#there were these teenagers hanging out there though and omg i wish i was them

[starved-vyka]

i was exploring this shopping centre and i went to the top floor cause i don’t usually go there but wtf is this

[riddlerosehearts]

i may have had my complaints about the way playful land ended but despite everything i DID still have a lot of fun with it. and i think my favorite thing about it, honestly, was that even though vil was only an SR card he still managed to be one of the stars of the show for me. him and ortho, both as individual characters and as a duo because i love their dynamic so much, were just awesome to me in this event. so now it's time for a lengthy list of specific things that i love:

this whole entire conversation LMAO. vil telling ortho that he's such an awesome actor he should easily be able to guilt trip idia into coming to playful land and ortho saying he was actually considering that 😭 and then ortho later telling vil that he'll be sure to have so much fun at playful land that the stories will make idia jealous. i love them so much i love that the whole situation of, you know, ortho taking part in ABDUCTING VIL AND TRYING TO RESET THE WHOLE WORLD resulted in them becoming clubmates and genuine friends.

the way ortho is always saying things like this that echo the advice vil originally gave him and idia in book 6

the fact that while vil very much proves during the event that he wasn't lying when he said he was wary of ernesto and wanted to protect his underclassmen, he can't deny that he does also genuinely want to go to playful land for his own reasons! because he is still just a teenager who wants a chance to have fun and see a cool amusement park! especially since later on we get THIS dialogue that just makes me incredibly sad because VIIIILLLLL WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU WERE TOO SWAMPED WITH WORK TO GO TO THEME PARKS BY THE TIME YOU WERE IN MIDDLE SCHOOL, YOU WERE STILL JUST A KID YOU DESERVED MORE TIME TO BE A KID!! :(

ortho thinking that he wouldn't get to have a special playful land outfit and then being so happy and excited when it turned out the magic worked on his gear. and also vil's first priority being to get a mirror so he could make sure his own outfit was up to his standards ASDKJGD.

the WHOLE section of vil, ortho, and the tweels hanging out and having fun together but especially just. ortho and the tweels being ridiculous kids arguing over who's better at destroying things with a toy slingshot, ortho getting mad because it's rigged to mess with his calculations and then threatening to literally blow the whole building up, and vil being the only reasonable person there.

and then the pool competition and how seriously they ALL took it but none of them ever stood a chance because ortho specifically was so insane about it that he didn't miss a single shot for almost the entire match and people crowded around just to watch him 😭 the way even vil starts to get mad because he isn't getting a chance to play?? and then ortho using the fact that he won to force all of them to take a goofy group photo in the face standees LMAO. god that's exactly the kind of thing i wish twst gave us CGs for.

also ortho being so excited to see the old toymaker's house, telling everyone about the clocks and the wish upon a star story and saying his favorite parts of the story are when the puppet first moves at the beginning and when he becomes a real boy at the end 🥺 i really wish playful land would've gone WAY harder on the ortho-pinocchio parallels and the idea of what it is that makes ortho himself a "real boy" but oh well...

vil being so levelheaded and mature when things are at their worst, trying his best to come up with a proper plan to save everyone, being the LAST person outside of the SSR trio to get captured and when he finally does it's entirely because he risked his own safety to protect ortho. how even then when ortho asks if he's okay his first priority is to say his face is unscathed ALKSDJGHDGJK god he's so funny. how he goes out calmly and gracefully while also MAKING A MULAN REFERENCE OMG???

ortho tricking the puppets by turning on all the noise-making toys he could find. ortho SAVING THE DAY AT THE VERY END BY DIVING UNDERWATER AND PROPELLING THAT ENTIRE TORN UP HALF-SUNKEN SHIP??

the way vil admires ortho's capabilities as an actor, trusts his skills and his judgement, dotes on him so much and seemingly just ADORES him 🥺

and finally, ortho literally being a robot yet somehow managing to be the funniest person alive

[soup-of-the-daisies]

for the character thingy, regulus!!

Hi!!! Thank you!!! ♥️

How I feel about this character:

Contrary to popular belief, I don’t actually dislike Regulus: I just need him to be written exactly the way I imagine him 😅

He’s a very interesting character to me. He’s not good, you know? He’s intensely morally grey and got cut down before he got the chance to truly grow or develop as a person (…character). He could’ve helped Dumbledore put the pieces together sooner in regards to the horcruxes. He’s a (dangerous) bigot obsessed with a radical terrorist political figure, but his big brother calls him “soft” and an “idiot”. He played the position of seeker. He painted the family’s house crest on his bedroom wall and stuck newspaper clippings about muggle murders and wizardly terrorists attacks on the other. It paints the picture of a teenage boy who slid down the far-right rabbit hole, is now dangerous, is now violent and hateful—but still a teenage boy at his core.

He’s funny too, in that way you sort of… laugh at schadenfreude. He wrote Voldemort a snarky note about how he knew about Voldemort’s dirty little secret and that he was going down, and then Voldemort didn’t notice or care. His death is one of the first to prompt a whole range of deaths in the Black family, almost like he accidentally prompted the fall and rot of the family. And also (as mentioned), he basically had a fancam twitter account of Lord fucking Voldemort. Then deemed him problematic (“he literally basically broke my mop AND dutch oven omg”) and tried to cancel him, before dying in the process. It’s almost hilarious.

For fics, I like it when he survives and ends up kidnapping Harry after lying low until the end of the war; I like it when he’s the grumpy ex-DE Astronomy teacher tasked with keeping an eye on his brother’s godson; and I like it when he follows Sirius and gets sorted into a different house than Slytherin, be it Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff. In a No Voldemort-AU, I like him as the snarky, dreadfully annoying, very embarrassing little brother who just sort of shows up all the time whenever Sirius and his mates hang out.

Who I ship romantically with this character:

Nobody! I HC him as aroace.

My non-romantic OTP for this character:

Barty Jr, I suppose! I like to think Barty was a Ravenclaw, but the ages seem to fit (as well as the near fanatical devotion). Possibly study-buddies while Regulus mainly moved in the same little gang of aspiring Death Eaters that Snape was a part of.

I do love his (destructive, hateful yet loving) relationship with Sirius, though. Both when it’s positive and when it’s negative.

My unpopular opinion for this character:

I think he wasn’t pushed into becoming a Death Eater by his parents. They had a (strong) hand in his radicalisation, but they didn’t encourage him to become one. Regulus and Bella were outliers: until Voldemort and his followers became too violent, the vast majority of them only wished to be political backing. Not followers… just like-minded fellows, if you will. Regulus’ idolisation of Voldemort and his subsequent loyalty to the cause were at most encouraged by Bellatrix and perhaps Lucius, and likely also by some friends at school, but he went into it on his own. He didn’t genuinely realise something about Voldemort was off (as in, Voldemort didn’t care about anything but himself) until he had to nurse Kreacher back to health—and it was more about the destruction of and lack of care about Regulus’ property he’d let Voldemort borrow in good faith, rather than a light-bulb moment about his ingrained bigotry. Had he lived, he would’ve been murdered before the end of the first war, or he would’ve been on the Lucius Malfoy-side of Wizengamot.

I also think he wasn’t the favourite son. The favoured son, yes, but not the favourite. Regardless, I believe he was loved still: Walburga going mad in self-imposed isolation, having turned childless; Orion loving him enough to either destroy himself after Regulus’ death or to get killed trying to figure out what happened; and Sirius growing dangerously desperate in his attempts to connect the pieces of any information he can find.

Something something the hunter (dog or man) finding the hide of the predator they respected beyond measure, and ruthlessly/recklessly taking on the poaching gang that kills for profit alone.

One thing I wish had happened with this character in canon:

Literally any more scenes of him other than the note, Sirius’ (biased and traumatised) perspective, and Kreacher’s (biased and traumatised) perspective. A portrait even, of a snarky, arrogant, bigoted boy who sneers at his brother for looking like their father, who refuses to speak to Hermione for being a muggleborn, who turns his nose up to the Weasleys for being blood-traitors, who seemingly tries his best to ignore Harry but keeps watching him when he thinks Harry isn’t paying attention. Or memories: how he was at Hogwarts and how he was at home, whether he was mean or kind, a foul-mouthed git or a shy opportunist. That would’ve been neat.

character breakdown

[laurapalmerz]

i find it a rather fascinating phenomenon on here to see people post pictures of laura smoking or doing cocaine or whatever and tag it as an aesthetic or as if that's them to some capacity. i don't have an issue with people who relate to laura and her struggles coping w/ her abuse, however, i draw the line at people downplaying what she's going through. she's a fictional character, yes, and people have called this out before, but genuinely it's bothersome to a certain degree. laura palmer is a victim of incestuous abuse at the hands of her aggressive and controlling father, which is represented in parts through the form of BOB or just leland. in order to cope w/ this abuse, she turns to alcohol, drugs and sex work with older men. there is no place in her mind where she believes she's a good person, that her best friend donna is only going to be corrupted the more they hang out, that the love she feels (or felt) for bobby was never real. she never believed in goodness for herself, only the pain she thought she deserved. it's an never ending downward spiral for her, one that the people of twin peaks actively witnessed, yet never tried to help her out of. her therapist participated in her abuse by having sex w/ her when he was meant to guide her toward a better outlook on herself and life. there were so many signs that pointed toward what was going on in the palmer household, many signs that screamed for help. no one listened. this character was crafted in such a careful way to show the audience just how terrible it is to go through abuse at such a young age, what the trauma does to someone's mental health, and what the extreme's of it can look like. laura's life was valuable, she was deserving of a loving partner, time with her best friend, and general activities that teenagers participate in. laura palmer was deserving of happiness. and yet, her father stole it away from her. so yes, if you can relate to her struggles, more power to you. i wish you well in healing. but using her in your coquette aesthetics demeans laura's character and reduces her to just another fictional girl who smokes, writes in her diary, drinks, has boy troubles, etc. "omg! she's SO me!!!" no she's not. i bet you a dime that those of you who are posting these aesthetics and mood boards haven't even touched a drop of alcohol a day in your lives. go do your homework and take a walk. laura deserves much better than your minimizing. though, this also applies to characters like shelly and audrey (ESPECIALLY audrey). don't think i don't see how y'all just completely wipe the slate on these complex characters and make them into nothing but a pretty face set to lana del ray music.

[superhero--imagines]

Part 12

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! / Part 11 Here!

* You stare at the blank ceiling, the smooth unblemished surface like freshly fallen snow

* you should really put some nudie posters up there or something to lighten the mood a little. 

* Light notes from the piano float around your room

* You sigh, so these are the facts as you know them:

* Edward is your best friend who has occasional bouts of brooding and flirtatious behavior.

* Bella is not albino, she has a lovely peach undertone, and a lovely grilled peach scent

* The entire coven has treated your attraction to this young lady’s blood like you got caught masturbating or wetting the bed or something

* “You don’t need to be embarrassed it’s a perfectly natural feeling.” Esme tells you while rubbing your shoulders

* “We’ve all been there” Rosalie reassures

* “Totally not a big deal, it happens to me everyday!” Jasper chimes in

* You wish sunlight hurt you so you could combust into flames on the spot

* The piano notes get louder, and you feel your mouth pinch into a frown.

* “Oh my god Edward! Read the room, I want brooding music!”

* Edward stops, up until then he had been playing a pretty cheerful Mozart piece

* You can tell he wants to ask why, you’ve been radiating joy non-stop since biology. But he decides against it

* “You really shouldn’t eat lying down.” He says as you sip blood while lying flat on your bed.

* “Okay dad.” You snort

* Edward starts to imagine what it would be like if you called him ‘daddy’

* All needy on top of him, your hands curled in fists against his chest, the breathy “daddy please” that leaves your mouth

* All of a sudden he’s ugly turned on

* “Ugh you’re no fun, I’m going to hang out with Rosalie”

* You leave the room and Edward has a total meltdown, is this what a kink is? Is he discovering a kink?!? At 100 years of age?!?!?!?

* Edward.exe is broken

* You don’t even make it to Rosalie’s room, you can smell them a mile away

* Broccoli, sugar and fat, and axe body spray. No peaches you realize with a sigh.

* They’ve only just barely rung the door bell when you open the door

* “Hey what are you guys doing here?”

* Jessica’s standing in front, looking pretty at ease, while Mike and Angela look equally uncomfortable.

* Makes sense, Jessica’s here all the time now either for homework or to watch TV.

* Mike and Angela haven’t been back since your sweet sixteen

* “How did you get down here so fast?”

* “I saw your car from upstairs” you say with a sheepish smile.

* You wish Alice would have given you a heads up, you weren’t planning on pretending to be human right now. Still you probably look raggedy enough right now in sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt

* You can probably pull this sick thing off

* “We just wanted to check up on you, I heard from Mike and Angela you got sick during class.” And then in a more annoyed tone Jessica adds “And I guess you’re too sick to respond to all my texts and calls”

* Oh crap, where is your phone.

* You pat your pockets, and think when you saw it last

* “I left it in my locker” you smack your head. You told Edward to go grab your bag from class but you forgot your phone.

* “Hey don’t worry about it, I can get it for you tomorrow if you want.” Jessica rushes to your side and pats your arm. You shake your head

* “No I can get it myself, I’m fine I just ate something bad.” You mumble.

* You’re not missing school tomorrow. You would literally risk murder to smell Bella again.

* It’s not insatiable thirst like described in the books, more like a craving, like someone might have for nachos.

* It itches at you for a while, but if you just distract yourself long enough you can move on

* “Would you like to come in? I think Esme just baked cookies or scones or something.”

* Esme likes to bake for the smell and donate the food to the local shelter. That, or take it for her employees at her architectural firm in town.

* Firm is a loose word, she has maybe four employees, and they get one job a month, but it seems to make her happy.

* Angela and Mike give each other looks but Jessica perks up

* “Is she making those delicious earl grey scones again?” You sniff the air

* “I think she made some of that orange zest butter too”

* “Omg I am so happy you left your phone at school” Jessica giggles walking inside past you, you hear her greet Esme with a squeal

* “They really are good.” You tell them and your remaining human friends enter the house carefully

* “Soooo where is everyone?” Mike asks taking a look around your living room.

* “Ummm Rosalie’s in the garage, Alice is probably meditating on the roof, Emmett’s at swim practice, and Jasper’s probably at the barn.”

* “What about Edward?” Angela asks before Mike can ask about the barn

* Last you saw him he was playing the piano in your room, but it’s been a while since then

* “He’s probably in his room monologuing about the degradation of the American dream or something.”

* You lead them into the kitchen where Esme and Jessica are already deep in conversation about the wonder of her baking

* “-side is so light and fluffy, how do you get the tea flavor though”

* “Witchcraft.” Esme jokes, giving a full smile before putting another tray in the oven. Only Jessica laughs, the other two are too nervous to even sit down

* “Why don’t I teach you how when you come over next week.”

* Yeah you’re pretty sure Jessica is really only a fan of the “eating” and not of the “baking”

* You’re half surprised when she seems happy at the invitation. 

* “Oh that sounds great, I can’t wait for it!” Jessica’s practically beaming

* Where’s Edward when you need him? You wonder what her motivations are. 

* Jasper is not going to like this. He’s already irritated enough that he’s kicked out of his own house every Friday when Jessica comes over to watch arrested development

* Before you can say anything to Esme the conversation moves forward

* “Did you guys hear about that security guard that died in Mason county?”

* She’s just making small talk, you know that. But you and Esme instantly tense at the mention

* Carlisle had mentioned he thought there was a nomad wandering through, they were still far enough not to cause the coven immediate trouble, but anything that brought more attention to them was a disadvantage

* “My Dad says he heard from Chief Swan it was probably a wild animal attack” Mike mumbles over a bite of scone, you figured he would be the easiest to win over with food

* You hide a smile behind your hand, he really is like a golden retriever

* “What kind of a wild animal climbs stairs into a building” Jessica mumbles over another bite of scone. And maybe to fit in, or maybe because she’s always been a nervous eater, Angela takes a bite too.

* “Oh wow, these are really good” she murmurs

* Esme Cullen ladies and gentleman, winning the hearts of teenagers with baked goods since 19XX

* “Well you kids stay safe, stay together if you can.” She pats your head and you nod.

* You don’t know the details of the attack, you get the feeling Carlisle still see’s you as a kid and he doesn’t want to burden you.

* But assuming the small changes that have happened have nothing to do with the large changes, that means Laurent, James and Victoria will be passing through soon.

* Maybe it’s for the best Bella doesn’t get involved with Edward until later.

* You’d really like to not get all mixed up in the whole “James Thing” if you can help it.

* “Are you staying for dinner? I’m thinking of whipping up some pasta, maybe a chicken?” Esme looks to you, yeah you have no idea how she’s going to manage that. Besides the baking basics there’s no actually food in this kitchen. And the one upstairs is just for your blood bags.

* “(Y/N), do you think...Carlisle would mind if we used one of... his chickens?”

* His chickens? The only chickens in the house-

* “No Esme! My chickens are only for love and chicken snuggles” and their blood which tastes very leans yet rich. “Not to eat!”

* “It would just be one-we’ll eat your least favorite!”

* You’re really hoping this is her way of chasing the humans out because she doesn’t want to cook.

* “No- oh my god- we’re going to the diner come on!” You say tugging Jessica and Angela to stand.

* “It was great seeing you again Mrs. Cullen, see you next week!” Jessica shouts as the three of them follow you out.

* “Going out? Is that such a good idea it’s late and a school night.” Edward says as he descends down the stairs

* “Oh my god, yes Dad I’ll be home before my curfew.” You say before leaving, cue Edward crumbling onto the stairs as he imagines you calling him “daddy” again

* “I’m going to hell, I’m definitely going to hell.” He mumbles, his face in his hand.

* It’s a really short drive to the diner, also known as the only place to eat in Forks in the mid 2000’s. 

*There’s not even a McDonald’s. It’s almost sad

* And when you get there, while everyone moves ahead to the table you see a familiar face.

* “Oh, Hey Bella”

* Your eyes met and you figured it would be rude not to say anything. It looks like she’s here having dinner with her Dad. 

*She really does look like her dad, same eyes, same cheekbones.

* “Nice to see you again Chief Swan”

* “Nice to see you too, how’s Carlisle doing? Heard it’s been busy at the hospital.”

* “Yeah, it’s like he doesn’t sleep anymore.” You grin at your own joke.

* “Are you feeling alright now?” Bella asks, she looks genuinely concerned

* “Yeah, I um, made some questionable food choices at lunch.”

* There’s an awkward moment of silence. You get the impression that Chief Swan and his daughter are both the “strong silent” types.

* It looks like they’ve both finished eating already

* If you had known she was going to be here you would have made Edward come with you. 

* “Oh hey, do you want to join us for dinner?” It just seems like the friendly thing to do for the new girl, something on-brand with human character

* Definitely not because if you get on her good side now, maybe she won’t kick you out once her and Edward get married. 

*Father and daughter exchange a glance and the familiar connection they have makes you nervous. 

*“Of course you don’t have to, I know you’re here with your dad so-“

* “I’m sure Bella would love to join-“ Charlie says at the same time Bella says:

* “Wouldn’t it be kind of weird since I already ate.”

* Ah, so they’re not as in sync as you thought. 

* You give your best “Golden Girl - You can totally trust me with your daughter” smile.

* “I’m actually not eating either,” you place a hand over your stomach like a human might. “The uh, Clam Linguine is still haunting me, so I’m sticking to broth and sprite.”

* Why did you say Clam? You don’t even eat meat, it’s how you’ve been getting away with eating so little at lunch. 

* “not a lot of vegetarian choices” You say to your human friends who nod solemnly. 

* Father and Daughter exchange another look likening telepathic communication and they both move to stand

* “I’m going to finish up some paperwork at the precinct, don’t stay out to late.” Charlie says, leaning down to kiss his daughter on the forehead

* You watch with warm eyes and a small smile twitching onto your lips

* Bella is so loved.

* You can’t believe she’s willing to break her dad’s heart just so she can be 19 forever.

* Which, as you are 19 forever, you can fairly say is overrated

* “Hey guys Bella’s joining us.”

* Your female friends offer her a polite smile, you see Angela gaze flick from the menu to Bella’s face. Silently calculating the worth of this opportunity

* Any intel on this new girl would be pretty valuable

* Same old Angela

* Mike sits up straight so fast that he actually knocks his silverware off the table.

* “H-hey Bella, Hi, w-what, what are you doing here?”

* “Eating.” Bella says it so bluntly that you can’t help but laugh.

* Mike flushes bright red and Jessica and Angela exchange a look before giggling.

* “I thought it would be cool if she came over since I didn’t get to talk to her much.” You take a seat next to Jessica and Bella follows by taking the last seat between you and Mike.

* You still catch whiffs of her scent her and there, especially when she’s sitting so close to you.

* But it’s not so bad, the peachy smell is making you a little lightheaded, but you can handle it.

* At least you’re not fantascizing about killing her and everyone in this room like a certain dork you know.

* “Do you guys want to do that promotion where we get the basket of fries for the table?” Jessica asks

* “I don’t like sharing fries with Mike he eats them all.” Angela mumbles

* Yeah you remember last time when after a football game the three of them actually sat down and divided the plate in three equal portions

* They even measured out each fry dividing up the extra long ones 

* “Says the person who basically eats ketchup with a spoon.” Mike retorts and Angela scoffs

* “It’s America’s best condiment for a reason Mike.” Angela snaps back

* “I think we’re getting off track, I say Mike buys us all french fries to make up for all the times he hogged the joint basket” Jessica’s teasing but Mike takes it seriously

* “What so I’m a French fry monster now?”

* “Yes” Both Angela and Jessica respond in unison without looking up from their menu cards

* “What do you think Bella?” You’re surprised that Jessica’s the one asking. You get the feeling she’s not very happy about Mike’s crush on Bella.

* “I think Mike should buy everyone their own basket since he has such a bad history with sharing.”

* “You traitor!” Mike mocks hurt and you all laugh.

* You look at Bella through the corner of your eye, maybe it’s just the lighting but she looks pinker when she’s laughing.

* She looks happy as she starts contributing to the conversation.

* “I will say the pie here is really good, I wouldn’t share even if someone paid me to.”

* “Omg yes, the cheery icebox pie is out of this world” Jessica responds

* “I’m partial to chess pie” Mike pipes in and Angela laughs

* “You guys are crazy, the fruit custard they make is the best”

* You grin as your four new friends argue about the superior dessert, watching Bella laugh beside you.

* Welcome to team human Bella

Tags:  @moonlights27 @thebluetint @the100thtwilight @awesomebooklover17 @oneofthepotterheads @smileygirl08 @imdoingathingmom @iconicgguk @yrawn @alyciaswhore @little-horror-show @wicked-watering-can @lazydreamers @xxxmuxxx @puritanicalhypocrite

[yenforfairytales]

All this Terry stuff has got me wondering: was Daniel his first actual student? Has Terry ever actually taught anyone before? Besides the training he and Kreese did with Barnes, there's a chance that Daniel was Terry's last student too. (Though him showing up in s4 with an army of students isn't actually that far fetched lol.)

Right? I've thought about that too. Because if Terry had any interest in teaching, you think he'd have joined Kreese in the dojo years ago.

And it might explain why he was so excited whenever Daniel made progress. It always feels good as a teacher when your student actually learns something. Not that Terry needs the ego trip lol, but his first time being a sensei was going pretty good. Y'know, besides the brutality and ulterior motive... I still think Terry was of two minds about the whole thing.

On the other hand, Terry seemed pretty comfortable in a teacher role. Like maybe he'd done it before. He does threaten at one point to teach Cobra Kai karate for free(👀). Other little hints like Terry being surprised that Daniel was a fast learner, compared to others he's trained maybe?

I wish we knew what he was thinking the first time he met Daniel in person. Like, 'Really? This tiny little lesbian beat Cobra Kai?' I mean that in the most loving way... Daniel is a smol but the biggest man in any room. Anyway

And Kreese didn't seem surprised either when Terry said he was going to become Daniel's new sensei. We know at some point Kreese taught Silver and eventually they start Cobra Kai together, possibly when they were still in the Army. So it's likely they could have taught other soldiers together.

The first time we see Terry he's sparring with these two dudes:

I always assumed they were Dennis and Snake. And that Terry trained them so they could be his punching bags sparring partners.

I don't want to know why Terry hangs out with teenage boys lmao. I've seen him described in articles as a playboy or womanizer and clearly those people did not watch the movie! Any dang way, it's not a stretch to think Terry trained Dennis and Snake since we saw them sparring and later fighting Daniel... although they weren't very good compared to Danny boy.

Omg, there's many reasons I'm excited for Season 4 of Cobra Kai but a big one is definitely what happened to Terry Silver after Karate Kid III.

Daniel very well could have been Terry's last student. He might have lost the taste for teaching and karate after that excruciating loss at the tournament.

I mean, can we talk real quick about Terry's plan to open TWENTY Cobra Kai dojos around the Valley?? I can't stop laughing. My mans really wanted Cobra Kai on every street corner. The Starbucks of Karate.

Obviously that plan went out the window. But I don't really get why? Why not try and open them anyway and see what happens? Guess we'll find out in s4. It's probably the simple answer.

But seriously I am DYING to know what happened to Terry. The last moment we see him in the movie is so abrupt??? He literally just... leaves...

LOSERS LOL

It's great. But leaves us with so many questions.

Am I reading into it or was Terry looking a little contrite with his hands clasped together? Maybe? Thinky thoughts. Probably upset he let his friend down, right? Disbelief that after weeks of a meticulously crafted plan and training Mike and money spent-- he still lost. To Daniel fucking Larusso. Oh, their reunion is going to be epic.

I'm kind of hoping we'll get flashbacks or more info about right after the '85 tournament. 👀

It's just so hard to believe that Terry left Daniel completely alone after that.

Who knows. But it's hilarious to think he just immediately left the building and ran to his limo to hide forever. A building he just bought and donated. They have to bring that up in the show right? How do you get banned from a building you bought. Iconic.

And you see the camera flashes during that scene? I like to think Daniel has a picture of this moment hanging on his wall:

Ahh, memories.

He probably doesn't because Trauma but you never know.

Hopefully Season 4 answers all these things. I think you're right about Terry bringing in new students though.

The best money can buy

As he slowly takes over Cobra Kai and edges Kreese out... 🐍

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of wildfire relief, @jesusonthetortillas​ donated $10, and requested pre-series pining!Sam, with diary discovery. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

After his little lesson from Sabrina, the hot librarian's assistant, it's not hard at all for Dean to find what he's looking for. He drops Sam off at the library the way he usually does, and flirts with Sabrina on his way out like he usually does, but instead of going to his shift at the construction site like Sam thinks he's going to, he circles back around, through the library stacks on the main floor, and waits like a dingus by YOUNG ADULT – ADVENTURE, watching the back of Sam's nerdy, nerdy head where he's hunched at the computer banks, getting up to no kind of good.

It wouldn't have come to this, Dean thinks, if Sam weren't so—he doesn't even know how to think about it. He doesn't know when to pin it down. They were doing okay. Sam ran away, a few years back, but since then he's—well, he's always bitching at Dad and bitching at Dean half the time too, but he's done good in school, he's done his part with the hunting. It was sometime at that last school. September in Maryland. Dad was gone a lot of the time, because Dad always was, and Dean went with him on about half the hunts but Sam got to stay behind, got to just call in research tips and last-minute lore checks, and Dean thought he was pretty happy, as much as Sam ever seemed happy. Chill, just doing his homework at the rickety desk, not complaining any more than usual about Dean's usual dinners of fast food or Kraft or Top Ramen. Seventeen and getting tall and mellowing out, and finally hanging out with his little brother was just fine. Dean thought.

That was two towns ago, three months ago. Dean picks his nails with his pocket knife, leaning on one elbow by the Hardy Boys. Sam's still working away on the computer. Anymore he always is. After school he's always angling for Dean to bring him to the library and if Dean won't drive him then Sam walks, even when it's raining, like it is half the time in frickin Washington, anyway. Always finding a free computer and settling in and disappearing onto the internet. Not coming home until the library closes, and moody if Dean's there when he walks in, and Dean just—he thought they were past all this crap. He thought that maybe Sam had—settled. Figured out how things were, how things had to be.

Well. Either way. Sabrina, with the glasses and the sexy dreads and the legs that very much went all the way to the floor under those wide-legged pants she was always wearing—she gave Dean a computer lesson, free of charge, and he's got a way in, now. Sam won't talk to him, won't hardly look at him. Dean chews the inside of his cheek, watching Sam type on the battered public machine. Sam's not the only one who knows how to research a case, in this family. Dean's going to figure this out. He's gonna fix it.

A bell rings, at five o'clock, like the end of a school day. Sam jerks like he's been shocked and looks up at the ceiling, clearly annoyed. He's been engrossed for two hours, typing away, reading. Real frickin' boring, on Dean's end, but he stayed put. Like staking out a house for a job—nothing to do but wait. He takes a few steps backwards, makes sure the shelves hide his face, and there's a general rustling as people leave—a mom and her kid, and tears because the kid's favorite book wasn't here—and when Dean looks again the computer banks are empty, and Sabrina's checking out the last few patrons, and Sam's—gone. Walking home in the rain, little goth that he is. Fine with Dean, if it gives him a few minutes.

When he settles into the chair Sam was in it's still warm. He opens up Netscape Navigator, the library's homepage welcoming him in a friendly kinda way—big yellow smiley face, that's fun. He goes to where Sabrina taught him, in the menu at the top: view, and then History, where it turns out the computer saves all the webpages you went to just in case you need to find them again, and there—oh, jackpot. Gotcha, Sam.

All kinds of crap. A weather website, a bunch of Ask Jeeves searches, something called DiffEQandU. Some mythology stuff, too, and Dean goes to one that turns out to be a history of kitsune. That's something, at least—Sam doing his important homework, in there with whatever other crap he's been working on.

The last bunch of results are all pages from some website called Livejournal, which Dean's never heard of. He clicks one at random and is brought to—huh. A splashy red page, with a big picture on top of kids graduating from high school in those dorky blue robes. He scrolls down, skimming, looking for the important details among the mess, but it's hard to tell what it is. A forum, it looks like. Kind of like the ones Dean's been on where people trade car parts, or swap ghost stories. A square box, dated yesterday, that says WHEN IS HARVARD'S APP REVIEW???, and a panicky paragraph where some chick might die if she doesn't get in. Another, the day before, with questions about the SAT, and a link that says 43 comments that, when Dean clicks it, brings him to a bunch of apparently teenagers all giving each other tips from some test they're worried about taking.

College. Dean's stomach curls into a knot. It's all—college stuff, applications and tests and deadlines. The usernames are all weird shit: tmntpizzadelivery, quistis4ever, willyshakes. Dean can't tell—is one of these kids Sam?

Sabrina's nearly done with her line of book nerds. Dean rubs a hand over his mouth and clicks away, tries another of the Livejournal results in the history. Another forum, this one apparently about—soccer? Jesus, Sam. Another forum, this one about Conan the Barbarian, and that one's at least easy to snort at, with people's shitty drawings of Red Sonja and excitement about a possible remake. There are personal pages, though, too—one titled Delaware Sucks, in which some girl complains about her life—one titled trent reznor rules my soul, featuring a goth kid who won't shut up about Nine Inch Nails and his bitch of a mother. Another, with a plain blue-and-grey color scheme, with the title on the road, and a new post from today—from an hour ago—with the text just reading, I don't know what to do anymore, and six comments underneath, waiting.

"Hey—ready to go?" Sabrina says.

Dean jerks in his seat. Sabrina's raising her eyebrows at him, behind her glasses, a little smile curving her mouth that promises something a little better than book dust and computer lessons. "I'm always ready," Dean says, grinning, and gets her to roll her eyes—yeah, he's in there—but his eyes drag back to the webpage, the posts. He scrolls down, quick—post after post, waiting to be read. "Real quick—borrow a pen?"

She has one—she's a sexy librarian, of course she has one—and he uncrumples a receipt from his jacket pocket and writes down the URL, careful to get it right. rearviewmirror.livejournal.com. He wants to click on the comments, but.

"Come on, the movie's starting soon," Sabrina says, and Dean closes Netscape, folds the receipt very carefully into his pocket, stands up. He's got a date to make out with a hot chick in the back of a movie theater, and maybe a little more, and Sam's whole Eeyore routine has to take a number. Dean will figure it out. He's got an easy way to run a stakeout, now.

*

December 4

Still can't decide. Anyone else going through this?

current mood: agonized current music: motorhead (AGAIN)

Comments:

teenagehamburger: Yes!! I still don't know where I want to go. Mom wants me to stay close to home, but Delaware sucksssss. Where are you looking?

       rearviewmirror: Anywhere. TBH I'm still not even sure I should apply.

               teenagehamburger: WTF?? Of course you should!! College is the big escape, remember?

 December 1

He's driving me INSANE

current mood: annoyed current music: motorhead (again)

Comments:

bloodofreptile: lol you got it bad

       rearviewmirror: right now I just want to hit him with a brick, actually

teenagehamburger: LOL!! Sorry :(  :(

       rearviewmirror: Sigh. I guess it could be worse, right?

             teenagehamburger: Definitely!! He could be the cute cheerleader from 4th period who doesn't know I exist….

                     coppertonebuttgirl: oh, sorry hammie, that sucks <3

 November 29

The thing is, I don't even want anything crazy? I just want to be—me. Just me, without anyone breathing down my neck. Trig teacher says I could get in to one of the top ten, but I just want to go *anywhere that's not here*

current mood: restless current music: Pearl Jam (home alone!)

Comments:

bloodofreptile: i hear you lol. why don't they get that the rules and hovering and all that shit just makes us want to run faster?

    rearviewmirror: Exactly! My teacher keeps talking about college like it's a place to expand your mind and stuff, and that's fine, but lately I just want to expand my horizons. Kind of ironic?

         bloodofreptile: yeah lol haven't you lived like everywhere?

               rearviewmirror: Feels like it.

teenagehamburger: Is You Know Who going to college too?

 November 18

I feel like it shouldn't be this hard. Normal people have it easy.

current mood: indescribable current music: silence

Comments:

coppertonebuttgirl: feel free to talk to me anytime <3

 November 3

Dad's gone again. Didn't say goodbye. We went to the movies and he gave me a beer, and we watched the stars for an hour in the parking lot even though it was freaking freezing. Happier than I've been in a while. Don’t want it to change but it has to change.

current mood: current music:

Comments:

teenagehamburger: OMG, that sounds so romantic?? I can't believe you were drinking!! Aren't you underage?

     bloodofreptile: lol relax it's not a big deal

           teenagehamburger: I'm just saying!!

coppertonebuttgirl: wish it wasn't hard for you <3

bloodofreptile: dude you've got to say something

     rearviewmirror: I literally can't.

          bloodofreptile: ok but it's gonna drive you crazy. do you even know if he's gay? start with that maybe

*

The posts go on, and on. Reading backwards through time, it's a strange piecing-together. rearviewmirror is active in about ten communities and Dean reads through all of them, that week, bringing an illicit cup of coffee in to the library when he doesn't have a construction shift. He reads with his hand over his mouth and by the time he has to get off the computer he's got a headache, every time, his throat dry and aching.

The journal's been active for six months. Dean clicks through the pages to the very start and reads it in the right order, his heart pounding oddly in his ears. I don't know what this place is. A journal, I guess, considering the name. I just need somewhere to talk where no one will listen.

It's not a pouring-out, like some teenage girl doodling hearts around her crush's initials. He holds back. Never says exactly where they're living, never mentions names. To figure out who it was, you'd have to be one of two other people, and Dean knows that Dad can barely turn on a computer, much less go onto the internet and pore over some teenage angst-fest. Dean spends half his time wishing he were the same. Maybe if he hadn't asked Sabrina for help.

At home, Sam's the same as he always is. Comes home after his own stint at the library, eats the dinner Dean gives him. He reads, most of the time. Does his schoolwork. Dean says, careful one night, "Hey, True Lies is on. Wanna watch?" but Sam only gives him a strange, uncertain look and says, "No, I have a paper due," and he shuts himself into their bedroom with the door very firmly closed, and Dean sits there on the couch alone with a beer and Jamie Lee Curtis being sexy as hell on the fuzzy TV, and he—he doesn't know what to do.

He remembers that day, the looking at the stars day. It was November 2. A nasty anniversary, in their family, and yeah, Dad left. Dean got it. He'd thought Sam did, too, by now. It was better to have Dad gone, on a hunt, than trying to drink himself to death at home in the apartment. At least he was working, that way, and not hurting himself. To distract both of them, Dean picked Sam up from the library and they went straight to the movie theater—the Blair Witch sequel, with Dean providing running commentary about how dumb they were about dealing with ghosts, which at least made Sam grin and elbow him to shut up, even if he was laughing too, the liar—and, yeah, afterward they'd picked up Taco Bell, and then after that Dean swung through the liquor store drive-thru and they parked out, and he let Sam have a beer, and they both sat on the trunk and leaned back against the cold glass or the rear window and didn't really talk, much. The stars, big above them. The night, quiet. Sam was pressed against his side, chilled out and not bitching about anything, and Dean tucked his hand behind his head and he was pretty content with the world, right then. His brother, here, and a six-pack waiting, and nothing happening right then that'd hurt them. Sam smiled at him, that night, before he went to bed. It was sweet—like he used to be, when he was little—and Dean had ended up falling asleep on the couch, watching the public access, but his dreams that night were—good, like they never were on the night of November 2, and it had felt… okay.

do you even know if he's gay?

The college prep—that wasn't a surprise. It hurt but it didn't shock. All his worrying, all his whining, wanting to be 'free'—whatever free meant—it was all part and parcel of the last decade. Dean should've known better. Sam wasn't mellowing out. Sam was a stubborn little shit and he'd always wanted to have a life that wasn't—this.

The gay thing. That hit different. One of the communities Sam followed was for lesbian and gay youth, talking about their coming out experiences. Sam didn't post there much but he commented, asked questions. How do you know? What does it feel like? The hamburger girl was from there, a lesbian chick trapped in some Delaware high school. Encouraging, commiserating. They talked about how college would be their big escape, their chance to go to a big city and find their way. Meet people. Only apparently hamburger girl was crushing on the cheerleader from fourth period, and Sam—

Dean makes an excuse the next day. Saturday: no work for Dean, no school for Sam. Alone in the apartment together, all day, after Dean's week of reading—he can't face it. "Where are you going?" Sam asks, eight a.m. with his hair fucked up and coffee clenched between his hands, and Dean looks at him in his pajama pants and his ratty hand-me-down shirt, skinny and tall and hiding things Dean can't handle, and he says, snappish in a way he doesn't mean to be—"Out, Sam, for christ's sake—" and sees Sam's expression shutter before the apartment door slams behind him.

He goes for a drive, out of town. Cold, threatening rain like it always is, but it won't snow. Out—past the airport, past the suburbs, out to Black Lake. They killed the nymph that was drowning people out here, him and Dad, when they first arrived. Sam stayed home. Sullen on the other end of the line when Dean called to say they'd finished the job, and they were getting burgers for dinner, and did Sam want one. Whatever, Sam had said, like even answering was an imposition. That was November, too.

He sits on the hood, heels braced on the bumper, arms locked around his knees. The lake looks cold. He wants to sink into it, wants to feel that freezing shock, like the polar bear dive he did on a dare back in Illinois. The way the brain just goes blank, tv-static filling up everything and washing all the shit away. All the weird crap you don't want to think about, frozen, and the only thing to focus on just—getting out.

He's not going to dive into the lake. It's nine in the morning and he's wearing his only pair of boots. He hasn't gone out with Sabrina all week. He's been piss-poor at the construction site and McMillan nearly brained him with a hammer yesterday, because Dean wasn't paying attention, and the foreman screamed at him in front of the whole crew. None of that feels close, right now. He breathes the wet-clogged air, cold and mossy, turning his ring restlessly on his finger.

Back at that high school they went to in Raton, Mrs. Encinas in 6th period English told Dean he'd be smart, if he didn't just give up all the time. All he needed to do was take the time to read between the lines, to actually interpret what he was reading and not take things on face value. He made some joke. He doesn't remember what it was, now. Like he didn't know what the fuckin Great Gatsby was saying, when he hoped and hoped and never got what he wanted. When happiness always felt like it was about a thousand miles away, on the other side of a lake he couldn't cross, and hope went out like a snuffed light. Dean can read what's not there. He's done it his whole life.

The problem: Sam's little online journal went back six months. They've lived in four towns, in that time. He never uses names, never puts up anything that'd really identify him. They were in Maryland, August-September-first of October, and it was a comment right at the end of August, on the community for gay kids, talking to the hamburger girl: I like someone, too. He doesn't know. He. The same he that carried forward, through all his journal entries, from Maryland to Washington across whole breadth of the country. He likes classic rock. He drives me nuts. He gave me a beer, and I wanted—

Dean curls forward over his knees, sliding his hands into his hair, breathing hard between his knees. He can read between the lines and he wishes that he couldn't. He wishes—god. What? That Sam would just meet a nice girl and fuck her and get it out of his system? Except how he was writing, it wasn't like it was new. It was something he'd been thinking about. When did you know? had read one of the forum posts, and in the responses, among all the dumb teenage crap about formal dances and jerking off to the wrong person in the music video, there was a comment by username rearviewmirror that said, I broke my leg and he carried me to the car and I wanted to kiss him.

Sam broke his leg in July, the summer he turned fifteen. He'd been trying to stay quiet but he'd had this trapped whimper in his throat that he couldn't stop, and Dad had stayed behind to cover their backs and it had been left to Dean, to scoop Sam up, his whole body quivering with the shock—to hug him close between the trees, humid Georgia night making every place their skin touched slick with sweat—to let Sam cling to his neck, shuddering, and to put a hand on his back and whisper, hey, Sammy, it's not even that bad, huh? no bone sticking out, you did good. we're gonna get you a cast and I'm gonna draw you a great picture, okay, Cindy Crawford with her tits out, right there on your shin and Sam had been so shaky that his laugh sounded like he was crying, but he'd nodded against Dean's neck and chattered out sounds cool, Dean, and when Dean got him to the car Sam hadn't wanted to let him go—so they crawled into the backseat together, Sam still half in his lap and with his arms still tight around Dean's neck. Dad got into the front and frowned at Dean in the rearview, and Dean nodded, and when the car leapt forward Sam gasped and gripped at Dean's shirt when his leg got jostled, and Dean put his hand in Sam's hair and said, it's okay, you're okay, and Sam—wanted to kiss him.

He can't square it. It's like there's some twinned version of his brother, in this place Dean never knew existed. All these secrets he's been hoarding, this other person he's been. These wants that make him a stranger.

He goes back home with stuff for lunch around noon. Sam's reading, in the bedroom. "Got pb&j or grilled cheese," Dean calls, down the shotgun kitchen through the thin-carpeted hall, and Sam calls back, "I'm not hungry," which is a goddamn shit of a lie. He grows like an inch a day, he's never not hungry. Dean braces his hands on the counter and counts to five, in his head. He puts the bread away, and puts the cheese in the fridge. He goes into the living room and turns on the TV and it's college football, which is boring as hell, but it fills the apartment with noise. He wishes Dad were home. He wishes he were hunting.

The Huskies lose. Sam hasn't come out of the room, as far as Dean can tell. He's had—four beers? He looks at the table. Five. It's getting toward dark and it's raining, a-fucking-gain, and Dean's still wearing his jacket and his boots and his ears are cold, because the heater in here sucks, and he's shredded the label of the beer everywhere, everywhere. He brushes it off his knees and that just means it's gonna get ground into the shit-brown carpet, but—who cares. He's got other things on his mind.

He gets the last beer out of the fridge. Should've bought more. "Got some spare cash," he says, to the dark hall. There's a halo of light around the half-closed bedroom door. "Thinking pizza for dinner."

Silence.

Dean pushes the beer bottle against his forehead. "C'mon, Sam. It's not going to kill you to prefer pepperoni or sausage. Just say something."

"Doesn't matter," is the response.

Dean squeezes his eyes closed, slams the bottle down to the counter. It's four steps to the bedroom and the door flies open under his palm. "Just fucking say," Dean says, and Sam's looking at him with big eyes, curled up on the twin bed with his back up against the wall, books spread open all around him. Homework, of course. "Just say it, okay? What do you want?"

Sam stares at him. "I don't care! Get—whatever, pepperoni. Jeez, what's up with you?"

"Sure you don't want sausage?" Dean says, kind of nasty, and Sam frowns, shakes his head. Goddamn it. Dean drags a hand over his face, sags against the door frame. He's—a little dizzy. Oh—okay, so maybe he should've eaten, sometime since this morning. "Damn it, Sam," he says, his stomach twinging.

"What?" Give him this—maybe he's sneaking around, maybe he's lying about half his life, but Sam doesn't shrink back from an argument. He's still in his pajamas. He shoves his notebook away, lifts his chin. "What?"

"Been doing some reading," Dean says, and watches Sam's face scrunch disbelievingly. "Rearviewmirror? You don't even like cars."

It's weirdly satisfying to watch Sam blanch. He's been so unaffected the last little while it's almost a relief to get a real reaction. His mouth parts, his eyes go big. He stares at Dean in total silence except the rain drumming on the roof, and then he says, "That's—private."

"Not that private," Dean says. "You're putting shit on the internet for any asshole to read, Sam. It's not a pretty princess diary with a sparkly lock."

Sam's face is white. He licks his lips, his back rigid against the wall. "How did you—you never—"

"I know how to use a friggin computer," Dean says, and watches Sam close his eyes. "So? Got a lot to say to a bunch of strangers. Might as well say it to me. I mean, I'm your brother, right? Family."

It comes out hard but his voice cracks, on the last word. He swallows and some of the anger dissipates. Sam's jaw flexes and he tucks his hands behind his neck and his knees drag in, like defense. Like he needs defense. Against Dean. Like it's Dean who's wrecking things.

Dean's legs go out from under him. He sits down. Right there, in the doorway to the bedroom, the frame hard against his spine. The rain's loud and he doesn't—what is there to say? "You should've told me."

That's really it. Sam looks at him. Disbelief. "How?" he says, and Dean tips his head back against the wall, looks at the popcorn ceiling, says, "I don't know, it's not my damn secret. But you should've."

"Yeah, that would've gone great," Sam says, sarcastic.

Silence. The rain. Dean drags his hand over his face again, clears his throat. "So. You're—queer." For some reason it seems like the simplest thing to start with.

Sam snorts. "I'm not, like, jerking off to JC Chasez," he says, bitter.

"Who?" Dean says, but shakes his head. "God, whatever. Jesus, Sam, I can't—don't talk about you jerking off. You're not—you don't date chicks, either. Ever. So you're—"

"I don't know," Sam says. Kind of firm. Dean closes his eyes to not look at him. "I don't know, okay? But that's not what—" Pause, while he drags in a breath that's audible across the room. Dean curls over, his forehead between his knees. It's too big to hear. Sam blows out air. "You read the whole thing?"

Frail. Cobweb soft, like if Dean breathed too hard it'd break. Dean folds his hands over his head. "I read the whole thing," he says.

"Don't—" Sam says, quick, and cuts himself off. Dean can't stand it—he looks, peeking up, and Sam's made himself small, there at the head of the bed. His mouth is small, his lips between his teeth—his eyes, big and scared. "Dean. I wouldn't—I swear. I wouldn't—"

"Kiss me?" Sam flinches like from a raised fist, when Dean's all the way over here. Dean licks his lips, dropping his hands so they dangle useless between his knees. "Or, what. Leave? Either way it's pretty fucked up, for me, Sam."

"Oh my god," Sam says, very quietly, and—christ. Looks like he's gonna cry.

"Sam," Dean says, and no matter how pissed he is, that's not—Sam fights back. Sam always fights back, he's frickin' annoying that way. He's not supposed to crack like this. Dean rolls up to his knees and Sam's looking away, neck craned unnaturally so that his face is pointed at the broken-blind-covered window so that Dean can't see, but Dean can—Dean can see his teeth so hard in his lip that the skin there's white, and his chest shaky, and his fist clenched in the thin fabric of his pajama bottoms, and, and—"Sammy," Dean says, again, and Sam's eyes close and there is—shit, shit, a tear, running fast out of the corner of his eye, streaking down his cheek so quick that if Dean could blink he might've missed it.

Dean's gut hurts, like he took a punch from a werewolf and he's gonna be bruised for the next three weeks. He doesn't have anything to say to make it better, not when it's this screwed up. This isn't Sam bitching about Dad or whining about crossbow practice or pouting about a move. Sam's been thinking about this for two years and he's managed to talk about it with people, online at least. Dean's coming at it with a week's slow raw realization and he doesn't know how to make it—not how it is.

He gets over to the bed, on his knees. Sam won't look at him, like the view of nothing through the blinds is the most fascinating thing in the world. There's a wet shining trail, down his cheek to his jaw. A damp circle on his t-shirt. Dean says, because he can't think of what else to say, "You really—you want—" and even then, can't articulate it. A kiss. Sex. A kind of close they've never been. He says, slower, "Is that why you want to go?"

Sam drags in air. Sounds like it hurts.

Dean drags his teeth over his lip. There are books all over the bed. He pushes them away, and Sam's notebook. He pushes up—knee on the mattress, and sinking down to his hip, and Sam's close enough to touch, now, and he jerks and looks at Dean like he's an alien. A ghost. Something that can't be real, only they both know that it is. Dean touches Sam's hand, fisted there in his pants, and Sam jerks again, his stiff shoulders back against the wall, and he shoves Dean's hand but no matter the crazy growth spurt Sam's been having Dean's still stronger, still has the reach—he grips Sam's wrist and yanks, gets him off balance, and then he's right inside Sam's grapple and has his hand flat on Sam's chest, pressing him harder against the paint, and Sam stares at him wild-eyed with his breath both fast and deep and Dean leans forward and presses their mouths together. It's a bad kiss—he barely hits on center, and Sam freezes—but there's the touch of warmth, Sam's lips—soft—and the shocked air hitting Dean's face—and Dean drags in breath through his nose and resettles, fits his mouth to Sam's soft open lower lip and makes it better, his head tipping, easy pressure there, just the faintest amount of suction so that when he pulls back a millimeter there's a little smooch sound, and that makes it—real.

He kissed his little brother. No getting around that. No pretending. His nose brushes Sam's cheek and Sam's not really breathing, and Dean—fuck, Dean does it again, pressing in and letting Sam's wrist go so that he can get a hand on Sam's jaw, tipping him so it's good. Sam makes a tiny noise and breathes out hard against his mouth, and when Dean kisses him for a third time Sam meets it, his lips moving finally out of that still shock, his fingertips brushing Dean's arm all careful, his heart pounding under Dean's hand.

Dean pulls back. An inch between them—not enough but all Dean can seem to manage. He swallows. His lips are tingling, and his eyes are closed and he doesn't want to open them, and his fingers—jesus, he's got them tangled in Sam's hair like Sam's some easy hot chick he's picked up at a dive bar, pressing her up against the wall in the bathroom hallway, knowing how the night's going to end.

"We can't," Sam says. Sam. His voice, steady and familiar. "We—Dean. This isn't—"

"No," Dean says, god knows why. He pulls back, though—pulls his hand out of Sam's hair, stands up. His legs wobble for a second. He has to open his eyes and so he drags in a breath and does, and Sam's sitting there with his shoulders high and tight and his hands fisted on his knees and his hair a little fluffed on one side, a little screwy. His mouth parted and his eyes—fixed on Dean's face, looking all over it. Like he's memorizing a trail map, for an unknown stretch of land.

"I'm drunk," Dean says. It's not true. Five beers—he's buzzed but he knows what he's doing. Sam doesn't contradict the lie. "Acting nuts. Sorry, Sam. I—"

"I want pepperoni," Sam says. His face isn't white anymore. He's flushed, dark pink in the hollows of his cheeks. His eyes are dark, wide and fixed on Dean, and there's still that shining trail on his cheek but it's drying. "Order from that place on Melrose. Garlic knots, too."

Dean backs up a step, pins on a smile. "What, you think I'm dumb? Like I wouldn't get knots," he says, and Sam doesn't smile but he nods, brief and fast like Dean's picking up a play in some con they're running, and Dean snaps a finger-gun at Sam—fuck, what is he doing—and turns out of the room, says—"Okay, dinner in thirty minutes or less or your money back!" and walks through the kitchen and out into the living room and out the front door, and closes it behind himself, and leans against it and stares blindly out into the rain, the setting sun still sparking some tiny golden bit of light out to the west, past the horizon.

He licks his lips and tastes salt, not his own. Sam's hand, on his arm—skimming, brushing light through the thickness of his jacket. Like he wasn't sure he'd be allowed to really touch. He drags in the rain-soaked air. He'll drive, to get the pizza. He'll drive, and he'll give Sam time. When he gets back he'll offer Sam half the pie and a beer, and there'll be some movie on TV that Sam probably won't want to watch, but maybe he will. They'll be—brothers. Dean knows how to do that. It feels like it's all he's got left.

*

It's—not easy but it's not all that hard, either. There's a brutal week where Dean's torn between walking on eggshells and wanting to wrestle Sam to the ground, and Sam goes perfectly silent—not pouty withdrawal or furious silent-treatment, but as still and quiet as though he's not even there. Dean can't bear it. It takes Dad coming home to break it—Dad, and christ, when he calls to say he's coming back Dean completely freezes and his mind fills up with—with—but then Sam looks at him and takes the phone out of his hand and says, his mouth's full—what's up? and after that it's like things… settle. It's not okay but it's livable.

rearviewmirror.livejournal.com goes quiet. Dean checks, occasionally, over the months that pass. When he's looking up some random piece of lore for Dad, when they're hunting alone and Sam's stuck back at whatever shitty hotel they stored him at, and Dean's on research duty because Sam's in high school and can't answer his phone. Dean types in the address and checks, and it's still that last post. Anyone else going through this? He hopes, sincerely, not. It's too fucked up for anyone else to bear. At least the Winchesters have practice.

They run PT. Sam does his homework. Dean watches TV. Hunting focuses things. There's stuff to kill and people to save and things aren't falling apart any more than they ever are, so—Dean deals.

Sam leaves.

*

It's January. Dean's in a library, alone. Dad's working a job north of Boise and he sent Dean down to Wendover to take care of a haunting, and Dean's done and Dad called and said two more days and there's this raw wounded spot where Dean should be able to turn, to look over his left shoulder and say—but it's empty there, and so he's in a library.

Sam started posting again, when he got to school. Small stuff. That he was sorry for the long break. That he'd ended up at a university after all. The hamburger girl doesn't respond anymore but the Nine Inch Nails boy does: thought you were dead, he says, no-caps like he's so goddamn cool, and Sam says, Just working some stuff out.

Sam likes his professors. He plays pick-up soccer with some of the guys from his dorm. His roommate snores. He doesn't listen to music at all. There's nothing—real. There's none of the sadboy shit, nothing about what he's feeling, no pondering of what it all means. He picks up a few different Livejournal friends, clearly people from his classes, who crack jokes about Ancient Civ and Linear Algebra. He joins a community focused around civil rights litigation. He might as well not be there.

Dean reads it all. If Sam's not calling then Dean's gonna check in whatever way he can. When Sam left Dean made sure he had at least one good knife in his bag and he said don't forget the salt when Sam hiked his backpack onto his shoulder, and Sam snorted and looked at him like a gunshot but he nodded, and Sam's not dumb, he knows how to take care of himself, but. Dean's the big brother, here. He's within his rights, to check and make sure baby bro's not being a dumbass.

January and it's fuckin cold, in Wendover, but the library's too warm. Dean keeps his coat on anyway, scrolling through the comms. He's kinda turning into an expert, navigating the pages, recognizing the shorthand. He hasn't made an account. Doesn't know why he would. He finishes his scan of the comms Sam's part of and doesn't really see any relevant posts, and no comments from rearviewmirror that he can find. He chews his cheek and goes back to the main page, thinking—okay, he can get out of here. Beer and dinner, and finding a motel that doesn't look toxic, and waiting for Dad to call. Not the worst night he could have. He refreshes, one last time, just in case, and there's a new post. He reads:

January 23

Done with class for the week. Feeling restless.

current mood: current music:

Comments:

lawblog69: we should go out!!

bloodofreptile: go get laid

Dean snorts. At least the NIN kid is consistent. He refreshes again and there's a new comment.

bloodofreptile: go get laid

    rearviewmirror: Not really in the cards.

He takes a breath, sitting there at the computer bank. It's quiet in here—the good people of Wendover aren't much for the library, apparently—but he feels like someone's right there. Like he could reach out and touch, when it's just words on a glowing screen. Still—the speed of the comment—Sam's… sitting there. Right now, on a computer in Palo Alto, looking at the same thing Dean is.

He refreshes.

bloodofreptile: go get laid

    rearviewmirror: Not really in the cards.

        bloodofreptile: still holding onto that? very hufflepuff. how long has it been?

              rearviewmirror: my whole life

Dean presses his knuckles to his lips, hard enough that he can feel his teeth pressing back. Jesus, Sam. He refreshes—another comment, from coppertonebuttgirl, agreeing about the restlessness but apparently she's off to a date with her boyfriend, and Sam responds and says sounds nice :), and jesus, Sam, Dean thinks. Off to have the big college experience like he wanted so bad, off to have that new shiny life, and after five months away he's still all sadsack, still not actually living.

He clicks the comment box. He types, unaccountably mad. He hits submit, and gets a warning that it'll show as anonymous. He waits, and refreshes, and reads:

Anonymous: Just go hit a bar. Live a little. Thought you were supposed to be smart, college boy.

     rearviewmirror: Since when does smart have anything to do with it?

Dean rolls his eyes. He can hear Sam's voice saying it, nettled and trying to sound like he isn't.

Anonymous: You're on here mooning after Cindy Crawford when Claudia Schiffer and Tyra Banks are out there in the real world. Have a beer, get over it.

A pause. Dean has to refresh twice. The librarian walks by with her cart of books and gives him a distracted smile, and Dean's so addled he doesn't actually process and then return it until she's already gone.

rearviewmirror: I don't think it's something you get over. It mattered. It still does, to me.

Dean chews his thumbnail. Sam's face, turned unnaturally, looking out that window at the rain. The wet track, on his cheek.

Anonymous: Matters enough that you're never going to move on?

    rearviewmirror: I didn't think you could move on from family. Maybe I was wrong.

The air goes out of Dean's chest. He turns away from the computer, entirely, swiveling the chair so he's looking out at the lonely bookshelves. He flexes his jaw and swivels back around. Hits refresh.

The thread of comments is gone. He blinks, confused. He doesn't think he was hallucinating—been a while, since he was that tired and drunk. But—oh—in its place, a single comment, under the brief conversation with the NIN kid:

rearviewmirror: Tell me if it's you.

Dean licks his lips. He closes out of the browser, picks up his notepad and keys. On the steps outside it's cold, cold, fucking cold, and this town is bleak. He walks down to the Impala, waiting there in the iced-over grey snow, and braces his hands on the hood, and blows out a long purling winter-dragon breath, and then fishes his phone out of his pocket. Another new phone, but he's got Sam's number memorized, and he almost calls before he chickens out. If it's not actually wanted—he imagines that conversation and he's just not constitutionally capable, right now, of facing how goddamn awkward it'd be.

He texts: It's me.

The response, after seconds: Where are you?

The shitty part of Utah. That's saying something. Easier, like this. Like it's not him kicking down a doorway right into Sam's head.

I don't have class tomorrow.

Could be random, if he didn't know who he was talking to. Dean leans his elbows on the hood of the car, looking at the little box of black-and-white text. He chews his lips and thinks. Before he can respond, another message:

I don't want to move on.

Dean tips his head enough that he's pressing the edge of the phone into his forehead. His fingers are cold. He sniffs, his nose dripping in the icy weather, and types, careful to make sure he gets it right: I'm nine hours away.

Less, if he goes over 100 in the boring parts of Nevada, and if he doesn't stop at all for a catnap.

Stop in Reno for a nap. You get weird when you drive all night. Text me when you're close.

Dean works his jaw, standing there in the cold. He's got nothing to do, for two days. He's got most of a tank of gas. He's got—nothing. Nothing. He gets in the car, and he drives.

It's only 9:30 when he gets to Reno. There were parts of Nevada where he drove very, very fast. He pulls into a truck stop, gets more gas and parks out near where the semis are lined up, the drivers early-birding the night away. Still cold here but less so. He twists around so his back's to the passenger door and looks out the driver window at the neon signs of the truck stop, the cars going in and out of the gas islands. He ate a little but his stomach was all twisted up and he couldn't get much down. A beer would go easier but he doesn't want to be drunk. Well. He does. This is insane. This is—completely stupid.

He pulls out his phone, looks at it. Dials and holds it to his ear, and it rings three times—long enough for him to change his mind four times—before there's an answer, and Sam's voice says, "Dean?"

His voice. Dean closes his eyes, tips his head back against the cold glass of the window. "Long time, no speak," Dean says. It feels rusty.

Sam's quiet for a second, on the other end. "Not really, though. Right?"

"I guess so. It's not the same." Dean listens to the little acknowledging sound Sam makes. There's silence again, for seconds that he counts—one and then two and then three. He listens to the cooling tick of the engine, through it, and then says, before he loses his nerve, "I shouldn't come. Right? This is nuts."

There's some noise, staticky. Like something passed over the mic on Sam's phone. After a beat, Sam says, "You should do what you want to do."

"Oh, should I," Dean says, and it comes out sarcastic, but he doesn't really mean it to be mean. Sam doesn't take the bait, staying quiet on the other end, and Dean opens his eyes again, watching a huge truck muscle past the gas island, watching the normal world go by. He rubs his eye. "I've been—it's been weird, Sam."

Understatement, but he doesn't know why he says it. That kind of stuff isn't for Sam to worry about.

"Go to sleep," Sam says, instead of responding. "An hour or something, just enough so you won't drive off the road. Text me when you're close."

Same thing he said before. "It'll be like three in the morning when I'm close," Dean says, and Sam says, "I'll be awake," and then the line disconnects, and Dean's left there alone again on the bench seat, but it—feels different.

He sort of sleeps, sort of doesn't. He's got a talent for going to bed wherever and whenever he has to—on spare tires and on forest floors and in a closet, once, with a propane tank as his pillow—but his brain won't shut up. He drifts in and out, for the hour Sam asked him for, and then he gets out of the car and goes into the 24-hour c-store and buys a big cup of coffee and a Hershey bar, and points the hood west, and follows the yellow dashed line home.

He texts from a gas station outside Sacramento. Sam texts back in less than a minute with an address. Dean glances at his map of California and responds: 45 minutes, and it's more like thirty when he pulls up to the—yeah, the motel, and he makes a sound that's sort of like a laugh except it doesn't feel like one. He turns into the parking lot and the headlights flash the building, and there, sitting on the sidewalk with his back to a pillar.

Dean parks. Sam has his arms folded over his knees, but he unfurls, stands. Dean gets out of the car and Sam's—jesus, ten feet away, his face totally visible under the streetlight. His hair's a little longer. "Did you get taller?" Dean says, and Sam huffs, his head ducking, and—fuck everything else, it's Dean's little brother, and he drags Sam into a hug, folding his arms over Sam's shoulders even if he has to lift on his toes a little to do it. Sam goes stiff for half a second, but he hugs back, and Dean turns his face in, Sam's hair in his nose like it always is, and feels him—warm, and safe. All Dean ever wanted for him, pretty much.

"You have to get the room," Sam says, when they pull apart. At Dean's eyebrows he shrugs, the corner of his mouth curled. "What? My scholarship doesn't include seedy rent by the hour stuff."

"Oversight much?" Dean says, but he goes in, and he gets a room. Two queens, because that's what the tired miserable little desk clerk says they have available. Means Dean doesn't have to think about other possibilities, and it means that when he dangles the keys off his finger and Sam half-smiles at him, when they've walked down the cold sidewalk side by side, when Dean opens the door and finds the different motel room, same as the first—Sam sits on one bed, and Dean sits on the other, and they look at each other, and it's like it's two years ago and they're just two kids, waiting for Dad to come home.

Sam is taller. Taller than Dean, now. His hair long enough to fall in his eyes, which it does constantly. Newish sneakers, and old jeans, and a hooded sweatshirt, and a denim jacket over the top of that. Not warm enough for the Bay in winter, but Dean bites his tongue before he says anything about it.

"How are your classes?" he says, instead.

Sam's cheek sucks in, like he's chewing it. After a second he says, "You don't want to talk about my classes, man." His head tips. "Anyway. You read about it, right."

It was a mistake not to stop for beer. Dean needs something to do with his hands. "Your algebra professor sounds like an asshole," he says.

Makes Sam smile before he ducks his head, looking down at his lap. "I thought—" He swallows, audibly. He shakes his head, his hair falling down and hiding his face. "Only reason I started posting again was that I wondered if you might still—if you'd check."

It's quiet, honest. Dean hasn't talked to Sam in person for half a year and he's off-balance. Expecting Sam to snark, to be dismissive, to roll his eyes. Small hours of the morning, maybe he's too tired not to be honest. Maybe he's growing up. Dean's not prepared for that.

Sam looks up at him when Dean's silent for too long. His teeth dig into the corner of his mouth and he drags his hand through his hair, gets it off his forehead. "I said I didn't want to move on. You know what I meant, right?"

Dean huffs. "Yeah, I'm not an idiot, Sam," he says, and Sam's eyes tighten. Dean leans back on his hands, tips his head back on his shoulders to look at the ceiling. "Thought this was the whole point of getting out. Getting away, making a whole new life. Being someone else."

"I'm still me," Sam says, unseen. "And it wasn't the whole point. I want a life. That part—whatever, that doesn't matter right now. But I never thought the other thing was going to go away."

He stands up, so Dean can see him. Dean looks at him down his nose, and Sam's—god. Tall. That keeps being his first thought. Tall, and maybe not a stranger, even if he's real damn strange. Sam steps closer, in the little space between the two beds, chewing his lip again. He's gonna make a sore there. "Dean," he says, and Dean raises his eyebrows in response. "You came."

"Yeah," Dean says, rueful. "Well. I'm Cindy Crawford."

Sam's face ripples—a frown, surprise—and then a huffed little laugh—and then he steps between Dean's knees and touches his chest, his jaw. Leans down, slow, telegraphing like they're practicing a fight, and Dean stays exactly where he is, leaned back on his hands, and Sam's mouth touches his—softly. Not hesitant. Dean lets his eyes close and feels it. Puff of air against his face as Sam lets out a tense breath and then another kiss, the damp inside Sam's lip catching against Dean's, and Dean kisses back then, reaching up and getting Sam's jaw, his jacket, fisting the denim and pulling Sam closer. There's a stagger—Sam's knee landing on the bed by Dean's hip, and Dean gets an arm around his lower back and kisses him again, tasting him. Salt, and when Dean kisses him again and presses his mouth open, licks inside, there's coffee-taste, Sam's tongue—slick, tentative—he stayed up, to wait for Dean—his kiss clumsier now, like he doesn't have much practice.

Dean pulls back a few inches. Sam's half-draped on him, his weight nearly in Dean's lap. His eyes are dark but big with surprise, like he didn't expect Dean to go with it. "Sammy," Dean says, and Sam—shudders, his hands closing hard around Dean's shoulders. Okay, Dean thinks, filing that away. He drags a thumb over Sam's jaw, where he's got a barely-there prickle of stubble. "What are we doing?"

Sam shakes his head, licks his lips. "This," he says, holding the side of Dean's neck. "This."

They peel Sam's jacket off, and then Dean's. Sam's still in that hoodie, soft black, and Dean gets his fingers just under the hem of it, barely grazing Sam's stomach, kissing him again—tangled up close on the edge of the bed, Sam's thigh slung over his. Sam keeps touching his face, his chest. His amulet, swinging forward between them when he urges Sam down to his back on the mattress, a knee between Sam's and his hand still there on Sam's belly. Sam grips the amulet and breathes out hot against Dean's face and lifts up for another kiss, which Dean gives him easy, and it's—god, it's good. The lights on, the room warm, Sam wanting underneath his hand. His mouth, slick and open, learning how to press back, how to give as good as he's getting. Dean kisses his cheekbone, his jaw, settles his hand flat on Sam's stomach to ground him, says, "Sammy, you've done this before, right?" Sam hitches breath, nods. Dean sorta laughs, lifts up so he can actually see Sam's expression. "More than once?"

"Twice," Sam says, and when Dean raises his eyebrows he frowns, vaguely indignant. "Jenny Morrison, just before graduation." He licks his lips. "And—a guy. After student orientation, here."

"Playing the field, huh?" Dean says. There's no reason it should make his stomach go molten hot. He rubs Sam's stomach, feels the rise of his breath. "You like it?" Sam nods, again. "What'd you do?"

Sam's cheeks are dark, brick-red. He licks his lips again and Dean ducks back in to kiss him, knocking his mouth open, tasting inside. Earns himself a small deep noise and Sam's hand sliding through his hair where it's too short to grab. He nudges Sam's nose and sits up, peeling off his overshirt. "C'mon. What'd you do? Didn't put that up on your journal, how am I supposed to know?"

"It was a rush party," Sam says, looking at him. He pulls his t-shirt off over his head, making sure his amulet stays put, and Sam blinks heavily, his lips parted. Jeez—it's weird. Hot. Sam wants him, Dean thinks, and it sends a rush of blood south. "He's—uh. Pre-med, smart."

"Not looking for his biography, Sammy," Dean says, and spreads his hands on Sam's hips, pushing up. The hoodie moves, the t-shirt underneath rucks up—Sam's pale here but still that faint all-over tan, darker than Dean's skin. He licks his lips. "What'd you do? Jerk each other off?"

Sam nods, again, his mouth open. God, Dean can imagine it. On some dorm-room bed, their heads leaned together, Sam's mouth open just like this—panting, his hand fumbling down—fuck, fuck it's hot, Sam nervous and into it and trying, making sure. "You liked it, huh?" Dean says, stroking his thumbs over Sam's bare belly.

"Yeah," Sam says, thin on not enough air, his knee drawing up. "But I—I thought about—when you kissed me—" and Dean kisses him again, groaning. Jesus, Sam's gonna kill him. Thinking about some shitty nervous freaked-out kiss when another guy's got his tongue in Sam's mouth. Sam grabs his shoulders, sits up, and Dean accommodates him easy, letting Sam touch him back—Sam's hands sliding down his chest, around to his ribs, grasping. "Dean," he says, panting.

"Let's get this off, huh?" Dean says, pulling, and Sam yanks the hoodie off in a second flat, his hair all ruffling up behind it. The shirt comes with it and there's just Sammy's bare smooth skin, that same pale tan all over. Small brownish nipples, slim muscles. His body. Dean dips and kisses his bare shoulder, licking there, biting, and Sam's nails dig into his ribs so he does it again, swinging a leg over so he's straddling Sam's lap, taking his time. He scrapes his teeth over the swell where Sam's collarbone dips into the arch of his trap, and Sam grips his neck, his back arching. He's hard. Shit, he's nineteen, he has to be hard. Dean slides his fingers down Sam's belly to his belt, tucking under the waist of his jeans, but Sam grips his wrist, then, groaning, saying—"Wait—wait—"

Dean drops his head to Sam's shoulder, groaning back. "We waited," he says, but Sam's hand is on his shoulder, pushing him back, making him look. "What?"

Sam's pink. "Have you—with a guy?" Dean rocks back but Sam's holding him close, looking all over his face. "Dean. Have you—"

"Yeah," Dean says, and watches Sam's ears go red. Sam doesn't need to know when, but it was all in the last year. Three dudes, hookups that were way too easy. They were good—turns out that Dean just likes sex, any way someone will give it to him—and he learned what it felt like to have a dick not his own in his hand, how it felt to slip a cock into his mouth and make a man groan. He hadn't thought about Sam while he was doing it, not really, but he's thinking about it now, and Sam's eyes have dropped, his lips between his teeth. Jealous? Dean smiles while Sam can't see and breaks Sam's hold on his wrist, and slides his hand down, and cups the crotch of Sam's jeans where he's swelling them out. Sam jerks, eyes flying open. "Means I know what I'm doing. Yeah?"

"Yeah," Sam breathes, and then it's—undoing his belt, and unzipping, and then—god, he's still got his sneakers on. Dean backs off and kicks off his boots, deliberately, and Sam blinks at him hot-eyed with his chest heaving and his jeans half-open looking like a friggin porno, but then he gets with the program, and the shoes thud to the shitty carpet and then they're practically racing, undressing, and when Dean kicks his boxers off to the side Sam's—naked, half on the bed, staring at him. Dean stares back, circling a hand around Sam's ankle. God, to look at him, in the lamplight. Long legs, hairier on the shins and lightly furred on the thighs, and a decent dark bush around a dick that's—jesus, that dick. Big, bigger than Dean's, bigger than—Dean licks his lips and looks up with an effort and Sam's staring right back at him, focused between his legs, his mouth parted. "Like what you see?" Dean says, and Sam doesn't answer, just reaches for him, and Dean crawls up the bed and settles on his elbow above Sam with their legs brushing bare, Sam's dick hot against his hip, and Sam kisses him with both hands on his face, his thigh dragging up against Dean's, his lips almost trembly.

Dean soothes a hand down Sam's ribs but Sam's—fuck. Shaking. They haven't even done anything. "Sammy," Dean whispers, between Sam's needing brief kisses, and Sam shakes his head and kisses him again and then ducks his head down, his nose brushing under Dean's jaw. Dean pulls Sam closer—tips, so they're on their sides—and pulls Sam's leg over his hip, pushes in, and—ah, shit, shit that feels good, Sam's big dick brushing in against his, dragging heavy and hot. "Oh," says Sam, small, and Dean slips his hand further and grips Sam's ass, the muscle tight and small—pulls in, and pulls again, encouraging, and Sam grips Dean's shoulder underhand tight enough to hurt but follows, pushing in with the rhythm Dean's urging. He's breathing fast, hot against Dean's throat, but he's got it—humping in, meeting Dean, making their dicks slide, his cockhead smearing wet against Dean's belly. Dean hums, kissing Sam's temple where he can just reach it, just enjoying the—insane way it feels. He lets Sam's ass go and Sam keeps going—good, good—and he licks his fingers sloppy, and reaches down between them, and for the first time he gets a grip on Sam's dick, feels the heft of it. Sam makes a sound like he's been shot and Dean says shh, easy, slicking his hand down to the base, squeezing hard as he pulls back up, and Sam makes another gulping strange sound, his thigh clutching hard around Dean's hip, his hand crushing Dean's lower back in closer. "That feel good?" Dean says, and Sam—comes. Fast, humping in, spurting up Dean's belly and his own, the slick getting all over Dean's dick, hot and wet, the sensation enormous. Dean squeezes him through it, knowing, and Sam humps in again and grabs his ass, nails digging in. Dean tips his head back, feeling it. God, it's good. Sam. His brother.

He swallows. His dick's throbbing, wanting more, feeling left behind. Sammy shudders and Dean licks his lips, pushes Sam back so his shoulders hit the bed. He flops—boneless, shocked—and Dean drags his hands over Sam's ribs, frames his hips. His dick is still big, flushed and wet, his balls clutched up high, and Dean licks his lips and says, "Okay," to no one, and leans down, and gets Sam's dick in his mouth.

A shock, Sam's body practically lifting off the bed. "What," he says, somewhere Dean can't see him—"What are you, oh—" and Dean thinks, oh, what if no one has done this? What if Jenny just opened her legs and she and Sam humped awkward and teenage in some backseat—what if pre-med only wiped his handful of Sam's jizz on the mattress and passed out—what if Dean's the first one, here, opening his jaw wide, careful of his teeth, slicking down, getting the whole fat length of it in his mouth. Only—he can't, fuck, Sam's too big. He fists the base, pulls off, spits and slicks the wet down. When he glances up Sam's up on his elbows, staring, and Dean grins at him, jerks it again, swallows. He can taste Sam's jizz, leftover from coming before. "Hang on," Dean says, and goes back down, letting the head bust his lips open, slicking tight down to his fist, dragging his tongue hard against the underside, suckling easy. Sam takes his statement as an order and grips his head, his shoulder, his hips cringing up into Dean's mouth, and Dean heaves in air, feels Sam firming up again, thick and needing and good.

He's only done this a few times but he—shit, he liked it. Likes it better the other way around, of course, but like this—his dick pressing into the bed, throbbing—Sam splitting open his mouth—yeah, it doesn't exactly suck. He bobs up and down, making sure to pay special attention to the soft ridge at the head, and Sam's making insane noises, now, up above him, petting his head and his shoulders and gripping, trying to shove up. Dean leans into his hip so he can't, fists his dick, pulls off gasping and licking his lips. Sam's still staring, down the length of his torso, and Dean jerks him through the goopy mess they're making—his spit, Sam's precome, what Sam's already come. "You like it?" Dean says, and Sam—rolls his eyes, the little shit.

"You're smug," Sam says, and Dean raises his eyebrows and says, "You're damn right I am," and lets Sam's dick go and goes down, down, no fist in the way until Sam's dick hits the back of his throat and he gags—breathes through it—slurps up with tight lips and then goes right back down, getting his throat used to it, learning the feel of this massive, awesome dick. Sam moans, pushes his hips up, and Dean lets him, rides it—lets Sam fuck up, lets him get a rhythm, like fucking—Sam, fucking his face—and Dean reaches down between his own legs and fists his own dick, finally, groaning in relief and making Sam shudder as the vibration rumbles through Dean's open throat. Sam grips his head with both hands, holding him down, and Dean drags in air through his nose and holds there, filled up with Sam and choking, spit flooding out of his open mouth—the world dark and just Sam's taste, his smell—and Sam makes a little sound—and Dean grunts and lifts off, breaks Sam's hold and crawls up his body, straddling his hips and dragging his dick against where Sam's is all sloppy-hot, dripping wet. Sam gasps up at him and grabs his hips, his ass, fucking up into him, and Dean grips both their dicks in two hands, fucking into the tight wet channel he's making for them both, and Sam pulls at his ass, spreading it, rocking his hips to help, moaning and looking helpless up into Dean's face, and Dean leans down and breathes against him and Sam still comes first, creaming them both, his dick flexing and twitching in Dean's grip, and Dean braces one slick hand on the bed and fists himself seriously, jerking fast, and Sam moans and kisses his jaw and pulls at his ass with those big hands, his fingers slipping low, dipping—and Dean jerks and spills, his belly seizing, his thighs clamping around Sam's hips, Sam's lips open and dragging wet against his throat, his fist gripping the bedspread so hard that his fingers cramp.

Sam's stroking his hips, repetitive and soft, when he's done panting. Dean swallows, shifts his weight. He's slumped on top of Sam, his face buried in Sam's shoulder. Wet between them, sliding, and he releases his dick and slips his sticky hand out, bracing on the bed enough to get some air between them. When he lifts up Sam's eyes are half-closed, but he focuses on Dean's face right away, and his hands stop their stroking and just squeeze, warm and tight. "You okay?" Sam says.

"My line," Dean says, and Sam rolls his eyes again, squeezes again. Dean sits up more but Sam doesn't let go. "C'mon, we should clean up."

Sam's eyes tighten, just barely. He sits up, keeping his grip on Dean, and Dean rocks back but doesn't tip over. He gets a hand on Sam's shoulder to keep his balance and Sam says, steady, "Don't freak. Okay?"

"Who's freaking?" Their dicks are still pressed wetly together, though Dean's basically soft, now. Sam's still plump, thick. He swallows. "C'mon, we're gonna get cemented together," he says, and Sam's mouth purses but his grip goes light, and it gives enough room that Dean can lift off, get his feet under him. Jesus, there's enough jizz on him that it's rolling down his belly—he claps a hand to it before it can drop, smearing it over his abs. "You come like a geyser, dude," he says, not really complaining, but Sam's cheeks are red when he looks back up, and he feels—shit. He doesn't know.

He goes to the bathroom. Fluorescent light, pink-painted sink. He wets one of the five-cent washrags and wipes himself up, and he's not turned on anymore so his thought is mainly that it's just gross, and that bed's going to be wrecked, and also, what is he doing. What is he doing.

Sam's hand appears, reaching around him. He jumps. In the mirror behind him, Sam's tall, looking over his shoulder. Looking at Dean, even as he wets the other rag, cleans himself up. Dean chews the inside of his lip and can't really turn away. Sam's got red marks on his shoulder, where Dean was biting him.

"Stay," Sam says. He tosses his wet rag back into the sink and settles his hands on Dean's biceps, squeezing. When he steps forward his dick presses into the small of Dean's back and his chest is warm, damp. "Tomorrow at least. We've got the room. Stay."

"You want your dick sucked again?" Dean says, and that time it is mean and he did kind of mean it to be, and Sam's eyelids dip and his jaw clenches, but he only slips his hands away from Dean's arms to his ribs, holding him. It feels… Dean shakes his head. "Sam," he says, but there's not really anything that can go after it.

A big hand slides up and over, flattening on his breastbone. "It's not just this," Sam says, meeting Dean's eyes in the mirror, and it makes Dean's cheeks go hot.

He covers Sam's hand with his. He shivers, for some reason. He says, "I should take a shower, I've been in the car all day," and Sam says, "Okay," and Dean takes a shower and Sam sits on the closed toilet, watches him through the clear curtain. Gives him a towel when he comes out. Takes his hips, when he's dry, and presses him to the tiled wall, and tips his head up, and kisses him clean.

Five in the morning, or later. There's a clean bed and Dean hasn't slept in a day. He lays down and Sam lays down with him, a few inches away until Dean relents and turns over, and Sam curls up behind him, holding on, his mouth against Dean's shoulder. There's going to be a call from Dad, at some point. Dean's going to have to meet him somewhere, because there's going to be something bad that needs killing. He can't stay. He's wired and tired, all at once.

"Sleep," Sam says, and Dean turns his head against the pillow, knows he will.

"Hey," he says, and Sam makes a quiet noise. "If you put this on your journal, maybe bloodofreptile will finally shut up about you getting laid all the time."

"His name is Dennis," Sam says, and Dean laughs, weirdly glad. Dennis. Yeah, that fits. "And this isn't going on the internet."

"Probably a good idea," Dean says, and Sam says, again, "Dude, go to sleep," and Dean tips back into Sam's warmth, and does, and it's the best sleep he's gotten in a year.

[haikyuuwriting]

CONGRATS ON 5K YOU DESERVE IT!!! I love your writing :) can I request Kunimi with the prompt "I understand the whole sleep talking thing but what I don’t understand is the princess dragon dream and why I’m in it." I’m also applying to college this year so I wish the both of us luck! YOU’ll do great !!

ridiculous sentence prompts

thank you!! I wish you luck in your applications too we got this!!!!! also I cannot believe this is the first thing I’ve written for kunimi omg

Kunimi doesn’t usually like going to other people’s houses just to “hang out.” He also usually doesn’t agree to stay up for ungodly hours just to realize two broke teenagers can’t buy a private island right this instant. But people change. And Y/N changed you~

He sat up abruptly from the bed, eyes opening to stare at Y/N’s bedroom wall. Even after he’s gone, Oikawa still finds a way to weasel his way into Kunimi’s mind and influence his actions.

Before he’d graduated and left the team, Oikawa had asked Kunimi about his relationship with Y/N. It was after practice, and after Y/N had peeked into the gym and wave at him before going off to club activities. Oikawa told him he’d never seen Kunimi smile at someone like that before.

“Y/N’s a friend,” he’d replied, not missing the look Kindaichi had given him.

And they were, he wasn’t lying. After sitting next to them for a few weeks in classes, Y/N became a quick friend, someone nice to talk to in class and even eat with at lunch with Kindaichi. Then they became study buddies, going over to each other’s houses after school. Then friends, hanging out on the weekends and teaching each other odd skills they’d picked up over the years.

And how here he was, sleeping next to them. They were third years now, about to graduate and go their separate ways. Y/N was planning on applying to the same college as Kunimi was, and he found himself hoping that they’d both get in and get to attend together. He couldn’t see himself without them anymore, and it was starting to scare him.

Y/N mumbled in their sleep. Kunimi was so used to their sleep talking he hardly noticed. 

At first, the thought of sharing a bed had made him blush way more than he’d like to admit. But after sleeping on the floor one too many sleepovers and waking up with a neck cramp, he finally caved and agreed to share half of Y/N’s surprisingly spacious bed. Now it wasn’t awkward at all, and sometimes he’d wake up with his arm wrapped around them, having cuddled closer in his sleep. 

Maybe this was more than they were both letting on. Kunimi turned to look at the sleeping Y/N, who was hugging a spare pillow to their chest, their mouth moving as they talked softly in their sleep. He was about to go back to sleep when he heard them mumble his name.

“Kunimi...” He froze, staring at them.

“Not Kunimi, your highness... Take me instead.”

Kunimi wasted no time in hitting Y/N with his pillow.

They awoke with a small scream, almost falling over the side of the bed in their hurried attempt to sit up. They scowled at him as they yawned, still clutching their pillow. “What?”

“You were having that dream again.”

Y/N furrowed their eyebrows in thought. Their eyes widened in horror as the dream seemed to settle in their minds, horrible flashes of the princess dragon making Y/N choose who to sacrifice. Themselves, or Kunimi.

Y/N had told him about this dream countless of times, how the dragon never went away unless Y/N said something. He thought it was an odd dream. “Just teach yourself to lucid dream,” had been his initial response.

"I understand the whole sleep talking thing,” Kunimi said quietly, not wanting to wake up anyone else in the Y/N household. “But what I don’t understand is the princess dragon dream and why I’m in it."

Y/N shifted from their spot across from him, their grip on the pillow tightening. “I watched a lot of fantasy movies as a kid, and in one of them the dragon princess didn’t let the heroes cross her land unless one of them stayed behind to be a servant for a year.”

“You’re not dreaming about Princess and the Dragon?” Y/N shot him a questioning look. “My little cousin made me watch it with her,” he explained.

“We should watch it sometime. No, it’s just a random royalty dragon. I always volunteer to stay behind.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you.”

Kunimi gapes at them. Y/N isn’t looking at him, instead choosing to intently stare at their hands. It’s not the first time they’ve said it - they’ve been friends for years, and they’ve both said it to each other a few times before. It’s not a phrase they throw around lightly, though. “Plus, the dragon princess always lets me do what I want in the castle when you leave, as long as I just clean. I live a good life before I wake up.”

“Do I ever come back for you?” Kunimi demands, as much as he can in a whisper. Y/N glances at him, deep in thought. He doesn’t pause to think how bizarre this conversation is - it’s the middle of the night and here they are, discussing a dream Y/N has about royal dragons and it’s underlying meaning.

“I’ve never dreamed that far in. I always wake up before the year is over.”

“I wouldn’t leave you,” Kunimi says instantly. “I’d stay and be a servant with you.”

Y/N smiles at him. “You’re really nice sometimes, Kunimi.”

“Only to you,” he mumbles quietly as Y/N moves to settled back into bed. He remains sitting.

“Sorry for waking you,” Y/N whispers. “Go back to bed.”

“I was already awake,” Kunimi responds, staring at Y/N as they adjust themselves until they’re facing the ceiling, staring back at him. “I love you too, you know.”

“I know,” Y/N sighs, eyes fluttering closed. “You mumble it in your sleep sometimes.”

“I do?” Y/N’s already fast asleep. Kunimi settles back underneath the covers beside them, turning to face them. He didn’t realize he was a sleep-talker, too. He hears Y/N quietly start to talk again, and instinctively scoots himself closer to them until their noses are almost touching. He takes their hand in his, rubbing circles and watching as Y/N’s face softens and they stop whispering, their face once more relaxing and their breaths deepening as they sleep.

masterlist | 5k blogiversary celebration

[p5youllneverseeitcoming]

Persona 5 Strikers/Scramble

So! I finished the story of Persona 5 Strikers and I wanted to share my thoughts as I have soooo much to say but cannot share with my friends due to spoilers :’) I am currently playing on a New Game+ as, ya girl wants the Platinum Trophy :o

I will talk about some of the things that I really liked here (Spoiler free don’t worry) AND include spoilery things under the cut so I won’t ruin the experience for anyone else!

The Plot

Obviously this takes place after the original Persona 5 story finishes and as opposed to a whole year, you just get 1 month with the Phantom Thieves. I really liked exploring all the cities you travel to and the character interactions were so cute!! I really like the two new characters introduced (Sophia and Zenkichi Hasegawa). Both of them fit the story so well and their interactions with the other Thieves are honestly so good and pure! Also?? Their outfits? Amazing T_T It was such a nice change seeing everyone in casual outfits as opposed to their school uniforms!

I also loved the fact that you could choose to play with characters that get introduced late game like Haru for example straight away. I for one, always have her in my party as soon as she’s available so having her for the whole game was like a dream come true haha. I’ll talk about Sophia and Zenkichi a bit more under the cut but I will say that it’s so fun to play as them! I personally prefer Sophia more as she has healing skills which are always really useful and she uses yo-yo’s for her weapons which are so fun to use. Zenkichi uses a great sword which is very Final Fantasy of him and I am loving it. I love their Phantom Thief outfits! Sophia looks super cute in her floofy coat and boots and Zenkichi just looks so cool! His hat is goals, I want one T_T

The anime cutscenes in the game are also... Omg... I just can’t help but fangirl over how everyone looks... ESPECIALLY SOPHIA OML, she’s so... Bby... And of course, the dialogue options you can choose are so funny, then again what else can you expect from a game that had the option to say “you jelly?” to Ryuji.

I won’t spoil the main plot but this game works similarly to Persona 5 in the sense of, you still go into dungeons but these ones are a lot shorter and when you leave the dungeon, the days don’t actually move forward, only specific story points advance the days. So essentially if you wished, you can stay and grind for as long as you like!

The Gameplay

I won’t lie, as expected from a hack-and-slash it gets quite chaotic at first if you don’t fully know what’s going on but you get used to it pretty quickly! The game gives you tutorials whenever anything new appears and you get the hang of it pretty well by the first dungeon. You still only have 4 characters in your party and Akira must always be present but here you can actually run around as the other party members when the battles are over! Also? Morgana gets comical sound effects when he does things like jumping and running and I was LIVING for it.

The other thing that changed is, obviously it’s not turn based so if you were like me and wore the SP restoring accessories to get 7SP back each turn, you’re in for a last surprise! In this game you actually use your items quite a lot as there isn’t a limit to how much you can use as you access them mid battle by pausing. Later on you get specific skills that restore your SP after each battle or by performing All Out Attacks and 1 More’s so honestly, SP isn’t really a problem for regular battles. I mainly found it running out quickly when I was fighting some of the optional bosses but I always had SP restoring items so it was all good hehe.

You still do things like All Out Attacks and 1 More’s in this game but you also do something called ‘Showtime’ which is very similar to the ones introduced in Royal only in Strikers it’s for one character, you basically build up the showtime gauge as you battle enemies and, once activated, you deal significant damage to stronger enemies like bosses as well as all of the enemies in the area. The All Out Attacks also have their own little animation with your party posing and just looking really good!

Yusuke being so extra is honestly such a mood omg... Also Mona T_T So smol.

Every party member has their own special quirks such as Ann and Makoto applying Fire and Nuclear affinity respectively to their regular weapons, Morgana turning into the Mona car and so on. I personally always had Haru and Yusuke in my party and kept switching between the other Thieves to see what I like best. Personally, I really like having Morgana or Sophia as they’re really good healers, Morgana obviously having the more powerful skills such as Mediaharan and Salvation.

Also... The menus... Omg... If you thought the Persona 5 menu was stylish then you will LOVE the Strikers menus. They’re so stylish! And I love that all the Phantom Thieves are there too, it’s so cute T_T

The only thing I don’t like is the game doesn’t pause when your controller dies so uh... I may or may not have died during a boss battle when I was like 2 hits away from winning and then just... Stopped moving letting the boss hit me with a killing combo :)

To be honest though the party that I had pretty much all the time was:

But as I said, I liked to change Morgana and Sophia around every now and then.

The Music

Omg the music. Atlus really just said: Hey what if we made Persona 5 music again but like... More epic?

The song that plays right as soon as you have control of Joker is SO. GOOD. I legit had to pause for like 5 mins just to jam out. I don’t think it will come as much of a surprise but in my opinion, Persona 5 definitely has one of the best video game soundtracks, I absolutely love all the songs!

I will discuss some of the dungeon themes in the spoilers but I absolutely love the soundtrack for this game. Every dungeon theme is so fitting for said dungeon, I genuinely listen to them all the time, especially when doing my research for my essays!

The battle music is really energetic as opposed to the jazzy feel from the original Persona 5 soundtrack but it’s very fitting for the actual battle as you often fly all around the area instead of standing in one spot. I will say, Last Surprise made an excellent comeback despite being an already amazing song which is just, amazing, incredible, fantastic...

Other things

Well, I can’t go into detail due to spoilers but they deadass put a JoJo reference as well as a character in the game :’) The moment I saw them I was fangirling so hard!!! Also? The villain designs in this game??? Amazing. Beautiful. Very creative!

The Phantom Thieves interacting with each other is also really cute! I ESPECIALLY liked the fact that Morgana and Ryuji got along a lot better! They still had small fights here and there but they pretty much apologised to one another straight away which I really liked! Also? Ryuji protecting his friends, especially the girls? Amazing. Wonderful. Cannot help but stan.

Well, that concludes the non-spoiler section which.... Is kinda long haha, Below the cut I will talk about the spoilery things so I advise looking at it AFTER you finish the game!

The Plot

The plot of this game is really fun if you ask me. You travel around Japan defeating Monarchs in Jails AND you get to experience the joys of summer vacation with your friends and your new Persona dad. I really like the fact that you don’t advance time when you leave the Jails because this gives you the chance to grind as much as you want before tackling harder fights like some of the optional bosses. The boss designs themselves were so good! Especially Alice?! My God? She’s beautiful?? Look at her!

Persona 5 Strikers said you can be horny on main... Just this once o_o. She literally steps on Joker in the Jail which o_o Ma’am... Plz but she ALSO steps on her manager in the real world.

I really liked all the bosses in this game because they felt so... Real? Obviously I don’t agree with them for brainwashing people into worshipping them, but I really like how the game gave them backstories that showed why they strayed away from the right path. The fact that the Thieves tell them that they understand their struggles because they themselves went through the same thing (Like Ann and Yusuke) honestly made me appreciate the story that much more. I really liked Haru’s little arc in Sapporo because not only did she help Mariko Hyodo and show her that despite mistakes you can always stand up and start again, but she also got to have more screentime, like that cute fountain scene she has with Akira! ALSO? The Hee-Horde?! I was laughing for a solid 5 minutes when I saw it! It was so cute how Haru, Sophia, Ryuji and Yusuke were so into it while Futaba was just there like: ????

I think my favourite Jail out of all of them will definitely have to be the Kyoto one, a.k.a. the Jail controlled by Zenkichi’s daughter, Akane. Despite how short it is, you can learn so much about her. The overall aesthetic of the jail shows her love to the Phantom Thieves and in the actual Jail theme you can hear fragments of ‘Life Will Change’ and ‘Wake Up, Get Up, Get Out There’ which I think is absolutely amazing! The boss fight for this jail honestly took me 3 tries to beat as the first time, I died due to not fully getting how Shadow Joker worked, and the second time, I was about 2 hits from beating him but then... My controller died :’) By the time it turned back on I was already c-c-c-c-comboed to death so :’) This is also the jail where Zenkichi awakens to his Persona and honestly? I found the little segment where he has to sneak around in his usual everyday attire so cute, bless him, he really did adopt 7 teenagers, their cat and an AI daughter.

ALSO?! They deadass put Dio in this game? Like when I first saw Natsume’s shadow I was like: Hm looks kinda familiar...

BUT THEN?!

Needless to say I was fangirling pretty hard.

I liked Akira Konoe, very much vibing with his Power Ranger aesthetic however, I have to say, his boss fights was surprisingly... Easy? At least it felt easy to me which was kind of... Disappointing I suppose for him supposedly being “the final boss” HOWEVER, I very much liked how his calling card was delivered, and the fact that Zenkichi could finally get his revenge was very satisfying! 

Now, let’s talk about the end game, mainly the Abyss Jail.  I did NOT see it coming (haha) that it was Ichinose all along! As I’m currently replaying the game, the fact that she doesn’t want to look at Sophia despite specialising in AI technology should have been my first clue that something is not quite right here! 

When she forces Sophia to attack the Thieves, it honestly broke my heart. The fact that she recognised Joker and Skull... And she threw herself off the ledge just so she can’t hurt them anymore... Yo, I love her so much T_T That’s why her awakening to her Persona (her true Persona) was such a satisfying scene! Her Persona (Pandora) has a really cool design, I especially like the fact that she represents the Hope Arcana (as there was hope left at the bottom of Pandora’s box) and that Pandora herself kept the box-y design from her original “Persona” Pithos. I found it quite funny that all the skills Pithos has ended with a “?”. Anyway, the scene where she tells Ichinose all the things she learnt, and that Ichinose herself has a heart despite believing that she doesn’t for so long was so touching. It showed that Sophia deeply cares for her, despite the fact that she literally said she’s the reason so many people are getting mind controlled by EMMA. The ending scene with the two of them laughing and holding hands... My heart T_T

Now then, let’s talk about EMMA.

I. Loved. The. Final. Boss. Fight.

The fact that the game makes you use ALL the characters for the final fight! As I usually switched out characters here and there, my reserve party members weren’t severely under-levelled which made the fight pretty okay! I had quite... Strange groups I would say as I had Makoto and Zenkichi being a team, Morgana, Ann and Ryuji being a team, and Akira, Haru, Yusuke and Sophia being the final team. The final boss itself, has an absolutely beautiful design. I especially loved the angel like wings because it really showed that EMMA saw herself as a saviour. The cutscene that plays after with all the Thieves dealing the final blows before watching all the desires fall around them was honestly so pretty... Man, this game series is just so aesthetic!

When the credits rolled and all the photos started appearing I couldn’t help but start crying. It really felt like you were actually there, living through all the memories and the fact that Sophia called the photo of all of them together “Treasure”... T_T

The Gameplay

I already pretty much said all I wanted for the gameplay in the non-spoiler section but I will say, the Showtimes and the Master Skills each character learns are so good! I love that once you master all of them you’re bascially unstoppable, I especially love Haru’s and Akira’s as it allows them to deal damage even if they’re a safe distance away from the enemy. The fact that you can learn Bond skills that restore SP with every All Out Attack and One More is honestly so helpful because it saves you going back and forth between the real world but then again, by this point you probably have way too many HP and SP restoring items!

I really liked that Zenkichi has no weaknesses and uses Almighty damage but I find the whole Fury/HP consumption combination a bit weird. After a while you get used to it and obviously you don’t have to activate fury at all but as I said before, I prefer playing as Sophia. Although, I will say that gun wise, I think Zenkichi’s are a lot more fun to use than Sophia’s blasters, but then again that’s just my personal opinion!

The Music

As I said, the music was so fitting for each Jail, I absolutely love it.

The first Jail, you honestly can’t help but bop your head to the beat. It really gives you the impression that you’re in some kind of twisted theme park which really fit the overall aesthetic of the Jail. I loved the vibrant neon colour scheme in such a dark looking place.

The Okinawa Jail... My God that theme was so good. I can’t really explain it but the song really made you feel like you were... Alone, like the place was truly abandoned and forgotten. As soon as the violin started playing I couldn’t help but just stop and listen to it. The overall jail was just so... Creepy. The Shadows there resemebled the shadows you would usually find in the previous Persona games, just this black mass slithering around. I think it was very fitting that they put the Reaper in this Jail. 

As I mentioned before, the Kyoto Jail theme is my absolute favourite. The fact that it has elements of other Persona 5 songs due to Akane being a big Phantom Thieves fan was such a good choice! I love how when you take a closer look, you can see the Phantom Thieves logo on the lanterns and the fact that Shadow Akane herself made a Phantom Thief outfit for herself... Big mood. I loved how all the Thieves encouraged her to try and get along with her dad better AND that they taught Zenkichi how to cook just so he can make curry for her, especially when you remember just how much curry means to someone like Futaba. 

I really liked the remix of Rivers in a Desert, then again what did I expect from a Persona game? The battle music is ALWAYS amazing. I really liked how this played when you fight Konoe as it parallels when you fight Shido in the original, supposedly the final fight, only to find out that there is something MUCH bigger than them.

Other things

This post is already way too long and if you read all of this... Thank you so much. Sadly, I cannot share this with any of my friends as it’s spoilers so I hope you guys don’t mind me sharing this here! I would love to see your opinion of this game!!!

Also? Yusuke and Akira are now canonically dating and I think that’s beautiful

And then that scene later on

Why do you think we came here with Yusuke, Morgana?

TL;DR: I love this game

[softrozene]

I Can Keep Complimenting You

Omg, I have not seen the whole movie, only bits and pieces but I loved that part! I adored writing this, so I hope you enjoy this lovely!

Oh, Reader and Shanks are fifteen like requested so that means this is right after Gol D. Roger’s execution!

Shanks x Female Reader

Warnings: Slight violence, fluff, comedy, I added a pinch of angst because why not, cringy common pick-up lines because I love them

Words: 1275

Shanks is a simple teenage boy. If he sees a pretty girl, he is of course going to flirt with her. It does not really matter to him since he had thought his face would be forgettable since Roger died. However, that turned out not to be the case when he went up to the prettiest girl he ever saw, you.

Before he can even utter the pick-up line that he has chosen for you, you give him the nastiest of glares and it freezes him to the spot. The first emotion he feels is confusion before he realizes he likes you glaring at him too because that means he got your attention.

Then when he gets the giddy feeling out of him and takes in the sight of your body, or more particularly, your outfit, he realizes why he got such a heated glare. You are a marine and from the looks of it a fresh one. He cannot just leave you alone. Something in his gut told him to make you look at him in a different light other than what the marines painted him and the Roger Pirates in, so he went for it.

As he gets closer to your tensing up figure, he makes that charming smile on his face grow and he says in a calm and slightly teasing tone.

“Do you have a name, or can I call you mine?”

He watches as your tense form shakes before slowly releasing all tension as a smile forms on your face. He can practically feel the heat radiate off your cheeks and it makes him feel proud. Even you can’t take him as a serious threat after that lame but cute pick-up line because you end up stifling your giggles.

“(Name). I already know you are Shanks,” You state.

(Name)? He thinks it suits you and he can’t help but pin it in his memory.

“Hey, ain’t you a little young to be a marine?” Shanks questions.

You seem his age and that means you are definitely a bit young to take on a role of a marine but it isn’t uncommon for teenagers to join, especially after a tragedy in family so that is what he assumes to be your case.

Your reply is quick and witty, “Ain’t you a little young to be a pirate?”

His grin widens more, and he can feel his heart hammering in his chest. Yes, he can that you are already seeing him in a different light.

“Touché. Hey, I know we just met but if I had to rate you out of 10, I’d rate you a 9… because I am the one that you are missing!” Shanks says his heart racing the more you try and fight that cute smile to get off your face.

You look around the busy street and avoid eye contact with him as you say, “You should go before I go get back up since you are a criminal.”

He can see through the lie. He knows he already charmed you and somehow you charmed him. With that goofy grin, he does heed your warning.

“I will leave for now but… Are you sure you are not the criminal? Because I swear, you just stole my heart from across the street,” He states.

This time you have to physically turn around so he can’t see your face, but it is too late. He saw it, the genuine smile, and he fell harder. Deciding not to push his luck anymore, he leaves but first promising you that he will be back.

Shanks does end up keeping his word. He hangs around the island, not much in a hurry either since he has no leads to find a crew to make, and since he seems smitten with you. It felt perfect since he just went through a terrible loss with Gol D. Roger.

He took his time with his visits since he did not wish to get you in trouble and in each visit, he would tease and flirt with you relentlessly. Your cute reactions filled him with life. It seems you like him as well since you put up with him, but he does feel you get tenser with each visit.

It is the sixth visit that he realizes that yes, something has changed. He has a good idea of what, but he does not dare bring it up. Instead, he does what he usually does and teases and flirts with you.

“Hey (Name), did you have lunch yet? Because if not I want to know what is on the menu? I am thinking Me-n-u,” Shanks says.

It is the third joke he had given this visit but instead of your usual stifled laugh or the hand over your face, he notices that your hand twitches to go over your pocket. He knows what is going to happen and he accepts it.

“Are you okay (Name)? I noticed you have looked off and if you are not okay, I know this great vitamin that can help you. Vitamin ME-“

Shanks is pushed to the ground with you on top of him and your knife to his neck. You look so conflicted as if you really do want to end him but at the same time it would kill you if you did that. He stays quiet as he takes in your appearance.

You speak up with a shaky voice, “Why? Why do you do this? It is so annoying the way you care for me when it is all going to be vain due to our different sides! Doesn’t that bother you? I should just end this here and now and save us the heartbreak.”

The knife against his throat feels cool to the touch but it is shaking badly to show how conflicted you are. You want him to show hatred at you for this act of betrayal you have done since he has been nothing but nice, but he does not hold an ounce of it in his eyes.

Instead, he gives you that goofy grin you love so much, and he says, “You’re so beautiful.”

You’re confused and it shows on your face. His smile widens and he laughs. “I can keep complimenting you. If you want to end this, that is up to you, but I have so many compliments to keep giving you that I feel my heart will burst.”

His stupid and genuine laugh causes tears to well up in your eyes and fast as the knife feels heavy in your hand now. You chuck it a few feet away from you and immediately bury your face into his chest. Shanks is fast to wrap his arms around you so he can sit up with you in his lap. He remains quiet as he rubs your back gently, allowing you to gather your thoughts.

“I do not wish to end this at all. You stole my heart too, idiot. The second you said that stupid pick-up line I liked you. I’m sorry,” You murmur.

His face grows warm at the confession and he feels like he just won the biggest treasure in the world.

“Nothing to apologize for. If we keep up on our paths, I do not mind a game of cat and mouse with you. You are the only marine I would let capture me though,” He jokes.

Yes, he did not take your harsh actions to heart because, at that moment when you wanted to cause him harm, he still found you beautiful. If it were you to bring an end to his life, he would not regret anything.

[louiseleblancdiggory]

omg can you write more of rowan, aelin, nino and aurora? any scene is fine. it doesnt need to be in the SH plot

Ngl it took me a hot minute to understand that SH meant Safe Haven lol. I did a scene with all four of them, but it is not in the SH plot and I wrote it in like half an hour so the quality can be heavily questioned. I hope you still enjoy it though, my best friend gave the green light to post it

Hallway fights

--

“I’ll fucking kill you, Malik. Stop oogling my mom.” Nino was saying the moment they walked into the classroom. Everyone was already seated, and Mr. Whitethorn was pointing at something on the board. Immediately all the heads turned to them.

The class wasn’t too big, only ten people other than the two of them. Phedre and Evangeline were seated by the windows, two vacant seats in front of them. Marion, Mr. Salvaterre’s daughter, was seated by Killian. A few of his teammates from hockey, one girl that never bothered to talk to them— only avoid Malik—, and Josh.

The little bitch.

“Oh shit.” Malik whispered, but Nino knew everyone could still hear them. “I think we are late.”

“No?!” Nino mocked his best friend, his ears turning pink at all the attention both of them were receiving. He looked at Mr. Whitethorn apologetically. “We are so sorry, Mr. W. We thought we still had five minutes.”

“Nino is shit at math, the poor boy can’t count to save his life, that’s why.” Malik said, going to his seat by Phedre and Evangeline, both of which looked like they were trying very hard not to laugh. Nino gave Malik a slap on the back of the head, sitting down while his classmates giggled.

Mr. Whitethorn looked slightly amused, and Nino thanked the gods for his history teacher being so chill. If it had been Salvaterre he would be hanging from the ceiling by his underwear. “Do I even want to know?”

His tone left clear that it was a rhetorical question, but Malik was completely oblivious to it.

“I was telling Nino that he would be more attractive if he looked like his mom.” Nino shot him a look and Eva started laughing uncontrollably. “He’s butthurt because he knows it’s the truth.”’

Phedre flicked him on the back of the head while Eva tried to contain her laughter.

“Malik is right, you know.” Killian, one of Nino’s best friend and teammate added, a slow smile taking upon his face. His arm was around Marion’s shoulder. “Nino would be prettier if he looked like aunt Ace.”

“Can we please stop talking about my mom?” Nino grunted.

“But…” Malik started again, but was interrupted by Mr. Whitethorn.

“Yes, we will stop talking about Mr. Galathynius’s mom and focus on the class.” His voice was hard, but his face didn’t show any type of anger or annoyance. Being such a small school, Nino and his friends had had Mr. W for three years now, and would probably get him again next year. The guy was calm and his humor reminded him of his mother’s, so he instantly liked the classes. It was such a small one that Mr. W usually gave them more freedom than bigger classes would get, which was also fucking good.

Nino sent a thank you to the gods the moment Mr. W returned to the presentation, happy that the subject wasn’t on how his friends thought his mom was hot anymore.

He finally relaxed, thinking that now the day would go by without further problems.

——————————

He had gotten into a fight.

Her calm, smart son had gotten into a fight.

Aelin was more confused than angry when she received a call from the school asking her to come pick Nino up after classes were over because he had shoved another kid into a locker. Nino had been living with her for six years now, and he had never even raised his fist. For him to get into a whole fight was something so out of the blue that Aelin was extremely worried.

She took Aurora out of the car, the six year old clinging to her neck like a little monkey. Aurora was usually loud and booming with life in the privacy of their home. She had no problem talking to her family, to her brother’s much older friends or to her best and only friend Lachlan, but unknown places always made her retreat into herself.

Aelin’s heels clinked against the school’s floor. She had left work as quick as possible, picking Aurora up and going to Nino’s high school. She still wore her blue navy pants and blazer, a white button down underneath. Usually, when going to the kids’ school, she wore something more casual but she didn’t have the time to change.

When she approached the secretary’s desk, Aurora took her hand out of her mouth, saying a little hi to announce their arrival. The old woman looked up at them and Aelin smiled at her.

“I’m here for Dominique? Dominique Galathynius?” She asked the secretary, her smile becoming a little embarrassed. “He got into a fight earlier?”

“Oh! Nino.” The old woman exclaimed, a smile taking up her face. “Lovely boy, always stops by in the morning to say hello.”

Aelin smiled with no little amount of pride. Nino was one of the most polite people she had ever met, always making sure everyone got attention and was feeling comfortable. “I got a call to pick him up. Do you know where he would be?”

“I believe Mr. Whitethorn has taken the responsibility for the fight, so you could look in his history class. Room 163, go down the hall, two lefts and one right.” The secretary pointed to the hallway. “So unlike your boy to get into a fight.”

“Yeah, I know.” Aelin sighed. “I’ll go see what that was about. Thank you so much for the help.”

Aelin’s heels against the floor was the only sound until she reached the hallways that Mr. Whitethorn’s room was supposed to be. There, in front of a class, stood a small group of teenagers Aelin knew way too well considering the amount of time they spent at her house.

“Do I want to know what he did?” She asked, and all heads turned to her. A chorus of “Hi, aunt Ace” sounded, and Evangeline even stepped up to give her godmother a quick hug. Without warning, she took Aurora from Aelin’s arms, the little girl delighted to be in her cousin’s embrace.

“It wasn’t his fault, aunt Ace.” Malik said, his voice barely restrained with anger.

“Josh is a fucking scumbag.” Killian added, and Aelin knew his harsh tone wasn’t directed at her but Marion gave him a little slap on the chest anyways. He looked down at the girl and she signed say sorry with her hands. Killian smiled sheepishly at her and then at Aelin. “Sorry, auntie.”

Aelin turned to Phedre, knowing the girl was probably the only one calm enough to explain. She was completely surprised by seeing the girl shimmering with anger. “Kil is right, and so is Malik. Josh is an asshole and it wasn’t Nino’s fault.”

“It really wasn’t, aunt Ace.” Eva added, looking at Aelin even as Aurora played with her hair.

Aelin nodded. She believed her son’s friends. They had been an inseparable group for six years now, and Aelin knew each one of these kids as her own.

He had a busted lip, Marion signed, her hands moving slowly. All of her friends, Nino included, had learned how to use sign language so Marion wouldn’t feel left out. Aelin had started learning too, but she was slower than Nino or even Aurora. Just so you don’t look surprised when you get in.

“Thanks, Ma.” She nodded and knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

When Aelin stepped into the room, her eyes went immediately to her son. His face had a purple bruise on the left side, making his green eyes stand out more, and his upper lip was busted. His inky black hair was a mess, but beyond that he seemed fine. Tired.

“Hey, mom.”

“Hey, sweetheart.” She said, her voice soft. She turned to the teacher, staring at him a second too long before saying. “Hello, Mr. Whitethorn.”

“Ms. Galathynius. I wish we could have meet under more adequate circumstances.” He was talking and Aelin took the chance to look at him. Despite the whole situation, she couldn’t help but almost gape at how handsome her son’s history teacher was. His skin was tanned under his button down white shirt, the sleeves rolled back to reveal a tattoo that went from his left wrist and disappeared into the shirt. Mr. Whitethorn was extremely tall, and Aelin found herself needing to look up at his face even with her heels on. She eyed his toned body, broad shoulders, strong jaw and the lines that made up his face. Soft mouth, straight nose and pine green eyes looking directly at her, he looked like he belonged more on the cover of some magazine than in a history class.

“What happened?” She asked, shaking her head slightly. She had to focus on her son right now, not on his teacher.

“Your son pushed me into a locker and started punching my face.” The other boy, Josh, spoke. Where Nino had one bruise and a split lip, the other boy looked ten times worse.

She knew it wasn’t the ideal reaction, but a little smugness bloomed inside her chest.

“He was talking shit and bothering Eva.” Nino looked at his mom, his chin raising. “I won’t apologize for protecting my cousin.”

She gave him a barely perceptible nod, and his body relaxed. She turned again to Mr. Whitethorn, finding him staring at the two boys. “It’s the beginning of the hockey season and the middle of the football one. I don’t want to punish neither of you because I know it can affect your ability to participate in the games. But I hear about the two of you throwing punches on the hallways one more time and I will personally make sure that the two of you are out of the teams. Understood?”

The two boys nodded, and Aelin knew that her son wouldn’t be getting into fights anymore. At least not on school ground. Nino loved playing hockey with Malik and Killian way too much.

“The two of you are dismissed. I have called your mom already since she is traveling, Josh, and the other part of your problem will be dealt directly with Principal Blueblood. Ms. Galathynius, a word please.” He nodded at the boys as they got up to leave.

Aelin grabbed Nino’s arm as he passed by her. “Everyone is waiting outside.”

He nodded stiffly, whispering in her ear. “Am I in trouble?”

“You should be, shouldn’t you?”

He smiled, knowing his mom well enough to know what that meant. “I’m sorry you had to leave work early because of this.”

“Next time do it outside school grounds, Dominique.” She joked. “Your sister is outside. Were you planning on going home with everyone?”

“Yeah, movie marathon night. I have her seat in my car so I can take her with us while you talk to Mr. W.” Aelin nodded and Nino smiled, giving her a kiss on the forehead. He turned to his teacher and grinned. “Bye, Mr. W.”

“Don’t get into trouble, Dominique.” He said, but there was a small smile on his lips.

“I never do.” He responded, leaving the room.

Aelin and Mr. Whitethorn stared at each other in silence for a few seconds.

“He’s a great kid.” He said, gesturing for her to sit. “I was completely shocked when I heard he had gotten into a fight.”

“You and I both. I never saw Nino being even slightly aggressive outside the ice, Mr. Whitethorn.”

“Please, call me Rowan, Ms. Galathynius.”

“Then you can call me Aelin.”

Rowan gave her a small smile, sighing before he talked again. “Josh was making rude comments about Evangeline being adopted. Teasing her endlessly, and when Nino stepped up to help his cousin, Josh turned his attention to him. Repeated things he had said to Eva and included you in the conversation. Phedre told me he was barely containing his anger when Marion stepped up and put a hand on his arm, tugging him away. It would have probably ended at that if Josh hadn’t made fun of Marion for being mute. That’s when your son punched him.”

Aelin’s blood boiled and she was tempted to go punch the boy herself. She had taken Nino and Aurora in when she was still in college, barely twenty at the time. With her parents’ help along with Lys— who was Eva’s guardian since she was eighteen— and Aedion’s, she managed to raise Nino and Aurora. They were her kids as much as they would have been if she was their biological mom. She had always feared they would hear uncomfortable comments about it, but never thought it would be bad to the point that her calm boy would beat one of his classmates to a pulp.

Aelin also half wished she could see Lorcan punching the kid.

“Will I seem like a bad mom if I smile at the fact my son punched a boy to a pulp?” She genuinely asked, looking at Rowan.

His smile was warm, eyes glinting with humor. “No, but I’m a teacher so don’t tell anyone I said that.”

Aelin’s laughed was loud and bright.

——————————

Nino and his friends were watching his mom talk to Mr. W. They were going home, but Eva was curious to know if their teacher was pissed, so she looked through the little glass rectangle on the door. Then Malik and Phedre. Then Killian pulled Marion along and Nino had no option but follow, Aurora asleep while he held her in piggy back.

They watched Mr. W talking to her, his face relaxed. Watched as his mom answered. Watched in absolute confusion as he smiled at Nino’s mom and she threw her head back, laughing.

“Bro.” Malik said, sounding as if he had found the Holy Grail while he watched Aelin and Rowan talking and smiling. “I have a fucking idea.”

Tags:

@abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @maastrash @morganofthewildfire @queen-of-glass

[dreamerandcrazy]

Ok, so I haven't been able to comment much on my Riverdale rewatch mostly bc i'm watching it with my boyfriend and we have an agreement of no cell phones when we're watching, otherwise we can't pay proper attention to it. But I wrote down some notes about the episodes I did watch (I watched up until ep 6, which is very ironic bc apparently today is its anniversary, so yay for my perfect timing). I actually remember most of the stuff that happened in s1, so here's mostly a few things I paid more attention to or noticed about the characters and the ships, or things i'm able to look at through a different view now that i've watched all the seasons. Strap in if you want to see my notes, if not just scroll please, no ship or character hate here please. Also, feel free to ignore, this is really just a personal look in some stuff I didn't notice in my first watch.

- Betty's character used to be much happier and lighter in season 1. I know we're introduced to "Dark Betty" right in episode 3, but still, I feel like the way Lili played Betty in season 1 did not hold the same "darkness" as it does in the following seasons. The scene where she is dancing happily in her bedroom because she's going to homecoming with the boy she likes? The scene where she introduces Jughead to the Blue & Gold and gets him to work with her? Her genuine innocent happiness at seeing her sister again after so much time? The way she interacted with Kevin and Veronica? Those were all chef's kiss because she actually feels like a teenager in them. In all her girly glory, she radiates youth energy and it's a thing that was sadly lacking after s1. Btw this is not a critique at Lili's acting at all, I blame it entirely on Ras and his obsession with dark Betty.

- There's actually so many indications of Cheryl being a lgbt character in the first episodes that I have no idea how I missed it the first time. But then again, there were many indications with Veronica as well, and sadly that's not the path Ras chose for her.

- Jughead in s1 is truly so superior in so many ways that it's not hard to see why he quickly became such a fan favorite. I think even if he wasn't played by Cole Sprouse, he still would have conquered many fans' hearts. Sadly, the things that made Jughead such a loving and interesting character for me also fizzled out in s2 when the writing team decided to make him a woke serpent leader instead of allowing him to sticking to his true personality as a passionate mystery lover, a dedicated friend and very nerdy, which was very cute. I feel that we got some of that back for him in s4, which was good, but sadly s1 is where my love for him really stayed to stay. But I still care for him, and s5 has a promising storyline for him which i'm excited about, so let's see if s5 Jughead can become better than s1 Jughead.

- Going back again to Cheryl for a sec, I just noticed that the red lipstick actually wasn't that common for her in s1? At least not in the first five. I wonder when did it start becoming her trademark? Anyways, it's actually a really good look her and allows you to appreciate Madelaine's natural beauty even more.

- Also, did anybody notice how Alice lowkey figured out who killed Jason in ep 2 lmao, like... in episode two she legit says she wouldn't be surprised if the Blossoms themselves had killed Jason, which... is what happened LMAO, considering we know it was his father. And even more hilarious and tragically ironic note, in ep 6 she's laughing at Betty suggesting that Hal killed Jason because "do you think your father has the stomach for it?!"... Ma'am... i'm-.... 😂😂😂😂.

- This rewatch has reminded me of how much I adored and how I much I miss Josie and the Pussycats. The girls were such a nice addition to the cast, and their songs were so beautiful. I truly wish we get to see them again someday, but at the same time I also think the actresses deserve to be at a work place where they're given the treatment they deserve and not completely ignored and treated like extras.

- Archie/Valerie was super cute and is very underrated in the fandom, but i'm glad Valerie stood up for herself and didn't take any of Archie's or Cheryl's sh*t. Still sucks because they were really good together, though.

- Why was Jason not allowed to talk, lmao? Like, i'm sure it's become a running joke in the show at this point, but back when season one was airing what was the excuse for it? He appeared in so many flashbacks and scenes and we still never heard a single word ☠️☠️☠️☠️. I just want to know what was the reason lol.

- I liked s1 Reggie, but I feel like Charles Melton's Reggie is better because he actually feels like a douche with good intentions lol, and he has more of a personality. Most of the time I even forgot about Reggie in s1, but after s2 he definitely made me more aware of him. So for that, I like Charles Melton's Reggie more. But the actor from s1 still did a good job with what he was given.

From now on I will be talking about the ships, so bear with me, and know that I am a multishipper. Yes, I have my preferences. No, my word is not law, it's just an opinion, so please respect it.

- Bughead is still super cute in s1. I feel like from s1 they will always be my otp, even if I no longer feel as strongly about them now and have a different insight as to where I would like their story to go, and now I definitely see the problem others had mentioned before of how they kind of took over the show, which is something I kind of closed my eyes to before... But I really loved them in s1. It felt like a very juvenile teenage relationship, they didn't give much thought on why and if they should be together, they just went for it like teenagers usually do, and they were very very cute together.

- I feel like if you don't count Beronica (because they really were the best no matter what you say or ship), if there's a ship that deserves "best chemistry" award for s1 is probably Varchie. I lost my interest in them years ago, but this rewatch reminded me of why I actually loved them once. They never really became an otp for me, but Kj and Camila's chemistry in s1 was VERY GOOD, and I really liked them. Their kiss in the pilot was electric and the s&xual tension was OOF, and that chemistry carries on through the season. You can easily tell something will happen between them eventually. It makes me sad bc I don't know what happened after s1, but their chemistry from s2 onwards was just... not there for me. Which is ironic bc it's the season they truly started dating and they got a lot of smexy scenes, but I just... didn't feel it. But I'll leave that comment to my s2 rewatch. For now just let me enjoy Varchie's chemistry in s1 while it lasts because it was really good.

- Now we get to Barchie, who I made clear was the reason for my rewatch, so let's get to it. I LOVED the way Barchie was written in s1. I remember when I first watched Riverdale, I was curious about their dynamic but didn't put much thought into it because I loved Bughead too much and wanted them to be together, and I thought Barchie would be the traditional "first og ship" thing and wouldn't have a big follow up, but boy was I WRONG and am I GLAD for it. I'll talk more about their development in the next seasons when I get there, so for now let's focus a bit on s1. Just in like the first two episodes, there is so much Barchie foreshadowing, like, it's legit insane how it was right there in my face and I missed it the first time! "I have never felt what i'm supposed to feel with betty", "it's not my fault he doesn't like you", "I can't give you the answer you want"... Omg, those are obvious eyebrow raising "this will come back to bite you in the a$$" moments and it's incredible how they actually DO! I would call it clever writing, but like... it's Riverdale lol. So I really am just glad that the ship was done this way, i'm glad Barchie has the back story that they do, they've really come a LONG way and i'm happy I get to experience their whole growing storyline. It's also especially good because s1 actually provides you with scenes that show you their friendship and how they're so close, you see them hanging out, talking, their pictures together, everything was just really done well with them. Still have a bit of critique with the way Archie contradicted himself sometimes regardinf his feelings for Betty, but let's be honest, we've watched enough Riverdale to know that's just a problem with the writing.

- Kevin/Joaquin is still my favorite Kevin ship, i'm sad it's completely impossible to go back to them someday so for now i'll just be really glad it existed and that I got to see them even if it was short-lived. They had great chemistry and their kiss scenes always outsold.

- Beronica... sigh. Beronica. The most wasted chemistry i've ever seen on CW and I've watched a LOT of CW shows. There was so much potential there, s1 was practically overflowing with them and it's one of the reasons it became some popular. I remember when the Beronica fandom was the biggest one, ah, good times. Veronica and Betty were easily the best part of season 1, their friendship, their lowkey romantic moments, they were just superior in every way. This ship deserved better, not even just as a ship, but as a friendship.

- Veronica's s1 hair >>> Veronica's hair in seasons 2-4. I loved the side part and I am glad it's back in season 5, it looks so much better like that.

- Cheryl, as always, deserves better. Can't wait for her to meet Toni so I can watch again Cheryl finally get to love someone and be loved back, which is exactly what she deserves.

For now, that is all! I will probably make another post soon when i'm done with season one and from season two on I will be live-blogging the episodes since I will be watching it alone. Once again, pls, no hate, my thoughts are my thoughts. Peace.

[ibringyouasong89]

Self-Awareness Time, Part One:

So I’m reading this article one day, (see article here: https://psych2go.net/6-signs-youll-be-single-forever/), and realize how some of this is true, but also some of it is bullshit. Spoiler Alert: I haven’t had a boyfriend since I was 18.  Is it because I haven’t wanted to be with someone, or be in a relationship, since that one ended? Quite the contrary, actually. I have dreamed, since I was a small child, of a perfect soulmate for me, and that it would be a Disney-movie-ending come true for the rest of my life. Having my first (and since then, only) boyfriend break up with me (so he could go out with my ex-best friend, who in turn, dumped her boyfriend of three years - who was my childhood friend from elementary school - in order to be with him; it was dramatic, stupid, and messy, i.e. we were teenagers who thought they knew themselves but didn’t have a clue) did not, in fact, deter those dreams at all. The problem is that I didn’t learn to love myself. I learned to move on, which is always wonderful, but I didn’t hold myself in any higher esteem than I had before, and while I was with him. It wasn’t a reflection on being with him, but more or less, a reflection of myself and how I saw myself, based on my childhood and certain experiences. Fast forward a couple of years later: my parents are divorced, my father is dead, my childhood friends have disappeared out of my life for the most part, I live with my mother and grandfather (who was close to dying himself), and I am now living in a different state, faraway from everything I know and love and hate everything about this new place. I hated (and still do, for many of these points) the polluted environment, I hated the lack of nature (I moved to a metropolitan-region within the realm of a major city), I hated how crowded it is, I hated how everyone lives on top of one another; I hate the noise, the traffic, and most of all, I hated how alien and out of place I feel. I knew I didn’t belong, but because of finances, and having an ineffective bachelor’s degree (that didn’t come with a lifetime guarantee of having a career, as promised by my parents and elder generations. Though it did come with the nice guarantee of student loans), I was unable to move anywhere else. I was unable to be independent, financially or otherwise, and could do nothing to make my dreams a reality or to improve my life. In short, I was stuck. And hating every minute of it, along with myself. To be fair, I wasn’t an emotionally healthy person to start off with - but I mean, who is by the time they’re 23, 24 years old, and a culminating reflection of time, pressure, past abuse, parental issues, trust issues, abandonment issues, lack of socializing/being ostracized for being different, and self-worth and self-love issues? No one, and I mean, NO ONE, is taught how to love themselves, completely, as a child. I don’t care who raised you or where you grew up. This is a fundamental truth and fact. But I met someone. Lo and behold, there came this divine gift, one day, of someone who was just like me! He didn’t have the same issues as I, but he understood in a general sense (as any individual who has a certain degree of sympathy and empathy can do), and made me feel seen (even if I hated it at times). Someone who, in all honesty, has fundamentally changed me forever. And to think I met him at my job! (i.e. retail). This person...well, I thought he might’ve been THE ONE. I was really, REALLY in love with him. More so than I ever thought I could be with someone.  Our connection was real and based on emotional, mental, and spiritual intimacy (there was none of the physical, which was probably for the best, in the end), and I had never loved anybody before, in the entire history of being connected to family and friends, the way I had loved him. I thought he was truly something special - a gift from the universe that not only allowed to experience this once-in-a-lifetime kind of love, but also because of how OBVIOUS it was that we were meant for each other. (I was so arrogant back then and admit it heartily now). Well, suffice to say, it didn’t end in rainbows-and-sunshine-for-years-to-come. He had already been entering a relationship when I met him, while also having his heart broken by another girl. As the saying goes: wrong place and time. While I was busy pining over him and fantasizing about us being together romantically (after building this incredible connection and deep friendship), he was happily living his life and enjoying his relationship...even though, for a time, he went out of his way to spend time with me and deepen our emotional intimacy further. He told me things about himself, and his life, that he swore he had never told another human being before in his life. But it all came to a grinding halt one day - out of the blue - when he severed our connection with all of the swiftness and severity of a well-placed swing from a sharpened blade. Later he would confess that it wasn’t intentional - it was because he was busy cutting other people out of his life and I got caught up in the “crossfires” of it all via social media and the like *insert eyeroll here* - but that he had also been conscious of my burgeoning feelings for him, and felt “flattered” that I had come to regard him so greatly. He promised to re-open the lines of communication between us again and to be a better friend. Spoiler Alert Part Two: None of these promises were fulfilled. Now, some of you (or whoever reads this long-ass personal post) might say “Well, maybe in knowing about your feelings, THAT was why he didn’t bother talking to you anymore. It made him uncomfortable, especially since he was in a relationship with someone else. He just wanted to make a clean break.” To be completely honest, I was aware of that possibility from the get-go. The problem is that he claimed (during this period of seeking me out and spending quality time with me) his relationship with his girlfriend was “casual.” That he was more than aware that he was her first boyfriend, but that he knew it wouldn’t last. In knowing that, he still pursued a relationship with that girl (though his self-prophecy did come to pass...three years later). Now, there were never any promises made about entering a relationship with ME, as some of you may point out as well. I agree. There are, and never will be, any guarantees when it comes to the heart. Someone who learns to love another is quite capable of also learning how to un-love that same individual, at any time. And hatred, as many know, is not the opposite of love; apathy is its true counterpart.

No, what was truly hurtful was that he knew that truth, honesty, compassion, consideration, and genuineness were core values of mine. Values that I thought he shared...but turned out to be lies when he revealed his regard, or lack-there-of, for me in the end. When he did not confront me over my feelings for him and instead played ignorant for the sake of his own happiness. When he promised that this did not interfere with his ability to be my friend, even after confessing said romantic intentions to him, and probably lying about it all the same. He knew of my past, my issues, and had probably guessed at my level of loneliness and knew about my lack of friends since moving away from my hometown...and didn’t think twice of ditching me, nor of how his sudden “ignorance” about our bond would effect my feelings. That being “one of the guys” was my true status - despite the fact that I have breasts, a vagina, lack a penis, and had never acted in a “masculine way” around him (aside from being intelligent, having common sense, being interested in comic books, music, and movies, having a deep appreciation for classic muscle cars, and a biting sense of sarcasm); i.e. no hanging out in bars with him and his male friends, no doing stupid shit for giggles, no running around in the middle of the night to each other’s houses to smoke pot and drink in the basement, not being into sports and wrestling, recalling the same stupid stories from high school and retelling them, over and over again, along with the same stupid jokes, etc...And I’m not judging any female (or person) who does DO this, or enjoy these things! I’m just simply describing how he, and his friends, acted and what their similar interests are. I was “friend-zoned” (which is a ridiculous phrase, but I can’t think of anything else to describe it as), but was NOT treated like a friend any longer. I was treated like a stranger or an acquaintance that you remember vaguely seeing in the hallways and cafeteria when you attend your high school reunion (that guy who makes you go “Oh, *Insert Name Here*! Omg! How are you?! Wow, it’s been a while! Great to see you lost all that weight! So uh...how’s things?”). In short: I was being gas-lit. For anyone who has experienced this, you have my deepest sympathies and my ear and shoulder, whenever you would like. Of course part of the blame falls on me too: for treating romantic love like a drug I couldn’t live without, for depending on someone too much for my happiness, and for allowing myself to be treated as someone who is less than worthy of real love, respect, consideration, kindness, compassion, and honest, open communication.

So, not only did this guy break my heart, but he also threw me, and our friendship, away like it all meant nothing. It became obvious then that I, and our bond, had never mattered to him at all.  The worst part is that he continued to flirt with me, stringing me along (unknowingly or not), while also maintaining this enforced distance! (Which is also COMPLETELY WRONG TO DO TO ANYONE!) In truth, I think he’s an unaware narcissist who doesn’t realize, on an unconscious level, how manipulative he can really be. It’s sad. But I know, without wishing for it or egging the universe on, that there is a lesson waiting for him in the wings of the cosmos that will enable him to truly understand the lows, and highs, of true personal awareness (if it should come to pass - anything is possible, in any way, shape, or form). But back to the point: In conclusion, my soul was shattered. My heart was a destroyed. I fell into a depression based, not only on this heartbreak, but also my heart being broken by ME. I was so unhappy with everything going on, and not, in my life and it all felt so hopeless and pointless. I could see no path forward, no future for myself, that didn’t result either in me being unhappy or being unstuck. (Hell, even writing about all of this is allowing the phantom pains to rise from their graves in my heart, which makes me realize how much healing, and self-love, I still have to gain). This, however, was the beginning of my awakening for me.

It dawned on me like the rising sun within me that I really SHOULDN’T put stock into having people depended upon so much to MAKE me happy. I should be making MYSELF happy. But then the deepest question, out of the pit of darkness within my soul, arose: Why WASN’T I happy with myself?

[dawninlatin]

Online classes are the worst

A manorian teacher AU

Words: 1381

AO3: Click here

Based on the prompt:

Teacher AU: When you realize Person A and Person B have the same background during zoom class and holy shit they are living together!?

By @perseannabeth​ (omg I hope you’re okay with me using this, if not please let me know!)

Manon was installed in her office - laptop open and an iced coffee next to her - currently giving a lecture in organic chemistry. She knew half of the class wasn’t paying attention. Knew that the muted microphones and turned-off cameras meant the student was scrolling down TikTok or sleeping or not even in the same room as their computer. But as long as she got through her lesson undisturbed, she didn’t care. It wasn’t her fucking problem if they didn’t want to learn. Organic chemistry was awesome.

Online classes was a challenge though. Manon needed to be in a physical classroom, needed to have a chalkboard to write on, needed to pace around, needed to do crazy and borderline dangerous experiments.

She had been a high school teacher for 6 years now, and she loved her job - most days, at least - but her students could never know that.

In those 6 years she had built herself a reputation of being the uncaring, cold and slightly manic science teacher. This was naturally because she had learned that the teens respected her if they were terrified of her. Nothing would beat the look of pure horror mixed with awe she had seen on the faces of twenty 16 year olds that one time she poured ethanol on her desk and then lit it on fire.

But now, instead of getting to do those kinds of experiments, she was confined to a small office in her small home, with nothing but a laptop to teach her students. It was driving her crazy.

Even if she preferred teaching in a physical classroom, Manon had to admit, she had gotten the hang of Zoom pretty quickly. They were only in their second week of online classes after all.

This lesson was going great, all things considered, at least until a message from Kyle Williams popped up on her screen. She couldn’t stop the look of horror on her face as she read it.

Kyle: Wait…isn’t that the same bookshelf Mr. Havilliard was sitting in front of yesterday?

Nora: OMG

Nora: It is!!!!!

Omar: Are they living together??

Manon tried ignoring the chat, tried continuing with her lecture, tried stopping the blush that was currently spreading on her face.

Kyle: Are they dating or something?

Ellen: I bet they’re sleeping together…

Ellen: Or what if they’re secretly married???

Freddie: Come on, can you imagine Ms. Blackbeak married to someone?

Kyle: And Mr. Havilliard of all people…

Theo: So they are sleeping together then?!

Nora: EW! I don’t wanna imagine them sleeping together…

She wanted to die. She had to quit her job, had to leave town, had to go away…she could never step foot in her classroom ever again…

Ellen: But now that you mention it, they always look at each other really weird

Theo: And they are staying in the same house atm…

Omar: What if they have kids?!

Freddie: Ms. Blackbeak does not have kids

Freddie: I have never even seen her smile, imagine her with Mr. Havilliard

Jenna: I’m freaking out over here…

Kyle: Omg, now I can’t stop imagining them having sex…

That was enough, she needed to end this before she died of humiliation. Then she needed to say goodbye to her loved ones, because she would be imprisoned for life for murdering a bunch of teenagers.

While closing the chat window - and ignoring the sound of countless more messages - she schooled her features back into a bored look. «Okay, that’s enough for today.»

The messages abruptly stopped, and Manon couldn’t help the smirk spreading on her face, beet read as it was. «I want you to spend the rest of the lesson reading through the chapter on organic chemistry, and then I want a 2000 word paper on a subject you find interesting in that chapter delivered to me by Monday.»

Writing a paper hadn’t been part of her plan, but she needed to do something to make her students suffer, if only to stop herself from committing murder.

Manon ended the meeting, not bothering with the groans and complaints coming from her students. She had to quit her job now, anyway…

She shut the laptop, pushed her chair back from the desk, leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

«FUCK!»

-

Dorian was sitting at the kitchen table, grading book reports when he heard his girlfriend curse loudly, before marching across the hall and slamming the bedroom door shut. He silently counted to ten before standing up and following her.

Opening the door, he found that Manon was already lying under the cover, ignoring his presence. Dorian was curious to what had put her in such a mood - wasn’t she supposed to have a lecture right now? - but he knew his girlfriend, knew he needed to wait until she was ready to talk about whatever was wrong.

These past two weeks had been hard on them, but Manon especially. Not only because of the virus, he thought to himself. Dorian was doing okay, he didn’t mind staying inside, and he’d gotten a lot more time to read lately, but Manon wasn’t like him. She hated staying inside, hated sitting still. She might not admit it, but he knew the lockdown was challenging for her.

While slipping of his jacket, he padded over to their bed, laying down beside her. He gave her a few seconds to tell him to fuck off, before scooting closer and putting his arms around her when she stayed silent. She sighed at the contact, pulling the covers down slightly so he could see part of her face.

«Apparently, Kyle fucking Williams is in your English class, because during my science lecture today he noticed we use the same room.» Hearing the anger and annoyance in her voice, Dorian tried his best not to laugh, but as she gave him a deadly glare, he knew he had failed.

«Is it so bad? That they know, I mean.»

Manon groaned, burying her face in the covers once again. «I’m so embarrassed,» she said, her voice muffled.

Dorian let out a small chuckle, pulling her closer. Manon had been clear from the beginning of their relationship about how they couldn’t be seen together at work. He had been a little unsure of hiding it, but she had assured him that this was all about her, and all about her reputation at school, so Dorian respected her wishes. Manon wasn’t comfortable with displaying affection publicly in the same way that he was. She kept her feelings to herself, and those that were the closest to her. And Dorian had to admit, he kinda liked being the only one she truly opened up to. The only one who saw her smile and laugh and being giddy with love. It made him feel special. Even if he wanted to shout from the rooftops how much he loved Manon Blackbeak.

«It’s forgotten in a few weeks,» he said to her in an attempt to lure her out of her hiding spot.

«They’ll never listen to me again,» she complained, her head now peeking out.

Dorian pressed a light kiss to her forehead. «You’ll be just as awesome and just as scary as before, promise.»

She rolled her eyes in answer. «Why should I trust you?»

«Because you love me?» He poked her lightly in the side, now determined to make her smile.

Manon shook her head, murmuring something that sounded like «not in the slightest» into the thick blanket.

«You’re adorable right now, you know that?» Dorian teased, peppering her face with kisses. He expected her to bat his hand away, but she only leaned into his chest, sighing in defeat.

«You’re not making the situation any better right now…»

«You’ll be fine. Besides-,» he trailed his hands down her body, to her stomach, and the small bump that had begun to form, «they’ll definitely know in six months, cause we’ll have a baby then.»

Manon turned around so she faced him, a small smile finally playing on her lips. Dorian met her eyes, and found himself slightly taken aback by the amount of love and adoration he felt for this woman. «I love you,» he whispered against her lips.

«I love you too,» she whispered back, her mouth meeting his.

A/N: Hey!

I am sory for the mess that is this fic, I don't even know what I'm doing anymore, I need sleep...

Also, I'm sorry for not writing a new chapter of Queen of Peace, but that chapter will take time, and time is something I do not have atm, sooooo, I will try and update it on Friday:)

If you bothered reading all of it, congrats, I stan<3

I love reading your comments, so feel free letting me know what you think:)

Also did anyone get the vine reference...? God I really should sleep...

*lots of smoochies*

-Dawninlatin<3

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #465

“the old man then prepares to die regretfully  /  that old man here is me”

Did you have a boyfriend in kindergarten? No, but I had a guy who wouldn't leave me alone since pre-k. Did you ever read the Magic Treehouse series? OMG I forgot about those!! I loved them!!! Did you ever watch The Land Before Time movies? AHHHHHHHHH yes!!! :') Did you collect anything when you were a kid? Stickers. My dresser was COMPLETELY covered in them. Who did you look up to most as a child? Steve Irwin, 100%. He was my hero. Did your parents let you drink soda when you were little? Some, yes. I wish they hadn't, with the dependency I have now. Did you ever watch The Powerpuff Girls or Dexter’s Laboratory? Of course! I strongly preferred the former, though. Did you watch Blue's Clues? HOW TIMELY. :'''') I did! My little sister and I loved it. What was your favorite kind of cake as a kid? Just gimme a good 'ole double chocolate cake and I was one happy kiddo, ha ha. Did you ever want to grow up? Sure didn't. I was smart. How often do you listen to classic rock? It varies, really. Sometimes I'm in the mood for it and binge it, other times I want newer music. What about country? Just about never. What is the most amount of money you have ever lost? Not a whole lot. I'm very careful with money. Have you ever hurt yourself just to get attention? No. Whenever I did it in the past, it was always to relocate the pain I was experiencing, and because I felt like I deserved it. Last person to get on your nerves? I'd rather not give it the time of day. Are you in any pain right now? No. Last thing you ate? It was one of those chocolate chip Clif Thins things. I HATE every Clif product I've ever tried until these, so they're a good option if I really want something sweet that's actually decently healthy and doesn't taste like I'm eating pure fiber, like most of their products. Name three things apart from trust and loyalty that you need in a relationship. Open, honest communication, similar interests as well as morals, and pro-LGBTQ+, if I'm just naming three. How far away are you from the place that you were born? Like... not even ten minutes. Do you live near anybody who creeps you out? Nah. Then again though I know pretty much nobody in my neighborhood. Is there anywhere that you are too afraid to go to alone? Where? Hm. If for whatever strange reason I had to, I would absolutely not want to go into a men's restroom alone. Would you be upset if you had a child who decided to make “adult films?” Despite the fact I don't negatively judge porn stars if they are smart, cautious, an informed about what they do and how to stay safe... I think I'd be very, very scared if my child wanted that, especially if it was my daughter, because she can actually get pregnant. Yes, abortion's an option, but... still. I don't want her to have to be faced with that decision. I also would be terrified of my hypothetical son getting someone pregnant, especially because he's then not the one with say on what happens to that child. So ultimately, if I was ever in this situation, I feel like I'd need to be alone with my partner to just cry for a while and then talk with them and look at the situation factually and with regard for my child's happiness. What pizza topping would you never, ever, EVER eat? Sardines. /gag What annoys you most about your computer? The microphone is broken. Do you prefer to read blogs or watch vlogs? I'm not huge on either, but watch vlogs. Do you know anyone who doesn’t celebrate Christmas? No. Do you own a snowglobe? I wish I did, they cute. What was the last thing that upset you? It was more disappointing than upsetting, but I was nevertheless super bummed that my bf had to scoot us hanging out a day back today when I was v excited for it. What is something you are behind on? It sounds unbelievable, I know, but I am IMMENSELY behind with Meerkat Manor: Rise of the Dynasty. Like, I'm somewhere around four episodes in. It's so hard to explain: like, I want to watch it badly, but I don't want to set aside time to sit in front of the TV to actually do it? It makes very little sense. I'll catch up eventually, I just... haven't yet. Who DO you go to for advice when you need it? Mom, Sara, my therapist... Will you go caroling this year? God no. Never have, never will. Would you ever be friends with someone who was suicidal? Bro what the fuck, of course I would. Would you rather have a daughter or a son? Daughter. Did you get bullied more as a child, a teenager, or an adult? I'm very grateful that I was never truly bullied. If you’re female, would you feel uncomfortable having a male gynecologist? FUCK YES. Are you allergic to your favorite animal? I wouldn't know; I've never been near one. :( What’s your favorite country besides the USA? Lol what a presumptuous question. Probably Africa. Did you get senior pictures taken? No, even though I wanted them. :/ I don't remember why I didn't? How often do you like to have sex? I don't care. Whenever it feels right. Are you any good at math? OH MY GOD NO Do you like Dairy Queen? I fucking love Dairy Queen. Ever had their Oreo Cupfection? *chef's kiss* If you had to get advice from someone of the opposite sex, who would you go to? Girt. Or my psychiatrist. Really depends. Does talking about sex make you feel uncomfortable? GODDAMN RIGHT IT DOES. Few things make me MORE uncomfortable. Are you more scared of going to the doctors or dentists? Doctors. Dentists are ezpz for me. At the doctor, meanwhile, I'm scared of them finding something seriously wrong. Do you get along with your significant other’s friends? I've only met one, and that was YEEEEAAARRRRSSS ago. He was chill, though. Do you enjoy the sound of crickets at night and birds in the morning? omfg YES Do you enjoy board games? Not really. Do you need a haircut? I actually just got one the other day. It's shorter than I would've liked, but it's whatever. Hair grows back, and mine does fast. Do you feel bad when you kill bugs? Yes. They've got the same right to be here as we do. What’s the longest stretch of time you’ve spent completely alone? A week or two when my mom and sis went to the beach (I think?) for a dance competition. Have you ever been in a situation where you needed a lawyer? Yes, when I presented my disability case. Do you know anyone who has been evicted? My mom, sister, and me because we couldn't keep up with rent. What’s your favorite macaron flavor? Never tried one. How often do you have friends over to your house? The only "friend" that comes over to my house is my boyfriend. Have you ever done a flip on a trampoline? Front flips, yes; never back flips, because I was scared of breaking my neck. What about a flip off of a diving board? No. Does your country have free healthcare? No, but it fucking should. What is your sexuality? Bro I don't even know anymore lmao. I just say pansexual. "Queer" might fit me best, though. I really don't know, but it doesn't really matter. What’s the last show you watched? Attack on Titan w/ Girt! I'm actually keen to see more of it. The darkness and heartbreak of it is right up my alley. How is your road rage? I don't really experience road rage because I'm too engulfed by terror to focus on anything else, honestly. Do you have any facial piercings? Yeah; I have a vertical labret in my lip. Have you ever been to a rehab center? So this is dumb as shit, but all the psych hospitals I've been to doubled as rehab centers. Which made NO goddamn sense because those who are suffering with mental illnesses leading to suicidal thoughts/tendencies are unique from those dealing with addiction; both require individual treatments and should not be grouped, imo. How long did your shortest relationship last? Not even a day. What would your life be like if you had married your first love? That's... scary to imagine. Sometimes, that was all I wanted. But seeing as he left because of my depression... it probably would have been catastrophic. He was the only person I ever wanted kids with, so there probably would have been children involved in all that madness, which no little one deserves. Him leaving ultimately led to my healing, too, so I don't know where I would've been mental health-wise if he stayed. What is the most difficult or time-consuming thing you’ve ever cooked? Would you make it again? I don’t cook. I need to learn, though... Have you ever had a platonic friend that everyone insisted you should be in a relationship with? He's my boyfriend now, ha ha ha. Is there anything about a person’s sexual past that might stop you from wanting to date them? Yes. I'm too lazy to get into that stuff rn, though. If someone asked your closest friends/family members what career path might suit you best, what do you think they would say? I'm almost certain they would all say veterinarian. How did you and your significant other celebrate your last anniversary? Slow down buddy, we haven't even been together a month lmao. Who was the last person to make you a home-cooked meal? What did they make? Mom, but I don't recall the last thing she made from scratch. Girt is doing that tomorrow, though! :') He's making grilled chicken stuffed with jalapenos and spinach and something else I can't remember and it sounds BANGIN'. What’s the weirdest, rudest, or most ridiculous thing a guest has ever done in your home? Hmmm... I'll have to get back to ya on that. Has anyone ever told you you’re manipulative? I think someone has, yes. Do you know anyone who owns their own business? Yep. Who was the recipient of your very first kiss? Jason. Do you prefer shrimp or crab? SHRIMP. Crab is mushy and disgusting. Do you prefer fiction or non-fiction books/movies? I strongly prefer fiction. Have you ever seen an eclipse? Plenty of lunar eclipses, yes. Who is your favourite video game character? Pyramid Head, Spyro, Cynder... I have a lot, those three are just panning out as strong contenders. Are you the type of person who knows exactly what they want in life? lol Do you have commitment issues? Not at all. What was the last thing you felt nostalgic about? uhhh Does anyone in your family smoke? My dad. Have you ever had a pet escape and run away? OMG one time in his prime, Teddy got loose on a snowy night and went on a full-blown adventure. I was SOBBING. My dad had to chase him down. Do any of your exes know each other? Juan knows Jason, Jason knows Juan and Girt, and Sara knows Girt. What’s an opinion you find impossible to take seriously? "Vaccines cause autism." Fuck out my face. What was the very first election you voted in? This most recent presidential one.

[artificialqueens]

Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor, 11 (Branjie) (and background everyone) - Ortega

a/n: omg HI u lovely lot i’m so sorry this update took so long!!! thank you all so much for your lovely feedback on the last chapter and for being so patient with me. hope this chapter’s worth the wait- it’s BLACKPOOL BABEYYYYY!!! will Vanessa and Brooke get that perfect score???

fic summary: Strictly Come Dancing enters its 18th series and its producers, after being goaded by a rival dance show on its inclusivity, commission it to be an all-female cast. Unlike Akeria who’s just here to bone her potential dance partner, dancer Vanessa is ready to act like a professional.

And then TV presenter Brooke Lynn walks into the rehearsal room.

***

21st November 2020

“Someone was havin’ some nasty-ass sex this mornin’.”

Vanessa watches Crystal almost spit out the water she’s currently glugging down after their full cast dress rehearsal. If she hadn’t just finished her own bottle Vanessa would’ve probably done the same. Akeria’s comment is casual but Vanessa knows her enough to work out its intentions; she wants to know who’s banging, specifically who did so in the last eight hours.

Crossing her legs, Vanessa thinks back to the day she’s spent with Brooke Lynn so far. Obviously the events of the morning are still playing on her mind, fresh and still searing hot like lava. But after that it was almost as if they had been on another date. They’d headed out into the crisp, bright morning and grabbed breakfast at a nearby cafe, where the tables were sticky and the menus were stained and the ketchup bottle had rings of old sauce around the outside. They had both ordered matching fry-ups and Brooke had tried black pudding for the first time, claiming it didn’t taste as bad as it looked.

“If we get picked for the tour just wait. I’m gonna make you try haggis when we get to Glasgow. It’s fuckin’ horrible,” Vanessa had teased her, Brooke fake-gagging and making her laugh.

Then they’d had a walk along the beach, the cold stinging their faces and the wind whipping at their hair and making Vanessa wish they could just hold hands without the fear of being caught by someone videoing them on their phone. It had still been nice to share it with Brooke, though, and before they’d had to be at rehearsals they’d gone to the arcade and played on the penny falls machines, Vanessa laughing at Brooke as she got way too excited because “it’s like real life Tipping Point!”.

And now Brooke is sitting beside her, calm and composed as Akeria brings up the sex that Vanessa is still recovering from which was apparently so noisy and loud that it managed to wake her up.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Gigi says all too quickly, which piques Vanessa’s interest and makes her wonder why she’s so quick to rush to denial.

“Nope. Neither,” Jan shakes her head, the clear attempt to make her face look impassive not fooling Vanessa in the slightest. Narrowing her eyes, Vanessa casts an eye over a guilty-faced Monique and Monet.

She’s starting to question whether or not she and Brooke were the only ones that got some action this morning.

Brooke herself has got a small smirk on her lips as she opens her mouth to speak. “How did you guys not hear that? It was so loud. Sounded like somebody having the best sex of their life.”

Vanessa almost chokes on her own tongue in her desperate attempt not to react. Akeria is nodding emphatically.

“This morning? I must’ve been out for my run,” Jackie shrugs nonchalantly. She’s got the best poker face out of them all.

“It was somebody really whiny,” Brooke adds casually. Vanessa slowly turns her head and narrows her eyes at her. Brooke raises her eyebrows, tilts her head innocently. “You hear it, ‘Ness?”

Vanessa kind of wants to melt because she that’s how she feels every time Brooke calls her that and she loves it, but also she’s winding her up too much and Brooke must know Vanessa wants to clap back about how Brooke wasn’t complaining at the time, or how whiny she’d been when Vanessa had been teasing her with her fingers and whispering in her ear.

“Jeez, I mean, I must’ve been in the shower.”

“No, I think you would’ve been able to hear it.”

“What name’d they call out?” Asia shrugs. Brooke’s reaction is visceral- Vanessa watches her give a sort of panicked cough.

“What?”

“Well. You girls hear ‘em yell a name? That’ll give a lot away.”

Most of the girls are silent and holding their breath. Crystal, Gigi, Jan, Jackie, Monet, Monique, Vanessa, each one hoping their own worst or best-kept-secret isn’t spilled. Even Brooke who was gleefully winding Vanessa up moments ago has fallen mute and is looking at Akeria quietly. Vanessa’s brain is flicking through a rolodex of snapshots of the morning she and Brooke shared, trying to pinpoint any specific moment where either of them had begged the other just a little too loudly.

Akeria, for her part, gives a sniff and a shrug. “Hmm. Nah. Just moaning.”

“Well whoever it was, I hope they had some lovely sex,” Crystal babbles, her face guilty as sin as she finishes buckling up her dance shoes. She’s laughing nervously as she desperately tries to move the conversation along. “God, when will this band be ready? Like, how long does it take to tune a trumpet? Right?!”

Monique enthusiastically jumps in and agrees, and the conversation is dropped. Although Vanessa still tilts her head at Brooke questioningly and, as the girls become embroiled in a new conversation, she leans into Brooke’s side and whispers to her.

“If you think I ain’t gonna make you pay for that later, you’re wrong,” she murmurs, keeping her eyes trained on the other girls.

“Cute that you think you’re going to make me pay for anything, it took me what, two minutes to make you crack?” Brooke replies, and Vanessa can hear the smile in her voice. Vanessa, once again, can’t resist (it’s becoming a theme) and she turns her head to meet Brooke’s eyes, the twinkle in them still sparkling relentlessly.

“Whiny? Really, bitch?”

Brooke tips her head back casually. “I know we’re dancing to Let’s Get Loud but you know that’s just a song title, not an instruction, right?”

Vanessa tries to stifle a giggle, attempting to maintain her unimpressed charade. When Brooke looks at her again the endeavour fails, and they both end up laughing together. As their laughter dies down, Brooke sighs and Vanessa watches her pick a little at her outfit. They’re both in co-ordinated showgirl costumes- Vanessa’s green, Brooke’s pink- and even though Brooke objectively looks incredible Vanessa can tell she doesn’t feel entirely comfortable.

“Hey. You good?”

Brooke sighs. “This is just very…out of my comfort zone. I’m a TV presenter, God, I’m pretty sure the BBC would rather I was just a floating head half the time. No limbs, no boobs, no butt, no skin. Maybe a skeleton, actually. I’m just not used to getting my legs out. Or…anything out, really.”

Vanessa feels herself frowning in concern, a little embarrassed at how quickly she rushes to boost Brooke’s confidence. “Hey, listen. If you don’t feel like you’re fuckin’ sex on legs after this morning- shit, scratch that, every damn day- then I’m not doin’ my job right. You look perfect.”

Under the orange lights of the ballroom and the sparkle of the glitterball Vanessa swears she sees Brooke blush a little. She smiles and touches Vanessa’s arm gently. “Remind me what I did to deserve you?”

“Nothin’, you just ran off with my heart on that induction day an’ never gave it back,” Vanessa sticks her tongue out at her. Brooke grins and Vanessa wants nothing more than to lean in and kiss her right there and then, in fact she swears that Brooke’s edging closer to her and maybe they could just give each other a small kiss, maybe everyone else would be too distracted, maybe-

“And here we have one couple who keeps saying that they’re Definitely Not Romantically Involved With Each Other At All,” comes a voice, and Vanessa realises who it is as Yvie sits herself down on the chair beside her, filming a video on her phone. Vanessa covers her face in embarrassment.

“Delete that,” Brooke says, and just by her tone Vanessa can tell she’s rolling her eyes.

“Why? Too on the nose?” Yvie laughs, and as Vanessa looks up again she can see Brooke fixing her with an unimpressed glare. Yvie sighs, sulks and stops filming. “Fine! Fine, God. But you know if you had nothing to hide, you wouldn’t want me to delete it.”

“Listen, you just think everybody is as loved up as you are because you’re so happy with Scarlet. How is she, by the way? She coming up to watch you or has she got filming?”

Vanessa relaxes, impressed with Brooke’s ability to steer the conversation off course as Yvie is happily distracted by talking about her girlfriend. While Yvie speaks about Scarlet and gushes about how amazing she is and how lucky she feels to be with her and how she never thought she’d find a girlfriend through a TV dance show, Brooke makes sure to bump her knee a little bit against Vanessa’s with each new compliment, a little gesture that speaks so many words without Brooke having to say anything at all and lights Vanessa up from the inside out, so much so that she feels like the glitterball hanging from the ceiling, sparkling and dazzling.

Rehearsals soon end and the girls all move into the green room backstage to chat about nothing in particular, laugh at the top of their lungs like teenagers at the back of a bus, and eat tiny amounts of pizza that they’ll finish after their performance when it’s cold. Vanessa’s heart is so full she feels as if it might burst because she’s here, she gets to dance in the tower ballroom on the biggest TV dance show in the country. Okay, she’s danced here before- for competitions and showcases- but tonight she’s getting to do it with Brooke. Vanessa feels silly for having that mean so much to her. They’ve only been seeing each other for about a fortnight and she shouldn’t feel this deeply, but every time she tries to self-regulate and pull her feelings back Brooke ruins her plans with a smile, or a burst of laughter, or a squeeze of her shoulder or her leg that turns Vanessa to jelly and puts her right back in her feelings again.

Again. As if she could ever possibly be out of them when she’s with Brooke.

It’s not long until the audience all file into their seats and the ballroom lights go down, and Vanessa’s heart is almost beating out of her chest as Brooke gives her a quick kiss on the cheek for luck in the dark of the heavy curtains backstage. As she makes her way to the middle of the dancefloor with the other pros ready to begin their dance, Vanessa can’t even bring herself to wonder if anyone saw the moment they’d just shared because under the hot yellow lights and the huge glittering orb hanging from the ceiling and surrounded by the ornate gold that seemed to decorate every inch of the ballroom, Vanessa simply feels giddy and light just like any other infatuated girl.

“Live from the Tower Ballroom…this is Strictly Come Dancing!”

The music from the band blares, the audience breaks out in cheers, and even though she’s in Blackpool Vanessa feels as if she’s home. The pro dance this week is full of joy and sparkle, and as she dances Vanessa’s smile reflects on the faces of the five other girls she’s dancing with. It’s not her performance smile, nor is it a fake one; her face is radiating genuine joy, sunbeams that she hopes light up even the living rooms of whoever’s watching. When Brooke and the other celebrities join them for the last part of their dance Vanessa gravitates towards her and they snap together in hold. She can feel the excitement pulsing through Brooke’s veins as she takes her hand, and they’re smiling at each other with such ferocity that they end up giggling for the last section of the dance. On the final beat of the song they all freeze together, and Vanessa rests her head on Brooke’s chest as she relaxes. There’s golden confetti raining down on them and a little piece nestles itself in Brooke’s blonde locks of hair that Vanessa never wants her to brush out.

“Blackpool,” she hears Brooke murmur above her, so nearly inaudible she’s panting so much.

Vanessa looks up at her, cheeks hurting from her grin. “Blackpool.”

The girls all run off to get changed into their individual dance costumes they had worn before. Vanessa is glad that Brooke seems a little more confident in her outfit; she doesn’t know whether her new-found self-assuredness is down to Vanessa’s pep talk earlier or the adrenaline rush of performing, but she’ll take happy Brooke over nervous Brooke whatever the reason. Brooke looks the best out of all the girls- okay, Vanessa knows she’s biased, and in fairness everyone looks amazing. Crystal and Gigi are done up as little astronauts for their Salsa to Cosmic Girl, huge perspex space helmets over their heads with their faces covered in glittery highlight and little stars. Asia and Akeria look like early 00’s girlband members in matching green camouflage cargo pants and black bodysuits. They’re doing some sort of cool thing with aerosol cans for their Commercial dance to Scandalous and Vanessa’s promised Kiki that she’ll get into a good position in the auditorium to watch them both.

Although as everybody begins to dance, Vanessa slowly becomes less excited and more nervous. She mentally repeats each couple’s score in her head like some sort of meditational mantra- Yvie and Jaida 29, Akeria and Asia 37, Jan and Jackie 36. They range from unthreatening to panic-inducing, and as she and Brooke make their way backstage while Crystal and Gigi’s VT plays, Vanessa can feel the anxiety climbing in her throat, can feel her feet shaking in her shoes with every step.

“Hey,” Brooke stops suddenly in the darkness, her tone concerned and a little worried frown set on her face. “I can feel you worrying. What’s the matter?”

Brooke is beginning to thread her hand in Vanessa’s own, and she accepts. She already feels it grounding her, but her breathing is still shallow and her stomach is still in knots. “Just these scores…fuck, Brooke Lynn, I want us to be on top so bad. I want you to be on top so bad.”

“Yeah, you seemed to like it earlier,” Brooke winks at her, as Vanessa instantly realises what she’s said. She splutters a laugh, clamps her hand over her mouth in case they’re picked up over the microphones even though Vanessa knows there’s no way they could be. Brooke’s smile softens as she takes Vanessa’s other hand, swings them a little.

“Look. Do I care about being top of the leaderboard? Sure! But this, this whole thing has become less about the competition for me and more about getting to dance with you every week. Knowing we can go out there and be amazing no matter what the judges say, knowing I can showcase your amazing choreo and bring it to life, and being able to show you off and watch you be talented and incredible and clever. If we get the scores, we get the scores. But even if we don’t I want you to know that there’s nobody else I’d rather dance with, nobody else I’d rather be sharing this journey with. You’ve made it so special for me just because you’re you.”

Vanessa feels herself lean into Brooke’s touch as she takes a little curl that’s framing her face and tucks it behind her ear. She can feel something tumble and fall gently inside her- maybe she’s developing more feelings or maybe it’s a barrier breaking, she doesn’t know- and in that moment she throws caution to the wind and pulls Brooke in, their lips meeting softly as Crystal and Gigi start their dance through the curtain beside them. Vanessa’s heart thuds in her ribcage as she thinks about the fact that that’s all that’s separating them from the ballroom and the cameras and the millions of viewers. If the curtain were to fall…

She melts into the kiss and she can feel her anxieties melting away; Brooke is a gentle wave on the shore and Vanessa is sand and the occasional broken piece of shell, shifting under her and allowing herself to be drawn in. As Brooke pulls away Vanessa pouts her lips in disappointment, so Brooke gives her one, two, three little pecks before stepping back for good this time.

“Better?”

Vanessa can feel her pulse racing, but this time it’s excited nerves rather than anxious ones. She fixes Brooke with a little smile. “Yeah. Better.”

“Okay. That being said, let’s go get that top spot.”

The audience cheer Crystal and Gigi, and Vanessa’s skin prickles as she realises she and Brooke Lynn are dancing soon. They make their way to the wings where they’re met by a runner who eventually shows them out onto the floor. Vanessa takes a deep breath in her spot on the lacquered wood underneath a spotlight. She looks over to Brooke who’s on a little plinth, all lit up with a wall of halogen bulbs behind her, and gives her a little wink and a thumbs up. Brooke looks just as nervous as she is, but the smile she gives Vanessa goes some way to reassure her.

And then, a few seconds which feel like minutes later, the commentator’s voice booms overhead.

“Dancing the Cha Cha Cha…Brooke Lynn Hytes and Vanessa Mateo!”

The halogen lights behind Brooke blind Vanessa as she looks at her, suddenly confident and poised, a huge smile on her face on the stage. She looks like a real professional. Fuck, Vanessa’s so proud of her.

“Blackpool!” Brooke yells as loud as she can. “Let’s…get…loud!”

Pyro goes off behind the wall of light as the music starts, and the audience screeches as Brooke descends the stairs and practically runs to Vanessa, holding her hands tightly as they start their dance with matching smiles on their faces. A cha cha cha is a technical one, all about the footwork and arms, and they can’t really hide behind their obvious chemistry this time. But they’ve worked hard, so fucking hard, and Brooke can do it without a single mistake, Vanessa knows this.

Vanessa jumps up into a lift, Brooke holding her in her arms and spinning her round and making her giggle involuntarily. Maybe Brooke is right, Vanessa thinks, as she is gently deposited down and they jump back in hold again. Maybe none of this matters any more; the competition, the scores, the TV show. Maybe all this has to be is Vanessa dancing with Brooke and having fun, the pair of them growing closer with every passing second, and Vanessa coming dangerously close to falling for someone again with every passing day.

As Brooke faces forward and Vanessa does the same, then drops to the floor and wiggles her way up Brooke’s legs, it also occurs to her that it could also be about the great fucking sex they’re having. Well, have had. But Vanessa knows there’ll be another time, maybe probably very soon judging from the way Brooke’s now gliding her hands down Vanessa’s body.

She can’t let her concentration wander, however, so Vanessa’s brain is back in the game as they step, twirl each other round, Brooke dips her confidently before they go back to stepping quickly again, twirling effortlessly into a New York. As the horn section from the band blasts, Vanessa gauges the audience reaction. They’re cheering and clapping along and the judges are leaning forward, engaged and impressed. Even Bianca’s got a little smile on her face. In spite of everything, Vanessa feels her heart begin to rise.

“Ain’t nobody gotta tell ya what you gotta do…”

As the song ends, Vanessa holds Brooke’s hand as they whip out their final party piece- Brooke drops to the floor in an effortless split, and the crowd raises the roof. Shangela is screaming from her position behind the judges’ table and Brooke is screaming too as she swings her legs round and stands up, crushes Vanessa in a hug who’s already got her own arms out waiting for it. Vanessa mutters praise into Brooke’s chest and she can feel her planting a kiss to the top of her head in response, their little tradition that she’s glad Brooke hasn’t stopped.

As they cross over to Michelle Vanessa is grateful that Brooke is carrying the interview, as she can hardly speak out of her own gripping nerves. She knows that dance went well, she knows it’s the best they’ve ever done it. So when Michelle hands over to Shangela, Vanessa isn’t sure that she breathes for roughly ten seconds.

“I…thought…” Shangela starts, and Vanessa’s lungs almost give out. “…that that was the best we’ve ever seen you dance, Brooke Lynn.”

The audience erupts and Vanessa looks up at Brooke and beams, squeezing her tightly and refusing to let go. Brooke’s eyes are still on the judges as Shangela’s compliments continue. “Your footwork and your synchronicity with Vanessa…it was all just so, so polished, I mean a lot of celebrities when they come on this show, they can find the syncopation really difficult and you just- I mean it was like asking you to count to ten! You had a great night tonight, well done.”

The audience cheer her comments, and then it’s Kennedy’s turn to give her feedback.

“Yeah, I agree with Shangela. You are at your peak in this competition, and that was your best night yet. That was absolutely flawless, I just…I don’t have anything left to say at this point.”

Vanessa’s breath is heavy and laboured, trying to calm her rising hopes at all this praise Brooke is receiving. After Kennedy is Laganja, and she’s practically on top of the table as she yells about the pair of them, how much chemistry they have and how faultless Brooke’s performance was and how their Cuban breaks were perfection incarnate.

“And if this doesn’t get the score it should-” she finishes, shooting Vanessa’s pulse through the roof with a catapult. “- then I’m leaving the show!”

As the audience laugh and applaud Laganja’s comments, Vanessa feels Brooke’s grip on her waist tighten as it reaches Bianca’s turn. The crowd is silent, and if Vanessa squints she can see Brooke’s rapid breathing beside her.

Come on…come on…

The whole room seems to hold its breath. Bianca’s face is impassive as she opens her mouth to speak. “I couldn’t fault that if I tried.”

Vanessa’s face drops in shock and she feels Brooke lurch beside her, the levels of praise they’re receiving from Bianca Del Rio hardly registering. The audience is almost deafening at this point and Vanessa’s ears are straining to hear the rest of the judge’s comments.

“The Cha Cha Cha…I mean it’s a fun dance, it’s a cheeky dance, but it’s so rarely a showstopper, and that just stole the show. Shangela is right, there are so many things that meant you could’ve butchered that entire dance- hello, you’ve got one of the best Latin specialists in the country coaching you, hard not to be a little intimidated- but you took it all in your stride and it was like watching a fish swim, the effortlessness of it all. But one of the things I loved most about it all was just how much fun the pair of you were having. It was like neither of you seemed to realise that you were dancing in a competitive setting, and it felt as if we were all here to watch you on tour or something. Really well done tonight, Brooke Lynn, you did yourself proud.”

As the crowd claps for them both and Michelle sends them up to the Divinatorium, Vanessa clutches Brooke’s hand tightly. She sneaks a look at her as they run up the stairs and giggles as she finds Brooke’s eyes already on her. As Divina talks to them both and Vanessa feels Akeria squeeze her shoulder from behind her, she can barely concentrate on anything as her whole body vibrates in anticipation. Vanessa does manage to tune in, however, when she hears her name mentioned.

“Bianca did say it must’ve been intimidating for you to have Vanessa coaching you on a Cha Cha Cha- did you feel the pressure this week?” Divina asks Brooke, and Brooke just laughs, puts an arm around Vanessa’s waist and pulls her close.

“I mean there’s always that little bit of pressure when you’ve got someone like Vanessa coaching you, because she’s so talented and perfect at what she does,” Brooke smiles down at her, and Vanessa’s heart feels completely stuffed full of affection. “But she’s never intimidating, and she never puts pressure on me. In fact she puts way more pressure on herself, which she needs to stop doing, because look how well we both did tonight!”

Vanessa feels herself blush and all she can do is wrap another arm around Brooke’s waist as Divina continues to speak.

“Well, Brooke Lynn, I can confirm the judges’ scores are in. Let’s see what they thought.”

And then there’s the all-consuming feeling of holding her breath and gripping Brooke’s side as if she’s her lifeboat. Vanessa’s heart is just going and going and going because maybe, maybe, maybemaybemaybe…

“Will the judges please reveal their scores. Bianca Del Rio.”

“Ten.”

“Kennedy Davenport.”

“Ten!”

“Shangela Wadely.”

“It’s a ten!”

“Laganja Estranja.”

“TEN!”

They have done it. Forty out of forty.

Brooke has wrapped herself around her like an octopus with half its limbs cut off and is screaming in much the same matter. Vanessa can feel her nails dig into her back, a few tears drop down onto her shoulder and something inside her just breaks, and before she knows it she is simply holding Brooke and crying and Brooke is doing the exact same to her. The cheers from the other couples on the balcony turn into awws, and a box of tissues is shoved towards them. Vanessa soon realises that Divina is attempting to talk to her so she takes a tissue, sweeps it under both her eyes quickly.

“Sorry…that was a big reaction, it just meant a lot to the both of us. Brooke Lynn’s been working so hard every week so to get that sort of acknowledgement means the world to me. I just want everyone to think she’s as amazin’ as I do.”

As Divina reads out their voting details then signs them both off, everyone claps and Vanessa takes Brooke’s hand again. This time her grip is gentle as if Brooke will crumble apart on contact. When Brooke pulls her into her dressing room, there’s not the fire and heat that there had been last week; instead they hold each other softly, and Brooke rubs her back slowly while murmuring quiet, affectionate words into her hair in between pressing kisses to her forehead.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she says after a pause, and Vanessa’s stomach does a bungee jump.

“Stop it,” she replies quietly, if only to deflect from the fact that she’s thinking the exact same thing about Brooke but doesn’t dare say it back; she’s scared to say it out loud because the last time she felt this way about someone it all ended up in heartbreak and hurt and mess.

“It’s true,” Brooke insists simply, but she doesn’t push it or overdo it- her statement is her statement, and Vanessa’s glad she’s letting it be.

The perfect score, being top of the leaderboard, everything Brooke’s said to her tonight- Vanessa’s on cloud nine. That is until the results show is filmed, and one of Vanessa’s worst fears about being on the show comes true.

“I can now reveal that the second couple in the dance-off and joining Yvie and Jaida are…”

Drum beat. Drum beat. Vanessa’s ribcage is tight and constricted, and she daren’t let herself relax even though their scores were so perfect, even though they did exactly what they’d set out to do because maybe their fans could get complacent, maybe they didn’t vote as much this week…

“Monet and Monique.”

Vanessa’s guts feel as if they’re plummeting to the floor. She breaks away from Brooke, cranes her neck and looks over at her friend whose spotlight has changed colour leaving both Monique and Monet bathed in a sickening red. Monique had told her their dance hadn’t gone great- they’d performed directly after her and Brooke, and the pressure of having to follow their perfect score had rattled Monet to the point where she’d made too many basic errors- but Vanessa didn’t for one second think they’d land in the bottom two. Monique catches her eye, gives her a helpless, sorrowful smile, and Vanessa feels her eyes fill with tears.

As the other dancers are led up to the Divinatorium to watch the couples, Vanessa and Akeria gravitate to each other like little magnets, take each other’s hands with grave faces and emotional eyes. Brooke rests a hand on her shoulder and leans down to whisper to her.

“It’ll be alright. Yvie got under 30, God love her. She’s great, but Monet’ll overshadow her. Monique isn’t out, don’t worry.”

Brooke can usually say all the right things to calm Vanessa down, but not this time. She, Akeria and Monique had been so excited the moment they found out they’d all have partners this year, and Vanessa remembers the drunken pact they’d made after the launch show that they’d be the last three standing in the competition, the best of the best. It had been a silly joke, but watching as Monique takes to the floor and holds Monet in her arms, it’s never meant so much to Vanessa to have her friend share this journey with her.

As the music begins and Vanessa watches Monet and Monique glide across the ballroom floor effortlessly as the sparkling glitterball casts its mirrors over their bodies, she feels Brooke wrap her arms around her from behind and rest her chin on her head. Without thinking they fall into a soft sway and even though Vanessa’s heart is still in her mouth- because the two girls can’t leave the competition yet, it’s not their time, and she, Monique and Akeria have to be in the final together- Brooke’s gentle rocking manages to ground her and calm her without her even having to say a single word. Vanessa thinks back to what she had said backstage, how much Brooke had completely lit up her heart, and she wonders if she truly meant it all. The song’s lyrics drift into Vanessa’s consciousness as she watches Monet lift Monique gently, spin her around like she’s the dancer twirling around in a music box.

“What you say you can’t take back, no takebacks, don’t take that back…‘cause your words mean the world to me…”

Vanessa feels like laughing. Ain’t that the truth.

Monet and Monique finish their dance well with only a couple of noticeable faults, and then Jaida and Yvie do their Tango once again. It wasn’t too strong the first time and the clear pressure that comes with being in the bottom doesn’t help Yvie, as she makes a few visible mistakes. If the judges have eyes, Vanessa knows they’ll save Monique and Monet. Then again…stranger things have happened on the show.

Michelle consoles both pairs as they take their places under another spotlight each on the dancefloor. Monique and Monet’s hands are joined together tightly, and Yvie has her arm around Jaida’s shoulders, a light smile of defeat on her lips as if she knows the result already.

“Judges, I am now going to ask for the name of the couple you want to save and take through to Musicals Week next week. Starting with Bianca.”

Bianca shuffles a few papers and fixes both couples with a calm stare that flips Vanessa’s internal organs. “Well Yvie, I think you’ll agree that there were a few mis-steps there that couldn’t really be ignored, and Monet, conversely, you managed to elevate your performance in the dance-off. So tonight, I’m saving Monet and Monique.”

Vanessa feels Akeria squeeze her hand, her grip damp from the nervous sweat on her palm.

“Shangela.”

Shangela frowns, a pained expression on her face. “I mean it’s hard, because both dances had some errors here and there. However I’m going to go with my gut and the person I think deserves to stay and improve is Yvie. So I’m saving Yvie and Jaida.”

Vanessa lets go of Akeria’s hand, brings both of her hands up to cup her cheeks and exhales heavily. As Kennedy is head judge her vote holds the most weight on the panel, and so Michelle next comes to Laganja.  

“Yes, as Shangela said, neither was a perfect dance. But I personally think one couple managed to improve on their initial performance, and so tonight I’m saving Monet and Monique.”

Brooke squeezes Vanessa’s waist and holds her tightly as finally, Kennedy makes to cast her vote. Vanessa feels ill. She can only imagine what’s going through Monique’s mind as she stands in her character shoes, gripping Monet���s hand with her gaze very firmly locked on the floor.

“For me…it comes down to the connection between one couple in particular, and the emotion and the storytelling behind their routine. The couple I’m saving…is Monet and Monique.”

Vanessa melts out of Brooke’s arms and instead turns to hug Akeria, holding her as tightly as she’s holding Vanessa back and feeling her heartbeat through her chest. Vanessa feels Brooke put a light hand between her shoulder blades reassuringly, and the double dose of human contact helps bring Vanessa right down to earth from the rafters her sky-high anxiety levels had perched her up in. When the show ends, Yvie and Jaida share one final dance, and the others are allowed to invade the dancefloor and say goodbye, it’s not the eliminated couple Vanessa runs to but her cherished friend instead. Akeria joins them and the three of them hold each other and shed tears, relief not even being able to cut it.

It’s Yvie’s idea to go for drinks after the show- she’s happy even though she’s been knocked out, though Vanessa thinks that’s got something to do with the fact Scarlet has travelled up to watch her after all. So it’s a pleasant feeling when Vanessa finds herself clambering off the emotional rollercoaster she’s been strapped into all night and instead beginning to take on a more mellow form of happiness induced by the three pornstar martinis she’s managed to knock back so far. Even though they arrived at short notice the dancers and celebrities have all managed to secure a huge booth near the back of Revolution, where it’s dark and private and everyone else is too glammed-up and full of flavoured shots to notice a huddle of TV personalities. Vanessa looks fondly over at Brooke who’s dancing with Yvie, Scarlet, Jaida and Jackie who collectively are making her wonder how they’ve managed to lose the co-ordination and grace they show on TV every Saturday. Gigi and Crystal are on the other side of the booth, sitting close and having what looks to be a deep, meaningful heart to heart, and Jan, Monet and Asia are nowhere to be seen (either smoking area or bathrooms is Vanessa’s best guess).

Vanessa cheers as Monique returns to the booth with Akeria, carrying a stick of shots and a huge fishbowl of purple liquid respectively. The pair of them squash themselves down beside Vanessa and they grab a shot class each, toasting to them all surviving another week in the competition.  

“I can’t lie, my heart was in my damn asshole when Michelle said your name,” Akeria points at Monique, her turn of phrase making Vanessa snort out half her drink.

“Excuse me! You were the one panicking? I was the one that had to dance the damn thing all over again!” Monique clutches at her chest incredulously. Vanessa wiggles her eyebrows at her friend.

“Well ain’t it lucky you and Monet have that connection that managed to save you.”

Akeria jumps on Monique’s bashful expression like a cat on a mouse. “Yeah, how’s that situation goin’? Seems okay by the looks of things.”

“We had a long chat on Tuesday,” Monique brushes a bit of hair out of her face and looks at her lap. “I was honest with my feelings and so was she. Turns out she actually really likes me back. Crazy, ain’t it? My actual real-life celebrity crush likes me like that.”

Vanessa and Akeria squeal excitedly, and Vanessa sips from the fishbowl as Akeria asks where this leaves them both.

“Well, we’re both just focussed on the competition just now. Need to beat both you bitches, don’t we?” Monique sticks her tongue out, tinged blue from all the cocktails she’s been drinking. “But we’ve been doin’ more cute stuff, not just all the nasty shit. She came round to mine the night before we got the train up here an’ we had some wine and watched a movie an’ just talked an’ cuddled.”

“Ugh, puke. I don’t know what’s worse, havin’ to hear about your rehearsal-room bangin’ or havin’ to hear about all the diabetes-inducing shit you do now you’re both all in your feels,” Akeria gags jokingly, and Vanessa chuckles as Monique pushes her friend, unimpressed. Suddenly, something seems to occur to Akeria. “So wait. Was it you two I heard this mornin’ then?”

Vanessa’s tipsy and she doesn’t want to keep Brooke a secret any longer, at least from her two best friends. So as Monique shakes her head, she grimaces and gives a slow shrug.

“Uh…I think I can answer that.”

Akeria blinks at her and Vanessa can practically see the cogs turning in her brain. Monique gets there first though, and she emits a high-pitched shriek that soars above the speakers and makes Gigi and Crystal jump about twenty feet in the air from across the booth. Vanessa frantically shushes her, and that’s when Akeria catches on.

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Lord Jesus. It was you an’ Brooke Lynn, wasn’t it? Tell me I’m right,” Akeria grabs Vanessa’s wrist, shaking her so excitedly and violently that even the table manages to shake too.

“You sorted your shit out? When?! Where is Jesus!” Monique squeaks at a pitch that, if Vanessa couldn’t make out herself, she would be convinced only dogs could hear.

“God, okay, it was after that night I came and stayed at yours. You know, when I kissed her and then she got weird with me and I told you both about it on the group chat,” Vanessa explains, starting from the very beginning. “Anyway it was that week we did the Argentine and it’s hard not to feel a way when you do that kinda dance, y’know? So it ended up happenin’ again an’ we actually talked this time. She told me she had this big crush on me, an’ obviously I felt the same. So…yeah. We’re…well, not together, but we’re a thing for sure.”

In the midst of Monique’s excited reaction, Akeria narrows her eyes. “What, when you did that Tango? Girl. That was what, a whole-ass week ago? More? Why’re we only just getting told about this?”

Vanessa pulls a face. “Well, we’re both trying to keep it low key. You know what happened with Kam, an’ I don’t wanna get too invested too fast. Plus if it gets into the papers…”

“That’s fair. Got it, girl. We’ll keep it all secret,” Akeria reassures her instantly, taking her hand and leaning into her side in her tipsy state. “This is dead cute, though. I’m happy for you, babe.”

Monique gasps in outrage. “Oh, so when Vanessa gets a girl it’s cute but when I get a girl you gag?”

“Yes. Because Vanessa don’t bang her girl on the rehearsal room floor,” Akeria frowns at her, and Vanessa explodes a laugh. She’s so full of love for her friends, and she’s beyond glad that tonight’s been her night. So when their song comes on over the speakers and Akeria starts yelling it out in her own off-key way, Vanessa drags them both up to join the clump of girls already on the dancefloor, and when she dances over to Brooke’s side she can’t help but feel a little warmth flow through her veins as Brooke’s vision sparkles at the sight of her.

They all end up dancing til closing time, and as they spill out onto the streets like the club has coughed them up Vanessa has to fight the drunken thoughts her mind is producing that are urging her to take Brooke’s hand on their walk back to the hotel. There could still be a camera anywhere, even at one in the morning, and Vanessa doesn’t want to risk the small beginnings of whatever it is she and Brooke are sharing.

Still, when they’re back in their hotel room they’re free to act as affectionately as they want, and Vanessa has never been more glad of the fact they’ve been given a double bed as they fall back against the mattress, giggling and kissing each other like the worst kind of honeymoon phase idiots the world has ever seen.

“Can’t be bothered to put m’ pyajamas on,” Brooke murmurs, her speech impeded by the espresso martinis she’s been drinking and the lethargy that’s rapidly taking over her. Vanessa laughs softly, turns over onto her side and tucks a strand of hair behind Brooke’s ear. Her lipstick is faded, one of her eyelashes is sticking up at the side, and there’s a little patch of smudged eyeliner at the corner of her eye, but Brooke’s still perfect to her.

“Jus’ sleep naked,” Vanessa says, attempting to sound seductive but getting betrayed by the yawn that escapes her mouth mid-sentence. Brooke laughs.

“You really know how to charm a woman into bed, Ms. Mateo,” she teases her, tapping her lightly on the nose with her finger. Vanessa bares her teeth at her, biting at the air and causing Brooke to dissolve into giggles.

“You’re a mess.”

“Hey, so are you!” Brooke laughs incredulously, and Vanessa has to concede. She watches as Brooke sighs wearily, sitting up against the pillows and pulling off her lashes one by one. Brooke leans over the side of the bed for the packet of makeup wipes in her bag and Vanessa can’t help but smack her butt that’s sticking in the air. Brooke responds by launching the makeup wipes at her, hitting her square in the face and causing the pair of them to burst out laughing again.

Vanessa takes out two wipes and hands one to Brooke, and somehow the pair of them end up taking each others’ makeup off, their hands swiping at each others’ faces haphazardly like faulty windscreen wipers on an old car.

“This is the worst facial I’ve ever had,” Vanessa jokes disdainfully, and Brooke waggles her eyebrows.

“I’ll give you a facial later.”

Vanessa snorts ungracefully as Brooke breaks out into a ridiculous grin and ends up with the makeup wipe in her mouth. “Shut the hell up!”

They eventually end up in their pyjamas, but not before Brooke gives Vanessa the world’s worst striptease (Brooke attempting to take her pants off but instead getting them caught around her ankles and falling onto the floor, rendering Vanessa incapable of speech during a laughing fit that lasts a solid five minutes). Vanessa’s not sure what time it is when they finally turn off the lights, get under the covers and sleepily wrap themselves around each other, but she knows it’s pitch black outside and the seagulls are silent and she can just about hear the waves crashing onto the beach if she listens hard enough.

She’s so busy trying to hear the sea against the shore that she doesn’t register Brooke is saying something until she hears the tailend of her sentence, only aware Brooke’s lips have been moving against her skin when they stop.

Vanessa stretches a little. “Hm?”

She feels herself melt as Brooke pulls her closer, hugs her tighter and shakes her head a little. “Doesn’t matter. Night, ‘Ness.”

“Night, Brooke Lynn.”

It’s only once Vanessa is ever so close to falling asleep that she feels as if something was missing, like she wanted to say something more- but the words elude her and she is too tired to think too much about it, so she lets herself be carried off to sleep in Brooke’s arms, comfortable and relaxed inside and out.