.” You paused, finding the proper words hard to find. “I’m sorry.” You shook your head, suddenly feeling extremely guilty for not keeping in touch. “And you thought-“

“They were gonna come for you next. Yeah.”

“I should have called you guys when my phone broke a few weeks ago just to inform you that you wouldn't be able to reach me that way anymore. I’m really sorry.”

Dean looked like he was on the verge of another fit but luckily Sam caught it and stepped in before anything could escalate. “It’s fine Y/N. What matters is that your safe.”

“I know, I know. I just- I feel bad. You guys are welcome to spend the night here instead of in some cheap motel room, and tomorrow If you want I can help you guys figure this shit out. Get coordinated. It’s the least I can do to make up for being a shitty friend and making you guys worry.”

“If you have enough room we’ll gladly take you up in that offer.” Sam smiled, rising from the bench before pulling you into a hug. “How’d you even come by this place?”

“One of my families old hunting safe houses.” You shrugged, pulling away. “And don’t worry about room. There’s a bedroom and a pullout sofa in the sun room to the back of the house. Perfect amount of space for two grown ass men.”

“Oh no, we’re not taking up your space like that. I can sleep on the floor.” Dean shook his head as he now stood in front of you, the anger and annoyance seemingly gone. (Dean never could stay angry at you for long.)

“Dee, it’s fine. Really. I usually fall asleep in the hammock anyways. I find it more relaxing than any memory foam mattress.”

“Seriously?”

“yeah, seriously.” You shrugged with a light grin. Dean let out a soft chuckle before the two of you fell into silence once more. This time finding it to be acomfort. You both watched as Sam walked back around the side of the house, no doubt heading back to the car for their bags.

“I’m sorry for getting angry earlier. I was jsut super worried-“

“I know, I get it. It’s not the first time you’ve done that.”

You observed as Dean looked down at his hands, the hunter clearly ashamed of his earlier actions. Somewhere in the grass crickets began chirping, a bullfrog adding into the sound every once in awhile. As you watched him you could see the bags under his eyes, the heavy slump of his shoulders. Your usually vibrant Dean wasn't shining like usual.

A deep sigh left your lungs as you found your hand moving to cup the side of his face, his head lifting just enough to see the sad smile on your lips. “You look tired Mo ghraidh.”

Dean let out a soft chuckle at the words (even if after years he had yet to figure out what they meant. Once again, you and your eagerness to learn random languages), his eyes crinkled as he returned the same smile, leaning into your touch. “Oh I am tired.”

“You've been busy.”

“that's a fucking understatement.”

“Well,” You sighed, lightly patting his cheek before leaning in to press a kiss to where your palm had been. “You can tell me all about if over breakfast tomorrow, and then you can get my rundown.”

“sounds like a deal.” He swallowed, almost losing his words as he took you in. The firelight dancing across your skin and making your eyes blaze to life. God, you were beautiful. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Dee.” Your smile slowly grew as you pulled him into a tight hug, feeling him bury his face in your neck. Hugs like this felt like home. It felt peaceful and calm. . .something you hadn't been in a very long time.

*. *. *. *. *. *.

Dean woke slowly the next morning, the house eerily silent as he threw back the sheets. Either you and Sam were stealth artists in the morning or he’d slept like the dead. The sunlight made the hunter squint as he trudged tiredly towards the kitchen, his eyes not used to seeing sunlight in the mornings after getting so used to a dark bunker. Sam was seated at the kitchen counter, an empty bowl of cereal next to him as he spoke softly to someone on the phone, probably Jody or Donna.

“Morning.”

“Morning.” Sam slightly lifted the phone from his ear. “Y/N poured you coffee. It’s on the table.”

Mumbling a tired thanks, Dean used the heel of his hand to rub at his eyes, yawning as he moved passed Sam to wrap his hand around the mug you had left. It was only when he was sinking down into one of the vacant seats did he let his eyes search the room for you. It was easy to see that you weren’t there though. The only occupants in the house being him and his brother. Slowly sipping on the coffee in his hands he waited patiently for Sam to finish the call. When he hung up he finally allowed himself to speak.

“You seen Y/N this morning?”

“Yeah, I think she’s out back.” Sam grinned over the lip of his own mug as he watched Dean turn his head to look out the back windows. “Surprised the two of you weren’t snuggled up last night with each other.”

“Stop it.” Dean warned, turning again this time to glare at his brother.

“What? Isn’t that how it is?”

“No! And you know it. And don’t give me the whole but so many people can see it crap. You know this lifestyle aint built for romance . . .or whatever.” he muttered the last words before suddenly pushing himself up from his seat once again and heading towards the back door, coffee still in hand. Eager to leave the conversation behind.

in truth Dean wanted nothing more to be with you, Truly be with you. To hold you like you were meant to be held. To tell you he loved you. To drown you in kisses. But this life wasn't built for it. You both knew that, that was why you didn't make any bold moves towards each other. Arms length away meant safety and safety meant living.

In the morning light it was much easier to take in the surroundings, the steps to the back porch ended at the grass before the partially overgrown lawn went down to the waters edge, a weather worn dock leading out onto the blue waters. It took him a moment for his eyes to find you but when he does hes almost taken back. Your laying on the dock, one foot tangling over the water while the other was tucked up, your sunglasses perched on your nose as you hold an open book above you, clearly reading.

It’s a sight to say the least. You look calm. Content even. And that’s a very rare thing to see on you. For as long as Dean has known you, you have always been a person in motion, always busy with something, wether that be pacing the bunkers library nose deep in a lore book or swinging a machete at vamps. It’s a foreign sight to see you doing something that doesn’t involve monsters in any aspect. He pauses for a moment where the grass ends and the dock begins before stepping out onto it, the light creak making you look up from your book as he walked towards you.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Sam told me I would find you out here. You get up early?”

“I’m always up early. You know that.” You smiled, closing your book and dropping it onto your chest. “I’m surprised your up. You looked tired last night.”

“Yeah, well. My sleep schedules kinda fucked already.” Dean sighed, crossing his arms before deciding to sit down next to you.

“You look grumpy. What happened?”

“Sam happened. It’s nothing.”

Swinging your other leg back onto the dock you slowly sat up. “Doesn’t sound like nothing. You wanna talk about it?”

“Oh ho, no way.” He shook his head, leaning back on his palms and tilting his head up towards the sun. 

“Well alright, fine.” You shrugged, You knew when it was a good time to prod and when it wasn't. This was one of the latter.

“What are you doing out here anyways?”

“Reading, what does it look like?” you quipped, popping to your feet before bending down to pick up your book. “plus, I need the sun. Hunters tend to get pale when they only work in the dark.”

“maybe i should lay out her then.”

That got a laugh out of you.

“What?”

“Dude, you lay out here for an hour and its gonna look like you got bitch slapped by the sun. . .no offense.” You joked, holding out a hand to hoist him up.

“Nah, you're probably right.”

“I would pay good money to see that though.”

“You're such an asshole.”

“I know.” giving him a pat on the shoulder you began walking back towards the house, the hunter watching you closely as you retreated.

There was something different out you. The way you carried yourself and the way you spoke. Most people wouldn't catch on but he did. Something was off. He could practically feel it radiating off of you in waves, even if you were acting like everything was normal. You were acting uncommonly lighthearted.

“You said last night you were gonna tell me why you're all the way out here in some small town USA. Care to fill me in?” He suddenly spoke, following you off the dock.

There was silence for a moment, almost as if he caught you off guard. “I told you, it’s a family safe house. I was staying here while hunting the rugaru. Just needed a week to rest up before I headed out again.” You shrugged.

A week to rest up? When Sam has talked to Jody she had said you had been out here for almost five. His eyes narrowed slightly as he watched you walk up the back steps. There was something else you weren’t telling him.

“You found a new case yet?”

“Oh uh. . . No. No I haven’t.” Shaking your head casually before holding the door open for Dean and stepping inside.

There was his second hint that something was up. You were the type of hunter that was always on their toes, looking for the next case before one was wrapped up. Dean didn’t know how you did it. Sure he could do some cases back to back, but he needed breaks every once and awhile.

“Rugaru case must have whipped your ass, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure did.” You mumble.

Dean opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut off when you beat him to it. “Let’s get to work on figuring out how to handle these British bastards, okay?” You gave Dean one of your soft smiles, running a hand through his hair as you passed by and entered the kitchen.

Watching you go, Dean felt a new sense of worry grow in his chest. You weren’t acting like you. Something was eating at you, and the thought of you being in pain broke his heart.

SPN Taglist:

@familybusinesswritingbro​@a–1–1–3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @music-is-all-i-need @agusdoti​ @callmekda​ @jordangdelacruz​ @orphiceseum​ @andthatsmyworld​ @marvelfangirllll @fandomnerdespressourself @gladiosamicitias @castielsangelsx @lxstgxrl-ck @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit @amendoise @phoenixuprisingsstuff @ericalynne007 @kaitlaitlaitl  @totallyluciferr @supernaturalenchanted @dolanfivsosxox@supernatural-ocs @emptycanvasposts @akshi8278 @defenderrosetyler @heyyy-hey-babyyy @idksupernatural @vicmc624 @all-will-be-well-love@busy-bee-angel-misska @starsandmidnightblue @lilulo-12fanfiction @beanie-beebo @xoxoaudreymarie @greenarrowhead @mrsjenniferwinchester  @mysticalfuncollectorus @brebolin @biahblue @noahandthegiraffe @hhiggs

[benichi]

I played Chou no Doku (so you don’t have to) - Majima’s Route

If you haven’t yet I’d recommend to read my [True Route] post before since it makes this route a lot easier to understand and interesting in my opinion. Majima actually has 2 Routes. This is the one which you can get halfway through the story - while the other is basically a parallel universe that splits right at the beginning. Small warning that this post mentions topics like r*pe and s*icide.

After the date with Shiba Yuriko decides to visit Majima since he promised to make her some tea. On the way she laments the loss of her Father. This part is actually pretty sad.

She gets ripped out her thoughts in a very unfortunate way however, a man attacks her from behind, gr*ping her body. Luckily Majima intervenes before anything worse can happen. After he realizes what just occured he decides to take her to his room. He apologizes for not noticing that a stranger had entered the garden and ends up embracing Yuriko

Viva la scent fetish.

She reassures him that it was her own fault for carelessly running around while it’s dark. She states that just being embraced by Majima is enough to partially disparse the terrible experience she just had. He once again vows that he won’t let strangers near the Manor anymore and to stick by her side from now.

Afterwards follow the event of Yuriko being invited to Lady Kyoko’s Party. She doesn’t want to go however, because Majima has indeed been sticking by her side since the incident and she’d rather be with him. As usual he’s by the garden, tending the flowers.

~Something~

They end up going to Majima’s room where he serves her tea as usual.

Tbh hearing Majima call Mizuhito “Master” after he cussed him out in his route made me laugh.

Yuriko explains that her Brother went to Lady Kyoko’s Party which leads to Majima asking if she’s frightened due to what happened - particularly if she’s scared of men.

Choices before disaster. As per usual with these scenes Majima starts the “but I’m a man too u know” talk. Which of course leads to the usual “but you’re different” talk from her side.

Don’t say the “F” word in front of him plz. Majima ends up getting mad, stating that the Princess is too good at “getting under men’s skin”. He eventually calms down and apologizes, but Yuriko decides to return to the Manor. Afterwards follow the events of her Mothers death.

A few days later... Looking back on the recent tragedy Yuriko remembers that her Mother muttered something while passing. She figures that she might be able to solve the mystery of what has been happening to her family by going through her old stuff at the Storehouse. Due to what happened she decides to go on her own instead of depending on Majima. Armed with a dagger that once belonged to her Mother Yuriko is on her way.

After being unsuccessful and nighttime settling in Yuriko decides to head back. However, she is once again attacked by that man from a few nights ago. She desperately tries to fight back but doesn’t stand a chance against such a force. Unconsciously and frustrated by all of the misfortune that has been happening to her Yuriko ends up stabbing her perpetrator, who dies after taking a few ragged breaths.

Majima’s voice can be heard from outside, after entering the Storehouse he’s surprised to find Saburo (the family’s sleazy Servant for those who don’t remember) lifeless on the ground. After Yuriko shrieks he becomes aware of her presence, noticing the bloody dagger in her hands. Shocked she doesn’t seem to realize what has happened. But once realization hits she starts shifting the blame away from herself (this is actually something Yuriko does very often throughout each route which I don’t particularly like about her)

She finishes by stating that Majima hates her, to which he replies that that’s not what he meant that day. To calm her down he...

SWEET HOME ALABAMA... also sweat scent ew.

After she has calmed down Majima apologizes, since if not for the misunderstanding the other day this wouldn’t have happened. After fully understanding the situation Yuriko says that she should turn herself in to the police. Majima has another solution however...

He be showing some of his true colors here.

They decide to go through with the plan and bury Saburo in the garden. The following days Yuriko is on edge, going through countless scenarios of Saburo being found in her head. She’s also worried about her Brother Mizuhito (I feel like i have to point out which Brother now lol) who hasn’t been home for several days. Fujita visits her and states that he wants to investigate about Mizuhito’s whereabouts and also claims that someone saw a man that looked similar to Saburo. Freaked out she runs to Majima, telling him about what she’s just heard.

This is getting some “ I Know What You Did Last Summer ” vibes

He states that Fujita will collapse soon from all the running around he’s doing and what they were to do if he would also disappear. Yuriko remarks that Majima has been acting odd, almost cold every since that incident. She apologizes for the situation he’s in now due to her actions.

Majima becomes slightly irritated (probably assuming that Yuriko may have figured out that Majima is the mastermind behind everything) but she explains that he’s basically an accomplice now due to her.

He scary.

Unsurprisingly Fujita also ends up disappearing. As Yuriko is desperately waiting by the door for his return a distraught Hideo visits her instead. He informs her that Mizuhito’s body has been found - he’s apparently commited s*icide with one of his s*xual partners. Shocked Yuriko breaks down and ends up fainting...

Someones having a field day over there. But this part is actually quite interesting and explains a lot about Majima as a Character and what happened in his past - so I decided to include as much as I can.

He’s kinkshaming now. I’ll put the rest of his monologue into parenthesis so that I can include more. (”For instance, the heart that leads one to bury the past and have a family, all the while looking like a sinless saint” - about Yuriko’s Father) (”The child knew nothing. He was raised with love, to be a healthy boy. But one day a man barged into the child house, slaughtering - in front of the child - a Maid and her husband who had raised him as their own. He hurt the child too, nearly killing him. But by some miracle he survived. He crawled in the dirt, living for revenge. He decided to take his time to mingle with the dirty beings in the Manor... all for the sake of plunging them into oblivion along with fear.” - about what happened when Yuriko’s Father found out about Shigeko’s incestious relationship and child, Majima.)

After this rather interesting monologue we’re back to Yuriko. She’s the only one left of the Nomiya family now. She says that even Shiba stopped visiting her which, it’s never stated but we can assume, like everything else was done by Majima. Her relatives tell Yuriko to sell the Manor, which she can’t do however since Majima did not only bury Saburo’s body. He’s mutilated it and buried the parts all over the place. What a sweetheart.

We get a romantic scene of Majima punishing Yuriko for “not waking up earlier” and find out that she’s has apparently been selling her body to pay for the Manor. After a bit of back and forth between the two Majima states that he likes the “Princess”, which she returns. Is it just me or has it been way too long since the last time we’ve talked about someone’s scent? Well luckily the game is here to remedy that.

She claims that only Majima can fill her void and that the both of them should stay in the Manor together - forever. She nods to his words since obeying him is the only thing she can do now.

Same. They start to frick frack and this route ends with...

That escalated quickly. An interesting but not necessarily pleasant route. Also for those who are wondering as to why he’s calling Yuriko “pure” here (because I initially sure was, especially after his monologue) he basically sees her as pure so long as she’s unaware of the things that happened in the past. So while in theory she should be “filthy” in his eyes because she’s in love with her sibling by his logic that get’s cancelled out due to the fact that Yuriko never discovered what happened in the past. Or something like that.

[charlestrask]

56, 67, 92

hi jayde <333

56. most used word

i cant say i know anymore but i can tell you that when i was in elementary school apparently i said technically so much that i once left the classroom and heard boys try to make fun of me by calling me the technically girl. so theres that

67. can you name all 50 states of america

i THINK i can now... i definitely could not when i was in elementary middle school. actually wait im gonna go take one of those tests rn and find out. one sec. okay i failed so here are the ones that i forgot: montana, wyoming, minnesota, nebraska, iowa (especially embarassing since ive been to iowa), missouri, arkansas, alabama, ohio, and rhode island.

92. have you already thought of baby names and if so what are they?

i HAVEN'T im very unimaginative when it comes to names. gilda is cute.

[marveldeliversusps]

Prompt: New Hobby

Thanks for the prompt and political advocacy, @queenoftherandomword​! Hope you like it!

Prompt: Looks like somone has a new hobby

Pairing: Stucky, shrunkyclunks, background Sam/Nat

Rating: M

Art by @inflomora-art​. I’m obsessed with this pic. 

Steve heard a knock and rushed to the door. It was around three PM and his postal worker, Bucky, would be dropping off the mail soon. On days when he wasn’t too busy, Bucky would stick around and chat with Steve for a few minutes. Those were the best days.

Mailman Bucky was beyond hot. He had a cleft chin with a bit of softness under it, wrinkles from smiling and sparkling grey eyes. He was so beautiful he even made the dumb postal worker hat look good.

When Steve pulled the door open, he found Natasha standing there expectantly. He tried to close the door but she put her foot inside the house. He set his shoulder against the door so she could push her way in.

“Nice to see you, Steve.”

Steve took a steadying breath in. He loved Natasha and looked forward to being around her. Since he’d retired from the superhero business and given the shield to Sam, time with Nat had been in short supply. However, she was perceptive and insatiably curious. If she was around when Bucky arrived, she’d sniff out Steve’s secret crush right away. Or find the numerous unopened boxes in his bedroom that he didn’t want to explain.

“Natasha,” he said.

“That’s all?”

Steve held tight onto the door. A moment of confusion or indecision would be just enough for her to elbow her way inside. This is why he needed more non-spy friends.

“Nice to see you, as always.”

Natasha rolled her eyes so dramatically her eyelashes fluttered. “What you mean to say is I’m sorry that I stood you and Sam up for our lunch date at Hot Lips pizza today, and that you two had to wait for forty-five minutes, and I can’t believe I didn’t respond to your text messages.”

Steve closed his eyes in embarrassment. “I totally forgot. I’m sorry, Nat.”

“It’s alright, Steve,” Natasha said, brushing non-existent lint from Steve’s shoulder. “I know you have other commitments. Maybe we could hang out now?”

Steve did want to spend time with her, just not for another hour when there was no risk of her meeting Bucky. Since getting together, Sam and Natasha were both happier, more fluid and less locked into decades-long patterns, but it certainly made Steve’s life more difficult. Their attempts at teasing him or caretaking were coordinated and ruthless. Loving, but ruthless.

“Now’s not a good time,” Steve said. “How about Friday you and Sam come over for a movie night?”

Natasha smiled sweetly, all her deadly angles covered by softness. She squeezed Steve’s hand gently, then dug her fingers into his wrist, making him yelp and stumble backward. As soon as Steve faltered, she charged inside and started looking around the living room. When Steve subtly positioned himself between her and the stairs to his bedroom, Natasha clocked his actions immediately. She slipped past his outstretched hands and hustled upstairs.

“Goddammit, Nat!”

Once she entered Steve’s bedroom, Natasha stopped abruptly and looked at all the unopened boxes lining the walls. “Huh.”

Steve nearly slammed into her back in his rush to beat her to the bedroom and had to grab onto the doorframe to stop himself. Natasha tilted her head to the side as if she was trying to solve a puzzle.

“What were you expecting?” Steve said.

Natasha’s brows furrowed. “I don’t know. A hot man or woman. A sex dungeon. Porn. Not a million boxes from…” she picked one up and squinted at it. “REI? What the hell, Steve?”

Steve opened and closed his mouth, not quite ready to tell the truth. The first package had been an actual order, a new pair of running shoes from an outdoor store he discovered. But then when Bucky had delivered them, REI (Recreation Equipment Inc) was apparently his favorite store, and it had given them something to chat about.

Steve had taken to buying gear from there once a week and planned his schedule to be home with the packages arrived, just so he could talk with Bucky. He’d even been working up the courage to suggest a hike together.

“I checked all the rooms downstairs,” Sam said out of nowhere.

Steve’s shoulders slumped. Of course, Sam and Natasha would be working together. They never went on ops alone anymore. Not since she was captured by AIM, and Sam leveled three blocks of downtown Mobile, Alabama to save her.

Steve should have never suggested Nat ask Sam out. Or introduced them. Or joined the Avengers.  

“Nice to see you,” Steve quipped.

Sam winked at him, the cheeky asshole. He knew Steve couldn’t stay mad at him long. “Not my fault,” Sam said, as he walked into the room. “You ditched us. And if you had just told Tasha what you were hiding--”

“I can have secrets,” Steve said petulantly.

Meanwhile, Natasha was walking around the room and shaking boxes. They all had the REI logo on the side: Sustainable Gear Built to Last. She retrieved a knife from her boot, ripped open a box and pulled out a 9.8mm Dry-Core climbing rope. It was bright yellow with red x’s on it, and Steve had picked it because he liked the design. “Is this for an outside sex dungeon?”

“Stop thinking everything is about sex!” Steve snapped. Sam raised an eyebrow at him, and Steve immediately felt bad. Before he could apologize to Natasha, she waived him off. Sam sat down on Steve’s bed and pulled out his own knife. He never used to have a million knives on him, probably Natasha’s influence.

“Do people know Captain America sneaks into people’s houses with knives?” Steve said.

Sam shrugged and carefully opened a package. “People don’t know a damn thing about me I don’t want them to know, because my girlfriend is a badass.”

A paranoid badass, Steve thought. But he had the self-preservation to keep that to himself.

Sam pulled out a Lavender Harness with yellow daisies stitched to the side. “Petzl Luna Harness,” he read off the side. “Steve, this is a woman’s harness.”

Steve crossed his arms, because he had aced his Women’s Studies class, thank you very much. “All the harnesses for women were pink and had flowers on them, and I thought that was very gender essentialist of them, so I bought it for myself in protest.”

“I’m sure they heard you loud and clear,” Sam said dryly.

They slowly unpacked all of Steve’s packages: another harness, two more ropes, a crash pad, carabiners, and several metal things Steve didn’t know the name of. After each item, Natasha looked at Steve expectantly, and he steadily denied that it was for a sex dungeon.

Next came a Marmot 1 person tent, that Steve would have to curl up in sideways to fit, a backpack, and a head lamp. He had more things he needed, but he wanted to spread the orders out.

“Why didn’t you open any of this stuff?” Sam said.

Exhausted with their questions, Steve flopped dramatically onto the floor, and he didn’t need to look up to know Sam and Natasha were doing synchronized eye rolls. “I don’t know how to use it yet!” Most of it he’d selected because he liked the colors or the philosophy of the companies. He had no idea if all the gear even all worked together. “It’s outdoor gear because my mailman likes to rock climb, and he’s hot, and I want to climb him like a tree.”

Natasha grinned triumphantly, and proclaimed, “So this is about sex!”

Steve didn’t respond, just slowly banged his head on the floor. Maybe if he blacked out they would leave him alone.

“Well, well,” Sam said.

“Don’t do that,” Steve snapped.  

“Looks like someone has a new hobby.”

Natasha leaned against Sam and giggled. It was so damn cute that Steve couldn’t decide if he wanted to wrap them in Christmas paper or throw them outside.

He almost missed the knock at the door.

“Steve,” Bucky called in. “Your door was left open. Just wanted to make sure everything’s okay.”

Steve shot an annoyed look at Sam who grinned unrepentantly. “Barton’s watching the entrance.” Steve should've guessed that, too. He half expected them to turn into a throuple any day now.

Natasha ignored them again, moving lightning fast to charge downstairs.

“Steve,” Bucky called again. “Hi,” he said, presumably when he saw Natasha. “Just checking in. I have a package for Steve.”

“I’m sure you do,” Natasha said meaningfully as she took the box from Bucky.

Steve made a racket in his haste to prevent Natasha from saying anything more embarrassing and landed at the door framing breathing heavily with a wild look in his eyes. Natasha, naturally, looked calm and composed.

“You must be Bucky,” Natasha said, extending her dainty hand. “Steve can’t stop talking about you.”

Steve’s cheeks immediately flamed hot, and the only saving grace was that Bucky’s cheeks pinked up adorably, too.

“Oh.” Bucky didn't elaborate further even though Steve really, really wanted him to. Was that a good oh or a bad oh? An oh or an /oh/?

Before Steve could follow up, Sam came up behind him and clapped an arm on his shoulder.

“Captain America!” Bucky exclaimed when he saw Sam. Oh no, no no no no, Steve thought. “You’re my hero! I mean, I’m an adult so not like hero hero, but it’s. Whew. It’s an honor.”

Sam grinned that warm, gap toothed smile that made old ladies weak in the knees, and he shook Bucky’s hand. “Nice to meet you. Did you serve?”

Bucky nodded, shrugging his shoulders shyly. “Yeah, two tours and all that, and you know, the post office is the number one employer of vets, so I’m here doing this. Helps to have the arm.” He pointed at his black and gold prosthetic.  Thanks for promoting that program by the way.”

Steve didn’t pout, but his inner toddler was stamping his foot. He only got a few minutes to talk to Bucky each week, and Sam was hogging all his time.

Natasha had magicked some popcorn out of nowhere, there hadn’t been any in Steve’s cupboard, and was obnoxiously monching it and watching the three of them. Knowing her, she’d probably known all of this was going to happen and brought the popcorn along as a prop.

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Bucky said to Sam, “but could I get a picture?”

Sam nodded, turning to Steve with a shit eating grin. “Steve, would you mind taking a pic of us?”

Steve took Bucky’s camera. He stepped on Sam’s foot while he arranged them for the photo, because he had called dibs on Bucky, and Sam already had Natasha. “You know . . . I’ve been retired for a while.” Because if Sam could play the Captain America card, so could he. Bucky had never brought it up, so perhaps he hadn’t recognized him.

Bucky smiled softly. “I know, Steve.”

Oh, well. That was a different thing entirely. Bucky had known who Steve was all along and had never made him feel uncomfortable about it. Steve smiled back at him and took the picture.

Once they were done, Natasha leaned toward Bucky. “Tell me, Bucky, how long have you and Steve been getting to know one another.”

Steve was 100% sure that was her code for sex dungeon activities, which, what in the hell did she and Sam get up to in their free time? Nevermind, he didn’t want to know.

They didn’t call Steve the greatest strategist of his time for nothing. He subtly scooted over, forcing Natasha to lean back.

“We’ve only recently become friends,” Steve said. The blood rushed to his cheeks again when he realized what he’d said. Bucky probably had to be friendly with everyone while he was working, that didn’t mean he and Steve were friends. “I mean, I think we are.”

The sides of Bucky’s eyes crinkled adorably as he grinned. “Yeah, we’re friends, Steve.” He paused and glanced at Sam and Natasha before settling back on Steve. “Actually,” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, making his terrible round hat fall forward. He righted it quickly and said, “I was wondering if you’d like to go climbing this Saturday. I could show you the cool spots with not too many people, and--”

“Steve doesn’t know how to climb,” Natasha said around another mouthful of popcorn. “You should take me and Sam along to teach him. And Clint, too. Maybe Tony would want to come.”

By the grace of all that was good and holy, Sam had mercy and pulled Natasha away from the door whispering, “Stop cockblocking my best friend.”

Once Nat and Sam were out of earshot, Steve met Bucky’s eyes and grimaced. “I was looking for new hobbies, and when I ordered shoes you brought up climbing, and like an idiot I said I liked it too. because you are so handsome, and my brain turned into mush, and then I just didn’t want to stop talking to you.”

“I know,” Bucky said interrupting Steve’s rambling. His eyes sparkled as he grinned. “You once called a grigri a carabiner.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Exactly.” Bucky stepped closer, his expression turning mischievous. Steve could never, ever let him and Natasha become friends. “Wanna go on a date with me?” He was so close now, Steve could pick out the flecks of silver and black in his grey eyes.

Steve got lost staring until he realized Bucky had been waiting too long for a response. He didn’t seem to mind, his smile only getting wider.

“I really do want to learn to rock climb,” Steve blurted out to stop himself from saying something ridiculous like, please fuck me in your uniform.

Bucky tilted his chin back and laughed, mesmerizing Steve with the movement of his throat.

“How about we do both?” Bucky said, laughter dying down as he scooted closer.

Steve leaned down and said, “I’d like that,” against Bucky’s lips, the moment before they kissed. Distantly, he heard the sounds of Natasha and Sam cheering, but he blocked them out in favor of gripping Bucky’s hip and pulling their bodies flush against one another.

“The man has to work,” Sam called out. “Don’t get freaky and delay the mail.”

Bucky pulled back and patted Steve’s shoulder. “See you soon, Stevie.”

After he left, Steve collapsed on the couch next to Sam, heady with the experience, until a sudden realization left him cold.

“I forgot to get his number.”

Sam waved him off, and pointed at the kitchen where Nat was rifling through Steve’s cabinets. “Don’t worry. Tasha has it already.”

Steve groaned. Of course she did. And if by some chance she didn’t, Steve could always order another box from REI.

---

Learn more about Marvel Delivers USPS here! 

[tomcat-acaphe]

CPR Masterpost

Roughly 54% of Americans know CPR. That is shockingly low.

So, for those who don’t know, only half know, need a reminder or think they know but don’t, let ya boy educate you.

Pre-Physical CPR: Remember DRS (Doctors!)!

D: Danger. Is there danger nearby? Oftentimes people go into cardiac arrest due to, say for example, touching an electric fence and getting electrocuted. Following on from that example, are they still attached to the electric fence? Is the patient still in danger? If they’re in danger, leave them and don’t do CPR. Still call an ambulance though.

R: Response. Shake em, shout at em, call their name, anything! If they respond with words, don’t do CPR. They’re probably just out of it.

S: Shout for help. You’ll ideally want as many people who can do CPR around as possible. ALSO, CALL AN AMBULANCE.

Physical CPR: Remember ABC.

A: Airway. Lay their head back and open their mouth. Make sure the airway is clear.

B: Breathing. If they aren’t breathing, they’re in danger. Lay your head down on its side near their cheek. Use your eyes to also look if their chest is moving up and down. While doing that, if you can’t hear/feel the breath after ten seconds, they aren’t breathing.

Please note there is also a thing called Agonal breathing. If they’re gasping like a fish out of water or not breathing properly, THEY ARE DYING. It’s a brain reflex, they aren’t actually getting any oxygen.

C: Chest Compressions. Start 'em. Do them until you either physically can’t or the ambulance arrives. This is why shouting for help is important. Compressions are very exhausting and if you’re not physically fit you’ll tire quickly and need to alternate.

Extra Note:

Sometimes, if you’re really good and really lucky, the person may wake up. Often this is temporary. Still keep doing compressions. If they become verbal and tell you to, quote enquote ‘piss off, geroff me!’ There’s a good chance they’re alive now.

How To Do Compressions Properly:

Place the heel of the hand on the breast bone at the centre of the person’s chest. Place your other hand on top of your first hand and interlock your fingers.

Position yourself with your shoulders above your hands.

Using your body weight (not just your arms, trust me, if you just did your arms you’ll get very tired very fast,) press straight down by 5-6cm (2-2.5 inches) on their chest.

Keeping your hands on their chest, release the compression and allow the chest to return to its original position.

Repeat these compressions at a rate of 100-120 times in a minute until either: an ambulance, you get exhausted or you feel slightly tired and have a friend who can take over.

If all this is too complicated to remember, don’t worry. If you put your phone on speaker, the person on the other end will walk you through it in real time. If you can’t take away anything else from this, please take away this fact.

Misconceptions:

Q: Do I have to do mouth-to-mouth?

A: Nope! In fact, I’d advise against it. Mouth to mouth actually does little to help the patient and is arguably detrimental due to an exchange of germs. Just stick to chest compressions.

Q: Do I have to sing Nellie The Elephant?

A: Also nope! Any 100-120 BPM song is fine. There’ll be a list below.

Q: Am I pressing hard enough?

A: No. Unless you’re pressing 5-6cm or 2.5 inches down, you are not. It looks weird and wrong, but that’s because you’re literally acting as their heart for them. If you’re questioning if you’re pressing hard enough, you probably aren’t. If you think you are, push a little harder. It’s possible and very easy to not push hard enough, but there’s no such thing as too hard. Push them so hard they make a hole on the floor if you have to.

Q: Oh no! I heard a rib crack!

A: That’s good! Oftentimes, the ribs have to break in order for you to actually have any hope of successful CPR. Don’t stop because you heard a rib crack. There’s no such thing as pushing too hard. There is such a thing as not pushing enough. It’s better to have a friend alive with a few broken bones than your friend dead.

Q: The patient is a woman and I’m scared that if she wakes up she’ll sue me for touching her breasts. Should I risk it and perform CPR anyway?

A: Don’t worry. You’re protected by the Good Samaritan Law. I’m not a lawyer, so if any one who knows the law could possibly fact check me on this personally, but the Good Samaritan Law states:

“The Good Samaritan Law offers legal protection to people who give reasonable assistance to those who are, or whom they believe to be, injured, ill, in peril, or otherwise incapacitated.”

So even if the patient does wake up and your vital readings were wrong, the law should be on your side.

If you think someone needs CPR, don’t question the legal trouble it’ll get you in later. Just do it.

Q: Don’t I have to check for a pulse?

A: You could, but breathing is much more reliable. Locating a pulse can take a while. (Sometimes people can only feel it in their wrists, some people only feel it in their neck. There’s no one guaranteed location. Everyone is different. Unless you know that person extremely well and know their best pulse spots fir some reason, (I’m not judging your friendship,) chances are it’ll take at least 30 seconds to locate a spot. This is especially hard when someone doesn’t have a pulse.) Breathing, on the other hand, is much more reliable and quicker to do, (10 seconds check, let’s say you were slow and took 2 seconds positioning, that’s 12 seconds max.) Time management is extremely important during CPR and every second counts. I understand most American places recommend checking for a pulse, but everywhere in the UK, (including NHS.gov and the British Resuscitation Council (used by all nurses and doctors as gospel, pretty much unheard if outside of professionals apparently?) My mum also said so.

Songs that are 100-120 BPM to sing instead of Nellie The Elephant: (Feel Free to Add!)

Sweet Home Alabama (Lynyrd Skynyrd) (100bpm)

Tainted Love (Straight No Chaser) (100bpm)

Through The Fire And Flames (Dragonforce) (100bpm)

Breaking The Habit (Linkin Park) (100bpm)

This Ain’t A Scene, It’s An Arms Race (Fall Out Boy) (100bpm)

Dancing Queen (Abba) (100bpm)

Hips Don’t Lie (Shakira) (100bpm)

Gives You Hell (All American Rejects) (100bpm)

Icicles (The Scary Jokes) (100bpm)

Rock Your Body (Justin Timberlake) (101bpm)

Steppin’ Out (Joe Jackson) (101bpm)

Welcome To Tally Hall (Tally Hall) (101bpm)

Cecilia (Simon and Garfunkle) (102bpm)

Semi Charmed Life (Third Eye Blind) (102bpm)

99 Luftballons (DDR) (102bpm)

Stayin’ Alive (Bee Gees) (103bpm)

Stronger (Kanye West) (104bpm)

All Star (Smash Mouth) (104bpm)

Hard To Handle (The Black Crowes) (104bpm)

Rolling In The Deep (Adele) (105bpm)

Good Day (Tally Hall) (105bpm)

Are You Gonna Be My Girl (Jet) (105bpm)

Numb (Linkin Park) (107bpm)

Set Fire To The Rain (Adele) (108bpm)

Stronger (Britney Spears) (108bpm)

Eye Of The Tiger (Survivor) (109bpm)

Just The Way You Are (Bruno Mars) (109bpm)

Hollaback Girl (Gwen Stefani) (110bpm)

Another One Bites The Dust (Queen) (110bpm)

Till It’s Over (Tristam) (110bpm)

Grenade (Bruno Mars) (110bpm)

Never Gonna Give You Up (Rick Astley) (113bpm)

Under Pressure (Queen and David Bowie) (113bpm)

Banana Man (Tally Hall) (113bpm)

Two Trucks (Lemon Demon) (114bpm)

Uptown Funk (Mark Ronson and Bruno Mars) (115bpm)

What Doesn’t Kill You (Kelly Clarkson) (116bpm)

Once In A Lifetime (Talking Heads) (117bpm)

Call Me Maybe (Carly Rae Jepsen) (118bpm)

Don’t Stop Believing (Journey) (118bpm)

Bad Romance (Lady Gaga) (119bpm)

Just Dance (Lady Gaga) (119bpm)

Poker Face (Lady Gaga) (119bpm)

Tik Tok (Ke$ha) (120bpm)

Teenage Dream (Katy Perry) (120bpm)

DJ’s Got Us Falling In Love Again (Usher) (120bpm)

Revenge (Captain Sparklez) (120bpm)

If you want to check your favourite song is one you can use but it’s not here, go onto the website tunebat.com and type in the title. It will tell you the BPM and other fun facts like what key it’s in.

Sources:

http://www.nhs.uk/conditions/first-aid/cpr/

http://www.resus.org.uk

My Mum (Registered Band Six District Nurse (Going for Master’s Degree currently.)) (She read and fact checked this for me. Thanks, Mum!)

http://tunebat.com

My own knowledge having this drilled into me from a young age. (From sources above, especially ‘My Mum.’ You can’t find that website anymore.)

[jonasjacobsen]

Retro Chart Rants: Kid Rock- All Summer Long (1/10)

My feelings on Kid Rock are surprisingly complicated. He should be the easiest target in the world; after all, he's a lazy hack who simultaneously manages to ruin three genres at once and his brand of Jeff Foxworthy-meets-Fred Durst redneck trashiness is vomit-inducing and represents everything wrong with America (not to mention he supports Trump. I mean, not that I hate anyone I disagree with politically, but he's really extra about it, to the point where he comes off as your weird uncle who won't shut up about the deep state). That said, I do actually have a soft spot for his first album. As profoundly lame as they are, I can't help but get down to Cowboy and the one with the gibberish title. Hell, I even kind of like his auto-tune ballad "Only God Knows Why", which is a fitting title because only god knows why the phrase "auto-tune ballad" doesn't make me want to find every Kid Rock CD I can and bury them in the desert like Atari cartridges to spare future generations the horrors of late-stage Gen X. So, in some ways, I appreciate the fact that "All Summer Long" exists- it lets me finally hate a Kid Rock song with no reservations.

I remember the first time I heard this song like it was yesterday- it was about a decade ago now and me and my dad were driving back home from a 4th of July fireworks display. At first I thought they were playing "Sweet Home Alabama"- a reasonable assumption to make, given that Alabama is, indeed, a part of the United States. It caught me off guard when the piano riff from "Werewolves of London"; after all, London isn't part of the United States, unless you count London, Arkansas, but then that wouldn't be part of Alabama. I was so focused on this apparent geographical error that I didn't even recognize it was a Kid Rock song until halfway through. I'm sure a lot of people had similar experiences of thinking they were about to hear a good song and then being hit in the face with this nightmare of audio. Kid Rock has that uncanny ability to ruin multiple things at once in his music. You know, sampling is one of the coolest inventions in music history. Several artists have made an entire career out of nothing but recontextualizing other peoples music, such as DJ Shadow, Madlib, and The Avalanches. But that's the key- they're artists, and they recontextualize art. They don't just Ctrl+V popular songs because they can't be assed to make something interesting. This really is a Kid Rock song- by which I mean it's the kind of rock song a kid would make, where he thinks singing nonsense over a song that already exists makes him a rockstar and his parents encourage him because they don't want to stifle his imagination. I guess it made sense in 2000, where nu-metal was still big and every rock song followed the 'kid who just discovered curse words' formula, but by 2007, we had aged up to teen rock with MCR and Fall Out Boy. We should have been done with this guy, but the unwashed crevice of America filled with drunk moms and their cousin-husbands made "All Summer Long" his biggest hit ever. (That same unwashed crevice made Hinder and Buckcherry household names around that same time. God, the Bush administration was terrible.)

The bad sampling doesn't even make any sense- why are you sampling songs about Alabama and London when the song is about your teenage years, which you spent in Detroit? It seems like he (or more accurately, the guy from the Insane Clown Posse? Yeah, I'm not kidding) just went 'hey, these two songs kind of sound the same' and didn't think about it any further. It might have been a cool mashup at least, but then it got smeared in Kid Rock's patented douche juice. The lyrics are just about Kid Rock and his friends being mouth-breathing dumbasses when they were younger (and he hasn't changed, as evidenced by him rhyming "things" with "things" in the chorus). It's like "In the Summertime" without the charm, or any bro-country song without the energy. You talking about how you did drugs without even knowing what they were doesn't make me feel nostalgic, it just makes me hope that your kids stay inside your rocks, if you catch my drift. Somehow, that awful sentence I just typed still leaves me with more dignity than Kid Rock after releasing this.