#the shitty person that i should’ve realized i am much much earlier

[ctrl-alt-deleting-yr-face]

i need to kill myself i think

[waywardsunlight]

People who didn’t watch Supernatural I am informing you that while destiel was the better ship in the fandom it literally had to get AUed after a certain point to work anymore because Castiel literally realizes that he deserves better, gets fed up with Dean’s behavior, and leaves. He comes back toward the end of the show pretty much for his own kid bc that kid for WHATEVER reason wants to stay with Dean. And then he does the love confession, after already just kinda being done with him after getting treated like shit.

Prefacing this with the fact that I was a destiel shopper from 2015-2020, but Castiel was putting so much into the relationship for most of the show, he lets Dean down a few times but only after Dean ignores him and values his own feelings over Cas’s. Cas becomes a villain because he repeatedly warned Dean he needed help, Dean refused, and Cas went to get help from somebody he ended up regretting working with. Cas would walk through hell for Dean and Dean would do it too but only if Cas was already five feet deep in lava and Dean could make it about himself.

The idea of destiel is funny and silly and I don’t care if you ship it, actually I totally understand and there are periods of the show especially seasons 4-5 where it was pretty romantic but Destiel is often an AU where Dean became a better person. The actual show is one person being in love and working hard to help the other and protect him, because Dean taught him humanity and love, and the other person is entirely selfish in the relationship and abuses Cas a ton. There’s a line that I think totally fits this where Cas says he’d watch Dean destroy the whole world because of his curse and he’d still be by his side but Dean literally treated him so bad that Cas left him LMAOOOOO.

Also, even if Cas hadn’t told Dean he loved him, nobody deserves to get treated in the way he did. Cas should’ve said something earlier (I think he tried in season 12, there’s also a love confession in that season too but Cas said “I love you, I love all of you” in a room with Sam and Mary in it too.), but like… even if he wasn’t honest about his romantic feelings he still just didn’t deserve to get treated like that as a friend. I was so glad for him when he left Dean and kinda mad when he came back for Jack bc Jack literally should not have been around Dean at all bc Dean just continues to be a shitty person to him until the very end of the show despite already learning the lesson and Jack’s mental health crashing bc of Dean’s own selfishness lmaooo

[raekahwritings]

BNHA Gods AU - Thanatos - Shindou Yo

GODS AU! - What kind of shitty god are you?

Pairing: Shindou You x Reader

Rating: Explicit, NSFW, Minors, DO NOT ENTER.

Warning: NSFW, Mentions of non-consent, slight blood/gore/murder,slight yandere.

Word Count: 2016

Authors Note: This was written in one night, I really wanted to make it in time for this collaboration despite everything going on right now. I hope you all can forgive me since this wasn’t proof read but hopefully you all can enjoy the Gods!AU Shindou!

GODS!AU Collaboration: Please check out the collab here from @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten​

The age of gods was long over. They no longer walked this earth. No one worshipped them; they became the words of fiction and stories.

Let the gods guide you.

Live your life well and the gods may reward you.

Do not turn away from the path of good, lest the gods punish you.

Where were the gods when you needed them? When your mother had dressed you up as a pretty doll, when you smiled and jumped in the excitement of a new dress, and when she had shown you to a portly older gentleman. He took you, none-too-gently, and placed a bag of coins into your mother’s palm. She had left brusquely, curtly, and took care not to look you in the eyes.

How long had it been since then? Your childhood had gone by in the mess of yelling, screams, and scullery work. When you were old enough? You now lay on the floor with your clothing strewn apart, dried tears on your face and a voice hoarse from screaming.

This was a life where no gods deigned to visit—this was a place of vileness, sordidness, and loathsome men. You were nothing more than a commodity to them—they had no qualms about leaving you on this dirty floor.

God, you had prayed so many times. Save me.

You’d been delivered to them, lent like broken toy until they called the brothel master to fetch you.

You had been defiled too many times to believe that any God would help you now.

Where were you? What had they consecrated this time? They had laughed and they had jeered while you had cringed at the blasphemy they spewed. They had taken their belts to mark you, left you bleeding, and then poured acridly old liquid, “—better hope this fucking holy water works.”

“They would laugh at this.” You blinked away the tears, blinked to see the dormant idolatry of Thanatos nearby. You scrabbled at the ground, trying to find a perch to lay your hands on so you could get up. You winced at seeing the dried blood and spilt fluids. If there was a moment for Thanatos to judge you, this would be now.  

But would he?

Gods had come and gone, with nary a care. You tried to stand, tried to ignore the mess they had made, and you glared at the idolatry. “You didn’t stop this.” You pointed to the empty room – “You’re supposed to be some merciless, hateful god of death.” You scoffed, knowing it was pathetic. Here you were, reaching a level of desperation to talk to some useless piece of stone and an empty room like it would answer you. But all the resentment, anger, and bitterness spewed out – here and now— you hissing, “You’re a fucking piece of shit god.”

And yet.

“If my life was enough of a price, would you come here and now? Or am I too dirty for someone like you? You want a precious little girl, an innocent naïve little sheep?” You furiously took the idol, glaring before slamming it as hard as you could to the floor. Take that, you fucker.

You watched the idol shatter into pieces, the useless stone rolling away. You should fear your own blasphemy and yet… satisfaction had you feeling smug.

“My, my, that doesn’t seem very nice.”

Holy fuck. You whipped around—the room was empty. When had someone come in? You nearly screamed at the mysterious voice, your arms reaching out to blindly shove at the culprit while you stumbled backwards.

A masculine hand caught your arm, tsking at you and he emerged from the shadows with a disappointed look. You nearly fell backwards but his iron clasp had you standing upright.

“Who are you?” Shock and fear colored your tone, the smugness was fleeting as you look to the door, a door that hadn’t budged since the scraggle of men had left earlier. How did he get in? You looked at him, swallowing nervously, your gaze flitting up and down to make out this stranger in the darkness.

“You called me and yet, you still ask me?” He stepped further into the firelight… You looked up at this dizzyingly tall man, you could make out the messy, dark locks framing his chiseled face. But more so, you found yourself staring into eyes the color of pure jade. He was far too handsome, his features bold and brooding, the stubble on his face giving him a heathenish look. He was broad and lean, the muscles of his arms and chest visible through his disheveled shirt.

Someone who made you stop breathing.

“No.” You breathed— “You’re lying.” You called no one, he was here to take you back to the brothel, you tried to wrench your hand pathetically away. He couldn’t fool you, no matter how handsome he was.

“Calm down.” He pulled you into his chest, you were the one falling forward as he stopped your mewling struggles. You heard those words countless times; it had always preceded the acrid smell of chloroform…

“I don’t want to go back.” You choked out, letting your wrists fall slack. “I don’t want this.”

His voice lilted up, questioning. “Go back where?” You could almost believe the sincerity in his voice, the confusion, the perplexity of the situation. But people loved playing with you, toying with you in these games— men liked playing with women as if it were a game of cat and mouse. You curled your fingers into your palms, once again trying to suppress any kindle of hope—because you inevitably always were sold back.

Meanwhile, Thanatos, the god you had summoned with your blood, piety, and holy water—looked heavenwards in frustration. “Girl, speak your name.” He commanded—you answered obediently.

How? You didn’t mean to answer him.

“I am Thanatos. Now speak plainly. I’ve heard your desperate cry for help, for vengeance.” He leaned back against the stone table, tugging you into his lap. “Now can we dispense with the formalities? I’d much rather you call me Shindou instead.” You found yourself caged in—your chest against his bare one as he gestured for you to look up. “You summoned  me. And while I normally ignore mortals…” He let his hand fall loosely to your back—you stiffened, squirming—as his calloused fingers brushed against the filth on your skin, the torn scraps of fabric that hid nothing from his gaze.

“I was personally interested in this offering of yours.” You stilled. There had been no one in the room with you to hear your vitriol words—but this was the temple of Thanatos. Could it be?  “Oh. You don’t believe me?” You looked doubtful. Well he couldn’t blame you. His lips curved, expecting this reaction. He waved a hand in the air, letting the firelights flicker to black and purple flames, letting it dance across the room hauntingly for you. You watched transfixed. “But parlor tricks? A dime a dozen.” He said dismissively. He tapped the table, a prompt for the shadows around you to contort menacingly and snaking up your legs.

You jumped more into his arms, away from the strangely prying and invasive shadows as it crawled disturbingly high up your body.

“Girl, they’re simply an extension of me.” You could hear the humor in his tone, see the shadows snake away as he chuckled at your close contact with him. “But I suppose I can be nice for a bit.” He let the darkness recede and the orange firelight to flicker back.

“Now that’s settled, may I discuss your price?” You… took a moment to blink, to really focus on him. Something about him, the closer you were, was making your senses hazy. He seemed to realize, crooning gently to you. “Oh baby, I know gods are supposed to be tempting to mortals and all that but where’s the little spitfire that threw a little tantrum at me? I quite enjoyed it.”

The haze dissipated a bit. You… had thrown down the idolatry, you had committed blasphemy in the actual face of a god. You wanted to die, the shame overwhelming you. Thanatos—no, Shindou simply laughed though—“Baby, don’t think of me as one of the pious assholes. I don’t need you to prostrate yourself to me and those hopeless,” he waved at the ostentatious ornaments adorning the room, “piece of shit, ugly crap of me. I’m a lot more handsome in person, don’t you think?” You couldn’t disagree.

This kind of man—God, you corrected yourself—exuded charisma, aura, sexuality that vibrated with your own being. Like you were made for him, your body melted against his light touch.

“Demon got your tongue? I can fix that.” Shindou cradled the side of your face, leaning in to press a kiss. You gasped, giving him an opportunity for his tongue invade your mouth—ravishing and giving you no air to breathe. He reached down to anchor your hips against his, drawing you more into his lap and letting his hardness press into your dampened, slickened ache between your thighs.

But you were dirty and filthy. You pushed him, and he let you, you knew his strength far outstripped yours. “I can’t.” You shook your head. “You must’ve seen what happened…” It wasn’t just one disgusting man, it was many who had left you sticky and ruined with their fluids on your unwilling body.

Even now.

“Seriously? Shindou sighed. He tutted at you like a child—which as a mortal, you must’ve been. “I came all this way out for your offering, for this delectable and luscious body and you dare to impugn me with your sense of shame?” He cocked his head. “Like I didn’t know? All those men…” He parted your legs, let the sticky fluid drip. “All those men, and they didn’t break your spirit. You come to me, fiery and burning with revenge, and I answered your call. What could be more attractive than this?” Albeit… Shindou did frown. “I don’t care for those worms to mark what’s mine. I guess they all have to die, wont they?”

Your eyes widened… your words caught. You wanted to protest—the mocking feeling of horror should’ve come at the thought of such senseless murder and death…. But you could only feel the sense of relish, of pure desire to see the blood of your captors. You bit your lips, futilely trying to hide your anticipation and eagerness.

“Ah, that’s my girl. I knew you and I would get along.” Shindou pulled down the rags of your dress,  watched your nubile body pull close to his and you shivered—his hardness grinded against you—a god like this wanted you. You could hardly believe it. You whimpered as he bit down your throat, bit at the junction of your shoulders while you bled. He licked the bloody trail down your ample breasts, swirling his hot tongue around the hardened peaks and making you arch in muted pleasure.

“Oh no, you can’t stay quiet.” He let the shadowy tendrils return, let it wrap around your throat and craning your neck backwards. His hands traced over your slickened breasts, pinching, pulling, vibrating as you screamed in pleasure and pain. “Sounds quite nice.” He mused, condescendingly. His hands eventually travelled to your taut thighs, teasing the inside of them, and drawing them further apart.  His fingers brushed against the dirty cum—he didn’t care for it but he supposed he’d just have to fuck you enough so you’d be dripping with his own cum—all the more reason to cleanse this lustful, vengeful darling of a human.

He had waited for someone like you. Other gods deigned to have their innocent little virgins on their sacrificial alter.

He wanted a tainted, corrupted human whose lust rivalled their desire for revenge—a human he could turn into his little fuck toy of a god, one who would stand by his side as he ruled over mayhem, murder, and death. Preferably, begging for his cock and drunk on cum – not a bad start, he mused. Not a bad start.

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

Wrong Number, Asshole - A Bakugou Katsuki Soulmate AU

All Parts

Part 25:

You blinked blearily, rubbing the sleep away from your eyes.

For a minute you were disoriented, head spinning in confusion until you pieced together where you were. Who’s apartment you were in. Who was currently still fast asleep in your lap.

You flushed, still just as affected by his proximity as you were earlier. Except- it was slightly different now. Those little kitten snores? The ones you’d previously only heard over the phone? Well, now they were falling from his mouth in real time- in real life. In front of you. He was so close and warm and soft and uncharacteristically quiet and all you wanted to do was kiss him. 

The past few days, you’d been so focused on how he’d lied and his injuries that you’d almost forgotten just how much you liked him. You couldn’t forget now. Not with the way he had a hand under his cheek, fingers just barely curling your sweatshirt in his sleepy grip.

Your fingers itched with the need to touch him- to somehow expel all that rolling fondness and affection that was boiling over in you. You couldn’t help yourself, your fingers beginning to once again move lightly through his hair, scratching idly at his scalp as you went. 

You knew he’d be mad at your actions if he was awake- or flustered and embarrassed at the very least. But you just wanted to be nice to him. To show him how much you cared about him, and you were determined to do that- even if he seemed absolutely allergic to it. 

So you sat and stared shamelessly and soaked up the proximity and warmth radiating off his body. And it was perfect and serene and so sugary sweet for a while- until you realized how much your legs hurt.

They hurt and ached and were sore because Katsuki was heavy.

Absurdly heavy.

And the thing about him was, you were only supporting his head and his shoulders! On your legs too- not even your arms! Even so though, the honest to god weight of him was just ridiculous. He was a solid mass of nothing but strength and power and, quite frankly, ludicrous musculature. And if he wasn’t murdering your legs right now, and not in the fun way, you’re absolutely sure you’d be much more thrilled about these facts.

As it stands now though, nothing but an escape plan was on your mind. Even if the rest of you was only screaming to pull him closer.

“Katsuki.” You tried once more, prodding at his cheek lightly. “Katsuki, c’mon-time to get up.”

He had no reaction. Not even an eye twitch when you ghosted your hands over his face. In all honesty it seemed like he was dead. His breathing was so deep and slow it was almost non-existant and when you called him name, no matter how many times you said it, there wasn’t even a mumble- now whether that was effect of the pain meds or just him ignoring you, you had no idea.

Sighing with finality, and a genuine apology, you lifted his head. It was a struggle, and his unresponsiveness surely didn’t help, but eventually you escaped. You slipped a pillow under his head, patted his cheek fondly, and left towards his kitchen.

Now, was the easy part. Or was supposed to be the easy part- but considering this was Katsuki you should’ve known better.

His fridge was packed to the brim, overflowing with ingredients, but they were all ridiculous health foods. You wanted familiarity and comfort and grease- not green. Not the terrible, bitter, dark green vegetables that seemed to be the only thing he had.

What kind of guy doesn’t have junk food? You thought, shaking your head in utter disbelief. And he tells me I’m the weird one?

With a sigh, you begin rifling through the drawers for something at least a bit fattening, and you can’t kid yourself, it does soothe that itch from earlier. That weird, tingling, constant itch to pick apart every little detail and mix and match them together until you knew every possible thing about Bakugou there was to know. Until you knew things about him that no one else did- until you knew him better than he even knew himself.

And maybe that was selfish, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care all that much. If talking to him, knowing him was intoxicating before, just over the phone, than it was an addiction now. Here in this apartment, surrounded entirely by pieces of him, Katsuki felt real. He felt tangible and honest and complete, and you’d never be satisfied with just texts and phone calls again.

Grinning widely, you grabbed the blocks of cheese, and a few different freshly-cut herbs. Inspiration had struck, and within the weirdly hearty contents of his refridgerator lied your saving grace.

Grilled cheese- because at the end of the day, you were a child through and through.

Gathering the rest of the ingredients, and searching for a pan, you couldn’t contain the warmth in your chest. Not only were you going to be eating good food, but you were sharing it. With your soulmate. It was a weird little bit of domesticity, preparing a meal for him, but you couldn’t say you hated it.

Apparently, you’d made too much noise with the pan, because suddenly you hear shuffling. Glancing behind you, Katsuki is grumbling under his breath as he clambers into the kitchen. He’s all loose limbs and sleepy grunts, grumpily throwing himself down into a seat at the counter, just a few feet away from you.

“Jesus fuckin’ christ, sunshine, could you be any goddamn louder?”

You’re not sure if it’s the combination of the nickname and his crackling sleep-laden voice, or maybe it’s the way his cheeks are stil warmed from sleep, but you melt. Practically dissolve into the floor beneath you. That feeling- that aching one from earlier where all you wanted to do was kiss him silly? Yeah, it’s back now. Back in full-force and unleashing a hellish barrage of butterflies in your stomach.

“Nothin’ to say? Yeah. Thought so. Idiot.” He barks.

“Not a morning person?” You recover, quickly turning back to the stove. Hopefully it’ll cover up the absolute hearts you currently had for eyes.

“It’s 8 PM.”

“It was a joke, angry man.” You laugh. Turning back, you sneak a glance at him, completely unable to help yourself. “Don’t be so grumpy.”

“I’m not fuckin’ grumpy.”

Bakugou mumbles it so quietly and petulantly that you almost can’t hold back your squeal. There he is, just feet away, currently holding the title for World’s Most Adorable Pout and you couldn’t do anything!

Well, maybe you could- if you were bolder and stronger. But you weren’t. Right now you felt weak.

“You could just go back to sleep, you know.” You finally say.

“And let ya fuck up my kitchen unsupervised?” He yawns widely, rubbing at his eyes. “No fuckin’ thanks.”

“It’s only grilled cheese, I think I’ll manage.”

“Grilled cheese? Am I five or some shit?”

“No- but I am. And it’s what I’m making.” You supplied, an easy smile gracing your lips. “So it’s either you have one too, or you starve to death. Your choice, Katsuki dear.”

He blushes when you look at him, hiding it behind his hand. “Yeah. Whatever. Just make sure it’s fucking edible.”

“That’s a tall order, angry man. I might not be able to do it.” You say teasingly, terribly high on a mixture of him and your own fuzzy feelings. “We’ll see, huh?”

Katsuki just nods, dropping his head into his hands. He still looks tired, his eyes half-lidded and eyebrows drawn low, but he’s fighting sleep. Every time you turn to glance at him, he’s blinking himself awake, and every time you turn away you can feel his eyes on your back. It was sweet- until it wasn’t. Until he ruined it.

“Your knife skills are fuckin’ terrible, idiot.”

“Wow- thanks.” You snort, but your motions don’t cease. You’re steady and sure with your chops, even in the face of his ridiculous criticism. “And to think I went to all this trouble for you.”

“You’re just chopping stupid onions.”

“And caramelizing them!” You defend, adding the diced onions into your pan full of oil. You turn back to him, brandishing your knife playfully. “Which you’d know if you let me get that far!”

“A knife! In my own fuckin’ kitchen? That supposed to be a shitty ass threat or somethin’?”

“No, if I was gonna threaten you, I wouldn’t use a knife. That’s just a bad battle tactic, really”

“Yeah?” He takes the bait, perks up a little bit as an easy smile rolls across his face. “What’d you fuckin’ use then, idiot?”

“Fire extinguisher.”

Katsuki’s amused- you know he is, can see it in the way his eyes shine, but he’s fighting it. He’s pulling his mouth into a half-hearted grimace and scowling at you when he replies.

“You’re not fuckin’ funny. That wasn’t funny.”

“I am and it was, but that’s okay.” You shrug, going back to carmelizing the onions. They’re nearly done now, and you add a few spices and a dash more oil in with them. “Can’t win ‘em all, I guess.”

“You’re talking like you can win any.”

“Hey! I’d be careful there, angry man. I know where you live, you know.”

That does elicit a snort from him, and you can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks. “You plannin’ to kill me in my sleep?”

“Now if I told you that wouldn’t very much of a plan, would it?”

“No. Guess even a dumbass like you can understand that much.”

“Katsuki,” You sigh dreamily, turning your head to bat your eyelashes at him dramatically. “You have such a way with words! Makes a girl feel so special.”

He seems stunned for a moment, before he blushes and averts his eyes. Recovery for him takes a second- but only just a second.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re so fuckin’ funny.” He grumbles, mouth drawn into a thin line. “What’s got you so goddamn cheery anyway?”

“Took a nap. Feelin’ energized.”

“When?”

“When you took one?” You say, idly stirring the ingredients in the pan. “What- you thought I was awake the whole time? That I did nothing but just pet your hair and watch you sleep? For hours?”

He doesn’t say anything, and that seals it for you.

Katsuki had to be the cutest thing on Earth. Just the most adorable little rabid thing who you wanted to keep forever and hug super close and maybe kiss all over. He was precious, and when you looked over to see that he was indeed blushing- well, those feelings only multiplied 1000x over.

“N-no! I didn’t! Fuck no! Don’t be fucking stupid!” He defends, all sleep now gone from his features. “I didn’t! I didn’t and I don’t so shut the fuck up about it!”

You’re not sure if it was the nap or his flustered state that gives you strength, but you’re crossing the room before you can help it. Standing just on the other side of the counter, you lean across it on your elbows, catching his gaze. There’s feelings fluttering wildy in your chest- warm, blistering, uncontainable feelings threatening to burst through your skin and you find you just can’t help yourself.

“Would you like me to pet your hair and watch you sleep for hours? Huh? Katsuki?”

He damn near jolts in his seat- back ridgid and jaw set and eyes so very, very, alive. Flushing, red gathers around his cheeks and his neck and the tips of his ears. Your ears ring prematurely in anticipation, in pure sympathy for the way your ear drums are seconds away from being burst entirely.

“Why the fuck- I didn’t! Why the fuck would you even say that?” He screams, voice tearing from his throat with a feral growl. “You think your funny or some shit? Asking weird shit and being fucking weird in my goddamn kitchen? Tryna start a fuckin’ fight with me? I’ll start a fuckin’ fight!”

Bakugou square his shoulders, mouth set into a determined line through his harsh words. He’s pushing away from the counter, just barely swinging his legs over the chair when you reach him.

“Sit back down, angry man.” You laugh, the sound uncontrollable as it tumbles from your mouth. You push at his rising shoulders until he relents. Watching as he sinks back into his seat, you smile widely. “No fight! I was joking!”

“Well I don’t think your jokes are very fuckin’ funny!”

“Mhm, I know.” You say indulgently, unable to keep the fondness from your tone. “But don’t worry, grumpy, I think that’s all I have. No more jokes for tonight.”

“Now you’re just fuckin’ lying to me.” He barks, but even through the bite you can hear his smile. “You really are askin’ for a fight, aren’t ya?”

“No, I’m not. Seriously.” You soothe.

He doesn’t say anything, just goes back to watching you cook. You’re dropping bread into the pan, watching it brown and adding cheese. Some of the shredded cheese hits the pan, burns quickly- makes a popping sound.

The smile captures your face before you can stop it. Again, you find that you really just can’t help yourself around him.

“And even if I was starting a fight,” You start again, laughing lightly with your back turned to him. “I wouldn’t get very far now, would I? You’d blow me up in a second, huh, angry man?”

You hear him shift in the chair, hear his sharp exhale and his arms hitting the counter. You expect an angry retort, hell, maybe even a cocky one- but that’s not what you get when you turn to face him.

“I would never blow you up.”

His eyes widen, shoulders tensing immediately. You weren’t fairing any better- just as surprised by his quick statement as he was.

In all your life, in all your soulmate fantasies, you had never imagined the words “I would never blow you up” to be the tipping point for you. You never imagined that those words would be what sent you over- what broke the weird dam of feelings that had been welling in you since the day you texted him. But it was.

You were crossing the kitchen before you knew it, careful, sure, strides carrying you to his side. You hands fell around his cheeks, tilting his head up to meet your eyes, and suddenly, all at once, it hit you.

“I like you.” You admit breathlessly, your fond laugh erupting from your chest and raw and unfettered and real. “I- I like you so much, you asshole. You know that? Right?”

He looks winded, his eyes widening as you draw slow circles with your thumbs on his cheeks. You can just barely see it, he only just hardly lets you, but you watch the way he leans into your touch. Just the barest bit of extra weight in your hands, only for a moment, before he pulls back just a bit, smirking up at you.

“Fuckin’ said that already, dumbass.”

“Katsuki!”You whine in protest, rolling your eyes as you let go of his cheeks. “I was being nice!”

You had planned to retreat after that, but the way he suddenly smiles keeps you rooted where you stand. It’s confident little smirk, sitting just at the edge of his mouth- it’s so coy and immature and playful and so very much him that it pulls you in. You’re stepping closer, just a little, and that only makes him, as if he understands, smirk a little more.

He’s like a magnet, you realize, blushing wildly. A dangerous magnet- and I’m an idiot for letting myself get this close.

“I was bein’ nice.” He finally says, grin absolutely shit-eating at this point. “What the hell are you complain’ about, woman- that was nice. You don’t like me bein’ nice to you?”

“That was not nice!”

“I think it was.” He shrugs, so very self-assured and taking the piss. “Think maybe you’re just too fuckin’ sensitive? Hah?”

It’s the way he says it- so cooly and calmly and almost smugly. Like he’s got you backed into a corner and just waiting under his finger. And, truthfully, he does, but you’re much too competitive to just accept that. Much too familiar with the way he’ll blush and scream and fluster at even a hint of pushback. So even with shaky breaths, and a heart fluttering out of control, you challenge him.

“Out of the two of us,” You start, a shaky hand ghosting feather-light under his chin, just barely tilting his face up. “I’m not the sensitive one.”

He takes the bait, just as you knew he would, and rises to it. Even blushing as he was, Katsuki only inches closer in challenge, catching your gaze in full. “Big fuckin’ words, sunshine. Be careful.”

The nickname was playing dirty, and he knew it. You could see it in the careful set of his jaw, the way that incredibly irritating smirk was still sitting unbidden across his stupid beautiful face. You couldn’t let him win. You just couldn’t. 

“Yeah, you’re so angry, aren’t you? So scary, pop rocks.” You tease, desperately trying to move past your breathlessness. Your hand moves on it’s own, threading carefully through his hair. “But not around me.”

“Fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means you’ve gone soft, Katsuki.”

His hackles raise at that, and he clenches his jaw, eyes raging like wildfires. Bakugou doesn’t move away though, only gets closer, his hot breath hitting your face. “I’m. Not. Fuckin’. Soft!”

“Really?”

He nods, so very determined and offended and focused that you laugh. Your giggle makes him angry, you can see it in his eyes, but that only draws you closer. Only a few inches separate the two of you, but it’s like you can’t get close enough. It’s his magnetism, the way he’s still provoking you -despite being so red- that has your hands dropping from his head, crossing together behind his shoulders. You giggle again, warm, happy, heat flooding you at the proximity.

“Prove it then, Katsuki.”

Your defiance only seems to make him angrier. To make him boil because then he’s snarling, eyebrows creasing sharply, and he’s surging upwards, pressing his lips to yours. There’s no grace to it, no soft romance, just brutal pressure and his sharp teeth and his rough hands on your face. All things considered, it was the most aggressive kiss you’d ever recieved, but maybe you should’ve expected that. Still, it takes your breath away, nearly knocks your feet out from under you.

“Still think I’m fuckin’ soft?” Bakugou pulls away, so red he’s about to explode, but he’s still sitting there smirking like he’s won. “Hah?”

You can’t help it- you’d never heard his voice, felt it against your skin this close before. You shiver. That only seems to amuse him more, but then he’s looking past you. 

“Bread’s gonna fuckin’ burn.”

“Y-yeah!” You’re shocked out of whatever hold he had you in, shoulders straightening as you backed away. “Yeah. I know. I got it.” 

You felt winded, nearly weightless and fuzzy and flying as you turned back to the food. Your lips still tingled, fire sitting unrelenting in your cheeks as you finished. Part of you wondered where the hell that Katsuki came from, but then again, you figured that was part of him all along. He wouldn’t lose to anybody- and definitely not to you. 

You plate up the food, and when you turn around he’s still smirking. You want to kiss the smugness right off his idiotic gorgeous lips and you promise yourself you will. Later. 

“It’s hot, so be careful.” You say, sliding his plate across the counter to him.

“Obviously, dumbass. You think I’m that fuckin’ stupid?”

“No, but I’d hate for you to burn your taste buds off before you could really eat.” You smile, rounding the counter with your own food and taking a seat next him. “You’d really be missing out!” 

“What- you make it special or some shit?”

“Mhm. Just for you, angry man!” You laugh. “Figured you deserved something good after all your hard work and heroics.”

Bakugou’s eyes widen, so comically large and bright as he blushes and bites his knuckle. He turns away so quick, nearly cracking his neck with how fast he averts his eyes. “D-don’t just say that shit to me. Fucking weirdo.”

You took a deep breath, physically willing yourself not to turn away and squeal as loud as you could. He just had no right to be that adorable. Katsuki had fully kissed you, hands on your face and biting pressure, but he drew the line at being served food? At being served kind words? 

Oh- oh. You realized. It was words for him- affirmation. That was his real weakness. You filed it away, incredibly excited for the next time you got to test that little theory out on him. 

Dinner was an interesting affair- it was quiet and relatively calm, at least for everyone but the poor grilled cheese you’d served to him. He’d torn into it the second it was cool enough, nearly demolishing it in his sharp teeth. You figured you should’ve guessed that, that he’d eat the way he did everything else- aggressively.  

“You want anything else?” You ask, gathering the plates and cleaning up the counter.

“No. I’m good.” He grunts. “Thank you for the food, but if I want anything else I’ll get it my fuckin’ self.” 

“A simpler thank you would’ve worked just as well.”

“It’s- I’m not,” He grumbles, stubborn as ever. “The food was good. Thank you. I’m just saying you didn’t have to go to all the fuckin’ trouble. If I need somethin’ I’ll get it. I’m not a fuckin’ invalid who can’t do anything.”

“Oh my god.” You mumble under your breath, spinning around to face him. “Will you please just let me help you?”

“I don’t fuckin’ need it.”

“Katsuki- c’mon, just let me take care of you. Help you. Please.”

He looks stunned, maybe even vulnerable, as you near. You take one of his hands in yours.

“Don’t be so stubborn, angry man. I just want to take care of you.” You plead, not letting him look away. “Somebody’s gotta right? Especially since you’re still sore.”

“‘M-’m not that sore. I’ll be fuckin’ fine. Done it before.”

“Yeah, maybe, you have, and I’m sure you still could. I know you’re strong.” You supply. “So strong- but you don’t always have to be strong all by yourself anymore. We can be strong together. I’m here for you, you know?”

Something in his eyes seems so tiny and small and unsure at your words, and it breaks your heart. There aren’t enough words in the world for all you want to say in that moment, so you just take his head in your hands, kiss him with every bit of care and concern you hold for him.

Well you pull back, he won’t look at you, his cheeks gone nearly as red as his vulnerable eyes. His shoulders shake, and he takes a deep breath, turning his head to place a tiny little kiss into the palm of your hand. He doesn’t say anything, but the tiny action communicates almost everything you need to know.

“I saw that fall, alright?” You soothe, thumbs rubbing over his cheeks. “It was pretty nasty, and you’ve gotta be feeling shitty right now. I get it, and I don’t think less of you for it, and I’m not taking ‘pity’ on you or whatever you’re thinking so much about- I really just want to help you feel better. Because I care about you, and I’m so proud of you of saving that kid, and you deserve so many nice things. You gotta let someone help you, okay?”

He nods slowly, but you can see the resistance in the grimace of his mouth. It wasn’t easy for him- accepting help and admitting to any sort of fragility. You’d knew he’d fight you every step of the way- but that was okay. You’d never backed down from one of his challenges before.

“Now, I’m gonna ask you again, and I want you to just listen. Just listen and answer.” You tap a finger against his cheek. “What can I do to help you right now?”

“I-I fuckin’- I can’t.” He breathes, stuttered and anxious, frustrated eyes flitting between every object in the room. “Embarrassing- you’re fuckin’ tryin’ to- I don’t need stupid special treatment! I’m not weak!”

“I know. I know. I’m not saying you are.” You close the distance, pressing a light kiss into his hairline. “Being hurt isn’t the same thing as being weak. Being injured doesn’t mean you’re weak- and accepting help due to those injuries doesn’t make you weak either. You survived that fall because you’re strong, but you don’t have to be right now. Not unless that’s what you really want- not unless being alone right now is really what would help you best.”

He doesn’t say anything, just stares up at you with eyes so guarded that it makes you want to cry.

“Is it? Is that what you want?” You ask tenatively. “If you’re really not feeling up to it, just want to shut down and sleep instead, I don’t have to be here. I want to, because I care about you, but I won’t force you. I can leave if-“

Bakugou suddenly grasps at your wrist, fingers twitching on your skin. His eyes are closed and his eyebrows are pinched, but he presses your hand into his burning cheeks.

“Yeah. Okay.” You whisper, the fondness and affection dripping from your words, thick and heavy as they leave your mouth. “I get it. I understand- you don’t have to say it.”

He just nods tightly, eyes still closed.

You stay there for a moment, just breathing in the rare vulnerability that was rolling off of him. Then you find it’s not enough- that you need more contact. You’re surging forward, tucking his head into your neck as you wind feather-light arms around him, careful to avoid his injuries.

Bakugou fights it, going rigid and stiff and resitant at first. He hardly looks at you, just barely, but you catch his gaze and nod. It’s all it takes before he’s allowing himself to sink into you, his arms pulling you closer.

It’s hesitancy, than acceptance and than desperation, and suddenly he’s holding you so tightly, clutching at you like you’re gonna fade. Like you’ll slip through his calloused fingers. It makes you ache. Sends volts of throbbing pain through your chest that have you squeezing him tighter.

It makes you want to sob- the way he seemed so resistant to softness despite being so obviously starved for it. You wondered if anyone else had stuck around this long; if anyone else had noticed just how desperate he was for someone to finally hear him.

It was alright now, you figured. He had you now and you’d listen for as long as he allowed you to.

“You don’t have to say anything,” You start, voice quiet, turning your head to whisper against his hair. “But I want you to know that I think you’re good. That I think that you’re so strong, the absolute bravest, and that you did a really good thing saving that kid. I believe you- when you said that you were working on it. You’re not so angry anymore and I get it. I know I haven’t know you that long, but still, I’m so proud of you for it.”

He just melts into you further, a shuddering breath against your neck. You think you can feel a smile- just the tiniest little twitch of his lips. A hesitant, honest, thing that has unbridled fondess tearing through your chest.

You stay like that for a few minutes, so close and warm and connected, before he’s pushing you away. Just barely pressing away from you until he can look you in the eyes.

“I- uh, I fuckin’ like you too.” He stutters out, so very red and exposed and genuine. He seems to struggle with the eye contact, but he holds it anyway. “And think you’re okay. Or whatever.”

Truthfully, you wanted to tease him. Wanted to giggle and laugh and pick apart the words because he just added a “Or whatever” to the end of his declaration. It was quite possibly the lamest possible phrase to tack onto the end of an emotional statement and you wanted to say something- but now wasn’t the time for that. You didn’t even want to imagine the walls he’d put up if you laughed at him right now.

So you didn’t, you just pulled him close again. Hugged him tight and hid your pleased smile where he couldn’t see it. Bakugou stills then, resting his head against you and shutting his eyes. His anxiety fades from his shoulders and his breathing slows; if you you didn’t know any better you’d swear he was falling asleep.

“You want more pain meds?” You ask after a while. “Think it’s probably about time.”

He just nods. You begin to move away, and he follows you for a second. Just a second though- and then he’s catching himself and fisting his hands tightly shut in his lap, cheeks flushing.

“The nightime ones look pretty intense.” You comment, reading the label on the bottle. You give it a playful shake. “You wanna get high, angry man?”

He’s scoffing and rolling his eyes but he’s smiling too. Katsuki holds a hand out and you toss him the bottle.

“Not a fuckin’ baby.” He grunts, twisting open the bottle. He dry-swallows the pills; you he does it just to prove a point. “I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know, those pills kinda look like horse tranquilizers. Worringly so.” You refill his glass of water, shoving it towards him before he can protest. “Now drink up. Then you’re spending the rest of the night on the couch, where you should’ve been. The whole time. Resting.”

“Jeez, pushy woman. I get it. Chill out already.”

“How am I supposed to chill out when you keep not listening to me, huh?” You take the empty glass from his hands. “Now, c’mon, go- back to the living room. I know you’re not gonna let me help you, but I swear to god, if I don’t see you hobbling away in a few seconds, I’m gonna be really angry at you.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, all petulant dramatics and huffy sighs, but gets up anyway- actually listens to you even if it seems like it physically pains him. Actually, knowing him, it probably does.

He collapses into the couch as you bring another water over- just in case. You meant it when you said you didn’t want him getting up again.

“So, I’m thinkin’ you’ve got, max, maybe 30 minutes? Possibly 45?” You say settling in on the other side of the couch. “So pick a movie.”

He looks at you a little weirdly. “Why?”

“Because those meds are gonna knock you the fuck out.” You laugh, unable to hold it in. “And because watching movies is a relaxing activity. And that’s what you’re supposed to be doing right now. Relaxing.”

“So you’ve fuckin’ said. I get it, woman. Put whatever you want on, I don’t care.”

“Really? No preference at all?”

“No.” He puffs out his cheeks, averts his eyes. “Normally don’t have time for that shit.”

You can’t help it- the way you find yourself sidling right up next to him. You’re careful, sure to avoid all his sore limbs, but you take a chance and poke at his chest lightly.

“No time, huh?” You say, catching his eyes. “I’ll find a way to change that.”

His eyes widen and his cheeks redden, and as usual, he doesn’t say anything. Katsuki just hides his face over your head, tucking you into his chest as he huffs.

“Course you fuckin’ would. You’re the most irritating woman I’ve ever met.”

“I’m gonna choose to take that as a complement.”

“You fuckin’ shouldn’t. It’s not.”

“Well, I think I will anyway.” You giggle, sinking into his hold. “Besides, I’m pretty sure you like me- you did kiss me first, you know.”

Bakugou goes ridgid at that, face heating as he forcibly shucks you from him. He looks appalled, absolute disbelief covering his features.

“T-that’s not! I fuckin’- I did that shit to win! Because you said I was soft! I’m not fucking soft, you shitty woman!”

“Mhm. I know.” You laugh, nearing him again and stopping just inches from his red face. You’re blushing too, horribly so, but you can’t help teasing him. Nothing could stop you from riling him up further- it was your favorite past-time after all. “You wanna try winning again? I’ll promise I’ll let you. Katsuki.”

Pop.

He shrinks back in his seat, jolts like he’s the one who just got shocked. He isn’t. You are- and you’re laughing and smiling and breaking the tension all at once.

“That’s- Don’t fuckin’ do that to me! Goddamn witch! What the hell is that? Fuckin’ breaking my quirk? What the fuck?” He roars as he tucks his hands under his legs. “You know how long I been workin’ on controlling that shit? Just to have you walk in and fuck it up? Stop it! I fuckin- you make me so mad! Stop laughing!”

“I-I’m not. I’m not! It’s just,” You begin, breathless and gasping. “I was wondering, you know, why that hadn’t happened in a while, but now I know why. And it’s adorable.”

“Shut up! It’s not and I’m not- I’m fucking cool as shit so don’t go running your fuckin’ mouth about it! You don’t know what you’re talking about, damn dumbass, you don’t know shit!”

You sober a little bit, admiration shining clearly in your eyes when you look at him. When you look at his red face- the way he flustered. Because that’s the secret, you discovered; he only popped when you embarrassed him.

“Stop yelling already.” You giggle, pressing closer to him. “It’s not a bad thing, angry man. You make me nervous too, you know?”

He spares a look at you, blinking dumbfounded at your statement. Like he couldn’t believe it. It was such a ridiculous, oblivious look on his face that you couldn’t stop yourself- you just had to kiss it away.

As much noise as he was making, it all dies away the second you meet his lips. All the resistance fades and he melts into it, hands grasping under your chin to keep you close to him.

The first kiss was about winning, and the second one about validation, and those were good, amazing, but this one was nothing but fondess. A torrent of burning, boiling, affection as your lips moved against his. It was a tender kiss, much softer and slower than the first one, and a lot more delicate but you liked it just the same. Liked being able to finally act on all the feelings you’d been storing up for weeks.

The completion you’d felt from this kiss far surpassed the charged kisses from earlier. This was kissing him just because you could, because you wanted to, and you were sure this was heaven- at least, as close to heaven as any one human should ever be allowed to get.

It felt like flying, like hurtling above the earth and surging through the clouds. Like you were Icarus and you breached the atmosphere to soar against the surface of the sun. His hands fell to the base of your spine, pressing you firmly against him, and suddenly you knew. Knew it for sure, in your bones like it’d always been carved in there-you might’ve been Icarus, but he’d never let you fall. You would get to blister and scorch and burn for as long as you’d wanted but your wax would never melt. There was no fear when falling with him. Falling for him.

You pull away, but you don’t go too far. Don’t think you could separate even if you tried. Katsuki was an addiction, a powerful, potent thing and the only salve for that itch in your skin was being close to him. As close as you could possibly manage.

He didn’t say anything, just ragged breathes as he pulled you close. That was alright, you figured, you already knew he wasn’t a man of many words. At least not of many nice ones. The thought made you giggle.

“What the fuck are you laughin’ about, idiot?” He huffs, cheeks still bright red. “What’s so fuckin’ funny, hah?”

“Nothing. I just like you. A lot.”

The statement was easy, falling from your mouth like it was seared into your tongue. You’d knew the affect it would have- that he’d jump in his skin and go shy under your touch. That was half the reason you said it after all.

“Oh my god,” You whisper, dropping a quick kiss to his heated cheek just because you could. He only seems further embarrassed by your action, hands unconciously scrunching the material of your sweatshirt. “You’re killing me.”

“Good.” He mumbles juvenilely, looking anywhere to avoid your eyes. “Die then. Fuckin’ burn, you witch.”

The laugh that tears from your chest is full and heavy and so very filled with joy that it sucks the air out of you. Has you grasping for breath as you clutch your stomach, a hand braced on the cushion behind you as you absolutely lose yourself. When the tears finally clear from your eyes, you see him smiling, apparently very pleased with his joke. Which, to be completely honest, you were too. It was a very funny joke, after all.

“You can’t- you shouldn’t call your soulmate a witch, Katsuki!”

He just shrugs, smile still stretched across his face as he watches you.

“Jesus christ, what am I gonna do with you?” You ask, heaving a breath as your last giggles fade. “You’re a real handful, you know?”

He nods, looking once again all too pleased with himself. You see his pupils though- the way they’ve slowly dialated from the meds. You had to hand it to him, being that present while fighting heavy narcotics? He really was the best at everything.

“Alright, alright, enough jokes from you, Mr. Funny Man.” You say, standing quickly to grab the blanket across the room. You sit back down, setting it to the side as you pat your lap. “Lay down.”

“I’m not-“

“Just lay down, you stubborn idiot.” You sigh. “I can see your eyes. You’re tired, aren’t you?”

“Not that fuckin’ tire-“

“I said, you’re tired, aren’t you?” You interrupt sternly.

He just looks at you, rolls his eyes for the umpteenth time that night, and collaspes into your lap. You spread the blanket over him, nearly cooing when he pulls it up to his chin and closes his eyes. He then abruptly shifts, movements jerky and aggressive as he turns onto his side and wraps his arms around you stomach.

“Aww, Katsuki-“

“Shut the fuck up, woman.” He bites out, not even bothering to open his eyes. “Say a goddamn thing and I’ll fucking bite you.”

“Ooo kinky.”

True to his word, he does bite. Not a cute bite either- it’s all pressure and sharp teeth and locked jaw against your stomach, all ridiculous force through your sweatshirt, and you swear to god if he wasn’t so cute you’d slap him.

“Katsuki!” You shrill, hands pushing his head away. “Ow! Stop! That hurts, you bitch!”

“Told you. Fuckin’ warned ya.” He grunts, relenting with a smug smile as he nuzzles back into your stomach- this time without teeth. “Now turn on the TV. Need background noise to drown you the fuck out.”

“You’re so mean!” You whine, but you’re still petting his hair fondly, shifting as minutely as you could to grab the remote.

He doesn’t say anything as the TV clicks to life, filling the room with soft instructions as the cooking channel drones on. You watch it for a while, perfectly content and sated as you scratch at his scalp. You wouldn’t pick the cooking channel on a normal day- but let’s face, you weren’t really paying that much attention to it.

Katsuki shifts suddenly, sleepily prods the base of your spine with a single finger until you jump.

“God.” You huff. “What?”

“You should stay.”

“S-stay?”

“Tonight.” He slurs, eyes just barely sliding open to display his glazed pupils. “Here.”

He’s trying to blink himself away now, hardly able to keep his eyes open. You see his blown pupils and feel his sluggish limbs- that medicine really was doing a number on him. Turns out, even the great Bakugou Katsuki wasn’t stronger than literal drugs.

Your stomach sank as you continued to look him. You wanted to stay- truly you did. But you couldn’t. It was a sunday, you had class in the morning, and your university was over in the next city.

You should stay.” He insists again.

“I’m can’t stay.”

“Fuckin- why?” He pokes your cheek with a sluggish limb, just barely missing your eyes. His own are coated in mild irritation. “Hate me that much or somethin’?”

“No.” You laugh fondly, batting his hands away and gathering them in your own. “I have class tomorrow morning, angry man.”

He’s quiet for a moment, but you watch his lips pull into a pout. He pokes your cheek again. “Drop out of school.”

“I’m not gonna drop out of school.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m almost finished.” You supply indulgently, cradling his sleepy face in your hands. “I can always visit tomorrow.”

“No. Now.”

“Katsuki,” You giggled, unable to contain it. “I really can’t. I can’t just do everything you say, you know.”

“Never fuckin’- never do anythin’ I say.”

“I know.”

He’s quiet again, head lolling to bury itself back into your stomach. You look at the time, and laugh- you guess 9:47 was past his bed time even when he wasn’t sky high off of pain meds.

“Stay.” He orders again, arms winding tighter against your stomach.

“You’re so loopy, my dear angry man.” You coo, catching his face in your palms, tilting his head until you meet his glazed eyes. “God, I can’t wait to tell you about this tomorrow morning.”

“When you’re still here.”

“I’m not- Katsuki!” You giggle. “What has that medicine done to you, oh my god.”

He just shrugs, closing his eyes as he drops his head back further into your palms. At this point, so flustered and outright giddy at his adorable actions, you were sure that your hands had to be shaky- but if they were he certainly didn’t seem to mind.

“Are you serious, right now? It’s- that’s all your weight! What’re you gonna do; just break your neck if I move my hands?”

“Yeah. Fuckin’ probably.”

“That’s not a good answer.”

“Mhm. Don’t move ‘em then.” He slurs. “World’s- world’s gonna be real fuckin’ mad if you kill me.”

You want to retort, want to argue with him and his ridiculousness, but he wouldn’t be awake to find out. He’s fallen asleep almost as soon as he finishes the thought, head falling completely into your palms, even more dead weight than before. Surpressing a squeal, you set his head back down on your thighs, heart pounding wildly when he nuzzles into your stomach.

His kitten snores start again, those same adorable little ones from earlier, and it’s like you had no choice. Mid-terms were coming up soon, and it was a terrible choice to skip class tomorrow morning, and your back would kill you when you woke up, but your grave was dug the second he’d cuddled into you.

Bakugou Katsuki always got his way after all- always won, even when it came to you. So you didn’t fight the sleep gathering in your eyes, letting your head fall heavy against the cushion behind you.

You stayed. You would stay, and you knew it was just because he asked you to, because he had you wrapped so tightly and completely around his explosive fingers- no matter how much you wanted to deny it.

//-//

enjoy the fluff kissy kissy :))

[ur-favorite-queer-queen]

Second Chance

For Maribat March day 12 theme second chance

Master List

Sometimes Marinette really wished Penny and Jagged hadn’t adopted her. It’s not that she didn’t want to be a Rolling-Stone, no that wasn’t it. In fact, she was grateful that they had saved her from the horrors that Paris now held for her. It’s just they dragged her to stuff like this, some rich man’s gala. 

She had slept for a full 12 hours after finishing Penny’s dress, only to wake up to the news she was coming with them. She probably should’ve seen it coming. Although she was hoping this would be one of the lucky cases where she didn’t have to go. Despite her protests they insisted she needed to interact with other humans who weren’t serving her coffee. In Jagged’s words, “Who knows, you might make a rock n roll friend!” 

Now here she was, in her black and purple dress that matched Penny’s and Jagged’s outfits. Letting a bit of her anxiety out as she fiddled with the strap of her matching purse. Watching her parents mingle with the rich folk while she stood off to the side. Every once in a while they would cast her a ‘go make a friend’ look but it never bothered her, she just needed to wait until they stopped turning to look back at her.  

After about 10 minutes they stopped, perfect. She casually asked a waiter where the bathroom was and made her way there. Once inside she slipped off the pearl anklet that was Daizzi’s miraculous, letting the kwami make her way into her purse, before pulling out a familiar nose ring. Now that Jagged and Penny were letting her do her own thing, she could go back to scaring people into not socializing with her. While she would’ve loved to keep Daizzi’s miraculous on so that it could combat Stompp’s miraculous side effects, she learned that it took too much energy to do so. And she didn’t want to explain why she was so tired after the gala if she wasn’t talking to anyone. 

She schooled her features before making her way back out sending a cold look to anyone who tried to come up to her. She pulled out her phone only to see that 2 hours had passed, she still had 4 more to go. Time was moving much too slowly for her liking. 

A clearing of the throat brought her out of her thoughts. She rolled her eyes, putting her phone back in her purse, getting ready to glare at the person who was going to try to talk to her, only to stare in shock at the green eyes that were watching her. The same ones that had bumped into her just days before. The same ones she had sworn she probably wouldn’t ever see again. 

Her mouth moved without her permission, again she blames Stompp, “You.” 

He smiled or maybe it was a smirk, responding with way too much amusement, “Me.” 

She once again schooled her features to look bored, but she’s pretty sure her eyes gave her away with the way he reacted, “What are you doing here?” 

Just like before it took him a moment to reply, his smirk growing just the tiniest bit, “I’m always invited to these things, I’ve never seen you before though.” 

“With any luck this will be the last time you see me.” She remarked. She didn’t mean to be so rude again she blames Stompp but she really hadn’t expected to see him. To his credit he didn’t seem deterred by her cold vibe, if anything he seemed more determined. 

“Why would you say that?” 

“These types of things,” She waved her hand around, motioning to the room, “Just aren’t my thing. My parents make it look so easy, but I’ve never been one for this kind of scene. Plus I leave Gotham in a few days.” 

“Desperate to get out here?” 

“You could say that.” 

“Who are your parents?” 

She raised an eyebrow, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” If this was the game he wanted to play she would play it. Trying to find out who she was by asking about her parents, real subtle. Well Mr. Hot shot, she’s letting Stompp take the wheel now.

“You know, you make trying to have a conversation pretty hard.” 

She rolled her eyes at him, not even trying to stop them from rolling, “Who says I wanted this conversation?” It was a rhetorical question. She turned to leave only for him to grab her wrist. 

Suddenly she was brought back to that night. The night that changed everything. Three pieces of jewelry in her hand, two brooches one ring, her earrings 2 beeps away from her transformation leaving her. 

A pale hand holding her wrist, keeping her from running away. Green eyes and blond hair belonged to the owner of the hand. 

It had happened too fast. One second she was getting ready to run and detransform. Then someone had stopped her, she turned around to meet hungry green eyes. She froze as she felt lips pressed onto her own. It was only the beeping of her earring that brought her back to reality. A knee to the groin, and she pushed him off of her. Letting the police deal with the trio as she fled. 

She turned to the owner of the tan hand that was holding her back and could only register green eyes. She wouldn’t stand still this time. She twisted her hand so that he was forced to let go. A knee to the stomach had him holding his gut and as she raised her arm ready to punch him was when she finally registered that this wasn’t Adrien. It was just some weird stranger who was persistent in getting past her walls. 

She could hear people talking around her and when she dared to glance around they were all staring. She forced the embarrassed blush that wanted to grace her cheeks down, she wasn’t 13 anymore, she was 16 god damnit! Locking eyes with the mysterious yet persistent guy again, she ran. Ran until she found herself on a balcony, the cold air brushing her face as she gripped the railing. 

Why did she react like that? Why did she always have to be so aggressive? Why couldn’t she just let go of the past and take this damn nose ring off so she didn’t have to go and do stupid shit like this?  Why couldn’t she just be normal and let people in? 

Oh yeah, because she had a bunch of shitty friends that all turned on her because of a liar. The same liar turned her already neglectful parents against her. So Jagged and Penny got custody of her in order to get her out. Her parents didn’t even put up a fight about it, too busy gushing about precious LILA! And now she has major trust issues despite wanting to open and trust people again. Man, she is a wreck. 

“Hey, are you out here?” The mystery guy spoke from the entrance of the balcony. 

“No, I’m not.” She didn’t see the point in not acknowledging him, he could probably see her from where he was standing. 

“I’m sorry about earlier, you were obviously uncomfortable and I pushed your limit. So I really am sorry.” He apologized. 

“Yeah, sorry about kneeing you in the stomach. I thought…” She cut herself off, she didn’t need to pour her whole life story out to a stranger. He probably didn’t even want to know either. 

“It’s okay, I deserved it.” He made his way to the railing, he was a good distance away that she still had her own space, but close enough they could still talk. She relaxed a little thanks to the distance, resting her elbows on the railing. He leaned his back against the railing. They stood there in silence and Marinette decided she wouldn’t mind seeing this mystery boy again. Wait she didn’t even know his name. 

It seemed like he had the same thought since he spoke up, “I don’t think we ever introduced ourselves.” 

“We didn’t.” Damn her being so cold, she should probably take this nose ring off. So that’s what she did, took the nose ring off and placed it in her purse. Maybe this would be good for her. 

“Well, I’m Damian Wayne.” He stated, holding his hand out to shake. 

“Wait, Wayne as in Bruce Wayne? As in the Ice Prince of Gotham?” She questioned, shocked. 

“Oh, so you’ve heard.” He seemed a bit disappointed. 

“Yeah, but I won’t judge if you don’t judge.”

He raised an eyebrow at that before she continued, “My name is Marinette Rolling-Stone.” Now he looked surprised. 

“You're the elusive Diamond Stone?” He asked, disbelief made its way into his voice. 

“That’s what they’re calling me now. At first it was Sapphire Stone. Guess that’s what happens when I stay out of the media too long.” She chuckled a small smile making its way onto her face. 

“Wait, where did your nose ring go?” He looked around as if expecting it to magically appear. 

“I took it off.” 

“Why?” 

“Well at first I wore it to scare people off. People are scared of people that have piercings. I was thinking of getting a tattoo but I’m too young and they’re too permanent.” 

“Why would you want to scare people off?” 

“I have a complicated past. Sometimes putting your trust in someone takes too much risk, I tried to avoid it altogether.” She pulled her sketchbook as she wrote something down.

“Tried?” 

“Why do you think I’m talking to you?” She tore the paper out.

“You're putting your trust in me?” 

“No.” She quickly answered, “But maybe one day.” She handed him the paper and left. 

As she walked away she released a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding. Maybe giving people a second chance wouldn’t be such a bad thing. But right now she just needed to find her parents so she could head home. 

-

Damian hated galas. He hated having to talk to the stuck-up rich folk who thought they were better than everyone just because of their wealth. The girls who would try and flirt with him in order to gain his last name. And their parents who tried to push them together. 

Yes, he definitely hated galas. What made this worse was that his family wouldn’t stop teasing him about the girl who he knocked over that one time. Threatening bodily harm did nothing but amp up the teasing. It was times like this where he truly wished there was a not a no kill rule. If only to give Jason Todd some revenge. 

2 hours into the gala and he was already done. 4 girls had already tried to drape themselves over him and it took all his self-control not to hurt them. He was ready to storm out of this gala when he caught sight of her. 

The mystery girl he had bumped into days before. She was here, at a Wayne gala. Her outfit certainly looked the part of a rich socialite, She wore a long halter dress that flared out at the waist. It started out black at her neck before turning purple at the waist. The bottom of the dress had black music notes dancing across and she had a matching black and purple purse hanging off her shoulder. 

Her hair was down and she seemed to be wearing a little bit of makeup. The only reason he was able to tell it was her was because of the black nose ring that stood out against her fancy look. It looked so out of place compared to everything else. 

He watched as a man tried to approach her only to receive the same glare he had gotten days before, quickly moving on to someone else. Seems like he wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to be here. 

He made his way over to her, perhaps to give himself a second chance at a new impression. She proceeded to pull out her phone and look at something before deflating the tiniest bit. 

He cleared his throat to grab her attention, she looked at him with the same glare once again before her eyes took on a look of shock. 

“You.” She seemed surprised that she had stated this as well. 

He couldn’t help the smirk that spread on his face, she remembered him and still had the same spunky attitude, “Me.” 

Her features took on a look of boredom, but her eyes looked only curious yet cautious, “What are you doing here?” 

The fact that she didn’t recognize him as a Wayne was surprising. He thought that she was only in a hurry before that’s why she didn’t register it was him, but now he knew she truly didn’t know it was him. Perhaps he could use this to his advantage. “I’m always invited to these things, I’ve never seen you before though.” 

“With any luck this will be the last time you see me.” She said it with such confidence he felt inclined to believe. It was strange. He seemed to be the last person she wanted to talk to and yet he still wanted to talk to her. He didn’t want her to leave. So the next best thing is to get answers.

“Why would you say that?” 

“These types of things,” She waved her hand around to motion to the room, “Just aren’t my thing. My parents make it look so easy, but I’ve never been one for this kind of scene. Plus I leave Gotham in a few days.” 

Well that sucked for him. “Desperate to get out here?” 

“You could say that.” 

“Who are your parents?” Maybe he could try to get his father to arrange a meeting with them.

She raised an eyebrow, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” Nevermind. 

“You know, you make trying to have a conversation pretty hard.” He didn’t mean to say that, that was rude. 

She rolled her eyes at him, it looked like he was meant to see that, “Who says I wanted this conversation?” She turned to leave, but he grabbed her wrist. He didn’t want her to go just yet. He felt her freeze then tense when he touched her, her breathing became a little more forced, and she seemed to shake a little. 

Suddenly she twisted out of his grip and kneed him in the stomach. She raised her arm and looked ready to punch him. Her eyes looked far and distant and afraid. They seemed to refocus on him as she dropped her arm and glanced around the room. Of course, people were talking about them.

She locked eyes with him once more before running. He ran after her before his path was blocked off by Dick Grayson. “Damian what-” He didn’t get to finish that question as he dashed passed him, determined not to lose the one girl who wasn’t a stuck up brat. 

He thought he had lost her but then he heard someone taking deep breaths from out on one of the balconies. He was about to go up to her, but from the way she reacted to his sudden hold on her arm earlier, it was probably best to give a warning. “Hey are you out here?” 

He walked out onto the balcony. “No, I’m not.” She likely didn’t want to talk to him. 

“I’m sorry about earlier, you were obviously uncomfortable and I pushed your limit. So I really am sorry.” He apologized. Which was so unlike him because here Damian Wayne was apologizing to a stranger. The weird things she made him do. 

“Yeah, sorry about kneeing you in the stomach. I thought…” She cut herself off, it looked like she wanted to say more but wasn’t going to. 

“It’s okay, I deserved it.” He walked over to the railing, making sure he was a good distance away that she had her own space, but close enough so they could still talk. She seemed to relax a little thanks to the distance, resting her elbows on the railing. He leaned his back against the railing. He quite liked the silence, her company was nice. Oh god he didn’t even know her name.

“I don’t think we ever introduced ourselves.” 

“We didn’t.” She stated in what he was pretty sure was a cold tone. Maybe she wanted to stay mysterious, so he would just introduce himself. 

“Well, I’m Damian Wayne.” He held his hand out to shake. 

“Wait, Wayne as in Bruce Wayne? As in the Ice Prince of Gotham?” So she recognizes the name, not the face. Great.

“Oh, so you’ve heard.” 

“Yeah, but I won’t judge if you don’t judge.” Why would he judge her?

He raised an eyebrow at her before she continued, “My name is Marinette Rolling-Stone.” 

“You're the elusive Diamond Stone?” He asked, disbelief accidentally made its way into his voice. He couldn’t help it. She was claiming to be the adoptive daughter of famous Jagged and Penny Rolling-Stone. The girl that made Jagged’s stage outfits from scratch and managed to get the ferocious Fang, Jagged’s pet crocodile, to love her. The media could only ever get a hold of the back of her head, but those that had talked with her said she shined as bright as a diamond. Hence the nickname, Diamond Stone.

“That’s what they’re calling me now. At first it was Sapphire Stone. Guess that’s what happens when I stay out of the media too long.” She chuckled, a small smile had made its way onto her face. Sapphire Stone, he hadn’t heard of that nickname but he could always do some stalking research. That’s when he noticed. 

“Wait, where did your nose ring go?” He looked around trying to see if it had fallen off her face and she hadn’t noticed.

“I took it off.” 

“Why?” He was truly baffled. 

“Well at first I wore it to scare people off. People are scared of people that have piercings. I was thinking of getting a tattoo but I’m too young and they’re too permanent.” 

“Why would you want to scare people off?” That seems like something he would do.

“I have a complicated past. Sometimes putting your trust in someone takes too much risk, I tried to avoid it altogether.” She pulled out what looked like a sketchbook as she wrote something down. Wait what did she mean by ‘complicated past.’

“Tried?” 

“Why do you think I’m talking to you?” She tore the paper out of the sketchbook.

“You're putting your trust in me?” He asked, she didn’t seem like the type to trust people quickly.

“No.” She quickly answered, he thought so, “But maybe one day.” She handed him the paper and left. As he looked down at it he saw it was her number. There was a message attached below ‘My number. Maybe we can meet up somewhere before I leave.’ He certainly wanted to take that opportunity. 

He tucked the paper into his pocket and made his way back to the gala only to be met with his annoying family. By the curious look in their eyes they wanted to know what just happened. This was not going to be fun to explain. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hi, I have not disappeared, just didn’t want to write for prompts 8-11. I was honestly going to do prompt 8 but then stuff came up and I didn’t have the time to write. I was also planning to write something for tomorrow’s prompt but then I found out I have something I need to do tomorrow so nothing for tomorrow either. Because I had a specific thing I wanted to write for tomorrow I’m changing it to fit day 14′s prompt. Which means it’s not going to be mega angsty like I originally thought was gonna be 14. You have escaped mega angst and now it will only be medium angst. 

On another note that was a bitch to write and edit. And the fact I had originally planned to write more for it baffles me. I feel like I left it kind of open ended so if you want a part 3 to what I have going on here go ahead and tell me. I’m still trying to decide if I should do a part 3 yet. For those who are confused today was a part 2 to day 6′s prompt, miraculous side effects. Go to my master list and you can find it. 

You can also see on my master list that there are days that are crossed off, which means I won’t be doing those days. I can’t do every single day if I want to still get decent grades. Why I skipped days 8-11. Sorry for that long explanation/rant. Also sorry for posting so late again. I do these things all the way to the last minute. Let’s see if I can break that habit throughout the month. Probably not but a girl can hope. Anyways hope you enjoyed. 

@maribatmarch-2k21 @birdiesthings @buginetye 

[yslkook]

sonder

pairing: taehyung x reader (exes au) summary: sonder: the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own. or

“What am I about to say?”

“That nothing has worked out for you since we dated, because even though the women you date are all wonderful, all you see in them is me,” You exhale, “I might have to kick you out if you say something as predictable as that.”

word count: 3459 warnings: alcohol, smut (penetrative sex, oral f receiving, tae is possessive for like half a second, some tears) a/n: inspired by these pictures of taehyung. also if this feels rushed, that was on purpose- i wanted to make them kinda messy 

Your second whiskey of the evening burns something bitter in the back of your throat, but you welcome it. It’s a welcome respite from the shitty week you’ve had, but that’s besides the point.

One of your favorite things to do to unwind after a tough week is to people watch, and one of your favorite places to do so was at the bars near your apartment. You liked to create vivid stories for these people that walked through the bar- who they were, what their backstories were. It was an amusing game to you, and even if both Yoongi and Hobi told you that you needed a better hobby, you’d only scoff at them.

Speaking of, Yoongi was supposed to be joining you soon. But apparently he’s running late. About fifteen minutes late, according to his cryptic text from earlier:

yoongi: running late, im bringing a friend

You think nothing of it, not really. And you just sip on your whiskey, watching a pair of new faces walk through the door from your stealthy booth in the corner of the bar.

You should’ve known that when Yoongi had said he was bringing a friend, it meant Taehyung. You briefly remember Yoongi telling you that Taehyung had moved back to the city a few weeks ago.

Taehyung, who had moved away halfway across the world years ago as a novice in the art history world. Taehyung, who had broken your delicate heart and taken pieces of it with him more than five years ago.

But even so, you harbor no ill feelings towards the man. He did what he had to do, and you did as well. It’s been so long now, that he should almost be a stranger to you. 

Yoongi watches the way your lips part in surprise at the sight of Taehyung- he knows there are still lingering feelings, maybe a lack of closure. Maybe something else that you don’t feel like discussing or diving into. You send him a hearty death glare his way but Yoongi ignores it.

You and Taehyung are nothing if not stubborn. Taehyung hasn’t stopped asking about you since he moved back to the city.

After all, you’ve hardly dated since Taehyung broke up with you. You had sincerely, genuinely believed that he was your one and only, your forever. It just hadn’t felt right, not with anyone else. So you just stopped, not wanting to force love with people if your heart really wasn’t in it.

And now, Taehyung is standing in front of you, dressed in expensive black from head to toe, looking as if he had just walked off of the runway before meeting up with Yoongi. His hair is longer than you ever remembered it being, two small silver hoops in his ears.

Handsome. He looks healthy and warm. He looks good.

You clear your throat and wave at both of them, opening your arms for a hug. Yoongi’s hug is brief, you see the man at least once or twice a week, but you pinch his waist for ambushing you like this. You gasp softly when Taehyung wraps his arms around you. You’d apparently forgotten how his body just fits into yours. Even after all this time.

It truly hasn’t been that long, but it feels like it.

“Hi,” Taehyung breathes into your hair. You should pull away, you really should. You can’t even meet Yoongi’s eyes, too bewitched by the hold that Taehyung somehow still has on you. 

You feel as though your heart is running a mile a minute, and yet it feels like you’re greeting an old friend after a long time. 

“Taehyung,” You say softly, his name sounding like a ghost of a memory, “It’s been a long time.”

You sit in your booth and Taehyung sits next to Yoongi. It feels like three old friends catching up after a while, not like if two exes are sitting with their mutual best friend trying not to catch glimpses of the other.

You take a sip of your drink with shaky hands. It’s going to be a long night.

At some point during the evening, Yoongi claims that Hoseok has an emergency and that he has to go. You think he planned this (both him and Hobi), because there’s a meddling glint in his eye that you haven’t seen recently.

You panic, scrambling to somehow get Yoongi to stay, so that you’re not alone with Taehyung. You’re afraid of what you might do or say. Or for what you might not do or say.

And yet, talking to him comes like second nature. Maybe it’s because you have years of history between the both of you, even if you haven’t spoken in the last five.

It hurt so much. When he broke up with you, you mourned the loss of your best friend. He had said you could try to be friends, but you couldn’t handle it at the time. And then more time went by… and suddenly, he was barely a thought in your passing mind. Yet, he still lingered, in your mannerisms. Maybe some part of you was still waiting on him. Which wasn’t healthy… But it wasn’t hurting anyone. And besides, you were okay. But you had never really believed in soulmates until Taehyung. Perhaps it was the lack of closure. 

At least that’s what you convinced yourself, because seeing Taehyung like this, laughing and talking to you as if no time has past throws you for a loop.

Mainly because… it’s so easy to fall into conversation with him. It’s so easy to laugh with him and make him laugh. You enjoy learning about everything he’s been up to over the last few years, all of his adventures, the sights he’s seen. How enthusiastic he is, how he finds beauty in everything.

You both had always been such good friends. Maybe that’s what you miss more than anything. Somehow, hours go by and you both are left to be the only ones in the bar-

“Hey what brought you here to begin with?” Taehyung asks, holding the door open for you, “Had a bad day? You still like people watching?”

“Yeah,” You say wistfully, “Something like that.”

He squeezes your shoulder in reassurance. You catch his eyes in the streetlights and feel your heart swell.

Even if it’s been more than five years since you saw Taehyung last, since you felt his fingers thread in between yours… it still feels so familiar. It’s funny, isn’t it? How so much time can go by, how you can be strangers on paper but feel like you’ve known his soul for this entire time.

His smile glows in the moonlight. A light breeze cradles him, carding through his dark strands of hair gently. You can vividly recall a time when it was you- your fingers running through his hair through soft laughs and unkept promises.

You wonder if your heart is still his, after all this time. It’s not as if you’ve had many people to compare your all-consuming five year relationship to in the last few years. Every person you met, you found yourself comparing to your ex-boyfriend. It wasn’t healthy.

And you had known that he had moved on from your own mutual friends. You don’t even know if he’s single right now, but you knew he was in a relationship a year ago… Or maybe two? Maybe you should care a little more, but you’ll blame it on the whiskey for causing you to squeeze his hand a little harder and lean into him.

Taehyung looks exactly the same, he feels exactly the same as he did when you were twenty-two and stupid enough to believe that you would make it. He’s always felt like he fit the messy edges of your soul perfectly, and even now, you feel that familiar warmth of his soul rubbing up against yours.

Even as he’s chatting away, eyes crinkling in genuine happiness, you’re hardly listening. You’re only thinking about how nice he feels next to you. 

Serendipity. It must be serendipity, for him to show up in your life again when you had been teetering on the edge of misery and self-deprecation. Your head is jumbled, brain filled with nothing but sweet memories of him and your heart is aching for something you might never have again.

But all you have is now. So when Taehyung twirls you easily and sways with you under the dimmed light of a street lamp, pulling a surprised laugh out of you, you make your decision.

“Where’s your new big girl apartment?” Taehyung asks, a hint of longing in his tone.

“It’s not new,” You scoff, “But I live, like, five blocks away.”

Taehyung takes your hand in his again, asking you questions about your apartment. How you found it, do you like it, do you have roommates. To which you shrug and tell him that you like being alone. Something shifts in his eyes, something sad. He recalls your thirst for life when you both had been together- always ready to try something new, always wanting to be around people, always dreaming with your head in the sky.

He wonders what changed. You’re so quiet, eyes a little dark, shoulders tense. Maybe that’s what growing up is. Maybe that’s what tumbling out of your early twenties and into your late twenties is.

Or maybe you’ve just changed in general. It’s been a long time, after all. Since you both mutually broke up, since he moved halfway across the globe. 

But still, he catches sparks, flutters of embers in your gaze. He catches the tender, playful excitement that you’ve always held near and dear to your heart- it’s what made you and him such a good team years ago.

Talking to him is so easy, not that you thought it would be difficult to begin with. It’s always been easy with him, easy to laugh with him, easy to love him. 

The front door of your apartment building comes into view. Your hand is still in his. Taehyung hesitates on letting you go, but he does.

“It was nice to see you,” Taehyung murmurs, allowing himself the brush of the back of his hand on your cheekbone, “I mean it.”

“Yeah. I’m glad I ran into you, too. Even if I was stuffing my face with whiskeys,” You grin and lean into his touch, “Even if Yoongi probably played both of us.”

“Don’t know when you became such a whiskey girl.”

“It’s been years, Taehyung. I’m sure I’ve got a few more surprises for you,” You say, smile falling into something more intense, “Wanna come find out what they are?”

“Thought you’d never ask, sweetheart.”

Taehyung’s lips are on yours the minute you close the door to your apartment. His hands are molded to your hips over your clothes and you instantly moan into his mouth loudly, slipping your tongue past his lips eagerly. Drinking him up as if he’s been yours to drink up this entire time.

You fumble with the buttons of his peacoat, nearly ready to yank the buttons off. Patience has never been your strong suit, but you just want to feel him. 

But the minute you pull away for air, you re-center yourself. No matter how enticing his bitten lips are…

“Are you single?” You ask bluntly.

“Why?” Taehyung says with an arch of his stupidly perfect eyebrow, “You falling in love with me again?”

“Shut up, you wish. I thought you had a girlfriend,” You say pointedly, toeing out of your heels and hanging your jackets up in the coat closet.

“You keeping tabs on me? I knew it,” Taehyung says, looking a little too smug about it.

“Shut the fuck up,” You swat his chest, “Yoongi may have mentioned it to me once or twice.”

More like he told you multiple times when you were drunk, wasted and crying over Taehyung because you never truly got over him. In some corner of the deepest part of your heart, you never got over him.

“I’m not dating anyone. Or talking, seeing anyone,” Taehyung shrugs, “That didn’t work out. Nothing’s really worked out, not since…”

“Don’t say it,” You mutter, “Don’t say what I think you’re about to say.”

You need another drink. So you pour yourself another hefty glass of whiskey and pour one out for him, too.

“What am I about to say?”

“That nothing has worked out for you since we dated, because even though the women you date are all wonderful, all you see in them is me,” You exhale, “I might have to kick you out if you say something as predictable as that.”

“And if it’s true?”

“Then I’m definitely kicking you out. Might need another five years to see you again,” You whisper. He moves closer to you, tentatively holding your hips in his. You don’t push him away, only looking up at him with wide eyes.

“I missed you so fucking much,” Taehyung breathes into your hair, wrapping you in a hug, “You have no idea. And you? Are you single?”

“No, you missed the idea of me. Of us,” You mumble, but you’re unable to pull out of his hold, “We were young, we had dreams… And yeah, I’m single.”

“We could’ve made it work-”

“Taehyung, stop it,” You mutter, throat going dry with barely concealed yearning for him, “We both made the choices we made for a reason. You’re here and I’m here for a reason. Don’t wanna talk about what if’s with you anymore. Just kiss me, Taehyung-”

Taehyung doesn’t need to be told twice, cupping your face in his big hands and pressing his soft lips to yours instantly. Time feels like nothing between you both, but it feels like he’s trying to learn this new version of you through your kiss. 

You’re undecided on whether this is a one time thing, but all you know is that you want him. And you want him now. His hands are warm over your thighs as he lifts you up in his arms, your chest plastered to his. His hair has gotten longer, dark strands effortlessly falling into his forehead.

He’s so handsome and you swoon when his lips press against your neck. Taehyung still remembers what you like, what your favorite spots are.

It’s almost as if no time has passed. You both ignore it, ignore the nostalgia creeping into the crevices of your kisses.

“Mmm, my bedroom’s that way,” You mumble hoarsely, pulling away with hooded eyes. 

“You’ll have to give me a proper tour later,” Taehyung says, his voice somehow even deeper.

“Yeah, you’d be so lucky,” You snort and Taehyung shuts you up with another searing kiss. He doesn’t miss the meticulous way you’ve decorated your cozy home, pops of color and decorations that are so very you in every corner. He sees a small photo collage in the corner of your bedroom. 

Once upon a time, a photo of you and him would’ve been the crown jewel.

“Tae,” You mumble, “Stop, focus on me. I want you-”

So he does.

Your legs close around Taehyung’s head, his tongue slipping into your glossy folds for the third time that evening. He can’t get enough of your soft noises, even when you’re telling him it’s too much, you widen your legs for him to slot in between them easily. Taehyung hikes your legs over his shoulder, nearly rutting into the bed at the sight of your quivering bottom lip and the way your tits bounce.

He palms you lewdly, squeezing and pinching.  “You’re so wet,” Taehyung moans into your pussy, “Fuck, baby-”

“Taehyung,” You breathe, voice sounding broken even to your own ears, “I want you, I want your cock…”

“You sure you want this?” Taehyung asks, his voice strained.

“Yeah,” You nod eagerly, “Do you?” 

With a nod, “Do you have condoms?” He rasps, nose nudging your clit.

“Y-yeah,” You moan, “The nightstand, first drawer. Brand new box, never before used-”

“Really?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow, “When was the last time, baby?”

“The last time what,” You whine, tugging on his forearm.

“Last time you had sex,” Taehyung says, pulling the box out from your nightstand. 

“Uhhh… when you broke up with me?” You shrug sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Shit,” He groans, “Seriously?”

You don’t miss how he palms himself over his pants at your words. He’s always had a hint of possessiveness in him, and you already know that he’s trying to process that the last person, the only person to have ever seen you like this was him.

“Yeah, I didn’t have luck the way you did, I guess,” You say lightly, “Not that I was trying very hard, though.”

“Damn, baby, nobody’s been loving you right, huh?” Taehyung says, pulling out a condom from the box with shaky hands.

“Yeah. Not even you,” You say. Maybe that was mean, but his eyes flash at you in warning.

“Come here,” He says, a soft demand, “Did you miss me?”

You shrug playfully and unbutton his pants for him. He swats your roaming hands away and they land on his belly, your nails scratching lazily. Taehyung has always looked like a vision, but seeing him like this, hovering above you with golden, tanned skin and his jaw locked, looking every bit like the man of your dreams...

He commands, demands respect. Your pussy throbs just from the sight of him shucking off his pants and his boxers in one go, tugging his hard and heavy cock roughly with one hand.

You swear you drool. Your head is empty, only thoughts of him, his big hands, broad shoulders-

“Did you miss me, baby,” Taehyung asks again, voice a little rougher, a little harsher.

“Does it matter,” You challenge him, “You only want my pussy-”

“And you only want my cock-”

“So give it to me then. Since you know me so well,” You sneer. You gasp in surprise when he swats your thigh and then moan his name when he pushes the head of his cock into you without much warning.

“You talk so fucking much,” Taehyung breathes, cupping your cheeks with one hand.

“Shit,” You gasp, “You’re so fucking big-”

You squeeze your eyes shut and Taehyung stills inside of you, giving you time to adjust to him. He peppers sweet kisses over your forehead, a contrast to his previous words. You cannot believe that somehow, Taehyung is back in your bed, his cock buried deep within you. 

The thought makes your eyes water. You’re a little overwhelmed.

“What’s wrong,” Taehyung asks when he sees your wet eyes, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Nothing, you’re just so big,” You mumble, avoiding his eyes. Taehyung looks at you suspiciously but says nothing.

He’s the only one who’s ever had you like this. The thought makes something in his belly flare, the urge to leave bruises on your welcoming hips and pound into your wet pussy growing and growing with each second.

But he doesn’t move, not until you give him the okay. Taehyung’s fingers are tight around your hips, loose around your neck, his lips plastered to any inch of skin he can reach. With the first rock of his hips into you, you wrap your legs around his waist and shudder in his arms.

He nuzzles your neck, chest plastered against yours. Your nails are tightly pressed into his biceps, surely leaving marks for tomorrow morning. Your soft cries of his name sound like sweet rapture, something he’s been searching for for years. Or something that he had and something he let go of.

And then he wonders how he ever spent the last few years not buried in your pussy, when you feel something like home to him.

“You know, I moved back here a few weeks ago,” Taehyung says, turning on his side to face you, hands gentle over your chest.

“Oh, I know. Yoongi and Hobi wouldn’t shut up about it. They really missed you,” You reply, not meeting his eyes.

“And you? Did you?” Taehyung asks again. You hesitate.

“Does it matter, Taehyung?” You mumble, brushing his hair away from his eyes, “Does it change anything?”

“It could. If you wanted it to,” He murmurs, pulling you into his chest. His fingers are light over your spine, but you scoff.

“Don’t say shit like that,” You sigh, pressing your hand to his face. 

He only laughs with his big, bright smile and pulls you in closer, kissing your forehead. “I can leave you know. If you want me to. If this is... weird.”

“I think we’re way past weird, Taehyung. If I wanted you to leave, I would’ve kicked you out by now,” You say easily and ignore the way his smile sends unfamiliar butterflies through your belly, “Go to sleep. I’ll decide if I wanna kick you out in the morning.”

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

First Aid

Pairing: Jaeden x Evans!reader

Summary: Jaeden gets his heart broken. You’re the one who picks up the pieces. Inspiration: this video with Jaeden to Gus Dapperton’s song First Aid. 

-

“Hey, have you seen Jae?” You asked your dad after making another loop around the first floor of the house. Your dad, pouring another beer for himself, shook his head and shrugged, glancing around the room. 

“He was talking to Jordan a minute ago, he took a call. Maybe he’s outside?” Your dad suggested. You nodded and went to try to find him, but he wasn’t outside, either. Then you realized he could have gone upstairs, where it was quiet, and walked around. 

You finally found him talking on the phone in the red LED lights in your hall bathroom, and even though you knew you shouldn’t, you listened.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He asked in a defensive tone. You knew him well enough to know that he was about to cry from the sound of his voice. “I’m not cheating on you! What the fuck? Why would you ever think I would do that to you? Why would you think I’m that person?” 

“Then who is she?” You heard the other voice ask. It was his girlfriend. His long distance girlfriend, who you’d only met once or twice as she came to visit. She was awful to him, borderline emotionally abusive actually, but you had always just kept your mouth shut because he seemed happy. Seemed. 

“She’s my co-star’s daughter,” he answered. He angrily stuck a hand in his pocket. “And she’s my best friend. And if you can’t handle that...” 

“The girl best friend. Great move, Jae. You know what? I’m just so done with you. I shouldn’t have agreed to this in the first place. I knew you’d cheat on me, it was just a matter of time.”

“I didn’t cheat on you!” He said loudly. You jumped at the sound of his voice. “God, fuck, you know that. But you’re right. I don’t want to be with someone who can’t trust me.” 

“Fine, then we’re done,” the girl said. She hung up the phone and a dial tone swept through the almost empty bathroom. You heard Jaeden sigh and you heard the unmistakeable sound of the phone slapping against the bathroom counter. Jaeden sniffled, muttering another fuck under his breath. 

“Who’s out there?” He asked finally. You walked a few feet into the doorway and sighed, nodding before he could even ask if you’d heard him. “How much did you hear?”

“Everything,” you responded. “I’m sorry.” He let out a huff as he realized he’d hit his phone hard enough to crack the screen protector. You watched as he retreated into himself, walking over to the tub and sitting down inside. It still smelled like your lavender body wash and a little bit like the vanilla and patchouli candle you’d lit in there earlier. The smells was comforting to him - you were comforting to him. 

“No, it’s...” He sniffled. “She wasn’t wrong, I guess.” You tilted your head a little, curious, and shut the door behind you. You locked it, too, and put your own phone on top of his on the counter. You turned and got into the tub, too, sitting down beside him. You sat a little far from him, but close enough that your shoulders were touching.

“But you weren’t cheating on her?” You half asked, half told him. 

“Not outright, but emotionally, I guess, I’ve been super distant and she knew that and she wasn’t wrong. I should’ve broken up with her before this happened. I feel like such a shitty person.”

“Yeah, but it took that conversation to realize it,” you shrugged. 

“I was all but cheating on her,” he said in a shaky voice. He shifted a little and put his head on your shoulder, crossing his arms against his chest. You braced yourself, squeezing your thumb in your fist until he let out a single sob. You released your thumb after that, feeling one of his tears drop onto the sleeve of your shirt. You sat there with him as he cried it all out. It was maybe ten or fifteen minutes and you didn’t say a single word. You just reached one of your hands to his back and rubbed it up and down, trying to make him feel a little better. 

“I feel like such a piece of shit,” he finally sniffled. “Like, I was basically doing what she said, I was basically cheating on her, and I promised... I always promised myself I could never, ever do that to anyone. And I did.” 

“With who?” He didn’t answer for a second, but he looked up at you and you knew. He didn’t have to say anything, but he did.

“You,” he said as he blinked back more tears. 

“What?” You were in shock; it was like the world closed in on you for a second before the flood gates opened again and let in everything you’d ever felt about him, and you realized that yeah. You two were...

“Tell me you don’t feel like we’re closer than we should be,” he said. “I’ve literally slept in your bed. You call me every time you get home from my place because you know that I’ll freak out if you don’t tell me you got home safe. You literally buy me coffee all the time, we... We’ve cuddled a million times.”

“Not since you’ve been with her, because that would be...”

“Actually cheating.”

“But we haven’t.”

“But we may as well because I’ve literally felt the way I should feel about her for you. It’s you. It’s always been you and I don’t know whether I’m just seeing that now or I’ve known for a while, but I am, and I have, and... I’m not making any sense.” His voice trailed off. “And you’re sitting with me in a bathroom in the tub because I’m crying.”

“Friends...”

“Friends don’t look at each other the way I know we do.” Your hand stopped on his back and he sat up, looking at you for the first time that night. He was right - friends don’t look at each other the way he was looking at you and you knew you were looking at him. Another tear fell from his cheek and you wiped it away without a single second thought. At the same time, he moved toward you and your hand anchored itself on his cheek. 

He kissed you. His skin was baby soft underneath your hand. His lips had ridges in them because of the salty snacks he’d eaten a few minutes ago. But you kissed him back, pulling him lightly toward you as your fingers moved on his cheek. You felt a tear as salty as his lips on the tip of your finger. And then you realized what you were doing and you pulled away, leaving him more confused than ever.

“Jae,” you muttered. “You’re so messed up right now. Are you sure you’re even...”

“Yes, I’m serious,” he cut you off. “Are you?” You nodded.

“Yes, but... We shouldn’t do this right now.” 

“You’re right.” You removed your hand from his cheek and put it on his shoulder, looking at him in the red lights. “I’ll come pick you up tomorrow morning. We should talk.” 

“Sounds good,” you nodded. “I’ll, um, leave first.” You stood up, sniffling, not realizing you had been about to cry too. You walked out of the bathroom after grabbing your phone and went across the hall to your room. Your face was hot from the kiss, your hand still shaking. You sat in your room for the rest of the night, resisting the urge to text your best friend. 

The next morning came and he picked you up, as promised, knowing that you always woke up early on Saturdays because you were used to waking up early during the week. The cold bit at your cheeks and your nose and your ears as you sat with him outside of the coffee shop in downtown Boston that you’d showed him when you first met. You didn’t know what to say, and he didn’t either. He ran his hand through his platinum-dyed hair and sniffled, wiping his runny nose with his jacket sleeve. 

“I’m sorry about last night,” he said. “That was a lot to put on you.”

“You weren’t wrong, though,” you responded. He didn’t say anything right away. Instead he put his arm behind your shoulder, sighing and crossing one of his legs over the other. 

“Yeah, but I shouldn’t have sprung that on you. And I shouldn’t have made you...”

“I kissed you back, Jaeden, what don’t you get about that?” You snapped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” 

“No, it’s fine. You’re right. You did kiss me back. So our friendship is effectively ruined.” That made you smile a little bit - the first time you beat his ass in Mario Kart he’d said the same thing. 

“How ruined?” You asked. He took a second. 

“Bad enough that all I can think about is kissing you again.” You smiled, and so did he. “Bad enough that I know you’re the one I want to be with, and I was lying to my ex and myself by thinking you weren’t.”

“Did you talk to her?”

“Yeah. She’s not mad, she’s just...”

“Hurt?” Jaeden nodded. 

“But she said she knew, too.” 

“I think I did. Somewhere,” you said as you remembered the shaky, almost puppy-wag feeling you got whenever Jaeden walked in the room. “So what are we gonna do?” 

“I was thinking maybe I could beat your ass in Mario Kart. And then we can do this the right way and go out or something?” You grinned.

“Yeah. I’d like that. But you know I’m gonna beat you, right?” He chuckled, warmth returning to his cheeks and his eyes as he broke into a smile. 

“Never.” 

[divinebisexualgoddess]

So this is a lot closer to discourse than I like to get but I am so sick of people in our community supporting this woman.

If you’re lgb you should ansolutely care that she is a terf, you should actively care that when people tried to educate her on her transphobia (transmisogyny specifically) she doubled down and released an entire manifesto this summer. You should care that she annpunced a book the pther day about a man pretending to be a woman in order to assault cis woman as a way to demonize our trans sisters and commit microagressions (personally i think macroaggressions is a more apt description but you know terminology.

But even if you don’t care about the transphobia (you should what the fuck????) she is actively referring to herself as paychiatrist robert galbraith who experiemnted on gay people and actively put people through conversion therapy. She is referring to herself as a horrible human being who literally abused and tortured gay people.

I realize some of you dont give a shit about our trans siblings like you should, and you seek people who claim to be allies to us while demonizing our trans siblings like JK rowling did in her incoherent manifesto earlier this year where she talked about her “lesbian friends” and other women being harmed by trans women.

I know you like to prop these people up because they share your disgusting ideas, but the thing is a lot of these teansphobes are also homophobes lesbophobes and biphobes and the minute theyre done using you to make a point they will turn around and spit on you. You should give a shit that trans people are having violence thrown at them but even if you dont you should have the brains and the self preservation skills to realize these people dont give two shits about you and wouldnt acrually care if you faced violent homophobia/lesbophobia/biphobia.

edit: someone added these tags

I wasn’t aware this was the case when I initially made this post, so thank to the person who added these tags. This is absolutely important and should not be missed whatsoever.

On top of this the Harry Potter books are full of antisemitism. She perpetuates so much sexism in those books it is actually unbelievable that she would have the audacity to consider herself a feminist, she is also insanely racist, the only asian character in those books is names Cho Chang, which is a racist name white people have referred to asians as for a long time. And I’m sure the laundry list of other shitty things she’s done is long. Anyway she’s a shit person, and she should’ve been deplatformed a long time ago when she had much less money and power. She is just another rich cishet white woman that doesn’t give a shit about anyone who isn’t like her.

[agentjx7]

SO I wrote this massive post in the BCB discord explaining why I still like Paulo/Lucy, and at some urging I’ve edited it for tumblr!

Now, I could start off with a lot of talking about Paulo and Lucy’s personalities and why I think they’d mesh well together, but you’ve probably read the comic. You know the characters. I don’t think the argument “they don’t have chemistry” is even on the table. Instead, I feel like most people’s arguments about the ship are either “there are healthier/better ships for both of them” or “the Ferris Wheel scene and chapter 100 sink it.” So let’s talk about these arguments.

I am not going to be able to convince anyone who thinks that their ship is “better” than paulucy to switch sides, so let’s talk about healthier for a second. Paulo’s relationship with Daisy as it stands at the moment would doubtless get mired down by Daisy’s jealousy of Lucy. I’m not saying it couldn’t be good in the future, and both of them are developing in the directions that would make that easier, but at the moment I don’t think it’d be good. And as for Lucy? The number of healthy ships for Lucy is vanishingly small. I think it’s possible that her relationship with Paulo, if it started in the next chapter, would be healthy, but I also think they both need a little more work— and I think that they’re more likely to develop in positive ways together than apart!

Now, as for their recent arguments. I do not think Lucy is telling the truth during After You on the Ferris Wheel— at least, not the whole truth. She doesn’t feel like she can do a relationship at the moment, and she’s tired of watching Paulo (who she cares about deeply) hurt himself by waiting for her. This is compounded by the things she’s internalized from December and after: she feels like all she CAN do is hurt Paulo more, and that even if she starts dating him he’s only going to be doing it because he likes her appearance. Paulo might have proved MULTIPLE times that this isn’t the case, but she’s dealing with quite a bit right now and it’s very hard for her to see the positives in any of her relationships— Augustus excluded.

During the Ferris wheel ride she never actually can bring herself to tell Paulo outright that she doesn’t love him and that she’s incapable of loving him in the future. She does say that she’s sorry they couldn’t have been more in the past, but that’s because of her crush on Mike, a crush she’s slowly getting over. When he flat out asks her if there’s no way for her to love him she gives a non-answer and then changes the subject to the time they slept together, which she argues she only did because she thought she’d never see him again. I think this is true (and it was kind of a shitty thing to do), but Lucy isn’t giving herself enough credit OR Paulo enough agency here. Her goal during this whole conversation is to convince Paulo to move on from her, so she says a LOT of stuff that’s fairly hurtful. From her own admission, though, the reason she’s saying it all is because she thinks Paulo should move on, and that she’s not worth waiting for. That’s not her call to make. Unfortunately, as we see from their next conversation, all she really accomplished was ruining Paulo’s evening.

So now the big one, High Expectations. Paulo absolutely BLOWS UP at Lucy here, and a lot of people signaled it as the death knell for the ship. It definitely wasn’t our finest hour, but I maintain that there’s a couple little things in the scene that show that it’s still got stuff going for it. FIRST of all, Paulo flat-out says he loves Lucy. This one should’ve put the nail in the coffin of “ah Paulo doesn’t care about her because of the fair” argument, but on the NEXT page we get to the big one. Lucy says she didn’t come back for any of them, and Paulo asks the armor-piercing question: “Then why the fuck did you come back?”

This scene, this panel, is the FIRST time since Love Again that we see Lucy taken off guard by one of the members of the gang. It’s the only time her “I’m a cold hearted bitch now and I hate all of you” act really drops before she has her conversation with Sue a couple chapters later (It’s All in the Mind).

Paulo is the first person to REALLY get under her skin after she returns, and it’s pretty clear the things he says in this chapter stick with her. I could talk more about that, but for now let’s talk about Paulo and why he doesn’t mean the shit he says right here about how he’s Done With Lucy for real this time™️. First of all, Paulo is right up there with Mike and Lucy in terms of emotional outbursts— the main difference is that when he attacks people he just straight-up physically attacks them instead of tearing them down emotionally, and that it’s a coin flip whether he’s going to get angry with someone else or burst into emotional tears and start hating himself (because he’s one of the most empathetic emotional characters in the comic but I digress). He’s just seen Lucy, who’s keeping up the “I actually hate ALL of you now” act, with AUGUSTUS, who to his knowledge is the guy who tried to molest Daisy and nothing else. Robbed of the context of the situation, he feels like Lucy really hates them all so much that she’d rather hang out with the creep than them— than HIM— and that shit hurts. Why? Because he absolutely still loves her.

Paulo has also had an EXTREMELY rough day. One of his best friends just slammed his face into a lunch table. He’s still on rough terms with Abbey, even if Daisy’s party has assuaged some of these fears. He’s ALREADY ready to fall apart, and then THIS hits him like a train. It HURTS, so he lashes out and storms off.

Lucy realizes that she’s hurt him, bad, and that hurts her— but we don’t get to see that because Paulo and Mike are the focus of the chapter so we’re MOVING ON now, I’ll explain in a minute.

SO! During All in the Mind Lucy has another confrontation with her friends, leading to her blow-up with Daisy. BUT CRUCIALLY she’s on good terms with Sue again, and she starts to realize that she can’t keep hurting her old friends like this. This leads directly into her behavior in Witch Hunt, which is the next time we see the two of them interact. All she does is apologize to Paulo for potentially hurting him again with the dress— but this is a bigger moment than it might seem. In the earlier chapters after her return, Lucy would’ve pretended not to care that her actions could have hurt Paulo, but this time things are different! This is her reaching the olive branch out to him, as well as her genuine fear that she’s just hurt him again. Paulo assures her it’s no big deal, and then resumes casually flirting with her (in a friendly way!), something that she laughs with and clearly enjoys. When Daisy interrupts them they BOTH start blushing.

SINCE THAT POINT, the only chapter to feature the two of them significantly interacting is Unwanted Gift. Paulo happily takes part in the celebrations of Lucy’s birthday, which he DEFINITELY would not have done if he was still in the same mindset from High Expectations. Now, I can’t claim to know what’s going to happen after the most recent emotional missile salvo of a chapter, but I truly do believe the two of them are in a much better place than when Lucy first returned.

NOW, what evidence do I have that they really do still love each other? Admittedly, some of it is just my own gut feeling about the characters. Lucy leaving for the better part of a year didn’t put a damper on Paulo’s feelings. Being told “stop caring about me before you get hurt,” ESPECIALLY since Lucy can’t (or won’t) say “I don’t love you,” is not going to stop him.

As for Lucy? Well, there’s the inherent fact that Lucy didn’t just come out and say she didn’t like him and he had no chance. Lucy is often brutally honest, and she still chose to dodge the question when he asked. But Lucy still can’t bring herself to say she does love him, so if she’s so brutally honest, she must not, right? Well, no! One of Lucy’s major character flaws is that she can’t be fully honest with people, even when it would benefit them both. Admitting her true feelings is a specific area where that’s a problem— Lucy confessed she loves someone once before, and look how THAT went. Also on the BCB ship chart she’s still listed as having a crush on him and the chart came out in *checks notes* after Lucy came back so I’m hanging onto that for dear life

So, there you have it! My overdrawn explanation of why paulucy good, actually. Thank you so much for reading if you got this far! God I really love this comic waaay too much.

[lovelyirony]

Oh, can I please ask for one of your folklore prompts? “And I can go anywhere I want, anywhere I want/just not home” my tears ricochet  For a young Tony, maybe? It doesn't have to have a pairing if you don't want to. :)

A house and a home are different. Tony did not know this until he was in college, much to his surprise. 

A house is somewhere you live. A central place that you come back to in between visits to other people or places or countries or anything else. It is not personal. It is something you use until you no longer see the need or the desire. You can move to a lot of them. 

A home lingers. A home is where you smile late at night over drinks. It is where crumbs reside from last night’s takeout, and you spend lazy Sundays. 

(Tony also didn’t know what that was either.) 

He’s lived in a lot of houses. He has a lot of houses. There’s the one in New York that is looming and lonely and probably would be his least favorite except it’s in New York, which earns it its redemption. 

There is sunny Malibu with its beaches and great views. There are a few others. 

None of them are homes. It’s just a place to rest for a couple of months or a year or until Howard decides it’s not enough. 

He gets to MIT and gets a dorm room, same as everyone else. It is pitifully sad, he gets sun only in the mornings, and that sucks. He kind of hates it. He guesses that’s the college experience. 

He also has a roommate. Jarvis had told him it’d be good for him, and Tony had had to talk Howard out of about twenty-seven different legal documents that basically said “if you ever breathe a word of anything to anyone, you’re being legally sued.” 

James Rhodes. Literally studying to become a rocket scientist, has questionable taste in posters, and waves at Tony when they meet each other. 

“Call me Jim.” 

“...Jim. Are you eighty or something?” 

It’s probably the wrong thing to say. It definitely is the wrong thing to say by Jarvis’ raised eyebrows and down-turned frown. 

But James Rhodes takes it in stride. 

“You can call me something else if you want, but it has to be good and I have to approve it. Can’t be my last name, can’t be Jimmy. Anything else is fair game.” 

Different reaction. That’s...that’s weird. 

So Tony shrugs, smiles as Jarvis leaves, and realizes that he’s alone and Howard doesn’t really have an influence--except he does, god he does--and Tony asks James Rhodes if he’d like to get pizza. 

“You know anywhere with good pizza?” 

“Wanna find out if Hemingway’s is any good?” 

“It’s either going to be artisan hipster or the worst. Hell yes.” 

It’s artisan hipster. It is bad, and James laughs as he tells a story and burns his tongue when he’s reenacting his mother is chewing him out, using his full name, and: 

“Rhodey,” Tony gasps out. 

“I told you that you couldn’t use my last name!” 

“It’s technically not your last name, sugar plum,” Tony mocks, using one of his mother’s nicknames against him. “You are forever now Rhodey. Forever.” 

- 

From there, friendship progresses. Tony’s never actually had a real friend before, not that he tells Rhodey that. Besides, Rhodey probably knows. Tony just automatically assumes he’s paying for everything, and he’s not sure what to do with genuine affection for a couple of months. 

He looks at Rhodey with such love and affection. He does, really. Rhodey has created a whole new world for him. 

- 

And then, the holidays. 

Thanksgiving is Tony’s least-favorite-holiday for a variety of reasons. It’s all a fake kind of gathering. “Coming together to celebrate gratefulness” is the biggest goddamn crock of bullshit he’s ever cooked in his life, and for once his family isn’t doing a PR stunt, so his mother has announced that he’s welcome to be back home, but they won’t be there. 

Howard is taking Jarvis with him on a trip to England to visit Aunt Peggy and probably talk shop about Cap and ice and stupid fucking theories about the degree of alive he’ll be when he’s found. 

(When. What pretentious bullshit.) 

Tony doesn’t want to be alone in the house, because that’d suck shit and MIT would be better. At least he could make shitty ramen and cry and only get a noise complaint instead of one of the cleaning staff members saying that he probably needed therapy. 

“You are not staying in the dorms, what the fuck man,” Rhodey says. “You’re coming home with me.” 

“Now darling, I thought you said we weren’t going to be forward about this whole thing,” he purrs, putting on an old Hollywood accent. “Are you finally coming up and seeing me?” 

Rhodey rolls his eyes. 

“I’ll be as forward as I want,” he decides, and Tony wishes he wouldn’t say things like that, because that seriously get’s a man’s heart rising. “Besides, I told you that you need to have my Aunt Kendra’s rolls, and that’s a promise. So, Thanksgiving is now with the Rhodes’ family.” 

Tony doesn’t know if they know that he’s coming. He also doesn’t know the dress code, and Rhodey is absolutely no help. 

“What do you mean by casual?” Tony squawks. “Is it business casual? Dressy casual? Jeans casual?” 

“What do any of those mean?” 

“Oh my god, I’m going to look like a failure at this shindig. Your mother will die over her cooking because I’ll pull out of the wrong wardrobe and be a fool. I’ll die, and you’ll have to bury me, and you won’t even know which outfit I’ll want. God, this is going to--” 

Rhodey shuts him up, putting a hand over his mouth. 

“Just wear your red turtleneck and your dark jeans or whatever. That looks nice.” 

“You noticed?” 

“You don’t give me as much credit as I deserve,” Rhodey grunts. “Early wake-up on Monday. I’ll supply coffee as long as you give me gas money.” 

“I’ll give you anything for coffee. I’ll give you my hand in marriage for coffee.” 

“Don’t tempt me,” Rhodey teases. “I might actually do that.” 

God, I wish you would. 

- 

Rhodey’s house is a nice place, a wire fence bordering with a porch swing covered in a light dusting of snow, and swinging slightly with the wind that blows through the neighborhood. 

There are quite a lot of cars parked in the driveway and in the street, and Tony can see at least six people inside the house, which is more family than he actually knows on either side. 

It’s all warm and yellow, and Rhodey moves with an ease that Tony didn’t know happened outside of those cheesy family shows. 

He throws open the door and there are shouts of joy and happiness and “Jimmy-boy!” 

“I didn’t know Jimmy-boy was on the table,” Tony remarks dryly. “And here it’s been for months, Jimmy-boy.” 

Rhodey groans. 

“This is worse than Rhodey,” he mutters. 

A woman who could only be his mother steps forward, grinning. 

“Call me Mama, darling. And what’s this I hear about ‘Rhodey’?” 

“He burnt his tongue on pizza while telling me about a time he got a well-deserved talking-to by your own graceful words, Mrs. Rhodes,” Tony says. He’s charming. Oh, he’s very charming. 

She giggles. 

“I said mama, but I can’t say I’ll mind too much when you talk like that. Jim, you should’ve had us meet earlier.” 

“You see I would’ve, but I happen to value myself,” Rhodey says. 

“You do?” a man says. Mr. Rhodes, tall and a smile that could put any of the fake veneers in Hollywood to shame. “Could’ve fooled me.” 

Rhodey gets pulled into a hug, and he laughs, and Tony has the Distinct Memory that He’s Never Been Hugged by his Father. 

Well, isn’t this a time to realize family inadequacies! 

“Rhodey, light of my life, where am I setting up my suitcase?” Tony asks. 

“Come on up with me. We’re sleeping in my room, hope that’s alright.” 

It’s more than alright, and Tony smiles when he sees Rhodey’s room. 

He loves it. It’s decorated with model airplanes hanging from the ceiling, a peeling Star Wars poster that has most definitely been needed to be thrown away for more than five years (but won’t be), and a few trophies from soccer. 

Tony’s never had his own room decorated with anything but the current trends, his mother hand-picking his comforter and the decorations in his room. And they all say he’s so “fashionable” and “keeps an eye out for trends.” 

(Ha.) 

It’s odd for him to see a house look so...lived in. 

“Welcome home,” Rhodey says. “I haven’t grabbed it yet, but I’ll use a sleeping bag and you can take the bed.” 

Tony snorts. 

“No way, honeybee. I’m not kicking you out of your own bed. We’ve shared a bed before, this is no different.” 

"Only if you’re sure,” Rhodey says, smiling at him. “This is a bit different than both twin beds being crashed together because we wanted more space for the fridge.” 

“This time we don’t have the fridge,” Tony quips as Rhodey laughs. 

“Come on, let’s head downstairs. Mama’s probably gonna have us wash dishes or something. Maybe set up some more chairs.” 

What actually happens is that their laundry machine has gone rebel-mode, and is currently trying it’s best to fling the door open and spew laundry everywhere. 

“Shit,” Mr. Rhodes says, looking at it. “Another call to the repairman this month...” 

“He won’t get here until a week after Thanksgiving,” Mama says, sighing. “How much do you mind your jeans freezing up a bit?” 

He smiles a bit at his wife. 

-

Tony’s never seen that. But he likes it. 

-

“I can fix it,” he says. Family turns to him. This is all quite embarrassing. “I, uh, I’ve taken apart some washing machines before. I think I can figure it out, if you don’t mind me poking around.” 

“I wouldn’t mind a bit,” Mama says. “Jimmy, I like this one.” 

Rhodey rolls his eyes. 

“I’ll go get the toolkit for you. Need anything?” 

“Towels and you, honey-pie.” 

“You get one out of two of those options.” 

“You treat me like a vagrant,” Tony declares. Rhodey laughs as he heads to go get supplies. 

- 

The night goes on. People occasionally check in, and Rhodey assures them that it’s going well. 

“Instruction manuals are such bullshit,” Tony says. “Half the time they’re written by someone who doesn’t even know how to do it themselves. The other half, no one uses them.” 

“Well when you take over your company, write better instruction manuals,” Rhodey says. “Pass me a towel, things are about to get sudsy.” 

Forty-five minutes later, the washing machine is probably doing better than it was even at production, and Tony gets a kiss on the cheek and cheers all around him. 

“This calls for cookies,” Rhodey declares. “Tony, let’s go get some.” 

They sit at the kitchen table, and Tony learns so much about Rhodey’s family. He sees him laugh and relax and tell the funniest stories about when he was little and got stuck in a tree. 

-

It’s home. That’s how he finally understands it. Home where you keep on going long after, with people you love. 

He doesn’t have one of those.  

He thinks, maybe, that he could make a home of his own. Maybe he could have AC/DC posters lining a wall, or have the pictures of friends and vacation in the kitchen. 

And Rhodey would be there. For now, he’s going to enjoy his hot chocolate and try to get more embarrassing stories about his best friend from his family. 

[transraptortrainer]

Brooklyn unboxes Kenji's feelings about a certain fanny-pack-wearing, Anky-loving boy they know... Inspired by @theswampspirit 's post!

[FANFIC | Rated T for mild language. Spoilers for Camp Cretaceous S1!]

It was yesterday when they had found it. Footprints by the monorail, both that of small shoes and small dinosaur feet, trailed their way towards the main park. It was the first and only sign that their friend Ben had survived the attack by the pteranodons, and was still on the island with them. 

However, despite their optimism, the kids had yet to find anything else. Rainfall soon after had washed away what remained of the prints, and even then, they were at least a day behind Ben - wherever he was going.

From the south dock, they traveled north to the golf course and reluctantly decided to settle there for the night. Small buildings, parking lots for carts, and rest stops for golfers dotted the grassy plains here. Brooklyn and Kenji remained at a concrete building, keeping the fire going as Darius and the others searched for supplies in the surrounding shops. 

Brooklyn dipped a rag into a small creek and wrung it out slightly. Little bird baths like these were all the kids could manage so far. Unless they found some hot running water at the hotels in the main park, they wouldn't exactly be at their freshest until they were rescued. Not the greatest state of affairs, but "kinda clean" was better than "brachy-behind air quality". 

To her right, Kenji sat, exhausted by their long day of travel. Brooklyn thought about the kind of person she had assumed Kenji to be when they first met, and then compared that to who he ended up being. Sure, he was still a jerk, but only sometimes. Perhaps the most surprising change was how distraught the boy had been after the group had lost Ben. 

The fanny pack, previously dubbed "dork pouch", was tied around his waist, where it had been for days now. He never removed it. Even when Yaz offered to carry it instead, he refused to give it up. At first it was just...sad...it stood as a reminder that they had lost a friend. Brooklyn had wondered if she was the only one who was tired of looking at it and being reminded of the guilt. 

But then there was yesterday. Sammy had spied the prints in the ground and was tied with Kenji for being the first to utter the idea that Ben was still out there. Ever since then, Kenji seemed more like himself. More like everything was alright in his world. 

"You really do miss him, huh?" Brooklyn asked, airing her thoughts in the vaguest possible way.

"What?" Kenji replied, baffled. "No! Who are we talking about? I mean, what kind of monster wouldn't miss his friend-" 

Brooklyn watched speculatively as the boy floundered at the question. It was hilarious, honestly, because who wouldn't think that Kenji, the idiotically boastful yet resourceful smartass, struggling to respond to a simple question was funny? And let's be real, that use of "friend" felt all the more ridiculous as Kenji's hand instinctively rested on the fanny pack around his waist. 

Brooklyn raised an eyebrow and returned to wiping the dirt from her face and hairline. In the past day, the chance that Ben might still be alive felt so much greater. And on another note, it brought her a lot of guilt considering how quickly she assumed the frail, clumsy germaphobe hadn't made it. She had to hope that Ben's feelings wouldn't be hurt. But those signs they had found...it had to mean something. 

"I'm just saying, you've seemed in muuuuch better spirits since yesterday," Brooklyn replied, dragging her sneakers in the loose dirt and piling up a shapeless mound. "Out of all of us, I know you were the most...lost by what happened." 

Kenji scanned Brooklyn's face cautiously, some form of shock in his eyes. Maybe being raised a rich, only child with absent parents had something to do with it, but he always seemed so surprised by how well everyone read him. Maybe more so by the way no one took his bullshit for an answer.

"M-maybe," he finally said. He rubbed a palm against his neck, his brows furrowing. "Maybe!" he said again, seemingly just in case Brooklyn hadn't heard the first time. He looked at the ground, a smile coming across his face, but only briefly. "I wonder how he's doin' out there…" 

Brooklyn rinsed the towel in the stream before snapping it dry and laying it out flat on the rail. "If I know him, he's probably desperately searching for some sanitizer," she joked with a chuckle. 

"If he's not camped out by a log he also tripped on earlier!" Kenji retorted, and the pair's laughter echoed around the clearing, accompanied by the crackle of the fire. 

However, it wasn't long after that Kenji grew quiet yet again. Brooklyn could tell this was one of those rare moments where he actually thought before he spoke. Leaned over his knee, he propped his head up on his hand. "But I wonder if he thinks he's alone here…"

That's a lot of wondering he's doing, Brooklyn thought. She had half the mind to make a joke about him using his brain too much, but that kind of sarcastic reply seemed more like Yaz's territory. "C'mon, Kenji. If we didn't send help back from the mainland, there's no way his mother wouldn't have. He has to know that." 

Kenji nodded slowly, his thumb tapping the fanny pack yet again. "Plus he's got Bumpy, right? Anky-saurus-es or whatever are tough! Not tough enough to take the Indominus, but…" he added. 

"Right!" Brooklyn said with an affirming point of her finger. Whimsically, she plopped onto the concrete ledge across from Kenji and observed him more. 

Now, she didn't want to come off as too people-watch-y. That couldn't be good for the size of Kenji's head. He'd probably say something about how everyone looks to him for guidance or something else indicative of his constant attention-seeking behaviors. But even now, Kenji seemed well within his own mind. 

Still thinking about Ben, she decided. 

The two of them were pretty sweet together. Kenji liked to act like he wasn't a fan of Ben's cuddly and apprehensive nature, but surely he couldn't have hated it that much. Why? Because any good content creator knows when there's more than meets the eye. Maybe Kenji just needed a little push to make him realize. And Brooklyn was a master reporter, of course. If there was one thing she knew, it's that people love to talk about themselves.

"Ben's probably thinking of us too, don't you think? If he's out there, I mean," she began, tipping her chin up to look at the glimmering stars. "Maybe even thinking of you right now." 

Kenji stirred, a small, tired smile making its way into his voice. "What do you mean? After I was such a jerk to him, I kinda doubt it."

"Really?" Brooklyn turned back to him, surprised. 

Gesturing uncomfortably, Kenji seemed to regret his word choice. "Just that...you know, I yelled at him. Said that stuff about Bumpy." His voice trailed off with a surprising guilt. "I - we took him for granted, and it was...shitty of us."

Brooklyn nodded quietly. "Buuut, you also saved his life, you know. I think it's pretty clear that you made him feel safer," she stated warmly, pressing her hands together. 

Kenji shuffled awkwardly, keeping his eyes on the dirt. "You think so?" he asked, before quickly adding, "Not that it matters to me, obviously… Wait, did he tell you that?" 

Could he have been making it any more obvious? Brooklyn giggled, rolling her eyes. "You could call it intuition, or just common sense, seeing-things-because-I-have-eyes?" She lifted her legs onto the bench, laying with her back rested against the wall. "What do you think he'd be doing if he were here now, with us?" 

"Besides churning up some kind of dino baby food for Bumpy?" Kenji said plainly, raising a brow. "He'd probably be flinching at every little noise, just like the rest of us, and clinging to m-" he cut himself off, a first ever blush faintly hitting his cheeks.

"Bingo…" Brooklyn exclaimed quietly with a wink. "Which brings me back to my first question, Mister Kon. You miss him, don't you?" 

Kenji frowned. "If he was here clinging to my side, I'd obviously tell him to relax and let up his superhuman grip!" He paused, drumming his fingers on his knee. "Except I am kind of cold anyway, so if he wanted to sit with me then whatever."

"Soooo, you're telling me if we did find him," Brooklyn prodded. "You definitely wouldn't sweep him up in your arms and smile like the kid with the most candy bars on Halloween?" 

"No!" Kenji replied indignantly. A moment passed. "...Well. Ugh, don't rule it out, I guess. Should've known you were just trying to get me to admit something embarrassing…" 

She smiled softly, placing her hand on her chest proudly. "Well, Brooklyn is the name, annoying pestering is the game."

[365days365movies]

April 12, 2021: Mrs. Doubtfire (1992) (Recap)

Hey, Robin Williams. Been a while.

I’m sorry that I haven’t watched your movies for a while, and that I always skip your comedy stand-up when my phone’s on shuffle. I just...let me explain. Since I was a kid, you were one of my favorite entertainers. That might as well have started the day I was born, because...well, we share a birthday, fun fact. But it definitely continued with the first movie I ever saw in theatres.

While I don’t quite remember the first time I saw it, Aladdin was one of my favorite childhood movies, and I knew that you were the voice of the Genie from an early age. You might have actually been the first actor I ever knew by name. Which makes sense, because your stardom during the ‘90s was nearly unparalleled.

The next film I remember seeing (and hearing) you in was Ferngully: The Last Rainforest. That also starred Tim Curry, who would also be a major figure of my childhood. It also wasn’t the best movie, in hindsight, but it is the only time I’ve heard you rap since.

But eventually, I watched your forays into live-action, too. Jumanji, Hook, even the objectively bad Flubber, are all movies that I vividly remember watching during childhood. I was really excited for Flubber, even, and I LOVED Jumanji growing up. I liked Hook, too, but I appreciated that more as I got older.

Of course, during this time period, you also made less family-friendly films. The Fisher King, Good Will Hunting, Dead Poets Society, Good Morning Vietnam, and What Dreams May Come were all very successful, and cemented your reputation as an actor. I also haven’t seen any of them. In fact...I don’t think I’ve seen any of your dramatic roles, and that’s something that I’ll fix this year. Hell, in a few days, I’ll watch The Birdcage, another of your big hits of the ‘90s.

But why haven’t I seen them up to now? Well...I was going to watch these films, about seven years ago. But...I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it. Because it hurts. A lot.

I know that this is a downer, but my relationship with Robin Williams today is tainted by his tragic death. I was fucking BROKEN when his death was announced, and I really haven’t been able to watch him since. I’ve seen Aladdin recently, but that’s about all I could stand to watch. I mean, the guy shares a birthday with me! I’ve always loved his comedy stylings, and his improvisational skills are something I’ve internalized to a certain degree.

So, yeah. This one’s tough. But, it’s about time I moved on, and celebrated the man’s career for what it was: stellar. And that also brings up an important question, that some of you have probably asked by now:

HOW HAVE I MISSED MRS. DOUBTFIRE, WHAT THE FUCK

I KNOW I KNOW OK?

Look, I’m not entirely sure how I haven’t seen this movie, because I’m MORE than aware of it! I remember it airing during the ‘90s, my Dad AND girlfriend love this movie, and I know FOR A FACT that my family owned both the DVD AND THE VHS of this movie! So, how? HOW HAVE I NOT SEEN IT BY NOW?

I honestly have no idea, but let’s fix it now, huh? Yet one more man-dresses-as-woman movie this month! And no, I am not watching White Chicks...because I’ve already seen White Chicks. Also, it’s...problematic.

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

 Recap

Daniel Hillard (Robin Williams) is a voice-actor, and a good one. Which, given that it’s Robin Williams, isn’t entirely inaccurate. He’s also a voice actor with a spine, as he morally objects to a scene in the cartoon that he’s performing for, in which the main character smokes. By the way, I’m 99% sure that this cartoon is animated by Chuck Jones, and it looks well-made.

Anyway, this leads to him quitting the cartoon altogether, and allows him to pick up his kids early from school. These kids are Lydia (Lisa Hykub), Chris (Matthew Lawrence), and Natalie (Mara Wilson), and it’s Chris’ 12th birthday. Daniel arranges a...surprisingly large party, given that it’s completely impromptu, and it comes with a petting zoo and complete trappings. However, it’s not a party of which his wife will approve.

This wife is Miranda (Sally Field), a successful architect and the breadwinner of the family. After getting a call from the neighbor about the party, she comes home and busts the outrageous party. And for the record, I’m entirely on Miranda’s side here. This party is INSANE, and very irresponsible, given the fact that Daniel currently has no job. And yeah, he’s a very loving father, and a good person, but...it’s too much.

Miranda feels the same, and after 14 years of frustration, she realizes that she no longer loves Daniel. In a genuinely sad scene, she tells him that she wants a divorce. And she goes through with it MUCH to Daniel’s detriment. He has no home, as he’s staying with his brother, Frank (Harvey Fierstein) and his partner Jack (Scott Capurro). He also still has no job, meaning that he has no way to provide for his children. This means that he has no ability to provide, and the judge awards Miranda full custody. Oof.

However, this is a conditional arrangement, as another hearing for joint custody will be held in 3 months, and if Daniel can get a home and job in that time, he has a chance. He performs a litany of voices and impressions with his court liason, Mrs. Sellner (Anne Haney), which amuses me, but not her, and he gets a job in order to be with his kids for more than one day a week.

Meanwhile, Miranda IMMEDIATELY starts dating fellow designer and old flame Stuart Dunmeyer (Pierce Brosnan), like, almost before Daniel leaves the house. He bids a heartfelt goodbye to his kids, with the promise that he’ll see them on Saturdays. And now begins the absolute hatred and petty bitchiness of Daniel and Miranda! Seriously, it’s...it’s fucking terrible, and it takes away from my sympathy from either side. I get that divorce is rough and ugly, but GODDAMN, neither of them perform the act with any form of tact or grace.

This is put on display during the kids’ visitation to Daniel’s semi-crappy new apartment, which doesn’t even seem that bad, to be honest. Miranda dropped them off late and picked them up early, as if to slowly starve Daniel of time with his kids, which is extraordinarily shitty of her, fuck me. Daniel’s not taking it well, understandably, but then does something...really dumb, when you think about it.

See, Miranda’s looking for a nanny, to help watch the kids and clean the house during the week. Daniel volunteers his services, which is actually a good idea, but Miranda says she’ll think about it, which we ALL know means no. I DO NOT like Miranda, even if I understand the initial reasons for the divorce. She’s being especially spiteful, and it’s not a good look.

Daniel’s stupid idea, though, is to change the phone number on the ad for the nanny, which Miranda shows him before she takes the kids. Instead, he calls her number, and pretends to be various terrible applicants, until finally supplying his own applicant: the completely fictional Euphegenia Doubtfire (Daniel Hillard).

Daniel plays Mrs. Doubtfire as an elderly British woman, and a seasoned nanny in her day. Which is why it’s weird to me that, when he does to Frank and Jack to help him make an elaborate disguise as Mrs. Doubtfire, that they go through various other impressions and get-ups. Which, yes, is goddamn hilarious, but also makes NO SENSE, given that they’ve already established her character to Miranda. Funny, but nonsensical.

But, regardless, Euphegenis Doubtfire comes into being, and introduces herself to Miranda and the kids. Mrs. Doubtfire is exactly what Miranda’s looking for, although the kids aren’t exactly overjoyed, ESPECIALLY the oldest, Lydia. Also, during this first meeting, Miranda openly bad-mouths Daniel in front of the kids, in just the WORST fuckin’ way. I genuinely dislike Miranda A LOT. Again, the divorce was certainly justified, but I REALLY don’t like her. Daniel loves his kids, and they’re HIS kids, TOO. Stop using them as weapons against him, OOOOOOOOOOOH I DON’T LIKE MIRANDA

Anyway, that evening, after she’s officially been hired by Miranda, Mrs. Doubtfire heads home, only to find court liason Mrs. Sellner waiting to speak with Daniel. After a litany of puns, and a humorous changing scene, Daniel accidentally throws the Mrs. Doubtfire mask out of the window, and is forced to improvise through equally humorous circumstances. Hence, the above meringue mask scene. Has anybody tried that, by the way? Could that work as a groundbreaking beauty technique? Or would the sugar just feed the skin bacteria and give you acne? Genuinely curious.

Now going between his job as Daniel and the nanny job as Doubtfire, Daniel’s not doing too badly for himself. The nanny job begins, and Mrs. Doubtfire IMMEDIATELY contrasts with Daniel, creating a disciplinarian atmosphere in place of Daniel’s formerly loosey-goosey attitude. Which is interesting, and it works! I mean, it’s not how I would parent, but it does work. Doubtfire makes the kids to their homework, rather than watch TV, and then attempts to make dinner. Instead, though, the dinner’s ruined, and Daniel orders takeout and makes it LOOK like homemade food. And it looks good, too! Daniel’s full of hidden talents.

After dinner, as Mrs. Doubtfire’s leaving, Lydia apologizes for backtalking her earlier, and thanks her for making her mom happy with everything she did that evening. he also says that she’s still a bit messed up about her dad being gone. And yeah, it’s sweet-but-sad. 

Going forward (and in a montage set to Aerosmith’s Dude Looks Like a Lady), Mrs. Doubtfire takes care of the family, and Daniel even betters himself to become a better Mrs. Doubtfire. Which...to be honest, Daniel REALLY should’ve done this before. I get that he needed the pressure of losing the kids to do this, but...look, Daniel really wasn’t that responsible of a parent, and the fact that THIS is how he learns to be so is...not great. Like, here’s an example, OK: take Donald Trump.

Yeah, I know, what’s this politics doing in my peanut butter? And WOW, that reference is older than me, but anyway. Let’s say that, in two years, a new politician comes on the scene, and her name is Karyn Walldottir. She has somewhat centrist views, and behaves in a way that’s inclusive to the majority, and backs up her claims and promises with evidence (at least true enough for us to suspend our disbelief). This is, of course, Donald Trump disguised as a woman in order to gain custody of the United States of America again. Naturally.

Karyn Walldottir gets elected in 2024, and all of her policies are markedly different from Trump’s and Biden’s, but leaning closer to Biden in progressive standpoints (assuming that that worked for him come 2024). While Trump is doing this specifically to be president again, he ends up revising his personal policies, and being a better person and president for the country. A literal impossibility, I know. But suspend your disbelief to ask this question:

WHY THE FUCK WOULDN’T HE DO THAT IN THE FIRST PLACE? IT MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE!

OK, now that that dumbass (and mildly horrifying) thought process is concluded, let’s get back to Mrs. Doubtfire. In the process of Mrs. Doubtfire’s ingratiation with the family, Miranda’s been dating Stu, whom Mrs. Doubtfire subtly insults when they meet. And yeah, Daniel’s being a little petty here, but it makes a bit of sense at least.

That night, after an accidental intrusion by Chris when Mrs. Doubtfire is going to the bathroom, Daniel’s basically forced to tell Chris and Lydia his little secret, which Lydia’s happy about, but Chris is understandably weirded out about. But, they agree to keep the secret from their mom and younger sister.

At his OTHER job, delivering film reels from a TV station, he witnesses the filming of an extremely boring kids educational TV show, and comments as such to another man watching. As he quickly learns, this is the owner of the station, Jonathan Lundy (Robert Prosky), on whom Daniel makes a good impression.

In the meantime, Mrs. Doubtfire has a talk with Miranda about their love lives, real and fictional. Daniel realizes how badly Miranda had been suffering in their marriage, which she never told him because...well, he never seemed to take anything seriously. Which is entirely fair...but this is why Miranda’s a tricky-ass character. She’s got two sides: there’s the justified caring mother and strong woman, and there’s the PETTY ASSHOLE who genuinely doesn’t care about Daniel or his feelings AT ALL. Jesus.

And Stu...look, Stu is LITERALLY a Gary Stu, who’s mostly perfect. Sure, he’s not always been that way, but he definitely is now! He’s responsible, wealthy, in love with Miranda AND her kids. And yeah, at a country club that he’s a member of (OF COURSE he is), he privately badmouth Daniel in front of Mrs. Doubtfire, calling him a loser, and...yeah, he’s not really unjustified in that statement. Fact of the matter is, Stu is barely even a plot device.

Meanwhile, in Daniel’s day job, he finds himself alone in the studio, where the toy dinosaurs from the TV show are still sitting on the table. He plays with them, gives them voices, sings some songs, and impresses Mr. Lundy, who’s there in the shadows after all that. He’s impressed, and invites Daniel to dinner to talk about a potential future show at the network.

But then, it’s also Miranda’s birthday coming up, and Stu’s holding a dinner for her, to which Mrs. Doubtfire is invited. Trouble is, it’s at the OH FUCK IT. YOU know what this is. It’s at the same time and place as the Mr. Lund meeting yaddayaddayadda LOOK. We ALL know how this is going to end. It’s the GODDAMN LIAR REVEALED TROPE AGAIN. And here’s the thing:

I FUGGIN’ HAAAAAATE THE LIAR REVEALED TROPE

You know, that thing in movies (especially family movies of the ‘90s) where somebody starts off a situation with a lie, they get deeper and deeper into that lie, grow close to people under false pretenses, and then OH NO! THE LIAR IS REVEALED! And everybody’s angry and/or sad, the liar slumps off, defeated and broken, but then realizes the error of his ways, while everybody else realizes the same thing, and he comes back to vindicate himself, and is welcomed back with open arms. And it introduces unneeded tension AND I HAVE ALWAYS FUCKING HATED IT.

Let’s list the examples, shall we? A Bug’s Life, Aladdin, Mulan, The Road to El Dorado, Chicken Run, How to Train Your Dragon, Klaus, Madagascar 3: Europe’s Most Wanted, Megamind (SUBVERSIVE MY ASS), Over the Hedge, Rango, Toy Story, Steven Universe (the whole Pearl/Sardonyx arc, which went on for WAY too long), the list goes on and fucking on. And I GODDAMN HATE IT. Not to say it can’t be done well. Disney actually usually does a pretty good job with it, and Dreamworks uses it A LOT, but almost always pretty well. But sometimes...GOD. Either way, it’s still used FAR too fucking much. And look. Here’s another one. Joy.

Look, at this point...I will freely admit that I'm biased against this trope, but it’s also obvious where this is headed. Basically, Daniel switches back and forth between the dinner with the family, and the dinner with Mr. Lundy. With Mr. Lundy, he gets absolutely SMASHED. Great. Great decision, Daniel.

So, yeah, Mrs. Doubtfire’s also smashed, which is pretty goddamn apparent to them all. At this point, I’m wondering why Daniel, as Mrs. Doubtfire, didn’t just say she was sick as hell, and had to go home. Or, considering the fact that Daniel proposes her as a show idea regardless, the switch wasn’t even necessary! And that means that none of what’s about to happen, happens. Or, here’s a crazy thought, maybe Daniel shouldn’t have POISONED STU’S FOOD WITH CAYENNE PEPPER THAT HE’S ALLERGIC TO! 

YEAH! Because that causes Stu to go into anaphylactic shock for a hot sec, causing him to choke. Mrs. Doubtfire does the right thing and gives him the Heimlich maneuver, and in the process, SURPRISE! IT’S BEEN DANIEL ALL ALONG! BUH BUH BUHHHHH DA DA DA DAAAAA DA

Yeah, so Miranda is understandably ENRAGED by this revelation, and it’s all over. Daniel represents himself in court at the custody hearing, but the judge deems his “lifestyle” dangerous for children. Which...yikes, Judge, that statement didn’t age well AT FUCKING ALL. But, given Daniel’s admitted stupidity with this whole idea, he’s not wrong about the dangerous part. But, I have to say, Daniel’s speech in his own defense is nice...although he also says he’s addicted to his children, so let’s throw a second yikes on there for good measure.

The speech moves Miranda...but not enough to prevent Daniel has his custody stripped away from him! GOD THEY BOTH SUUUUUUUUCK. Daniel’s a broken man, and Miranda and the kids are similarly broken without him and Mrs. Doubtfire. However...Daniel’s career isn’t broken AT ALL, as Mrs. Doubtfire is now a kid’s show host! Yeah! And she’s a hit! And again, it brings me to wonder why Daniel DIDN’T APPLY HIS OBVIOUS TALENTS LIKE THIS IN THE FIRST GODDAMN PLACE

Realizing that she made a mistake, she goes to the set during the filming of a show. She congratulates him on the show, and he replies by stating how broken he is now! Thanks, Miranda! Well, after an argument, and after Miranda sees how badly she’s messed up someone she used to care for, they come to an agreement: joint custody. FINALLY GODDAMN IT

And good, because I don’t want them back together. I have to give this film props for that: they acknowledge that these two are NOT good for each other, and they deliver a message in the end: families are families, no matter how they’re shaped. One mom, one dad, uncle or aunt, grandparents, adoption, two separated or divorced parents...oh, also, two dads or two moms. Yeah, that isn’t said in Mrs. Doubtfire’s final monologue, which is odd considering Daniel’s brother and his life partner...but it’s also kid’s TV in the ‘90s, so I guess that sadly makes sense. And with that, and their new family arrangement, Daniel takes his kids on an afternoon out, as himself.

...Look. That’s Mrs. Doubtfire, yaddayaddayadda LOOK. I don’t dislike this movie. In fact, here: have this mini-Review:

Cast and Acting - 9/10: Good, although Brosnan was a little stiff.

Plot and Writing - 5/10: It’s an idiot plot, what can I say? It’s actually based off of a book, which was a surprise to me, but it was adapted by Randi Mayem Singer and Leslie Dixon, and...eh. Still an idiot plot.

Directing and Cinematography - 8/10: It’s Chris Columbus, you get what you get. Definitely has that Home Alone flair to it.

Production and Art Design - 8/10: I mean, yeah, the Doubtfire disguise was good most of the time, but...I dunno, I could still tell it was Robin. But, still, it was good. Took 4 hours of makeup, fun fact.

Music and Editing - 8/10: Music by Howard Shore (ooh, Howard Shore!) was pretty nice, especially the ending theme. Editing by Raja Gosnell was...RAJA GOSNELL???

OH GOD. Yeah, OK, I see what happened here. Also, I didn’t know he was an editor! I just know him as the director of the Scooby-Doo films, Beverly Hills Chihuahua, The Smurfs films, Big Momma’s...

...OK, no, I am not doing Big Momma’s House OR the Madea movies. THE TROPE-BUCK STOPS HERE! I am moving on to something else! But, of course, I have to sum this up in a Review. See you there!

[merinelsa]

Have you ever done a ranking list of your favourite episodes?

not really , the thing with me is that i never rewatch tv shows . i binge through them once and then just watch few scenes in yt , but never rewatch any of it even if it was one of my favourite show. Glee is the only exception , though i really only watch very few eps from the earlier seasons and rewatched s5-s6 twice , though i’d skipped 100, new directions and the wedding during both my rewatches. there are eps like new new york and wonderful that i watch time to time as comfort eps playing in the background . from s3, first time and big brother are the only eps i have rewatched 

i’d only watched glee for the first time last year , so like it’s not been that long to warrant a rewatch , but since i’d binged most of it in one stretch ( had taken a one month break b/w s3ep7 and ep8 because of how much i was getting tired of the shitty storylines of s3 , hence it being my least fave ) i forgot a lot of the non klaine stuff.

but i’ll try to rank the eps , just know that i’m very biased to klaine/kurt/blaine storylines . and the seasons too are ranked in the order i like them 

6 . season 3

22. i kissed a girl

21. pot o gold

20. prom-asaurus

19. yes/no

18. i am unicorn

17. mash off

16. the spanish teacher

15. asian f

14. on my way

13. props

12. choke

11. hold on to sixteen

10. saturday night gleever

9. michael

8. goodbye

7. big brother

6. nationals

5. heart

4. extraordinary merry christmas

3. dance with somebody

2. purple piano project

1. first time

5. season 1

22. the rhodes not taken

21. funk

20. showmance

19.  vitamin d

18. hairography

17. ballad

16. mashup

15. throwdown

14. the power of madonna

13. mattress

12. acafellas

11. dream on

10. home

9. pilot

8.  hell-o

7. sectionals

6. preggers

5. bad reputation

4. wheels

3. journey to regionals

2. theatricality

1. laryngitis

4. season 4 

22. britney 2.0

21. sweet dreams

20. lights out

19. shooting star

18. all or nothing

17. feud

16. thanksgiving

15. the role you were born to play

14. glease

13. swan song

12. sadie hawkins

11. naked

10. makeover

9. girls and boys on film

8. diva

7. glee,actually

6. i do

5. dynamic duets

4. the new rachel

3.  break up

2. guilty pleasure

1. wonderful

3. season 2

22. britney/brittany

21. the substitute

20. comeback

19. special education

18. a very glee christmas

17. the sue sylvester shuffle

16. night of neglect

15. new york

14. funeral

13. never been kissed ( except for the klaine part, the whole ep is a mess)

12. rocky horror glee show

11. rumours

10. audition

9. sexy

8. grilled cheesus

7. blame it on the alcohol

6. prom queen

5. born this way

4. silly love songs

3. duets

2. furt 

1. original song

2. season 6

13. the rise and fall of sue sylvester

12. hurt locker part 1

11. child star

10. homecoming

9. we built this glee club

8. what the world needs now

7. hurt locker part 2

6. a wedding

5.  dreams come true

4. 2009

3. jagged little tapestry

2. transitioning

1. loser like me

1. season 5 ( i’m not going to rank the quaterback )

19. opening night

18. 100

17. tina in the sky with diamonds

16. city of angels

15. bash

14. a katy or gaga

13. new direction

12. end of twerk

11. previously unaired christmas

10. trio

9. movin out

8. the back up plan

7. puppet master

6. love love love

5. old dogs new trick

4. untitled rachel berry project

3. frenemies

2. tested

1. new new york

now top five glee episodes over all

5. original song : don’t ask me what happened besides klaine in this because i truly don’t remember . but the klaine parts are pure heavenly. s2 klaine is something i missed a lot and didn’t appreciate enough during my first watch but rewatching some klaine centric eps has made me appreciate their friendship a lot more. even the stuff leading upto the kiss is fantastic , it’s also an ep that shows how rachel and blaine can get similar but how they react to criticisms and how blaine tries to include everyone when pointed out unlike making a fit out of it with rachel is where they diverge and makes these incredibly different personalities .and the kiss was just to good and sparks were flying everywhere and it is something that glee could never recreate with any other couple. and “ reminds you of your mom’s funeral doesn’t it “” the casket was bigger but yes “ just proves that they are equally dumbasses that fit each other so well

4. wonder-ful : this is just pure comfort ep. it’s so bright and upbeat in the middle of the previous dark eps. so much kurt and klaine . a bit more focus on kurt’s mental health issues, which will later be forgotten but it’s good over here. supportive blaine as always just highlighting how much they understand each other. a lot of burt which is always a plus . a very good mercedes plotline which should’ve been given more time but still is one of the better ones she gets.just seeing how light and loving kurt turns once burt is finally in the safe zone. and ‘you get kinda cute when you get nervous’ and ‘with you in it a wondeful life’ and whatever homoerotic stuff that is going on b/w rachel and cassie

3. Loser like me : the pure angst . i love storylines where they hit the rock bottom from such a happy place and have to find their way to the top by leaning in on each other and supporting each other. great klaine scenes, s5b we where pushed to believe that kurt had it all together, but we finally got to see kurt being an absolute mess and realizing how he contributed to their relationship not working out instead of pitting it all on s4 cheating . confident got help all by himself in a better position blaine , rachel finally getting a storyline that’s interesting and makes her one to root for . This ep always gives me the chills and makes me excited for the rest of the season

2. Tested : It’s genuinely one of the funniest eps ever. amazing rachcedes moment . the guys presenting one of my fave family dynamics in the show. great samcedes and klaine plotline . and i love the way liab is shot , such a well choreographed performance and it really looks like chris and darren had so much fun doing it.

1. New new york : this ep is the perfect mixture of fluff , comedy and angst. And on top of that we get never tried before combination of dynamics like rachel and artie as well as our favourite dynamics like klaine, blam, kelliot . also , out of all the klaine plotlines, this feels to me the most realistic one and really shows how much they want to work out their highschool relationship into an adult setting but they’re still young clueless inexperienced couple who doesn’t really know what they’re doing but still trying to work it out the way they think is the best one to protect their relationship , showing how much they care for each other as we enter into the crazy hard parts of their relationship. also , to see these whole set of highschool friends trying to navigate their way into this busy adult life is so fun to watch .  

[1337wtfomgbbq]

I gotta rant for a second here. I hate this app. Okay maybe not this whole app, more the people on here. Specifically the people in the supernatural community. Yes talking to you. I can’t believe I’m even back into this with you guys.

I know people can pick and chose which characters they like and which they dislike. I know, for some trauma and whathaveyou also plays into what they feel towards a character.

But I am just so mad. I’m on a little bit of a rewatch, as you are, of season 1 to 3 (maybe some episodes of 4 and 5) because those are the only good seasons, and I just wanna look at some posts of my favorite character.

But my favorite character happens to be John.

TLDR: John's character is complex as fuck and people like to oversimplify and villify him, for no reason other than „BuT My DaAAadYY WaS ShiTTy!!!!“

And I get it. People on here disregard season 1-3, even the writers disregarded what JDM wanted John to be: “I don’t think he’s as screwed-up as other people do,” Morgan told EW. “I think he is a guy who’s got a tremendous amount of love for his family. He was willing to die for his sons, willing to put himself in a place to where he could lose his life for revenge on what killed his wife. So as much has been said about John or that I’ve heard about John, I think what is missing is that he shows love in different ways. Maybe he wasn’t a big hugger and he didn’t say the right things when he should’ve — and there’s a bigger picture about getting your kids into hunting ghosts that I should acknowledge — but I think at his core he really loved his family and was willing to sacrifice everything. So I never looked or played John in a way that there was any malice toward his sons.”

People project what went wrong in their lifes and with their fathers on this app SO HARD. To be fair they do that everywhere. But it's so infuriating when it's done to a character you love so much.

And as much as I wanna be understanding I am just so pissed.

Hear me out: Back when I first started watching supernatural (I was fucking 12 back then, can you believe that) and my friend was all „OMG Sam is such a treat. He's mine!“ I thought, okay I'm gonna take Dean then.

The coin finally dropped on me in 'Shadow' and I realized „Heck, screw Dean, I'm taking John!“ (Not that I told my friend that, LOL. I hadn't realized just then that I prefer older guys)

And attraction is one thing, but the character spoke to me on such a deep level too. I mean, you got a dude whos wife died in a way that he cannot explain in a rational way, only to have his eyes opened to the supernatural by Missouri. And it turns out whatever killed his wife also did some fucked up shit to his kid and is after, not only his youngest but, all of them.

So he's forced to take his kids on the run. But, he's also an ex-marine, he's a soldier and he can't leave other people to die at the hands and claws and teeth of monsters and ghosts and strigas and whathaveyou. Which leaves him struggling to ballance protecting and caring for his kids and saving people and hunting things, AND finding the thing that killed his wife.

The way John's situation was set up (ignoring for a second what we learn in later seasons) and the way Sam was brought up by him created a relationship that was bound to escalate; it was only a matter of time.

Season 1 to 3 we got a John that was distant and rough, but a John that recognized he fucked up along the way and who saught to rectify where he went wrong with his boys.

Season 1 episode 20: „You gotta understand something. After your mother passed all I saw was evil, everywhere. And all I cared about was keeping you boys alive. I wanted you...prepared. Ready. Except somewhere along the line I ... uh ... I stopped being your father and I ... I became your, your drill sergeant. So when you said that you wanted to go away to school, all I could think about, my only thought was, that you were gonna be alone. Vulnerable. Sammy, it just... it never occurred to me what you wanted. I just couldn't accept the fact that you and me -- We're just different.“

And guess what, Sam admits seconds later: „We're not different. Not anymore. With what happened to Mom and Jess... Well we probably have a lot more in common than just about anyone.“

Season 1 episode 21: „I want to stop losing people we love. I want you to go to school, I want Dean to have a home. I want....I want Mary alive. It's just....I just want this to be over.“

John literally on the show in person, Jeffrey Dean Morgan Season 1, admits that he didn't want ANYTHING OF WHAT HAPPENED, AND WHAT HE HAD TO DO TO HAPPEN!!!!

Sure, Sam suggested to Dean that John's just „working overtime on Miller Time shift. He'll stumble back in sooner or later“ in the very first episode but we never see John drink alcohol, for all he's on screen in season one, ONCE. (1x1) Suggesting that John did have a drinking problem but somewhere between Sam going off to college and the pilot he kicked that habit.

Sure, Sam is clearly vindictive BUT, when faced with a kid with a clearly abusive father, he also says that, „Well, it coulda gone a whole other way after Mom. A little more tequila and a little less demon hunting and we coulda had Max' childhood. All things considered, we turned out okay. Thanks to him.“ (1x14)

We see him cry on multible occasions in season one and two, we see him hug both Sam and Dean and tell BOTH OF THEM that he is proud of them. Heck, he couldn't shut up about how proud he was of them. Like Jerry told Sam in 1x4 „Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell, He talked about you all the time.“ He kept Sam's soccer trophie, and Dean's first sawed off. He fucking died to safe Dean.

Yeah, he told Dean that he'd have to kill Sam if he goes evil but...

Let's take into consideration season 4 and 5, and John wasn't all too wrong for telling Dean this. Even if we ignore all that, as John probably didn't have the full picture, John didn't knew the extend of Sam's powers. As is always said, „With great power comes great responsibility“. We have seen in comics, shows, movies, all over pop culture and history, how easily great power can corrupt, don't matter how nice and righteous that person is.

Let's take into consideration what was added in season 4 and 5: Like John having another family, the fact that cupid had to get him and Mary together, Mary making a deal with Azazel, the few demons (not even all of them) Lucifer showed Sam who had been put into his life by yellow eyes; even that just adds more credence to the already established character.

Of course John was bound to have flings after Mary, you can't expect a widower to just be celibate forever. And it wasn't even that he bailed on her, he literally didn't know there was a child until twelve years later.

And considering John's erratic 'work schedule' and how little we know of Kate, maybe it was her that wanted John not to have much contact to her son. The whole situation with Adam isn't exactly clear, and told through the eyes of a ghoul. Plus, we all saw where John's decision to leave Adam in the dark about the supernatural had him end up (namely killed by a ghoul).

The fact that cupid had to get John and Mary together only gives more ammunition for my argument that John was only working with what was given to him. Pretty much everyone from hell to heaven was meddling in his life.

Getting ahead with headcanons here but, for all we know John and Mary would've never ended up together; for all we know Mary was a lesbian and John was bi; for all we know they could've still worked out without cupid's help. Who knows? We don't because heaven took that decision away from both John and Mary.

The fact that Mary made a deal with Azazel to safe John's life in exchange for Azazel to be able to enter her home in ten years time, again, caused something to happen down the line that affected John and the boys that John had no control over.

And I gotta thank Lucifer for his part, because it gives EVEN MORE credence as to why John couldn't give Dean and Sam a normal life. He reveals SOME of the people Azazel planted into Sam's life that were actually possessed by demons.

„LUCIFER: Look closely. None of these little devils look familiar to you? SAM: That's Mr. Bensman... One of my grade-school teachers. LUCIFER: And that's your friend Doug from that time in East Lansing. And Rachel... your prom date. Sam Winchester, this is your life. Azazel's gang – watching you since you were a rugrat, jerking you around like a dog on a leash. I know how you feel about them. Me too. So, what do you say you and I blow off a little steam?“ (5x22)

A few episodes earlier we found out that his friend Brady, the one that introduced him to Jess, was actually possessed by a demon, and the one that fucking killed her.

„BRADY (chuckles): Brady hasn't been Brady in years. Not since, oh... middle of our sophomore year?

SAM: What?

BRADY: That's right. You had a devil on your shoulder even back then. All right, now, let it all sink in.

SAM: You son of a bitch. You son of a bitch! (Sam approaches Brady, Dean holds him back) You introduced me to Jess!

BRADY: Ding, ding! I think he's got it!“ (5x20)

All of this paints a clear picture for me, of a man that got played by fate and heaven and hell and was only trying to play the cards all of them dealt him to the best of his ability. Did he fuck up along the way, yes, did he show remorse for that and did he wish he could've given Sam and Dean a better life, Yes.

I completely understand people liking one character and disliking another, even projecting onto characters I get. And I get that people's life experiances lead them to different conclusions.

But it pisses me off so much that I can't go into the 'John Winchester' tag without having to read some shit as fuck take on John.

I have to read people saying that he never told Dean he was proud of him and that the only time he did so he was possessed by Azazel. Which isn't even true, but a motherfucking lie.

Season 2, episode 1; when John WASN'T POSSESSED ANYMORE he said to Dean: „You know, when you were a kid... I'd come home from a hunt. And after what I'd seen... I'd be wrecked. And you... You'd come up to me... you'd put your hand on my shoulder, and you'd look me in the eye. You'd say, "It's okay, Dad." Dean. I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to say that to me. I should've been saying that to you. You know, I put... I put too much on your shoulders. I made you grow up too fast. You took care of Sam, and you took care of me. You did that. And you didn't complain, not once. I just want you to know... that I am so proud of you.“

I have to read people forget or disregard that John was literally a righteous man. Alastair tried to break John and John didn't break for a century and then clawed his way OUT OF HELL TO SAFE HIS SONS IN 2x22. John must've had righteousness in heaven (which would come through faith in Jesus) and righteousness on earth (which would come through living through the commandments) as long as that's what the writers meant with 'righteous man'.

I have to read stuff John would apparently do only because we learn in 'Dark side of the Moon' that John and Mary's marriage wasn't all sunshine and rainbows and that John even moved out for a period. Even though we don't know who caused that fight and what it was about, literally it could've been Mary's fault and John only left to cool off. And even if not, marriages aren't just sunshines and rainbows. Fights happen, bad stuff is worked out. That would be true even without the cupid spell.

I have to read someone projecting their experiance with their father onto John. I have to read about someone saying John would've been such a dick because he was in the military and fought in the vietnam war, and we all know that's what all sodiers back then were (dicks). I have to read about how homophobic and transphobic John obviously was. I have to read about how much John would've been racist to Sam and Dean if they'd been mixed.

John was born in 1954, he has to be homophobic and transphobic and racist and bigoted and everthing you can think of. It can't be possible for someone to be born during that time and not be, right. (I hope you recognize the sarcasm)

Everybody is screaming 'child abuse' as loud as they can without taking into account the unique world those characters inhabit and the situation fate, heaven and hell put John and the boys into.

Dean could dig himself out of his grave because John used to bury them alive and had them dig their way out of a coffin as training!!!? Are yall good?? Literally what did your parents do to you, what went wront in your life that you think shit like this?!

And I get it, you can headcanon all you want. I myself headcanon John as bi and that Azazel knew and used this fact.

The writers did John so dirty in later seasons, and I'm not even alone in this, JDM agrees with me.

„But it always bugged me that the John that I played is different than the John that has been portrayed since I haven't been around. I really wanted the opportunity to be able to come back and make amends in a way and try to fix the sullied name of this character. But more than that, it's three friends, life lived. It feels like we've been friends for a lifetime now, getting to reunite in a place that we love and that we met and do what we do and I think that is super cool. So not only does John win in getting to come back and see his boys and Mary again and hopefully make some amends, it's just as cool for me, the actor, to be able to come back and see everybody.“

I'm sorry, but if Snape fans are allowed to be pissed about people suggesting Snape would've been creeping on Harry if he had been female and looked like Lilly, I can be pissed about everybody and their grandma in this fucking fandom painting John in the worst light possible.

JDM created such a great character with depth and who was interesting, even in season 4 and 5 they were still respectfull to his character, but the later seasons were just *throws up *

And I mean, I get it, I disregard canon too. Like, I disregard everything after season 5, that's Sam hallucinating in hell to me. Sometimes even after season 3, cause I don't feel like dealing with the angels, and cas and destiel and all that.

I get it, I get it, I get it.

But I too have the right to be pissed off about the way people like to shit on my fav.

Long story short, I love John and how complex and grey his character is and I HATE IT how simple and 'black and white' people wanna make him out to be. I wanna punch a bitch. I wanna throw hands right now.

[ericsonclan]

You're My Home Part 4

Summary: Now that they live together, Violet decides it's time: she invites Prisha to come with her to meet her mom.

Read on AO3:

Notes: Many thanks to @violetineprompts for the inspiration for this fic!

Violet sat in bed thoughtfully, her fingers playing with the sheets covering her. Prisha lay beside her, still sleeping. Violet wondered how soon it would be until she woke up. There was something important she needed to ask her. The clock beside their bed read 5:47 AM. She still had a little while. Crawling out of bed, Violet headed into the kitchen to make breakfast. As she finished preparing the eggs, bacon and toast, she heard her girlfriend stir and come out of the bedroom.

“Making breakfast, love?” Prisha asked, still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

Violet smiled shyly at the term of endearment. Prisha was especially affectionate whenever she was sleepy. “Mhm. I made plenty, so grab as much as you want,” She sat down across from her girlfriend, watching happily as Prisha began to eat.

It only took a moment for Prisha to realize Violet wasn’t joining suit. “You made all this and you’re not hungry?”

Violet shook her head, her eyes on the table. “Visiting my mom today,”

Prisha froze in the midst of biting into a piece of toast slathered in marmalade. “Oh. I see,”

“I want you to go with me this time,”

Prisha’s eyes shot up at that, studying Violet. In all the time they’d been together, neither had met each other’s parents. In Violet’s case, there was the added factor of her father’s violent mood swings. Prisha had never pushed the issue of Violet continuing to visit her mother once a month, even though the first time she’d learned of it had been through seeing Violet with a black eye. To be asked this now… Prisha wondered what had brought it on.

Violet seemed to read her thoughts. “I know it’s not something we ever really talked about. But I would like you to meet my mom. I- I want her to know that I’m happy,”

Prisha’s heart swelled at those words. “Violet…” She reached across the table to grab her girlfriend’s hand. “Of course I want to go. I would be honored,”

Violet’s eyes widened before settling into a bright warmth. “Shit. Ok then. We’re actually doing this,” She squeezed Prisha’s hand gently. “You good to go after breakfast?”

Prisha nodded. “I’ll be finished in a few,”

---

It didn’t take long before they were ready to head out. There wasn’t really anything to pack, just the monthly check that Violet set aside for her mother. Once that was written up they headed down to Prisha’s car, driving in relative silence. The only sound was the gentle lilt of Louis’ piano playing on the CD he had given them a few weeks earlier.

As they approached the old trailer park that Violet had once called home, she felt her gut twist inside her. Prisha had never been out here before. Violet had been honest about her past and more open with Prisha than she’d ever been before, but still, would seeing the dilapidated trailer in person somehow change things between them? Shut the fuck up - you’re being stupid, Violet scolded herself. Prisha’s not like that. It wasn’t like any of her other friends had abandoned her because of her shitty home life. Still, it was a feeling Violet simply couldn’t shake.

Pulling up to the correct trailer, Prisha parked the car and silently exited. As Violet approached, she reached out her hand to intertwine their fingers. They walked up the few steps to the broken screen door hand in hand. Violet rang the doorbell. They waited in tense silence until the main door was opened up a crack. As soon as there was recognition, the door opened wider. Violet’s mother stood before them, looking at the two girls through her screen door. The light inside the house was dim compared to outside so Prisha could only pick up vague details: long, thin blonde hair pulled back in a low ponytail. A thin, wiry frame similar to Violet’s. And dark eyes that looked out with a sort of jaded indifference.

“You gonna let us in, Mom?” Violet finally asked, breaking the silence.

Her mother pushed the screen door open without a word, allowing the girls to slip inside. They were immediately within the living room. A small TV stood against the far wall with a worn-down sofa and armchair facing it. The kitchen was to their right, the sink cluttered with dirty dishes and the smell of burnt food lingering within the air. Violet quickly guided Prisha over to the table where they sat beside each other, looking up at Violet’s mother.

“Tea?” she asked softly. There was a wispiness to her tone that reminded Prisha of Violet’s voice. They both nodded and Violet’s mother headed into the kitchen to get the water heater started. It gave off a high-pitched, faint whistle even as the water within was far from reaching boiling point. Violet’s mother sat down across the table, still observing the girls silently. There was something world-weary within her deep brown eyes. It was clear life had not been kind to her and was far from done with her either.

Violet slid over the check, tucked within a plain white envelope. Her mother pocketed it without a second thought, rising quickly afterwards to get out mugs for tea. When she came back, she carried three mugs steaming with chamomile tea: a pale purple one with a rainbow sloppily painted upon it – clearly a school art project of Violet’s from days gone by; a cracked white mug with a red logo that read Reggie’s Eats upon it and a black mug with no sort of decoration whatsoever. She handed the purple mug to Violet, the black to Prisha, and took a sip from the white mug herself. “You’ve never brought someone over before. Even growing up you wouldn’t,”

Not much to see here and plenty to avoid, Violet thought to herself, but she knew this wouldn’t be an appropriate answer. Not knowing what else to say, she kept things simple. “Mom, this is Prisha,”

“A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Miller,” Prisha said, lowering her mug.

Violet’s mother nodded faintly. “You’re a friend of Violet’s?”

Violet and Prisha shared a look. Violet could feel her throat closing up from the pressure within. It was now or never though. Giving Prisha’s hand a final squeeze, Violet looked up at her mother. “Prisha’s my girlfriend,”

Violet’s mother stopped mid sip. Placing her mug down on the table, she looked off into the middle distance, seeming lost in her own thoughts. It took several seconds before she spoke. “I should’ve figured as much. What with you never dating, never even talking about boys,” She sighed, taking another sip of her tea.

“Violet’s a truly wonderful girl,” Prisha blurted out, her grip on Violet’s hand tightening. “I’m lucky to have met her,”

Violet’s mother gazed at Prisha, her gaze slightly narrowed, as if she wondered what Prisha’s angle could be in saying such a thing. “How did you two meet?”

“At work,” Violet replied. “Prisha works as the bartender at Ericson’s Diner,”

A slight puff of air left her mother’s lips, almost as though she found Prisha’s particular occupation at the diner ironic. She ran her fingers across the top of her mug absent-mindedly. “You know, I always thought you and Louis might end up together someday. Lord knows the two of you spent enough time together. But you said he's dating one of the waitresses, didn’t you? That pretty one in the pictures you’ve shown me,”

“Mom,” Violet’s jaw tightened, her gaze firm. “Prisha and I have been dating for over a year and a half now. We live together,”

Her mother seemed surprised at those words. She looked back and forth between the girls in shock, her eyes growing as large as Violet’s did in moments of surprise.

Violet continued on. “I love Prisha, Mom. That’s why I wanted to bring her here, for better or for worse. I wanted to show you that I’m happy,”

Prisha’s eyes sparkled at Violet’s words, her thumb gently rubbing her girlfriend’s hand as she smiled over at her with pride.

“You have to go,”

The words made Violet’s stomach sink. So her mother wasn’t going to accept her after all. “Mom, I-”

“No, you need to leave,” Violet’s mother wasn’t looking at her. She was looking out the window. That’s when Violet heard it: the rumble of her father’s truck.

Violet sprung to her feet at once, eyes flying round the room in search of an exit. She knew full well it was wishful thinking: the only exit the trailer had was the front door and her father would head up those steps any second now. Seeing her and Prisha trying to sneak out the front would only heighten his suspicions and lead to a confrontation. Should they hide then? But if he was home, he’d likely be here for hours, sprawled out in front of the TV. Would they seriously have to wait until he passed out to safely slip away? Pulling Prisha towards her old bedroom, Violet froze as she heard the screen door creak open. They were out of time. Instinctively she pulled her hand out of Prisha’s grasp.

“I’m home!” her father declared loudly, clearly already inebriated. His eyes took in the room lazily, widening in surprising when they fell upon his daughter and a stranger. “Violet,” he spoke bluntly, his eyes narrowing. “Haven’t seen you here in a long while. Who’s the beaner?”

Violet’s lip curled in disgust at her old man’s presence. “Prisha. We were just leaving,” She stepped forward but her father still blocked the exit.

“Leaving? But I just got here. Sit down!” he yelled suddenly before his expression changed to a lazy smile. “Please,”

Violet wasn’t sure what else to do. Shaking slightly, she returned to the seat she had recently vacated, Prisha beside her. This was bad. Maybe if they had to, they could make a run for it seeing as they were in the chairs closest to the door. But could they start up Prisha’s car before her father reached them? Violet wasn’t sure about that.

Her father sat down in the chair beside her mother. His hand lay open on the table as though expecting something. “Beer,”

Violet’s mother bit her lower lip. “I don’t think we have any-”

“I said BEER!” he roared, causing Violet’s mother to scurry and find some that she’d clearly hidden away in one of the cupboards. Popping it open, she handed it to her husband before sitting back down, her eyes on the table.

Violet’s father took a long swig before turning back to his daughter. “So, to what do we owe the pleasure?” he asked, waving his arms in mock grandeur.

“I just came to see Mom,” Violet replied, her eyes hard but turned away from him.

Her father snorted. “No love for your old man? I see how it is. I only fed and raised you, but do I see a penny or a word of thanks for any of it? Never,”

Prisha was fuming. Her hand rested upon Violet’s seat, balled up into a fist.

Though she remained silent, Violet’s father seemed to pick up on her body language, sending a sneer her way. “Got something to say, girlie?”

Prisha shook her head. “Nothing at all,”

“Prisha is Violet’s roommate,” Violet’s mother jumped in, sharing a quick look with Violet. “We were just getting acquainted,”

Violet’s father snorted. “Figures,” He turned toward his daughter with a frown. “Don’t you ever make friends with any white folks? I thought after hanging around Mason’s boy for so many years he might finally introduce you to some well-off white boys, someone you could shack up with. About time some of that wealth rubbed off and came our way. Don’t you work with that boy now?”

Violet simply nodded, remaining silent. The less her father knew about her life the better.

Finishing his beer off with one final swig, Violet’s father lazily dropped the empty bottle to the floor before motioning for another.

“I- we… that’s it,” Violet’s mother’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

“Bullshit. You’ve always got more hidden away. I know how you are,”

“I’ve been busy with those double shifts these last few days. I figured I’d have time to run out and buy some more before you got home, but you’re earlier than expected and-”

“So what, this is my fault?” Violet’s father’s voice rose in anger as he glared over at his wife. “A man should be able to expect a cold beer in his hand whenever he comes home. Is that so much to ask?”

“No,” The answer was faint.

“I said is that so much to ask!” Violet’s father rose from his chair, towering over his wife threateningly.

Instantly Violet was on her feet as well, her purple mug grasped firmly in her hand. The impromptu weapon shook slightly in her hand as she glared up at her father who chuckled darkly at the sight of his daughter.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Back away from Mom,”

“Or what?”

“Violet, I-” her mother began only to be met with a hard slap across the face.

“No interruptions!” Violet’s father bellowed, raising his hand to strike again.

“You piece of shit!” Violet screamed, tossing the mug at her father’s head. It broke against his temple and crashed to the ground, causing him to turn toward her with eyes full of rage.

“What did you say?” Her father circled the table, heading toward Violet when suddenly a whistled sound cut through the air and he staggered back in surprise, a hand held to his cheek.

Prisha stood in front of Violet, breathing heavily, arms spread. In one hand was a long, thin silver rod. It looked like one of those retractable pointers teachers used in a classroom. Prisha’s tone was grim as she extended her hand, pointing the rod threateningly. “Don’t you dare lay a fucking hand on her,”

Violet’s father narrowed his eyes in disbelief. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” He strode toward the table again only to be slashed by two quick hits, one across his legs and the other cutting the side of his face.

“My name is Prisha Chakyar and as I live, I will not let you take one step closer to either your daughter or your wife,”

“Raising a weapon against me in my own home? No one does that! No one dares-” His words and rampage were cut short once more as Prisha continuously delivered a volley of attacks across his form, her aim precise and merciless. Reaching out to block the weapon with an angry roar, he received a slash upon his knuckles that left them bloody. Violet’s father attempted to charge forward through the pain only to be met with a slice directly across his face and a kick to the groin that left him staggering against the back of the armchair and falling to the ground.

Prisha flicked the steel pointed free of blood, keeping a steady eye upon the hated man. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her car keys and threw them to Violet. “Vi, start the car. Take your mother with you. I’ll be out shortly,”

Violet nodded, circling the table and grabbing her mother’s arm.

“Violet, I-”

“For once in your life, will you just fucking listen to me, Mom? We’re leaving!” Violet’s grip was firm as she guided her mother past her father’s glowering gaze and outside the trailer to the safety of the car. As the screen door slammed behind them, she could hear her father speaking once more.

“You think I’ll let something like this stand? I’ll sue you, take you for all your worth,”

“I highly doubt that, Mr. Miller. Considering your current financial status you’re unlikely to be able to afford a lawyer to begin with and there are years of evidence to prove your claims to the contrary. I’ll be leaving now and if I ever see you coming anywhere near Violet, I’ll do far worse than what you witnessed here today,”

As Prisha exited the trailer, Violet hurried to get her mother into the back of the car and circle round to the passenger side. Tossing the keys to Prisha as she sat down, Violet noticed her girlfriend’s hands were shaking. The rod lay at Violet’s feet now, still tinged with her father’s blood. As they sped out of the trailer park and back onto the freeway, Violet reached out for Prisha’s shoulder. Prisha flinched initially at the touch, but relaxed into it as she glanced over at Violet, a small smile on her face.

---

They dropped Violet’s mother off at the restaurant where she worked. Giving her mom all the cash she had on hand, Violet told her to find a motel for the night then left with Prisha. The drive back to their apartment was silent, tense once more, but a different sort of tension than they’d experienced on the way there, the silence of processing what had happened rather than what was to come. It wasn’t until they were inside the apartment, the door locked firmly behind them, that Violet turned to speak to Prisha. “Prish…”

Her girlfriend stood before her, the metal rod still held within her hand. Her eyes were full of emotions, such a depth and flurry of them Violet couldn’t tell which were which.

Violet wrapped a hand around her arm, looking at the floor in shame. “I’m sorry,”

“Vi…” Prisha dropped the rod upon the floor, rushing forward to wrap her in a crushing hug. The pair stayed frozen within that moment, clinging to each other, breathless, until Prisha pulled away, a hand coming up to cup Violet’s face. “Thank God he didn’t reach you. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to stop him in time,”

Violet’s lower lip trembled, tears beginning to run down her face. “It was awful. I never wanted you to see that. I swear I had no fucking clue he’d be back. My mom said he had work today, and-” she choked, her words getting caught in the buildup of tears and snot within her.

Prisha brought Violet’s head to her chest, rocking her back and forth gently. “We got out safely and we grabbed your mother too. That’s all that matters,”

“My mom,” Violet pulled away, looking up at Prisha with wet eyes. “I thought she’d take it better. I mean, I hoped. Shit, I figured she already fucking knew. I should never have taken you there. It was a mistake,”

“It was a calculated risk,” Prisha replied, gently guiding her girlfriend towards the couch. “Sit down. I’ll make us some chamomile tea,” She paused, glancing back at Violet. “On second thought, hot cocoa,”

Violet sat upon the couch in a daze, watching Prisha bustle back and forth within their kitchen. How was she still standing? After what they’d been through, Violet felt as though her legs couldn’t support her weight a second longer even if she tried.

Prisha came back in a few minutes with the two mugs of cocoa, setting them down upon the end table before reaching out for Violet once more, brushing a strand of hair out of her face then pulling her close. As Violet’s head rested upon Prisha’s chest, she could hear how fast her girlfriend’s heart was beating. The encounter had shaken her too. Prisha was just showing it differently. Prisha sighed, running a hand through Violet’s hair repeatedly as though making sure she was still there. “Well, it’s safe to say that we won’t be taking on the challenge of visiting my family anytime soon either,”

“They can’t be worse than mine,” Violet muttered. “Racists, homophobes… abusers,”

“Nevertheless, I believe we’ve earned ourselves a break,” Prisha rested her cheek upon Violet’s head, letting out a shaky sigh. “I’m so thankful that wand didn’t break,”

“What the hell was that anyway? It looked like something you’d use during a Powerpoint presentation,”

Prisha chuckled. “I actually have used it for that purpose over the years. My father bought it for me, for self-defense purposes. I’ve had it since high school. Never had to use it till today though,”

“Do you always carry that with you?” Violet asked, looking up at her girlfriend in disbelief.

“Not often these days. I have the bat stored under the bar if things ever got out of hand at the diner. But I didn’t want to bring something like that to my first meeting with your mother – I figured that would send the wrong impression. So I snatched up the wand instead and tucked it in my pocket, a sort of last resort,”

“One we had to use,”

“One that kept us safe,” Prisha stroked Violet’s hair one last time before pulling away slightly and looking her in the eyes. “Violet, you never have to say you’re sorry to me when it comes to your family. Where you were born isn’t your fault and what happened back there isn’t on you,”

Violet buried her head against Prisha’s shoulder. “Still, you didn’t deserve to go through that,”

“Neither did you,” Prisha placed a hand upon Violet’s shoulder. “I think you know already how precious you are to me, Violet. I hope that one day you see yourself as I do too without all the years you spent in that hellhole dragging you down. You survived, Violet. You’re the strongest person I know. Stronger than a person should ever have to be. But you don’t have to feel like you have to keep that strong face on even around me. Because that altercation terrified me,” Prisha’s voice became shaky, tears beginning to escape her eyes. “And since I’m crying before you, you can cry before me for as long as you need,”

Violet reached up, brushing a tear away from her girlfriend’s cheek before sobs overtook her own throat once more. Leaning against Prisha, she let herself cry. Tears for all the nights she spent in fear of her father’s wrath, the days she’d avoided the house in order to be safe from him. Tears for all the cuts and bruises she’d hidden, the pitying looks she’d turned away from. Tears for every attempt to escape, every action she’d taken to make things right only for everything to crumble apart and to find herself that same scared little kid once more, cowering in a corner alone.

But she wasn’t alone, not anymore. She wasn’t trapped in the trailer or crouching on the mattress in her old shitty apartment. She wasn’t couch surfing in Mitch’s or Marlon’s living room or hiding from the staff at Louis’ mansion. She was home. She had a home here with Prisha, a life they’d built together. She wasn’t going to give that up. Neither of them were. They would fight for what they had and fight to keep each other safe from all the shit life threw their way. As the flow of her tears lessened, Violet found herself focusing on something else: the feeling of Prisha’s arms around her. She was safe here. And knowing what she did now, knowing Prisha as deeply as she’d ever known a person before, Violet was sure that this wasn’t something she could lose. She was home for good.

[samsexualdeancurious]

Thanks For Listening | Chapter 1

Square: Free Space

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Words: 8,498

Warnings: hurt!Reader, pining, eventual smut, dirty talk, voice!kink, unprotected sex.

Summary: Sam hosts two podcasts - a secret one for hunters called the War Room and a public one with fellow hunter Y/N called Criminal History. Y/N and Sam have never seen each other, let alone met, but that doesn’t stop Sam from worrying when Y/N suddenly goes missing.

Betaed by @manawhaat 

Written for @spnkinkbingo

Header by me and Mana

Masterlist - AO3

--

You rest your elbows on the cheap motel table, leaning on it as you speak into the microphone. "Chief, you've heard my thoughts on this. What do you think?"

There's a pause, the same little dramatic one Sam does every time, and then that rich voice you adore says, "I think he's guilty as hell."

You can't suppress a small laugh at Sam's straight-forward statement. "Well, folks, the Chief has spoken - and the jury has, too. Guilty. As. Hell. Keith Hunter Jesperson, A.K.A. the Happy Face Killer, was sentenced to life without parole and is currently housed in Oregon State Penitentiary. If you want to hear another side of this story, I recommend the podcast Happy Face, which is hosted by Melissa Moore, Jesperson's daughter. Anything else you want to add?"

"Definitely check out that Happy Face podcast, guys. It's a great one."

"Thanks, Chief. Until next time, then, folks. This is Criminal History. Thanks for listening."

You sit back from the mic, both you and Sam leaving a moment of silence where Sam can later cut the recording and add in the outro music.

"How was that?" you ask. "Think we need to go again?"

"No, you were great," Sam assures you. "You always are. You know that."

Your cheeks warm at the compliment. "I know," you say, putting on a little bit of a playfully cocky tone. "I just like hearing you say it."

Sam laughs and your stomach does happy flips. "Fine," he teases. "I see how it is. You're just using me for my voice."

"You caught me," you say with enough playfulness in your voice to hopefully combat the heat in your cheeks, even though Sam can't see that.

You find yourself staring longingly at the computer screen, wishing for the hundredth time today alone that you could see Sam's face. But, unfortunately, voice recordings are easier on shitty motel WiFi than video calls are.

“If you think we’ve got everything we need, I’m gonna stop my recording,” you continue, pushing past your wandering thoughts.

“We’re good. Go ahead and stop the recording.”

You do just that, saving the file and uploading it to a file sharing service Sam found. “File’s uploading now. We’ll see how long it takes on this motel WiFi. I’m surprised we didn’t have any connection issues. The WiFi really sucked earlier.”

“Gotta love motel WiFi. What episode number is this?”

“47 according to my notes,” you reply. “We’re not even to 50 and you’re already losing track?”

“I’m running two podcasts. There’s only so much my brain can handle.”

“What? Sam Winchester’s brain has a limit? Alert the media.”

You can practically hear his eyes rolling. “Ha ha. You still chasing that vamp nest?”

“Unfortunately. I’m gonna meet up with Allen Burton tomorrow. He caught wind of the nest moving south past Moab.”

“Allen. I’m not familiar with that name. He’s experienced?”

“Not as experienced as I would prefer but everyone else is caught up in something or on the other end of the country, and I’m not waiting around for these bastards to kill anyone else.”

Sam makes a soft, displeased sound. “Be careful, okay?”

Your heart warms at the concern in Sam’s voice and you try to play it off with a little joking. “Always am.”

Sam doesn’t fall for your change of tone, though. “Y/N. Please. Vampires are no joke.”

“I know. I’ll be careful,” you promise, suddenly eager to reassure him.

“Call or text me when you’ve got the nest wrapped up?”

“Of course.”

---

Sam is reluctant to end the call. He always is. Y/N is just so easy to talk to, which is part of why they make such good co-hosts. Recording their weekly episodes are one of the highlights of his week.

He reaches over and flicks the switch on the wall behind his desk - the one connected to the “Quiet Please. Recording in Progress” sign and the red light above his office door. This was his own special addition to this room and the wiring was a giant pain in the ass but it was definitely worth it to minimize the sounds in the hall outside. 

Someone knocks on the door as soon as the sign and light are turned off. “Come in,” he calls, saving his own audio file to a folder he’ll download Y/N’s to once it’s uploaded.

“Ya done in here?” Dean asks, poking his head in.

“Done with Criminal History,” Sam tells him, spinning his chair around. Another worthwhile investment, his nice desk chair. “Still gotta record an interview for the War Room.”

“I’m Sam Winchester,” Dean says in a gruff voice, stepping fully into the room. “Welcome to the War Room.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “I don’t sound like that.”

“You totally sound like that.”

“Do you have a reason for being here or are you just being annoying?”

Dean holds up a plate Sam didn’t notice he had. “Dinner.”

“Have I really been in here that long?” Sam asks, happily accepting the plate to find that Dean made chicken and rice with chipotle green onion gravy.

“You sure have. You and Y/N must’ve been a coupla of old Chatty Cathy’s today.”

“Yeah, it took us a while to get going,” Sam admits around a bite of food.

“What’s she been up to?”

“Still tracking that vamp nest. It’s moved into southern Utah now and she’s gonna meet up with another hunter, some guy named Allen, to finally take care of it. Well, that’s what she’s hoping for, at least.”

“You two gonna hang out once she wraps that case up?”

Dean shoots Sam a wink and Sam responds with a glare. That only prompts his brother to laugh.

“Seriously, Sammy,” Dean says. “You’ve been digital pen pals for over a year. It’s about time you finally meet.”

Dean’s right and Sam knows he is, but it’s his duty as the younger brother to never admit it. Truthfully, Sam’s dying to meet Y/N. As hunters, they’re both a little paranoid about new people and despite knowing each other for so long, they’ve never actually video chatted, let alone met in person. He trusts Y/N, though. He feels like he really knows who she is, after all their texting and phone calls pre-podcast, all the time they spend just talking ‘off the clock’, and the hours of recorded chat he sometimes edits down into bonus episodes.

In all honesty, Sam likes Y/N. He likes her a lot. He’d never tell her that, though. They’ve got a good thing going and he doesn’t want to ruin that with his own mess of feelings when it’s so much easier to just keep things to himself.

“We’ll see,” is all Sam gives his brother. He drains his water bottle washing down a mouthful of rice and shakes the empty container at Dean. “Can you go fill this?”

“I’m not your butler,” Dean grumbles even as he takes the water bottle.

“Thank you!” Sam calls after him, spinning to put his plate on the desk and really go to town on his dinner. It’s a simple recipe but a delicious one, if a little spicy.

Dean returns with the water bottle just as Sam is scraping his plate clean.

“You’re the best,” Sam says, happily accepting the bottle in exchange for the plate.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean replies. “Don’t you forget it.”

“I won’t. Now get out so I can record.”

As soon as the door is closed behind Dean, Sam flicks his sign on again and swings over to his microphone. He drinks a little water to clear his throat, checks the clock to see that he has a few minutes left until his guest hunter calls, and hits the record button. A thirty-second wait for white noise and then he leans in a little closer to the microphone than he usually does for Criminal History.

“I’m Sam Winchester,” he says, unable to resist being just a little dramatic. “Welcome to the War Room.”

---

Y/N texts Sam right up until she and Allen are headed out to where they think the vamps are hiding, three days after they’d first met up.

She doesn’t text Sam after that.

---

"You've reached Y/N. I'm probably off having more fun than you are. Leave a message."

Sam signs, scrubbing a hand over his face as he enters the bunker kitchen. "Y/N, it's Sam. Again. Please call me as soon as you can." He hangs up, tapping his phone against his hand as he fights the urge to call again.

"She still not answering?" Dean asks from where he's standing at the stove frying bacon.

Sam shakes his head and shoved his phone in his pocket. "It's been almost a week. I'm getting really worried."

"Do you know where the nest was? Maybe you should go check on her."

"Somewhere in southern Utah. I don't know exactly where, though. Last we spoke she said the vamps had holed up somewhere not on a map." Sam slams one hand flat against the door of the fridge before running that same hand through his hair. "Shit, I should've gotten the coordinates from her."

"Hey, hey," Dean says, dumping bacon onto a paper towel and returning the pan to the burner. "I'm sure she's fine. She probably just lost her phone somewhere and hasn't been able to get a new one"

"After a week?" Sam shoots Dean an incredulous look.

"Just trying to think positively."

Sam slumps, leaning against the fridge. "I know. I'm just-"

"Really worried. I know. I can tell." Dean nudges Sam to the side so he can get a carton of eggs from the fridge. "Are there any hunters we know that are in the area and can check on her?"

"I don't know. I think Charlie was in Idaho."

"Well,” Dean says, cracking a couple of eggs straight into the bacon grease that still coats the pan. “Go give Charlie a call."

Sam feels a little better having something he can do right now and he immediately pulls his phone out. He realizes too late that Charlie is in a different timezone, but by some miracle Charlie is just getting back to her car after a salt and burn and answers after the second ring. She promises to head south and see if she can track down Y/N.

"I'll keep you updated," she promises. "It's almost a seven-hour drive, though, and I need a few hours of shut-eye before I get on the road."

Sam nods, stirring a bit of creamer into his coffee. "Do what you need to do. I don't want you putting yourself in danger."

"I'll text you when I'm on the road."

"Thanks, Charlie. I really appreciate it."

"Hey, man. After everything you've done for me? Checking up on someone is the least I can do. Plus, Y/N is a friend, too. But I know you guys are really close and it's not like her to be out of contact this long."

Sam leans against the counter, suppressing another sigh. It feels like he’s done that a hundred times in the last hour alone.

“Hey,” Charlie says gently, seeming to sense Sam’s distress. “We’ll find her.”

“Thanks, Charlie,” Sam murmurs. “I’ll let you get some sleep.”

They end the call and Sam turns his attention to his coffee, fighting to keep his mind from wandering.

“It’ll be fine,” Dean says from where he’s now sitting at the table, mouth full of eggs and bacon. “Eat some bacon and find something to distract yourself.”

“I’ll try,” Sam mutters, snagging a piece of bacon and heading off to his office.

---

Sam’s really glad they’re ahead on recording for Criminal History because he’s able to lose himself in editing and getting the episode uploaded. Then he gets the next episode of War Room ready to go. From there, though, all he has left is to edit more episodes of Criminal History and he just… can't. He can't sit in his office and listen to her voice when he doesn't know if she's even alive 

No. Don't think like that. He rubs both palms over his face, trying to scrub that horrible thought from his brain. She's alive. She has to be.

--

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--

Team Forever: @mrswhozeewhatsis @books-and-icecream @laughing-at-the-darkness @tumbler-tidbits @imsuperawkward

Team Sam: @saxxxology

Team TFL: @wonderfulworldofwinchester @kickingitwithkirk @muchamusedaboutnothing @ellen-reincarnated1967