#the text is all different sizes but fixing it seems complicated

[kimchokejin]

Tagged by @seoksao to do the "which character" personality test and post my results and honestly thank you so much for tagging me this was so fun because i'm obsessed with comprehensive personality quizzes (shocker) and i got a bunch of my coworkers to take it too and i loved seeing everyone's results! i could fit my top 46 in the screenshot so that's what you're getting

i could also see which character i was like from specific shows so they're not on the list but i was also similar to eric from that 70s show, jonah from superstore (a callout), peeta from the hunger games, and reid from criminal minds <3

Tagging: don't be nervous you can do this @courtthisdisaster (if you wanted to post it!), @blueside-hobi, @cheekyquokka, @hopeinthebox, @mutedstring, @not-so-secretly-mairon, @stardiviner13, and anyone who sees this!

[2023-512hyunseo]

Redsign the type speciment booklet

The picture on the left (the first picture) is the design before modification and the picture on the right (the last picture) is the final design.

I gave it the name. The biggest feature of my Type Specimen booklet is that it shows two countries, cultures, and languages through pepeha, so I wanted to emphasise it, so I named it Two Places. I also moved the name I wrote on the back cover to the front cover.

The plain back cover was also changed to a gradient colour to match the front cover. The name of the booklet was placed up and down, and the bottom text was turned upside down to give it a look that looked like a reflection.

I wrote a whole page on the left about fonts and font designers, but I deleted them all and changed them to rationale. I wrote more about why I chose this font and what the connection is between the font and Pepeha. I also added more Korean text so that you can see and feel it yourself.

When I first designed it, I tried to create a beautiful design using various colours while showing the diversity of fonts. However, after I finished the design, I realised that the use of various colours, various fonts, and irregular arrangements made it less readable, and everything was bad.

To fix this problem, I thought I should add more brevity, so I used one font style and highlighted only the parts I wanted to emphasise with bold. I liked the box used in the previous design, so I brought it back.

I used words related to me that are not related to pepeha, so I changed them to words related to pepeha.

I tried using a grid to create a page that showed uppercase and lowercase letters, but the gap between the alphabets was too wide and the size of the letters was too small.

To fix this, I redesigned the grid and increased the size of the letters. The white background seems to interfere with the perfection, so I deleted it and added NZ and KO to the background instead. In the previous design, I used blue and green as the point colours, so I tried to give a point with blue and green lines, but it seemed more clear to use only pink and white, so I changed it to white. The unbalanced layout seems to reduce readability, so I switched to central alignment.

I like the design, but I wanted to change it because it looks ugly somewhere.

What I wanted to show on this page is the weight and type of font (nomal and condensed). Using this font, I wanted to show how the feeling was different when using short words and long words, but the space between the letters was narrow and there were too many words, so the screen became full and the design became frustrating.

I focused on showing one word, changed the background to monochromatic to make the contrast more clear, and added a line to add a design feel.

This is an attempt at a different design. I liked the modified design as shown in the picture above, but I tried a new design because it seemed a bit lacking.

This design emphasises the weight and condensed font, showing various weights on the left page and various weights in the condensed font on the right page.

This design was chosen as the final design because it better shows the fonts.

It is a page that shows how to feel when using fonts as body text.

The first design I made was one I made when I had no idea how to design it. It is not a pretty design for anyone to see, so I thought that I should revise it later while making it.

All previous texts have been erased and rewritten in relation to Pepeha. I used four types of weights while explaining the four places. In the lower left corner, I wrote down the source of the used article.

It is a page that shows numbers and glyphs.

I wanted to show numbers and glyphs in a design rather than simply listing them, as when showing the alphabet. Each page was made of numbers and glyphs, both of which seemed too complicated to look at because they were both highly designed, so I handed them two pages each.

On the number page, I used three colours I had set and black, but it seemed like too much colour, so I removed the black and used only the three colours I had chosen. The left page showed numbers from 0 to 9, and on the right page, two beautiful numbers were enlarged to emphasise the charm of the font.

The glyph page already shows well-designed glyphs and does not have to show all the glyphs, so I just added more margins to the left.

[romioneficfest]

Double Hazelnut Almond Milk Macchiato

Title: Double Hazlenut Almond Milk Macchiato

Prompt: Day 2/Meet-Cute

Tumblr Name: 

Rating: General

Summary: Muggle AU. Hermione Granger is new in town, and she has a pretty complicated coffee order.

Trigger Warnings: N/A

xxx

It’s seven o’clock on a Monday, and the morning rush is in full swing at The Burrow. Forming a line out the door and around the block are dozens of important, yet fidgety business people with complicated coffee orders, and little patience.

Ron Weasley opens every morning, Monday through Friday, and he handles it well. Most customers are regulars, and he’s already memorized their morning joe specifications.

The majority of the morning crowd has been forgiving of the occasional slip-up. Seven years of working the first shift at the family-owned coffee shop means a history of accidental extra-whipped cream, almond milk instead of soy, and finger-slips on the espresso machine, and the customers always return.

Maybe it’s because they’re too tired to notice their Americanos are actually Flat-Whites. Or maybe it’s the hospitable vibe of The Burrow that makes complaining about bad latte art seem as petty as telling Grandma her muffins are dry.

Every now and then, there’s a new customer, and Ron has to whip out his earnest, people-pleasing attitude to assure that the newbie sticks around. He’ll do what it takes to turn them into a regular, and make them thankful that they chose the local joint over the cookie-cutter corporate shop across the street.

‘Take an interest in their day!’ his Mum would say. ‘Validate their order! Then make sure to ask their name, and use it!’

Monday morning, at seven o’clock, is one of those times.

“Double Hazelnut Almond Milk Macchiato.”

“Size?”

“Medium.”

The customer is about Ron’s age, and probably new in town. She doesn’t yet know that at The Burrow, ‘Double Macchiatos’ are simply called ‘Tall Macchiatos’, and instead of ‘small’, ‘medium’, and ‘large’, The Burrow’s sizes go by their family pets in order of mass: Pig, Errol, and Chudley.

“Great,” he says, grinning, “coming right up.”

“Make sure it’s almond milk,” she reminds him.

“Yup.”

“And hazelnut,” she adds.

“Yup.”

“Double-shot—”

“I heard you,” says Ron impatiently. Have a little trust, lady.

“Okay, just making sure!”

“Can I get a name for the order?”

“Hermione.”

Ron stares at the girl. Her brown eyes are round and drowsy, her hair is unkempt and wild, which contradicts the clean lines of the business suit she’s wearing. She looks so normal. “Can you repeat that?”

“Hermione. H-E-R-M-I-O-N-E.”

He hadn’t asked her to spell it, and the way she emphasizes each syllable reminds Ron of how adults would read to him when he was a kid. It’s condescending.

“Coming right up, Hermione.”

“Great.”

Ron resists rolling his eyes. He can handle a double hazelnut almond milk macchiato, and if he screws it up, she probably wouldn’t even know the difference. Most customers wouldn’t.

As Hermione paces by the counter checking her watch, he whips up a medium, double, hazelnut, almond milk ...cappuccino. Just to test his theory, of course.

“Here you go!”

He hands the drink to Hermione and watches as she takes a sip. Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, he’s convinced she can tell…

Then her face melts back to a polite grin. “Thank you!”

Maybe she can’t. Ron shakes his head as she turns and leaves, turning his attention to the next customer’s order.

Hermione returns on Tuesday morning at 7 am sharp. Her hair is pulled back into a stiff, tight ponytail that just barely lassos her wild mane, and she probably checks her watch fifteen times while in line. Ron suppresses a scoff—she can just make coffee at home if she’s in such a rush.

“Morning, Hermione!” he says with a forced smile. “Same as yesterday?”

She looks taken aback at first, clearly not expecting him to remember her name. “Um, yes, same as yesterday.”

“Coming right up.”

“Medium, Double, Hazelnut—“

“Almond Milk Macchiato,” he says. “I got it.”

“Okay,” shrugs Hermione, eyebrows raised. “Then do it.”

What’s her problem? “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she snaps. “I need coffee, not a counseling session.”

Wow. He wants to retort back, but his mother’s nagging voice in his head stops him.  ‘Always be extra-polite to grumpy customers; remember they haven’t had their coffee fix yet.’

“Of course,” Ron says through gritted teeth, in as polite a tone as he can manage. To satisfy his desire to argue, he whips her up a medium, double, hazelnut soy macchiato, only half-hoping she doesn’t notice.

He doesn’t get a chance to see if she does, because she’s out the door before a single sip.

Her Wednesday return is accompanied by a looming dread in the pit of Ron’s stomach. He hates rude people, especially at 7am. Ron spots her impatiently tapping her foot in line, as usual, and prepares himself for their interaction.

“Hello,” he says politely, stopping himself before the natural ‘how are you?’ escapes his lips. “What can I get for you today?”

“Hi,” she says with a sheepish smile. “The same as yesterday.”

“Which is?”

“Erm,” she stammers, her expression confused, “a medium—“

“I’m kidding,” he laughs, “I know your order.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

She pays, and Ron fixes her a medium double caramel almond milk macchiato.

“Sorry about yesterday,” she says when she picks up her drink. “You were just trying to be nice, and I was rude.”

“Oh,��� starts Ron, who isn’t expecting an apology. “That’s okay. Happens a lot during the morning shift.”

She smiles and nods before turning around to leave, taking a sip on her way out the door. Ron watches for her reaction, but doesn’t catch it.

She seems to be in a better mood by Thursday.

“The usual,” is all she says when she arrives at the counter, but this time she’s smiling. She looks different when she smiles—pretty. Something else unidentifiable replaces the dread in his stomach. Ron wonders if it’s the first time he’s seen her smile or if it’s just the first time he’s noticed.

But based on the tired circles under her eyes, she’s exhausted, so Ron prepares her a medium triple hazelnut almond milk macchiato. An extra shot of espresso never hurt anyone, and maybe it’ll help her get through the day. Or maybe, she’ll experience a coffee crash and have to return to The Burrow later.

Both good things.

“Just so you know,” she says as Ron hands over her cup, “it’s been a stressful week. I started a new job, and it’s not going well.”

“I’m—I’m sorry to hear that,” says Ron. He looks into her eyes, and for a moment, they soften. There’s more to her tough and professional exterior.

“These have made the week just a little better,” she adds, holding up her macchiato, before smiling softly and turning to leave.

Of course, Hermione requests her usual on Friday, and Ron is quickly running out of ideas for ways to screw with her order.

In celebration of the weekend, he might be able to pass a large off as a special treat. Other than that, he has to stick to the request—a double hazelnut almond milk macchiato. The first of the week. Better not mess it up.

As soon as he pops the cap onto her cup, it looks empty. He reaches for his marker again and scribbles something else—his phone number.

He’s not sure what compels him to do it. Maybe it’s because the larger size leaves so much white space. It could be because the grumpy brunette has been occupying his thoughts all week — he’s never purposely tried to fuck up someone’s coffee five days in a row.

Or maybe, it’s because when she walked in this morning, he smiled, and he just wants to learn more about the woman who thinks she knows what a double hazelnut almond milk macchiato tastes like.

She’ll probably ignore it anyway.

But later that day, his phone buzzes on the counter, and he scrambles for it faster than he’d run away from a mob of spiders.

The text is from an unknown number, but there’s no mystery. It only took five days, but you finally got my order correct!

Ron scowls at his phone. She knew? She was duping him?

Well, Hermione, why’d you keep coming back?

As soon as the message sends, he’s impatient, tapping his foot, pacing, and jittery. Just like Hermione every morning.

His phone flashes and buzzes, and Ron almost drops it by checking too quickly.

It wasn’t for the coffee…

[be11atrixthestrange]

Double Hazelnut Almond Milk Macchiato

Hermione Granger is new in town, and she has a very complicated coffee order. Prompt: Meet Cute

Top 4 in the 2021 Romione Ficlet Fest!

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

Double Hazelnut Almond Milk Macchiato

It's seven o'clock on a Monday, and the morning rush is in full swing at The Burrow. Forming a line out the door and around the block are dozens of important, yet fidgety business people with complicated coffee orders, and little patience.

Ron Weasley opens every morning, Monday through Friday, and he handles it well. Most customers are regulars, and he's already memorized their morning joe specifications.

The majority of the morning crowd has been forgiving of the occasional slip-up. Seven years of working the first shift at the family-owned coffee shop means a history of accidental extra-whipped cream, almond milk instead of soy, and finger-slips on the espresso machine, and the customers always return.

Maybe it's because they're too tired to notice their Americanos are actually Flat-Whites. Or maybe it's the hospitable vibe of The Burrow that makes complaining about bad latte art seem as petty as telling Grandma her muffins are dry.

Every now and then, there's a new customer, and Ron has to whip out his earnest, people-pleasing attitude to assure that the newbie sticks around. He'll do what it takes to turn them into a regular, and make them thankful that they chose the local joint over the cookie-cutter corporate shop across the street.

'Take an interest in their day!' his Mum would say. 'Validate their order! Then make sure to ask their name, and use it!'

Monday morning, at seven o'clock, is one of those times.

"Double Hazelnut Almond Milk Macchiato."

"Size?"

"Medium."

The customer is about Ron's age, and probably new in town. She doesn't yet know that at The Burrow, 'Double Macchiatos' are simply called 'Tall Macchiatos', and instead of 'small', 'medium', and 'large', The Burrow's sizes go by their family pets in order of mass: Pig, Errol, and Chudley.

"Great," he says, grinning, "coming right up."

"Make sure it's almond milk," she reminds him.

"Yup."

"And Hazelnut," she adds.

"Yup."

"Double-shot—"

"I heard you," says Ron impatiently. Have a little trust, lady.

"Okay, just making sure!"

"Can I get a name for the order?"

"Hermione."

Ron stares at the girl. Her brown eyes are round and drowsy, her hair is unkempt and wild, which contradicts the clean lines of the business suit she's wearing. She looks so normal. "Can you repeat that?"

"Hermione. H-E-R-M-I-O-N-E."

He hadn't asked her to spell it, and the way she emphasizes each syllable reminds Ron of how adults would read to him when he was a kid. It's condescending.

"Coming right up, Hermione."

"Great."

Ron resists rolling his eyes. He can handle a double hazelnut almond milk macchiato, and if he screws it up, she probably wouldn't even know the difference. Most customers wouldn't.

As Hermione paces by the counter checking her watch, he whips up a medium, double, hazelnut, almond milk ...cappuccino. Just to test his theory, of course.

"Here you go!"

He hands the drink to Hermione and watches as she takes a sip. Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, he's convinced she can tell…

Then her face melts back to a polite grin. "Thank you!"

Maybe she can't. Ron shakes his head as she turns and leaves, turning his attention to the next customer's order.

Hermione returns on Tuesday morning at 7 am sharp. Her hair is pulled back into a stiff, tight ponytail that just barely lassos her wild mane, and she probably checks her watch fifteen times while in line. Ron suppresses a scoff—she can just make coffee at home if she's in such a rush.

"Morning, Hermione!" he says with a forced smile. "Same as yesterday?"

She looks taken aback at first, clearly not expecting him to remember her name. "Um, yes, same as yesterday."

"Coming right up."

"Medium, Double, Hazelnut—"

"Almond Milk Macchiato," he says. "I got it."

"Okay," shrugs Hermione, eyebrows raised. "Then do it."

What's her problem? "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she snaps. "I need coffee, not a counseling session."

Wow. He wants to retort back, but his mother's nagging voice in his head stops him. 'Always be extra-polite to grumpy customers; remember they haven't had their coffee fix yet.'

"Of course," Ron says through gritted teeth, in as polite a tone as he can manage. To satisfy his desire to argue, he whips her up a medium, double, hazelnut soy macchiato, only half-hoping she doesn't notice.

He doesn't get a chance to see if she does, because she's out the door before a single sip.

Her Wednesday return is accompanied by a looming dread in the pit of Ron's stomach. He hates rude people, especially at 7am. Ron spots her impatiently tapping her foot in line, as usual, and prepares himself for their interaction.

"Hello," he says politely, stopping himself before the natural 'how are you?' escapes his lips. "What can I get for you today?"

"Hi," she says with a sheepish smile. "The same as yesterday."

"Which is?"

"Erm," she stammers, her expression confused, "a medium—"

"I'm kidding," he laughs, "I know your order."

"Oh. Thank you."

She pays, and Ron fixes her a medium double caramel almond milk macchiato.

"Sorry about yesterday," she says when she picks up her drink. "You were just trying to be nice, and I was rude."

"Oh," starts Ron, who isn't expecting an apology. "That's okay. Happens a lot during the morning shift."

She smiles and nods before turning around to leave, taking a sip on her way out the door. Ron watches for her reaction, but doesn't catch it.

She seems to be in a better mood by Thursday.

"The usual," is all she says when she arrives at the counter, but this time she's smiling. She looks different when she smiles—pretty. Something else unidentifiable replaces the dread in his stomach. Ron wonders if it's the first time he's seen her smile or if it's just the first time he's noticed.

But based on the tired circles under her eyes, she's exhausted, so Ron prepares her a medium triple hazelnut almond milk macchiato. An extra shot of espresso never hurt anyone, and maybe it'll help her get through the day. Or maybe, she'll experience a coffee crash and have to return to The Burrow later.

Both good things.

"Just so you know," she says as Ron hands over her cup, "it's been a stressful week. I started a new job, and it's not going well."

"I'm—I'm sorry to hear that," says Ron. He looks into her eyes, and for a moment, they soften. There's more to her tough and professional exterior.

"These have made the week just a little better," she adds, holding up her macchiato, before smiling softly and turning to leave.

Of course, Hermione requests her usual on Friday, and Ron is quickly running out of ideas for ways to screw with her order.

In celebration of the weekend, he might be able to pass a large off as a special treat. Other than that, he has to stick to the request—a double hazelnut almond milk macchiato. The first of the week. Better not mess it up.

As soon as he pops the cap onto her cup, it looks empty. He reaches for his marker again and scribbles something else—his phone number.

He's not sure what compels him to do it. Maybe it's because the larger size leaves so much white space. It could be because the grumpy brunette has been occupying his thoughts all week — he's never purposely tried to fuck up someone's coffee five days in a row.

Or maybe, it's because when she walked in this morning, he smiled, and he just wants to learn more about the woman who thinks she knows what a double hazelnut almond milk macchiato tastes like.

She'll probably ignore it anyway.

But later that day, his phone buzzes on the counter, and he scrambles for it faster than he'd run away from a mob of spiders.

The text is from an unknown number, but there's no mystery. It only took five days, but you finally got my order correct!

Ron scowls at his phone. She knew? She was duping him?

Well, Hermione, why'd you keep coming back?

As soon as the message sends, he's impatient, tapping his foot, pacing, and jittery. Just like Hermione every morning.

His phone flashes and buzzes, and Ron almost drops it by checking too quickly.

It wasn't for the coffee…

[jojoreadwhat]

lie  / h.s. x fem!reader • smut

where y/n has had enough of their “arrangement” and harry is unsure about his feelings.

words; 4k, this isn’t proofread and I’m sorry

warning; friends with benefits theme. angst, strong language, sexual content including handjob, oral(f!receiving) fingering, edging, penetrative sex. under final cut. then will be concluding with lots of fluff and aftercare. reader is advised

I listened to this

+

it was going on 3am and Harry was finally giving up on the idea of sleep.

he thought he would have fallen asleep by now after the day he had previously. jam packed with photoshoots, interviews, some time at the studio with Mitch and then ended the night with a party. it was seeming like the liquor he downed earlier on, coursing through his veins wasn’t ready to slow anytime soon yet. and he was over it. tossing and turning in his king sized bed since midnight. he sighed roughly to himself the moment his back met the mattress, lying there still now. defeated and annoyed, looking up at the clear, white ceiling above him. with his mind speckled in thought, the real reason why he wasn’t in a heavy slumber right now.

tonight wasn’t the first one without a good night of sleep. this was night five now. with you on his mind and not next to him. and it wasn’t because you miles apart from each other, on different sides of the earth no. you on his mind wasn’t something new or missing you either. but it was different this time around. when a few days ago, that all changed. when he let you walk out that door, because of him.

harry hasn’t seen you or heard from you for nearly a week now. since you stormed out of this room. he remembers the moment, so vividly. it hasnt left his brain, instead embedded itself to remind him of how much of an asshole he truly is. your naked frame scurrying around his room, picking up all your clothes scattered from the events that took place shortly before. with anger, embarrassment, the sadness that you contained by biting your bottom lip. after spilling your heart out to him, that you loved him. breaking the first rule to your arrangement.

you and harry had a very complicated friendship in the last eight months. at first it wasn’t, it was a very traditional one. both of you met at a mutual friends party a year earlier, hitting it off from the start and the rest became history. you two were inseparable, doing everything, literally, together. you were his date to most of his events, went on trips and getaways together, did mundane things like grocery shopping, which was always a experience. you both hung out all the time. smoking together most nights and playing records, while laying on his living room floor. talking about everything to anything. harry even gave you a key and your own spot in his dresser. you two were a dream team, the friendship that many aspired to have. the one that everyone was waiting to watch bloom into something more.

things changed out of the blue one night. you had come over, distraught over a guy that you were seeing for two months who wasn’t ready for anything to go further. Harry and you did the next best thing, passing a blunt back and forth among each other. lying on his living room floor, listening to fleetwood mac faintly in the background. talking over the worthless two months, the piece of shit of a guy Jared was and how finding love in this day and age just didn’t make sense. next thing you knew, Harry’s waist was wrapped in your legs, his weight heavy enough on you as he kissed you hard and long. your fingers twisted in his little dark brown curls at the back of his neck as pulled him back down to you. neither of you knew how it started, what made the sudden change but you never looked back.

this friends with benefits thing went on for eight months, filling in some void that you both were missing. it was great, really great. you had each other whenever you wanted. whatever how long you wanted. nobody knew about it as far as you know. you were careful, even when the need was necessary at strange times or at places other than both your beds. there was one time that harry flew you out to italy for a weekend for nothing but that (and you as a plus one at gucci) it was a weekend that neither of you would admit, still gave you both chills looking back. all around your arrangement worked, it wasn’t a disaster like some of the stories or movies told. it was perfect in every way.

until now. where you both were going through the longest drought to date and feelings were involved.

for harry, the night that you admitted how you felt for him after all this time. it wasn’t that he didn’t feel the same as you, he just wasn’t sure that he did. he needed you more than he realized, more then he wanted to believe. for a while now. he has been denying the change for so long that when he was faced with the reciprocation, he froze and put his guard up. but in all reality, he has been in love with you since the beginning of time.

you were his girl, his person. you knew him in and out, you didn’t care about his status or money. you treated him as harry. your best friend. his number one cheerleader. the hug he needed after a rough day. the laugh he wanted hear before he closed his eyes and when he woke up. the child like heart of yours as you sat in the cart, sneaking candy in the cashier line. the dance partner he needed in the early morning in the middle of the kitchen. his plus one that he was excited to have on red carpet with his arm around. the lips he wanted to kiss, all the time and not just in the moment. so soft and sweet against his. he wanted, needed everything before and after the arrangement. he needed you and he should’ve told you before letting you leave.

in a rush, harry threw his gray duvet off his shirtless himself, sitting up and standing out of his bed. not caring about his hair or the sleep deprivation evident on his face. he threw on his black hoodie, searching for his cream vans and heading down the hall to grab his keys to his Mercedes and out to the driveway he went. on his way to you.

——————————���———————————————

not finding the ability to sleep. you were laying on your couch, lights off with only the blue light reflection off the tv screen while aimlessly watching a movie you didn’t catch the title to. this was becoming a ritual for the last few nights. awake past your usual time, feeling it hit hard in the morning. drinking the sleep you missed prior in a paper cup. overwhelmed with the same thoughts from morning to night. you huffed, having enough of it. hastily flicking off the tv by the remote before turning over on the couch, clutching the yellow throw to yourself and closing your eyes tight.

after no calls or texts, a clear indication that it was over. you were feeling like a fool on how much you allowed this to get to you. you shouldn’t be feeling this sad. you finally got your answer. you shouldn’t be missing him. you should be pissed off. mad. you should be going out with your friends and trying to find someone to forget the dreadful blissful months you endured. but you’re not. because you miss him. because you love him. everything little thing about him and he doesn’t feel the same. you’ve never felt so stupid in your life. so confused by everything.

none of it made sense. his response beat the shit out of you. you werent expecting him to love you back but at the same time, you knew there had to be something there. the way things were even when you weren’t tangled up in each other limbs, fucking like rabbits. harry gave you so much confidence that he was feeling the same way about you like you did for him. holding your hand in public, kissing in the most exposed places, never denying that you weren’t his girl when asked at events. instead, his grip on your waist would tighten. he would smile at you, kissing the top of your head. making sure you were okay at all times, keeping his focus on you no matter the situation. when you were alone, he would declare you as his all the time. every fiber of your skin he touched “all mine.” he would say, so low to hear but for your ears only. you wanted it all back. even if it was all for fun and games.

hypothetically kicking yourself for being so brave. for placing your heart on your sleeve for it only to be held by cheap thread. for wanting it back, for wanting to continue the charades because it’s better than nothing at all. you didn’t deserve that. you needed better. someone willing to give you that in reality and not only behind closed doors. someone who is lucky to have you at all times and not when its for a fixing.

you sighed to yourself, rolling back over to glance at your phone on the coffee table. bright in the darkened room, squinting to see, it read now quarter to 4am and you rolled your eyes. done with the fiddle faddle with your thoughts, you needed sleep and you were over allowing this situation to consume you further. rising from the couch, you wrapped the throw over your shoulders to protect you from the chill from here to your bedroom. looking around to make sure all was good before continuing on.

approaching the foyer of where your staircase and living room entrance met. you were startled by hard, repetitive knocks to your front door. you froze where you stood. who could be here at this hour? You thought to yourself. you quietly reached for a vase on a nearby table. creeping closer to the door.

the knock happened again before stopping once more. “love, y/n.” you heard the raspy, tired voice from the other side of the door. it was Harry. “it’me, please open up.”

you bit your lip, rolling your eyes. fuck, you muttered to yourself before placing the vase back down. unlocking the door and flinging it open gently. there he stood in front of you. in your favorite attire, all casual in just a hoodie and joggers that hugged his bottom half just right. his chestnut hair, a mess and disheveled, golden at the top from the porch light above him. scruff peppered around his mouth and along his jaw. his green eyes like daggers on you as he watched you search him, using the time to figure to say hey right. the stare made you feel a bit beside yourself, pulling the throw closer to yourself and over your flimsy pink cami paired with gray sweats. you cleared your throat, looking at the street and breaking the silent stare.

“I hope your not here to get something from me.” you stated, then. looking anywhere but at him like you wanted. taking everything you to keep yourself together as you placed between wanting to yell at him and tell him to never see you again and wanting to pull him in to make up for the lost time. “ha, no.” harry shook his head at your comment. raising his hand to his hair, raking his fingers through it, nervously. “I came m’ere to talk.” he said, “if that’s alright?”

you both stood there for a moment before opening the door further slowly. giving him room to come right in. his cologne of vanilla and sandalwood hitting the brim of your nose the second he slipped by you. something you missed, being caught up in it. you pressed your back against the door, hearing it shut behind yourself as you followed after harry to the living room where he made himself at home. he stood poised next to your gray linen couch, waiting to see you approach the room before he took a seat on it. patting the spot next to him. overwhelmed by the time, by his presence and all the emotions bouncing around like a pin ball machine in your mind and body. you treading carefully around your coffee table, joining him shortly after and becoming leveled with his green orbs.

it was quiet for the first few minutes, and not the comfortable kind that you’d fall into from time to time. watching Harry’s rosy plump lips open and close, seeing his hand rise to them, his index and thumb pinching his bottom lip, struggling with what to say first. tongue tied by the fact that you let him in in the first place. he wasn’t prepared to not be given a fight. he sighed, roughly. “I’ve missed you so much.” he began, taking you by surprise and lacing his fingers with yours.

you shook your head, leaving his grasp before standing up from the couch. “please don’t lie to me, harry.” stopping whatever his plan was firsthand. “I’m not falling into this.. trap. I told you how I felt and that’s that. don’t take it for granted.” harry stood up to meet you, wanting to get closer, pull you closer to him but he left the space for you.

“M’not lying. I missed you.” going on, “I came ‘ere to talk. to tell ya I’m sorry. that I regret the moment that ya walked out the door.” he finished, his eyes never leaving yours for a second as he spoke. you furrowed your brows, the confusion rising again. “why are you sorry? you don’t feel the same and I just have to deal with that. that’s nothing to be–” harry grew closer at the last bit of your speech. cutting in. “but it wasn’t the truth. I do feel the same and I let you leave thinking I didn’t. that’s what I’m sorry about.”

you were stuck. shocked to say the least. you couldn’t believe what just came out of his mouth, but your inner self wasn’t going to let it sink in so easily. “please don’t do this. harry, if you lying to me. I will never forgive you. so please stop.” feeling your eyes becoming glassy as tears threatened the rim. harry shook his head, his hands meeting at the top of your shoulders as he looked you in the eyes. “I won’t stop because I’m not lying.” feeling his hands running down your arms, slow to stop and grab your hands in his. “I love you, y/n. I fucking love you.” you looked up at him at rise in volume at his last words. his eyes searching your face and yours doing just the same. trying to find any flake that this wasn’t real, that what he just said was only in your mind and wasn’t just said into the air. you bit at your now quivering bottom lip, trying to keep yourself together.

“if you’re messing with me, H. I swear to god” needing another reassurance, harry flashed his cheeky infamous smile at the use of his nickname from you. feeling normalcy, before his large, soft hands left yours to scoop your face. tilting it up to his. “I mean it. with everything I have, all I own. I mean it.” he said, “I love you, I always have and will.” his words silver off his lips. you couldn’t explain the feeling that rouse in you but you felt tears, happy ones, beginning to make way down your cheeks. “I love you too.” you muttered softly to harry, him still smiling toothlessly now as his thumbs collected the droplets. before leaning down and capturing your lips with his.

the moment they met, your body responded immediately. rising in heat from head to toe. melting into harry as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. one hand still caressing your cheek, while the other dug tightly at your waist. the long days of not being wrapped up, sharing sweet pecks or laughs amongst one another was felt right now. the kiss starting out so sweet and tender, feeling the smiles and hearts combust in happiness. soon were taken over by neediness, lust and desire from the lost time. his tongue running along your bottom lip, asking for entry to deepen the kiss. never feeling something so powerful shared between the two of you. never pulling away long enough to catch breath, harry directed you both towards the couch. his hands clasping are your bum, silently telling you to jump into his arms before settling you both down with him beneath you, straddling his lap.

you let out a breathy moan when his lips met the spot connecting your jaw and neck. peppering kisses along your jawline as your fingers got lost in his thick curls. feeling him smiling against you with every little sound only he could get out of you, marking what belonged to him. he pulled away slightly, having you chase his lips and cheeks and leaving him in a fit of chuckles. understanding the neediness you were trying to release, you could feel his against the inside of your thigh. he placed his hands back on your face, pulling you down to kiss you again, before backing away once more and resting his forehead to yours. “do you want to go upstairs?” you asked, softly. hands flattening at the fabric on his broad chest, straightening his shirt. meeting his gaze, harry smiled slightly, cupping your cheek and bringing your lips to his again. “I’d love to.” his warm, minty breath grazing your mouth. you smiled, then.  before rising off of harry. your feet touching the chill of hardwood floor, standing between his legs before reaching out for him to grab a hold of your hand. allowing you to direct him, hand in hand, up the stairs and to your bedroom.

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

the moment harry and you entered the bedroom. he beaconed you to the bed, immediately bringing you down with him. leaving where you left off moments ago, on harry’s lap, hands in his hair. his green eyes, darkened in lust, smirking up at you before his lips met yours in a slow, sweet embrace. 

“I want to take my time with you tonight.” he spoke, breathlessly. Looking up at you, pecking your nose. running his thumbs under eyes, noticing the lack of sleep evident likewise, then along your cheeks and to your bottom lip. “Are you up for that, love?” He asked, like the gentleman he is. “Hm?” eyes on you, going in and kissing your collarbone. leaving you to bite back a cross between a whimper and giggle, “please.” you cried.

”good.” he muttered, softly. smirking and placing both of his hands on you bum, squeezing light before rolling you over so quickly you couldn't register what was happening until you were lying flat on your back, him hovering you now and his teeth were nipping at you ear. you squealed and wiggled beneath his heavy, toned body, and his mouth left kisses on your neck, your collar bone, back to your lips again. one of his tattooed arms, rested next your head, steadying himself while the other roamed your body. savoring any exposed skin of yours on his fingertips. your body following the feeling of his hands as they ran along it, up and down your waist, to your hip. moaning lightly into one of the grazes of your lips, harry's own curling up at the sides.

with his hands clasping your waist and under your shirt. you began to feel the fabric rise up. harry broke his lips away from your neck, rolling the shirt up and over your head. throwing it to the floor. the chill of the room now hitting your topless body, your nipples hardening more to the new adjustment. your hands falling into harry’s hair again as he lowered himself along your body. kissing the skin over your breasts. looking up at you, watching you.  harry took one of your harden nipples into his mouth, the other between his fingers of his hand. tracing X's and O's over and around. him kissing, licking, sucking, biting at every bit of your bare skin. earning him moans and whimpers from you, continuing to watch you lose yourself. feeling privileged to see this sight of you, only him. only he could get this arouse out of you. your head rested on the pillow, a whimpering mess from only his mouth. giving him all the rights to ravage your body. 

the anticipation was getting the best of you. you wanted him now, you were already over with his toying around. “harry, please.” you whimpered, “p-please do something.” harry looked up, smirking at you, devilishly before he climbed back up. your legs wrapped around his middle, pushing him closer to you. “eager aren’t we?” he retorted. you smiled into a moan when you felt his erected shaft underneath his joggers, graze your throbbing clit, covered in your drenched panties. you weren’t the only one.

harry tilted your face up towards his, pecking your lips sweetly and pulling away only centimetres. “stay patient, love.” he muttered, then. before going back down your body again. trickling kisses above the waistband of your sweats. feeling his long, slender fingers slid under the band, pulling the pants down agonizingly slow before he was faced with your panties now. 

he groaned at the sight of the wet spot on them, causing you to gasp when he ran three fingers over your clothed heat. “you’re so wet.” he swallowed, meeting his green eyes with yours, darkened and glazed over in lust and desire. “and its all for me.” not wasting another second before pulling the fabric down off you and you hissing at the sharp chill grace your cunt. 

harry continued to tease, starting from your knee and aligning kisses on your inner thighs. feeling his breath graze where you wanted his mouth the most. you bucked your hips once at him, immediately his hands meeting them “ah ah.” he spoke, you looked down at him, him raising a brow and his green eyes flashing up at you. silently telling you to “be patient.” again. leaving you irritated as your head forcefully met the pillow. but the little tantrum working in your favor when you felt his lips kiss your mound, following a stride of his tongue against your swollen clit. like an electric shock to your body. he worked you slow and hard, careful, taking his time like this was going to be the last. building you up to the top, then slowing down to do it all over again. your hands wrapped up in his curls, bringing him as close as you could. directing him where you wanted him as you rotated your hips until he had enough, holding your lower half down, your legs on his shoulders and your hands in his. as he devoured you like a delicacy. and having you come on his tongue. twice.

once he was done tasting you, so fucked out and spaced, you hadn’t noticed him standing at the end of your bed. undressing himself until he was left in his briefs, crawling back over you, his legs parting yours at the knees as his large hand cupped your cheek, bringing your lips to his. nudging his nose with yours, he pecked your cheek, “are you still with me, love?” he asked, noticing how you were still trying to get to your whereabouts. harry’s fingers of his other hand were drawing little circles to your hip, to the top of your heat. you nodded slow, giving him the go to continue further when you felt his finger slip through your soaked folds, before entering you. you moaned at the feeling, harry now resting his forehead to yours as his fingers moved in and out of you at a generous pace. one of your hands, met harry’s face gently. while your free one went searching passed his tented briefs, before embracing his hard, thicken shaft in your hand. causing harry’s breath to hitch at the contact. collecting the pre-cum at the top of his swollen tip, lubing him up and running your hand tightly around his cock, stroking him. his free hand holding your face close to his, both swallowing each other’s moans in between heated kisses as you got each other off.

harry could feel you tightening around his fingers, growing closer to the edge. he pulled his fingers away from you and backed away from your touch. you shuttered in surprise, pouting from the loss of contact. looking up at him, searching for an explanation for only to be left watering in your mouth from the view of harry the two fingers that were occupied and covered by your juices, into his mouth. tasting you. in a need, you leaned up to meet harry halfway, pulling him into another countless kiss. your hand travelling to his shaft that was resting stiff against his abdomen when his hand met it mid stream, tangling his fingers with yours.

“no love, I need you now.” he commanded, gently pushing you back down. laying on top of you, feeling his cock resting against you. the same hand still wrapped in yours, now next to your head. while the other placed your thigh around him, before wrapping his hand around his shaft, positioning himself perfectly aligned with your cunt. feeling the tip. his head falling into the nook of your neck, his curls tickling your skin, lips warm against your neck and shoulder as he slipped into you, slow.

you gasped at him expanding your walls, being cautious, taking his time as he waited for you adjust to him. muttering sweet nothings, kissing you all over the place before he heard the green light from you. starting a nice rhythm, pulling almost all the way out and thrusting right back in. his hands all over you, his mouth connected to any bit of your skin that he could taste. his moans and grunts grazing hot at your ear were enough to have you orgasm right then and there for him. but any moment that you felt like you were growing closer, harry would slow down. lazily pounding into you, muttering affirmations. “you’re so beautiful.” to “you feel so good, love.”

your new favorite though almost was barely audible when he began to pick up the pace, colliding with the friction of your skin meeting. kissing you deeply, “I love you.” he said, softly but sincere. your eyes opening from focusing on the repetition to his words, “say it again.” you said looking at him with half lidded eyes, your glistening skin in a sheen of sweat. harry smirked big before you watched his mouth almost ‘o’

“I love you, y/n.” he said again. leaving you to moan at the sound of it, leaning up slightly, chasing his lips with yours. “I love you too” you spoke against his mouth, wrapping your hands around his back. soon beginning to dig when you felt yourself growing close.

harry began to feel you clenching around him. “are you close, baby?” he muttered. immursed in the how beautifully your bodies moved today, like they were made for this. you met his gaze again, “y-yes” you stuttered in between a moan, he then peck your lips, grabbing your hands like daggers from his back into his large hands, setting them above your head. beginning to speed up, driving to home base. thrusting into you erratically, both your breathy moans and sounds echoing against the walls of the room. his head falling to meet his mouth to your ear, “come with me, come with me, come with me” he repeated.

and before you could even think of attempting to hold back. without a warning, you cried out in absolute pleasure as your orgasm ripples through you. your back arching, collecting every bit. harry’s hands clasping to meet your middle as he senselessly pounded into you when his hips snapped back, meeting his own euphoria and he released warm and heavy into you. collapsing limply onto your body, his weight heavy and him completely exhausted, but in a unrelaxed, happy state. in a haze from what just took place seconds ago.

you both lied there, motionless. breathless with a dry throat, panting and clammy. you lazily ran your fingers through harry’s hair where his head lied, resting on your chest between your breasts. he slowly looked up at you. his green eyes soft now, his smile, toothlessly and dreamy that you felt butterflies sworm. “you alright, love?” he whispered, you smiled, nodding to answer. your hand, caressing his milky, glistening cheek. leaving you in a fit of giggles, when he turned his mouth in the direction of your palm. kissing it before lazily climbing up you and placing his hands on your cheeks. just staring at each other for a moment, gazing, taking each other in before he smile, kissing your cheek and bringing his attention back to you.

“did I tell you that I love you?” he smiled, feeling heat rise to your cheek. biting your lip, you shrugged. “Mmm, maybe once or twice?” you said, then. wrapping your arms around his neck. harry flashed a bright smile, leaning closer to your lips with his. “well i’ve got all night to tell you more.” he said, before crashing his lips on yours.

[impalas-r-important]

Love of my Life - (7) Stick around

Summary: A little bit more back story about Y/N as she shares her story with Dean.

Warnings: N/A. Mechanic Dean?

A/N: I just want to say thank you to everyone who has reached out to me with your love for this series! Ya'll are the best! If you haven't heard Love of my Life by Queen, then go listen to it. Such a beautiful song.

Series Masterlist

I was up before Sam which almost never happens, but I was determined to get coffee and muffins to take over to Y/N and ask her if she wanted to come with us to Montana. Walking up to her door, I kept reminding myself to take deep breaths and not act like an idiot. I knocked on the door and I heard a faint “Come in.” Slowly pushing the door open, I see Y/N folding her clothes to pack into her suitcase. She had her hair up in a ponytail, with jeans and a hoodie on and I couldn’t help but smile when she looked up at me.

“Hey Winchester.”

“Hey!” That sounded too eager, tone it down, Dean… I cleared my throat and continued. “Do you always leave your door open for people to just walk in? That’s not very safe.”

“I just forgot to lock it this morning after I got back from the ice machine. I figured it was you or Sam knocking, but I have this bad boy ready just in case.” She reached over the bed to her nightstand and held up a large knife.”

“That’s not going to do much good if someone were to barge in here with a gun.”

Y/N raised her eyebrow at me with a doubting look on her face which made my heart jump a little. “Most of the time, bringing a knife to a gun fight is a bad idea. But most people aren’t me.” She spun the knife in her hand and set it down on the bed next to her.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” I teased and held up a small brown bag with blueberry muffins inside. “I brought you some breakfast.” My gesture was interrupted by the bag being ripped from my hands and pinned to wall just behind me with a knife. It took a second to process what just happened. “Did… Did you just throw a knife at me?” Maybe I should be concerned, but more than anything I’m beyond impressed and a little turned on.

Y/N sent a devious smile my way as she walked over and pulled the knife from the wall, catching the bag before it fell to the ground. “You sounded like you were doubtful of my knife skills so I figured I’d prove it to you.” She stuck the knife in the back of her belt and opened the bag, pulling out a muffin. “Oh, blueberry! My favorite!” How this girl can go from terrifying one second to completely adorable in the next is beyond me, but I can’t get enough of it.

I sit on the bed and she joins me, pulling her feet up and sitting cross legged by my side. “So, you got any plans after this?” I ask as she pulls a muffin from the bag and hands it to me.

“No, I don’t think so. Find a case somewhere close by, I guess?”

“Well Sam and I found one in Montana if you want in. We can always use the backup.”

Y/N’s smile fades as she pops the last bite in her mouth.

“I would love to, but I don’t know if I can…”

My heart sinks. “How come?”

“My stupid piece of crap car can barely make it fifty miles without over-heating. The trip here really did a number on it and I don’t know that it would make it all the way to Montana.”

“Well, lucky for you, I know a great mechanic.” I wink at her and dust the crumbs off my lap. “I’m good with cars. I fix my baby up all the time and keep her running like new. Let me take a look at your piece of crap and see what I can do.”

“Wow, a personal compass and mechanic who brings me breakfast first thing in the morning. What am I supposed to do without you, Dean Winchester?” I knew Y/N was joking, but all I wanted was to tell her that she never had to be without me.

“I’ll tell Sam to get a head start and scope the case out. I’ll stay here with you and fix up your car and we can meet him there. Deal?”

“Dean, you don’t need to do that.”

“I want to.”

Y/N looked skeptically at me, so I reached over and grabbed her hand, squeezing it for reassurance.

“Thank you.” She said softly.

All I wanted to do was lean in and kiss her and it took everything in me to stop myself.

“I’m going to go update Sam. Be back in a sec.”

After giving Sam the low down, I met Y/N at her car. It was a simple jeep, nothing too complicated and I figured it would be an easy fix.

“You wanna pop the hood?” I instructed. She got in the car and pulled a lever. I pulled the hood up and began looking. It only took a few minutes to find a large crack in her water pump.

“Figured it out.” I said as I shut the hood. “Your water pump is busted. Let’s take her to that auto parts store a few blocks down and I’ll have her up and running in no time.”

“My knight in grungy plaid!” She joked as she walked to the passenger side door, which I opened for her before hopping in the driver’s side.

Y/N walked across the street to the gas station and bought some snacks and drinks while I quickly changed the pump, then we headed out on the road. Sam had only left a few hours before us and I sent him a quick text letting him know that we were on our way.

We were looking at a fifteen hour drive ahead of us, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited to get to know Y/N more.

“So, where’d you learn to throw knives like that?” I asked.

“Well, that’s kind of a long story.” She muttered as she shuffled through CDs, looking for one to pop in.

“We have time.” I was genuinely interested in knowing everything about her. I would sit in this stupid car for a whole week if it meant I got to be with Y/N.

I knew she could sense my sincerity and tried to repress a smile as she looked at the floor. “Well, you remember me telling you that my family died when I was little?” I nodded. “I kind of bounced around between hunters who raised me and taught me the ropes. I never really stayed with anyone for that long, though. Bobby kept me the most. I’m sure I was a burden on him, but he’s the only one who didn’t make me feel like I was, and I love him for that. But I always wanted to feel like I belonged with someone, you know? Like I just wanted to stick with one person and not have them dump me off with the next hunter who was free to look after me. I quickly learned that the more useful I was on hunts, the longer I’d stay with someone, so I decided that I’d learn how to throw knives. Bobby gave me this little guy,” she reached down and opened the glove compartment, pulling out a decent sized pocketknife, “and I practiced in every free minute I had. Eventually, I upgraded to bigger and better weapons, but this one holds a place in my heart.” She folded the knife back up and put it away. “Anyway, long story short, I got pretty good at throwing pointy things.” She chuckled.

“Did you ever get to stick with someone?”

She pursed her lips. “Not really, no. Once I was an asset on hunts, people would keep me around for longer, but never permanently. When I turned sixteen, Bobby set me up with one of his old cars and I went out on my own.”

I couldn’t fathom how anyone in their right mind wouldn’t want this amazing person around. “I’m sorry.” I shot her a sympathetic side smile.

“You don’t need to be.” I was surprised at her response. “People tell me all the time that I had a crappy childhood, but I didn’t know any different. I learned a long time ago that I can’t let myself feel deprived or angry about the past because that doesn’t help with anything. There’s enough bad that we deal with in our lives and I’m not going to make it worse by throwing a pity party for myself.” She cleared her throat and quickly shook her head, bringing a smile back on her face and changing her tone of voice instantly as she reached into the shopping bag full of treats. “Jerky or ding-dongs?” She asked.

“Jerky. I’ll leave the chocolate for you.” I remembered our conversation from the diner, how she told me she had a big sweet tooth.

“Good answer.” She beamed.

“So, your family,” I started between bites, “what were they like?”

“From what I remember, they were wonderful.” Y/N gave a sweet smile and reminisced as she gazed out the front window. “I was six when they died, so I don’t remember a lot, but I do remember my mom being patient and loving and my dad could make me laugh even on the worst days. I had 4 older brothers who were very protective. I looked up to them a lot. I’ve got some pictures at Bobby’s place. I’ll have to show you someday.”

“I’d love that.”

When Y/N showed me this side of her, it was hard to picture her as a hunter, even though I had seen firsthand how badass she could be. She seemed so vulnerable and kind, and I couldn’t understand how she could be so genuine after what she went through. I hated that she never had a true place of her own, and I wanted to tell her she had found one with me. It had only been a day and a half, but I couldn’t picture the future without this girl by my side. I wanted to tell her that, but how do I say something like that without coming off like an obsessed crazy man?

Y/N asked about my life, and I filled her in on everything. Our mom dying, our dad dying, me going to hell, and even things about myself that I wouldn’t tell Sam. I trusted her. Hours had passed and we had to stop for gas. It was getting late, and she volunteered to drive so I could shut my eyes. She had a blanket in the back seat that she gave to me and I wadded it up to use as a shield between me and the cold window.

Y/N played some music but turned it down low so she wouldn’t wake me. She must have thought I was already asleep and began to softly sing along to Love of My Life by Queen. I kept my eyes closed tight and listened to her, hanging onto every word.

You will remember

When this is blown over

And everything’s all by the way

When I grow older

I will be there at your side to remind you

How I still love you

As she sang those words, my head flooded with pictures of the two of us sitting on the porch of a small secluded house, watching our kids play in the front yard with a big old dog. I had never pictured a future like this for myself, but the minute I met Y/N, I felt a new door open for me. I had always thought that I would die young in a blaze of glory, but now all I wanted was to get out of the hunting life and live a simple one. Maybe not today or anytime soon, but someday. Was it crazy that I felt like this after knowing her for barely two days? Yes. Did I care? No.

My life had very few moments where I felt completely at peace and content, but this was one. One that I would remember every day, and the one that made me realize that I was one hundred percent head-over-heels in love with this girl.

Sam had already spoken with the police and the families of the victims by the time we got there. We quickly figured out who the wolf was and had him taken care of by the end of the day. We made a good team. I convinced Sam and Y/N that we should celebrate at the local bar, and the three of us were sitting at a table. Y/N volunteered to buy the next round and left her chair to go get it.

“So…” Sam started as I watched Y/N joking with the bartender. “You gonna tell her?”

“Tell her what?”

“That you like her, or whatever.”

“We’re not in high school, Sam.”

“Okay, fine. I just mean, I’ve never seen you like this before, and you need to make up your mind. We’re done with this case and she’s taking off in the morning if you don’t do something.”

I sighed and played with the label on my beer bottle. “I know…”

“I think we make a good team, the three of us.” Sam added. “Why don’t you, invite her to come hunt with us for a while?”

I looked at him skeptically. “You’d be okay with that?”

“Dean, she’s one of the best hunter’s I’ve ever seen, she actually helps with research, she’s fun, and you’re much more tolerable to be around when she’s with you.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll ask her tonight.”

YOUR POV

You, Sam and Dean had been having the time of your lives at that bar. You couldn’t remember the last time you had ever felt like you fit in with anyone like this. Sam was so easy to get along with. You teased him, he teased you, and you both teamed up to tease Dean. He felt like a brother to you. Dean, on the other hand, was so caring and interested in you like no one had ever been before. You had been fighting back strong feelings for him since you had first met him just two days prior; feelings so strong that they scared you. You had heard stories about him from Bobby and other hunters about how he would reel women in, use them, and leave them, so you left your guard up a little. But you had a hard time believing he was that kind of a person. For some reason, you trusted him like you had known him your whole life and it was rare that you trusted anyone at all.

Sam was telling a story about the food Dean used to try and cook for them at motels when they were kids and couldn’t get through a sentence without splitting his side from laughter, which, in turn, made you and Dean belly laugh as well. The ringtone of your phone broke through the cackles and you pulled it from your pocket. You excused yourself and stood up from the table, walking outside where you could hear better.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N, it’s Mitch”

“Wow, hey Mitch. It’s been a long time. Everything okay?” You had worked a few cases with Mitch in the past few years. He was a decent hunter. Young, like you, so you got along with him better than older hunters who looked down on you.

“I’ve got a case in Idaho that I can’t seem to figure out. You free?”

“You’re in luck. I just finished up something in Montana. Text me your address and I’ll be there tomorrow.”

“Thanks, I owe you one.”

You walk back in the bar, disappointed that you have to leave the fun. Dean smiles the second he sees you come back inside. You sat down next to him and he put his arm on the back of your chair.

“I thought you ran away, sweetheart.”

“I figured you could foot the bill.” You teased. “No, I actually got a call from a hunter in Idaho needing some help, so I think I’ve gotta call it a night and find a motel to crash at. I told him I’d be there tomorrow.”

Dean’s face dropped as you pulled out your wallet and set some money on the table. Sam gave Dean a knowing look which you caught. As you pulled on your jacket, Dean grabbed your arm softly.

“Wait, Y/N. Uhm, Sam and I were talking, and we’d love it if you’d let us stick with you for a while. If you’re okay with that, that is…”

You couldn’t fight the smile that crept up on your face. “You guys want to come with me?” Sam and Dean both nodded. “Well come on then. Let’s go get some sleep.”

The boys popped up, paid their part of the bill and Dean put his hand at the small of your back as you walked out, trailing Sam. Once you were outside, he moved his hand to grab yours, lacing his fingers between yours, which took you by surprise. “Is this okay?” He asked. Your heart was fluttering and your stomach doing flips. You nodded and smiled, squeezing his hand in response.

Chapter 8

Tags:

@panicking-outside-the-disco

@vicmc624

[walker-journal]

The Versipellis of the 7/11 (Adam + Kaden)

Characters: Kaden Langley (Hunter-Liz), Adam Walker (Hunter-Tapir)

Summary: Kaden and Adam go to a canabalistic crime scene and find themselves tracking down a familiar foe.

Content Warnings: Gun Use, Head Trauma 

Lycanthropy and all its permutations wasn’t Adam Walker’s specialty. However Versipellis curse was something he had personal experience with. Adam had to force those memories down as he examined the cashier’s body, the man unrecognizable after being mostly cannibalized. The bite marks on his body resembled those of a human mouth in some places, but the size and jaw structure distended as the curse had taken hold of the perpetrator, twisting them into something that’d eventually chomped this guy’s head in half like a pumpkin gourd.

Adam began the morbid task of rifling through the victim’s possessions, constructing guesses from clues and what he already knew. The Hunter’s gloved fingers flipped through bloodstained debit cards and receipts in what was left of the guy’s wallet. Crisp electronic clicks began as Adam rubbed enough dark gore off a smartphone to sift through photos of family and the most recent texts.

It seemed like a form of desecration to so casually paw through a person’s life before their corpse had even cooled. Adam wasn’t a naturally nosy dude and felt only a cold pit in his stomach as he scrutinized this window into the everyday complexity of someone else’s personhood. But they didn’t have time to spare, and Adam had been conditioned to suppress any squicky sentimentality that might interfere with the mission.

“Our victim is Michael P. Brewer, thirty six year old man, five feet and nine inches, one hundred and forty three pounds,” Adam rattled off with militaristic dispassion as he knelt over what was left of the body. “He was about to get off shift, but his replacement attacked while he was busy with the punch card. The bites began at the neck until the perpetrator’s increasing bulk forced Michael to the floor, where he was eaten alive. He is survived by his wife: Crow Brewer,” he finished.

“The likely perp is Tammy L. Killian, twenty nine year old woman, black hair, about five-six from this photo,” Adam held up a screenshot from Michael’s phone where the now intact man stood smiling next to his coworker at a union meeting. “She was texting Michael about wanting to come in for her shift despite suffering a bite from a wild animal that ate her dog last night.”

Adam looked up at the more experienced Hunter. “What’s the call Langley?”

When Kaden got the call from Walker about a body in the convenience store, he didn’t hesitate.  As much as hunting gave him pause recently, he wouldn’t leave the kid hanging. Even if he had to squash the voice in the back of his head telling him to call it in to the authorities. Didn’t last long. Not when he heard the basics of the situation. This was stained with supernatural shit, no doubt.

The first thing he did when they walked in, after placing the police tape to keep out any one else who might wander by, was head straight for the security cameras. Technology was far from his strong suit, but years of keeping the supernatural secret (and keeping himself out of prison) was enough for him to learn a few tricks here and there how to destroy evidence. Lucky for them, the whole setup was far from complicated. Kaden ripped the cameras out of the corners of the place and slammed them to the ground before giving them a good stomp with his boot for good measure. He reached behind the counter and gave the CCTV screen there and the box attached to it the same treatment.

By the time he was done, Walker was already halfway through rifling the victim's belongings. There were times Kaden regretted getting involved with law enforcement. Times like now, when he had that nagging feeling that he was going against his duty as WCPD. Examining the body before even considering reporting it. Still, his duty to the hunter’s codes went back far longer than any job and would endure long past that. Of course. Well, unless he-- That didn’t matter. The point was he was a hunter first. It was in his blood, he couldn’t walk away from his genetics even if he wanted to. He didn’t have to ask for details, Walker was good at delving them out as he went.

“Bite from a wild animal, huh?”  Kaden huffed out a laugh. They both knew damn well what that meant. “You said you thought this was a versipellis case,” he stated, leaning down to get a better look at the body. He’d seen injuries like this before. Unfortunately. “Gotta agree.”

He stood up, cracked his knuckles and glanced back over his shoulder. No sign of anyone approaching. Good. Kaden turned back and gave Walker his answer. “We find the monster. We kill the monster.” There was no gesture or further explanation. Kaden started walking, following the trail of destruction. “Looks like it burst out the back,” he added, heading through what was left of the back door. Maybe they had a shot of catching up with the beast before it found another victim. He didn’t want to call Michael P. Brewer lucky but death was preferable to being turned by a versipellis of all things.

“There was a Verispellis case earlier that turned a selkie feral,” supplied Adam as he followed Kaden out the back door. That was the danger of the Turnskin. A single bite could lead to a domino effect of secondary infections and people devoured alive. Kinna like a zombie but with some giant doggo skinbursting as a treat.

“However the infection ran its course in that selkie without the transformation taking hold and he’s been stable since,” continued Adam, making an effort to keep his voice professionally neutral, as if David Herring were simply just a witness to a case. The rational part of Adam knew that Kaden probably wouldn’t have a problem with his noodling partner, considering who Regan was. However, the reflex towards covering his ass so was automatic that Adam didn’t even realize how he was speaking until the words were out of his mouth.

Adam looked around the alley culdesac they’d walked into, Brick walls surrounded them on three sides laden with cardboard debris and dumpsters. The Hunter’s eyes scanned past the refuse to fix on long white claw marks that'd been gouged one far of the brick walls as if the back legs of something huge had clambered up side after a leap.

“There over that wall,” Adam noted, already in the process of performing a running vault that carried him onto a dumpster and then onto the wall.

“It bit a selkie?” Kaden’s brows furrowed as he glanced back at the other hunter. There were a lot of questions there. First off, how Walker knew a selkie, which one, why he didn’t take care of said selkie while feral, how he knew any of this, if this was connected to the case Rio mentioned. Before he could decide where to begin, Walker at least allayed some of his concerns. Only some of them. “You’re sure he’s not going to turn?” In the end, that was the only question that mattered, right? He wasn’t sure a selkie could turn, but he’d seen weirder shit. “Guess I’ll have to trust you, Walker,” he answered just as flatly as the other hunter had in turn. It was strange how easily it could all come flooding back every time, the harshness, the simplicity of it all. There was a right and there was a wrong and nothing else in between. And no time for emotions or questions like the ones clawing to the forefront of his mind just then.

Kaden followed what he could see of the trail of destruction into the alleyway with Walker. Sure looked right to him, onto the dumpster and over the wall it was. He gave a curt nod and was about to check the lid of said dumpster when Adam took off. “Putain,” he muttered to himself, huffing a sigh before pulling himself onto it and hopping up to the wall. Not about to run and vault if he could avoid it. He wasn’t as old as Oscar yet but he sure as hell wasn’t about to show off for no goddamn reason.

He surveyed the scene ahead of him, looking for any more signs or clues. The crushed trash cans strewn about the streets leading to a busted fence seemed like the right answer. Kaden waved the other hunter on and followed the destruction towards what looked like a construction site. A new building, an old building, hard to say in this town. Nothing lasted too long, not when there were monsters crawling out of every crack and crevice. Kaden held his breath and tried to listen deep. He didn’t hear much beyond the wind rattling the unsteady beams and scaffolds, but he could feel the pin pricks along his spine signifying that some sort of lycanthrope was nearby. Whether it was the one they were looking for, that was a different question entirely. “I think it might be cl--” A creak and a scraping of metal came from above. Kaden didn’t need to look up to know the growling was coming from the same direction. Shit. Guess they found it alright.

Adam ran over to a figure crumbled amongst the cinderblocks. He dusted off a man in his late twenties whose red hair was greyed the construction site’s powdery rubble. Adam checked for a pulse and began cardiac compressions and mouth to mouth resuscitation.

Adam’s humanitarian concerns had drawn him farther into the construction site than Kaden. Evening’s amber light was broken by the skeletal silhouette of scaffolding and rebar, casting bars of shadow across the younger Adam as he attended to merciful procedure without enough care for his own surroundings.

A gagging cough signaled that Adam had been successful, and the Hunter helped his charge into a sitting position on one of the larger cinder-blocks. “Its Aaron Osheen,” Adam explained. “One of Killian’s coworkers...aw shit.” It was then that Adam got a better look at his rescuee, including the deep well of blood on Aaron’s calf. “Hey uh Langley we got a bite here…” However this thought was cut off as metal screeching and growling descended from above.

Kaden’s eyes were scanning along the scaffolds for any signs of claws and fangs. He saw a flash of motion somewhere in the distance when Walker called out to him. His attention shot around to see the other hunter standing over a victim. “How bad does it loo-- a bite?” Before Kaden could utter a single French curse word let alone the slew of them he had planned, a monster leapt out from the metal tower towards them.

He raised the gun in his hand and let the shots fly towards the beast, bangs ringing out in empty site. One hit. Enough to slow it, not enough to stop it. Kaden shot again, out of rounds. It closed in and reloading wasn’t an option. He reached for his knife and threw himself to the side of the versipellis, slashing at its flank. It whipped around and he could feel its hot breath hanging in the air. Which meant the fangs were close enough to snap his arm in two. It swiped with its claws and Kaden rushed to its side again. Not fast enough to miss the talons sinking into his skin. But enough to give him the space to pull himself up the beams nearby. If he could get a vertical angle he’d have the advantage. He just needed Walker to hold his ground.  

Adam unslung his machete and did a pull-up on one of the hanging rebar poles. He performed a gymnast’s swing up onto what would eventually be this building’s second floor and faced the enormous wolf that was still covered in gore from tearing up a 7/11. As with many lycanthropes, ‘wolf’ was a crude generalization for the quadrupedal goliath of muscle and unnaturally proportioned limbs before him. It was far bigger than the largest kodiak bears and yet leapt from scaffolding and cinderblocks with a grace that was truly disconcerting in something that huge.

Adam moved to flank the thing trying to claw up Kaden, bringing his machete down in a two-handed slice down one of the versipellis’ back legs, mutant strength leveraging the blade straight through solid muscle. A howling whine of pain rewarded the raw aggression, and Adam succeeded in gaining the giant lycanthrope’s attention. He readied himself to be an elusive target while Kaden closed in for the kill from behind.

But pain lanced up his leg and Adam stumbled to one knee as something jerked his other leg off the scaffolding from below.

In a critical second of distraction, Adam glanced down into the bloodshot eyes of Aaron Osheen. The cashier has sunk his teeth into Adam’s leg, foaming spittle mixing with the Hunter’s blood. Aaron has clambered after Adam in a cursed frenzy, frantically trying to drag him down to the second floor to devour.

Kaden scrambled onto the ledge and reached for his second gun. His hand was around the handle, aimed, ready to let loose on the snarling beast below when he saw Walker dragged off to the side. Shit. The victim wasn’t a victim anymore. He turned his aim towards the other hunter and the cashier, thought about picking off a shot but it was too risky. There was no way to tell limb from limb. On top of that, the mass of fur, mange, and gore leapt up, clawing at the beams in front of him. Putain.

Kaden’s eyes darted and saw a platform across the way and sprinted. Hope this works. He threw himself across to the next patch of construction. He knew the monster could clear the space between them with ease but he’d made enough time to reload, fire a few more bullets into the lycan. The squeals and screams were a pretty good indication they hit, slow it, but it wasn’t down. And it was jumping to where Kaden was standing. He braced himself for impact as the claws came towards him. He knew he shouldn’t have closed his eyes, but some instincts were too hard to fight. He expected to feel sharp scratches of pain. Instead, gravity was giving way below them both. Fuck.

Adam watched Kaden and the wolf plummet down to the rubble of the first story in a tide wave of wood splitters and bent rebar. “Damn it.” He hadn’t been fast enough to grab Kaden out of the way, the civilian gnawing on his leg. Adam gritted his teeth and lifted both his leg and Aaron Osheen onto the second story with him. Fitting back rage at the feeling of his own flesh ripping in the cursed human’s teeth, Adam steadied his breathing. He needed to get Aaron off himself without pulverising the normie to death with too much force.

Adam let in one purposeful inhale, exhaled, and brought together both his hands on either side of Aaron’s temples, boxing his ears. Even holding back, the blow disoriented Aaron enough to release his jaw.

Adam hefted the concussed coughing guy off of him, tensed his abdomen, and flipped back up to his feet in one acrobatic movement. He looked down at where Kaden and the Versipellis had fallen, fastening his machete and drawing a silvered combat knife. Adam stood a running start before leaping down one store onto the Lycanthrope’s back from above, plunging the silver knife down into the beast.  

Kaden gasped for some of the air that was knocked from his lungs when his back slammed on the ground. Walker bought him a second to reach for his-- Fuck. Kaden went to wrap his fist around his gun to find nothing but wood chips in his hand. Weight pressed onto him and teeth flashed towards his flesh. He reached out and clambered for the first thing he could get his hands on. His fingers gripped the cold metal and he swung it at the beast’s head. Spit sprayed across the hunter’s face, but his jugular was still intact.

The wolf flinched, barely stunned, but Kaden pushed himself away, kicking his way out of the rubble. Gun was nowhere to be seen. He grabbed the small silver knife in his pocket. Not the best weapon, but it was the closest on hand. The monster had spun its attention to the hunter on its back, its claw reaching up to grab the younger hunter. No. Not today. Kaden thrust the small blade down through the monster’s foot, pinning it in place as it yowled in pain. Wouldn’t last. Was far from lethal. But he needed to buy time to bring out Last Chance.

Adam found himself in the precarious bucking bronco position of riding a Versipellis. He raised up the bloody silver knife to plunge it in again in search of a vital organ, but soon he was much more focused on trying not to be clawed off the lycanthrope’s back. Well aware that being dragged under the werewolf would likely end with his innards being raked out in seconds, Adam held on for dear life as he swung his leg narrowly out of the way of the annoyed wolf’s scratching claws.

Grabbing for any handhold as his world became a thrashing roller coaster, Adam’s every muscle was taut as he held onto to his grip and his lunch. Red-rimmed blackness closed in on the edge of his vision as an increasingly frantic swipe from the werewolf found purchase on his ribs. Adam had to shift his weight to the other side of the beast’s back to avoid being dragged down. Blood from his gouged side mingled with the puncture wounds he’d driven in the werewolf’s back, and Adam’s grip began to slip from the sheer amount of blood slickening everything.

Gritting his teeth Adam risked a one-armed hold around the werewolf’s massive neck to draw his silver knife again. He began to stab the blade into the Versipellis’ throat towards the jugular and…

Everything vanished in blackness and pain.

Adam’s ears rang with dull concussed clamor as he blearily opened his eyes. Blood ran down the back of his neck from where the Versipellis had ended the annoyance stabbing it from behind by intentionally ramming itself backwards into a cinderblock wall. Adam coughed and gagged up dark bile from internal wounds. He tried to summon the will to stand, and had gotten halfway to his feet and something slammed him down again.

Adam looked blearily up into the panting face of Aaron Osheen as the infected human opened his foaming mouth to bite down on the fallen hunter’s shoulder.

Kaden’s knife wasn’t in hand in time to stop the versipellis from throwing Walker across the crumbled construction like a ragdoll. His knuckles went white around the handle, his jaw clenched, and his heart pounding in his eardrums as he charged at the wolf. It made its move first, going straight for his shoulder. Kaden ducked to the right, the monster's momentum pulled him forward and it crashed into a support beam. Which might have been a good move. If a few dozen planks of wood didn’t come spilling down from above them. He covered his head, dove away but he got slapped around all the same.

The versipellis pivoted, pushed itself off the beam and pinned the hunter to ground. This time, Kaden was ready. Or he thought he was ready. He had his knife this time. But the monster sunk its claws into his shoulders, shoving him across the wooden beams, splinters digging into his back as he scraped across the lumber. Fangs found their way towards Kaden’s flesh. The hunter kicked and used every ounce of strength he had to brace against the beast with his arms.

Pain seared into his forearm as teeth pulled at his skin, tearing at it, shredding him. If he screamed or howled at the pain, Kaden didn’t know, couldn’t remember. All his focus, everything was on the knife. Bringing it down, digging it directly into its neck. Pushing it just a little farther and twisting it for good measure.

He felt the jaws around him loosen up and Kaden shoved the monster off of him. It was fading. Not fast enough. Kaden pushed himself up, was just about to lunge back at the wolf when he heard a different sort of growl from behind him.

His gaze shot to Aaron. And Adam. The versipellis was dying. He wasn’t about to let a hunter die, too. Kaden sprinted over to them, stumbling over the mess of beams and debris, and reached to grab Aaron by his collar and yank him back.

Adam staggered to his feet, covered in blood and dust. He leaned against a pillar of riveted steel for support as everything swam with dark spots and white flares. The younger Hunter looked from the dying wolf to the still frothing Aaron. “Thanks man,” he managed to gasp to Kaden. “We’ll need to get this dude in confinement till…”

Adam saw the Verspellis lunge forward, mad with lethal pain. The wounded lycanthrope rushed towards them, a frenzied juggernaut of bleeding muscle. “Kade! Heads up!”

The pain was starting to settle in and the adrenaline was waning. Kaden had the cashier by the collar and was more or less contained, Walker was still breathing, and the versipellis was--

Kaden turned to see the wolf tunneling towards him. Aaron was tossed aside with as much care as the hunter could manage. Sharp claws and fangs lunged at him. Kaden inhaled, braced for the pain, and threw himself at the monster. It tripped back. Kaden jammed his silver blade into the versipellis’ chest. Gravity took hold once again. This time it was the monster that gave way, falling back to the ground with a shrieking whine. The hunter pulled the blade down and out of the beast’s chest. All that was left was the twitching as the fight left its body and the light left its eyes.

Kaden wanted to collapse. Maybe catch his breath. Give the injuries a one over. But they weren’t done. Not yet. He pushed his blood covered body off the dead beast and turned his attention back to the cashier. “Got any ideas?” he asked as he reached to contain Aaron once more.

“I’ve got a bunker made from a buried cargo container,” noted Adam as he leaned against the steel pillar. It wasn’t exactly the most glorious hideout, but it sufficed for having a discreet place to store things. “There’s plenty of MREs and water in there. Aaron can be locked in there till the curse wears off?”

Adam staggered over to the downed wolf. Death didn’t do much to make the giant predator less intimidating, or easier to get the hell out of here. Everything hurt, but that wasn’t any excuse to just leave paranormal evidence out in the open.  “I can bring the truck around and we can load it under a tarp?” “Hey Langley,” Adam turned his bruise-covered face to Kaden. “Thank you, like seriously, you saved my ass back there.”

Kaden’s brows furrowed. “You’ve got a what?” Aaron tried to pull away and break from his grasp. Kaden focused back on the cashier and considered knocking him out. Might make things easier. Shit, was it ethical? Aaron lunged again and that settled it. Kaden struck at the cashier’s neck at a pressure point, catching the body as he fell unconscious and setting him down. If nothing else, gave them time to tie him up to get him to that bunker.

“Sounds good.” Kaden sighed looking over at the dead versipellis. It was a lot easier when this happened in the woods. Leaving monsters there was never an issue. Concern creased into his forehead as he looked back at Walker. “You think you can make it?” Kaden asked. He was pretty badly hurt. Sure, nothing new for the likes of them but it wasn’t pretty regardless.

“Don’t mention it, Walker,” Kaden replied, offering as much of a smile as he could manage, finally feeling the weariness wash over him. “You saved mine a few times there, too. And I wasn’t about to let you die out there.”

Adam grinned, a sunbeam amidst bruises and blood. “I’ll make it Kade. Here, help me get this mega-furry in the truck.”

[mappinglasirena]

Sickbay Deep Dive Pt. 1

Today, I want to take a closer look at the sickbay/medlab on La Sirena. It’s one of the few closed rooms that we can locate with absolute certainty and while it might not seem like much at first glance, there is actually a ton going on in the small(?) room. So, come with me, as I take you through the big door into the EMH’s realm.

Since this is my first deep dive into a concrete location (not just a door and some floor plates :D), I have come up with a structure to help make this less of a wall of text (and pictures). It shall be as follows:

1) The Size and Structure of the Room 2) Furniture 3) Bric-a-brac (Or whatever else you might call the decorations and general stuff lying around a room - who allowed the non-native speaker with a tenuous grasp on interior/spaceship design vocab to run this blog? =D) 4) Interesting observations, continuity errors, headcanons, miscellaneous

1) The Size and Structure of Sickbay

First, a few general observations: Sickbay is located on Sirena’s lower deck, pretty much at the centre of the ship, and its large door opens forward into the mess hall. The room consists of the large circular work area and a smaller rectangular (possibly square) alcove at the back of the room, across from the door, that usually houses the biobed. The walls of the round room are slightly slanted, getting wider towards the top, though the alcove has straight walls. The omnipresent diagonal support beams can be found here as well: there are three spaced throughout the room, one in the very centre and one each near the front and back of the round room. Next to the large door, there are also two small windows that allow a view of the forward lower deck (i.e. the mess hall and surrounding storage), and a workbench runs around the entirety of the two curved walls from door to alcove.

Unfortunately, when it comes to questions of the room’s size, things get pretty complicated. I’ve spent a good deal of time over the past couple of weeks, trying to puzzle out the size of sickbay. I have (mostly) failed. My observations on the ships general layout and size are very slowly starting to become more concrete, but I’m still at a bit of a loss with various key aspects, so bear with me if my current estimates end up not being precisely to scale.

First off, the support beams give us some idea of the size of the room. To the best of my measuring abilities, there’s always 2m between the beams and we can see three of the horizontal beams at the ceiling. As far as I have been able to tell, the beams themselves are about 30cm wide , which leaves us with a minimal diameter of 5m for the circular ceiling.

After playing around in SketchUp for a while and doing a whole lot of maths, my best current estimate is that at the ceiling, the diameter of sickbay is somewhere between 6.5m and 8m. The diameter of the floor is always roughly 1m less (since the ceiling height and angle of the outer wall stay constant)

This is with 8m at the ceiling and looking at the lines for the non-centred support beams and the floor markings it just looks a bit too big.

This assumes 6.5m on the ceiling but it’s definitely a liiiittle to small. (I have no idea if these graphics make any sense if you haven’t spent the last two weeks staring at sickbay images and you have the general floor plate-layout burnt into your brain, but I want to share my process a bit, so you know I’m not just pulling all of this out of thin air ;9 )

Another approach is to look at something like this shot…

…where you can take Rios, imagine him lying on the floor head to toe, and you can see how he would fit in the room between three and four times.

Santiago Cabrera’s height, according to the interwebs, is 1,83m, which would make the room about 6,60m wide at floor level, which would, in turn, give us a 7,60m ceiling.

But as you can see by looking at the ceiling beams in the above picture, here we run into a different problem. I have looked at these scenes and shots long enough to tell you with some degree of confidence that the horizontal ceiling beams are, in fact, entirely straight and do not curve downward towards the sides. So, as far as i can tell, what's happening here must be some form of distortion caused by whatever lens the cinematographers are using for the wide shots. As you can probably imagine, this makes my job a lot harder, especially since I don’t know enough about optics to tell you how exactly these kinds of lens-artifacts would affect my typical style of very rudimentary measuring/calculations.

So, it’s all still a bit of a mystery, but I’ll keep working away at this, and we’ll see how it goes (I will certainly keep you updated and try not to just make it incoherent rants about warped shots XD).

The little alcove with the biobed should probably be a bit easier to measure, but there are still a bunch of issues, so at the moment by best estimate is that it’s between 3 and 4m wide and probably just as deep.

All in all, I guess it’s fair to say that sickbay is a lot larger than one might initially suspect (or assume to be reasonable).

Some more Quick Observations on the Structural Features of the Room

There are skylights in the ceiling that have shutters that blend in with the floor plating on the upper deck but that are regularly open as well.

These skylights have some built-in illumination and can function as lamps when the shutters are closed as can be seen here:

There are six more circular lamps spaced across the ceiling of the round part of the room which can also project holographic screens, though it’s not entirely clear what their individual functions are.

The rest of the illumination comes from a bank of lights running around the outside of the room’s ceiling. (If there’s one thing La Sirena is in no short supply of, it’s light sources =D)

The alcove has its own set of four round overhead lamps, as well as four pole-like lamps fixed to the side and back walls.

The floor has a nice pattern on it that looks a little like this.

(left: a sketch of the floor pattern in sickbay; right: a cross-section of the central support beam. Neither of these two are remotely proportionate, this is just to give you a rough orientation.)

And I think that’s enough info and especially images for now, my tumblr draft is starting to sulk ;]

Join me next time, when we are taking a closer look at the many things that fill sickbay! (Spoilers: someone has been to a well-known interstellar furniture store of Terran origin…..)

[heathert456]

Response to videos.

(*Text underneath for readability)

‘How To Create A Great Character’ video by The Closer Look on YouTube

I liked this video because it discussed three main components that characters could have to different extents, likability, activity, and competency. The video described some existing characters who have these traits at different levels and how those levels change how they are as a character and how the audience will perceive them. I like this concept, because it is a simple way of approaching characters that can help to give them strengths/weaknesses and make them more developed.

The video mentioned how characters need to have these components at different levels, because a character who is perfect, like ‘Superman’ does not have as much depth, a character who has none of these components would have even less depth. Some rules that were provided were that, they need to be good in at least one category, and they cannot be good at all of them. Some rules that were provided were that, they need to be good in at least one category, and they cannot be good at all of them. 

Pixar- ‘What Makes Characters Relatable?’ video by Kaptainkristian on YouTube

I found this video interesting and insightful because it gave information of how to create good storytelling through the use of relatable characters with goals, backstories, challenges, etc. It mentioned how Pixar films do this very well, as oppose to Disney, who base a lot of their films from fairy tales. Disney films usually involve romance as the main plot driver. However Pixar gives their characters other goals, influenced by their unique character and backstory. Pixar asks, ‘why do we need to tell this story?’ and teaches good life lessons that are relatable for all age groups, they include something for everyone.

The video also talked about how Disney villains are bland, they have little information on their contexts, what is their motivation for being evil? A lot of the time there is no backstory for them, they are simply evil. This is something that Pixar does differently, they give context and backstory for why a character is the way they are, for example, ‘Syndrome’ from the Incredibles movie, has a past where he was often disregarded, the constant rejection lead him to become a villain, this is something that is included in the storyline. However, Disney villain ‘Jafar’ from Aladdin only has motivation to be evil because he wants to be the most powerful in the land. You can see from watching the film, that he is always portrayed as the second most powerful and is treated as such, but apart from that there is no evidence as to his motivation.

‘Good V.S. Bad Character Design: Tips and Tricks!’ video by BaM Animation on YouTube

I really liked this video, it was very helpful, similar to the first video, it had a list of components that can help to create a good character design, silhouette, palette, and exaggeration. It mentioned the differences that a good and bad characters can have at a visual level, which I found interesting, how shapes can influence how a character is perceived. Squares could help to portray solid characters, circles for friendly ones, or triangles for fast and/or evil characters. It also talked about how colour theory can also influence a character.

Another thing that the video talked about was ‘shape language’, different shapes express different traits and aspects of characters. You can see this by looking at pre-existing characters and how their shapes communicate their personalities. For example, circles show no threat, they seem very approachable and friendly, whereas a triangle seems sharp and dangerous. Shape language can visually tell the audience what kind of character your character designs are.

They had some examples of fan art that they developed using techniques and processes shown in the video. One character had a mixture of different shapes, which could confuse the viewer to understand that character’s personality. They changed the shapes to triangular ones to convey a femme-fatale villain character. They compared shape motifs on a line-up of three characters. The shapes were at first jumbled up, but when they were rearranged to have only one shape, the characters were consistent, and their personalities were a lot clearer. Colour hierarchy was also mentioned in the video. How a main colour can be complemented by lesser colours and how the amount of a colour can convey character traits. 

They worked on improving this design by first analysing what was wrong with it. A main thing was that it was too complicated, had too many colours, and some of those colours had the same values. They fixed the character by re-designing it in a simpler way and choosing less colours, that complemented each other and had had different value weights. 

Another thing that was mentioned was that colours can help to show where a character is from, e.g. above the equator, colours are less vibrant on the bottom, colours are more vibrant. Something which I found intriguing was how some characters can be inspired by real life people. I already knew this, but I hadn’t previously thought about it as a possibility for a reference or a way to begin a design. And it is clear how these characters have been influenced by real-life. How a character acts or moves could also be inspired by real-life people. The video mentioned how artists/designers often look at the world and then apply real-world aspects into work. 

Something else that was stated was that a character’s pose can influence how they are looked at as well. For instance, open, thoughtful, lazy, etc. We can perceive how a person or character is feeling or what they are doing, just by their basic figure. I found this interesting, because it shows how important pose can be. 

This is another character design that they improved on. They talked about how you can block out a character’s shapes to help make it more dynamic, the design on the right was the original, but by simply changing the shapes, the design improved dramatically. I really like this technique; it is something that I would like to try out. The artist who sent the designs created them with guidelines to help with the proportions, this was a good approach, and is something I would also like to try.

They demonstrated how drawing characters with guidelines can be useful, how it can help keep the proportions consistent and how it can improve the designs overall. They talked about trios and how designing line ups of characters in three can help to give visual variation and complement each design. They suggested starting out with one square, one triangle and one circle and designing characters from that. They also suggested that colour could be used to further express the character’s personality. I like this technique, I think it could be a good exercise for me to further learn about how shapes influence character designs, create variation in my work, and experiment. At first, they did this in a basic way, then they exaggerated some elements to further express the characters and add variation to the designs. To push the concepts even further they created more dynamic poses and added expressions. I think it is really cool how their personalities come across, even though they are basic shapes.

They talked about how line-ups of characters can be dynamic. They gave two examples and described one as a fun roller coaster, and the other as a dull train track. They redesigned all of the characters that the artist sent in and displayed them in a roller coaster way. They explained how even though the characters are all different sizes, proportionality they are the same because of the use of guidelines. They showed comparisons of the before and after of the character designs. The original designs are okay, but the re-designs show major improvement. They exaggerated some of the features to express different features of the characters and gave them dynamic poses. the character’s personalities come across so differently in the re-designs and the messages behind them are clearer. They also each look unique, in the original designs, they looked kind of the same as each other and there wasn’t very much variation in pose. 

‘A Guide to Good Character Design (Mega Super Ultimate)’ video by The Joopis on YouTube

This video had some very interesting points that I found helpful. The main point that came across was how important silhouette is. They mentioned how a character can be recognisable from only their silhouette and how this can help to identify characters. They also broke down popular character designs into shapes to show how characters can be made out of basic shapes. Another way they demonstrated how silhouette is important was by creating three head silhouettes and choosing their favourite, from there, they created three different character heads from the same silhouette. This was to show how big of an impact silhouette can have. 

They talked about villain design as well, how across Disney characters, the villains tend to have similar colours, usually dark, and including black, reds and purples. This was to show how colour is important in identifying characters and what kind of character they are. They showed how they do this by showing a design they had done and a reference they used. They looked at the colours on a snake to inspire the colour they chose for their villain; these colours together are threatening and suggest danger. They showed how colour palettes could be extracted from things in real-life. For example; the muted pink colours from the kitten are soft and gentle, the colours from the birds are bright and vibrant.

They also briefly mentioned how clothing can add to a character’s backstory, context and further express their character. they talked about how the shapes of the clothing can also have an impact.

[mcatra]

Oh my god they were lab partners pt. 2/2

part one

A03 LINK

Highschool AU fic of Hordak and Entrapta becoming lab partners. Hordak may have accidentally fallen in love with her somewhere along the way. 

Hordak's never liked anyone before in his entire life. Not even as friends. So whatever this was? Completely out of his depth. 

There was no stopping it- these feelings. It was insane how much her name plagued his thoughts in random places at all times of the day. These symptoms formed in unexpected ways, like how he had thought he was having a heart attack, when really all that happened was that Entrapta smiled at him. Or how his face would heat up and his hands would involuntarily go clammy when she would drag him by the hand to go somewhere. 

Hordak had even learnt how to braid. He had gotten pretty good at it too, if the complicated french braids and buns Entrapta was sporting before lab now was of any indication.

It didn't matter though, since she obviously didn't feel the same. She's had dozens of friends before, and he was just one of them. But Entrapta was his first friend- but he's already screwed that up. It's taken him this long to find someone that he can actually tolerate the presence of, and it seemed fate was determined to take that away as well. 

So he crushes the feelings deep inside, though they threaten to spill out every few minutes when he's with her. He's fine with being friends, really. 

The school holidays was starting, which would give him plenty of time to get over his feelings. 

This plan is immediately compromised when Entrapta insists on texting him several times a day. 

Entrapta:

yakult is the perfect size of drink but it's not fizzy!! (〒﹏〒)

Hordak: 

Perhaps you should try packaging your drinks in smaller sized Yakult bottles. 

Entrapta: 

:00 yea ur right!! I'll ask my butler to do that be righttt baackkk 

Hordak: 

A butler? 

Entrapta: 

yep my parents r always busy working!! Soda pop makes the best lunches ヾ(´ ▽ ` ) 

[image.attachment] 

It's a photo of what seems to be her lunch, bite sized cookies, scones, and of course pink fizzy lemonade in a tiny bottle. 

Looking at it, he thinks it's only customary to send a photo of his own lunch.  

Hordak: [image.attachment] 

Entrapta: ???????‽‽ Σ(°△°|||)︴ 

Entrapta: NOO9OOOOOO what is THAT ??!!!  

He's confused by her response. It was all that Prime stacked their food cupboards with, he didn't see anything wrong about his grey ration bars. It wasn't even the brown kind today. 

Hordak: That is my lunch. 

Entrapta: (ಥ﹏ಥ) I'm so sorry hordak… 

pleaseeee let me come over and deliver U some of my food!!! 

He wishes she would, but he can't afford letting Prime see her. There's a reason why he's dodged every request from her to come over. 

Hordak: Thank you for your consideration, but that won't be necessary. It gives me enough nutrition for the day. 

Entrapta: FINEE but when we get back I'm giving you all the food U can eat!!! I'll even make them big!! Just for you!! 

Hordak: I look forward to it. 

Entrapta: (≧▽≦) ♥️  

Did...Did she just send a heart? What did that mean?

He stares at the screen in disbelief. Every time he thinks he's doing well she sends his mind into overdrive. 

Scratch that, what was he supposed to send back? 

He falters on a response, anxiously trying to decide one before she got suspicious and asked him why he was taking so long. A solid 5 minutes later, he finally settles on one. 

Hordak:  :]

---

...

[Incoming video call from Entrapta]

He bolts upright in bed, hair in disarray. 

The clock reads 1am. What was she doing calling at this hour? He scrambles to lower the volume, unlocking it in the process, and when he does Entrapta's face fills the screen. 

She's in her pajamas, her hair tied up haphazardly into a messy bun on the top of her head. It seemed like she had attempted to recreate the neatly tucked bun that Hordak always did for her, but couldn't quite figure it out. 

'Hordak! I've just made the most fascinating discovery- oh sorry, were you sleeping?' 

'Ah, no. I wasn't.' He fibs, not wanting her to hang up. He didn't want to admit it, but he missed seeing her face. 'Do go on.' 

She digs through a stack of letters, and brings it up triumphantly to the screen. 

'I've found some scholarship offers buried in my junk mail!' She chirps through the pixelated video feed.

'Got one from California Institute of Technology, Harvard and MIT! They loved my research papers and scientific breakthroughs!' 

He blinks in shock. That was huge. 

'Congratulations!' He bursts out- those are incredible opportunities. ‘Which one will you be attending?' 

'Oh, that's why I called! I needed help deciding. So I was wondering…' She looked oddly nervous, tapping two fingers together. 'Which university would you be going to?' 

Hordak hadn't even applied to any university, let alone receiving offers from Ivy League schools. It had been decided since he was a kid that he would be working for Prime's company right after graduation. He hadn't considered any other alternative before. 

'I…have not applied to any yet.' 

'What?!’ She cries out, appalled. ‘You should definitely apply! You have more knowledge of cosmic forms than I do, Hordak. Plus your grades have improved exponentially this year- I even made a graph!' 

Before he can ask why on earth she had made a graph of his grades she brings out a spreadsheet of his progress. 

'According to the numbers you can definitely apply to any of the surrounding schools in the area! Oh but how fun would it be if we could go to the same university?!' 

'I can't possibly afford the tuition-' 

'Bank loans, and you can work part time! You could even apply for financial assistance. Please come.' 

Hordak hesitates, looking at the door behind him. Imp was stirring in the room next door. He lowers his voice. 

'I.. I...'

He starts and aborts a few sentences. He clenches his scarred arm unconsciously. Of course he wants to. But he had responsibilities that weighed heavily on his shoulders, and circumstances that a carefree sheltered girl couldn't even comprehend. No amount of optimism or daydreaming could fix his grim reality. 

 'I can't.' Is all he manages to say.

She looks slightly taken aback, and he can see her trying not to look disappointed.  

'..That's okay. I understand.'

A horrible sense of guilt spreads in his stomach. Entrapta changes the topic and they don't bring up the subject again.

---

Entrapta has always had trouble making friends. People usually ignored her when she talked about her interests, or were telling her what she did wrong. Usually it was a missed social cue, or she had used words that were too technical for them to understand. 

Hordak was different though. He always listened, understood her technical jargon and offered his own knowledge that sometimes even outweighed her own. She had been curious about this elusive person that everyone was afraid of since she had met him behind the bathroom block. He didn’t seem like the vicious animal that the rumours made him out to be. So on a whim, she had volunteered to be his lab partner.

At first she was just ecstatic to find someone who liked the same things she did, but soon it was more than just the shared love for science. Entrapta had thought for years that the only way she could make friends was allowing them to copy and take her work, but Hordak had showed her otherwise. A shared solidarity for two outcasts. 

Even though he showed a tough angry exterior to everyone, with her Hordak was surprisingly kind. 

He always did little things for her without prompting. Once she had forgotten to bring her jacket when it was cold and he had wordlessly handed his over for her to wear. Or how he noticed when she hadn't slept that night and bought her an iced coffee from the vending machine. He had even poured it into the lid in an effort to make it the way she liked it. 

She began to notice things about him as well, like how he got embarrassed easily, or how despite his old demeanor he could be surprisingly childish. His reactions became even more fascinating than her experiments. Entrapta catalogued them in her mind, keeping track of the emotions he would show. He was always so stoic, the primary emotion being anger or quiet indifference. A few smiles here and there, scattered in between. 

However when Hordak laughed for the first time ever, she was caught completely off guard. 

When his eyes crinkled into little slits, and his laughter exposed his canines, her brain was shaken only leaving one thought. 

Beautiful.

Entrapta had found something more valuable than any discovery she's made in her career as a self made scientist.  She wanted to discover more about him, however he never talked about himself, which both enthralled and frustrated her to no end. But graduation was coming soon, and the last thing she wanted was for Hordak to not talk to her anymore like Adora and the others.

She had tried to put off the deadline, ignoring the growing stack of offer letters that could whisk her away to anywhere in the world.

Come with me. 

I can't. 

 Why? Had she misread them this whole time? Did he not want to be with her too? But she was wrong with Adora and her friends, and Catra. 

Someone told her once how people cannot be quantified, calculated, predicted. Feelings can be there one day and gone the next. She is no stranger to failure. But it doesn't mean she isn't afraid. 

-----

School resumes again for their final term, and Hordak is inwardly thrilled to see his friend in person again. Entrapta waves at him from the school gate, before diving headfirst into all the things that happened over the holidays she couldn’t show over text. 

They agree to be lab partners again without hesitation, and fall back into their comfortable friendship. 

Soon it’s prom season, and the halls are decorated in banners, posters and flyers. People are pairing off left and right, chattering away about how to ask their dates out. 

Hordak never attends these sort of events, he always blatantly refuses to go. However during one of their study sessions in the library, Entrapta tries to convince him to come with her. 

‘It’s meaningless to go to such an event. Mingling or dancing is not a productive venture.' 

'But it could be fun! I’ve been wanting to conduct a social experiment and it’s the perfect place for it.' She protests. 'Also Prom is imperative to the high school experience.' 

He waves her away, unconvinced. It's not like he could afford the tickets anyway, and Prime would never let him go. 

'I refuse to squander my time on something so pointless. There will be no further discussion on this.' 

She pouts, turning back to her notebook. The sulky charade lasts for a record 10 minutes before she caves and starts running her mouth again. 

He's still adamantly against it, but that sentiment gets stopped in its tracks when he catches someone approaching Entrapta.

'Hey, Entrapta was it?' The tall blonde says languidly. ‘Can I speak to you for a moment, over there?’ 

'Oh, sure!' She says, getting up from her chair. 'Can I get you something?' 

'Certainly!' 

Hordak listens to the conversation happening behind the bookshelf. He doesn't like the look of them, all greasy smiles and cocky demeanor.  

'A date to the prom, please.' They smirk, their tall stature allowing them to lean over her. 

Hordaks jaw drops, and the feeling of jealousy flares in the pit of his stomach. He fights the urge to throw that cocky bastard across the room. But the knowledge that he has no right to be angry when he had already turned down her offer kept him rooted to the spot. 

Thankfully Entrapta doesn’t seem to get it. 

'Oh I'm not organising that.’ She says, tapping her chin. ‘I think Frosta and her prom committee are. Or you could ask our school captain Adora and her prefects, they’ll know who to talk to get tickets.'  

They look dumbfounded, but hastily amend their wording. 

'No, I meant- will you be my date. To the prom.' 

'Me?' 

At this point there are marks on the wooden bookshelf from Hordak’s nails. The other person looked almost cocky in their confidence, smirking while waiting for a response. 

Of course she’d accept, they were just friends after all, and she didn’t owe him anything. However Entrapta cuts through his spiralling thoughts.

‘Thank you. But I won’t be going.’ 

Hordak looks up in surprise, shocked at her response. So do they, as Entrapta swiftly passes them and lights up when she spots him behind the shelf. ‘Hordak, there you are!’ She chirps brightly. ‘Come on, I wanted to show you progress photos of my new upgrades with Emily.’ 

He feels awful as she leads them back to their desks, it seems like he was letting down Entrapta a lot these days. First with the university, and now this. However Hordak is determined to make it up to her, racking his brain for ideas until he remembers the bandaids she had given him years ago.

Cupcakes. Despite not having much he managed to scrounge enough coins to buy ingredients. 

Half of them end up charred to a crisp but he manages to salvage a few through enough scraping. With the help of Imp, he manages to frost and decorate them purple and blue to cover up the scorch marks. 

Hordak thrusts the cupcakes in her face before class, before realising that he hadn't prepared anything to say.

'I, uh, wanted to..here.' He stammers, dropping them into her palm. 'I made them. For you.'

She looks at the cupcakes, stunned. To his complete and utter horror, Entrapta's eyes start to water.

Oh no. Did he mess up? His mind goes into overdrive in panic, and he looks around frantically for a way to calm her down.

'Were they unsatisfactory? I will try again. Please allow me to dispose of those-' He reaches out to take them back but she pulls it away.

'I love them.’ 

She wipes her eyes with her sleeve, and she's beaming a crooked smile. 

He hesitates, unsure what to make of her reaction. 

‘E-Entrapta..I, um…’ He begins, remembering the person in the library. He fishes around in his pocket and pulls out two tickets. ‘Do you want to.. Go to the prom. With me. So you can study people, like you said.’

Entrapta gasps, a long and drawn out one that gets higher in pitch.

‘THANK YOU HORDAK!!’ She squeals, and she practically launches herself into his chest, nearly toppling them over. ‘Of COURSE I will!’ 

He smiles at this, glad that he had been the one to put that grin on her face. Anything was worth making her happy. 

-------

It’s a bad night again. He wants nothing more than to stay in bed but he forces himself to get up, if nothing else to get away from Prime. His older brother had found out about the money he had taken to buy the prom tickets and make the cupcakes. This resulted in having the life beaten out of him while Imp watched, cowering behind the door. He gets his phone taken from him, a clear warning not to talk to Entrapta again. 

It’s summer, but Hordak opts for a black turtleneck sweater under his uniform and a baggy jacket. He however can’t disguise the bruises on his face, as usually Prime would avoid making markings that would arouse suspicion.

He can hear his classmates whisper amongst themselves, saying that he’s gotten into a fight and beat the rival gangs in the area. Hordak growls at them menacingly, and they scatter. He watches them go, and for the first time in a long time goes to skip class.

It’s nice out, a cool breeze on the rooftop soothes his skin. He gingerly takes his uniform off, wincing as he peels off the slightly blood stained sleeve.

He should be used to it by now. But it doesn’t get any better.

‘You didn’t reply to my texts.’

Hordak nearly jumped out of his skin, whipping around to see Entrapta. She has a delicate frown on her face, and looks at him up and down.

'You shouldn’t be here.’ He says, turning away. 

She doesn't look convinced, and starts to walk towards him. ‘Hordak-’ 

‘I said, GET OUT!’ He shouts, furiously wrapping his uniform back around his shoulders. ‘The prom’s off. Leave.’ 

Entrapta disregards his outburst, striding forward to confront him. 'I can’t keep ignoring this, Hordak.’ She catches his wrist easily, looking at his wounds. 

'You come to school with these new burns, these bruises, and you never TELL me anything.’ She says, pained. 'People say you got them in fights, but I know you. What really happened?’

He stares at her, but she looks determined. Ever the scientist, always looking for answers to things she didn’t understand. 

'You really want to know?’ He growls, tearing his arm from her grip. ‘I am an orphan. My brother Prime got full custody since he’s the only one old enough to earn money to support us. I can’t leave, no matter how much he beats me. My younger brother, Imp. He’s only a toddler- if I go, what happens to him? I couldn’t possibly support the both of us.’ 

She looks shocked, but doesn’t say anything. 

‘He’s ordered me not to talk to you. So that’s what I’m going to do. Don’t make it any harder for me.’ He tries to sound angry, but it comes off more like pleading. 

‘No.’ She says simply. 

He looks at her, incredulous. ‘Did you not hear what I just said-’

‘No, I heard you.’ She replies, bringing out bandages from her backpack like the first time they had met. 

‘I’ve got an idea. I’m breaking you out of there.’ 

‘You’re what?’ 

----

Lab Partner: Are you ready??

Hordak: This is such a bad idea.

He’s had no idea how he ended up in this situation. As per instruction via Entrapta’s burner phone, he had packed a getaway bag with their documents for him and Imp, and was waiting for several of her tiny bots surveillancing the area to give the all clear. 

Entrapta had temporarily disabled the security cams in the entire neighbourhood, and was currently waiting in the getaway car. 

Hordak:  I can’t believe I’m turning on my brother. 

Lab Partner: Its okay, we can work on that crisis later!! 

Lab Partner: I've also got your disguise in the car :))) 💃💃

Prime was still out at work, and it should be a few more hours until he came back. Hordak leads Imp by the hand down the driveway and fastens him into the booster seat of the getaway car. 

'He is so cuute!' Entrapta coos, poking his baby brother’s cheek. ‘I’m Entrapta. We’re gonna make sure you’re safe, okay?’ 

Imp nods, somewhat confused. ‘Entrapta.’ He repeats, and she grins. 

They peel out of the driveway, and although Entrapta is a terrifying driver they make it safely to her house outside the city. 

When they arrive, he is rendered speechless. Was this a castle? A mansion? The guards out front nod at Entrapta and the security gates open, letting them through. 

At least he knows Prime couldn’t possibly follow him here, thanks to Entrapta’s parents security team. 

Imp has taken to the place, admiring the many robots she had engineered. Her butler offers him some tiny beverages as he waits for Entrapta to finish whatever she was doing upstairs.  

After a while she comes down the stairs and he can practically feel himself stop breathing. She’s gorgeous, dressed in a purple velvet suit, tied together with a vest and a bow tie. Her coattails swish as she walks towards Hordak, who had been stunned into silence. 

‘I...ah..’ He stutters. ‘What is this for?’ 

Imp kicks him in the shin.

‘Uh. Y-you look... exemplary. A magnificent choice of attire.’ 

‘It’s prom today! Did you forget?’ She grins, whisking him from his seat and plonking him in front of the mirror. ‘We bought the tickets, we may as well go!’

‘But Imp-’

 ‘-Will be safe. There’s no way he’ll find him here. We’ll be in and out, and be back before he’s even left work.’ 

Entrapta takes out a makeup brush and some black lipstick, and starts applying it onto his face. For some reason he lets her work, he’s never really been able to say no to her. She styles his hair so some falls across his face. ‘Now for the good part!’ She declares, and brings out a long black dress combined with an inner red cape, with slits on the sides. They’re accompanied by tall black heels and a black clutch. 

‘I-I don’t know.’ He says. He’s never worn anything that bold or attention grabbing before, usually choosing clothes that would hide his scarring. 

‘Just try it on!’ 

------

They arrive at the prom arm in arm, and people audibly gasp as they walk down the stairs into the hall. The crowd clears from their path as they make their way down the venue, their stares turning into ones of admiration. 

The person from the library shoots them an affronted look, much to Hordak’s satisfaction. Perhaps this wasn’t so bad after all.  

Entrapta starts grabbing random food off the tables for Hordak to try. As he eats she starts recording Hordak’s different reactions to each new food into her little recorder. 

‘It’s absolutely fascinating how social groups function in peculiar ways! For example,’ She commentates, pointing at her old group of friends. ‘Catra asked Scorpia out to make Adora jealous.’ 

He watches the brunette antagonize her ex friend, and Adora seemed to be taking the bait. Scorpia watches on, looking disgruntled. 

‘Seems like it is working.’ 

‘No mind, Glimmer’s only Adora’s date to make Bow jealous. But according to my observations, that seems to be less successful.’ 

He nods, seemed like there was a lot going on in Etheria he had never cared to notice before. 

Soon they are interrupted by loud commanding voice on the microphone. It’s Frosta, and she’s announcing the first dance. She looks impossibly small up there behind the podium, which happens when you skip a few grades. 

‘Let’s go dance!’

‘I don’t know how to-’

Entrapta drags Hordak onto the dance floor before he can object, joining the other couples paired around them. She puts a hand around his waist, and clasps the other in his. 

'Also, Hordak! I got you something.' She says, almost shyly, handing him a box. 'Instead of a corsage...'

He peers inside and in the box is a beautiful purple crystal, embedded onto a necklace. It has some sort of foreign script engraved into it. 

‘Wait, is this…’ 

‘Yep! It’s the crystals we grew together at the lab last term!’ She beamed excitedly. ‘Didn’t they grow so beautifully?’ 

He turns the crystal in his fingers in awe. It’s been months since the incident with the beaker. ‘What does it say?’ 

‘O-oh. Um….’ 

She turns slightly red, embarrassed. Hordak is fascinated, he’s never seen her look like that before. He presses again, curious. 

Entrapta mumbles something incoherent, blushing up to her hairline. Her grip tightens on the fabric of his dress as she buries her head into his chest. 

‘Loved.’ 

His eyes widen in shock. She finally looks up, eyes burning with sudden conviction. The rest of the prom seems to fade away into the background. 

‘I love you, Hordak.’ 

Now it was his turn to go completely red- she also looks mortified, so now they were just two embarrassed teens in the middle of the dance floor.  

‘I-I love you too!’ He bursts out, awkward and fumbling but finally honest. 

‘Really?!’ She says, her hair floofing in excitement, like she can’t believe it. ‘You really do?’ 

‘Of course-’ and before he can explain the months of agony of being unable to fight his feelings she mashes her face against his. 

His knees almost buckle out of pure shock, but can feel himself melt into the kiss, her lips are unimaginably soft. He can feel her smile against his own, and she breaks it, giggling. She goes to say something but he's the one to interrupt her this time, kissing her over and over again as she squeals. 

He chuckles at her response, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this happy. 

--- 

It's been a year since, and they find a cozy apartment in between their universities. Entrapta’s studying engineering at MIT while being cross registered at Harvard.

Meanwhile Hordak studies space science at Columbia University, while working part time. 

Hordak had collected all of his and Imp’s legal documents, voice recordings and picture evidence of the abuse and emailed them to Entrapta’s lawyers. Since he turned 18 he was able to win the court case against Prime and take Imp in to be under his legal guardianship. Thankfully he also managed to get a restraining order after a few incidents since Prime was outraged at losing his servants. 

‘I’m home.’ He says, opening the door to find Entrapta chasing Emily around the apartment, his younger brother perched on top. She picks up Imp from her bot holding him in her arms.

'Welcome back!' She greets him with a kiss. 'Ready to start our new project?' 

Hordak smiles, he's been doing that a lot lately. All the suffering he'd been through was all worthwhile if it brought him to this happy little family. He thumbs his little LUVD necklace which he wears every day. 

'Always.'

[ohheyalex]

the phone calls that never came//a dickkory fic

A/N: Hey so I was supposed to post this fic a couple weeks ago but tumblr was being annoying so i just uploaded it onto my AO3 account. And I kinda forgot to post it here too lmao but here it is. Also this was supposed to go on my titans blog but the gif wasn’t showing up and uh I wasn't willing to give that up lmao This does have some angst to it and I may be writing another part. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it.

Summary: Kory and Dick are both on the same path to self discovery even though their journeys are separate for now, they can't seem to let go of each other completely.

She hadn’t heard from Dick in months and she doesn’t know how to feel about it to be honest. Her memories had begun to come in quicker since the fight with Trigon. Sometimes, she was fortunate enough to see the whole memory and other times Kory would just see flashes of her home planet. With each new thing she remembers, Kory seems to become more sure of herself. One thing she isn't set on is when or if she’ll go back to Dick and the kids. Kory hasn’t reached out either. Guilt slowly eats at her with each day that goes by that she hasn’t talked to Rachel, Gar and even Dick.

The mere thought of hearing his voice again makes her feel two things; fear and want. Fear of what the conversation could lead to or reveal and she isn’t ready for that just yet and want because she can’t help but be needy for him. Kory will probably never forget their first time, how gentle he was with her even though she’d seen him go postal on a guy a day prior. It shouldn't have been a shock to her with how mysterious he’s been since she’s met him but Dick was always finding ways to surprise her.

Kory isn’t sure of what she wants right now and that’s why she didn't go with him and the kids. She needed time to figure out who she is and what she had been through that past month since waking up in a totaled car left her at a complete loss of self. But she can’t say that she isn’t getting there.

“What are you thinking about?” Donna’s voice pierces through Kory’s thoughts.

Oh right they were looking over footage from surveillance cameras around the city. Kory brushed a hand through her hair but stops in fear of messing up the curls. That worry leaves as quick as it comes when she remembers that she no longer has her curly hair. It's now straight with a slight wave at the end for some oomph.

“Earth to Kory.” Donna waves a piece of beef and broccoli in her face.

Kory recovers fast, “Yea. So I was thinking we should look over the footage from 25th street until Sycamore Drive.”

The former Titan snorts, “Not what I asked but noted. Now tell me what’s going on in that alien head of yours.” Donna smirks. And Kory rolls her eyes at that quip but she knows it’s out of love. This friendship they’ve been able to forge has become the one thing Kory is certain about right now.

Kory pulls her hands from her lap and places them on the wood table in front of her. She starts to fiddle with the gold ring on her middle finger, she can’t help it.

Donna steals a piece of Kory’s orange chicken and plops it into her mouth while she waits for her to talk. She's learned that with Kory she’ll speak when she’s ready, there’s no need to push it out of her plus Donna wanted her to trust her. They ended up bonding over making fun of Dick when Donna pulled out some pictures from when he was a teenager.

“I don’t know I guess I just miss the kids.” Kory doesn’t have to see Donna’s face to know that she’s waiting for her to finish that sentence because even she knows that Kory has been thinking about him too. So Kory decides to vocalize it for the first time in three months, “And I miss Dick too.” That’s all she says and it doesn’t even touch the surface of what she’s feeling right now.

Donna nods while taking a sip of her beer, “Have you tried calling them?” And Kory just gives her a deadpan look. “Look there’s no shame in being the first one to call.” She offers thinking maybe that’s why Kory hasn’t gotten in contact.

She shakes her head, “No it’s not that. I’m just scared I guess of what the conversation will lead to. I don't know if I’m ready to talk to him. He hasn’t called either so maybe he doesn’t want to talk.” Kory shrugs, she’s trying to mask how she truly feels now but it doesn’t work. Donna sees right through it, “I doubt that. Don’t forget when I told you how whipped he sounded when we were following you to your ship a few months ago.” Kory can't help but laugh fondly at that, it made her happy to know that he had her back.

“Yea well I don't know if I’m ready to talk to him yet.” She stares at Donna and her eyes say everything for Kory. Donna takes another sip of her beer before giving Kory the best advice she could think of, “The only way you're going to get the answers to your questions is if you go to the source.”

Kory knows she’s right but it doesn't mean she’s going to do it.

San Francisco. 1 AM. Titans Tower

Dick can’t sleep.

He keeps tossing and turning every hour since he laid down at ten, he’s been trying to get into a routine again but it’s harder this time around. He thought about going into the training room and working out until he felt tired enough to sleep but then he runs the risk of waking up one of the kids. And he doesn’t want them worrying about him when they need to be focused on the lessons and what could come next.

After the tenth time he’s rolled over to a different corner of the king sized bed, he moves up to the headboard and plops down on his side. Dick’s thoughts are a jumbled mess of worries, fears and he’s started to think about her. He doesn’t want to, Dick doesn’t even want to delve into that part of his mind. He’s not ready to. Instead he focuses on how he walked into the kitchen a couple days ago and it was a complete disaster. The three teenagers had been laughing seconds prior to noticing that Dick had come back home early from the store.

Gar was the first to notice as he turned around to look into the reflective surface of the microwave, he caught sight of Dick. “Uh hey Dick!” He whipped around causing Rachel and Jason both to turn as well finally noticing him as he places a couple of bags onto the counter. He stacked three brooms and mops so that they’re leaning against one of the bar stools.

All he can do is laugh lightly at them, “Is my cooking that bad?”

“No it’s not that bad.” Raven says while flicking a piece of an egg shell off of her shoulder. He can tell she’s just being nice but of course leave it to Jason to be the honest one.

“Not bad? Rachel that cauliflower pizza wasn’t fucking edible! Look Dick I can’t do this, we gotta hire a chef. I can’t do anymore of your healthy cooking shit man.” Jason huffs and it makes Dick laugh.

“Here.” He gives Gar some cash, “Go get some lunch but not before you guys clean this place up.”

The three of them rush to the bags he brought as he goes to his room.

His phone buzzing on his side table brings him back to reality. It’s a text from Bruce, it’s about Jason of course. Just the usual question of how he’s doing and Dick let’s him know the young Robin’s progress. He’s still to quick to react with his fists but he’s trying is all Dick can really say. He knows that Jason just wants to go back to Gotham, he understands that he probably feels Bruce just dumped him off with Dick and maybe it seems that way. It doesn’t matter anyway Dick has learned that when Jason sets his mind on something, it’s hard for him to change it. He’ll still try though.

Dick sends out one more text before looking at the time. It’s been an hour and a half since he gave up on trying to sleep. He needs to fix this, he can’t be off his game right now because of the kids. They’re relying on him and Dick doesn’t want to let them down, he already did with Rachel and Gar. He shakes his head and forces his mind to not think about his previous failures, he has to move on and make amends.

His mind drifts again and this time he allows himself think of her. He rarely does, Dick knows it’s complicated for them both. He’s still trying to figuring out who he’s going to be now that he’s not Robin anymore. And she’s still remembering who she is and who she wants to be.

He wanted to give her space, if she wanted to come back then she would. It didn't mean that he didn't miss her. He does, he thinks about Kory every day. Dick just doesn’t say it out loud and who would he even talk to about Kory and his feelings for her? He’s not talking to the kids, that's out of the question. Dick hasn't spoken to Donna either, he knows what the Titans tower means to her and he doesn't want to burden her. Again, if she wanted to come back then that would have to be her decision. And Dick finds that his thoughts are just cycling each other because even though he misses the hell out of his best friend and this fascinating woman who he has developed these feelings for, he doesn’t want to pressure them.

So Dick decides to give them space because they need it and so does he. His emotions are sometimes hard to talk about but he’s getting better at it.

But then again maybe one phone call couldn’t hurt. His thumb clicks on the contacts icon on his phone and he scrolls until he gets to her name. Dick taps the contact and his thumb hovers over the call button. He can’t fucking do this, what is he even supposed to say?

'uh hey kory it’s dick, sorry for not calling you for three months, dick move huh.’

Dick rolls his eyes at his own awkwardness and his attempt at a joke. He’s glad that happened in his thoughts and no one was there to witness it, especially Kory.

He keeps his thumb over the call button for what seems like hours but is only fifteen minutes. Dick tosses his phone to the side and throws himself on the bed deciding on letting his fear of what could happen win for now. And funny for some reason now he feels like he can sleep, so he finally does and he hopes his dreams are only of a curly red haired beauty because that's the only way he's going to see her.

Chicago. 1 PM. Donna’s House.

Kory couldn’t sleep last night. A couple new memories had come back to her earlier that night and ever since then she’s been wide awake. Kory had the TV on with no sound on, she was content on listening to the rain just outside the window.

She had been going back and forth in her head on what she wanted to do. She missed the kids and Dick but she didn't know if she was done with exploring just yet. Plus if she went back, what would that mean for her and Dick? Kory takes two seconds before snatching her phone from the end of the bed and she scrolls through her contacts effortlessly landing on Dick’s.

Her thumb is inches from the screen, she’s almost there and all she has to do is push down. But she doesn’t, whatever courage she’s worked up vanishes as soon as it appeared and she throws her phone to the side. Kory crosses her arms and she can’t help but be upset with herself why can’t she just call him? A knock interrupts her next thought and before she can say come in, Donna walks in with a coffee cup in hand. “I found Shimmer. Well I got intel on where she’ll be. Come on, let’s go.” Donna starts tossing random pieces of Kory’s clothes that she just bought the other day at her.

Kory doesn’t move from her on spot on the bed, “Where are we going?”

Donna walks back to the entrance of the room and before she turns to leave she says, “A stake out.” She winks before leaving Kory to get dressed.

Yea maybe she’d call Dick after her and Donna caught Shimmer.

//

[abonlineboostup6]

Smartphone Buying Guide - Buy Best Mobile Phones

There are a couple of belongings you got to confine mind while buying the proper smartphone for yourself. You must identify what does one use your smartphone for. This guide takes you thru the entire process of choosing the simplest mobile .

Smartphones have snaked their way into almost every living moment of our technologically-fueled lives. More people are buying smartphones, and therefore the number of options is additionally increasing. Choosing a smartphone from such an awesome list of options might get confusing, so we made a guide that helps you choose the simplest smartphone for your needs.

You can check our extensive best smartphones buying guide for starters, but we recommend you to see out our guide the way to pick the proper smartphone in 2020.

WHAT to think about BEFORE BUYING A SMARTPHONE?

SMARTPHONE PERFORMANCE: PROCESSOR AND RAM

Your smartphone processor, also referred to as the chipset or the SoC, is that the component that's liable for almost everything working on your smartphone. it's essentially the brain of the system, and most of those processors also come equipped with AI capabilities that essentially make your smartphone as ‘smart’ it's today.

A capable processor not only allows your device to function seamlessly but is additionally capable of enhancing other factors. One example is image processing. Samsung phones, as an example, comes in two variants - one hosting the Snapdragon chipset (the latest one being Snapdragon 865+). In contrast, the opposite one employs Samsung’s in house Exynos processor (the latest being Exynos 990). Some reviewers have explicitly stated that there's a tangible difference in not just the processing power of the 2 variants, the Snapdragon being much snappier, but also the image-processing abilities.

So, once you choose your smartphone, it's integral to understand what processor you’re getting along side it since the performance directly correlates with it. Popular ones include Snapdragon, Apple A13 Bionic, Exynos 990, and Kirin 990. Apple processors are known for his or her raw computing power, and Snapdragon processors are the closest equivalent within the Android realm. you furthermore may have lower-powered processors for mid-range and budget devices like the Snapdragon 730 and 730G, Snapdragon 675, MediaTek Helio G90T and G85, and more, that are commonly found in lower-priced 2020 smartphones. If you’re on a budget and don’t mind sacrificing some power to save lots of money, consider buying phones with one among these processors since they drive down costs quite bit. Buying Guide

Coming to RAM, this refers to system memory that smartphones use to carry data that active applications are using. some of your smart- phone’s RAM is usually spent by the OS , to stay it run- ning. We’re not getting to get into the nitty-gritty of RAM usage during a phone since it involves explaining terms like kernel-space which can find yourself taking tons of room during this article. Having sufficient RAM can allow you to possess a bigger number of apps running within the background, which significantly affects your multitasking experience. However, some smartphones are breaking all barriers and installing a whopping 12-16 GB of RAM in their smartphones. That’s definitely overkill for smartphones, especially if you don’t plan on switching between 10-20 apps at an equivalent time. If you’re a light-weight smartphone user, someone who only uses their phone for calls, texts, What- sApp and lightweight browsing, you'll easily escape with 3-4 GB RAM. For power users, something round the ballpark of 6-8 GB is perfectly fine.

CHOICE OF OS

It boils right down to two options - Android or iOS. the selection is really more complicated than you imagine since both operating systems have a large list of pros and cons. If you’re someone who enjoys tinkering around together with your device and customising it to your heart’s content, you’re Team Android. If you wish an easy , powerful OS which gets constant software updates and is supported for a more extended period, you’re Team iOS. Nevertheless, Android is additionally almost as powerful but almost as simple, although the present Android version has become much simpler to use than the times of Gingerbread. Just know that iOS, as an OS, is sort of limiting, in some cases. as an example , you can't sideload apps from the web if they're not available on the App Store, the split-screen mode still isn’t a thing on iPhones (just iPads), you can't customise your home screen (although iOS 14 may include widgets), and you actually cannot use launchers to completely change the design of your phone. However, iOS comes with a plethora of benefits also , like iMessage, FaceTime, regular software updates, and therefore the biggest of all, minimal bloatware, and no adware! We’re watching you, Xiaomi!

PREFERED interface

You also need to confine mind that numerous smartphones accompany their own skin or UI (user interface) smacked on top of Android. OnePlus has OxygenOS, a clean skin that's quite on the brink of stock Android, Samsung comes with One UI 2, which has improved by leaps and bounds from its TouchWiz days, MIUI on Xiaomi phones, which is an ad-fest but is well-optimised, ColorOS on Oppo and Realme smartphones, that's heavily inspired by iOS.

Remember to undertake and knowledge the UI before buying the device to ascertain if it works for you.

A GOOD DISPLAY

Smartphone display sizes seem to be ever-increasing and are continually pushing the boundary of what we’d expect a smartphone display size to be. They’ve reached the ‘phablet’ realm with displays even reaching up to six .9-inches!

However, within the age where content is being consumed increasingly on our pocket devices (hard to call them that now), this might not be a nasty thing. we propose anything above 5.7 inches so you'll really immerse yourself into games and media. As far as display types go, you've got LCD and AMOLED displays. AMOLED displays have variants like OLED or Super AMOLED (in the case of Sam- sung) and have better contrast and darker blacks. They also assist in saving battery since they close up all the black pixels on the phone to display ‘true black’. Buying Guide

Next, you furthermore may have various resolutions like Full HD, Full HD+ Quad HD. While QHD does provide crisper images, the difference between FHD and QHD isn't too jarring, especially to the untrained eye. you ought to also check the screen protection on your device. Gorilla 5 and 6 are usually utilized in current-generation smartphones, and that they provide reasonable protection for your glass sandwiches. However, we still recommend a case strongly.

THE RIGHT AMOUNT OF STORAGE

The current standard is 64GB on lower-end models and 128GB to 512GB on flagships. With swift sharing apps and technologies, most folks import every single GB of knowledge from our previous phones to the new ones. So, adequate storage is important . We recommend that you simply don't go under 128GB since it'll offer you enough breathing space to stay your data also as download apps to your heart’s content. Also, keep an eye fixed out for phones with expandable memory storage. Buying Guide

BATTERY LIFE that matches YOUR DAILY REQUIREMENTS

The golden standard of battery life in flagship smartphones is 6+ hours of screen on time. Anything with higher capacities can mostly allow even heavy-users to power through. Flagship phones, also as some mid-range phones, also can reach 8-10 hours of screen on time, which is brilliant. The goal is to urge a phone which will a minimum of pull through one whole day of intensive usage. So, ensure to see battery tests online before purchasing a tool . Also, attempt to research if the phone you’re planning on buying features a decent power-saving mode. Buying Guide

CAMERA QUALITY THAT JUSTIFIES the worth

In 2020, multi-cameras are the norm and phones with only one rear camera are extremely rare now. you always get a primary lens which sports the very best MP count, a camera lens , and a wide-angle shooter. And then, you furthermore may have a couple of extras that some manufacturers add like the ToF (Time of Flight) sensor, macro lens, and colour filter lens. We, at the Digit Labs, are fans of the fisheye lens due to the magnitude of images you'll now combat phones. Capturing sprawling scenes isn't a drag anymore! The camera lens , when done well, can produce spectacular bokeh shots too. However, if this trend just isn’t for you and therefore the growing camera bumps enrage you, it might be best to shop for older phones with one primary lens or newer ones like the iPhone SE 2020. Also, don’t go MP hunting, higher megapixel-count doesn’t always mean better images since the sensor size is far more integral to producing good photos.

Smartphones have also been employing pixel-binning, which essentially turns four or more pixel into one big pixel, that adds clarity and detail to the image. Also, for now, attempt to stray faraway from the 108MP sensors since they’re pretty rough round the edges at the instant plagued with image fringing and autofocus issues.

MISCELLANEOUS THINGS to think about

Wireless charging

Gaming Mode

Fingerprint sensor vs Face Unlock

Bluetooth version

IP Rating

Dual sim

Reverse wireless charging

Stereo speakers

NFC

Dual-band Wi-Fi

WHAT to not CONSIDER?FOLDABLE DESIGNS

While the planning evolution is innovative and smart, it's just too early to be completely reliable. Our verdict? Hold off on buying foldable phones for a couple of years .Buying Guide

5G SMARTPHONES

In a country just like the US which is slowly but surely seeing widespread 5G integration (low band or mmWave), sure, choose 5G phones to futureproof. However, 5G integration in India remains a ways away, and therefore the proper rollout is years away. So, it makes no sense paying more to get a 5G phone.

[ionlycareaboutyou]

prompt: kind of a niche ship but could you write some richie n seth fluff pls? i love your fics!!✨

omg i love this ship. i’ve written them vaguely (richie/seth/stefon threesome fic) but never on their own? so this was a v fun challenge for me. i hope u like it, u’ve inspired me to write more for them!

cw for this being set in IT ch 2 canon, so eddie is like. dead and gone for good, unfortunately, and it is discussed. i picture this fic being set around 2017. i promise this fic isn’t just richie angst, there’s fluff! just gotta get through some sad parts first.

When he moved back to New York City, Richie felt like his 29-year-old self again. He still does sometimes. The NYC comedy scene and the LA one are distinctly different, despite all the NYC expats who move to LA to star in films or do voice acting or settle down and have a few kids. It didn’t feel right to go back, though. LA was all shine and sun, several layers of sky blue paint over decades worth of grime. At least NYC was honest in its grime for the most part. At least New Yorkers were able to joke about their greasy ass pizza and subway rats instead of all trying to be Instagram influencers. 

The real truth was that Richie had friends in NYC. In LA, he had none. And what he needed was friends. 

The funny thing about reconnecting with an old friend is that sometimes, even though it seems like a lot has changed, they’re still the same person, deep down. 

Seth is still a workaholic--the same workaholic who Richie met back when he hosted SNL for the first time. He still stays up til 4 AM sometimes, drinking dark, bitter coffee for the caffeine rather than the taste, darting in and out of cubicles, asking if anything new has cropped up in the past few hours that’s monologue worthy. He still wears those ratty sweatshirts during the day and changes into suits for the evening. He does shave more consistently, Richie will give him that. He still laughs high pitched and loud when a joke really gets him, and he still laughs at his own jokes, even, stumbling through them sometimes with tears welling up in his eyes. He still loves to drink tequila and whiskey and anything really that brings heat to his cheeks and more of that laughter bubbling out of his chest, though he tells Richie he doesn’t drink as much as he used to--he’s far too old for it now, and the hangovers are intense.

(“I do wanna do a day drinking segment with Rihanna, though,” he confides in him once over lunch. They’re eating greasy pizza, and Richie feels like he’s in heaven, because the shit in LA doesn’t even begin to measure up.

“Rihanna? Do you have, like, connections to her or something?”

“No! I wish,” Seth frowns at his slice of pepperoni. “Do you?”

Richie hoots out a laugh. “Dude, you are severely overestimating me if you think I know Rihanna. Good luck on your quest, though.”

“Hey, maybe Rihanna’s got a thing for raunchy comedians who wear the same shirt three days in a row and own like, two pairs of sneakers and refuse to buy new ones. I don’t know her personally, either.”

Richie flicks a piece of mushroom right at Seth’s face. He laughs in that way he does, and Richie’s chest flutters.)

And maybe it’s the fact that Seth is still Seth--still blue-eyed, New Hampshire, toothy grin Seth--that makes Richie fall for him. And he’s not even surprised by it. He thinks he’s always sort of had a piece of his heart reserved for Seth, even when he moved to LA. He was the first one to send him a congratulatory text when the news broke that he got Late Night, and he was always happy to wander around his too-empty LA apartment and shoot the shit with him for hours long phone calls about everything and anything and nothing at all. Seth was the first to welcome Richie with open arms back to NYC. They were the sort of friends that never truly fell apart, even when they went a while without speaking to each other.

It all comes tumbling out eventually, why Richie is back in NYC. Seth never really poses the question, but when Richie calls him one Tuesday night at 3 AM, eyes unfocused and hot with tears and chest heaving with hyperventilating sobs, the answer becomes clear to him. 

He’s still awake, of course, sitting in his office and staring at the writers’ Slack chat when the phone rings. “Are you awake, man? I’m sorry if I woke you,” Richie says into the phone, warbly.

Seth manages to talk him down from it when Richie admits he had a pretty vivid nightmare. He doesn’t judge him for a second or wonder why a 40-year-old man is so shook up by one. He simply talks slow and soft into the phone, telling him it’s okay and grounding him as best as he can. “You can tell me anything, Rich, you know that, right?” His voice is so goddamn sweet Richie wants to sob all over again.

So he tells him everything--well, rather, a condensed version of everything. He tells him he had friends as a kid back in Maine, really close friends, and they met up again after drifting apart, and he tells him that he saw his best friend in the world die right in front of his eyes. He’s careful with his words, but something tells him that even if he did explain all the clown shit, Seth would listen and comfort him all the same, even if he was confused by it. “I feel so bad for dumping this shit on you, dude,” Richie says, fighting back the tears that he’s finally managed to quell. “It’s just--”

“Shh, hey, it’s okay,” Seth assures him, “I can’t fucking imagine. I’m so sorry. I know that sounds really lame, to say I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t really fix anything.”

“It’s okay. I haven’t--no one really knows. I mean, my friends know, they were there, too, but...God, it’s so fucking complicated.” He lays his head back down on his pillow and exhales a shaky sigh, feeling mostly back down to earth. “I guess I just. I picked up my phone and dialed you because I needed to know everything was...you were okay and I wasn’t still in that fucking dream.”

“I get it. You don’t have to worry about that. You know I keep crazy hours anyway.” They manage to get a chuckle out of that. “I hope this doesn’t sound insensitive, but I’m glad you were with him in his final moments, I’m sure he was very glad to have you there.”

Richie swallows the baseball-sized lump in his throat. “God, I sure fucking hope so. He was…” he stops himself. He hadn’t told the other Losers what he wanted to say about Eddie and how he felt about him, but he was certain they knew. Seth is completely detached from this whole situation, but maybe putting out what he’s been harboring in his chest for so long will take some weight off it. “He was the first person I really fell in love with.”

“Oh, Rich.” Seth’s voice is soft and sad. 

“I know that’s a lot to tell you, and like, I haven’t even really told you, or anyone that I’m gay, but I guess here it is, this is so damn...ungraceful,” he rambles with a shaky little laugh, “But I guess I’m not really graceful anyway.”

“It’s okay. You know it doesn’t bother me at all, right? God, I sound like--every straight dude in the world right now. I’m totally cool with gays!”

“Well, maybe a little,” Richie says, unable to not give him a little shit, and he’s happy to hear Seth laugh on the other end. “But thanks. I’m glad you were the first person I told.”

“Well, when I tell you about the dudes I hooked up with in college, I know you’ll be chill about it, too.” Seth says, then adds, “Oh, guess I just did.”

“You what? Seth middle-name Meyers.”

“It’s Adam.” 

“Not the point. You what?”

“Dude, haven’t I told you like a million times about my crush on James Spader? Do you know how many times I’ve watched Pretty in Pink? Too many times. That’s not even the best Hughes film.”

“I thought that was like--a joke! You always said you wanted to grow your hair out like that!” He’s smiling against the phone, really truly grinning at this whole mutual coming out situation, and he’s so happy to be smiling again.

“Well, yeah, I do, but also, like, he was hot, okay? Him being bald now is the greatest tragedy of my life.” Seth says, laughing even more. 

“You know, I haven’t gone bald yet. I’ve got plenty of hair. It’s unwashed right now, but feel free to run your hands through it. We can roleplay. I’ll be...fuck, what was his name? The Pretty in Pink guy?” Richie hasn’t seen that movie since it came out. 

Seth answers very quickly. “Steff.”

“That’s it! I’ll be Steff, and you can be...Andie! That’s her name.” 

“Steff wasn’t the love interest, though, remember? He was the love interest’s asshole friend.”

Richie hums. “I’m kind of an asshole. Not as pretty of an asshole as Spader, though.”

“I think you’re perfectly pretty.”

“Thanks,” he smiles again. His stomach knots itself up, then un-knots. Seth Meyers, the man who’s all blue eyes, New Hampshire, and salt-and-pepper hair is calling him pretty. What a world.

After he hangs up and manages to catch a few hours of sleep, he’s not surprised when he gets a call from Seth a few days later asking if he wants to grab a drink, and there’s a different tone to his voice. He can’t quite place it, but it almost sounds nervous, like he doesn’t want to screw this up. He doesn’t screw anything up, though, and when they make their way back to Seth’s apartment, pleasantly buzzed, and end up on his couch, lips on lips, Richie isn’t really surprised, either. He smiles into each one.

--

They seem to divide their time in between either apartment, not quite ready to have the “hey, let’s move in together” conversation. It’s only been a few months, and they’re taking their time. Richie’s never let himself take his time before.

Most nights, they’re tangled up in whatever bed they’ve fallen into--tonight, it’s Seth’s, and Richie has managed to get him home at a reasonable time, around midnight, even though the show filmed several hours before. (“The news and the president don’t stop,” Seth has explained to him before, “But God, I wish they would.”) He’s running his fingers through Seth’s hair, which is surprisingly soft once all the product is washed out. Richie never gets tired of touching it. “You’re halfway to Spader, I think.”

“Yeah? I’ll see if makeup and wardrobe approve of me growing it out any longer, or if they’ll force me to cut it.” Seth sounds sleepy, but even in the dark Richie can tell he’s smiling.

“I’d like it,” he says, and presses a kiss to the line of Seth’s jaw. “Isn’t that enough?”

“For me? More than enough.” Seth brings him in for a proper kiss, long and deep and warm, hands wandering and stroking skin, unhurried and sweet. 

When they pull apart, it comes tumbling out, as things seem to do. “I love you.” It’s the first time Richie has said it. He’s known it, without a shadow of a doubt, for a while now. And he thinks Seth knew it, too, even if it went unsaid. He understood that Richie was working up to this sort of thing, to opening himself up and allowing himself to cry and feel and say things like that. Like I love you. And now it’s come out, like it was always bound to, and Richie feels Seth smile against his temple.

“I love you, too.”

“More than James Spader?”

Seth laughs. “Much more.” He pulls him in for another kiss, and they say “I love you” many more times that night, and almost every night afterward.

[kleptonancydrew]

MID Thoughts

So I’m not one of the people with the thought process for typing out a cohesive review so you’ll be catching my train of thought. Sorry.

One of the big things I have noticed in the reviews is that if you like talking to characters you are much more likely to enjoy the game. Talking to people and cutscenes (with rare exceptions) have always been my least favourite part of Nancy Drew games. So for me the major uptick in dialogue and cutscenes made the game miserable. (And yes you can skip them - but on the first play through you want to know what’s going on.) Also the captions need to be fixed before the next game - let me see the whole thing please. 

I enjoy the historical aspects of the game. I took two courses relating to the history of witchcraft in uni so a lot of this actually took me back to my Witchcraze class. There was a lot to learn but I was disappointed with the museum - it feels like we could have had several more displays. I also don’t love the way they take text from things and then put it into a tiny straight forward display. I know that for some this might help and it should be included but the control for it should be elsewhere - not in the center of the page when I’m trying to turn pages. 

The tour thing should have more clear. The tablet thing took a tick to figure out. As should the offering things to people. In previous games you have to talk to people to exchange objects and I got stuck for a bit. 

Maybe the controls are better if you are playing with a mouse but like many adults I rely on laptops exclusively. The whole right click thing was very difficult. As a somewhat petulant side note - I have a touchscreen laptop and previous games have all been pretty touchscreen friendly for most things. This game was not touch screen friendly at all. Something minor is that why did they get rid of the magnifying glass cursor - would that really have been so hard to integrate? It is fitting and cute. 

I wish a line had been dropped (maybe it was and I missed it) about how just because something is herbal and all natural that does not mean that it is good for YOU. People are all different and herbal remedies can have major side effects based on personal health. They can also screw with any modern medicines you take. Some can also interact poorly when you are using multiple. And if you don’t have the issue that something is treating that can also cause problems. I know most of us here are adults (I’m pretty sure most everyone here who wasn’t when MID was announced certainly is now), but like kids also play this game and I don’t want them getting medical advice from Nancy Drew. 

(Also maybe a line about how yes we don’t burn ‘witches’ anymore but satanism is still bad and magic isn’t real.) 

Alicia’s comments about Jason and him being attractive were really uncomfortable. I’m a teacher and I go through so many protect the young ‘ins things that this was really setting off all my alarm bells. I know he’s supposed to be over eighteen but so are some of my seniors - does not make it okay in my book. 

The plot was fine - good intrigue and was interesting. Some of it was weird but was explained by poisoning. Some parts were very confusing to me. I have no idea how anyone got underground. How could a teenager just leave their cell phone and peace out (well actually I did have to run out of the school the other day to find a kid who forgot their phone at the end of the day). I did like the scare in the bed - that was cool. 

Making the pancakes was fun - I wish you had to switch up the recipes for the special pancakes, that would be more fun in my book. The herbal stuff wasn’t really complicated after you got the first couple done. 

I didn’t really think much of the puzzles. Based on the way I played through (maybe different if I go again) they were all clumped up towards the very end. 

I didn’t love a lot of the personalities in the games. But, I rarely do so whatever. 

I’ve posted before about how the navigation feels like kayaking in DDI - you need to be in exactly the right place to get where you want to go and it takes forever to do so. I found the town center and the museum really difficult to navigate in particular. 

Maybe I’m stupid and never quite understood the laurel in the mirror thing - was that supposed to be some type of Lauren look here? Remember how Josiah Crowley put his will in a safety deposit box at a bank - what ever happened to doing that? Or one of those fireproof lock boxes? Also was there any point to the bedroom at either house? Besides the one weird dream and Teegan’s photo? 

Also I didn’t like how things kept saying the same thing when you accidentally clicked on them - like I know that has been a thing historically but it’s still annoying. 

Also what was with all the papers and stuff on the floor and spread everywhere constantly? I’m a mess and my organization is accomplished by making piles everywhere but even I’m not nearly that bad. 

Also, much like TOT - it’s really obvious who the thief is right away. 

Another thing is that like, did HER even make this game? No. If I wanted a game from another company I’d give them money. I turn to HER because they have previously had a history of turning out two decent if not fabulous games a year. 

I like having more places to explore. I dislike that they take so long to load. Even the game startup takes forever compared to other games. 

The lip syncing is really annoying - it seemed like they had fixed that over a decade ago. Also the text and dialogue didn’t match. I am someone who always has captions on things and having them so off is irritating. 

TBH I didn’t really feel like the Hardy Boys added much to this game. 

Also the whole Carson is friends with the Judge guy reminded me of how I greatly dislike my dad’s so called best friend. Just because a dad is willing to overlook some people’s faults doesn’t mean the daughter is. 

Also, the continued mention of Salem being like some sort of small town where everyone knows everyone is so out of place with our knowledge that this does take place in 2019 (or around this time). Salem has a population of over 40 thousand according to the Google. My hometown is somewhere just under 30 thousand which I considered small town, until I moved to the midwest where it is apparently bigger than most cities. I’m not saying someone cannot be a known entity in a town that size (high school sports in America make plenty of teenagers decently known in towns), I’m saying that there should be enough going on in that town that someone else has caused trouble since. The only reason I remember the name of the kid who got hit walking home from school causing the town to put in a very inconvenient traffic light is because we went to the same uni in a different state and he got kicked out twice. (I crossed that stupid highway everyday with zero issues, probably even on the same day he got hit.) I was gonna say something about modern education systems working on bleeding out such backwards thinking but then I remember that we’re literally graduating nazis so like, nvm. (My personal goal as a teacher is to contribute to eliminating innocent ignorance - kids aren’t born knowing things and the adults in their lives need to work on introducing them in positive ways to avoid the distrust, fear, and hatred that stem from ignorance.) 

Maybe if they fix the navigation and optimize it better for the vast majority of the population who use laptops with trackpads (I don’t have a desk where the hell am I supposed to put a mouse?) it could nice for the next game. But they also need to work on the character animation and other issues. But then like, do we even know there will be a next time? I know Little Jackalope’s positive media minions have said so. But they also said 2016. And October. And any number of other things that might have been said in good faith but ended up not being true.   

I think I just feel meh about everything. This was not the best game ever, and yeah maybe SCK and STFD had some pretty bad graphics too - but it’s twenty years later, I was hoping we’d be moving forward not back. If you want a really positive review look elsewhere. I’m still committed to HER but I realised the other day that very few of my newer friends/coworkers know how obsessed I have always been with HER because I’ve had nothing to talk about. It sorta feels like I’ve lost a part of my personality. 

Also the physical copy cover is real shitty. I feel like that 100% could have been fixed if more attention was payed. You can’t even see the name of the game. 

[dicebox]

Assembly (Deadlands Fic)

Asher’s Creek

Jillian Cain rode into Asher’s Creek slowly, as much for herself as for her horse. A recent encounter with a herd of undead buffalo had left her injured and drained, and much as she preferred riding the range on her own as the Almighty’s Word, sometimes she needed a roof over her head and a decent meal in her belly. Besides, Asher’s Creek was a reasonably-sized township, and maybe there was someone in town who could do some repair work on her guns. As channels for the Almighty’s power, they were well enough, but from the purely earthly standpoint, they could probably pack a bit more punch.

She approached Asher’s Creek saloon and inn, and stopped dead fifty yards or so from the building as something at the hitching post caught her eye. The ... thing was the approximate size and shape of the average mule, but it was made of metal, boxy of body, and beeping to itself in a contented sort of way. For a moment, Jillian considered whether or not this was an abomination unto the Almighty ... then decided that as long as it wasn’t eating people, she should probably leave the machine alone. Still, she tied up her horse as far away from the metal mule as the hitching post allowed, and eyed it suspiciously as she entered the saloon.

Curiosity and self-interest spurred Jillian into examining the saloon’s patrons as she walked in. Quasi-abomination or not, the metal mule outside suggested someone with a way with machinery, and guns were just a less complicated form of machinery. If she wanted someone to look her six-shooters over with an eye to improvements, she could probably do worse. She could at least take the man’s measure, see if whatever oddity of mind possessed someone to make a mechanical mule could be effectively harnessed for a one-time fix-it job.

The ‘man’, when Jillian found what she was looking for ... wasn’t. All of the men in the inn were the usual range-riders, farmers and occasional shopkeepers; most of the women were farmwives, schoolmarms and one or two ‘ladies of the evening’. But one young woman - no more than a girl, really - stood out. No one with any sense whatsoever tried to dye their hair with boot-black, but that’s what this girl had apparently done. Her clothes were too good for the riding she’d been doing, given the tatters and dirt. She was eyeing her wallet, or its contents at least, with an expression that telegraphed nerves and chagrin.

So the girl was in trouble. That made things a little easier. Jillian went to the bar and picked up a couple of mugs of beer, then made her way to the girl’s table, putting the beer down in front of the girl without a word. The girl, for her part, made a nervous squeaking noise and cut her sharp brown eyes from the mug to Jillian’s face. Jillian could almost see the girl’s mind working, mapping out possibilities and approaches ... and then, in the worst fake accent Jillian had ever heard, she spoke up: “Sooooo ... what kin Ah do ya for?”

After eyeing the girl dubiously for a moment, Jillian just said, “Don’t bother.”

The girl blinked. “Wut.”

“The accent. Don’t bother. It needs work.” While the girl was sufficiently derailed, Jillian got down to business. “That your mechanical mule outside?”

“Uh-huh.” She bit her lip and, quietly, in an accent that was pure Northern and clearly her real one, said, “That’s Muffin. Muffin is awesome.”

Jillian felt her brain trying to actively shut down at the thought of someone naming their mechanical mule the same thing as Jillian herself had named the family cat when she was nine, and took a moment to dismiss it. Then she returned to her original text. “Is that the only mechanical know-how you’ve got?”

The girl shook her head, looking proud. “I like fixing things! Also sometimes boom, when boom is required!” Her eyes landed on the butts of Jillian’s pistols and brightened with interest. “Ooh. You’ve got guns. Did you want me to fix your guns? I can do that!”

Jillian, who hadn’t seen this level of enthusiasm in a very long time and wasn’t sure how to handle it, backed off, stalling with a question: “What’s your name?”

“Um...” For someone whose mind seemed to work a little too fast for common sense, the girl took a suspiciously long time coming up with a name. “Uh ... Aloy! Aloy O’Toole. Pleased to meet you.” She held out a hand for the shaking, biting her lower lip with every appearance of nerves overlaid with high-class manners.

Jillian raised an eyebrow and eyed the self-styled Aloy before taking the offered hand. “Are you gonna stick with that? The name.”

“It’s as good a name as any.” Aloy shrugged. “I mean, it’s something people can call me. It works.”

Having retrieved her hand from the handshake, Jillian took a long drink from her mug while deciding how to proceed. Finally, she asked, “You in some kind of trouble?”

Aloy looked Jillian over for a moment, clearly doing some unfathomable calculation in her head. Eventually, she leaned close for some semblance of privacy and said, “Well ... you know ghost rock? Well, I kind of stopped some people messing with it in bad ways that involved zombie factory workers. Boom was involved. So I sort of want to keep my head down right now, okay?” There was so much more to that story; Aloy couldn’t have been more obvious about it. She also couldn’t have been more obvious about her refusal to say more at that point.

For herself, Jillian was minded to let Aloy keep the details to a minimum. She knew what she needed to; mostly, that she and this strange Northern girl with the mechanical mule and the overactive brain had some common interests. Still, there was a difference between ‘letting this strange Yankee look at her guns’ and ‘letting this strange Yankee tag along on her mission from the Lord’. While the compassionate part of her wanted to help, and a tiny part of herself she tried to ignore these days murmured something about being glad of some company other than her horse on long lonely rides across the plains, the sensible part of her - which was most of her - was still incredibly wary. They’d start with the guns, she decided. At least she could make sure the weird little Yankee had some cash in her pocket--

Then the screams started outside, and Jillian dismissed the entire thing, getting out of her chair and out the door without so much as a word to Aloy.

Jillian froze on the balcony, then groaned at the sight that greeted her. She’d thought that herd of undead buffalo had been a little smaller than the usual plains herd. Now here were the rest of them, eight in all, rampaging through town looking for something to bite. The townsfolk had managed to stay out of biting range so far, but that wouldn’t last long, and while demons couldn’t always afford to be picky, they preferred human suits to wear. Letting one of the ... well, things that had possessed the corpses of these buffalo get hold of a human being, and things would get very ugly, very fast. She grabbed for her guns without hesitation, surveying the main street for a first target.

Something nudged her in the back, and when Jillian turned to look, she saw Aloy running past, the pitter-patter of truly inappropriate shoes on balcony boards nearly unheard over the sound of the miniature stampede. She unhitched the mechanical mule, grabbed something that looked like a blunderbuss gone wrong off its back, then shouted, “Muffin! CHARGE!”

Jillian watched, dumbfounded, as the mechanical mule surged forward on its weird metal legs and rammed its head into the nearest undead buffalo, knocking it into the front wall of the local jailhouse. Aloy pointed her weird blunderbuss at another one, and while there was still a lot more shooting to be done, Jillian had to watch the trigger pulled on that thing. Not least because if it exploded in the girl’s face, something would probably have to be done for her.

The expected explosion never happened. Instead, little glass tubes along the side of the blunderbuss lit up with a faint whining noise before lightning arced from the barrel, hitting her target and reducing it to a smoking, jittering pile of spoiled buffalo meat. The grin on Aloy’s face was disturbing as she cried, jubilance personified, “THE UPGRADES WORK!”

Jillian only allowed herself time to side-eye the weird little Yankee briefly before getting her mind back on business. She’d thought she was too tired for much more of this kind of thing, but the Lord didn’t accept that kind of excuse, and the power rose up in her with the words, “BACK TO THE HELL FROM WHENCE YE CAME, ABOMINATIONS, IN THE NAME OF THE LORD!” Even as she spoke, she started shooting.

Later

Jillian and Aloy, now with the understanding that their money was no good at the Asher’s Creek Saloon, sat back in their corner, exhausted and a little battered, but breathing. Aloy spent most of the meal grumbling into her beans: “It’s gonna take weeks to get the dents out of Muffin. And a new ball peen hammer. He hates the hammer. I’m gonna have to chase him around the street for an hour.”

Jillian considered asking why she kept treating her machine like it was alive, and then decided against it. For all her quirks, Aloy was clearly pretty handy. Which brought her back to her original thought: “So do you work with ... normal guns?”

“Oh, yeah, I wanted to ask you about that!” Aloy’s eyes brightened and she looked over Jillian’s holsters in a covetous sort of way. “I mean, those are okay? But I could make them so much better - more accurate, more boom, maybe channel that ... God thing you do better, even. I’d need a couple of hours for the work and probably a day or so to let the bruises on my shoulder fade so I don’t twitch wrong and mess it up, but... Did you want me to?”

Jillian considered. Aloy talked too much, flailed too much, and was a little unsettling at the best of times. Still, she could get her shit together when she had to and that Muffin thing, however bizarre, was useful. After a long moment to consider her words, she said, “Well ... I guess you can tell how I’m not too fond of the undead and those that make them, any more than you say you are. Might be I could use a gunsmith on the regular, if they don’t mind not having a steady home. Makes it hard to find a body, being on the move all the time.”

Aloy tilted her head as she thought over what Jillian had said ... and what she left unsaid. Then she smiled bright as a sunrise on a clear day. “I could do that.” Then she leaned out the window and called, “Did you hear that, Muffin? Adventure!”

Quietly, so as not to be heard over the delighted beeping of the mechanical mule, Jillian sighed and muttered, “What did I get myself into?”

[justkending]

Knock, Knock. Chapter 34.

Chapter Summary: You wake up to a surprise, and now a decision needs to be made.

Pairing: (single) Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff.

Word Count: 2800+

Series Masterlist

Part 34:

The night ended with the boys and Gen distracting you from everything. You decided that you would call Jensen tomorrow because out of all days, this was his busiest shooting wise, and he would probably not even see his phone until the morning. You had already made your face time call earlier in the day too so now you just waited.

Gen put the boys to sleep in your room, and you and her pulled an old college trick of sleeping in the same bed. It had been a while since you did this, but back in college when you were both in two different states, but wanted to visit each other, you would just share a twin size bed in the dorms. You would stay up eating junk food, giggling about crushes, talking about the future, and staying up way later than you should.

Tonight wasn’t any different. You needed it now more than ever with the she-devil coming in and trying to ruin your life. She got your mind off it by talking about old memories that you had completely forgot about, and you reciprocated the distraction.

While you two were giggling and close to sleep, you saw a little figure in the doorway, with another little figure close by.

“Mom?”

“Tom, what are you doing up? Shep? You two should be asleep.” she said sitting up and walking over to them.

You sat up and rested your back against the backboard.

“Yeah, but I couldn’t sleep, and Shep had a bad dream.” Tom answered shyly.

“Ok, come on let’s go back in Aunt Y/N’s room-” Gen started guiding them out, but you stopped her before she could even cross the threshold.

“Nonsense. Bring them in here Gen.”

“Y/N-”

“It’s a California King size bed Gen. We can all fit… and then some.” you laughed waving them over. “Plus, I can you some cuddles from the little kiddos.”

“You sure?” she said bringing them in hesitantly.

“Positive. Here Tom you can sleep in the middle, and Shep can sleep on the other side by your mom.” you patted the bed.

Tom didn’t hesitate to crawl in right next to you, and curl into your arms. It had been a while since you all cuddled. Probably when they were both babies. You missed this.

Once you were all situated, it only took seconds before you heard light snoring and breathing coming from the boys.

“That was easy.” Gen yawned.

“Yeah.” you yawned back. “Let’s get some sleep. I have a feeling we are going to need some rest if we ant to deal with tomorrow.”

She nodded in agreement, and you both drifted off with the Tv playing quietly in the background.

__

You woke up the a gently brushing of someone's hand on your cheek, and then it moved to your hair. You figured it was Tom or Shep doing it in their sleep. They had done it when they were younger and it was the cutest thing. Yet again it was not as soft and intimate as whoever was doing it now.

You slowly opened your eyes feeling how heavy they were from the stress of last night. The first thing you saw was a clean shaven Jensen with his green eyes watching you intensely. You blinked a couple of times to make sure you weren’t dreaming, and saw him smile at your reaction.

“Jens?” you said in a tired morning voice. You went to move, but you stopped realizing Tom was burrowed in your arms.

“Shhhh.” Jensen said looking down at Tom. “You have a mini Jared in your arms. I promise you you don’t want to wake him.” You shifted to see if Gen was still there and saw that her and Shep were gone. Jensen saw where your mind was and answered your silent question. “Gen is downstairs making pancakes with Shep. I got in about 20 minutes ago.”

“Why are you here Jensen? You should be filming.” you whispered, but felt Tom shift.

“This is so adorable I don’t want to wreck the view, but we may need to move this conversation somewhere else.” Jensen laughed quietly moving some hair out of Tom’s face.

“Right.”

“Here.” Jensen ever so carefully moved to pick up Tom without waking him. Surprisingly, he did it without any trouble, and Tom was in his arms still fast asleep.

You followed out of bed slowly and stretched before following Jensen. You smiled seeing the little guy still knocked out over his shoulder and your heart warmed at the thought of Jensen with his own kids. But just as fast as it came, the realization of last night and all the bullshit that went down came back.

“Hey, I’m going to grab a sweater and meet you down there.” you said placing a hand on his open shoulder.

He turned nodding and leaning down to give you a quick, and surprise kiss on the lips. You returned it gladly, and before he went downstairs, he kissed your forehead in comfort.

You watched him carefully make his way down the stairs trying his best not to jostle and wake the mini-Jared in his arms. Another grin found its way to your face before you turned going to get an oversized sweater from your room.

Once, you were in the living room, you saw that Tom was tucked into the couch with a giant blanket, and was still fast asleep. You laughed at the image, and gently tousled his hair before making your way into the kitchen where you hear Jensen and Gen talking.

“How’s she been with it all?” Jensen asked quietly.

“I mean as best as you can expect someone who isn’t really apart of our kind of life to be.” Gen sighed.

“So not well?” he said sounding almost defeated.

“She’s strong Jensen. You and me both know that, but this? This is a lot. It’s going to effect a lot more than she would expect it to.” Gen paused. “Listen, I think we just need to find a way to get her out of this mess. Danneel took it a step too far, and I know your agent/ managers can clear the air. So the faster we do that, the faster Y/N will feel better and less scared to go out in public.”

“She’s scared to go out in public now?”

“Wouldn’t you be if the world saw you as a monster? I saw some text last night on her phone after she went to bed. I deleted them because of how harsh some of them were. People she hasn’t talked to in ages were texting and yelling at her for things that don’t even understand.”

“Shit.” Jensen mumbled.

“Yeah, but like I said. She’s strong and can get through this. We just need to be there for her, and get this fixed asap.”

“Ok. I-I…” there was  a pause from him. “I never wanted any of this to happen. She doesn’t deserve this.”

“No one does, but she has you to help her through it Jay. I say she has a pretty good chance of seeing a bright side at the end of this darkness.”

“Yeah…” he sighed not truly sure any of this was going to work out how he wanted. But hell, he was going to do everything in his power to try and make it right.

“Hey.” you said finally walking in making them both shoot their head toward you.

“Hey sweetheart.” Jensen said moving around the island to come hug you tight, and pull you into his chest.

“Hey Jay.” you said returning the much needed hug. “Are you going to tell me now why you’re here, and not in Vancouver?” you said once you pulled away and looked at his face. Your arms were still wrapped around his neck, and his around your waist.

“I think we both know the answer to that.” he said with a sad smirk as he looked down at you.

“You didn’t have to stop production for that. You could have called and we could have figured something out.”

“Not good enough for me.” he shook his head.

“Ok, then what now?” you said pulling away and fixing your sweater as you went to Shep to help him get plates for you all.

“I already talked to my manager, and she has a plan in motion.” he answered watching as he leaned against the counter.

Gen came over and took your spot helping Shep as they both stayed in the background as you and Jensen continued to discuss the problem.

“And that is?” you said coming over and leaning opposite of him to where you were facing each other.

“Something about shutting the rumors down, and calling Danneel out.”

“Ok, how do we know that will work though? Danneel could have something up her sleeve to prove us wrong, or make her the good guy once again.

“You haven’t met Jensen’s agents.” Gen laughed on the side lifting Shep on the counter. You raised an eyebrow at her and crossed your arms. “When De started all this at the beginning, Jensen had to up his management.”

“Yeah, my manager hired some help that deals with this kinda thing. Let’s just say that we have some dirt of Danneel that won’t make her seem so innocent. We haven’t threatened to use it before, but now… I think we have a pretty good reason.” Jensen explained.

“What make us any better than her if we threaten her?” you asked as Gen and Jens looked at each other confused. “Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to have to deal with bad publicity and people in my business accusing me of false accusations, but doesn’t threatening her make me just as much as a monster as she said I was.”

“You won’t be doing it Y/N/N-” Jay started.

You straightened from your spot and held up your hands.

“I don’t want to handle it that way.”

“What other way is there?” Jensen said in a raised tone clearly getting frustrated.

“So many other Jensen!” you shouted back.

“I’m going to leave you two to talk.” Gen said grabbing the pancakes and fruit moving to the living room with Shep. “Come on sweetheart.”

You both watched Gen walk out and waited until she was out of earshot. Jensen tried talking, but you cut him off.

“I do this for a living Jay. I see how people are struggling, and see where they are hurt. I see how they try to mask it and push it on others so they aren’t the only ones feeling the pain.”

“Danneel is different. She isn’t some elementary school kid that’s angry about about another kid pushing them on the playground. She’s here for blood. Nothing less.”

“You see it that way because you were hurt by her. I understand that-”

“No you don’t!” he shouted making you step back and raise your eyebrows. “Sorry.” he sighed seeing the surprise in your face. “It’s so much more complicated than you think Y/N. We can’t handle this like one of your students. This is a whole other world.” he said rubbing a hand down his face, and taking a step to you.

“I get that.”

“Do you?”

“I want to, and I’m trying to.”

“Then what do we do? What do you think will help this situation?” he said easing up a little and keeping eye contact.

“Not adding gasoline to the fire, that’s for sure.” you sighed. He gave you a blank stare not amused by your sass. He wanted to help how he knew how to, but you were being stubborn. “I want to talk to her.” you finally said causing his forehead to wrinkle and him give you a glare.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Since when did you become the boss of me?” you huffed moving to the fridge for a drink and to distance yourself a little. That only worked for a second cause he was by your side again in seconds.

“I’m not trying to be the boss. I’m trying to make sure you don’t get murdered.” he said sternly as you turned around with a carton of orange juice and practically smacked into his chest.

“You’re being overdramatic.”

“Am I?” he said following you to the cupboard. “Misha told me about the little run in you had with her, and said that it looked like if he wasn’t there, things were going to turn into a cat fight.”

“Nothing was going to happen.” you rolled your eyes as you went to pour the juice.

He grabbed the carton making you look at him now. He was serious.

“Look at me Y/N.” you turned your body and popped a hip out at his tone. “I don’t want this to get worse than it already is. I want to protect you from the crap part of my life. The part that doesn’t get privacy. The part that starts drama easily from one slip up. The part that can end up hurting us more than helping us.”

There was a pause as you both looked back and forth between each others eyes, and tried to get a read on each other.

“I don’t need protection Jensen. I can handle myself, and I want to handle it my way before we resort to bitter and evil ways that never tend to end well.” you said placing a hand on his bicep that was flexed in anger, and concern. “Let me try it my way.”

“I don’t know if that will work.” he all but whispered.

“Neither do I, but if we don’t try then this whole thing will only grow with hatred instead of understanding.”

You took a step closer seeing the hesitance in his face. Placing a hand on his cheek to calm him, he took a deep breath and leaned into it.

“You do trust me don’t you?” He nodded slowly. “Good. Then trust that I can handle myself, and I can handle what’s to come.”

He opened his eyes again, and looked at you with the smallest hint of a smile.

“How do you do that?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“Make me feel a thousand times better when I’m supposed to be helping you?”

“Cause I love you, and I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

“I don’t like seeing you hurt either. Yet, here we are. You helping me when you’re the one in all this mess.”

“You’re in it too. We are helping each other out.” you said wrapping your arms around his torso, and squeezing him close as you place your head on his chest.

He leaned down placing a kiss on top of your head and humming.

“You’re something else Y/L/N.”

“So are you Ackles.” you laughed. You pulled back to look at him. “We got this.”

“We got this.” he repeated before bending and kissing you passionately.

_______

Jensen said he was going to meet with his manager and agent while you went to talk with Danneel. He still wasn’t on board about it, but if you thought it was best, he wasn’t going to stop you. He thought it best to distract himself by going and coming up with a plan B if things still didn't go over well with her. He was determined to get you out of this situation even if he had to scream from the mountain tops his love for you, and everything you do to prove Danneel wrong.

You were able to get her address from Gen, and got dressed to approach your bully. You threw on some jeans, a old t-shirt, converse, and your yellow raincoat since it was a rainy day. Perfect for the mood of the day.

You hopped in the car, and about 20 minutes later you were at the house. You looked out your passenger side window as you parked on the curb and took a deep breath.

“No big deal. This is just like one of your other counseling sessions. You just need to figure out how to reason with her.” you sighed.

You grabbed your purse and threw it over your shoulder as you walked up the front walkway to the double doors of her house.

You took another deep breath, and shook out your nerves. You opened your eyes and switched from timid and nervous, to confident, and assertive. You knocked on the door loudly so that anyone in the house could hear you.

“One second!” you heard, and then the doors opened quickly. “Hel-You.” the red head said looking you up and down. “What are you doing here?”

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