#yeah so unfortunately jack kind of has even more reason to be sad in the reevesverse... he honestly-

[mad-hunts]

just updated my carrd a little bit ago to include new details about the reevesverse and uhhh. unfortunately, with the way that julien died, i can also imagine that jack would feel a TON of guilt surrounding the whole event (in addition to barton) and i don't know how to feel about that. because although julien and jack aren't actually related by blood in either the main verse or the reevesverse... that wasn't the only time julien saved him + he definitely felt a sibling-like bond to him

[anauthore]

Not Much of A Partygoer (Kenny McCormick x Reader) {SERIES | Two}

Summary: (Y/n) drinks to forget her parents. Good thing Kenny is great at handling drunk people.

Pairing: Kenny McCormick x Reader (she/her pronouns) - South Park

NOTE: Every part of this series can be read as stand-alone, or as part of the series itself! If you don’t want to read each part on Tumblr, feel free to check out links to the work on the below websites:

Wattpad | Quotev | AO3

Fic Below the Cut | Previous Part | Next Part

The door slammed. You didn’t flinch because, unfortunately, you were used to things like that. Your door was ajar and your earbuds were in. Even though one side was quieter than the other, they did a good enough job blasting music into your ears and drowning out the noise of arguing and yelling.

* * *

The night, again, was cold. It always seemed like it was chilly here in Colorado, but you didn’t really mind. You liked the cold, anyway. You’d always thought that being cold was better than being hot.

The wind was surprisingly absent as you walked toward the address you’d scribbled on a piece of paper, squinting to search for the numbers on each mailbox in order to ensure you were in the right place. When you did eventually get there, though, the abundance of noise and flashing lights in the window was all you needed to confirm that you had indeed shown up at the party that you had, for some reason, been invited to.

You walked up the walkway, your feet gripping the stone easily as it had both been shoveled and salted. You naively knocked on the door before realizing there was a doorbell. You ringed it a couple times, waiting for an answer, but when none came, you leaned toward an opened window to peek inside.

Just as you focused on two dark-haired boys chatting in the corner with cups filled with what you assumed was alcohol, the door opened and the noise rushed into the open like waves crashing over you.

* * *

You had been in the middle of switching songs. The angry music you listened to only exasperated your feelings, and you weren’t in the mood for sad sounds. To your dismay, you never got the chance to hear whatever it is you were searching for.

Your door, already propped open so that your mom could see you were diligently working on your schoolwork, slammed against the opposite wall with enough force that you jumped. You looked up and locked eyes with your mom’s boyfriend- he was standing in the doorway and gesturing wildly, still in his Winter jacket with his tie peeking out from over the top.

His voice boomed as you were well accustomed to, but even then you couldn’t keep his words from drowning you.

“And your daughter, this little wench, she’s probably a slut just like you! Look at her; look at her room! And the clothes she wears, it’s completely unacceptable. If I were anyone else I’d be after her right now.”

You furrowed your brows in disgust and anger. What the fuck was happening? You opened your mouth to say something, but you couldn’t get a word out before he stood to the side and pointed into the hallway, looking directly at you as he commanded you toward the kitchen.

* * *

In the doorway was the silhouette of someone you recognized, and though you wouldn’t consider her a friend to you, she sure was a sight for sore eyes. 

Wendy Testaburger waved to you and smiled happily, as she always did, and then beckoned you inside. You couldn’t help but smile back at her as you climbed the steps, and, like she did with almost every girl she saw, she enveloped you in a tight hug before she let you go.

“I’m so glad you came! I was starting to think you’d never show.” She closed the door behind you and instantly you were a hundred times warmer. You almost felt suffocated.

“Yeah, well, I had nothing else better to do.” You shrugged it off.

She rolled her eyes playfully and picked up a cup from the side table that you assumed was hers. You didn’t have to peek inside to know that the liquid that sloshed around inside the plastic barrier was not alcohol. Wendy didn’t drink.

“Here, follow me,” she beckoned you over and started walking through the sparse crowd in the living room. You glanced around and recognized some kids from school, but obviously none of them were your friends. 

“So, this is the punch, and this is the punch.” She chuckled softly, shaking her head only slightly and handed you a plastic cup that looked like both hers and everyone else’s.

“Choose wisely.”

* * *

“(Y/n), do you mind telling me what the fuck you think you’re doing?” 

You looked to your mother for comfort, but she was just as angry as her partner. You had no idea what to say, so you shrugged.

“Don’t shrug at me! You know damn well what you’re getting into, sleeping around and doing drugs. Don’t act like you don’t know!”

You reached your breaking point. You felt your own voice rise up out of your chest and scream, all the words that were bouncing around in your brain finally forming into something other than thoughts.

“I’m not doing fucking anything! You’re so preoccupied with blaming me that you forget you’re dating a crackhead with a daughter who hasn’t done jack. shit. You think I wanna end up like her, dating someone like you?”

The cold slap that stung on your cheek froze you. This time, your mother was fuming, her fist balled up as tight as she could make it.

You scoffed, tears threatening to fall from your eyes as you pushed back your chair and slammed the door shut behind you, welcoming the wind as you strode toward any direction at all. Anywhere that would take you away from here.

* * *

  The moment the punch touched your lips, you were instantly warmed. You sighed and watched Wendy walk away, waving as she departed and fazed into the crowd. It was quiet where you stood; the tiny nook in the kitchen where the two bowls sat are the only thing that drew people into the room. You thought about leaning against the wall and staying away from everyone, but you were cold, and it was warmer where all the action was, so you headed towards the living room with an arm wrapped around your frame and your hand gripping your cup.

Music vibrated the floor through huge speakers stationed in the corner of the room, and you were grateful that it wasn’t any louder than that. Some kids sung to themselves while others were swaying to the rhythm; everyone was congregated in some sort of group, leaving you to be the odd one out. As always.

Or at least, you were for a moment or two before one of the boys in the corner came over to recruit you for a game of beer pong. You shook your head, and he nodded, stalking off to find someone else- behind him trailed a familiar blond, probably looking for the same thing. Your gaze met his for a brief moment; you don’t know what you expected, but he left as quickly as he had come.

You took another sip. And then another. Two more trips to refill your cup later, Wendy once again met you in the kitchen.

“Hey girl! Having fun?”

You smiled politely, and muttered a reply, but of course she knew better. 

“C’mon, (Y/n)! It’s not a party unless you’re enjoying yourself. Actually- wanna join my team? We’re playing beer pong, we need one more person for it to be even.”

You hesitated, but you didn’t get a chance to answer before she walked off, expecting you to follow her.

And that you did. You caught up and followed her like a dog, not wanting the crowd to close in on you and trap you in the sea of strangers. You barely paid attention to her, your eyes glued to her feet as she weaved in and out of rooms and obstacles until finally, finally, you reached the garage.

The draft made you shiver. There were significantly less people here than inside, but the atmosphere was playful as the small group of beer-pongers whooped and cheered for Wendy, having made the score even. You smiled nervously, finishing the last of your drink before setting the cup down on whatever clear surface available.

Wendy stood with you and two other girls who you didn’t recognize at all, while the opposing team was made up of Kenny, the black-haired guy you saw walking around earlier, some redhead, and the ever infamous Cartman. You had an opinion on at least a few people here, but your facial expression gave nothing away. You just watched, and when it was your turn, you played.

You missed your first few shots, with jeers from Cartman and the telltale mumbling of Kenny, followed by laughter and kind words from Wendy. The fifth or so time around, one of your teammates was getting fed up with you.

“Fuck, why can’t you make a ball! We’re getting obliterated! Are you already that drunk?” 

“Bebe! C’mon, she has as much of a chance as anyone here.” You could tell she was holding back a smile just to be polite. The boys snickered and your face turned red, but that could also be the alcohol settling in your empty stomach. 

"Hey, make another shot.” One of the kids opposite to you nodded his head in your direction, glancing at your hands before he tossed a white ping-pong ball toward you to catch. You did so in the palm of your hand, looking at Wendy for approval. You prepared yourself once more, planting your foot and squinting an eye to aim. Then, the ball that had been grasped so gingerly between your thumb and forefinger was released, and unsurprisingly, you missed any and all cups in front of you. You sighed and stepped back, but then your opponent spoke once more.

“Now, drink. Here, take mine.” He searched around and handed you his cup full of punch, which you had no other choice but to take from him. Cartman snickered and you stared into the liquid’s daunting face before drinking. Around you erupted clapping and laughter.

“Alright, so (Y/n)’s gonna drink every time she misses? That’s a little unfair, don’t you think?”

Wendy tapped Bebe’s arm and shook her head, then whispered something into her ear. Bebe rolled her eyes and seemed to drop the subject, though her attitude didn't waver.

Not many more rounds later, and everything started to spin. The walls were moving back and forth like you were on a boat, and your feet couldn't feel the floor underneath you anymore. Your mind buzzed as you fumbled with the ball and tossed- you didn’t see where it went, but you did hear the crescendo of ‘ooo’-ing rise around you. Wendy moved in front of you, taking hold of your shoulders and shaking you, a huge smile on her face. Her voice was shrill and easy enough to focus on; “You did it! You made the shot!”

“I- what?” You looked behind her and saw the sea of red cups half-filled with liquid, and in the midst of one, an unmistakable white orb. A cheeky smile spread across your face and you laughed. “I did it- holy shit, I did it! I get to drink!”

Wendy stepped out of the way and watched as you stepped forward and plucked the cup of alcohol off the table, tossing the ball to the side and chugging it. It burned, especially on the edge of your lips, but the warmth spread throughout your body and you quickly forgot about the burning sensation. You sat the cup down- the empty plastic fell to the side and you wiped your mouth and neck with your sleeve, cringing at the stickiness the drink left behind. You swayed, smiled, and gave two thumbs up to the other team, who started to laugh at your antics.

“Woah, okay, (Y/n), look at me.” 

Wendy’s hand supported your back as you stumbled. The muffled party music had somehow infiltrated your brain, and you swear you could feel it. In your chest, your hands, your… toes.

“Look, guys, she’s fuckin’ trashed. Who wants to bet on when she’ll dance topless on the table?”

Someone elbowed Cartman in the side and he glared back. Wendy shot him a dirty look and nudged you toward the garage door, but your drunken state was clearly something she was not used to handling.

“(Y/n)- c’mon, we have to get you some food. Or at least to lay down, okay?”

You nodded, but then shook your head. “No, no I wanna play, I’m just getting good!”

Wendy opened her mouth to speak, but someone else interrupted her before she could.

“Hey, here, let me help.” 

Kenny stepped around the white, pop-up table and ignored the nudges from Cartman and Stan. Wendy turned to look at him, sans his orange parka, with a raised brow. He, of course, completely understood the implications his demeanour had on this sort of situation. In any other case, Wendy would not let someone like him near a drunk girl such as yourself, but in this instance, he was way better at handling these situations than she was.

He put his hand around the small of your back, with the other hand on your shoulder to steer you. He pushed you toward the door and said something to Wendy. It was apparently the right thing to say, because she nodded and went back to the game, though not after she made sure you were safely in the other room.

The lights were darker inside than in the garage, so you found yourself depending on Kenny to guide you around. Your closeness allowed the telltale scent of cigarettes and musk, and now alcohol, to find its way to your nose, and immediately you were taken back to the night however many weeks ago that you’d been with him.

He steadied you as you swayed back and forth, nudging you up the stairs and into a room with a bed. You laughed, and he said something that you couldn’t quite make out before you realized he wanted you to lay down. You tried to shed your jacket, but the material felt disgusting to your senses, so you gave up and collapsed into the blankets. Your whole body buzzed, like every nerve ending was set on fire but at the same time lulled to sleep.

Kenny closed the door. The old floor underneath you creaked as he approached, and his hands found your body- they were surprisingly warm, and you got lost in his touch. It made you suddenly seem cold, and you tried to push toward him before you realized what could be happening and let the alarm bells go off in your head.

He pulled off the other arm of your windbreaker and threw it to the floor. You looked up, though unable to focus, and found him, back turned to you as he searched for something. Your pulse picked up, and you wanted to run. You knew how this would end- you were drunk, you could barely move, and it was so easy for him to just-

A warmth covered you that was definitely not there before. It was fuzzy, and so soft, and then you realized it was a blanket. You smiled and rubbed your skin against the faux fur, shivering as your heat spread out underneath the cover. You tried to thank Kenny, for being better than you thought he was, but your voice was both muffled by the blanket and by your drunken haze.

Kenny sat next to you and watched you drift in and out of sleep. He stared at a wall, or sometimes at you, but either way he was sensible enough to keep anything or anyone else from coming in to disturb you.

You’d grown used to him being next to you. You’d half-dream, being alerted by the prospect of him moving, and then comforted to find that he was still sitting there, at the end of the mattress, lost in his own thoughts.

Right before you fell to sleep, you’d opened your eyes to find that he was slipping out of the door. You’d spoken, almost pleaded, to him.

“You’re leaving?”

He turned to you with a gaze that you couldn’t place. You could also barely see it. “Uh, I- yeah. I’m just getting a drink.”

You nodded. You didn’t hear him leave, but then again, the buzzing in your head was hard enough to hear past on its own. 

“Thank you so much. Thank you. Thank you, Kenny. Ken. Thanks.” You couldn’t help but smile at his kindness.

You didn’t know if he heard you, but you didn’t care enough to check. With that, your last words of the night, you were out, succumbing to the cocoon of sleep you desperately needed.

[calwrites]

The Halloween Party

Summary: Reader has lived across the hall from Penelope Garcia for a couple years and considers her to be one of her best friends. That’s the only reason she agreed to go to a Halloween match making party.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.2k

I wrote this very quickly so it’s not the best, but I couldn’t let Halloween go by without writing something for Reid.

——————

“I still can’t believe I let you talk me into this stupid match making thing,” you grumbled at the blonde currently on your couch.

Penelope Garcia smiled at you over her wine glass. “Well I wanted to go but only if my favorite neighbor did it too.”

“I’m the only neighbor you talk to,” you pointed out. Penelope stuck her tongue out at you and waved her empty glass in the air. You rolled your eyes, but refilled her glass anyway.

You and Penelope had lived in the same building for a few years. When you had seen the brightly dressed woman lugging boxes down the hall, you had offered to help her move everything in. She had intrigued you. You had passed each other in the hall a couple of times after that, but had never really talked until one evening when you heard a knock on your door.

It had puzzled you because you were still pretty new to the area so you didn’t have any friends who would be dropping by unexpectedly. Opening the door, you had found Penelope standing in the hall crying.

“I had a really bad day at work. I just really need someone to talk to,” she had said. You ushered her in and spent the night learning about Penelope’s job as a technical analyst for the BAU. Now whenever Penelope’s team got through with a tough case, she would come collapse on your couch while the two of you drank wine and decompressed.

“You’re also the one who told me to get out there and forget about Kevin,” Penelope countered.

“Yeah well I didn’t think you’d drag me along.”

“It’s not just you! I convinced some of my friends at the BAU to sign up too. Besides, I know you’re excited for the party. You already bought two dresses.” She pointed at the dresses still laying out on your kitchen table. You were trying to decide whether a black dress or white dress would be better for your costume.

“I’m always excited for a Halloween costume party. I just never thought I’d be one of those sad people who signs up for a matchmaking party.”

“Y/N, you are one of the smartest people I know. And I work for the FBI. I know a lot of smart people. The only reason you’re still single is because whenever you get time off from teaching you spend it trying to solve impossible math equations. And I thought you said your match sounded nice.”

You sighed. “Trying to solve an impossible math equation is arguably the most important part of my job. I think the university cares more about that than the courses I teach sometimes. I guess he does seem nice. He’s either very smart or he’s very good at using google to sound smart. Either way, when you look at the data, the likelihood of finding a long term partner through a survey is-“

Penelope groaned. “No! I get enough info dumping at work. Let’s just talk about the party. It’s next weekend and you’re buying clothes for it so I assume you and your partner decided on your costumes. What is it?”

When Penelope had invited you to a Halloween costume party, you had been quick to accept. She then told you that it was a matchmaking party where you had to fill out a survey and were then matched with another attendee. Pairs would have to decide on costumes and then find each other at the party. Until then, pairs wouldn’t know who the other person was. Definitely not your usual definition of fun.

“I’m not telling you,” you teased. Penelope gasped on faux anger before the two of you burst into laughter and decided on a movie to watch.

——————

You stared at your computer screen intently, willing the message to change.

I’ve been out of state for a work trip for the past few days. I didn’t mention it earlier because I was hoping that we would get back in plenty of time. It took a couple more days than we were anticipating though. We’re about to take off, so I’ll make it back in time for the party but I won’t have time to put out on my whole costume. I can just wear the cape or something if you don’t have any better suggestions. I’m looking forward to meeting you tonight.

You chewed your lip thoughtfully before an idea popped into your head. And you began typing back a response.

That’s a shame. I was looking forward to seeing your Masque of the Red Death costume. I have a new idea though. What character refused to wear a costume to a costume ball?

The response came back almost immediately.

And I was looking forward to seeing your Leonore costume. I’m sure that there are a number of characters who fit that description. Would you like a list?

You smiled and rolled your eyes.

It’s another gothic story. He’s throwing the fancy dress party, but he refuses to dress up. His new wife’s costume causes a bit of a stir. Enough clues?

The reply caused you to get up quickly to begin sorting out your new costume.

I’ll see you tonight, Mrs. de Winters.

A few hours later found you ready to leave. You were thankful that you still had the white dress you had previously purchased with the idea of using it for Leonore. You were even more thankful that you still had a wig from a few Halloween’s ago that worked for your costume. So now, with a white dress and curly dark hair, you were ready to leave.

“Ok I give up,” Penelope said when she opened her door. “What are you supposed to be?”

“I’m the narrator from Rebecca,” you told her. “It’s kind of a last minute costume. I’m glad your case wrapped up today. I would be bummed if I had to go without you.”

“Well it’s a good thing it didn’t come to that.” Penelope looped her arm through yours and pulled you down the hallway, the two of you laughing as you went.

——————

Thankfully the room wasn’t too loud when you and Penelope arrived. Jack-o-lanterns and bowls of candy sat on tables around the edge of the room, and bats and ghosts hung from the ceiling. You and Penelope made a circuit around the room, trying to find your matches.

“Maybe ours guys are running late,” Penelope suggested. The two of you had moved to a snack table while you surveyed the sea of costumes around you.

“Or they’re ditching us.” Penelope gave you a playful swat. You were saved from another attack by Penelope’s phone dinging.

“Oh! Some of my friends are here. Come meet them.” Before you could protest, Penelope was dragging you across the room. Two people stood against the wall talking, but broke into smiles and waved when they saw Penelope approaching.

“Y/N, this is Derek and Emily. Guys, this is my neighbor Y/N.”

You smiled and shook hands with the two FBI agents.

“So you’re the famous Y/N,” Derek grinned. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Famous? If anyone is famous it’s Derek “chocolate thunder” Morgan. The way Penelope talks about you, I was imagining a superhero. She wasn’t wrong.”

“I like her,” Derek laughed.

Emily groaned. “He does not need a bigger ego.”

“Where’s Reid?” Penelope asked. “Don’t tell me he bailed.”

“He said he needed to stop by his apartment first. We came straight from the plane. And don’t worry, Hotch and JJ both assured us they would take pictures of the kids in their costumes.” Penelope squealed and clapped her hands excitedly.

You chatted with Penelope and her friends for a few more minutes before Penelope spotted a man wearing a matching costume to hers. She waved bye to your little group and rushed off to meet him, leaving you with the two FBI agents.

“Oh there’s Pretty Boy,” Derek cried.

“I was kind of expecting you to show up in an intricate costume. You love Halloween, Spencer,” Emily said.

You turned to find a handsome man approaching your group. He was wearing a nice suit and had a leather satchel slung over his shoulder.

“No time, unfortunately.” The man shrugged. “I just had to pick up some books from my apartment. Hi. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid. You must be Garcia’s friend.” He turned to you, but didn’t extend a hand. You realized that this must be the young genius Penelope mentioned from time to time.

“Y/N,” you replied. Spencer’s eyes took in your costume carefully. You tried not to shift uncomfortably.

“Are you planning on doing some reading tonight?” Derek asked.

“No. My date and I were discussing a volume of poetry that I have, so I wanted to bring it to show her.”

“What a ladies man,” Emily teased. “How’s she going to know it’s you though? You’re not wearing a costume.”

“Actually, I am.” Spencer smiled slightly at the confused looks on his friends’ faces. What he just said clicked for you suddenly.

“Maxim?” You asked before you could stop yourself.

Spencer blinked at you in surprise before smiling widely. “Mrs. de Winters?”

Emily and Derek looked between of you in slight confusion, but you and Spencer smiled at each other in delight. “We’ll leave you two to it,” Derek teased as he and Emily walked away.

“I’m glad that you’re a friend of Penelope’s and not a complete stranger,” you admitted. “I was a little worried I’d get stuck with some weirdo. Not that you sounded weird when we talked!”

“Well our first conversation was about the statistics of meeting a murderer when online dating. That’s a little weird.” The two of you laughed slightly.

“I’m a math professor, so I’m interested in anything statistics,” you admitted. “I’m kind of a nerd.”

“Same,” Spencer laughed. “You know these last minute costumes were a good idea.”

“I still want to see your Masque of the Red Death costume sometime.”

“Deal, but only if you tell me what you teach.”

You waved your hand. “Oh nothing exciting. Just some upper level math that nobody wants to take. The fun part of my job is trying to solve the Riemann hypothesis.”

“You’re trying to solve one of the Millennium Prize problems?” Spencer asked in surprise.

“I’m surprised you know about it.” Most people you talked to had no idea what the Millennium Prize problems were. You were sure they wondered why a university would tenure you just so you could keep trying to solve a math problem.

“I’ve looked over them before,” Spencer admitted shyly, like he was waiting for you to make fun of him.

“No luck?”

“Way beyond my level.” The two of you laughed slightly. A slower song began to play and couples danced slowly across the dance floor.

“Want to dance?” you suggested. Spencer hesitated and you worried for a second that you had overstepped, but then he smiled and held out his hand.

Neither one of you were very good dancers, but what you lacked in talent you made up for in smiles. You continued to discuss everything from mathematical theory to what working at the FBI was like to classic literature.

“Do you think this is how the Manderley fancy dress party would have gone if Mrs. Danvers hadn’t sabotaged the narrator?” you asked. “They could have been as happy as us dancing.”

Spencer thought for a moment. “I don’t think so. I don’t think they could have been truly happy together with all of the secrets still between them.”

“True,” you agreed. “So you think we’re happy?”

When Spencer smiled at you, your heart fluttered. “I’m pretty happy. This is going a lot better than I expected. Not that I didn’t think you sounded great when we talked online! But Derek said something about you sounding too good to be true, so I started to worry that you wouldn’t be as amazing in person, but I shouldn’t have. You’re even better in person.”

You smiled gently back at Spencer. “You’re better in person too.”

Spencer studied your face intently for a few seconds, a look of uncertainty on his face. “Can I kiss you?” he asked quickly, like he was afraid he would lose his nerve if he waited.

Your smile grew. “I’d like that,” you responded.

Spencer put one hand gently on your cheek, the other still resting on your waist, and brought his lips down to meet yours. When the two of you broke away, still smiling widely, you were totally oblivious to the looks of shock and delight on the FBI agents’ faces.

“I think we might have to do this again sometime, Mrs. de Winters.”

“I think so, Maxim.”

Without speaking, the two of you leaned in again, and you were able to capture Spencer’s lips once more. You didn’t think you’d get tired of this any time soon. If only you had taken Penelope up on her offer to set the two of you up last year.

[melofanish]

Drunk In This Love They Have

@carlosreyesweek Day 7: Writer’s Choice

Summary: Owen wakes up with a start. He's not sure what exactly roused him, but he's awake now. He rubs his eyes, taking a moment to stretch out on the bed. The flicker of the clock attracts his vision, and he reads the blue "1:23 AM" with a frown. Why did he wake up after midnight?!

The lights inside turn on, and the door finally closes. Owen takes a few moments sitting in the car alone, in the dark. He supposes he should feel some loneliness, but he doesn’t. All he feels is happiness and giddiness for his son, amusement regarding the entire situation, and hope for the future that TK and Carlos will be sharing together.

Tags: Carlos Reyes, TK Strand, Owen Strand, Established Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Soft Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Sweet Carlos Reyes (9-1-1 Lone Star), Drunk Carlos Reyes, Good Parent Owen Strand.

Warnings: Drunk flirting and awkward dad existence. 

This is such a crack, dumbass fic but I love it so much. It has just been finished too. I have two settings apparently. Finish a fic a month before the event, or three hours before the end of the event.

This idea came from the  "Mi Amor Tarlos" discord server. Major kudos to Kate <3

As usual, @lire-casander is the best human to ever exist. I am, once again, writing this as she goes over the final edit of the fic. She's beauty, she's grace, she's right about the best thing I've gotten out of this fandom <3

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters depicted, they belong to their creators. I'm writing just for the fun

Read on AO3.

---

Owen wakes up with a start. He's not sure what exactly roused him, but he's awake now. He rubs his eyes, taking a moment to stretch out on the bed. The flicker of the clock attracts his vision, and he reads the blue "1:23 AM" with a frown. Why did he wake up after midnight?!

He turns to a side, pulling his blanket up around his shoulder and trying to find a position that'll send him back to slumber when his phone pings. He decides to ignore it, the edges of sleep tickling his consciousness when it pings again, and again.

With a sigh, he reaches forward and grabs his phone, the glare of the screen blinding him for a moment until he turns on the bedside table. He looks back at the phone, finding five messages from Carlos.

A chill runs through Owen. For a moment he thinks something happened with TK. But then he remembers that they're both off for the next day, and he knows that TK is asleep in his room down the hall. He relaxes immediately, only to frown again when his phone pings with yet another message. He opens the thread.

Carlos Reyes: HIIIIIII TJ

Carlos Reyes: TL***

Carlos Reyes: TK********

Carlos Reyes: i drank sooo mucj

Carlos Reyes: i am frunk

Carlos Reyes: i lobe yoi sooo muvj

Owen stares at his phone, blinking in confusion. Carlos is… drunk, that much he's sure of. And he loves his son, which he's glad about. But he also seems to think that Owen is actually TK. Which is unfortunate. He's about to reply with a clarification when he gets four new messages in quick succession.

Carlos Reyes: i niss tou too

Carlos Reyes: van i see yiu when I het hone?

Carlos Reyes: i wamma cuffle

Carlos Reyes: cuddle

He can't help the smile that graces his face. Seeing how Carlos still thinks about his son, even in a drunk state, warms a deep corner of his soul. It's the kind of love he's always hoped for his son.

Carlos Reyes: amd kiss tou

Carlos Reyes: ans fuck yoi

And then it's no longer wholesome. He groans, dropping the phone and covering his face, as if that'll somehow erase the image that's been painted in his mind. He moves his phone away, putting it down on the table when it pings again, and again, and again.

He groans out loud again, reaching for the phone as he takes a deep breath. Two more pings come in during the time it takes him to do that. He turns the screen on, bringing the thread back up.

Carlos Reyes: uoire thw best thinj to eber hapoen to me

Carlos Reyes: i wanma lobe yoi forevr

Carlos Reyes: ill dhow yoi wiyh endless kissed

Owen glares at the phone, as if it can travel through the phone and reach Carlos. He sees the three dots bubbling about and he makes a decision, bringing up his own keyboard to type a reply.

Owen Strand: Carlos, this is Owen. You're texting the wrong Strand.

The bubbles pause for a moment, and Owen thinks he's going to get an apology text, or maybe even he'll get ignored and that will be tomorrow's problem. But they come back on the screen three seconds later and then he's getting a message.

Carlos Reyes: anf lobing sex

Carlos Reyes: yoi shoufl pivk me up do we cab habe s fucj

In a decision made over a split second, Owen is getting out of bed and marching down the hall to TK's room. He pauses at the door, straining to listen for movement. When he doesn't hear anything he softly knocks on the door. He gets a soft "hmm" almost immediately. So he swings the door open.

He finds TK in bed, blanket crowded at his feet and a book in his hands, eyes wide and awake. He pauses for a second, he was sure TK would be asleep. They did just return from a twenty-four-hour shift a few hours ago. He’s about to ask when TK beats him to it.

"You okay?" TK asks, looking at the clock on his bedside table. "It's almost one-thirty, dad. Why are you still awake?"

Owen sighs, remembering the reason he came in search of TK in the first place. There's a lot of things he would have seen himself telling his son, his own blood and flesh, at an hour after midnight. This is not one of them. And yet.

"Your boyfriend is drunk and wants to have sex with you," he says, going straight to the point.

TK stares at him, head turning to a side in pure confusion as his forehead creases into a frown. "My what? What?!"

"Your. Boyfriend. Is. Drunk. And. Wants. To. Have. Sex. With. You," he repeats.

"Wait, how do you know, what are you talking about?!" He asks, putting the book down and coming to a weird half-seated position where he has one leg half bent out in front of him and the other is tucked underneath him.

As if on cue, Owen's phone pings two more times. He brings the phone up, reading the messages quickly and then he's stepping into TK's room, scrolling up to the beginning of the messages and handing the phone over.

Carlos Reyes: r u oivking me uo?

Carlos Reyes: ill oay you eith sex

He watches as TK's eyes move from one side to the other on the screen, smiling at parts and then eyes widening at others, before he ends with a hand to his face, hiding away behind his palms.

"Oh, god," he groans. "He's so drunk."

Owen can't help the snort that rises through his throat, shaking in head in amusement. "Yes, that's an understatement."

The phone rings again in TK's hand. They share a look before TK turns the screen on and reads the messages. Owen doesn't want to know what the contents are when they're the cause of a bright red flush that takes over TK's face and neck. Still, he can't resist when the opportunity presents itself like this.

"What's he saying?"

TK stutters, looking up at Owen then down at the phone. "He's asking if I'm picking him up. The designated driver is drunk too."

Owen might have not been there for the large part of his kid's life, but he still knows when he's hiding something. And right now, TK is hiding something. But he understands; he knows his relationship with TK isn't usual, he knows that they are way too comfortable discussing their sex lives, but Carlos isn't. And Owen can't do much more than nod in acceptance when his son is trying to protect and respect his boyfriend's dignity.

"Okay, get dressed. Be at the door in ten minutes," he gets off the bed, heading to the door.

"Wait, wait, what?" TK calls. "Where are we going?"

Owen turns around slowly, facing TK, as if the answer wasn't obvious. "We're going to pick him up. You don't have a license yet, so I'm driving," he explains. "So let's go, your man is waiting."

It takes TK a moment, but then he’s getting on his feet and moving around the bed into his closet. Owen closes the door and walks to his own room, changing his pyjama pants to sweatpants and slipping into a pair of sneakers. He’s at the front door in minutes, keys and wallet in hand. TK comes barrelling through the house behind him in seconds.

They’re in the car, Owen turning the ignition on, when a quick succession of four or five messages ping through. TK glances at him out of the corner of his eye before he focuses back on his hands and turns the screen on. Owen catches the edge of a picture, and, from what he could tell, it’s just a selfie of Carlos and his partner, Jack. He decides to focus on the task in hand, asking TK for the location of the bar and swerving out of their driveway.

The drive isn’t that long, the bar a mere fifteen minutes away from their home. They spend the ride singing along to the music coming from the Bluetooth speakers, until a few messages ping through, at which point TK would stop singing, pull up the messages, type something in reply, and then get back to the singing.

They’re about half-way there when the ringing sounds around the entire car. Owen recognises the call notification and presses on the reply button a little too fast for his brain to remember that Carlos is texting him right now, and this is probably Carlos calling, and the phone is connected to the car’s Bluetooth system.

“HIIIIIIIIIII!” Carlos’ loud, clearly drunk and slurring voice fills the car a bare second after he’s pressed the button on his steering wheel, his tone so high-pitched Owen finds himself wincing.

“Hi! Hi, baby, hi,” TK is already screaming in reply, bringing the phone to his mouth only to pull it away when he realises it’s all around him, and then just saying it into the void. “Are you okay? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything is perfecto,” Carlos answers with a sigh, his voice muffled and mixing with the bar around him now that he isn’t screaming. “I just miss you, so, so, so much. And I’m sad.”

Owen glances at TK, the look of worry on his face mirrored on TK’s.

“Why are you sad? Is everything okay?”

“Jack is hugging and kissing Alana, and I’m here, alone and lonely,” Carlos replies in a tone that makes Owen right about a hundred percent sure that he’s pouting. He shakes his head as TK chuckles.

“You’re not lonely baby, you’re there with your friends,” he reminds Carlos.

“But my friends are kissing each other and making out and I think Alana has her hand in Jack’s pants and I’m here without your hands in my pa-”

The rest of his sentence is cut by a short scream from TK as he fumbles with the phone, finally pressing the button that disconnects the Bluetooth. Owen manages to resist laughing out loud but he has no power against the grin that splits his face wide. He feigns ignorance as he listens to TK whispering his replies. Somehow, even through the phone and the distance, he still hears Carlos, loud, loveable and oh so drunk.

A few minutes later and they’re finally pulling up the bar, pulling into the parking lot. Owen finds the closest free spot, putting the car in park and turning to face TK, who has his head down, the phone still pressed to his ear. He seems to have not even realised that they’ve arrived at their destination.

“Hey,” he nudges TK, nodding towards the bar when TK looks up at him. “Go get him.”

TK smiles at Owen, opening the door and dropping his phone into the seat. “I’ll call you if I need anything?” he asks, closing the door and moving towards the bar when Owen nods.

He follows TK until he disappears into the threshold of the bar, then closes his eyes and rests his head on the backrest of his seat as he sighs. He isn’t sure how his night came to this end, but here he is. He’s also sure he would have never done the same for any of TK’s previous boyfriends. But Carlos isn’t any boyfriend. Carlos is… Carlos is good. Carlos is a different type of man than the ones TK has been with. Carlos is nice, and respectful, and sweet. Carlos loves his son.

He supposes that’s what this all comes down to. The fact that he knows that Carlos loves his son, the way he always knew TK deserves to be loved. And he knows that TK loves Carlos, too. It’s the love that he’s only ever dreamt of TK having, a dream that seemed to get farther and farther away with every new man TK introduced him to. Until Carlos walked into TK’s life. He doesn’t want to undermine TK’s own work and tribulations to make himself better, but Carlos has no doubt been a large part of the support system he’s had during that time.

And so, if Owen has to wake up at one-thirty in the morning to drive his son to a bar so he can pick up said son’s drunk boyfriend, he’s willing to do that in a heartbeat.

A dull crash against the side of the car has Owen opening his eyes in alarm and looking at the side-mirrors of the car. He doesn’t see anything in the driver’s side of the car, but when he looks towards the passenger’s side, well, he sees TK, back pressed to the side of the car. And he sees Carlos, hovering over TK. And he sees two tongues fighting in the middle of the space between them before their mouths slam back together. And then, through the car, he hears the loud, unmistakable moan.

“Oh, no. No, no, no,” he groans, looking back in front of him. It’s one thing for him to read what Carlos wants to do to his son, it’s a completely different thing for him to see it starting to happen. He takes a few deep breaths, glancing at the mirror every few moments. When he sees that they’re still in the same position, he leans over the console, knocking on the window until TK breaks the kiss and turns around.

His eyes widen when he sees Owen, hands coming up from wherever they are to hold Carlos around the shoulders. TK might have seen Owen, but Carlos seems to still be in his own fairyland; he trails kisses down TK’s neck until he gets to a spot and then his head stops in there. Owen doesn’t need to guess what Carlos is doing right now, the way TK’s eyes flutter shut tell him all he needs to know.

But no, this is too much. He leans over, knocking on the window again until TK’s eyes open and takes a deep breath, hands tightening around Carlos’ shoulders as he slowly pulls him away. Owen did not need to see the line of saliva connecting Carlos’ lips to TK’s neck.

He hears them exchange a few sentences, voice low and sultry, if he has to guess. Carlos’ eyes are blown wide, a smile permanently glued on his face, even as he nods and shakes his head in reply to whatever TK is saying. He hears Carlos giggle one last time and then TK is moving them back enough to open the back door.

“Hello, Mister Strand,” Carlos greets him the moment the door is open, words slurred, smile wide and eyes bright. “How ya doin?”

“I’m all good, Carlos, how are you?” he asks, chuckling as TK helps Carlos settle in.

“I’m fantastic! Did you know that TK came to pick me up because I asked him to?!”

This time Owen really can’t help the laugh that booms out of his chest. He hears TK snicker as well, Carlos joining in at the end. “Did he now?”

“Yes, yes, he did,” he nods his head almost aggressively. “He’s the bestest ever. I love him so much.”

“I love you too, baby,” TK replies, kissing Carlos softly on the lips as he finally finishes securing the seatbelt. Owen turns around, focusing on turning on the car -as if it takes that much concentration- to give them a moment alone. He hears them exchange “I love you’s” a few times and then TK retreats, closing the back door and opening the front one to get his own self into the car.

TK is barely a foot into the car when Carlos calls from the backseat. “TK?”

“Yeah, what’s up?” he asks, turning around in his seat to look at Carlos.

“Why are you so far away? How am I supposed to hold you?” Carlos speaks in the same tone as earlier, the one Owen thought was coming from a pouting face. Looking at the rearview mirror, he sees that there is indeed a pout on Carlos.

“I’m right here, baby,” TK answers, extending an arm to rub at Carlos’ curls.

“But, you’re so far away. I’m all alone in this big seat! You should sit here! With me! You can even sit on m-”

“OKAY!!!!” TK interrupts yet again. “Let’s not do that, baby. We need to be safe.”

Owen hears a sigh and then Carlos is mumbling his approval. He waits until TK is twisted back in his seat and has put his seatbelt on before he starts the journey back.

It’s only then that he realises they haven’t discussed where they would be driving back to.

“Where are we going, TK?”

“TO SEX LAND!” Carlos screams, and a perfectly coordinated groan leaves both the Strand men.

“Carlos, no!” TK retorts.

“Carlos, YES!” Carlos says back.

Owen sees TK opening his mouth from the corner of his eye, but Carlos evidently isn’t finished speaking.

“Hey, Owen, you should take us to my house, that way we can make as much noise as we want,” he says, much to the dismay of everyone that isn’t Carlos. He doesn’t seem to realise what’s wrong with what he’s saying, he just keeps talking. “TK gets really loud at times, and I do too to be honest, and it’s so hard to stay quiet when we are in your house, so we should go to my house.”

As funny as this entire situation is, the conviction with which Carlos says it leaves Owen no choice but to respect him, even as TK tries to sink deeper into his seat in an attempt to blend with the upholstery.

“Okay, Carlos, I’ll take you guys to your house,” Owen says, shaking his head at both Carlos and TK’s shenanigans.

“Thank yooou, Owen,” Carlos says. Owen is about to focus back on the street when Carlos gasps, and the sound of skin hitting skin echoes around in the car.

Owen looks through the rearview mirror, finding Carlos with his hands covering his mouth, and eyes wide, as if he just saw something from his nightmares. The empty streets make it easy for Owen to cross two lanes and stop in the sideway, both Strands turning around to face a now teary-eyed Carlos.

Owen turns on the overhead lights as TK fumbles with his seatbelt, trying to get it undone, even as he keeps his eyes on Carlos, asking him what’s wrong. It’s only when he’s in the backseat with him that Carlos unclutches his face and wipes his tears.

“I was rude to your dad, TK. I was so rude to your dad, my mom is going to be so mad at me,” he whispers. “I didn’t say mister, TK.”

Owen feels the concern -so thick a moment ago- melt and dissolve into nothing. He sinks into his seat, turning to sit straight. TK stays back with Carlos, wiping his tears and whispering sweet nothings as he assures him that his mother would not be mad at him. Carlos tries to fight him on it, saying that she most definitely would be, but he stops pretty quick once TK asks if he trusts him.

He uses the distraction to grab his phone from the glove compartment, where TK disposed of it earlier. He brings up the camera, making sure that the flash is off, and presses on record.

He can’t see the screen and what he’s filming, but through the rearview mirror, he sees TK wiping Carlos’ tears, forehead leaning on him as he presses kisses to his temple in between whispers and smiles. He sees Carlos hold onto TK’s arm, looking up at him with a soft smile and wet tears. A few moments later Carlos giggles and TK smiles at him, pressing a final kiss to his forehead before he straightens up and buckles himself next to Carlos.

He’s about to turn off the camera when Carlos presses a kiss to TK’s shoulder and lays his head onto it. His hand runs along TK’s arm, intertwining their fingers. “I love you,” he whispers.

TK takes a breath, a soft smile gracing his face as he turns his face to another kiss atop Carlos’ curls.

Owen turns off the screen, putting the phone away and switching off the light. He turns on the car, focusing back on the journey.

By the time he’s pulling up into Carlos’ driveway, the back seat is quiet. He switches the car off, looking back to find Carlos -head still on TK’s shoulder- with his eyes closed and mouth open in soft, almost inaudible snores. TK has the fondest expression on his face as he looks down at Carlos, a hand wrapped around his, the other sweeping around Carlos’ head, playing with his curls.

He almost regrets bursting their bubble, but he doesn’t think the car is the most comfortable place for them all to be right now. So he lays a hand on TK’s knee, waiting until he looks up at him, looking almost dazed. “We’re here,” he whispers.

TK looks out of the window, recognition dawning on him. He nods in reply before he focuses down on Carlos, whispering to him softly as his eyes flutter open and he slowly rouses from his doze.

Carlos looks up at TK, a brief moment of a smile coming onto him before he stretches his limbs out as much as the car allows and then he curls back into his place, mumbling incoherence.

“Come on, baby, we’re here,” TK whispers. “Let’s go inside.”

Carlos opens his eyes at that, staring up at TK. “We gon’ cuddle?” he asks.

TK chuckles, shaking his head, the loving look never leaving his face. “Yeah, let’s go cuddle.”

Owen watches as TK helps himself and then Carlos out of the car, and then holds Carlos around the waist as they walk up the porch. TK takes a moment to slip his hand into Carlos’ front pocket, producing a set of keys that he inserts into the front door lock.

As they move into the house, TK turns and nods at Owen, and he returns it. When Carlos looks at him though and turns to do the same, with much more enthusiasm, waving at him, face scrunched with a wide grin, Owen can’t help but repeat it to him, waving back at the giant dork.

The lights inside the house turn on, and the door finally closes. Owen takes a few moments sitting in the car alone, in the dark. He supposes he should feel some loneliness, but he doesn’t. All he feels is happiness and giddiness for his son, amusement regarding the entire situation, and hope for the future that TK and Carlos will be sharing together.

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Whoever your three favorite Batman villains are, following your "Henchman shared custody" thing (Because I need headcanons to fix my shitty day): Say there's this one henchperson who just... even these villains know something is wrong, they're so clingy and desperate to please. Eventually Joker calls them and says "Oh yeah, they have anxiety and PTSD from years of physical, verbal, and emotional abuse" because let's face it he knows this shit

Oooh, I wanna get right into this! However, I’m afraid I can only do one right now. Mr. Freeze is my ABSOLUTE favorite, though.

Mr. Freeze:

He was already kind of socially awkward to begin with - a lot of academics generally are - but now that he’s been pretty much without strong emotion and the general public for so long, he treats the henchman as independent people that need little support.

This can cause a bluntness that most tolerate, some appreciate, and others are put off by.

This henchperson in question is glad that they don’t have to explain their unwillingness to go home at night or their overwhelming need to be perfect, but a small part of them wishes that they’d ask.

Finally, it all comes to a head when the assistant accidentally knocks over a set of beakers, which shatter on the hard floor.

Mr. Freeze, without turning from his current project, asks them to sweep it up and get a new set. He isn’t happy about the delay or the money that will have to be spent on new beakers, but he isn’t too angry. After all, they’re just beakers.

The villain hears shards of glass being swept, but not very fast or with much effort, which is very odd for this particular henchman.

He turns around to find them on their knees, their shoulders shaking, too distraught to sweep the glass. Their hands were covered by the ski mask they were required to wear, but it was clear they were trying to keep back sobs.

Mr. Freeze didn’t question the behavior at the time - he assumed it was a normal emotional reaction - but as time went on, these events started to happen more and more frequently. Soon, Mr. Freeze could barely get through the day without seeing the henchperson in the midst of a stifled breakdown.

The work got done, but at what cost?

So, without any knowledge on the only subject he was ignorant in (emotions), he called Joker.

“Howdy! This is the Funny Farm, Old McJoker speaking. What can I do for you, pardner?”

“I don’t have time for your antics, clown.”

“Ouch. Cold shouldered again by Frosty the Snowman. I thought you were supposed to be some happy, jolly soul! Where’s your Christmas spirit, french fry?”

“Firstly, it’s August. Secondly, and I cannot stress this enough, my last name is pronounced freeze. Thirdly, I require your assistance, not a half-baked pun.”

“You’re getting a little nippy on more than my nose, Jack. Either you can get rid of that bad attitude, or you can make like snow and flake, got it? Today hasn’t really given me much reason to smile, Fry. And if you push my buttons, it’ll be out of the grease and into the fire for you.”

Mr. Freeze checked himself, took a deep breath, then described his issue with the henchperson.

“From my experience and research, humans don’t usually experience such reactions. Was I too harsh? Was my brusqueness unacceptable? Have I really been away from my own kind for so long...?”

There was a brief silence on the other end, but Joker eventually spoke. There was no humor in his voice.

“You mean Emma? That bright-eyed, bushy-tailed blonde? She’s what Wall Street would call unfortunate, but what the rest of us call crazy. And not the fun sort of crazy, either - mostly just pathetic. Like a dog on one of those activism commercials. On one hand, awwww, but on the other, what can you do? The damage has already been done.”

“What...happened to her?”

“What hasn’t, Jack? Parents kicked the bucket, she got bounced around a few foster homes, landed on one that had some sort of pageant dream she lived vicariously through her, a car crash killed daddy number six, and mommy soon after with a few too many special pills. She won a big pageant the night after the funeral and used the money to get herself an apartment in the bad part of Gotham, but ran dry a few weeks later. Signed up for the Henchman Program, bada-bing, bada-boom, there’s Emma.”

“How do you know so much?”

Another silence, then a half-hearted laugh.

“Some mixture of morbid curiosity and a love for tragedy. Isn’t that funny, Freeze? The King of Clowns being a sucker for sad endings and bitter tears? For dead parents and freak accidents and runny mascara? What can I say? I’m a gossip.”

Mr. Freeze felt what little rage he could welling up in his chest.

“She isn’t for your entertainment. Her unfortunate circumstances aren’t a punchline for your pathetic charade - the only true tragedy is your failed attempt at dark humor.”

Joker snarled. “Bye bye, Fry. Say hi to Nora for me, won’t you? I’ve heard she isn’t feeling too well...I’ve heard there has been a chill going around...”

Mr. Freeze gritted his teeth and slammed the phone back on the receiver. He had had enough.

However, his conversation with Joker made him take initiative and make the work environment better for Emma.

Freeze started with giving the henchwoman a place to stay. He disguised the repurposed rooms as a commute issue, so he encouraged anyone who would rather stay in the workplace to use them if their shift lasted more than a day.

Emma snatched the opportunity up like a starving dog, as did a few others. The group became fast friends, and Mr. Freeze could frequently hear them in the guest bedrooms playing board games or sharing stories.

Her mental health steadily improved, as did her work ethic and physical health. After a while, she had made such a recovery that Mr. Freeze asked her to be one of his permanent henchmen.

She accepted ecstatically, taking the martial arts and survival courses with unquenchable determination.

After a few weeks as an official Fractal, she was promoted to team leader, which Mr. Freeze bestowed with great satisfaction.

It was almost like having a daughter of his own...

[the-lincyclopedia]

* adapted from @librajiminn on twitter

A fun game to celebrate 2020 ending! The rules are simple: recommend your favorite OMGCP fics so everyone can enjoy them, while trying to fill in enough slots to get a bingo!

This is going to get long, so I’ll put it under a cut. Also, I’m too orderly to try to shoehorn my favorite fics into these particular prompts, so I’m just going to go right to left, top to bottom, taking the prompts literally, until it’s bedtime. 

1. first fic you bookmarked: “Here Comes the Sun” by @doggernaut, 19k, G, no warnings, Zimbits

For the past month, the man with the baby and the sad blue eyes has been stopping in for a cup of coffee an hour before closing. He always sits in an overstuffed chair in the corner and drinks his coffee while his baby sleeps next to him in the stroller. Sometimes he pulls a book out from the diaper bag he carries with him; other times he just stares straight ahead as if in a daze. He never asks for a refill, always respectfully gathers his things and leaves ten minutes before the shop officially closes. Eric desperately wants to ask him what his story is. 

My notes: I read Check Please over the course of two days in June of 2019. On the second day, right after catching up, I looked at @peppermintfeminist‘s AO3 bookmarks and found a fic by @doggernaut. Then I read just about everything @doggernaut had ever posted. It was glorious. This fic in particular is so cute. 

2. most recent fic you bookmarked: “Flight Check” by @edgarallanrose, 15k, E, no warnings (though there is a creepy/handsy guy at a club to watch out for), primarily Zimbits with most of the other popular pairings in the background

Flight attendant Eric “Bitty” Bittle has been working his way up at Samwell Airlines for the past four years, and his new promotion has provided him the opportunity to work with a brand-new crew. Unfortunately for Bitty, that crew includes an incredibly handsome but equally grumpy pilot, Captain Jack Zimmermann, who seems to want nothing to do with Bitty. Even worse, Jack refuses to eat any of Bitty's baked goods. Will Bitty be able to win the captain over? Or is there another reason Jack has been avoiding Bitty?

My notes: There are a lot of great things about this fic--Jack’s character arc, Lardo’s dialogue, that scene in Seattle--but the reason I bookmarked it is the scene where Bitty’s basically slut-shaming himself and Jack gently but firmly tells Bitty not to do that and that it was the creep’s fault. 

3. a fic that made you cry actual tears: “a little bit more” by @ivecarvedawoodenheart, 14k, T, no warnings, Holsom

“I just wanted,” he says, “a perfect day. With you. Because it’s our last day together and our last day being here as undergrads and we’re kissing the ice tonight, and the weather’s supposed to be beautiful, and you’re moving tomorrow and Holtzy I just — I don’t want to be missing you already.” Holster wipes his eyes before he even realizes he’s crying. Behind him, Ransom sighs. “One more day where everything’s the same,” he says, feeling around blindly for Rans’ fingers. He feels Rans nod as he laces their fingers together. “Yeah. Yeah, Rans. I’d like that a lot.” __________________________

Holsom after graduation and throughout the subsequent six months after Holster signs to an expansion team in Oregon, and realizes his feelings for Ransom too late. Holster's POV :) kinda angsty, but there's a happy ending :)

Inspired by shitty-check-please-aus: "Holster moves to Oregon while Ransom stays on the east coast. The time difference makes it difficult to talk and one day they wake up and realize they aren’t best bros anymore."

My notes: I almost never cry at fics. I searched “tears” in my fandom email account and only a handful of my fic comments came up, but Syd is a literal master of Holsom angst, always. 

4. longest fic you’ve read: “Like Real People Do” by @xiaq, 153k, M, No Warnings, Kent Parson x OC

Parson gestures with his spoon toward Hawke. “So am I allowed to ask about the service dog or is that not PC?”

“My medical history is more of a 3rd date conversation," Eli says.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Because. No one sticks around afterward and I like to live in glorious denial for a short period beforehand.”

It comes out more self-deprecating than he intended.

Parson looks…thoughtful. “Well, does this count as one or two?

“Pardon?”

“This. Ice cream. I mean, technically it’s a second location, but still the same night. So is this one date or two?”

“One,” Eli says firmly. “If it’s happening within the same three-hour period.”

“You’re the expert,” Parson says, which, he’s really, really, not, but ok.

“So still two dates to go then?” Parson continues.

“I—what?”

“We’ve got a roadie coming up but then we’re home for almost two weeks. When does your semester start?”

“You want to do this again?” Eli asks.

Parson stops idly twirling his spoon.

“You don’t?”

He does, Eli realizes. He really does. Because apparently he actually likes Kent fucking Parson.

My notes: Okay, this fic has my whole entire heart. I’ve read it multiple times in its entirety, and it’s almost twice as long as the full-length novel I’m querying. Eli is one of my favorite OCs I’ve ever seen in a fic (probably tied with Damian Navarro and Ari Paxton, both brainchildren of @fozmeadows). Anyway, this is probably going to be the next thing @themeaningoflifeischeese and I read out loud to each other. 

5. a fic you almost didn’t read: “when all else fails (i’ll still be right here)” by @whoacanada, 6k, T, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings (and I don’t remember if I think there’s stuff to warn for, sorry), Zimbits

The National Hockey League is resurrecting the Quebec City Nordiques, and the expansion draft hits the Falconers much harder than expected.

My notes: Given that this was for @omgcpheartbreakfest, I was worried this would be all angst--all hurt and no comfort. Which made me sad, because I love @whoacanada‘s writing but I wasn’t up for reading unresolved angst. But @doggernaut reblogged the fic, so I asked if the ending was sad, and it’s NOT! There is quite a bit of angst but the ending isn’t sad. 

6. a fic that convinced you on a ship you didn’t ship before: “it drops with the gravity of rain” by @geniusorinsanity, 16k, T, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings (attempted sexual assault by an OC), Nurseydex

It happens like this:

“I don’t--this is a bad idea,” Dex says, his lips still tingling, his hands shaking on Nursey’s hips where he’s shoved him away. “This is a really bad idea, Nurse. I can’t--We can’t do this.”

And there’s hurt in Nursey’s eyes and his bottom lip is swollen from Dex’s teeth, but he says, “Okay.” And then, “It’s chill, Dex. Just friends, then.”

It happens like this:

“Actually,” Nursey says, talking more to his granola than to them, “I kind of have a date.”

It happens like this:

When Nursey calls, Dex almost doesn’t pick up the phone.

My notes: So I was really confused and a little disturbed when I first found out people shipped Nursey and Dex. Like, Dex just wasn’t someone I trusted. But then I was moving out of the house I’d been living in, and I needed stuff to listen to as I packed and cleaned, and @khashanakalashtar‘s podfics came in clutch. I gave this one a try even though I didn’t like Dex, and @geniusorinsanity blew. My. Mind.

7. a fic from an unusual POV: “Excuse Me While I Kiss This Guy” by @porcupine-girl, 8k, G, no warnings, Zimbits

Jesse Snowden knows all the best restaurants and gourmet food shops in Providence, so when Jack Zimmermann starts bringing in incredible baked goods, he's eager to find out where the new bakery is. When he meets the man behind the pies, he decides that there's no way Jack could really appreciate this guy's talent the way he does, even if they are friends. He starts hiring Jack's chef on the side, in the hopes that maybe once Bitty's done with college he'll come work for Jesse.

Good thing there is absolutely no way whatsoever that Jesse could possibly be misinterpreting this situation.

My notes: Oh my gosh this is so funny. The secondhand embarrassment factor is huge, but like, the hilarity. 

8. a comfort fic: “Don’t Need to Compromise” by @khashanakalashtar, 11k, E, no warnings, PB&J

“Hey,” said Kent, unknowingly setting off a chain of events that would change his entire life, “you said that like you know from experience. Have you done this before?”

Jack and Bitty have not done polyamory before, but they do know Ransom and Holster’s polycule, which contains March.

And March?

March is trans.

My notes: I’m in love with @khashanakalashtar‘s entire Directionverse series (and honestly a lot of their other writing), but “Don’t Need to Compromise,” which is the second fic in the series, just makes my heart swell especially much. The gender feels are so good, and all the characters are so good to each other, and when I listen to this on walks I have to actively try not to arm-flap. 

9. a fic you wish could be a movie: “Ice Crew Please!” by @petals42, 61k, T, no warnings, Zimbits

Jack Zimmermann was drafted first by the Providence Falconers when he was eighteen years old. He is good at hockey. Very good. His team won the Cup his second year and now, in his third year, they are looking good. Jack should be on top of the world. And some days, he manages to convince himself he is.

He’s not, of course.

Enter the Ice Crew.

AKA: The Ice Crew AU

My notes: This fic has its tender moments, but what I love most about it is the sheer goofiness. Ransom and Holster and Shitty are HILARIOUS in this one. I’d love to see their shenanigans in movie form. 

10. a WIP you read as it was updated: “Something Borrowed” by @fozmeadows, 48k, M, no warnings, Kent x OC

All things considered, Ari did his best to prepare himself for the advent of Kent Parson, Potentially Difficult Housemate and New Star Liney. The problem was that his best was an idiot.

My notes: So technically I didn’t start reading this until the first 19 chapters were posted. But there was still plenty of anticipation for the final few chapters. And like, @fozmeadows (as mentioned above) makes EXCELLENT OCs. And I love how their fics consistently convey that having bad things happen to you does not mark the end of your story. 

Okay, it’s bedtime, so have 10 excellent fics. I got bingo twice, because I went straight across on the top two rows.

[oraclemilf]

ok but i'm loving your takes on the female characters - like it's very disconcerting to watch this show with a lot of girls and then have almost none of them be actual friends, and when they interact they're either fighting or it's about a boy. a lot of them r reduced to stereotypes too like with sam and her "i'm not like other girls" spiel and paulina's... entire thing lol. i'd say at least valerie is well rounded but she never rly interacts with the other girls positively :/

“and like it's an older show where those kinds of messages were everywhere in kids media especially but it still sucks lol at least we can take what we like from fanon and totally change it into our own because butch really did them dirty” 2/2  

Yeah exactly. Not to be feminist on main but holy fuck do the girls in DP have issues. Like I get the whole argument that “it's an early 2000s show what can you do” and “all of the characters were shittily written” but the reason most of the female characters are bad in DP is specifically because they were written through a misogynistic lens. Like the show presents itself as having strong female characters but really all they do to break the gender binary is being able to fight. (I will give them points for letting the girls get kicked and punched the same as the men but that is the ONLY praise they are getting out of me.)

To expand on the “takes” in my previous ask: 

 -Dora, Ember, Desiree, Kitty, and Spectra all had boy/appearance-based backstories. Like seriously, the only female ghost I can think of whose backstory wasn’t entirely based on a man was Pandora and she appears in literally one episode for literally half the episode. (Also if you look at the myth of Pandora it's literally about a woman created by the gods to be the downfall of man so she doesn’t get any feminism points either.) Like listen. I’m not arguing that all the female ghosts should be totally retconned so they never interact with men at all. In fact, I think Kitty,though she has a heteronormative ultimate power, Dora, and Desiree’s backstories work really well for their characters. But Ember and Spectra? Why should Ember die because “she was so sad she was stood up she slept through a house fire” wtf?That literally doesn’t really work with her musician motif at all? How would that even work? Bitch did you have no alarms? Nobody was screaming or anything? Like its so astronomically stupid.  @grimgrinningghoul​ has some cool ideas for alternate Spectra motivations in this post so I really won’t get into that here but women being only motivated by their appearance is such a stale take. 

-Maddie legit says "behind every genius woman is a genius man" This is self explanatory really. Like come on girl seriously. But yeah, to elaborate on Maddie they could have had a great strong mother figure. I mean she was a scientist and a black belt for crying out loud! Then they kind of back track because you can’t make women too self-sufficient and have her practice traditional housewife roles, always take a back seat to Jack (even though she’s usually in the right) and have her put up with Vlad’s creepy advances far too much. Not ALL of these things are bad mind you and I probably wouldn’t mind her character too much besides for this one line but looking at it from a broader perspective it doesn’t really come together to make the best picture you know? Also, her sister Alicia - who was probably the most gender-non-conforming character in the show, is treated like she’s a joke or trashy by the narrative. (Don’t even get me started on the constant body-shaming either)

Paulina, Sam, Valerie, Jazz and Dani’s arcs all center around another male character (Danny) Ok this one is a tad more controversial because like yes, I understand Danny is the main character. It makes sense that most character growth is facilitated through him. Hell, even really progressive shows like Steven Universe filter character growth through the main male character. However, there are a couple key distinctions I’d like to point out. For example, Steven Universe has a Third-person limited omniscient POV. meaning all actions in SU are filtered directly through Steven’s perspective. This isn’t the case Danny Phantom, which has a Third-person objective POV, meaning that the story can follow many characters separate from each other, not just Danny. Also the female characters in Steven Universe are already 3 dimensional fully established characters without Steven and it’s even touched on in universe that the characters learn and grow without Steven’s help. This isn’t the case in DP. Paulina's main narrative shift is from being crazy about boys in general to being a devoted fan of Phantom. Sam’s whole arc is about getting together with Danny. Jazz’s arc is about learning how to best support Danny in ghost hunting. Val and Dani were probably two of the better female characters - despite still having Danny-centric arcs. Unfortunately, not only were their plans for character development cut short but any girl-power lines they may have had (something about there being no weak girls idk I’m too lazy to find it) feels fake and pander-y because of all the previous bad examples. 

TL;DR I know it's easy to be like “who cares we don’t even respect canon anyway” but I think when source material perpetrates bad messages it’s important to view the content you are working with through a critical lens so you don’t maintain harmful ideas within your own work.

((sorry I hijacked your ask to get on a soap box but I had THOUGHTS about this topic))

[darling-i-read-it]

Sparring

Will Graham x reader, subtle Hannibal Lecter x reader

Word Count: 1.5k 

Warnings: injuries, spoilers for hannibal 

Author’s Note: I’m gonna admit I was glad you chose Will in the end because that would also be my choice and he’s my favorite by far so this was fun to write. But the parts where Hannibal were sad was something else so who knows, happy and sad all over. I hope you enjoy love!

Requested: by anon, I just found ur blog and you're amazing👌🏻I really need to read this scenario (or headcanon) in your writing style! I am so excited! Ok, ok. What if Will and Hannibal has a crush on same girl and try to win over her heart? What would they do to impess her and win her heart? And they find out she likes Will too. What would Willy react when she choosed him? Thanks if you decided to write this!

Summary: the request!

Genre: fluff on wills part, angst on hannibals 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director 

(not my gif)

Hannibal and Will had been having a go at each other for you since they first met you. It was at the same time unfortunately so neither of you got quite an edge on the other. You were working with Jack closely on the Chesapeake Ripper case as a profiler to back up Will’s statements when people brought up his health to refute him.

So you worked close with Will in that regard and you also had to see a psychiatrist which just so happened to be Hannibal. You didn’t get to choose him, Jack did and he promised that Hannibal was going to be good for you.

You were friends with both men in separate ways and unbeknownst to you, there was quite a spar going on behind the scenes about you.

Will sat across from Hannibal. They were both sitting in chairs in his office during the session but there was an unspoken agreement in place that little would be done to benefit Will’s health here. Granted, ever since Will had gotten out of prison there was little discussion there anyway. They were going to discuss you.

“Have you seen her?” Will asked, his leg moving quickly in a nervous tick he didn’t know he had. Hannibal didn’t even pick it up because this new conversation was something he had to be on guard for. 

“This morning. She brought me some of the cookies she had baked,” Hannibal said, watching Will’s reaction to that. It was surprisingly positive.

“Cookies we baked together last night. She invited me over after her session with you to talk.” Hannibal pretended it didn’t phase him and nodded slowly.

“What did she need to talk about?” Hannibal asked. Will shrugged. He had always been more physically responsive than Hannibal while they had conversations. Hannibal used to chalk it up to his constant nerves but now it seemed to be so nonchalant like he had you in the bag as though you were something to be caught.

“Her life. We’re friends, it’s what friends do.” Hannibal was reminded that you and him were in fact patient and doctor but he pushed the thought out of his head as he looked over at Will who was giving him a smug look.

“Is she alright?”

“Shouldn’t you know? As her psychiatrist?” Will asked. There was a knock on the door and Will suddenly lost all confidence that he had just had. They both knew it was you coming to pick up Will because you had dropped him off. They stood up and walked over there.

There was a quick conversation that meant nothing to you, Hannibal could tell. Then you and Will were gone and Hannibal was alone.

Will and Hannibal had been going about this in different ways. Hannibal knew he was charming and he had been hoping that that would pay off through your sessions and when you saw each other at work. But Will was taking a more humane connection approach. Interesting.

It wasn’t until you were hurt that everything changed. The constant back and forth in flirting had left you exhausted but that wasn’t the reason you were hurt. You had gotten into the way of Tobias Budge. Your wounds weren’t anywhere near fatal but it still made them think. They both knew what Tobias was capable of and if they hadn’t gotten there in time you would be on a slab rather than a hospital bed. 

You had a few minor injuries that caused you to say in the hospital for a few days.

Hannibal walked into the hospital holding the flowers he had bought and a dish he had made that night. It was one of your favorites and he knew you would enjoy it. 

At the same time, completely unplanned, was Will walking in with flowers and chocolate. They saw each other and walked together because they had no other choice.

“This is it, isn't it?” Will asked.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“She almost died. She must have made her choice in that moment, whoever she thought about before as Tobias raised his hand to kill her,” Will pointed out. Hannibal shrugged.

“You’ll have to ask her that.”

They came upon your room and Alana was in there already. You looked up from her and she stood like she was getting ready to leave. 

Alana was actually the one who gave it away. The way her gaze shifted from Hannibal to Will and it softened when it hit Will like she knew something they didn’t.

“Boys,” she said, tipping her head at them. “I’ll see you soon Y/N.” You nodded a smile on your face and waved at her weakly as she left.

“Hey guys,” you said, your voice not as chipper as usual. They walked to the side of the bed and put down the gifts with the others. “I wanted to thank you both for being there when you were. If you weren’t you might be planning my funeral right now.” They both nodded.

“Of course,” Hannibal said, nodding.

“Anytime,” Will muttered. “How are you feeling?” he asked. You shrugged.

“As well as can be. Actually my body feels terrible but I feel at peace sorta. Near death can do that to a girl.” They laughed and you looked up at them.

“Hannibal is there a chance that I could speak to Will alone?” you asked. 

And that was it. That was the end of watch Hannibal may or may not have wanted with you. Honestly he was amazed. He thought that eventually you would come around but now, looking at it with a new gaze he saw that you and Will were a different kind of couple. Ones that were meant to last he hoped. 

“Yes of course. I hope you have a speedy recovery,” he said and his hand brushed your hand then he was out of sight. 

Will hadn’t noticed yet but he was about to. 

“What do you need?” he whispered, leaning down beside you. He got on his knees and you grabbed his hand which was completely unprompted and made his heart stop. 

“I was thinking. When I was almost dead, like right before he almost killed me that I had so many regrets and you were one of them. That I was never able to tell you,” you took a deep breath as though you didn’t know how Will felt about you, “how much I love you,” you whispered.

A smile formed over Will’s face and he couldn’t help but let out a joyous laugh which was a good sign for you. 

“Is that a good thing?” you asked him and he nodded quickly.

“That you love me? Yeah, I’d say it’s pretty good. Even after everything with jail and stuff?” You scoffed and shook your head.

“I pride myself in knowing that I always knew you were innocent.” You gave him a look. “Well how do you feel?” 

“Amazing.” You gave him a look. “Oh!” He took a deep breath and smiled subtly. “I love you too,” he admitted. You grabbed, squeezed his hand and let out a laugh.

“That’s great to hear you have no idea.”

“You mean you didn’t know?” he questioned. 

“No! I was so scared to tell you!”

Hannibal watched through the window as you laughed at each other and he knew that in some ways you had made the right decision for you in the moment. Even if he couldn’t help but think about what might have been if Tobias Budge had found a different woman and you wouldn’t have  made a split second decision. 

But he had to admit. 

He had never seen you or Will for that matter, any happier.

[mischiefandspirits]

Doppelgänger (11/?)

Previously on Doppelgänger ~ Masterlist ~ Next time on Doppelgänger

Danny, Sam, and Tucker were just 14 when they took a look inside the portal Danny’s parents had built. From there, everything changed. They woke up with white hair, green skin, and powers they could learn to control. They were hybrids, halfas.

They were the hero Doppelgänger.

{Life Lessons, Part 3}

The two ghosts led Valerie through the Ghost Zone in a weaving path. They were going at a pace slower than she was used to when dealing with them, but still fast enough that Danny had to hold on to keep from falling off.

“You okay?” she asked when his grip tightened during a turn.

“Yeah, just not used to it.”

“Maybe I should take you flying with me some time,” she said, glancing back at him and was pleased to see his smile.

“Sounds fun.”

The trip was thankfully short and soon enough Valerie was following the ghosts through a swirling vortex, coming out in the Fentons’ lab.

“Last stop, home,” Danny joked as he hopped down.

“What was that?”

All four teens froze at the voice before the ghosts darted through the walls and Valerie retracted her suit. A moment later, Danny’s parents came running down the stairs.

“Danny!” his mom shrieked when she saw them and the two adults swooped in to hug him. “We’ve been so worried! Are you okay? Did that awful ghost hurt you?”

“I’m-Mom, I’m-I’m okay! I-Dad, I can’t breath!”

The two pulled away and his mom held him at arm’s length to look him over. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, mom. Really.”

She didn’t look convinced, but turned to the other teen. “Valerie Gray, right? Are you okay?”

“Uh, yes ma’am,” she said, blinking. “Um, how did you know…”

“Your boss saw you and Danny get attacked and called it in,” Mrs. Fenton explained. “We tried to track it, but we found out this morning that it managed to get back to the zone somehow without using our portal. We were just preparing the speeder so we could come find you.”

“But you managed to escape on your own,” Mr. Fenton said, slapping Danny on the back hard enough that he stumbled forward. “That’s our boy!”

“The ghost didn’t hurt you?” Mrs. Fenton asked, looking Valerie over as she’d done Danny.

“No. He was some sort of collector or something. He just stuck us in a cage, like zoo animals,” Danny said.

“Well, I suppose that’s better than the alternative. I still want to be sure, though. Jack, why don’t you call Damon and the police and tell them the kids are back.”

“Yes, dear.” Mr. Fenton ruffled Danny’s hair then ran upstairs.

Mrs. Fenton checked them both thoroughly for injuries then grabbed what she referred to as a first aid kit, but turned out to be a large toolbox full of medical equipment. She used it to check their eyes, lungs, and heart before measuring any ectoplasmic radiation they were giving off.

“A 0.3er,” she read off after scanning Valerie. When she saw the girl’s curious expression, she explained, “Lower than I would have thought, which is good. It’s a completely healthy reading. It also means the atmospheric ecto-rad level of the Ghost Zone might be lower than we were expecting.” She then turned to Danny and scanned him. “A 1.18er.”

“Is that bad?” Valerie asked, worried.

Danny shook his head. “I run hotter than most. My whole family does, really, but I got into an accident a few months back so I run even hotter. That’s not much higher than my usual.”

“We don’t start worrying until a person’s ecto-rad level reaches 1.5er,” Mrs. Fenton added. “That’s when ectoplasm starts to negatively affect a human’s body.”

“Mom, Mr. Gray is here,” Danny’s sister said, poking her head in. Her eyes widened. “Danny!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny gave a pleased sigh as he cuddled up between his partners.

“Sorry it took us so long to find you,” Sam said, squeezing him.

He kissed her cheek. “It’s not your fault. Besides, it was kind of fun tormenting Skulker. I think he was actually tempted to send us back towards the end there.”

“Only you would think annoying the crud out of the homicidal ghost keeping you prisoner was a good idea,” Tucker chuckled, nuzzling into his neck.

“That’s why you love me!” Danny nuzzled him back. “How did you guys find us?”

“Someone found video footage of Skulker going through that random portal on their CCTV camera and turned it over to the police,” Sam explained. “Jazz told us when they were bringing in your parents to see the video so we were able to come along invisibly.”

“Weird as it is, Jazz is probably the hero this time,” Tucker said. “She also got you and Val an A on your baby assignment.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, she came by that night and told us you were missing, then took both sacks with her. Said something about giving us time to process.”

“Which was good because we were up all night trying to find you.”

“Then the next morning after she gave us ours back she went to Tetslaff and explained what had happened. We don’t know what she said, but she turned in the sack and when Tetslaff handed out grades, she said you’d get As for trusting someone so responsible and mature to babysit for you.”

“Wow, score one for teacher’s pet Jazz. Maybe we should bring her in on the secret.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Sam snorted.

“She’s even more overprotective of you than you are of anyone. She’d never leave us alone,” Tucker huffed.

Danny’s nose scrunched up as he remembered how Jazz had hovered over him for two months after his parents had accidentally left him at the Christmas tree lot when he was six. “Yeah, okay, that’s fair. I’ll have to do something nice for Jazz, though. So how’d you guys do on the baby thing anyways?”

Sam smirked. “Well, I got an A.”

Tucker grumbled something and pressed further into Danny’s neck.

{The Million Dollar Ghost}

“Thanks for covering for me, Sam,” Danny said as he scrubbed ectoplasm off the lab’s floor. “There’s no way I’d have been able to get my chores done with all the extra work Lancer assigned me.”

“It’s fine. As long as we cover the next poetry night.”

“I will.”

“Did we charge the bazooka already?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Did we change the ecto-filtrator?”

Danny paused then went to do just that.

“We’d be lost without us,” Sam chuckled. “Did we talk to our dad about showing up at school?”

“Jazz and Mom were taking care of it when -”

“GUYS!”

“Tuck?”

“Volume!”

“Did you hear?” Tucker said, thankfully quieter.

“Hear what?”

“Turn on the tv! Amity news!”

“We’re on patrol,” Sam said as Danny went to the lab’s tv.

“Switching to FaceTime.”

“-etent, non-Jack Fenton ghost hunters in Amity Park has never been more obvious,” the news anchor was saying while footage of his dad’s attack on Lancer played. It switched back to the anchor and she continued. “Luckily a mysterious benefactor has offered a million-dollar bounty on the head of Amity Park’s most famous ghost and invited the world’s best-known ghost hunters to track her down.”

Danny’s jaw dropped as a picture of Tucker in ghost form appeared onscreen. “What?”

“Who on earth would place a bounty on us?”

“Besides Valerie, but we know she doesn’t have that kind of money,” Tucker added.

“Valerie wants to hunt us down herself, same for my parents,” Danny said. Then laughed. “Oh man, my dad is going to go crazy when he hears about this.”

“Dude, this is serious.”

“Aren't we worried? These are the best-known ghost hunters in the world!”

“Sam, they’re the best-known, they’re not the best,” he scoffed. “Trust me, I grew up around these people so I have a pretty good idea who’s going to show up. It will be great.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We’ll admit, they don’t look threatening,” the trio said, watching the gathering of ghost hunters from atop a nearby building. “It’s actually kind of sad.”

“Tell me about it.” The trio flinched and turned to Valerie as she landed next to them.

“Hey. Hi. You here for the bounty?”

“Lucky for you, no.” She sat down on the edge next to them. “I don’t trust this bounty thing. I’m here for the same reason as you, the show. Danny said his dad would be here to show up the out-of-towners.”

The four watched as the Fenton parents ran over a pair of ATVs.

“And that’s only half the show.”

“What do you mean?”

“SAVE DOPPELGÄNGER!”

The four turned to see a horde of teenagers marching into the Nasty Burger parking lot, all waving signs saying things like, “Protect the ghost boy!”, “Freedom for the ghost girl!”, and even just their name or picture. Paulina and Dash were at the head of the charge with fierce looks on their faces.

“I found out the popular kids at my school were organizing a protest against the bounty.”

“Well, don’t we feel special.”

“Apparently Paulina and Dash, the most popular sophomores, both have crushes on you.”

“Yikes. Wow. We don’t know if we should be flattered or creeped out.”

“You’re dead. It’s creepy.”

“Rude. Do they think we’re a guy or a girl?”

“Dash is adamant you’re a girl. Probably to soothe his poor straight heart. Paulina thought you were a guy, but I think my friend Star said something to her after I let it slip you might be non-binary because she’s been using they pronouns lately.”

“That’s… more forward-thinking than I assumed she could be. Given she’s the popular type.”

“She’s bi. As long as you weren’t femme, she would have been game.”

“Oh.”

“She’s still in the closet, so don’t say anything to anyone.”

“We won’t.”

Screams sounded over the arguing and the four looked back to the crowd to see a trio of bird ghosts dive-bombing the hunters.

“Those are Plasmius’s vultures. Should have known he was behind this whole thing.”

“Plasmius,” Valerie asked.

“A fruit loop of a ghost.”

“Let me guess, he hates you too?”

“Worse, he wants us as his kid. Tried to kill our dad and kidnapped our mom once.”

“Seriously?”

“Unfortunately. Do you mind taking care of this? The out-of-towners are idiots, but we’d rather not test the Fentons.”

She shrugged and climbed to her feet. They watched her drop down and start firing on the birds until a voice sounded behind them.

“Not going to lend your father a hand, Daniel?”

The trio turned to see Vlad floating behind them.

“Wow, you look even stupider than we sai-remember. You do realize the modern interpretation of vampires is a hot person, right?”

“I see you’ve been working on your duplication then,” he said with a scowl. “You do realize you don’t have to talk together, don’t you ?”

“You do realize there are better uses for your time than bothering a teenager, don’t you? Shouldn't you be getting home to the love of your life? Oh, that’s right! Our dad married the love of your life. We’re trying to watch the show, do you mind?”

Vlad scowled and fired on them.

“Should we really be teasing the older, stronger half-ghost? Well, we do outnumber him.”

Vlad split in three.

“Now we don’t.”

Sam raised a shield around her and Tucker while he grabbed onto the GAV’s controls and used it to fire on Vlad. Meanwhile, Danny put his speed to use diving around the three Vlad’s.

“You’ve gotten better,” one Vlad said as Danny curled around his blast, a bit of frustration leaking into his voice.

“And you’ve gotten worse,” they said.

Was it just Danny or were the Vlad’s slower and weaker than usual? Did duplication cut their power?

Interesting, and good to know for Sam.

A green blast flew by and Danny looked down to see they’d gotten the hunters’ attention.

Danny turned back to the Vlads and fired at the one closest to him. A pink blast joined his and the Vlad disappeared.

“Your stalker?” Valerie asked.

“Yup.”

“I believe that’s my cue to leave,” a Vlad said and they teleported away.

“And ours,” the trio said as a few more of the hunters’ blasts flew past them.

Valerie turned her blaster towards Danny, who raised his hands. “Thought you weren’t going for the bounty.”

“I’m not. This is for me.”

Sam and Tucker shot away as Danny flew down towards the crowd, distracting all the hunters and waving at their fans before he dove straight into the ground. He came up in an alley where his partners were waiting and all three transformed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I knew there was something sketchy about this mess,” Valerie said as she looked over her pistol. “I didn’t think a ghost would be the one placing the bounty though.”

“Ghost?” Danny said, coming back over with a now-empty thermos.

“Yeah, some enemy of the ghost kid. They said he wants them as his kid, but I don’t even know how that works for ghosts.”

“No clue. Maybe he’s just insane.”

“Probably.”

Valerie’s phone went off and she pulled it out. “There’s an attack downtown.”

He leaned in as she brought up a live feed.

A large, t-rex-looking ghost was stomping through the street. Sam and Tucker were already there, firing on its head. The hunters, Danny’s parents included, could be seen chasing them in the background.

“You going to join them?” Danny asked, pulling back and grabbing Valerie’s grenade launcher. His partners looked like they had it and they’d give him a call if they didn’t.

“And risk getting into another ghost discussion with those pathetic excuses for hunters? Pass.”

“You should see them at one of the conventions.”

The two worked in silence until Danny’s ghost sense went off and a device on the counter next to them started beeping.

“Ghost?” Danny grabbed it and checked it. “It shouldn’t be picking up the fight from here.”

Valerie loaded the cartridge back into her pistol while Danny grabbed the only other operational weapons on the table, the thermos and Fenton Ghost Gloves.

The vultures flew through the ceiling, then froze. “You should not be here.”

Valerie blasted all three in the face.

Danny grabbed one in one hand and sucked the second into the thermos with the other before they could recover. The third dodged around another blast from Valerie, only for the Jack o' Nine Tails to come shooting out of the stairs and wrap around it.

Jazz slammed it into the floor as she came into the lab. “You guys okay?”

“We’re fine,” Danny said, sucking the last two into the thermos. “You?”

“Fine. I was just heading into the kitchen to grab a snack and saw them flying by.” She watched as Danny went to empty the thermos, then turned to Valerie. “What are you guys doing down here?”

“Well now, isn’t this a surprise?”

The teens looked up to see Vlad hovering over the lab.

“Great, another uninvited guest,” Danny groaned.

The ghost turned to him in shock. “Daniel?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do I know you?”

Valerie shot Vlad before he could do anything else.

Jazz tried to grab him with the nine tails, but he caught it out of the air and yanked it away from her. Danny used the distraction to punch him in the back. He smirked down at the gauntlets when the older halfa was sent into the wall.

Valerie slid up to his side as Jazz grabbed the Fenton Foamer off a table and blasted Vlad. “Trade you.”

Knowing from personal -- bruising -- experience that Valerie was better at hand-to-hand, Danny passed her the gauntlets and took the pistol.

The kids didn’t give Vlad a chance to breathe, switching quickly between Valerie beating him into the ground and the Fentons shooting him out of the air. Soon enough, Danny was opening the portal so Valerie could toss him through.

“And don’t come back!” he yelled before shutting it. He turned and smiled at Valerie before meeting Jazz’s eyes. “Mom and Dad never hear of this?”

“Agreed.”

[generallyunskilled]

Why I sympathize with or apologize for these Dream SMP characters

Since I’m very unwell and watch just about every perspective on the Dream SMP, I’m a sympathizer or apologist for just about every character. I figured I’d share my thoughts on that. This is probably gonna be long.

Before I get started, here’s who I’m not a sympathizer or apologist for

c!Dream: fuck this guy. You’re not supposed to sympathize with him. He’s just all around evil, man. He’s an abuser, manipulator and he preys on those weaker than him. I still enjoy his character however, he’s just so delightfully hateable and I love when villains are hateable.

c!Sam: I get Sam. I really do. I understand where he’s coming from. But good god, it’s just not working! His little system keeps fucking up and he doesn’t really seem to get that it’s the system itself and not the people fucking it up. He’s too damn lawful for his own good. The prison is eating at him and you can see how he’s becoming more and more a bastardized version of the man he used to be. I want to be able to sympathize with him, and I’m not going to excuse the shitty things he’s done, but I understand him. As he is right now he’s gone off the deep end and doesn’t even know it yet. However I do think he can change. There’s still a chance for it.

Any other character not listed I simply just do not have an opinion on them. Maybe I don’t watch them often, there’s just not much to their character, or they simply haven’t done much for them to need apologists or sympathizers.

Now onto the list

c!Tommy: this kid has been through so much and received so little support. Like yeah, he’s done some wrong things, but he’s been so disproportionately punished for them. Like almost everyone else does the things he does without any repercussions. He’s also stopped doing most of the things people had issues with, or is at least trying. I feel like people don’t realize half the reason Tommy did any of his ‘bad’ things is he’s simply never been taught better. Everyone wants him to learn his lesson but never actually teach him anything but violence and pain. Also, half the things the fandom calls him an asshole for are literally mental illness symptoms. Stop that. Kids got some things messed up in his head. I’m not one to diagnose but he gets pretty damn close to the criteria for C-PTSD. You know, from the near constant trauma in his life. Kid needs a break. And a doctor.

c!Techno: I’m really flip floppy with him. His motives are understandable but his morals are wack as hell. I get wanting something against people who’ve wronged you. I get disliking government. What I don’t get, is the absolute disproportionate retribution he delivers. I also don’t get his moral high ground. He has his reasons for distrusting government. He has his reasons for disliking L’Manburg (o7). And I think it’s perfectly valid to want to air his grievances. He’s got a very admirable combination of “do unto others” and “an eye for an eye”. Mans just bungles the execution of these ideas. He’s got a lot of problems, but however, I feel like he’s got something coming to him. cc!Techno’s a better writer than this. And now with it seeming like a lot of miscommunication is getting cleared up, some of Technos past transgressions might come back to him. I think he’s headed in an interesting direction.

c!Phil: a lot of what I said for Techno applies to him as well. In addition, we know he also blames the government for his son’s spiral and death. It makes sense based on what he knows. I had something completely different here in the drafts but now we know that Wilbur didn’t tell him the truth about what happened in Manburg-Pogtopia era of the SMP. He’s been completely misinformed and you can TELL this has shaken his world up. He’s gaining a lot of new knowledge really fast. It’s becoming clear that maybe he’s beginning to regret some of what he’s done. But beyond the misinformation, he also just never got much time to actually grieve for his son and heal before the plot moved on. I feel like Phil is one of those guys who sorta just stuffs all his emotions away, but now it’s getting to be too much. He has a lot of hidden depth and I think he’s definitely on the way to a different role than what he’s played.

c!Wilbur: before his death, Wilbur needed help. No one realized anything was wrong until it was too late to pull him out of his spiral. We now know he started falling after Eret’s betrayal. He was paranoid and growing to hate what he had created. It seems like Eret was the catalyst, but the election was the straw that broke the camels back. Everyone just kind of sat around and hoped he’d change his mind. The only one willing to try was Tommy, and Tommy was just a kid. Something could have been done for him. He wasn’t a villain. He was just someone who went down a dark path that could have been pulled away if someone who wasn’t a 16 year old boy tried to reach out to him. Post-resurrection, he seems to be happy to be alive again. I’m not saying he’s completely out of the spiral but clearly something changed in limbo. And yeah him saying Dream is his hero is hella sketch but I mean, he doesn’t have the full story yet. I need to see more of revivedbur to make an opinion on him entirely.

c!Tubbo: this kid has had so little agency for so much of the plot. Most of the bad things he’s done were under duress or because he was practically being used. He really was a pawn in other peoples games, unfortunately. Any action of his that wasn’t like this was something he did out of pure reaction. He’s a very reactionary guy. He doesn’t start shit but he’ll try to finish it if he can. Tubbo is mostly just trying to get by. He’s been a soldier, a spy, a president and whatever else he needed to be or what others needed him to be. His time as president had him being pushed around and put under pressure he should never been put under. He was backed into corner after corner and expected to make the right decision with different people telling him what that was. Now he’s just trying to have some peace for himself and his family. He made the nukes for defense and defense only. It’s extreme but he’s been taught that extremism is the only thing that works.

c!Ranboo: dude literally doesn’t know what, when, or how he did any of the bad things he did. He’s not himself for most of the wrongdoings he’s done. Hell, we don’t even know if he actually did do some of the things or if it’s Dream manipulating him. Dream is literally taking advantage of Ranboo having the Enderwalk state. This makes him one of the most dangerous people on the server as Dream puppet, but also one of the most victimized. Now this doesn’t absolve him completely because harm was still done but it’s a reasonable cause behind his actions. Like I mentioned he’s also a victim of Dream in this way. Even he’s scared of what could happen and the possibility that he could be a danger to the people he loves. Granted his moral code used to be pretty wack but he’s getting better at that. I really like his “choose people” stance bc at first it was just him making his own side but now he’s genuinely picking and choosing people and being with them because he likes them as people rather than their stance on things. He and Tubbo were already friends before they got married, he’s not an official part of Snowchester though, iirc, and the only reason he joined The Syndicate was to make sure they don’t go after Tubbo.

c!Fundy, c!Niki, and c!Jack all go in the “seek some healthy coping mechanisms for the love of god” pile. Niki has already started on this as she’s baking again. c!Fundy honestly hasn’t done much wrong afaik, but he still needs to go to therapy that poor fox boy has so much daddy issues and sadness. c!Jack literally just needs to work through his issues with Tommy bc dude only knows murder as an answer to his problems. There’s other ones and he should learn them. These three are just traumatized and don’t know what to do with themselves.

[degrassi-fanatic]

Good At The Job

For lawrancel and peter-ohara 

The moment Hotch hears the monitor flatline, the noise echoing through the silent room, he decides to make his way out of the hospital room. The two parents need some time to grieve privately and Hotch is not a monster, he won’t rip Jimmy away from his dead son, not until he has to. 

Pushing open the door as quietly as he possibly can, Hotch lets himself out of the room. He draws in a deep breath as he presses his body against the nearest empty space on the wall. His palms are flat against the cold wall, the sensation anchoring him to reality. He tilts his head up as he attempts to will away the tears. 

From the corner of his, he sees a familiar mop of brown hair come into view and soon he feels a hand rest on his upper arm, the warmth seeping through his dress shirt and spreading across his skin. 

“Hotch,” Reid says softly, “You okay?”

Using the arm free of Reid’s grasp, Hotch wipes away the remaining tears on his face using the end of his sleeve. 

“I’m fine.” Hotch answers back quickly, his voice coming out all watery, “Let’s just— let’s go back to the station.”

He is well aware that he’s not doing an excellent job of convincing Reid but he hopes that, for once in his life, Reid will simply drop the matter, that he won’t keep probing. 

It’s quite clear that today will not be the exception as Hotch’s hopes are crushed when he feels Reid’s digits curling into his bicep. As the younger man shuffles closer to lean into Hotch’s side, he uses his free hand to twine their fingers together. 

“The team can wrap up the case without us.” he murmurs as he tries to make fleeting eye contact with Hotch, “You want to talk about it?”

Without hesitation, Hotch shakes his head vehemently. 

No, he does not want to talk about it. He’d rather be back at the police station going through mind-numbing procedures that would help him forget the look of pure anguish on Ryan’s parents’ faces when he uttered his final goodbye. 

“Aaron…” Reid admonishes gently, “Please?”

For a minute, he stays silent and Reid resigns himself to having lost this battle with Hotch. He can feel him making microscopic movements to inch away and that makes a surge of panic rush through Hotch for an inexplicable reason. 

Moving his hand to grasp at Reid’s waist, Hotch leans his mouth down to his ear. He wants to be quiet because he knows that right beside them, inside the hospital room, is a pair of parents wondering how to keep going on after they’ve lost their son. 

“I saw a kid die,” he starts off, his breath most likely tickling the shell of Reid’s ear from the way the man was squirming in his hold, “And I don’t know, my mind must have gotten away from me, because I kept imagining if it was Jack. Then, I started imagining if Jack had gotten sick and I had to say goodbye, if he had gotten into an accident and I had to bury him, if he had been killed by Foyet—”

He cuts himself off as he heaves in a ragged breath. He knows that by now his fingers must be leaving bruises in Reid’s skin from the way he’s tightened his grip. 

“I felt bad for him.” Hotch admits quietly to Reid, “For the unsub, for Jimmy. I know he’s a killer but I understand him. If Jack got sick or if he died, I would snap too and that makes me afraid. That the person I identify with, is the bad guy.

“I mean, what does that make me?”

“Good at the job.” Reid whispers back.

It’s a callback to something he said years ago to him, back when Reid had been younger and Hotch had smiled more. It loosens up the knot in his chest, if only enough to let him take a free breath. 

“Thanks Reid.” he says, and he’s not sure what he’s thanking him for, but it feels right to say the words. 

A second or two passes when Hotch realizes they are still wrapped up around one another. Despondently, he thinks it’s time he pulls away from Reid’s body. They’ve been intertwined in a way that is inappropriate for boss and subordinate, for friends, even. 

As he goes to take a step back, Reid places a hand on top of Hotch’s own that was resting on his waist, effectively keeping him close. 

“By the way,” Reid says into his ear, “I don’t think you’ll ever turn into an unsub.”

“What do you mean?”

“A lot of our unsubs,” Reid begins as he moves to look Hotch in the eye, “Their triggers are when their loved ones die a traumatic death. But, Hotch, you? Your wife was murdered by a man that had made your life living hell, and instead of choosing violence, against yourself or others, you chose to go back to work and put people like Foyet away. You chose to be the good way when it could have been so easy to fall off the deep end, you chose to be good even though it wasn't easy.

"And you showed your son that you can move past tragedy without forgetting about it.”

All Hotch can do is stare at Reid and take in all of the awe and pride swirling around in his eyes. 

“I was rambling, wasn’t I?” he pipes up when Hotch cannot produce a response for him in time.

“I like it.” Hotch mumbles as he brings his thumb up to trace the corner of Reid’s mouth. 

“When it doesn’t interfere with the job?” he teases, even though a blush appears across his own face. 

“Yeah.” 

The next day, after the team has filed into the jet and they are well on their way back home to Quantico, Rossi decides to stride over to where Hotch was sitting, his paperwork scattered around him on the table in front of him. 

“So,” Rossi says, elongating the vowel as he leans his arm on the top of the empty seat in front of Hotch, “Is the doomsday bike ride happening?”

“Yes, it is. Tomorrow morning, 9:00.” he informs, “But, uh, I don't know.”

“I'm pretty sure Haley wouldn't want you to avoid moving on.”

Though it’s been two years, her name still cracks against his heart like a whip whenever he hears it. He wonders when the blow will lessen its impact. 

“I'm not avoiding moving on.” he murmurs as he scribbles something down, “I'm just not sure.”

It’s the truth. He just isn’t sure if it’s worth the hassle.

Beth is nice and sweet and she is someone Hotch could fall in love with.  But, she’s so innocent and Hotch doesn’t want to do to her what he did to Haley. He doesn’t want Beth to bear the burden of a job she did not sign up for. It’s not fair to her, just like it wasn’t fair to Haley. 

He sees no point in attempting a relationship that is doomed to end catastrophically. 

“Not sure about what? Going on a bike ride?” Rossi asks, slightly exasperated, “Aaron, I know you think it's too soon, but you're no good to anyone when you're miserable.”

“I'm not miserable.”

Hotch has a good life. He has a wonderful son and a kind sister. He has a team that has his back no matter what. What more could he ask for? What more could he ask for without feeling guilty? Without feeling selfish?

“Ehh…” Rossi says with a little hand gesture, “Maybe slightly uptight.”

A small chuckle escapes Hotch.

“All right,” he concedes as he sets his pen down, “I'll give you slightly uptight.”

After a moment, the grin on Rossi’s face dials down, replaced by the sight of a small, sad smile. 

“If there's one thing I learned from Carolyn's death, it's that life is short.” he says, “And you deserve to be happy.”

“I know.” Hotch murmurs, half lying and half telling the truth.

Leaning closer, Rossi gives him a pat on the shoulder before he straightens up and makes his way back to his own seat, where Prentiss and Morgan are waiting for him so they can begin their game of poker.

As he picks up his pen once more, Hotch is about to get back to his paperwork when the pen is snatched up from behind him. In its place is a warm mug of coffee, instead. Looking up, he finds Reid beaming down at him as he holds Hotch’s favourite pen hostage in one hand, and his own mug of coffee in the other. 

“Did you poison it with your sugar?” Hotch jokes as he brings his nose down to the rim of the mug. 

“Haha,” Reid says sarcastically as he takes his seat in front of Hotch, “That’s coming from Mr. I-take-my-coffee-as-dark-as-my-soul.”

“Well, if coffee is supposed to represent its drinker, I think yours is fitting as well.” Hotch says, surprising himself with his words. 

“Because I’m so pale?”

“Because you’re sweet.” Hotch corrects. 

He isn’t quite sure why he said the words but whatever the reason is good enough for him as he watches the flush spread across Reid’s face like it did last night. Soon after, Reid ducks his head down as he distracts himself by taking a sip of his overly sugary coffee. 

Maybe, Hotch had gotten it all wrong. Maybe, he should’ve been searching for a partner in his own circles. Someone who understood him and understood everything he had been through. Someone who he didn’t have to go through the painful pleasantries of first dates with because they already knew him. Someone who would not be scared away by the job because they worked the job too. 

Someone like Reid, he thinks to himself. 

Sighing, Hotch pushes aside the thought. Reid would never want to be with a man like him. Not when he had so many other options available to him. Sure, he’s a little late on social cues but he makes up for it with kindness, passion, intellect, with his whole personality. Anyone would be lucky to have him.

In the pocket of his trousers, he feels his cell phone vibrate with a new text message notification. Whipping it out, he spots Beth’s contact name on the screen. 

“Jess?” Reid asks.

“No, it’s, uh, it’s Beth.” at Reid’s questioning look, Hotch explains, “She’s the woman I met in the park while I was training. She’s asking if I would like to join her for some dinner later in the day after we finish our bike ride tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Reid says deflated, “That’s nice.”

As he grows dismayed, a seed of hope sprouts up inside of Hotch. He wonders if… 

“Unfortunately for her, I am busy.” he announces as he sets his cell phone face down on the table.

“With what?” Reid asks, curiously.

“Taking you out to dinner.” and Hotch isn’t sure where this streak of bravery came from but he is grateful for it, “That is if you’ll say yes.”

The grin that Reid greets him with reaches the corners of his eyes and leaves Hotch feeling breathless.

“That depends.” he says as he raises his mug up to his mouth before lightly blowing over the top.

“On?”

“If you mean it in the way I think you do.” he explains. 

“Spencer,” Hotch murmurs lowly to make sure the rest of the team cannot eavesdrop, “I would like to take you out on a date.”

“Okay.” he mumbles into the rim of his mug.

“Okay?” Hotch asks, wanting to double check, a smile already stretching across his face.

“Yep.” Reid nods shyly. 

Without another word, Hotch settles back into his chair to get some work done. He’d rather not have to do it tomorrow, seeing as he’s going to be very busy. 

As he slides sheets of papers around, he spots Reid getting up from his seat, only to slot up beside him on the empty chair next to him. Reid brings his hand down to Hotch’s, and he can feel a pen nudging his palm. After taking hold of it, Hotch tries to get back to work only to find his right hand clasped together with Reid’s left, settling on top of his thigh. 

It’s a good thing Hotch is left handed. 

[castiel-kline]

can we talk about the scene where jack meets his grandparents??? please?? it breaks my heart everytime and your kline family gifset didn't help. please ramble, kitkat!!

First of all anon I think you must be psychic because watching that scene is what gave me the idea to make that post and I saved the gifs under “kline family gifset” while I was editing them. Just wild to me that you phrased it exactly the same 😂

But I would absolutely LOVE to talk about this, yes. 

Under a cut because if you specifically ask for rambles, you’re gonna get some rambling 💕

Let’s start by talking about why he went in the first place. He had to sneak out of the Bunker to do so, which he knew full well was dangerous and going to get him in trouble. When he comes back (and gets in trouble) he tells Cas that “it wasn’t a risk” which, hmm. But then he goes on to say, “I heard what you were saying, Cas, about finding out where I came from. I never knew my mother. I thought the next best thing might be for me to meet the only real family that I have left.” Presumably he’s referring to earlier in the episode when Cas told him that “the past, where you came from, that’s important. But it’s not as important as the future and where you’re going.” 

And to be honest I feel like Jack did take a pretty good message out of that. It’s just so sad to me that at this point he still thinks family is defined by blood (big ouch for Cas there too), and I think maybe that’s because even though he was born thinking Cas was his father, everybody (the boys, angels, demons, etc) told him no. Everyone was telling him that Lucifer is his father, Lucifer is his dad because Lucifer is in his DNA, and that’s just how it is. So despite his connection with Cas being stronger than Lucifer’s influence even before Jack was born, he was forcibly taught that none of that mattered by everyone’s constant worrying that he’d turn out to be evil (which… I’m no expert but I’m pretty sure evil isn’t genetic. So the whole thing is a little wild anyway). 

Now, I’m convinced that Jack has always fully loved and trusted Cas, but I think the nature v. nurture mindset -of, you know, everyone- complicated things a bit at the start. Fortunately, though, nobody could take away or undermine his connection with Kelly in a similar way because they ARE biologically related, so a lot of the time in season 13 I feel like Jack was basing his actions on whether or not Kelly would approve. If I’m remembering correctly, the whole reason he gave Lucifer a chance in the first place (besides his natural curiosity) was because Kelly told him in the video she left for him that no one would blame him if he went looking for Lucifer one day. He’s CONSTANTLY thinking about Kelly. He loves her so much.

So here we are in the beginning of season 14, and Jack has no idea what he’s supposed to be doing. He feels useless, and because of that he’s doubting what his place is (unfortunately this is a very Castiel thing to do). So, as usual, he looks to his mother for guidance. But since he can’t ask her directly, and Cas was the only other person who actually knew Kelly (I feel like Jack’s the type of kid to avoid “bothering” dad when he’s busy), Jack somehow found his grandparents. Logical conclusion, not even gonna lie.

I really wonder how he even did that. How did he find out about them? Did Cas know they were still around? Where do they live? How did Jack get there, since he couldn’t drive yet and he couldn’t fly at the time? I guess those things aren’t that important in the long run. But he gets there, and UGH does this scene break me inside.

The simple fact that he sought them out hurts me and melts my heart simultaneously, but just… 

The look on his face when he opens the door is too much for me. It’s like this mix of refined fear (probably of rejection) and this open wonder because this woman is his grandmother. And he knows he can’t tell her that. And then when he introduces himself and Jack Sr. comes over like “My name is Jack too!” all excited, and Jack’s expression switches from something sad to more of that wonder and he just goes “I know.” AHHHH. I think he’s probably very proud to have something that connects him to Kelly and Kelly’s direct family even further.

The entire scene definitely gave off visiting the grandparents vibes, though. Jack Sr. is just a kindly old man, and I’m pretty sure Grandma Kline (wiki says her name is Helen?) actually handed him a glass of lemonade. And this lil exchange KILLS me:

“How did you know our Kelly? Through work?”

“She… basically gave me my start.” BABY. I’M EMOTIONAL.

And then he goes for the photo album and he’s so damn happy to see pictures of Kelly. The only ones he has is the video and the picture on his nightstand, right? Whatever Cas can tell him about her (admittedly not much, because they were the sweetest of friends but they didn’t know each other that long) really isn’t going to compare to actually seeing the things that make her real.

AND THEN the real punch of the scene comes when Mrs. Kline asks him about Kelly’s pregnancy. You can tell he wants to tell them SO BAD, but he doesn’t. He just says “she had the baby,” with the purest smile on his face. And he tells them it’s a boy, and they get so excited about having a grandson and Jack’s just sitting there, unable to tell them that HE is their grandson. And it breaks my heart.

“In the time I spent with her, she was an amazing mother. Her son loves her very much.” 

Cue ugly sobbing, yeah? And he just… keeps going. He talks about what he remembers about her before he was born, and he’s smiling but his expression changes to looking like he’s about to cry when he says “she made him feel safe and wanted.” And that is just too much for me because I’m sure he feels safe with Cas, and obviously he’s wanted and loved there. But Cas isn’t Kelly and can never fill that space. And Jack has spent so much of his life feeling like he’s an unwanted burden, and he hasn't had a lot of real bonding time with Cas yet. And sure, his relationship with Sam was good at this point, but sadly I think Jack never really feels like he’s fully accepted there because he doubts his place. He doesn’t with Cas, and he’s going to get opportunities to build on that. He doesn’t have to doubt it with Kelly either, but the memory of that feeling is literally all he has. And all the times he worried he wasn’t enough before this point, I’m sure he was holding on to that memory with everything that he had.

AND THEN Mrs. Kline says that Jack looks like Kelly… and this child gets so emotional. I feel like he’s honored. But he pulls himself together and says “I don’t know, but I hope someday to have a little of her courage and purpose.” And that hits HARD for many reasons, but knowing that Jack is constantly struggling to feel useful? I’m sobbing and screaming now.

He gets up to leave looking like he’s about to break down crying, and he’s just going “I didn’t mean to intrude” (because this is a boy with manners!!!) but it’s his little “I just had to meet you” that gets me. And then he gets to shake his grandpa’s hand and hug his grandma and say he misses Kelly too. It’s SUCH a fantastic scene.

And I think it really did help him a lot, too. He confirms that it did when Cas directly asks him about in the midst of his scolding about sneaking out. And then Cas confirms that Jack looks like Kelly, which melts my poor heart even further. What Jack says to Cas there, about how he wanted to tell them that he was their grandson… it hurts. It all hurts, actually, but it’s kind of a good hurt because spn actually managed to treat Kelly and Jack’s relationship with the respect and gravitas that it deserves. And the scene with his grandparents and his scenes with Cas, both the one building up to it and the one after, are the highlights of this episode in my opinion. 

I was not expecting this to become a scene breakdown, but I hope you enjoyed my ramblings! I am always happy to cry over Jack and Kelly in an overly verbose way.

[dajaregambler]

HeliosR - Victor Valentine Card story “Trauma from that day”

Translation of Victor Valentine’s 3* ‘’Escape The Prison’’ card story from ‘Helios Rising Heroes’.

Gast: Woah, door’s open

Gast: Doctor. Got some time to spare?

Victor: Gast….? What is it?

Gast: My bad for suddenly droppin’ by. Marion had told me to go get your signature for this document and…

Gast: !!

Victor: Sign the document? I see… Marion is busy himself, and since he couldn’t do it he left up to you?

Victor: Perhaps it’s a more personal reason…. he simply finds it repulsive to see my face and made you do it, I wonder which one is correct?

Gast: ………..

Victor: ? What's the matter, you’re slowly backing away….

Victor: I can see that the muscles on your face are stiffening too, are you nervous? Is there some reason for being frightened?

Gast: Th-that… th-tha-that…..

Victor: Th-tha-that?

Gast: That chair, I kinda recognize it but…. C-c-could that be a….

Victor: Chair….?

Victor: Ah. That, it’s a device to enter the inner mental state of another person.

Gast: I-inner mental state? What the hell, ain’t an electric chair then. That’s a relief.....

Victor: I see. Come to think of it, you did cooperate with me for an experiment involving the electric chair before. 

Victor: Signs of being frightened started to show because you recalled that time. Fufu...

Gast: Gh, naturally I’m scared. That experience is without a doubt traumatizin’ for anyone

Victor: Oh my, my apologies for that.

Victor: To keep it short, this trauma is a psychological trauma….. If using that device, it might be able to remove the scars that incurred your mind. Would you like to try it out?

Gast: N-no! ‘m good, no need to!

Gast: This trauma ain’t somethin’ that severe…. Even if I’m thinking to get rid of it, I don’t wanna dare to sit down in a chair here

Victor: Is that so, that’s unfortunate.

Victor: A sign, was it. I’ll write it now, could you please wait for a moment?

Gast: Yeah, I’ll wait ‘ere

Gast: …… Y’know, what’s it like to enter someone else’s mental state?

Victor: You do want to give it an attempt?

Gast: No….. Just wonderin’ what it’d be like 

Gast: Thinking ‘bout it made me realize that you made somethin’ amazing for real… Thought that peeking into someone’s mind was somethin’ impossible

Victor: Fufu. In a place as New Million where substance is cultivating, “Absolutely impossible” is out of the question.

Victor: I haven’t attempted it myself yet however, everyone has their own world inside themselves… to have a look into someone’s mind, it would be a completely different world in there, wouldn’t it. 

Victor: There ought to be a new discovery each time too. What you didn’t want to know, and what you wanted to know, each one would truly be a world of its own.

Gast: Guess so, huh…. Kinda have the feeling that I’d wanna peek but, doin’ it out of curiosity could end up gettin’ yourself hurt. 

Victor: Whose mental state would you like to have a look of, for example?

Gast: Eeh, who…? Hmm….

Gast: If it’s wanting to know what’s goin’ on in someone’s mind, it’s gotta be my team members then. Especially Ren since he ain’t the type to talk much, peekin’ in would have its benefits

Gast: Marion’s mood sours quickly, so knowin’ what landmines there are beforehand would be easy. …..Maybe it’d be pretty handy?

Victor: Indeed. The way of conduct of these two often differ with their true feeling, this device would be plenty of use for that.

Gast: And of course Doc’s also included within the team

Victor: Me too?

Gast: Like, think I’m most interested into seein’ yours? 

Gast: It’s obvious that the brains of researchers are different but...  I’d like to try to see what kind of world you’d be livin’ in

Victor: Hmm….. Comparing myself to Marion, I believe I do say what’s on my mind.

Victor: I suppose that the world of one’s mental state would be a fictional landscape, so to say. If anything abstract requires an interpretation, it perhaps could be unintelligible for a researcher.

Gast: I don’ really get Marion yet but, wonder if Ren’s might be smeared with cats everywhere? 

Gast: Ah, I was only wonderin’ about it but…. what the hell would happen if Jack and Jacqueline were to use this device?

Victor: The AI robots, hm…. I hadn’t considered it yet but, that’s very interesting. 

Victor: Common sense tells us that robots “don’t have” their own mind, however in the case of these robots what would it be…?

Victor: Suppose I’ll tell Nova about it and give it an attempt once the device has been completed… Hmm, if there’s a mental state present, just what kind of world would it be? 

Gast: Ahahah, it was really just somethin’ randomly on my mind though… 

Gast: Anyway, why you’re makin’ this device in the first place? Is it also just outta curiosity? 

Victor: No, I don’t have the time to go this far for just that. It’s one of the jobs the research division has undertaken. 

Victor: It’s being made to be used in criminal investigations, as commissioned by those concerned with the police.

Gast: P-police….?

Victor: Oh my, your face turned pale again?

Gast: Ah, it’s ‘cuz… It’s embarrasin’ but, in the past I’d be dealin’ with ‘em... I mean, it’s kinda, there’s a time where I became sensitive to that word?

Victor: Ah, could that time be during your famed days of delinquency? 

Victor: Being recognized to that extent, I’m sure your experiences of being taken care of by the police must’ve been reasonable.

Gast: U-um, reasonable….?

Victor: Oh?

Gast: What, Doctor?

Victor: I’d like to have a look into your mental state too.

Gast: Eh, me? I don’ think I got anything interesting in particular to show though...

Gast: If you’re saying that you talk more than Marion and Ren, then I’m confident that I’m more of an open book than Doc

Gast: I mean, I’m always runnin’ my mouth when it ain’t needed…. I’m sure whatever’s in my mind has to be predictably boring 

Victor: Is that so?

Gast: Yup. I’m just as plain as one can get…. wait, sayin’ that myself is makin’ me sad….

Victor: It is said that living ordinarily is rather extremely difficult. 

Gast: ?

Victor: Well, I am doubtful of “plain humans” truly existing. 

Victor: If they were to exist, for example, and I were to see their mind, I’m certain there would be a world beyond my own imagination. 

Victor: As you have mentioned, without such a device you wouldn’t be able to even think to look into someone’s mind.

Gast: Oooh….?

Gast: Doc, whenever you talk it’s difficult and long winded, it jumbles up my brain

Victor: Is that so. Then, to quickly find out if you are an ordinary person… 

Victor: How about trying out the device after all?

Gast: !! That’s why I’m sayin’ to spare me…!

[everwitch-magiks]

dance with somebody (ch. 19)

start from ch. 1 | back to ch. 18

Dex drives him to the airport.

Even though it's still too fucking early o'clock, Whiskey feels wide awake. He didn’t think he would – it’s not exactly like he got an abundance of sleep, last night. He’s supposed to be joining the Aeros for their practice, right after lunch, and unfortunately, he highly doubts this nervous energy is going to last him until then.

Whiskey closes his eyes, breathes in and out. It’s fine. It will be fine. Somehow.

"Hey," Dex says carefully.

"I'm okay." Whiskey forces his eyes back open. "Thank you for doing this. I’m so sorry it had to be this fucking early."

"No problem," Dex tells him firmly. "Just remember – if you need to get out of there, for any reason, don’t hesitate to call. Alright? I promise I’ll drive right down and rescue you.”

Somehow, that actually makes Whiskey smile.

"Sure. It's literally on the other side of the country, but sure."

"Just a few hours behind the wheel," Dex replies decisively, almost like it could truly be that simple. Like he actually means it. "Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask. Have you talked to Jack, yet?"

Wait. What?

"Zimmermann?" Whiskey asks doubtfully, and watches in disbelief as Dex nods. "Why would I… Dex, I don't actually know Jack Zimmermann. I've spoken to him once, maybe twice in my life."

“He’s Samwell Men’s Hockey alumni, isn’t he?” Dex points out. “And obviously, he knows more about these things than any of us. He could definitely help you get some perspective.”

“Maybe, but I can’t just… It’s not like I’ve even got his number.”

“Do you mind if I talk to him, then?” Dex suggests. “I’m sure he’d have your back, Whiskey. And if there’s ever a time when you should rely on all of your support systems, I think it’s probably now.”

“I suppose it can’t hurt,” Whiskey agrees, somewhat tersely. It goes without saying that talking to Jack equals getting Bitty in the loop, and Whiskey’s not sure if he’s completely ready for that, just yet. “You know, it’s really okay if… I mean, Jack Zimmermann is probably very busy.”

“Just leave it to me.” If Dex picks up on Whiskey’s discomfort on the subject, he doesn’t show it. “We should probably also consider how much I should tell the team, while you’re away? They’re bound to have some questions.”

Whiskey closes his eyes again, just briefly. Fuck. The team. Tango and Ford. Louis, Hops and Bully. Chowder and Nursey. Joyo and Jader. Pips. God fucking damnit.

“Tango and Ford already know,” Whiskey says, as evenly as he can manage. “As for the rest, could you just… Try to say as little as possible? At least for now.”

Dex takes a moment before he replies.

“They’re all going to be happy for you,” he says carefully. “You know that, right? Sad, too, and in some cases pretty fucking devastated. But happy, ultimately.”

“Maybe, yeah.” Whiskey attempts a casual shrug that he knows Dex will see right through. “I just think, if I’m really doing this, then I’m going to need to tell them all myself. So for now, just say that something came up and that I will be back on Saturday.”

“Alright,” Dex agrees. His tone is a lot gentler than before. “Sounds good.”

Whiskey nods, once.

They don’t talk much more for the rest of the drive.

Emily has booked Whiskey a first-class ticket, and that should be exciting or at least somewhat distracting, but it’s not. Whiskey barely takes in his surroundings as he moves through priority boarding and fully reclines in his very spacious seat. He manages to sleep a little on the plane, so at least that’s something.

A bored-looking driver collects Whiskey from the airport, and then they’re off straight towards the rink. Whiskey grits his teeth as he steps out of the car. This is it. This is actually fucking it.

Someone is waiting for him by the entrance. It’s one of the players Whiskey certainly knew by name even before he obsessively googled the Aeros’s current roster, the night before. Walt ‘Mickey’ Davis, team captain of the Aeros and one of the highest ranked defensemen in professional hockey.

Whiskey takes a breath. No big deal. Absolutely no big deal at all.

“I hear you’ve had a bit of a whirlwind, these past twelve hours,” Walt greets him. His handshake is firm, and Whiskey immediately likes the steady way he meets Whiskey’s eyes. If Walt Davis is at all concerned with the fact that two of his best forwards are out due to a broken collarbone and a torn meniscus, respectively, he certainly doesn’t show it. “It’s Connor Whisk, right? Let’s see what we can do with that. I go by Mickey.”

“I know,” Whiskey says, only to immediately feel stupid. Which, in itself, is stupid – the only reason he’s here is because he’s been explicitly asked to come, so if he somehow makes an utter fool of himself it’s actually kind of on them. Besides, all of this is just more hockey, isn’t it? Whiskey knows hockey. How fucking hard can it be? “It’s very nice to meet you. I’m really looking forward to getting on the ice with you guys.”

“Polite, eh?” Mickey smiles. “Come on. Let’s get you settled in as best as we can, before practice. I have to warn you, though – Ducky has this slight obsession with the Samwell NCAA team. He might have one or two questions. Just let me know if you ever need him to back off.”

Whiskey blinks. Right. What’s one more utterly baffling thing to navigate.

Ducky, it turns out, has a lot more than two questions. He instantly reminds Whiskey of Tango in the best way possible, which unfortunately makes Whiskey feel nauseous all over again – what the fuck is he even doing here – but he kind of also reminds Whiskey of Bitty in a way that calms him slightly, and of Chowder in a way that almost makes him smile.

“So obviously, there’s been a lot of talk,” Ducky says, after Whiskey has apparently satisfied his curiosity on Samwell’s defensive strategy during last season’s playoffs, “About Eric Bittle. You played with him, right?”

Whiskey stills.

“Uh, yeah. For two years.”

“That long, huh.” Ducky grins. “So, like, is there any chance you’ve got some intel on the whole jam situation?”

“Ducky,” Mickey says, somewhat warningly.

“No, I swear, it’s a whole thing!” Ducky insists. “I used to play with Poots on the Falconers, okay, and I’m telling you, Poots won’t fucking shut up about it!”

Slowly, Whiskey exhales.

“The jam is a whole thing,” he offers tentatively. “But, it’s not... I mean, Bitty’s jam is the greatest, yes, Poots is absolutely onto something there. It’s just, did he really not mention the pies?”

Ducky’s eyes widen.

“Oh my God. There’s pies, too?”

“Dude,” Whiskey says. He actually smiles. “The pies are where it’s really at.”

“Our nutritionist is gonna be all over this,” someone chirps – Lacer, if Whiskey’s not entirely mistaken. God, he’s gonna need fucking flashcards. "Are we talking, like, blueberry or apple, here? Or is there any chance for apricots?"

Somehow, inexplicably, the conversation about pie lasts all the way until they're lacing up their skates. It's only then that Whiskey realises they've talked a lot about Bitty, and at one point little about Jack, but not for one single second about Bitty and Jack. It just hasn't come up, even once. Whiskey's not entirely sure if that should make him feel relieved, or concerned.

Stepping onto the ice is like a breath of fresh air. Whiskey skates a lap, and then another, and it’s like he finally relaxes for the first time since last night. Pretty soon, Mickey calls them to order, and suddenly it’s all starting, but Whiskey still feels like he’s got a decent grip on himself. He’s got this. He can do this.

They run a bunch of drills focused on puck control, at first, and then split up into pairs to work on passing and receiving. And somehow, it all feels achingly familiar. It’s almost like Tango is right there next to Whiskey as he shoots the puck to Ducky over and over again – Whiskey gets the timing exactly right every time, but that's only because he and Tango spent all those hours fucking nailing their passes, last season. And later, when Whiskey races Mickey up the ice in a speed exercise that has him high on adrenaline, it’s almost like Pips skates furiously beside him, like always, pushing and pushing and pushing until Whiskey is giving it everything he’s got and then just a little bit more. It’s weirdly grounding, how every member of the Samwell team seems to manifest themselves through his playing, a constant reminder of how far they’ve all helped him come.

They play something of a mock-game towards the end of it, and Mickey has them changing up the lines again and again. By the time they’re wrapping things up, Whiskey thinks he’s played alongside each of the other forwards at least once.

They’re all good. They’re all really fucking good.

Mickey claps a hand on his back as they’re stepping back into the locker room.

“Not bad,” he says. “You’re fast.”

Not as fast as Pips, Whiskey doesn’t tell him. And neither are you.

“I try to be,” he says instead, and Mickey grins.

“You’ll catch up to an old man like me in no time,” he chirps kindly. “Now, I think Larsen wants to get hold of you sooner rather than later. Let’s try not keep her any longer, eh?”

Unsurprisingly, Emily Larsen is waiting for him when he steps out of the locker room.

“There you are,” she says brightly. “Welcome to Houston, Connor. We’re so happy to have you here at such short notice.”

He’s ushered off to something that turns out to be a meeting. There’s at least three different people who shake his hand on the way there – one of them is the nutritionist, who has somehow already heard rumours about baked goods. 

Emily promises not to keep him for too long, but she does have a few things that apparently can’t wait. She goes over the draft of his contract, aided by someone from the legal department who is able to answer some of Whiskey’s questions, which is good. Or well, it’s at least informative. Then there’s the question of housing options, which Whiskey decides to postpone until all of this is actually completely settled. He’s in a hotel, for now, which is perfectly fine. Finally, Emily runs through a brief power-point presentation on the Aeros, their history, and some aspects of life in Houston. Which isn’t uninteresting, exactly, but Whiskey is sort of more fucking exhausted than he remembers being in last year’s playoffs.

“Almost done,” Emily reassures him as she changes yet another slide.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, the next headline captures Whiskey’s full attention. Outreach Activities – You Can Play & The Rainbow Puck Foundation. Our values and vision.

“Well,” Emily says. She looks at the screen, her expression almost a little confused. “This is, you know. What we stand for, and all of that.”

And just like that, she’s moved on to the next slide.

Right.

Whiskey checks into his hotel room, puts his suitcase down, makes it to the bed and sleeps for three hours.

When he wakes up, he’s got seven missed calls and more than twenty texts.

Most of the texts are from Miguel. Whiskey smiles softly while he scrolls through Miguel's more than familiar stream-of-consciousness. It's perhaps a little more chipper than usually, almost as if Miguel is making an effort to sound nothing but cheerful. Whiskey's heart aches desperately as he types up a few lines in response. got here okay. practice was fine. will call you tonight. I miss you so fucking much.

The calls are from Dex, Chowder, Louis and Pips. Pips has called twice, Dex thrice. Dex has also sent him five texts.

The last one contains Jack Zimmermann’s phone number.

call Jack, okay? he’d really like to hear from you. Bitty says hi, by the way.

Whiskey plugs in his phone, and gets up. If he’s going to have a heart to heart with one of the most high-profile players in the league, he’s going to take another shower, first, and his phone is going to have more than six percent battery.

About half an hour later, he’s put on pajamas, because fuck it, and settled into an armchair by the window with his hair still damp. His hands barely shake as he carefully types in the number.

Jack Zimmermann doesn’t pick up until the seventh ring.

“Connor?” he asks by way of greeting.

“Yeah.” Whiskey pulls his knees up to his chest and fiddles with the hem of his pajama pants. “Hi.”

“Give me just one second.” There’s a bustling noise, the sound of a door closing and then quiet. “There. It’s nice to talk to you again.”

“You, too.” God, Whiskey has no idea how the fuck he’s supposed to navigate this. “I hope this isn’t a bad time?”

“Not at all,” Jack reassures him. “How are you?”

“Um.” Whiskey grimaces. “Tired?”

“I can imagine,” Jack says, his voice surprisingly warm. “Dex filled me in a little bit, this morning. You’re already in Houston, right?”

“That’s right, yeah.”

“How are things, so far?”

“Not bad,” Whiskey decides, after a moment’s consideration. “I don’t really… I mean, I’ve actually barely had time to think about it.”

Jack hums.

“How long do you have, before you need to give them a definite answer?”

“Until Sunday.”

“Sunday. Okay.” Jack pauses momentarily. “That’s not unreasonable, on their part. Sometimes these things happen really fast.”

“Right. Okay.”

“Can I ask… Do you have an agent?”

“No, actually.” Whiskey runs a hand through his hair. “I haven’t really... I mean, I’ve basically been thinking that there would still be time before I’d need to consider these things more seriously. This opportunity was very unexpected.”

“Okay.” There’s another moment of silence before Jack speaks again. “Look, I’m just going to be very blunt about this. How much are these guys offering you?”

“Ah,” Whiskey says. He tries to remember – there’s been numbers mentioned, several of them, something about a signing bonus and a monthly salary and Whiskey’s barely registered anything beyond how that’s a lot of digits, holy cow. “I haven’t… Honestly, the financial aspect has sort of been the last thing on my mind.”

“Okay,” Jack says again, and there’s something of a smile in his voice. “I understand that, I really do. There are a lot of other important factors. It’s just, you should definitely think about getting an agent.”

“No, I know,” Whiskey agrees readily. “I, uh. This has all just happened really fast.”

“I’m getting that.” There’s no judgement in Jack’s tone. “But you haven’t actually signed anything yet, right? Not even some non-disclosure formality?"

“No, nothing. Nothing at all.”

“Then you’ve got the ball in your corner, still,” Jack says encouragingly. “Or, you know. The puck. This is all going to play out the way you decide is best, in the end.”

“... Right.” Suddenly, Whiskey wants to laugh. Fuck, he’s so tired. “The thing is, I’ve honestly got no clue how I’m supposed to figure that out. There’s no telling if I’ll ever get a better offer than this, and that’s...  A major concern for me. This is what I want to do, and I don’t know if I can afford to pass up on this chance. But I never imagined that I would need to be ready to take this step so soon, and I… I just don’t know if I’m going to be.” 

“Okay,” Jack says. And this time, he doesn’t need to pause and consider before he responds. “Look. The only thing you need to do, here, is make sure that you do right by yourself and what it is that you need. Okay? I know the Aeros are in a bit of a hurry, at the moment – I’ve heard all about those injuries and the estimated recovery times. They’re going to have several key players out for the rest of the season, and that’s certainly an urgent situation for them. Now, I’ve seen the way you play, Connor, and I’m more than familiar with your statistics. You’re good. Clearly, this is a move that makes complete sense for the Houston Aeros. The real question is, is it something that’s going to make complete sense for you?”

Whiskey closes his eyes for a moment. He exhales, and feels his shoulders relax a bit. Huh. When he opens his eyes again, looking out over the unfamiliar city outside his window, it’s like he finally has a moment of clarity.

“I don’t know,” he says, almost steadily. “I thought it might.”

“Well,” says Jack Zimmermann. He sounds almost fond, which is of course completely ridiculous. Clearly, Whiskey is having some sort of sleep-deprived hallucination. “Maybe don't rule it out after your very first day. But you might want to give that some serious thought, during the rest of this week.”

“Yeah.” Whiskey inhales, then exhales. “I guess that’s what I’ll have to do.”

Their conversation continues for a little while longer. Jack inquires about some of the Samwell team members, and coach Hall and Murray, and Whiskey finds himself surprisingly at ease as they take turns sharing a few personal anecdotes about Faber, and the Haus. It's never quite struck him, before, how much of a shared history he has with the generations of Samwell team members that came before him.

"I'd really like to stay in touch," Jack says before they hang up. Surprisingly, he tacks on something of a chirp. "If you're going to be my new competition, I'd like to know what I'm up against."

"I don't think I could give you competition," Whiskey tells him honestly, and if that reveals just a little more of Whiskey's deep and genuine admiration for Jack than he had maybe intended to show, well, so be it.

"Don't be so sure," Jack says plainly. "Take care out there, Connor. I'll talk to you soon."

ch. 20

[nileqt87]

Despair For Castiel: A Review

From a series of posts before and after watching:

Before:

As far as I'm concerned, I'm now imagining the Empty having to deal with Gabriel and Balthazar redecorating the Empty into the angel/demon afterlife (probably with a lot of wacky alternate realities and bad porno) with all the free will angels and redemptive demons invited, Cas finding Meg and eventually Jack again for his true happy ending that he can have and Crowley probably trying to install himself as king again. Then when Rowena finally exits as Queen of Hell, she'll join and Crowley will annoyed, but Gabriel will be happy to see her again. LOL.

Megstielers also got robbed hard with all that setup of Cas still pining for Meg for YEARS, the Empty using her image (not Dean!) to taunt him (the Empty clearly saw Meg in Cas' head when it could have taken the form of anyone, including Cas like last time) and a whole dropped plot thread that Cas made a deal with Ruby to break a demon out of the Empty, which only makes sense with the one and only demon he'd actually want to let out of the Empty. That's dangling one 'ship a whole bunch of carrots (like every single Clarence reference for a decade) to rip the rug out from under them.

I suppose I should've seen it coming when the previously on segment for 15x13 was a Pizza Man and the Babysitter retrospective that shoved Cas out of the Pizza Man role beside Babysitter Nurse Meg to shove Dean into Megstiel's sexy times meme. I guess it turned Cas into just Dean's Baby in a Trench Coat (which was an insult about being useless to Dean's cause without powers, which suggests Cas has no worth to him otherwise), since he got infantilized with the removal of the Pizza Man originally being him.

I still haven't watched the episode. The Tumblr crap is that off-putting.

What should've been an epic moment in Cas' story is now tainted by his love of humanity, found family and free will (his real love story is with all of humanity and finding belonging, in spite of always being on the outside looking in on a life he can't have because he's not human) being reduced to horny girls who just want fetish smut with Dean and don't give a fig about canon Cas outside of a toxic, abusive crack!ship. It's always so immature and vapid!

It was immediately clear when I joined the fandom that shockingly few gave a crap about any character but Dean, even refusing to see what he's become in later seasons. Also numerous examples where they admit having not seen the show in a decade or only knowing the show via manipulative .gif sets. Cas and Sam (if they remember him at all) are just props or prizes to be won. They ignore context of familial/platonic relationships. Canon love interests aren't good enough because they're not the big prize of being a main. I also note the deluge of Wincest girls who hate Cas for existing (he's in their way) in the anti-Destiel tag.

I can't say the .gifs are making me want to watch, even though the dialog is vague enough to still fit Cas' actual character for the general audience who isn't glued to social media.

As for Dean's non-reaction, I had similar problems with Jensen's constipated acting back in 15x03 when Cas finally walked away while Dean looked like he couldn't care less, which the writers coincidentally praised Jensen for (holy crap that interview was up his backside) and completely ignored Misha actually giving a good performance in a scene that actually meant something long coming for Cas. I certainly can't say the same about the quality of this scene, which just looks forced on both ends.

I hope I like the episode more than the sounds of it, but my hopes aren't high. This is not how I wanted Cas' final moments on the show to be.

After:

Well, I got up the stomach to watch it tonight. Thankfully, in context, it definitely got blown way out of proportion by what the Hellers turned it into (as usual). Yeah, even when watching while unfortunately not blind to the wackadoodle fandom discourse, it played out better on screen than the .gifs. And frankly, a whole lot less like creepy Care Bear stare nightmare fuel than the few choice screenshots kept showing (yikes). I still wish Sam and Jack had been there, because they're just as much part of what connected Cas to feeling like part of a family (even more so in the later years), but it's not the total monstrosity it was turned into online.

Average viewers who just take canon as is without trying to read into it what they want to be there instead, IMO, will safely interpret it platonically (even if coming after a particularly hellish few years in Dean's personality rot where the whole friendship was beginning to be questionable) more often than not because that's what the canon has said for a dozen years. Again, I repeat that Cas already told the Winchesters he loved them when he thought he was dying.

It's a crime to have Cas' perfect philia (brotherly), storge (parental) and agape-style (sacrificial and unconditional) loves being immaturely twisted into eros in a way that degrades the whole meaning of the character's journey. People telling each other they love one another when it's not sexual should never be mocked into being afraid to do so because of this insidious, willful misinterpretation. If only somebody had told Cas they love him instead of him always being the one with his heart on his sleeve!

This character went from being tortured into a robotic, emotionless, ancient, not-remotely-humanoid being who couldn't relate to the simplest of human needs to being someone deeply in love with humanity and wanting to find belonging amongst it despite knowing it would always end with him watching them all grow old and die after having families and such experiences angels are forbidden from having (another reason why Jack was so important to Cas' story).

The wording is valid for that philia/agape interpretation, given Cas definitely equated Dean (whom Cas watched sacrificing himself for Sam endlessly, including why he had to be raised from perdition in the first place) with a guide role in his learning to understand humanity and proudly-defiant free will before he could love it. It's valid enough to say that Cas wouldn't have broken his programming permanently without being challenged to question everything he'd ever believed and give up his entire angelic belonging. That much of it did begin with Cas just happening to be the angel who succeeded in the Hell rescue.

Obviously, it's also canon that Cas had a long history of not following orders and getting lobotomized by Naomi, but Cas actually understanding humanity and what free will means did happen only after this particular rebellion. I'm very glad at least that was in the speech, but of course, it's being hopelessly ignored.

I stand by my interpretation that what Cas can't have has always been the tragic version of The Little Mermaid where she turns into sea foam in the end. Cas has always looked in on what everyone else takes for granted from the outsider's perspective. There's a part of him that will always be left out, no matter how well he learns to fit in and how much those around him begin to treat him as a real person. Cas never really got to truly belong with humanity, no matter how much he loves and is loved by it. He's also not getting to stay where he wants to be. There's no Pinocchio ending for Cas that turns him into a real Winchester.

Sadly, Dean's constant othering of him and Jack like they're just more monsters to hunt only alienated them more. Jack was someone Cas could relate to as a supernatural being capable of human emotions, which might also have furthered his draw towards Meg. Sam was also someone Cas could relate to as freaks and abominations amongst their own kinds. Sam always had that same struggle, also with his own family. It goes a long way towards explaining why Sam was always so empathetic to Cas and Jack in a way that Dean couldn't be. All three kept conflicting with that black & white humans = good/other = bad mindset that sometimes creeps in with Dean. When Cas was Dean's "best friend" in the early days, he rationalized it by thinking of Cas as being "like" a human ("You used to be human, or at least like one.").

Yet it still remains true that Cas often found himself looking to Dean to teach him about humanity back when he didn't know enough about it to be inconspicuous amongst them. Dean gave him the crash course in both what humanity is willing to do for each other, but also its flaws and failings at the same time.

Perhaps the saddest scenes in the episode were actually Sam watching everyone poof in front of him. Sam has really been forced to watch a lot of death scenes this season all by himself (as with Rowena), but he looked the most broken by Eileen's. Cas is going to be hard on him, because I genuinely think Sam was far closer to him in the end. Sam was the one who actually was trying to reach out to Cas when Dean repeatedly kept him out of the loop. Sam being left out from the final words with Cas or even hearing first-hand about the deal with the Empty just furthers that tragedy. While Dean has been raging at everything in sight, Sam and Cas have both looked broken, sad and tired all season.

[jonah-aesthetic]

Patronus  Jonah Marais/ WIP

Jonah Marias X Harlow Darling 

Plot: Having mutual friends doesn't mean they're friends. Although after helping his sister out of an unfortunate situation. Jonah offers her a deal she couldn't give up. 

A/N: Since the only thing on my Tik Tok fyp is Draco Malfoy. I thought of continuing this fic. although the Why Don't We boys are on hiatus at the moment so I dont know if I should. 

The corridors of this ancient school gave me a sense of safety and home. At least I think this is what home felt like. My black robe flowed around me in almost angel like wings, as I carried out my Prefect duties. Night patrol Just past curfew to see if anyone dared to disobey the time. 

Both of my parents came from wealthy pure blood families. Because of it my family has been well known throughout the wizarding world. The name Darling had been carried out for centuries. It didn't exactly mean I despise the name, just that I wasn't proud to have it. For decades it has been an excuse to gain disgusting power. 

The name Darling meant I had to chose every decision I make carefully. I usually keep my image clean for my family, but for some damn reason it’s hard for my younger brother to do so. Hunter needed a leash quick or we might just end up on the daily prophet soon. 

With the way my father had presented our family you would’ve thought we belonged to a Slytherin family. Pure bloods who were overly formal and sleek, who happen to have high jobs and connections with in the ministry of magic. I didn't enjoy portraying myself as one of them but at the end of the day I am one of them. It ran through my blood with each heart beat.  

Night patrol was a fairly easy job, make sure no students we out after curfew and reported anything out of the ordinary to professor Mcgnagall. On a good day it took an hour to cover the school grounds with my best friend Jack who just happened to be the 2nd prefect. Now it took 30 minutes since we decided to split up, cutting patrol in half for us. After the Griffindor prefects complained we were goofing around and not caring enough about prefect duties. 

I didn’t see the big deal, there wasn’t much to patrol. Unless you wanted to yell at some mice who most definitely belonged a couple Hufflepuffs. Gabbie was a high tailed pure blood who should’ve been in Slytherin anyways. Well it’s that or she’s jealous of how close me and Jack are, after all she does fancy him to a great extend. 

Although I think it’d be easier to ask Jack and Daniel, the first prefect from Griffindor to switch places. Slytherin and Hufflepuff swap quidditch players often for practice when one has class or detention I don’t see the harm in it. 

Hearing younger voices grabbed my attention, with quick feet I walked towards the commotion. Coming up to the corner I block myself from view trying to get a better sense on the situation, peeking around I could see 4 younger students cornered a timid girl with wands held out towards her. They smiled with confidence as they watched her tremble.  

“..It’s funny how you think you're one of us mudblood.” 

“You know it’s unheard of for Slytherin to have non-magical parents right?” 

What surprised me most was the ones holding the wands were ravenclaws. I remembered them from the ceremony and I’ve seen them around here and there. This behaviour was an automatic detention, students were forbade to threaten each other with magic. 

Pulling my dark mahogany wand from my boot I uncovered myself. shouting “Expelliarmus!” an almost effortless defence wand cast. Several sparks ignited from the end of my wand, knocking theirs out of hand and clanging to the other side of the hall. startled, squeaky gasps fell from their lips right before the attention was on me. I watched as the potential alpha’s eyes flicked from villain to victim in 0.2 seconds.

The thing with self-absorbed pure bloods was you had to hold higher authority or they’d eat you for breakfast. I know because I was one. I held that high-tailed blood in my expression before. I only had acquaintances then, most students feared me. After awhile I began to dread the feeling.  

“We know the rules, we’re defending ourselves.” One of the Ravenclaw boys spoke up, his eyes holding so much promise I almost believed the kid. The timid Slytherin looked at her shoes not daring to look at me. Telling me that the boys got away with this often. 

I laughed at them humorously, “Detention all of you, I don’t believe your pity act. I witnessed what you did and frankly I’m not gonna let it slide.” I said with smooth tongue as I shrugged my shouldered at them. 

Their faces dropped as they looked at me in shock. “B-but we didn’t-”  

“Drop the act, remember your blood Isn’t gonna take you that far. 50 points from Ravenclaw for each of you. Don’t bother arguing and head back to the common room.” 

The shock was noticeable through their body language. One opened their mouth and then closed it again not daring to say anything. One soon scurried to their wand and took off into the direction of the Ravenclaw's common room. The rest followed in a matter of seconds. I smiled to myself, mission accomplished.

The Slytherin girl finally looked at me, Her eyes full of fear. “I get detention as well?” her voice was so soft and timid I almost didn’t catch it. With a warm smile I shook my head gently. “Oh god no, Honey you didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Her expression was soft as a small smile reached her lips, as she breathed in a few sniffles. She had been previously crying, causing her green eyes to dull. 

“What’s your name?” I asked her with a brighter smile. 

“Svea Marais” Her tiny voice more audible then before. 

“I’m Harlow Darling” I responded. 

Her eyes lightened up, matching the colour on her headband. “Like the Darling Royal Family?” She asked with fully curiosity. I kept smiling at her even though I was reminded of something I wasn’t fond of sharing.  

“Yeah” I replied knowing she was getting more comfortable with me. Letting her focus on me rather then the Ravenclaw’s words. 

“You seem different then them.” 

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” I ask her playfully, knowing the answer

"Definitely  good." She responded with tiny giggle that made me adore her.

I continued to smile at her as a comfortable silence came over us. We looked at each in an almost admiration. I felt the need to be someone she would look up to, like I couldn't let her down. As if she were a younger sibling. 

“Come on Svea, I’ll walk you to Slytherin dungeon.” I spoke softly after awhile,

“Okay” She had said following behind me. Slowing my steps slightly so she would catch up and walk beside me rather then behind me. The corridors of this massive castle were long and dark, lit only my torches on the sides of the walls. Our detestation wasn’t too far from where we had been. 

“Wanted to thank you Harley, for not choosing their side. It happens often you know, being a mudblood and all.” Looking at Svea I caught a sad smile graze her lips. My heart wrenched at the sight. 

“Svea It’s not right nor was it okay what they said to you. You’re a witch just as much as I am, your blood doesn’t make you anything less.” 

We were coming up to the dungeon quickly, as she stopped a few feet away. “Thank you, I appreciate what you said.” Her green eyes sparkled as her frame became less timid. “Don’t be a stranger, come to me if you need anything.” I started stepping away, putting distance between us. 

“I will.” and with that I turned away, heading back to Ravenclaw tower. Which had been across the castle, but at this moment it didn’t bother me. 

Walking into the common run I come to discover my best friend since we were five, Jack. He sat on the royal blue couch his head rested on the back of it. His attention on the charmed ceiling. Which represented a set of constellations somewhere in the world. The stars would instantly connected after he named them off silently. His Corgi Companion Lucifer was fast asleep in his lap, light snores emitting off him. I couldn't but awe at the small pooch. 

“Hey dork” I spoke playfully. He whispered a startled ‘Vanish’, and the charmed ceiling began to scramble for a fresh collection of constellation. He looked at me in relief, “What took you so damn long?” It was more of a whine more then a question. As if he was bored for the last hour rather them 20 minutes.  

I sat down on the left of him as the right was already taken. I sighed, “Well lets see, I gave detention to a few Ravenclaw boys. As well as took their wands out of the kindness of my heart.” 

“Finally putting your foot down huh?” He teased raising his eyebrows at me. 

“Hey I Can bite back, for your information” 

“I know, I remember that time last year. All I’m saying is you don’t like to, because you're the Ravenclaw princess.” I rolled my eyes at him cause I wouldn’t exactly use that word, but he was right nonetheless. 

“What was so ‘horrible’ that made you go all Royal blood?” 

“They were threating a Slytherin Muggle-born, wands held to her throat. Poor girl was trembling, I would never stand for anything like that.” I said my breath a little shaky as I was raddle about it. 

“Hey It’s okay.” Jack says reassuring me, his eyes go soft as he reaches for my hand and squeezes a pulse. He’s done that ever since I could remember every time he senses my nerves going haywire. which wasn’t too often. It never failed to put me at ease. 

“You did every thing you could.” 

“I know, I just feel like I could do more, I mean they called her a mudblood for god sakes.” He pulses again, his hand in mine was comforting and warm. More platonic than romantic. 

A beige blob in the distance take my attention from gentle brown eyes. It was Denrick my Siamese cat, my companion, and my support. a tiny meow rumbles through this body after I make eye contact with his piercing blue eyes.  

  “What was her name?” Jack’s voice become more tender towards me. 

“Svea Marais.” 

Jack is quiet for a little bit after that, like I had done something wrong. The feeling of Denrick’s soft paws in my lap made me jump a little. He wasn’t fazed by it was her curled up and began to purr. I petted him subconsciously, It’s almost therapeutic.

“Did I say something wrong?” I asked cautiously,  Jack looked away suddenly entertained by a bookshelf. 

“No, Um She’s Jonah’s younger sister.” 

Of course she is, how the hell did I not put it together? They had the exact same eyes, the bright green intensity. 

“He’s gunna come and look for you.” 

I swallow Thickly, “I Know” 

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

All I could remember was the red bird that caught fire. Flying over head screeching before soaring through the sky graciously. spreading it’s wings full and bursting into flame. 

It was a dream, because I was sudden heaving in bed as Christina, one of my first friends at Hogwarts. Looks at me with full concern and worry. “Phoenix” My voice raspy. 

“I don’t understand.” 

Catching my breathing, I choked a little. “I saw a phoenix in my dream, I think it was a sign or a symbol. Do you know anyone with a Phoenix Patronus?”  

Patronus guardians take the shape of an animal the castor shares the most resemblance with. In a sense it’s kind like a spirit animal. If the castor had the skills to become an animagus their form and patronus guardian would share the same animal. Which is by far the best part of being a witch. 

“At the moment, I have no idea. Although I do know we definitely should prepare for breakfast.” She holds out a hand for me to take, “What time is it?” 

“6:50″ 

“Guess you were right.” I said placing my hand in hers as she pulls my tired ass out of bed. 

--------

 Christina walks ahead of me into the great hall as I fall behind fixing the blue and bronze tie. The loud chatter from inside made me miss my bed. Although the delicious scent of pancakes made my stomach growl.

“Darling what the hell is taking so long!” It wasn’t a question, but a demand. 

“Calm down I’m fixing my tie, it was lose.” 

Christina looks at me un amused and rolls her eyes at me dramatically. I shrug at her before grabbing her arm and began to kidnap her to the Ravenclaw table where I saw a certain curly headed boy. “Sucks you can’t sit with your boyfriend today.” I say taking a seat in front of Jack.