#AND ACTUALLY like because of that this season is way harder to follow bc i tune out the interpersonal relationships

[astermath]

nemesis; part two.

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: with carmen reworking the restaurant, you’d think his mind would be far too occupied to even think about anything else. yet he can’t shake the guilt from what he’d put you through a month prior. after some talks in therapy, he decides to take a leap of faith and see if he can talk it out with you. he not only wants to convince you that he can be better, but he's got an offer for you too. one you truly can't refuse.

♡ landing page ♡

word count: 4.9K

tags: carmen being unsure about his feelings but trying to be better episode 3265742, letting reader in a little more, APOLOGIES!!!, cursing ig, carm goes to therapy yippee, syd being the absolute realest, regular font below!

notes: sorry this took literally forever omg, I lost my carmen muse for a bit but we are SO back baby. I missed him so much and so sorry if some things don't follow the canon completely (I've been watching season 2 on and off bc I've been so busy lol BUT my fics never follow the canon completely anyways),, hope u guys enjoy and let me know if you'd like a part three ;))

lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content! comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Carmen’s life hadn’t known a moment of mental rest in ages. If you asked him when he last sat down with his thoughts or acknowledged his mental anguish, he probably would have said he couldn’t remember the last time. If ever.

With plans to completely revamp The Beef and everything that came with it, now his feelings should be the last thing on his mind. Renovation plans, unforeseen costs and a completely new menu, sure, he could worry his ass off about those, but feelings? Absolutely not. Good thing he was usually so good at suppressing those anyways.

So why was it that he couldn’t shake the thought of what he did to you?

Why, every time he had a moment to himself, would he be overtaken by this intense feeling of guilt? He didn’t even have to be alone, just a second of quiet and the image of you crying in distress would intrude on his thoughts.

It was getting to a point where he’d told his sister, Natalie, about it. Well, not all of it, he wasn’t even sure if he knew all of it. Just that he knows he hurt you, and that coming to terms with what he projected onto you might be a good first step in understanding himself better.

Or maybe it was something more along the lines of “I gotta talk my shit to some people”. Probably that.

To his surprise, it was actually helping. Besides the group therapy sessions where he’d talk about Mikey, the business and his future, he was talking to other people in his life too. Even told Sydney about you, kind of on accident. The words just seemed to… Flow out. It was probably the exhaustion doing its thing.

“I guess I just felt like,” he kept his eyes on the floor he was sweeping, “she was doing it all to fuck with me. I don’t even know where I got the sick idea that she had some obsession over me, but it— it drove me at the same time. It’s like her being on my heels at every aspect of culinary school just made me want to try even harder.”

“Maybe you painted her in that light because you knew it was a good way to keep pushing yourself.” Sydney spoke almost absentmindedly, sweeping the other side of the room. She listened to everything he said in the meantime, and though what he was telling her was a bit worrying, she was glad they got to have talks like this. Carmen often doesn’t like to bring up his past like that.

“Huh,” he paused sweeping for a moment, “yeah… yeah, maybe. Or maybe it was something else.”

Sydney wasn’t even sure he knew what he was referring to. It sounded like something entirely different, like a crush, but what kind of person treats their crushes like that?

Probably an overworked, pressured, overachieving culinary student with a dangerous need for validation. But she wasn’t about to tell him that.

“So yeah, I visited her restaurant, and… It just felt the exact same as back in New York, you know? Like she was rubbing it in my face again, and— and I know that sounds insane, or conceited, but I just can’t let it go. It’s like the thought of her is stuck to my brain like a stubborn piece of gum.” He wanted to smack himself for that stupid analogy, but what was said was said.

“So how’d you handle it?” Sydney’s head perked up, some of her braids now draping over her shoulders.

“Handle what?” Carmen became more and more uneasy the more he talked about you. Like his chest was tight, it was uncomfortable, but not in the way he was when the health inspection came by, it was different. Weirder. Unfamiliar. He didn’t like it, because he didn’t understand it.

“The talk with her.” She emptied the last bit of dust into the trash bag.

“Oh,” his mind took him back to the parking lot a month ago. The way he could almost taste the tears of your skin from how close he stood, he could hear the shakiness of your breath and the profound desperation in your voice when you apologized to him, when you really had no reason to.

If it was still so clear in his mind, then what must it be like for you?

“Carmen?” Sydney snapped him out of his oncoming train of thought.

“Yeah? Sorry, I— Uh, I don’t know it was…” He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly finding it in his best interest to look anywhere else but her face. “Bad. It was— It was bad.” He looks a bit shameful when he meets her eyes. “I fucked up. I like, went all New York boss on her. And then I just… Left.”

His colleague just stares at him for a moment. She knew what he was like when he snapped like that, but that was with his staff, people he liked. So how badly did he snap on you, a person he’d been resenting for years?

“I’m gonna go take out this trash, and uh… Head home.” She lifts the grey plastic bag she was holding. “But uh, Carm?”

“Yeah?”

“You got issues, man.” She has a bit of an awkward smile on her face, but he knows she means it. He knows she’s right. She usually is.

He nods, silently, letting her words sink in. He did have issues, everyone knew that, but most people didn’t just say it. That’s why he liked Sydney, she was so real, so honest. She was so good for the business, for the kitchen. And maybe her saying that to him was all part of grounding him in the reality of it all. Of his issues, just that they existed.

“Heard.” he says. His voice comes out raspier than he expected, like he’s struggling to say it.

“Goodnight, chef.”

“Night.”

He’d thought about what Sydney said the entire night. He does have issues, he knows that, he’s just mad at himself for letting everything get this far before seeking help. It scares him. Because it reminds him too much of Mikey. Or what he heard about him when things got bad.

He doesn’t want to make the same mistakes his brother did. Lock people out of his life just because it seems easier, because it’s better to minimize the damage than to figure out why you’re doing damage at all. And yes it’s uncomfortable, yes it’s scary, terrifying even. But he keeps being reminded of how it must feel for you.

It’s something he’d never considered before. He always thought he had you all figured out, all fake smiles and backhanded compliments to distract him. It never occurred to him to just… Ask. It was always just easier to assume. It fit his view of you and it kept him going, even if it was at the expense of ever getting to know you at all.

He’s hoping he can change that with a few text messages and a long, probably uncomfortable, talk over coffee. Just hoping, trying, that’s really all he can do. He’s well aware of how bad he is at communicating, but he has to give it a shot. For you, at least.

He stares at his phone screen for far longer than is necessary, continuously rereading the messages he’d typed. His eyes keep flicking to your contact, making sure he sent it to the right person. The only thing you two had texted about before was a time and place for him to try your new restaurant. His heart aches at the exclamation points and emojis you’d sent; you were so excited, and he drove all that excitement straight into the ground.

He closes his eyes and shuts off the phone. His chest hurts, like he’s been holding his breath the entire time. Maybe he has. You could have that effect on him, making it harder to breathe. He always wondered why he had such nervous reactions around you specifically. He always figured it had to do with your one sided rivalry, but it feels… Different. More complex.

Your eyes are finally peeled off your computer screen when numerous phone notifications alarm you. Truth be told, you’ve been trying your best to keep yourself occupied as much as possible. That usually helps when you get waves of emotions like this, keeping busy, distracting your mind from overthinking.

Ever since your last encounter with Carmen, you’ve been so on edge. Always trying to do something, anything, so you wouldn’t have to think about what happened, why he acted like that to you. Because you know if you did, you’d just start blaming yourself again, and you’d be back to square one.

Your eyebrows raise at the name of the contact. You were sure he’d blocked you, or at least deleted your number after last time. He was avoidant like that, and frankly, you weren’t sure if you wanted him to talk to you again after that anyways. Maybe it was just to drive the point home, make you feel even more worthless.

Still, you were curious. Even if it was just to cuss you out even more, at least you knew what to expect, right?

[carmen]: hey, I really want to talk to you about what happened last time.

[carmen]: well

[carmen]: I want to apologise

[carmen]: but I can’t do that like this

[carmen]: I’d much rather do it in person

[carmen]: if you’d let me

[carmen]: meet me at odette’s tomorrow around 10? coffee’s on me, I just want to talk

[carmen]: please

The last message was sent minutes later than the rest, while you were reading them. He was desperate for an answer, and though you wanted to hear him out, to talk to him, something in you felt off about the whole thing. Like he was just doing this to clear off his own guilt, only to then ditch you just like he ditched you after culinary school. Because you’re rivals, apparently. That’s what you do.

But then there’s something else in you too. The part that’s still nostalgic about New York with him. About the glances back and forth when you were timed on preparing certain things, about the way he’d stare at you when you got feedback, the ignorant bliss you lived in. When you still believed he might have liked you just a little.

That part of you takes the upper hand when you reply and take his offer. Your heart is in your throat, nerves overtaking you already and you weren’t even with him yet. He had that effect on you sometimes, making it harder to breathe.

You wondered what that meant.

Carmen sits alone at a booth, all the way at the back of the café he’d chosen. It’s rather quiet, as most Mondays are, yet at the same time, it’s so loud. Loud in the way he hears the clinking of every spoon against porcelain cups, the crinkling of a napkin and the not so subtle ticking of the clock above the entrance. 10:06. You were late.

Suddenly he's filled with more regret than he's ever felt before. He's not ready to see you again, only to be reminded of how he made you cry, and of his own tumultuous emotions and shortcomings that lead to this moment. It's surprising how fast the emotions he associates with you changed; he's not angry anymore, he's scared, guilty, nervous. He wants to see you so bad and yet he feels like you'd be better off never talking to him again.

It's too late to make a run for it when you finally walk through the door. Hair a little damp from the rain, just a bit disheveled from what he could only assume to be rushing over to the café. And that same angelic smile you offer to the barista that greets you, the same one you'd offer him every morning, whether he looked at you or not.

He had no choice but to look now.

Your smile falters into something more nervous, a little melancholic, when your eyes meet his across the café. Though you knew he was going to be there, something in you feels surprised to see him again. Maybe it’s because he isn’t yelling at you or throwing insults at your head this time. Or maybe because he’s actually looking you in the eye. Since when did he get so good at that?

You sit down across him, taking off your coat and putting your bag besides you.

“Hey.” You smile again, much more awkward this time.

“Hey.” He returns the same thin lipped smile.

It’s quiet for a few seconds. Carmen swears the whole café has gone silent in that moment, leaving the two of you to listen to the sound of your own breathing and heartrate picking up. You’re not sure where to look, not being used to being in such an intimate setting with him.

“Do you want a coffee?”

“Sorry I was late.”

You both talk over each other, and the urge to chuckle about it overtakes you. Carmen can’t help but smile as well. You seem nervous, and somehow that puts him a little more at ease. Like he’s not the only one who’s in their head about it.

“Sorry, I, uhm, yeah— I would like a coffee.” You scramble over your words. “Please.”

“Sure,” he nods, “and no worries.”

“Hm?”

“That you were late. I haven’t been here that long either.” He lied. He’d been there half an hour early, cursing himself for letting him sit along with his thoughts for that long and psyching himself out into almost leaving.

You both order and another heavy silence sits between you two. You both know why you’re there, what needs to be talked about. Yet neither of you know how to bring it up.

You’ve lived most of your lives believing this version of each other you had in your minds. Because it kept you grounded. Because it was easier. He never let you in and for the longest time, you were at peace with that. You could have a slightly distant view of who he was, your classmate, your rival. And he could do the same. Keep you out, pretend you were there to keep him on his toes, to always try to outdo him.

Those facades of each other don’t work anymore. The real world has forced you to reconcile with each other, whether you liked it or not.

Your coffee gets brought to your table, and both of you feel this urgency to say something, anything, at least.

“The pastries here are good too, if you want to get one.” He finally broke the awkward silence. He can start with talking about food, something he knows. If all else fails, resort back to that.

“I haven’t tried a pastry besides my own in a long time. Maybe I could learn a thing or two here.” You admit. He knows that feeling. He’s not nearly as adventurous with his food choices as he wants to be, but as a busy chef on the brink of a new entrepreneurship, it’s usually beef sandwiches and frozen meals.

“I think yours were better though.” He takes a sip of his coffee.

“Huh?” You look up, realizing you were avoiding eye contact by staring into your cup.

“The danish I tried at your place. It was fire.”

“Oh. Right. Thank you, we make everything from scratch.”

“I could tell.” He takes another sip. “I guess I— I kinda forgot to tell you that. In the heat of it all.” He huffs to himself. “Food was so good it made me upset.”

“Upset?” His word use frustrates you. Upset is when they forget to give you your sauce with your order. What happened back there was not upset. That was rage. Wrath. You raise an eyebrow and he realizes he said something wrong.

“Well, more than upset. Listen, I— We need to talk about what happened.” His blue eyes peer into your own. They’re almost distracting enough to avoid you noticing his fidgeting hands.

“I’m listening.” You lean back slightly in your seat. You’d played nice with Carmen all your life, given him every chance to return it. Now it was his turn to try.

"Right." Of course he has to talk. It's his fault, isn't it? He's the one who snapped-- why did he even imply you'd have to explain yourself? He runs a hand through his hair, and there he goes again, eyes darting across the café to find something to focus on as he sought out the right words. You'd almost find it endearing, how bad he is at this, if it wasn't so important to you.

"You don't do this often, do you?"

"What, like-- meeting up for coffee?"

"Talking about stuff. Your feelings and shit." You hid your slightly amused smile behind your coffee cup before taking a small sip.

"Oh. Yeah, no, I-- I don't. Not until recently." He takes a deep breath. Just like they had told him to. “I’ve been going to this therapy thing my sister recommended. S’not much, but… It’s a start. Talked about the restaurant, my brother—“

“Your brother?” Your eyebrows raise slightly.

“Yeah, my— my brother. Mikey.” He looks a bit surprised. He’s come to the shattering realization that he’s never told you anything about his personal life, ever. You don’t even know about one of the most important people in his life, his main drive. You’ve known each other for so long yet you know so little. “I never told you about him?”

“You never told me anything.” You answer curtly. “We never really… Talked, you know?”

“Yeah— yeah, you’re right. I just thought… Wow.” He smiles, more out of shock than anything. He feels so stupid. How immature is it to be feuding this much with a person who doesn’t know anything about you?

“I guess I really don’t know much about you either.” His fingers rake through his messy curls again. “Makes me feel like even more of an idiot for going off on you like that. Like I had you all figured out.”

“Yeah, that was uh... That was something." The mood shifts a little. His smile fades as soon as he sees the melancholy in your eyes return. Of course it wouldn't be that easy for you to forgive him, to feel better about all this. "You know, I never knew you thought of me like that." A small smile graces your features. Somehow it's sadder than the expression you had before.

"I mean, I knew you didn't like me. I was pretty much at peace with the fact that you were never going to like me, either. But I never thought you hated me that much." You sniffle, trying your hardest to blink away any oncoming tears. "Like your life, your entire career, would have been easier without me there at all."

His heart aches at the sight of you, all teary eyed and trying to be brave. You're much braver than him. Sadness is a much harder thing to express than anger. He's starting to figure that out more and more.

"I don't hate you." He starts. He sees the confusion contort your features, and he knows he's not making any sense. "I mean I did-- I did hate you. Or, maybe not you, just... The fucked up idea I had of you. And-- and that was on me, that was my own fault." He feels an urge to touch you; to rub your back, hold your hand, anything to comfort you. It's tearing him apart to know that he's the cause of all this.

"But why?" A single tear rolls down your cheek, leaving a wet streak on your skin in its wake. "Why did you think that about me? I-- I get that we had a little rivalry going but jesus Carmen, did you really think I spent my whole culinary school career trying to outdo you?"

"To be honest... Yeah." He feels ashamed. So ashamed. He hopes the waitress doesn't walk by and listen to any of this, see you crying, and make you feel even worse. "Cooking was always just... My thing. If I was good for anything, it would be that. So seeing you do so well at something I'd started to base my whole existence around, it made me jealous, so fucking jealous." He meets your eyes, even if it's hard. You have to know he's being sincere.

"And it's-- it's unfair, it's so unfair to you, I know, and I'm really fuckin' sorry. I'm trying to work on myself, on everything, and I hope I can prove that to you." His face has that red tint you recognize whenever he's nervous or stressed. You can tell this is taking a lot from him.

"Is that really all? You were just jealous?" Your voice is quieter, fragile almost.

"I don't know. I wanna think it's that simple but I really don't know. There's a lot I don't understand about me, or you, or us. My mind doesn't know how to react when I see you anymore I think, now that things are different." He takes a deep breath, like saying that took a physical toll on him. "You have this-- this weird effect on me, and I don't know how to cope with it. I think it was just easier to be mad at you than to be anything else."

Anger is easier to express than sadness. The easiest out of all emotions, actually. Sometimes a little too easy.

You look to the side, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. You huff out something close to a laugh, and though he’s caught off guard by it, he doesn’t mind it. Even if you’re laughing at him, at least that means you’re not crying.

“You’ve got issues Berzatto. You know that?”

“Yeah. I’ve been told.” He smiles, and it’s heartfelt this time. Not nervous, or sad, or awkward. He’s happy to see you a little more at ease.

“It’s just really crazy to me.” You trace your finger over the edge of your coffee cup as you talk. “I spent so much time in culinary school looking up to you. And then I find out you were always just trying to keep up with me.”

Carmen’s eyebrows raise a little at your words. “Looked up to me?”

“Yeah, like… Your drive, your passion, it’s so impressive. Always looking to improve, to do better, it just— it inspired me to do better too. As cheesy as that may sound.” You smiled. “S’why I opened up in Chicago, you know.”

“Really? Huh.” He leaned back in his seat.

“Because I wanted to work with you. Or for you. Either would have been fine with me.” You sigh. “I like owning my own place, but… I don’t know, for some reason I always imagined us working together.” You smiled. “Is that stupid?”

“No,” he replied quickly, “no not at all, I— I totally get that.” He’s quiet for a few seconds, and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head when he stares at you for a moment.

“I mean you’re a remarkable chef, really, like— insanely remarkable, and, well, we’re revamping the restaurant completely right now. We need people— more people, new people, and so, I was wondering— or I’ve been thinking—“ He stops himself from losing his breath from all his rambling, before he freaks you out even more than he already has.

“I want you to come work for us at the Bear.” He puts his hands together, as if he’s about to beg. “Please.”

You can almost hear yourself blinking out of confusion. There’s suddenly no more loud silences, no, the café seems dead quiet for once. All you can do is stare at him, wait for a laugh, because clearly this was a joke right? There’s no way Carmen Berzatto, chef supreme, arch nemesis of yours, would want you anywhere near him, let alone work in his own establishment.

“I’m sorry?”

He feels stupid already. You had every reason to say no. He’d been the biggest asshole in the world to you, he’d kept his distance all his life, and now he expects you to be his employee. Or, well, colleague, more so.

“I’m uh— we’re redoing the restaurant entirely. New equipment, new staff, new everything.” He swallows; the thought of everything that needed to be done arises for a moment. “We need people that work hard, who know what they’re doing and who are passionate about it. And I barely know anyone who’s better at what you do than yourself.” He pauses, waiting for you to stop him. But you don’t.

“So I’m asking if you’d work for me. With me. It won’t be anything like old days, if anything I— I need to learn from you.” He scoffs at himself. “Could take a thing or two about how to communicate with my staff.”

You smile, and he genuinely thinks you’re about to start laughing at him. You chuckle, but it’s not mean, it’s honest. Cute.

“You know, you have great timing.” You grin.

“I do?” the smile on his face reflects the hope he feels.

“One of my chefs wants to take over the place for me. Well, has been wanting to. I haven’t had an exact reason to say yes to her yet.” You shrugged. “Guess I do now.”

“…Is that you saying yes?”

“It’s definitely not me saying no.” Your eyes meet his, and there’s something between you both that’s different now. It’s not like there’s a switch that’s been flipped. It‘s more like this conversation was the turning page of a new chapter.

“I’ll think about it. I want to see it first. Maybe talk to some of your staff.” Carmen’s chest strains a little when he thinks about you interacting with Richie. Then he’s reassured when he thinks about you interacting with Sydney or Marcus. You’d fit in well, you have great feeling for people.

“Yeah— yeah, I get that. Totally. I can arrange that. Uhm, we’re renovating right now, actually, it’s all really kinda wild, but if you wanna stop by, chat with Syd, or Nat, or talk about the plans, let me know. I’m sure they’d love to talk to you.” He’s not lying, you seem like you’d get along well with them. Especially Sydney. Your thinking processes are very similar to each other. And to his.

Carmen gets the bill, even though you try to pay for it.

“It’s just a coffee, just let me get this one.”

You let him have this one, simply because you can’t argue with him after the conversation you just had. You’re in too good of a mood after his proposition too.

He walks you to your car, hands in his pockets when you reach it. It’s cold outside, and his breath comes out in visible puffs of air. His nose is a little red, but you think it looks cute.

“Thanks for coming, by the way,” he starts, “I know you didn’t have to. Like— after how I acted to you. But— But I really do appreciate that you’re givin' me a chance here.” He’d always been confused about how positive and faithful you were in people. He never thought he’d be grateful for those exact features too.

“No worries, I… I had a good time. I’m glad we talked.” The keys jingle as you fidget with them. Among them is a keychain in the shape of a cherry, he recognizes it. It reminds him of how little you’ve both changed. And how much.

“Yeah.” He sighs. Relieved, almost. “Me too. But I’ll let you leave, might wanna tell your chef the good news.”

“Good news?” You quirk an eyebrow.

“That you’re selling them the business.”

“I haven’t decided yet, Carm.” You scoff. But he can tell you have, you look too excited about it all to not have your mind made up yet. It excites him too. Scares him a bit as well, but what’s a new chapter without a bit of tension?

“Right. Sorry.” He huffs. “Just text me when you wanna head over to see the place. It’s uh… It’s a work in progress, but it’s getting somewhere.”

“I believe you. I’m looking forward to it.” You lean back against your car a little.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“See y’around?” You unlock it and walk up to the driver’s side.

“Course. Uh, don’t be a stranger.”

You grin, leaning down to get into the vehicle. “Never with you, Berzatto.”

He watches you drive off, standing in the cold for far longer than any sensible person has any business standing there. But he feels good. He feels warm.

He thinks about what you said to him before you left. You were right, you were never a stranger to him. You were always like a constant in his life; whether you were actually present or not. And even if he didn’t know that much about you, which he was insistent on changing, you were never a stranger.

Never with him.

tag list <3

@beebslebobs @thatone-brightstar  @spr3id  @deadandstill  @777iii  @magicboytrash  @dogdevourer @wiipes @sierrahhh  @crayzmarvelfan800 @azxulaa  @astridyoo15   @rexorangecouny  @azxulaa @jointherebellion215 @diorrfairy @chanluuvr @idontexist-anymore @wolfiealina

#carmenmath #aster writes the bear #carmen berzatto writing #carmen berzatto x fem!reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto the bear #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto blurb #carmen berzatto x y/n #jeremy allen white imagine #jeremy allen white fic #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto the bear fx

[tempenensis]

hello, i just wanted to say i discovered your blog recently and i love it so much. i’m studying Japanese (i’m at a very amateur lvl) bc i really want to be able to understand manga in its proper context and nuance. as well as be able to read all the extra contents. bc i noticed in JJK fandom there really isn’t a lot of translators around (there’s 2 or 3 i can think of). and i keep wondering why that is, and i wanted to know your opinion about it?

i’m asking bc after reading your blog i got the sense that your passion for JJK deteriorated over time… and i also noticed some other Japanese users who had JJK fan accounts abandon them. personally i think Akutami is a great writer and still delivering exciting chapters, so i don’t think it’s bc of the story.

is it bc of the fans? i know i have been really tired of them on the non-Japanese side. when i told someone how off-putting s/t/s/g shippers are to Japanese JJK fans she wouldn’t believe me and got really hostile. but my gut feeling is like what you’ve shared on your blog. that their (Japanese fans) general feeling is that the behavior from them is too wild. still, she told me she would go ask a Japanese person herself lol…

sorry to bring something negative to your inbox. it’s hard for me to find other JJK fans online who aren’t like that. so i wanted to msg someone who maybe has similar feelings to me.

anyways thank you again for your blog and translations, i hope you have a good day and i hope JJK can be a sincerely enjoyable thing for you again.

Hi, anon.

i noticed in JJK fandom there really isn’t a lot of translators around (there’s 2 or 3 i can think of)

Yeah. Firstly, we actually have official english release now, which is nice, but it means that there's less need for fan translation of each chapter weekly. Another might be because jjk is harder to translate compared to other manga, with its convoluted explanations. there's also an incident where a "neutral" translator getting harassed by the shipping fandom. I don't think anyone doing translation want that particular drama.

your passion for JJK deteriorated over time

For me, any manga is usually more of a fancy fleeting interest. But I somehow I got too attached to jjk lol. My actual interest is gacha games. But I've been following jjk since 2019, even before the announcement for the 1st season of the anime - which means it's been 4 years for me in this fandom. Honestly the fandom only got very bad that I can't stand it the last year. Burned out with added bad fandom makes me less motivated taking care this blog, but I promise I'll try to keep some effort for this blog until the last chapter of the manga. Keeping my distance from the fandom is my way to keep up my interest now, ironically

Like I said in a few posts before this, there's no help for that side of fandom. I'm really too tired to care about them. Best we can do is block and ignore it. At least fix the behavior regarding leaks

#le-ask #jjk

[jennycalendar]

im loving your energy rn, for me it came a point where i just avoid interacting with fandoms as much as possible because of these kind of stuff, somehow in every fandom i go people always have the worst takes on poc and it gets tiring so fast. with robin and kennedy my only takeaway after watching was that it sucked that they were only in s7 bc that season sucks at character development and i wanted to get to know them better, but then i come to tumblr and everyone hates them?

excuse me for thinking that spike wearing nikki's coat is not the super badass empowering moment it was framed as or that robin's hatred of spike shouldnt have been brushed off the way it was

and the episode on ats where there's a demon feeding from hatred feels super hypocritical given the treatment both shows give to poc, why are they suddenly talking about racism? same with the thanksgiving episode, why are the racist writers writing about racism?

idk i just get upset and thats why i limit the amount of fandom blogs i follow

getting around to this a little late so sorry about that :') i sort of have had the benefit of being in a corner of the fandom that's very small, and a lot of the dialogue around jenny (her and giles being the only part of the show i'm invested in teasing apart) is generally very receptive to discussing the anti-romani stereotypes that she is saturated in.

and honestly it's just .... yeah! yeah. i think one of the hardest parts for me is to see people who i enjoy and respect and have had conversations with just completely stepping back from engagement with the parts of this that aren't fun to think about. my most beloved bonus mom pointed out, like ... of course it makes sense that a lot of white people are not going to want to have these conversations in their fandom escape from frustrating shitty real life stuff, or think about how messy and intrinsic racism is, but thing is, there are people of color here too (like me! i don't talk about it much because my relationship to my jewish/indian ethnicity is So Fucking Complicated and Y'all Don't Know Me Like That, but it's very much part of what's going on w me!) who also want to have a nice little fandom oasis and end up not being able to enjoy it when there's just Racist Weird Shit On The Walls.

i've seen a couple of posts that have made me think that maybe my takes have breached containment a little, but i don't know if anyone actually heard what i was saying. this goes well beyond just going "the show was racist sometimes and we never talk about it and we should talk more about the racist parts of the show in greater detail," this is "the way we as a community talk about characters we love in fandom needs to not incorporate racism." which is something i have seen so many times here from white fans regardless of ship or character. and which is so much harder to unlearn because it is a consistent corrective process and it isn't as simple as not saying slurs on the internet.

also, yes. i hate the thanksgiving episode. i cannot stand it. i am going to have to get to it at some point and grit my teeth because whenever btvs does race it does it very very very badly.

#asks #but yes thanks!

[theharlotofferelden]

If there were ever a more demoralizing game, it’s ESO. I don’t care if there’s another online RPG that’s worse. There’s just something about going from Oblivion and Skyrim to ESO that cannot be replicated in any other franchise.

The first time I played EAO I was dumped on Khathnari (sp?) Roost. Very small island. Figured you just run around and stab things. BIG MISTAKE. The things you can stab (like crabs) stab back harder. There is nothing more demoralizing than being defeated by a crab in a game that, were it a standard single player game, you’d breeze right through.

And this was like. 2017. So the game had already been out for 3 years at this point so this was verymuch Intentional. I remember at like, level 15 looking up a build guide and encountering multiple sites that had dudes selling guides for $15-$20 or someshit.

Listen. I am a Bad Gamer. But if I’m gonna spend money on a game, I’m not spending it on that. I’m going to spend it on something even less valuable like a cute lil wolf mount. Why? Bc while the wolf mount should’ve arguably been in the game to begin with (the fucking business model for these games hinge on selling u an incomplete experience) I’m not spending money on what should already be an intuitive part of the experience. Do I look like a serious gamer to you????

Anyway I played for maybe about a year before I put it down indefinitely. I downloaded it again at some point and messed around with it a lil before putting it down again. Recently some IRL friends have invited me to play with them after dinner so I figured I’d just jump right back into it bc I know for a fact this game is fun with more people.

Big mistake. Idk how long it took me but somewhere in the last 6 years Bethesda/Zenimax completely respecced my main so I had nofuckingclue how I built that character. I blundered my way through rebuilding her by checking a guide on how to do so bc that’s generally what I followed when I first started Getting Serious about the game.

Like, if you’ve never played ESO let alone an MMORPG, these fucking games are usually built like wrist watches. There’s so much fucking shit you can do it’s ridiculous. And when seasonal events come along? Don’t get me started. Do NOT GET ME STARTED on that fucking Indrik mount I will collapse on the floor and will not start screaming bloody rage about all 9 iterations of that fucking thing I swaer to gOD.

But I’ve been doing arenas with friendos and it’s gradually coming back to me. And I’ve been doing it with 2 other healers and I’m the only DPS in the group so I was, as one of them put it , “the one carrying all the battles” in the game. Which was….A revelation. Could it be I actually made a decent character? Could I actually be Good At A Vidoe Gaem?

No lmao. Yesterday we hopped into a battleground and I. Died 14 times because one team was actively preoccupied with killing people instead of capturing flags like you’re supposed to. Some were actively camping out right in front of our spawn point just to fuck with us. And that’s not the point of the game!!!! You’re supposed to just run around capturing flags why are u being such a dick rn.

Anyway I love talking to ppl about this game bc most ppl tell me the same thing. How early on it was incredibly demoralizing to get your ass kicked by a crab or a wolf or some shit, yet they couldn’t stop playing because they were still having fun.

#elder scrolls #the elder scolls online #elder scrolls online #I’m kind of wondering if they rebalanced the game a bit tho #bc I made a new character on solo and found it was easier to level up #granted I know what I’m doing this time #and kind recall that leveling becomes more difficult after a certain point

[spatio-rift]

mar... can u catch me up on inazuma lore because i dont know very much about endou *smiling brightly*

hi lab yes of course im no expert on endou tbh but i will try my best!!

as far as inazuma characters go endou doesnt have too much going on but i think its a good thing for him. hes THE protagonist, raimons captain who sets the whole thing into motion. hes also the grandson of a very famous, legendary soccer player and coach who was the goalkeeper for the national team at some point and after retiring coached another legendary-to-be team which the series is named after (though these guys were middle schoolers)(and also never won any competitions... it was kageyamas fault he made them have a bus accident and stuff (he was also a middle schooler)). but his grandpa passed away before he was born (kageyama again, around ambiguously the same age..."ambiguously" because i can never tell if it was from the bus accident or some other incident. but shits crazy) so he never really knew him, and thats kind of why he picks up soccer: its the one connection he has to his dead grandpa. (though his mom is really against it at first because she thinks its what killed her dad)

now of course he doesnt play only to feel close to him he genuinely develops an intense passion &love for the game (while staying hilariously oblivious about everything going on in the soccer world. he doesnt know any famous players or anything). the first part of ina11 is about how he wants to bring his ragtag soccer team to the top by winning this one famous middle school soccer competition its pretty simple. i feel like its kind of refreshing in a way that his motivations are fully about his passion of the game despite the crazy plot with kageyama, while still feeling like a part of the whole thing since kageyama "murdered" his grandpa (hes not actually dead but we dont know this until much later) and bc of his intense grudge against him he wants to crush endou and raimon specifically so fucking bad. but it never really becomes about stopping kageyama for endou which is nice to me. he just really loves ball

endous not the brightest guy around, but his pure, free love of the game and very genuine & trusting disposition inspire everyone to rally behind him and root for him. i think the way he trusts and believes in people is definitely one of his strong points and being given that sort of support or a second chance like this really helped/saved a handful of characters in the series. hes just a guy you can help but yearn to be friends with or play ball genuinely with :) (but while his tendency to give people a second chance or trust suspicious people as long as they love soccer might make him look like an airhead its important to note that he still has limits and there are still things he considers unforgivable. i think that makes him feel more real and also seeing him get angry about certain things makes his trust in and ability to forgive other characters hit that much harder instead of being mere words)

now coming back to his grandpa. a huge part of his character imo is following in his grandpas footsteps, kind of inheriting his legacy by learning all the moves his grandpa came up with, training the way he did, etc... and quickly after the first game/season were asked the question of whether its good for him to continue just imitating his grandpa. what is..........interesting though, is that the 2nd and 3rd game kind of both deal with it... but in completely different ways?

ie2 proposes pretty early on that being a goalie isnt the only path open to endou. that just because his grandfather was a goalkeeper doesnt mean that endou has to be as well. and then later we meet tachimukai, a cute little first year whos a big fan of endou and even switched from midfielder to goalkeeper to imitate him. the thing is, as we are soon explicitly told, tachimukai has a LOT more natural talent as a goalkeeper than endou does, and he masters his grandpas ultimate move like its nothing. he was born to play this position basically, which eventually leads to tachimukai being asked to play gk for raimon instead of endou. and endou has very mixed feelings about this, because while hes genuinely happy for tachimukai, he cant say that hes delighted about leaving the position that connected him to his grandpa (and he also practiced that ultimate move on his own in secret at night, even though tachimukai already had it so the team had no use for a second player to master it). but at the same time, hes grown close enough to his team and as a player that he doesnt need to play the same position as his grandpa to feel connected to him like hes still got their shared love of soccer. ok this is getting long but basically i love this because endou ends up growing a lot and setting off on his own unique path and it also leaves a significant role for tachimukai to play (who otherwise never gets to do anything since there cant be two goalies in one match, and endou is the protag).

and it couldve continued to be explored in the next game since instead of going back to a school vs school type thing, where endou and tachimukai wouldve faced each other as goalkeepers on opposite sides, its a world tournament so just like ie2, players from all over japan coming together as one team representing the country. but.... ie3 completely abandons that idea and instead benches tachimukai forever, because endou is back as a goalie and the way to deal with that issue of only following in his grandpas footsteps instead gets turned into a "endou needs to come up with his own special move" thing. and i mean the way its written isnt bad or anything but i certainly like it a lot less than what ie2 had going on that involved tachimukai!!!!

errmm i might have gone a little off topic there and also its getting really long and i dont really have much more to say. my memory of s3/ie3 is pretty fuzzy atp cuz its been a while so i cant say much about what kind of character development he gets cuz i didnt really pay attention (its the kidou disease). but he does meet his grandpa again. erm ok thats enough i hope this was informative enough !!! hes a sweet lad

#inzm #its a little embarrassing... im putting it under a read more #ALSO I REALIZE NOW THAT MAYBE THIS WASNT WHAT YOU ASKED....... #it was lore and who endou is not my long ass interpretation and opinions on his arc (?) i... oh well...

[symhildr]

for this mission season, i will admit to losing track of all my threads ( only for ophelia since the other two muses are relatively new ) so i'll be making a housekeeping post soon.. because of the mission prompt's focus though, i might push ophelia to interact as much as the others.

; OPHELIA. ( @duskroine )

reason +1 prompt | i'm thinking of taking this as a means to explore her delusional mindset towards fairy tales & insertions into stories. she will be actively chaotic and manipulate the environment to cause problems while also getting lost in the routine w them. i'd prefer for her partner in this to be someone who's grounded more so than she is w her intentions. ( unaffiliated / ashen wolves muse required! )

faith +1 prompt | as someone who takes "getting into character" seriously, she'll admire and not question the fake's intentions. she'll definitely focus more on taking notes of interpretation and will be quite confused w a partner who's trying to cause issues for saint seiros or make her conquest harder. not arguing seriously, but she needs a shoulder shake or two on why this lady isn't good.

lance +1 prompt | would like this to be timed close to them just being inhaled by the book! to a point where the discovery of the front gates is something they are immediately thrust into. the partner and ophelia will be accompanied by two npcs that will be discussed. ophelia will immediately get in character though, this will be hard to get her out of towards the middle / end of the thread. ( unaffiliated / ashen wolves muse required! )

; FORREST. ( this blog! )

faith +1 prompt | for the point, really... but also i'd like to think that forrest will be on the "we should follow her and stay low" side instead of immediately throwing himself into involvement. is more interested in the growth of the following rather than the actual mission on hand though... also, he'll suggest peaceful ways of solving this issue. is against any outright or obnoxious forms of action. [ TAKEN BY CORRIN. ]

puppy seminar | the idea is beyond cute to him and he's extremely excited to be a part of the race! won't be against teaming up to find shortcuts / lead a teammate on if requested, it's all for good fun anyway! i would like to explore or bring up the differences of what "fun" is in nohrian culture ( definitely not sledding ) and mention weather differences bc i'm pretty sure that nohr barely snows or smth. [ TAKEN BY JULIA. ]

ethereal ball clean-up | for this thread, the struggling students are nawt helping them at all. forrest will be the first to step up and tell them to focus on the task at hand; your muse can either join the other side or help him remind the students of the lesson. the goal of the end of this thread is to test the leadership / voice of both muses so depending on which partner takes this, it’ll be quite the.. Ride.

any weapon +1 prompt | if you dislike leocorrin or mentions of the family, do not grab this thread offer. as a dragon, forrest definitely wants to try to keep the dragon from getting harmed. there will references of the information he’s learned from corrin about dragons in the world of fateslandia. forrest is not a fighter though and will suggest for their partner to first help with the citizens before tackling the entire wild dragon on the loose issue. ( unaffiliated / ashen wolves muse required! )

; RHAJAT. ( @tenayalla )

reason +1 prompt | alike ophelia, rhajat will be causing problems for the characters in an attempt to, not only amuse herself, but investigate reactions & effects that change the lifestyle. she enjoys the idea of "playing god" and will question / manipulate any partner that tries to stop her or reason for a slower approach at gathering reactions. this thread can go multiple ways depending on the partner. ( unaffiliated / ashen wolves muse required! )

faith +1 prompt | to turn this thread upside down, rhajat wants to help saint seiros with whatever her intentions are. although her and her partner were sent to stop this lady, rhajat will go against orders and assist the lady with her goal. it's up to your muse if rhajat gets to her and her following by force or support. the choice to get rhajat on your side will require a strong-minded muse, one who’s persistent with a good sense of justice. [ TAKEN BY INGRID. ]

flying +1 prompt | rhajat is playing dirty for this competition. for this thread, i'd like for her to be against your muse and a few others ( mechanisms will be explained later ). rhajat is not a kind person and will do anything to knock people's hats off so if you join her in this thread, remember the warning.

#〳◌ ⁀ « custom returned » ( OOC. )

[sarahisslytherin]

Hey congratulations on the followers! May i request a young!remus x slytherin!reader where in they kind of hate each other bc of their houses and remus thinks she is selfish etc but then he sees the reader help someone or help sirius and regulus talk or something and his views change? Thank you so much! Have a great day!

wowza, that was harder than i thought it would be. i had to fiddle with this countless times so as not to plagiarize the entirety of 10 things i hate about you lmao. this was super fun to write, thanks so much for the request, zoya. hope you love it!

gryffindor vs slytherin // r.l.

Summary: You’d never quite liked Remus Lupin, and the feeling was mutual. That wasn’t about to change, was it? Contains: Enemies to lovers, but like, fluff. Featuring a background friendship with Regulus Black that kind of just wrote itself, I swear it wasn’t me. A/N: This one’s kinda long so to quote Samuel L. Jackson in the critically acclaimed Jurassic Park (1993), hold on to your butts.

You’d never quite liked Remus Lupin. He and his friends caused nothing but trouble. And you just knew that he was the brains behind every one of the marauders’ practical jokes. Practical jokes almost always aimed at your house.

You’d never minded Black. You got along well with Regulus and though you thought Sirius could learn a thing or two from his younger but much wiser brother, you didn’t mind him. In fact, sometimes he could be quite pleasant, making small talk whenever he popped by to speak to Regulus.

As for Potter, he was a typical jock, self-esteem blown out of proportion, and definitely more irritating than Black. But even so, he still didn’t push your buttons the way Lupin did.

Lupin was a know-it-all, always striving to be top of the class in every subject. Though your house was no stranger to ambition and self-preservation, it never failed to send your eyes rolling back in your head whenever his hand shot up in class.

The feeling was mutual, this much you knew. The hard glares he’d send you in the halls did not go unnoticed. You supposed you’d brought it upon yourself, really, scoffing when he’d go to speak or making the occasional unrefined joke about Gryffindor. But why shouldn't you? His disdain for Slytherin frustrated you more than you’d like to admit. Somewhere along the way, the two of you had gotten used to the tension, often exchanging snide comments, both eager to outwit the other. You’d never admit it but you knew you liked it.

But one thing was for certain, you’d remind yourself: you’d never quite liked Remus Lupin.

The last quidditch match of the season was to take place the following day and you knew you’d get no work done because of it. Which is how you found yourself slipping into the library to get at least most of it done before curfew.

You’d been partnered with Regulus for a Potions assignment and needed to find a specific book. Last you checked, Lily Evans had been hogging it for the better part of the week, so you resolved to finally get your hands on it before someone else did.

Your gaze trailed over every book on the shelf until you finally found it.

“About time, Evans.” You muttered to yourself as you went to reach for it, but soon realized it was up one shelf too high for your stature. “Shit.”

There you were, bouncing up and down, hoping to gain enough impulse to finally reach the damn thing. But it was hopeless, wasn’t it?

“Having trouble, dear?”

You didn’t need to look to know the voice belonged to a highly amused Remus Lupin. You could practically hear the satisfied grin.

“No, actually. No trouble at all. So run along now. Don’t you have a professor’s ass to kiss?”

“Always so crass.” you heard him tut. “Hm, if only there were someone taller around to help with your little predicament.” he sighed as he leaned back on the shelf opposite you.

“Piss off, Lupin.”

“And I should listen to you because?”

You turned to face him as you retaliated. “Because I’ll hex you if you’re still standing here within the next three seconds.”

“Oh, dear.” he feigned worry, “Would you look at that? I’m trembling.”

“You should be.” you hissed as you reached for your wand, but one ‘expelliarmus’ from Remus and you were left defenseless.

“What do you want from me, Lupin?” you threw in the towel with a roll of your eyes.

“Do you ever smile?” he asked, catching you completely off guard. “I know you can, I’ve seen you smile. Especially when you’re dragging Gryffindor’s name through the mud with your fellow snakes.”

“I smile all the time, Lupin.” you assured him, “And I’ll be smiling tomorrow when Slytherin wipes the floor with you lot.”

“Is that so?” he asked in faux concern. “You are aware James is the best seeker Hogwarts has ever seen?”

“Please, more like attention seeker.” you snorted, chuckling to yourself a bit. You could swear you saw him bite down a smile out the corner of your eye.

“You’re impossible.”

“Thank you.”

He reached up for the Potions book, and you feared that would mean it was as good as gone, but to your surprise Remus handed it over to you. Not without a pompous smirk plastered onto his face, of course.

“It wasn’t a compliment, dear.” he crossed his arms as he took in your unnerved expression.

After this less than pleasant exchange, you spun on your heel and began to make your way out of the library. You thought you heard him call after you once more but paid no mind to it.

The halls were pure chaos. Students raced down the moving stairs, dressed from head to toe in their house colors. Normally, you weren’t really one for sports, but Gryffindor vs Slytherin was a match you simply couldn’t miss.

You struggled to make your way through the crowded hallway, carefully weaving your path through a group of fifth years until you reached the Great Hall. You made your way over to the Slytherin table and sat by Regulus.

“You going to the game?” you asked him as you began to scarf down your breakfast.

“Not much of a choice, is it?” he sighed, “Biggest game of the season and all.”

“S’pose so.”

“Have you got that book for our Potions assignment?”

“Yep.” you nodded as you took a swig of pumpkin juice. “Got it last night.”

“On your own? I thought I saw it quite high up on the shelves.” Regulus mused, his lips quirking into a faint smile.

“I might’ve had some help. Okay? Now eat up. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

“Alright, Mum.”

The stands were packed, Gryffindor and Slytherin voices overlapping in support of their respective teams. The scores were too close for Gryffindor’s liking, and you watched as Potter and Black zipped across the quidditch pitch, eager to reach a more comfortable margin. James would have to catch the snitch to win this match, and had it been any other seeker, the game would’ve been as good as won for Slytherin.

You cheered on beside Regulus, noting the way he stood stiffly, eyes trained on his older brother’s every move. You knew he hated being put in these situations, where he had to choose between house pride and supporting Sirius.

“Lighten up, Reg!” you shouted, “He gets it! Don’t worry about it! Now, come on, where’s your Slytherin pride?”

You caught sight of the smirk Regulus quickly tried to mask.

“Whooo!” he hollered, and you didn’t care whether it was for Slytherin or for Sirius.

James flew by with all that skill he so often boasted of. He was a talented player, you had to hand it to him. He’d caught sight of the snitch, according to the commentator, and was now picking up his speed as he began his pursuit.

The shouts from the opposite side of the pitch grew deafening, egging James on as he zoned in on his prey. It wasn’t until he was mere feet away that the shouts turned from those of excitement to those of concern, and James felt obligated to turn around.

“And the bludger knocks Black off his broom!”

You looked over to Regulus but found him already pushing his way through the Slytherin alumni on his way to the field, and you didn’t think twice about following suit. Bludgers were no joke. Sirius could’ve been severely injured from the fall.  

When you reached the field Sirius was already surrounded by the coach and his teammates. You watched as Regulus moved to stand by James and assess his brother’s state.

“Sirius?” Regulus asked.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Sirius assured him, rubbing his right arm to soothe the pain as he looked around and realized he was circled by concerned faces. “What, are you all here for little old me?”

A collective groan could be heard from every teammate at this and the huddle then dispersed, save for James, Regulus and yourself.

“Sirius, I was this close to catching the snitch!” James berated, running a hand through his wild curls. Sirius didn’t seem to mind. He knew how James got when it came to quidditch.

You extended your hand to Sirius and helped him up.

“You alright, Black?” you double checked with him once he was on his feet.

“Quite alright, love. Thanks for asking.” He gave you an uncharacteristically bashful smile. It was then when you peered over his shoulder and caught sight of a disheveled Remus Lupin making his way to his friends, no doubt after having to shove his way through the sea of red and gold before being allowed onto the grounds. You took it as your cue to leave.

“Alright, I’m gonna head back. Are you coming, Reg?”

Regulus shook his head. “I’m going to stay here a bit, you go ahead.”

And just as Remus had finally reached your little group, you took your leave.

You’d been holed up in your dorm room all evening. The rest of your housemates were throwing a party in the common room to celebrate their victory over Gryffindor.

But you weren’t having any of it. Merlin knows you were the last person to come to Gryffindor’s defense, but in your eyes, it simply wasn’t a fair win. So you decided to skip the festivities altogether.

That was when there was a knock at the door. You walked over hesitantly, not sure who would be on the other side of it, everyone you knew being at the party and Regulus checking up on his brother.

“Who is it?”

“It’s - it’s Remus.” came his quiet voice through the door. If anyone were to ask you, you’d say you opened that door out of sheer curiosity, but deep down you knew it was more than just that behind your actions. You pulled the door open a tad, just enough to get a good look at him.

“What do you want, Lupin?” you asked, but your usual snark was absent.

“Just wanted to congratulate you on the win.” he chirped, his voice a bit hoarse after cheering his friends on at the game. “I was a bit surprised when I didn’t see you downstairs. Thought you’d be celebrating with the others.”

“Yeah, well, it was hardly a fair win, now was it?” you chuckled, not quite used to engaging in niceties with Remus of all people.

“Well, it was technically fair.” he insisted, and you didn’t know whether to marvel at or be annoyed by his ability to turn everything into a debate.

“Oh, shut up, Lupin. You know what I mean.” you huffed as you went to shut the door once again, but Remus’s hand stopped it.

“Wait, that’s  – that’s not it.” he sighed, clearly flustered. “I saw you with Sirius on the field.”

“What about – “

“Just let me finish, dear.” he interjected, his tone unusually desperate, as if trying to recall a speech he’d rehearsed countless times before. As if he’d come down here to the dungeons with a purpose.

“At first, I thought you’d come to mock him or something like it. I don’t know. If I’m entirely honest, I’d gone onto the field with half a mind to hex you.” he snickered a bit at the thought and the further you two ventured into this unknown territory, the quicker you felt your heart beat.

“But then, after you left,” he continued, “Sirius told me that you’d been nothing but kind. That while James was busy obsessing over the game you and Regulus had gone down there to check on him. And – as much as it physically pains me to say this – I’m sorry.”

You weren’t quite sure how to respond to that curveball.

“You’re sorry? For what?”

That was when his cheeks began taking on a deeper shade of pink, similar to your own.

“For everything, really. For judging you. For being a pain. For constantly bickering with you. I don’t know why I do it, to be honest.”

“I do.” you offered, and he gave you a puzzled look in return. You weren’t sure where you were going with this, just as nervous as he clearly was.

“You do?”

“Yeah,” you said, stepping out into the dungeon corridor with him. “I think you fancy me, Lupin.”

At this, his eyes widened almost comically, and suddenly you weren’t so sure of your theory anymore. You hadn’t realized you had feelings for him until just now. Sure, you knew you enjoyed bickering with him more than you enjoyed getting along with anyone else. But you’d never read too far into it, certainly not the way you were doing just now.

After a few seconds too many of silence, you spoke again. “Sorry, I thought - Never mind. I have to go.” As you reached for the knob, his hand seized your wrist, and you couldn’t help but notice he was shaking ever so slightly.

“There you go again, my little snake.” he chided gently, almost cooing. “Slithering away every time I get too close.”  

You turned towards him and he brought a hand up to graze against your cheek.

“Would it make your ego even bigger than it already is if I told you that you were right?” he asked, tucking a few stray hairs behind your ear. “About me fancying you?”

“I don’t know.” you said, happily falling back into the banter that came so naturally to you when you were around Remus.

You draped your arms around the back of his neck and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, a stark contrast to the words you were both used to exchanging.

“Guess you’re just going to have to summon some of that Gryffindor courage and find out.”

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #enemies to lovers #kind of #idk #i really like this one tbh #take a shot every time this dialogue reminds you of kat stratford

[violenceenthusiast]

im curious why people are saying supernatural is jewish like idk if jewish writers makes an inherently jewish story especially when things like following out the christian apocalypse from revelations and showing a real physical g-d who is just some guy i think is super jarring since though christians claim to be against idolatry they seem totally fine showing depictions of gd or whatever i dont get jesus honestly but jews are far more strict and the idea of showing gds appearance is pretty wrong

WOOF okay um. Maybe this is one of those Tone Doesn’t Come Thru Well Online things but to me this is soo fucking rude… I’m half way between John Mulaney we don't have time to unpack all of that & Ben Wyatt wait it’s gonna bother me if I don’t explain why you’re wrong. 

This turned into all my thoughts. 

So like. First off, it’s all fun and games. We’re all just joking and joshing and projecting here on destiel dot tumblr dot com and Jupernatural is not an exception in a lot of ways. And so when someone shits on what we’re doing here (yes, even unintentionally) what you get is what happened: oh you think you’re funny well I’m about to be hilarious!!! aka I’m gonna do it even more now out of spite specifically because you said not to. Like it really is all jokes but also you know what’s not a joke? Antisemitism in all its forms, even the casual shit! It’s really draining and it builds up in your veins!! Just. Yeah. You saw a lot of people talking about it today in particular because much like other topics of the day, one thing kicks off a whole other turn of events. So like. one misguided comment that’s playfully antisemitic and then one more little one, and then one big/obvious one launched us (Jewish spn fans) into a whole bigger discussion about antisemitism and erasure of Jews in the spn fandom writ large. It’s one thing to be descriptive, offer a headcanon/what if, or employ a certain mode of analysis. It’s another thing to definitively say This Is The Truth, specifically when to do so overrides something else, especially in this case when what’s being overridden is Jews, an ethnoreligious minority. It’s also another thing to talk over Jews. And mind this has been building for days. Not in a bad way just like, it’s been topical for days and then today one big thing pushed it over the edge to us actually posting abt it (partially bc at that point it’s a pattern, which feels like it needs to be addressed). Like, destiel tumblr is small we pretty much all see all the same posts, and then Jewish spn fans… we’re friends, we chat about life? We joke around together, y’know? If you’re being antisemitic (yes, even unintentionally) we’re all gonna hear abt it. It’s how we stay safe or in this case, curate the online exp.

That being said tho projecting on fiction is like fun and even a good thing at times, and def opens up new modes of analysis. But! the other big thing here is that there IS a LOT of evidence for a Jewish reading of spn, in a lot of ways, and particularly if you know what to look for. Like there’s lots of niche Jewish slang (non-Jews just don’t know these things, and that is a reflection primarily of the writers but once you put it in the script it implies things about the characters too of course), the theology of the early seasons (I’ll get to that in a second), main character motivations (hold on), “Moishe Campbell” implying Mary is (and therefore Sam and Dean are) Jewish, etc. 

It’s not surprising to me or anything that non-Jews don’t catch anything/everything Jewish about spn but that Jews catch both sides of it, because that’s just how being part of a marginalized group works. You learn about your own stuff AND the dominant culture’s stuff because that’s how you survive (socially, psychologically, literally). Members of the dominant culture don’t need to learn the marginalized one, are never confronted with it, and so they just.. don’t. I don’t even mean that in a normative or accusatory way, that’s just an observation on the state of things. Non-Jews who aren’t part of another marginalized religion, aka expressed xtians and cultural xtians, have a ton of misconceptions about Judaism, for example, “Jesus was Jewish” and not, “Jesus was an asshole of an apostate who made life harder for Jews at the time in a myriad of ways and whose movement has had a lasting negative impact on world Jewry (and other peoples) for the ensuing millenia”. I truly Don’t Have Time right now to get into the varied and intense history of antisemitism in all its forms but. the point I’m making here is that I’m not shocked I need to explain that life experience shapes your worldview?? So if you’re Jewish you’re always gonna be living life through that version of the world and it does impact you?? Same as anything else?? As unwell as they may be, spn writers aren’t exempt from that. Jewish people writing about xtianity are doing so thru a primarily Jewish understanding and vice versa. Jews can (and did!) write about xtian lore but in a Jewish way! Some core Jewish themes: wrestling with angels/G-d, questioning G-d, IF there’s a G-d they will have to beg MY forgiveness, the afterlife isn’t really a big thing so all that matters is your time on earth, make amends to others directly and thru your actions rather than seeking absolution with G-d, you are not obligated to complete the work nor may you abandon it, etc… So that’s the other reasoning why we say “spn is Jewish” based solely on it being written by Jews. Rather than Death of The Author, let’s look at what the author has imbued the story with, both intentionally and unintentionally. And re: Chuck and idolatry… I don’t even know where to start with the way you phrased this but. the Jewish Spn Writers of Note are apparently Kripke, Gamble, and Edlund. All of whom stopped writing for the show years before the Chuck Is God plot! 

Like yes it feels very stupid to be writing a thousand words on antisemitism and supernatural but like. this is a spn blog run by a Jew so. This whole thing is also just the same every time. This is very representative of typical casual antisemitism.

#asks #no readmore we die like men (gender neutral) #sorry its so long alma #jupernatural #anonymous #scream maybe i should add a readmore.. maybe in the morning

[danniburgh]

Rushingly Bittersweet (Javier Peña x f!reader) part 24

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc//f!reader with name.

Summary: After the fall of Escobar everything starts happening way too fast for Javier; his raise, his new office, his new team, the Cali cartel’s operation, the sudden arrival of a new agent that was transferred to his team for no apparent reason, the way he was falling in love with her almost unintentionally.

And he couldn’t seem to stop any of that.

Word count: +4.3k

Chapter warnings: feels, a lot of fucking feels

A/N: This chapter is set after season three. // SECOND TO LAST CHAPTER BITCHES (of the main story at least lol) this one was quite difficult for me, idk, DIALOGUE HEAVY so beware, i wanna thank @mouthymandalorian because she read half of this and gripped my shoulders, slapped me and told me it had substance, and @purplepascal042 ​ bc she just makes me feel so sure of myself and this shitshow lmao and she gave us Carlos, i love you guys so much

ao3 // fic index // Masterlist // fic playlist

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓 let me know if you wanna be tagged

←previous // next→

gif: @pescopadral

Home.

He smelled like home.

“You stopped smoking?” you mumbled against his shoulder when you didn’t find traces of smoke on his shirt, Javier scoffed and gripped you tighter against him.

“Kinda.”

“Good, horrible habit.” you teased him and for the first time in five months, you heard him chuckle.

You let out a sigh and closed your eyes when his hands started roaming slowly through your back.

It was like you two never actually stopped hugging; you were marveled by the feeling of his hands in your body; they belonged there; it was as if his touch was meant only for you. He gripped and caressed you as if his hands had gone through a touch withdrawal. He fit there. You fit there.

“How long have we been hugging?” you teased and Javier scoffed again, a little harder, the warm air he let out clashing with the skin of your neck, it made you shiver and you smiled.

“Don’t know but don’t stop.” he replied softly, and you felt your smile growing, you opened your eyes and saw the way his body was curled against yours, almost wrapping it.

You turned your eyes to the dark sky and sighed again at the sight of the stars; they looked so close and so bright you were sure, in that moment, with him gripping you and anchoring you to the earth you had been walking alone for so long, you could reach them.

“I missed you.” you let out, your voice small, your tone warm, it made him smile.

“Yeah.” he moved his arms and stepped back from the embrace to look at you, his hands slid from your back to your waist and the hand that wasn’t holding the letter back to your face.

“Hi.” you whispered, the muscles of cheeks started to sting because of the smile you were holding.

“Hi.” Javier replied. 

Your wandering hands moved from his shoulders to his arms, and then you cupped his face. He leaned into your touch as you studied his face and re-learned the features you had committed to memory, for later use or later torture, your brain struggling to grasp the fact that he was there, right in front of you; but he was, you were making sure of it as your fingers touched every single inch of his skin, Javier closed his eyes and sighed when the pads of your fingers slid through his forehead and slowly made their way to his mid brow, the perpetual frown you had met him wearing had disappeared.

“Open your eyes.” you whispered to him and he did without questioning, looking at you; there were the remnants of some unshed tears from earlier, but they were the same you had seen in between dreams, they were the same eyes you had craved for when you couldn’t hold yourself whole, when you couldn’t stand up straight, when you felt like your pieces weren’t being glued properly; and they were on you.

“What are you looking at?” he whispered his question as he moved his face closer to you. You smiled at him again as if you had stopped smiling at all, and you remembered that self-doubt that crept inside you all those months before when you wanted nothing more but to have him look at you like he loved you; your smile faded when you realized he was looking at you differently.

It wasn’t the same look he used to give you when he woke you up after spending the night together; it wasn’t the same way he looked at you across the office bullpen at the embassy in Bogotá; it wasn’t the same look you used to get when you said some horrible joke or a funny remark or a teasing comment or a snarky toned word.

But it wasn’t hard. His eyes were looking at you deeply, but you didn’t know what it meant.

“You.” you whispered your reply, and he smiled at you.

“Good.” he said and brought your face to his.

Javier’s lips took yours and he let out a sigh when he felt you kissing him back.

It was as if he never stopped kissing you.

He knew your movements; he knew you loved when his tongue brushed your lower lip, and how you sighed every time he opened his mouth slightly and took your lip again between his.

Every single thing fit; you there, standing in front of him; you there, in his arms; your lips between his lips, your hands touching his skin.

It felt right. It was right.

It was giving him everything he kept longing for when he listened to that tape with your voice; it was giving him the life he thought he wouldn't have anymore, the one he knew he didn’t even deserve.

Javier gripped you tighter against his chest and deepened the kiss. You let out a soft moan and he wanted to smirk; he still had the same effect over you as you had over him.

How could he have gone through life without your kisses? without your touch? without your essence lingering close to him?

With you there, it felt like there was no time in Javier’s life where you weren’t present in some way.

You just crept inside his body and his heart and his mind and you stayed there.

“Let’s get inside.” he muttered against your mouth, you breathed in deeply as he stepped away from you and grabbed your hand.

“Are you sure?” you said, looking at him. Javier frowned.

“Yeah, I just asked you to stay.” he tugged at your hand and pulled you softly towards the house.

You bit your lip and followed him to the house. There was a feeling nagging at your chest you recognized as that self-doubt that you thought you had left inside the glove box of your car and you tried to breathe it away.

The door was still open, and you took then a moment to look around; having been busy crying the first time you walked inside; immediately to the left there was a big archway that led to a dining room that looked simple and comically unused, stiff and almost out of character; straight to the front there was that archway you had seen Chucho disappear into the kitchen and the living room was fairly big; mostly occupied by a dark couch that looked more loved that any other piece of furniture there with a wood, cluttered console table almost protecting the back and two red armchairs on the sides, a sharp-edged coffee table between them that held a few wood figurines on the surface and a big fireplace that filled the opposite on wall; and the free spaces on the walls were filled with pictures and framed newspaper clips with both Chucho and Javier, some of them were in spanish; there were books resting on almost every surface: the fireplace mantelpiece, a cornered bookshelf behind a lamp, an end table next to one of the armchairs.

On the wall above the fireplace there was a mounted alligator gar fish you actually stopped to look at.

“What?” Javier turned to look at you, following your gaze and standing up straighter.

“Did your dad–‌”

“Yeah,” he cut you off. You looked at him and saw him with his proud smirk adorning his face “Carlos has been here since I was a kid,” he explained and you snorted “what?”

“His name is Carlos?” you asked between a tight laugh that helped ease you in, he nodded a few times, enjoying the sound of your laugh so close to him instead of in his mind “you named him, right?” Javier smiled and shook his head.

“My mom did.” he replied. Your laughter stopped, and you scrunched up your nose.

“Sorry.” you muttered almost cautiously. Which he noticed.

“Don’t do that.” he stepped close to you.

“Do what?” you asked him, widening your eyes as if he had caught you stealing Carlos.

“Loosen up,” his hand slid from your hand up your arm and rested on your shoulder, he squeezed it softly and kneaded the flesh a few times “you’re not with a stranger.”

“But you are.” you replied in a whisper before you could stop yourself, Javier licked his lower lip and cupped your face with both hands, leaning to leave a soft kiss on your mouth.

“Am I?” he turned around and kept guiding you through the house. 

You frowned at his response. Did he forget? It was as if the hug you had shared a few minutes before had made him forget the entirety of the time you didn’t even talk and you started feeling anxious about it. You didn’t like not knowing, and even when he turned left into a hallway which was filled with more framed pictures of him and his dad and some older pictures of him with more people; you felt the urge to ask him if there was something else hidden behind that smile you loved, but you weren’t expecting to receive.

You crossed the threshold of a room you immediately recognized as his; it smelled like him; the bed was poorly made and there was a thick brown book resting on top of the left pillow.

“You sleep here,” he said. You looked at the bed and turned to him “I’ll take the couch.”

“Are you crazy?” you shook your head “this is your room, I can sleep on the couch I don’t care.”

Javier stood there for a moment, not looking at you, he sighed heavily and walked to sit on the edge of the bed, dropping the letter on the nightstand.

“What the fuck are we doing?” he mumbled, leaning to rest his arms on his knees and his face on one hand.

“What do you mean?” you stood where he left you and fidgeted with your unoccupied hands.

“We’re dancing ‘round each other,” he scoffed, shaking his head, “why?” he asked as he turned his head to gaze at you.

You didn’t move but took his eyes in and the way he was looking at you that was hauntingly different from the ones you were used to get from him.

“I don’t know,” you sighed out, dropping your eyes to the carpeted floor as you tried to analyze your own feelings “I feel like…” you started and saw him out of the corner of your eye shift on the bed towards you “I don’t deserve this, y’know?” your eyes were stuck to the fibers of the carpet and you felt his brown gaze on your body as you tried to put the mess of feelings that was churning inside your gut into words “I don’t know why you’re taking me in, why do you want me to stay?”

Javier saw you lift your face to him and he sighed when he saw your eyes filled with tears again, he stood from the bed and all but strode to you, his hands immediately found their home on your waist and he shivered at the way you sighed when you felt him close to you.

“You forgot what I did to you?” you asked, your eyes on him and Javier felt your eyes staring deeply inside him.

“No,” he replied “but you’re here, you’re here when I thought I’d never see you again,” he shrugged slightly and you shook your head “and we can work all this out.” he let out on a breath.

“Work this out?” you questioned in a whisper, Javier nodded “we haven’t seen each other in five months, wha–‌what does work this out mean?”

Javier gulped and realized he didn't know exactly what it meant.

And you were there, having doubts about the whole ordeal already.

“You don’t know, do you?” you asked him as your hands slid up to his chest and he shook his head no twice.

“Look,” he whispered out, trying to get you closer to him “I’ve been trying to process everything, and…” he pursed his lips trying to find the words inside his head, “and I realized none of it matters to me anymore.” he muttered.

You looked at him hesitantly, Javier recognized the insecure look in your eyes from earlier and from the last days you two had shared in Bogotá.

He hated that you weren’t saying anything; he despised not knowing what you were thinking because your face wasn’t giving him any hints; it was blank, and there were just jots and iotas of what looked like random emotions to him. He wanted to ask, but he knew you had to think about everything as well.

The silence was warm and heavy with anticipation and doubt, and he wanted nothing else but to light up a cigarette and cover it with nicotine smoke.

He was holding your body; his hands resting on your waist as his thumbs smeared the fabric of your shirt around your skin. You were there, but you weren’t.

“Where did you go?” he asked, his deep timber low and intrigued.

You doubted a bit, biting your lip as you formed your abstracts into shapes inside your head, he looked so sure of everything; he looked at you like you were the one that hung the bright stars on the dark sky you were wishing to grasp minutes earlier, and you felt it wrong.

“It doesn’t make sense,” you mumbled out, to nothing and to the heavy silence and to yourself, Javier narrowed his eyes “I hurt you,” you said, nodding once, as if emphasizing it “I lied to you,” you nodded again and Javier mimicked the action “I hid things from you bu–‌but I’m here, for some reason?” you shrug your shoulders in confusion and Javier huffed, frustrated.

Javier wasn’t sure of what the future looked like for either of you, but he understood that doubt you were letting out, he had felt it for a long time and he wanted to get rid of it; he remembered your earlier words of seeking closure, and he imagined how confusing it must be.

He wanted to show you how much you were wanted, but knowing you, he had to say it out loud.

“Let’s talk,” he muttered “we’re not talking, and we need to,” you blinked a few times while his words sank into you, you nodded and let him guide you to the bed, he gestured for you to sit and he sat next to you on the mattress “but first I need you to stop walking on eggshells.”

“I’m not walking on eggshells.” you furrowed your brow.

“Yes you are,” he whispered, leaning his face to you “you're hesitating, where is that woman that called out my shit as she saw it?”

You dropped your eyes to the floor and felt them fill with tears, Javier pinched your chin lightly and moved your head for you to see him.

“I have no idea where she is, Javi,” you muttered as two tears escaped from your eyes, he brushed them off with his other hand, “I think she left, or maybe she never existed,” you sniffed “I have no idea who I am.”

Javier looked into your watery eyes and, as more tears slid through your cheeks, he understood another nuance of you, the weight of what the two of you had lived, together and on your own, not only harmed him. It harmed you too in more than one way; and he had been blinded by his own pain that he just didn’t think about yours.

“Let me tell you who you are,” he said “you are a smart woman, that fears nothing and if she does she doesn’t let anyone know it,” his hands cupped your face as more tears fell “you are funny,” the corner of his mouth lifted and you scoffed “and you’re beautiful in a way I don’t understand,” his thumb started drawing small circles on the skin of your cheek “you put up with me and I don’t know how, I’m the most difficult bastard I know,” he let out a soft chuckle and you smiled at him “you are restless and brave…”

“I’m not.” you shook your head, Javier brushed your lips closed with a thumb.

“Strong and driven, so damn stubborn you just refuse to look at what I’m doing.” he let out.

“What?” you frowned again in confusion and Javier smiled softly at you.

“I hugged you,” he muttered and mimicked the nodding of his head you directed to him before “I kissed you, I escorted you personally to my room and you still think I don’t want you here.”

“I don’t deserve it.” you whispered against his thumb.

Javier looked at you and tried to dig up with his gaze the feeling that was keeping you from being that woman he had fallen in love with; your tear-filled eyes that looked at everything and at nothing at the same time, your trembling lower lip, your hushed voice tone that was so different and so far away from that tone you commanded and demanded respect with when he met you.

He found it ironic how much the tables had turned in so little time.

“You’re right,” he let out, dragging his thumb from your lips to your cheeks “we don’t deserve it,” he shook his head a few times “this?” he aimed his head around and sighed “it’s too good for both of us,” you nodded and rolled your eyes slightly, he was right, “but I think we’ve earned the right to be selfish, don’t you?”

His words sank inside you like a pebble on a calm lake and eased little by little that uncontrollable cyclone that were your emotions; how was he so right?

“Who are you and what did you do to Javier Peña?” you asked him, making him chuckle again.

“I’m me, baby,” he muttered, and you felt your breath hitch at the endearment “renewed and a bit patched up.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” you mumbled out, Javier took your head and made you look at him.

“I know, stop saying that, I know.” he sighed and leaned towards you, leaving another soft kiss on your lips.

“I think I’m gonna spend the rest of my time making it up to you.” you whispered against his lips and he smiled.

“The rest of it?” he teased. You bit your lip and nodded.

“Every minute.”

“You don’t have to,” he sat back and dropped his hands from your face, taking one of yours and gripping it tightly. His eyes fell to your intertwined fingers “just be here.”

“Javier,” you called out, and he looked at you “how do I know you won’t resent me for this?”

“You don’t,” he let out, you let out the air that was trapped in your lungs “I don’t either,” you saw him shrug and smirk at you “let’s just hope it doesn’t happen.”

“Fuck,” you chuckled out, he smiled at you and you sighed in relief “I love you.”

Javier’s face fell for the total amount to two seconds that felt like two hours when you saw his smile fade into a wide-eyed, surprised grin.

Your heart was beating at the rhythm of a racehorse’s gallop, but you didn’t take it back, you couldn’t, after showing him and after doing what you did, you couldn’t just erase it because it was true.

And saying it, to him, out loud, made your body feel as light as a falling leaf.

“Good to know,” he let out, his lips curving in a half open smile you had seen exactly once in all the time you knew him “because I love you too.”

As soon as he said it Javier took your hands and pulled you flush to his chest. A soft yelp escaped your mouth because of the force, and your arms instantly wrapped themselves around his shoulders. He hid his face inside the crook of your neck and you felt a shiver roam up and down your back when he inhaled you in.

“This’s nice.” his voice was muffled by your skin and the fabric of your shirt, you huffed.

“It is.” you whispered, laying your head on his shoulder and sighing again contentedly.

“Are you tired?” he asked without moving and you nodded “you wanna sleep?” he asked again and you nodded a second time.

“Will you sleep here?” you mumbled, closing your eyes as his essence and the warmth of his body mingled with yours and settled inside you.

“You want me to?”

“I’d love you to.”

Your phrase seemed to wake him up from the temporal slumber your embrace had put him into and he helped you stand up from the bed; he said nothing as he walked to his closet on the corner of the room, grabbed a white t-shirt and handed it to you.

“The bathroom is just getting out of the hallway, if you wanna change there,” he said with a slight shrug, and you let out a giggle, as if he didn’t know already every inch of your body “I’m serious.”

“I know you are.” you said, walking towards the black desk on the opposite corner of his room and leaving the t-shirt on the surface, taking off your shoes.

Javier rolled his eyes as he turned around and pulled down the bedsheets, he grabbed the book from the pillow to rest on his nightstand. He took the letter he had dropped there first and turned to find you taking off your jeans, already wearing his shirt.

You looked at him and gave him a soft smile as he walked towards the desk, opened one of the small drawers and tossed the letter inside.

“You should burn that.” you teased.

“Never.” he teased back, stealing another chuckle out of you. He walked around you towards his closet and started pulling off his clothes.

“I like that shirt.” you went to the bed and sat back on the edge. He looked down at the red fabric and then shook his head.

“‘S yours if you want it.”

“Mhm,” you hummed in feigned consideration “looks better on you,” he smiled as he slid the shirt off his shoulders, “you still sleep on the right side?” you asked, turning back to the bed, smiling as your eyes landed on his nightstand and recognized the book he was reading: Cien años de soledad… your copy.

“Yeah.”

“You stole my book.” you turned to him as he was finishing putting on pajama pants.

“What?”

“I lent you that book,” you pointed back at the nightstand with your thumb “you sneaky asshole,” you teased and he started laughing in silence, walking towards you “I’m gonna steal it back.”

Javier grabbed your hand from your lap and pulled you to stand up, his hands wrapped your waist as he stopped laughing and your hands landed on his naked chest.

“You were right, though,” he muttered, leaving a kiss on your cheek “I needed to read some fiction.”

“I still can’t believe you never read it.” you teased him, tracing his collarbone with your fingers.

Silence fell upon you again as he rested his lips on the skin of your cheekbone. But, as most things that day, it turned back into a comfortable, lighter silence that was miles and miles away from the ones you had shared in Colombia.

Everything there was so different than it was before but you knew, deep inside, that it wasn’t a bad turn; and it made you think that maybe, the time you two spent apart, as horrid, painful and rough as it was; was needed.

He couldn’t seem to bring himself to stop touching you, his hands had missed the texture of your skin and the warmth of your body, Javier moved his hands only to let you lay down on the bed next to him, he turned off the lights and almost immediately, brought you back to him, your chest resting on his side, your head resting on his chest, the skin on skin contact was doing wonders to him and he knew he wouldn’t need anything else as long as you gave him permission to touch you.

“They offered me México.” he mumbled out, breaking the tranquil, dark silence you were snuggling under as his hand rested on your rib side.

“What?” you asked, turning your head on his chest to face him.

“After Cali, when I resigned, they offered me México.” he said, you frowned.

“That’s ironic.”

“Yeah.”

“You would’ve hated it.” you said, your fingers tracing shapeless figures on his skin.

“Why?”

“They made it a hellhole.” you shrugged slightly and his chest rose with the deep breath he took.

“Would’ya ever tell me ‘bout your time there?” he asked softly, bringing you closer to him.

“Yeah, at some point,” he hummed in response, “your dad called me Florecita.”

“Uhm, yeah.” he let out.

“Why? you didn’t tell him my name?” you asked him softly.

“I did… but the nickname kinda stuck.” he huffed. You squinted to study his features in the dark and saw him smirk.

“You called me that, right? when you talked to him?” you questioned teasingly “is that the nickname you gave me?” he nodded, and you rolled your eyes.

“You don’t like it?” he teased back.

“I mean…” you hesitated, knowing he’d tease you “I kinda do,” he laughed, and you slapped his pectoral softly “shut up.” you hid your face in his chest.

“Ay, mi florecita.” (my little flower)

“Don’t call me that.” you said in fake chastisement and he kissed the crown of your head.

He chuckled and the soft movement of his chest and the sound of his silent breathing lulled you to sleep. 

For the first time in months, you fell asleep with ease.

That night Javier slept better than he had in ten years.

←previous // next→

*ABOUT CARLOS*

pedrito's perma list: @queenofthefaceless ​ @northernpunk ​ @pascalesque ​ @sleep-tight1 @cheekygeek05 ​ @bii-aan-ckaa ​ @letaliabane ​ @starlightmornings ​ @mouthymandalorianalso ​ @supernaturalgirl ​ @metalarmsandmanbuns ​ @purplepascal042 ​ @asta-lily ​ @greeneyedblondie44 ​ @missswriter ​ @juletheghoul ​ @pedro-pastel ​ @agirllovespancakes ​

Javi's babies: @pulplorrd ​

RushBit tag list: @shestillwrites-blog ​ @absurdthirst ​ @alliterative-albatross ​ @thoughtfulpandawasteland @wifeofdindjarin ​ @lank-sextburg @the-ginger-hedge-witch ​ @helloannbananalove @diogodxlot ​ @pascalslittlebrat ​ @sarahjkl82-blog ​ @pedritobalmando ​ @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @mamacitapascal ​ @dobbyjen @callsigncatfish ​ @feminist-violinist ​ @jasmincita @pascalove ​ @eury-dice3 @gingaahhhh @athalien ​ @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics ​

#javier peña #Javier Pena #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fanfic #narcos #narcos fanfic #narcos netflix #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #Jose Pedro Balmaceda Pascal #pedro pascal characters #rushingly bittersweet tag

[burneddownthegym]

When do you think Buffy and Spike started developing feelings for each other? I think for Spike it started in season 2 which has been kind of confirmed by Dru, but what about Buffy? Their relationship seemed to change after Spike let Glory torture him to protect Dawn, but I like to believe Buffy had unregistered feelings for Spike way earlier. I don’t know what’s true though. She let him live many times when she shouldn’t and that could just be the writers wanting to keep Spike but it could also be read as Buffy not wanting to kill him for some reason. If I were Buffy I would have at least been attracted to him from the start but I’m not Buffy. What do you think?

oh god. i started writing this and it just got more and more unhinged until i was left with a novel. but here’s my headcanon under the cut.

i think for spike it started in season 2, yeah. kind of immediately. i mean in his second episode he already has like ten tv’s mounted on the ceiling to obsessively watch buffy fight? ok weirdo. obviously the writers weren’t planning on spuffy at the time but it all fits with the dru retcon in “fool for love”. i think any feelings he had were super repressed in him for a while though, and were probably closer to obsession than anything (where does one draw the line between obsession and love? much to think about!!). tbh, and maybe this is controversial, i kind of think it’s not until “intervention” that he really understands just how in love with her he is, or what it really means to be in love with her. he definitely thinks he’s in love, he has a raging, identity-crisis crush, but i don’t know, something just feels different after that episode. i feel like it’s when his feelings for buffy really become less about him and more about her. like, less about having her or wanting her to recognize him, and more about wanting to be what she actually needs. less about *loving* buffy and more about loving *buffy*, maybe. so even though his feelings before then are real, they feel real in a different way to me after “intervention”.

buffy is harder. personally, i don’t think she was ever consciously attracted to spike until maybe s5. (buffy being immediately attracted to him in fic is actually a huge pet peeve for me; it doesn’t feel in character at all and can even make me stop reading). i think there was latent attraction, but spike was just so far outside the bounds of who she thought she would be attracted to that it doesn’t register that way (reason #34095 spuffy is a lesbian ship, obv. also it’s why her being attracted to him immediately can turn me off in fic, bc it makes the relationship feel less gay, and that’s kind of important to me). i think she finds him tacky and annoying and lame and just not a sexual object. he’s a soulless vampire and you don’t sexualize those. and so anything sexual she felt toward him she dismissed the way you might dismiss a weird sex dream about someone you’d never want in real life (jane espenson apparently had notes on her desk pre-s5 saying buffy had sex dreams about him, which i totally buy, especially after “something blue”). i think one of the reasons she freaks out so bad in “crush” is that suddenly spike isn’t in the non-sexualizable category anymore. like, what, vampires and slayers are sexualizing each other now? like in real life not just innuendo? you broke the rules, what am i supposed to do now? it’s why she’s so weirded out when he tries to kiss her in “fool for love” and goes on about how people can’t love without a soul in “crush”. spike isn’t fitting his sexual category and she doesn’t know how to deal with it so she tries to stuff him back in. long story short, i think it’s only after “crush” that she actually consciously thinks about his attractiveness, because before then he just wasn’t someone on the table for her to think about that way.

(oh i should also add—i think spike’s “crush” moment with buffy is “who are you?” when faith comes onto him. because it was sort of a similar thing for him. even though he was attracted to buffy before that episode, it was something he repressed or treated as kind of a game. innuendo and eroticism as a battle tactic but not something you’d actually follow through on in real life. but he thinks buffy breaks the rules in “who are you?” and suddenly makes herself real-life sexualizable. so i think his attraction becomes more conscious after that, even if he’s still trying to act like it’s something that disgusts him, like buffy post-“crush”.)

(also, this is why it’s so easy to read violence and murder as sublimated desire in a gay way with spuffy. it’s not really about murder and violence. it’s about them expressing romantic/erotic desire within the bounds of what their roles allow, because they can’t conceive of each other in other roles.)

but i do think buffy did still have some sort of draw to spike before s5. i feel like instinctually she saw him as more of a person than other vampires pretty early. definitely not consciously, and definitely wasn’t love. but she talks to him like he’s a really annoying guy more than she talks to him like some sort of mindless enemy. she doesn’t bother telling other soulless vampires that she violently dislikes them, or mock them about their breakups. i think the only other soulless vampires she sort of treats that way are harmony and holden in cwdp, which makes sense since both of those are vampires she knew before they were vamped. she didn’t kill harmony either, and wasn’t excited about having to kill holden. but spike is the only “stranger” vampire she sees that way, and i think that’s interesting! i think a lot of her conflict over him is due to this too, tbh. he instinctually feels like both a person and not-a-person to her, and that’s hard for her to process.

i have zero canon to back this up, but i think the first time buffy kind of sort of falls in love with spike is in “the gift”, when he says he’d protect dawn until the end of the world. i mainly think this because i don’t think it can be understated how important dawn is to buffy, or how telling it is that she kisses spike in “intervention”. other people have said this, but she just doesn’t kiss people every time they do something nice for her. i don’t think she would have done that unless she felt some sort of latent *something* for him, and unless he’d done something that really deeply affected her. him being willing to sacrifice himself for dawn’s sake, or protect her above all, affects buffy first: because of how self-sacrificing she is. she’s always the one who has to die or put herself on the line for other people. and second: she’s the only one who cares about dawn the way she does. no one else goes into a coma or threatens giles or vows to protect her until the end of the world…except spike.

so the fact that spike would understand the self-sacrificial and protecting-dawn parts of her, or help her with them in the same unthinkingly committed way, when no one else is, i think hits her where she lives. he understands and is not just supporting, but *embodying* this hugely important thing to her at the time when it counts the most. so she falls a bit in love with him. maybe just a second, or a minute, and then she ignores it and saves the world. but that’s the first time it happens.

then as far as s6 goes, i pretty much take buffy at her word when she says she has feelings for him, but that they’re not love. i think she has really intense and confusing emotions around him and for him, but they just don’t cohere into something that could be called something clear-cut like love. and that’s sort of the tragedy of that season? it has all the potential and intensity and chemistry for love, but she doesn’t like or trust herself and she doesn’t trust him, and he isn’t in a place where he can understand the guilt and self-hate she’s going through, or be moral without her guidance, and so in a lot of ways her lack of trust really is justified. so it just can’t quite reach the realness of love, where you want and want to care for the other person’s whole self. but (adding this edit based on a comment by marinxttes!), i totally agree that a lot of her breakup with spike is about her feeling enough for him that it doesn’t feel right to use him anymore. i think that’s the decisive moment when she stops being confused about whether he is or isn’t a person (and whether *she* is or isn’t), and decides he is one. maybe not one she thinks she can love yet, but one she genuinely cares about doing right by, and that’s a huge shift.

i believe her in s7 too when dawn asks if she loves him and she says she feels for him. i don’t know when exactly that whole mess starts cohering into something that really is love for buffy, but i feel like it’s happening the whole season. like air condensing into water. all the pieces have been there, amorphously, for a long time, and finally they’re allowed to take form. so when she says “i love you” in “chosen”, it’s at once something new, and also something that’s been there all along.

#ship: spuffy #do i have evidence to back up 90% of this? no #am i going to post it anyway? absolutely

[kaylaxwrites]

Bar Fight

Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader Words: 2.1k Request: “Idk if you are up for it but if you are, a request: Frank Castle x reader where he has to stitch her up after she gets into a fight with a guy at the bar who was hitting on her and touched her inappropriately, Frank being both mad at her for putting herself in danger and fighting a bigger guy and also being impressed at how baddass she is because he didnt expect her to get into a fight” (anon) A/N: god I wish I could write smut bc this got real close folks. and this accidentally skipped the two requests above this, but I’m finishing up Punisher season 2, so I have a little bit more inspo for Frank

Warnings: reader gets groped nonconsensually by a stranger, reader gets called a bitch (but I don’t think I used anything worse), lots of cursing, but I mean, it’s a punisher fic

You sipped at your drink as you sat at the bar, fiddling idly with the straw your drink was served with, waiting for Frank to show up. It was your weekly date—between your job and Frank’s…whatever he did, it was hard to find the time to spend with one another. But Frank was running late. And you were getting annoyed.

As you debated sending Frank a text, a man slid against the bar next to you, despite the numerous empty seats on either side of you. You rolled your eyes. You didn’t feel like dealing with whatever bullshit this was about to bring. You tried your best to ignore him, but looks like he was going to make that impossible.

“Hey there,” he said, ducking his head down to try and get in your line of sight.

“Hi,” you deadpanned. You glanced around the room, hoping Frank had arrived without you noticing.

“What’s your name, gorgeous? I’m Aaron.”

You finished the last of your drink in one quick gulp. “Does it matter?”

“Just making conversation, baby, what’s the big deal?”

You swiveled in your chair to face him. “The deal is I’m clearly not interested. Now fuck off and go bother someone else.”

“Don’t be like that, baby,” he said as he slid his hand down your back to grope at your ass and hip. You ducked your head down and grimaced. Looks like it was gonna take more than a verbal no to get rid of this guy. Fuck. You rolled your head back up to look at the man, a fake smile plastered on your face. From his answering smirk, he fell for it.

You slid down from your seat and swung your jacket over your shoulders, tossing a handful of dollar bills on the counter to cover your tab. “Let’s take this outside, handsome,” you said, brushing past him and heading for the door. The instant your face was out of his sight, your smiled dropped and you rolled your eyes as he trailed after you. You could practically feel his gaze on the swing of your hips as you walked.

Pushing the door open, you breathed in the crisp fall air as you stepped outside, thankful for the easy breeze that cooled your skin and settled your mind. You were already wound up from the workday you just had and this definitely wasn’t how you wanted to finish out your evening. You just wanted to be with Frank and not have to worry about anything other than you and him.

As you walked around the corner of the building to the alleyway, you briefly went over the self-defense moves Frank had taught you in the past year or so you’d known him. With the practice from all the drills he made you run, you were confident you could take this guy—at least enough to shake some decency into his head and to send him running with his tail tucked between his legs.

You allowed the man to cage you in against the wall, a hand on either side of your head. You fought down your gag reflex as his smoke-coated breath fanned over your face. “You gave in pretty quick,” he said. “The chase is half the fun.” He leaned in closer to you, widening his stance. You grinned to yourself at the opportunity the movement presented.

“Harass all your girls like that?” you asked. A confused raise of an eyebrow was all he had time for before you were moving.

In one quick exhale, you brought your knee up into the man’s groin. As he doubled over, you slammed your elbow into the side of his head. You took a few steps away to give yourself distance and prepare for you next move, but he recovered faster than you thought he would. Within a few seconds, he was on you, wrapping you in a bear hug from behind. This was the most recent move you learned from Frank, but you had no time to hesitate. You dropped your center of gravity and rolled forward, flipping the taller man over your shoulder. You scrambled to your feet, but a sharp pain at your calf nearly brought you to your knees. You glanced down and the deep red on your pant leg nearly made you nauseous.

The fucker had a knife and he sliced your leg open. And these were your favorite pair of pants!

Before you could let your anger and adrenaline consume you and make you attempt to beat the man within an inch of his life (keyword: attempt), he let out a squeal. You glanced over. A boot was pressed none-too-gently into his wrist—you could almost hear the bone snap. You followed the leg up until you met Frank’s eyes.

You breathed a sigh of relief.

Frank slid his attention back to the man at his feet. Aaron was frantically trying to pry Frank’s boot off of his arm, but Frank was immovable. “The hell is going on here?” he asked, looking to you for answers.

Before you could answer, Aaron started stammering out an answer. “She—she started it, man! I was just—I was just defending myself!”

“That right?” Frank’s eyes turned to yours once more.

“More or less,” you shrugged, more focused on the gash on your leg. Maybe you had started the altercation, but… “Asshole groped me at the bar. Thought I knew enough to teach him some manners.”

“Yeah? We’ll talk about that later,” he said, pointing to you before returning his attention to the man at his feet. “You out here assaulting women?”

“It’s not like that, man! C’mon, get off me!” Aaron cried, struggling to pull his arm free.

Frank knelt to get closer to the man’s face, never easing the pressure on his wrist. “Calling my girl a liar, then?”

“Goddamn bitch led me on!” Aaron shouted.

“I was minding my own goddamn business!” you shouted back, plopping yourself onto the ground and pressing your hand against your still-bleeding wound.

“See?” Frank said, leaning even closer to the man pinned on the ground. “I think I believe her over you.” He pressed harder into the man’s arm, pressing until you could hear it snap from several feet away. You almost winced in sympathy.

“I didn’t know she was yours!” Aaron screamed as his forearm snapped clean in two.

“Doesn’t fucking matter.”

The next few moments were a blur. You kept your eyes on your leg, trying to ignore the constant sound of Frank’s fist pounding into flesh. Sure, maybe you started the fight, but you hated watching Frank finish them. After several minutes, you called out his name.

“Frank,” you said, softly at first. Then louder. “Frank. Frank!” On the third call of his name, he paused. He didn’t look at you, but you knew he was listening. “Piece of shit’s not worth it.” He moved to swing another punch, but you called out again, “He’s not worth it. Frank, please. I just want to go home.”

With a huff, Frank rose from his knees. He gave one last kick to Aaron’s ribs before turning to you. You took his outstretched hands and he pulled you to your feet. You wobbled for a moment, but Frank was there to steady you. He pulled your arm over his shoulder and grabbed you around the waist. Half carrying you, he helped you limp home.

The stairs to your apartment turned out to be one hurdle you couldn’t clear. After gasping and whimpering your way up a handful of stairs, Frank had had enough and pulled you into his arms, carrying you up the remaining flights.

Once in your apartment, Frank sat you gently on the bathroom counter before ducking down to grab the first aid kit from the cabinet underneath you. He sat on the closed toilet seat and pulled your injured leg across his lap. You winced as he pulled your pant leg up and over your wound. He poured medical-grade alcohol onto a gauze pad and began cleaning the skin around the gash. “What, no scotch to pour over my open wound dramatically?” you tried to joke. You’d seen Frank stitch himself up dozens of times now and not once did he ever use the actual alcohol meant for cleaning wounds.

Frank just glanced up at you before returning to the task at hand. “It’s gonna need stitches,” he said.

“Shit, really?” You leaned down to take a closer look. Surely it couldn’t be that bad, right? But the sight nearly turned your stomach and you leaned back, closing your eyes. “Yeah, okay.” You tried to psych yourself up. It couldn’t be that bad, right? Frank did it all the time without flinching, you could handle it, right?

Frank gave no warning before sliding the needle through your skin. “Fucking shit,” you cried out, clutching the edge of the sink so hard you thought it might break. The other seven stitches were a similar stream of curses. At one point, Frank had to hook his elbow around your ankle to keep you from kicking out. He scolded you for squirming, but you didn’t really register the words.

You breathed heavily when it was over, panting against the wall. Frank carefully wrapped gauze around your calf and tapped your knee when he was finished. He slid you to the edge of the counter to make enough room for him to wash his hands in the sink. “How…do you do that?” you asked him.

“Years of practice,” he deadpanned.

He packed up the first aid kit wordlessly, not once looking at you. When he was finished, he just stared blankly into the sink, thoughts churning in his head. His anger radiated off him in waves. You were the first to break under the oppressive silence. “Frank?” you asked hesitantly.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he exploded after a heavy inhale. “Huh, Y/N? What made you think you could go up against a man twice your size?”

“I was thinking I had a great teacher—”

“For self-defense! Not to go after the first guy you see!”

“He fucking groped me, Frank! What, I’m supposed to let that slide by? Ignore him until he finds some other girl to harass, to assault?”

“That’s not what I’m saying—”

You let out a dry laugh. “Then what are you saying, huh?”

“You call me. You call me and I handle it.”

“I don’t need some knight in shining armor to come and rescue me!” you shouted, leaning into his personal space.

Just as quick, he was right back in your face, pushing himself between your thighs to be that much closer. “And I don’t need you throwing yourself into harm’s way!”

You stared into each other’s eyes, chests heaving. Like a coil snapping back into place, his lips were on yours. Your head ricocheted off the mirror behind you, but you barely felt it. Your arms were looping around his neck, ankles hooking over his hips, pulling him closer, closer. But it wasn’t close enough.

His hands roamed over every inch of skin he could touch. Starting by rubbing his thumbs softly over your cheekbones, sliding down your neck, palms brushing over your collarbones. Easing over your shoulders and down your arms next, gripping protectively at your waist, massaging at your hips. Grazing over your thighs, down your calf—one misplaced press against your newly stitched wound had you gasping and pulling away.

Frank instinctually moved to step away from you, but you grasped at the collar of his shirt to keep him in place. You leaned your forehead against his, using the time to catch your breath. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—” Frank started quietly.

“I’m fine,” you whispered in response. “Just caught me off guard, that’s all.”

Frank settled back between your thighs, leaning his weight against the bathroom counter you were still sat upon. He took a minute to let his eyes roam over your face before you spoke. “You’re pretty great, you know that?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Watching you toss that man over your shoulder like he was nothin’… Sexiest goddamn thing I’ve seen.”

You laughed, throwing your head back. “Well, I did learn from the sexiest man alive. Think if I petitioned to get you on the cover of People’s Magazine it would blow your cover?” He laughed, shaking his head. “Just a bit?”

“Let’s get you to bed,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“So you can ravage me, Mr. Castle?”

Frank pulled you to the edge of the bathroom counter and wrapped an arm under your thighs, lifting you and carrying you to your bedroom. “We’ll see about that.”

#frank castle x reader #the punisher x reader #punisher x reader #the punisher imagine #frank castle imagine #mcu imagine #mine

[wannaliveattheholidayinn]

Ok, But Seriously, I Have Thoughts

I have... really mixed feelings about this episode, so I'm gonna talk about those feelings. And if my feelings about zep as a show and this season come out during that... so be it. (Seriously, this got long. I'd apologize, but I'm not sorry). Also spoilers for the new ep below the cut, but y'all should've been able to guess that

- I... Zimon seriously deserves just so much better. We saw them as a couple together for three episodes, and they honestly weren't explored enough. Zimon... and this is a very personal opinion, but they really do strike me as a couple who never fully leave the honeymoon phase... like ever. Like, of course, they'll fight and disagree on a lot of things, but they also can have adult children, and just kind of act like newlyweds even if they've been married for over twenty years. And again, I know that's a very personal opinion, but I mean... we all knew c/arkeman was gonna be endgame, and it just feels like zimon was never given an actual chance.

- However, I do very much appreciate that their breakup was not messy, there's still clearly a ton of respect for the other on both of their sides, and that Simon is okay.

- "We didn't belong together." No, you fucking did.

- I am not going to stop writing Zimon fanfic either. In fact, this might spur me to write more and work harder on writing Zimon fanfic.

- Rose. Fucking. Deserves. Better. I'm not even gonna elaborate on this one. We all know it.

- Despite the fact that I fucking hate c/arkeman and that it was very, very rushed... I'm giving acting and singing props to Jane. I Melt With You is a song that's extremely personal to me. It helped get me through a point in my life where... I was constantly feeling at war with others, myself, and even felt unsafe in my own home (something I still feel today, no matter how irrational I know it is). I just generally feel a strong connection to every version of the song bc of that, whether it's the original or the Bowling for Soup cover (that was in Sky High!), and... Jane just has a way of making me feel safe when she sings. So, I really, really loved her cover.

- Um... yeah, I'm gonna be real, I don't like the idea of Max having powers. I don't know, I just think it kinda changes the whole original concept of the show, and I'm not a big fan of that...

- Simon! Simon working on changing SPRQ Point!!!!

- I do not really like how they handled Simon's racial bias/systemic racism in coding storyline *after* episode six (aka it only really being mentioned in passing, not being further explored, etc.), but,,, credits due where it's due I guess? I like how they handled him going to Danny Michael Davis, and how DMD listened.

- Sidenote, I kinda find it weird we as a fandom don't refer to him as Danny... it's Danny Michael Davis, DMD, or fucking Willy Wonka jokes. Makes sense I guess.

- Um... the writing was just... so lazy. Yeah. It's... really sad, I think that the show would've benefitted from even one less ep. But on the other hand... lazy writing is lazy writing.

- I think it would've been better - honestly - if Zoey's feelings of loss hadn't been connected to Max in a romantic way, but in a platonic/familial way. We didn't see a ton of their friendship, and yeah,, I hate Max, but there are a few moments there where you can see a legitimate friendship that's really sweet. I also think if they had maybe explored Zoey's fear of losing Simon as well as Max and centered the finale more on Zoey telling Simon about her power, it would've just been a lot better.

- But... honestly, after I just aired out all my issues with this episode (and the season too kinda),,, I honestly liked it. I hate that Zimon broke up and I just generally hate cl*arkeman but... this ep had some really great moments. Zoey and Mitch were beautiful to see again. Mctobin, Davidemily, and Mo x Perry were all absolutely my favorite parts of the episode. Hell, I'll even admit I... well I don't wanna say laughed considering I was so close to crying, but I let out a weird, breathy noise resembling a laugh when Zoey just blurted out she and Simon had broken up.

I don't want to say it was a bad episode, because I did honestly, enjoy ~parts~ of it... but... it wasn't even that cl/arkeman happened, I knew it would, but how it did... it just honestly (my g.od i need to stop writing that word) seemed like they were trying to kill off or like... fucking quash *any* hope Zimon shippers may have had,,, and the writing was just so fucking lazy, I just...

I started the show after dance one night because my teacher showed us the Help! number bc he was an extra in it. And I had already been intrigued by the few ads I had seen for it. So, my mom and I watched it, and we loved it. So we kept watching. And it was good! It was really good! Sure it could be cheesy, but... that didn't matter. I latched on...

I don't know if, ZEP is gonna get renewed, and if it is, I don't know if I'll watch it if/when it does. I latch on to shows really fucking hard when I do latch on. It's why I keep rewatching The Good Place and why I'll never forgive Freeform/Disney/Marvel for canceling Cloak and Dagger. The way I latch onto things is probably a bit unhealthy. And the fact of the matter is, despite everything, my overwhelming feelings about ZEP are positive. And I latched on. I'd honestly do it all over again.

I have a lot of feelings about this fandom and this show, both positive and negative. Still, I love it. Unconditionally. Ultimately, I don't care if Zoey ends up with Max or Simon (though, seriously, she and Simon are made for each other). It's a good fucking show, ships shouldn't be everything that matters.

I began lurking in this fandom when I was fifteen. I began posting fanfic for it when I was sixteen. I'm almost seventeen now. I was planning to get Tumblr when I was seventeen. I also knew I wouldn't forgive myself if I hadn't made my presence here known if it didn't get renewed.

I want to thank @simon-haynes because, uh, holy fuck, I adore you. Running a blog for fandom is something I couldn't even fathom, especially when a large portion of the fandom doesn't like your ship. I legitimately can't believe you followed me.

Thank you to @jennakang. You are, honestly, one of the best writers I've ever read from. You were so incredibly supportive of my writing on ao3, despite the fact you didn't know who I was, and that really meant the world to me. Thank you so much for your contributions to the fandom. Also, uh, fun fact, I was the anon who, after you expressed the want to write the quarantined Zimon fic, sent in that ask that was like "please do!" and also "hope I'm not being pushy about this". I don't know if you remember that at all, but your response meant the world to me.

And uh, lastly @myheartissetinmotion. Um, wow. I know we barely know each other, but I can honestly say, you have been my anchor for this whole show. I love both your Tori content on TikTok as well as just zep content you do on there, and how you wrote her into zep on ao3. I personally like to think of you as the pioneer of Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist Tok. You were pretty unbiased when it came to ships on there, and that made me feel safe in a place where there were virtually no zimon shippers. Your content was funny, and I always found myself laughing or screaming "accurate" at it. I know, I'm the nuisance who every few months DMs you about something zep related, but I hope you know, you made me feel both seen and somewhat appreciated in this fandom. I cannot thank you enough, Isabella 💗

I know Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist may not be ending. But this still oddly feels like the end of an era. I'm not leaving the fandom, I plan to keep posting fanfic for it and everything. I just want everyone who may be reading this to know I love this fandom and I would not take any moment here back.

Also, this is me formally asking for a link to a Discord group chat since I know it exists but I'm too scared to actually ask any of you for it directly.

#zoey's extraordinary playlist #zep #zep spoilers #uh... #zep fandom #zep discourse i guess #zoey clarke #simon haynes #max richman #leif donnelly #tobin batra #mo zep #mckenzie zep #perry zep #david clarke #emily clarke #maggie clarke #mitch clarke #zoey x simon #zimon #mctobin #mo x perry #david x emily #anti zomax #jane levy

[itsclydebitches]

ngl voyager gets a whole lot of very disproportional hate from the fandom and i'd hazard a guess that a lot of that is just garden-variety misogyny (and probably racism mixed in, considering how many of the most prominent characters are women, poc, or both). like, is voyager perfect? absolutely not. and no spoilers but there was a lot of executive meddling that wound up leading to the finale/conclusion being lacking and there's a lot of reasonable dissatisfaction with that--but again that was largely thanks to the execs fucking the show over and i recommend looking into that if you can once you've finished the show. but overall? voyager is trek right to its very core--it has heart, it's about family, and it never loses sight of that imo, even if some episodes are weaker or just duds (but, like, would it be a trek series without some episodes that just kinda suck but are still fun to watch???)

anyway, i absolutely love that you're getting into voyager, it is my all-time favorite trek series to this day for a lot of reasons, and i hope that ppl like that anon dont put you off bc i'd love to continue to see your thoughts as you watch the series!

Oh, it would take a whole lot more than some anons being salty that others enjoy things to turn me off :D 

Thus far (I lost internet last night so I’m still only on Episode 7 of Season 2), Voyager is the Trekiest Trek I’ve watched. Which is a weird sentence, but I mean it in the way you said it’s “trek right to its very core.” What is Star Trek, if we strip the intent of the story down to its basics? It’s about exploration, discovery, that “wagon train to the stars,” wrapped up in the argument that life is fundamentally good. We have problems, but we can work past them. We have differences, but they strengthen us. Diversity is the lifeblood of the universe and the future will continue to improve so long as we embrace that. 

Voyager is (again, from what I’ve seen so far!) basically a love song to that premise. I didn’t do too deep a dive because I’m trying to avoid spoilers, but I did look at a couple threads discussing why Voyager is so hated. Again and again I saw the same reason pop up: wasted potential. Now, a lot of fans left it at that (as if the answer to what potential Voyager apparently missed out on is self-evident. It’s not), but those who did expand on the idea consistently claimed that the show needed to be darker than it was, even if they rarely said it like that. Why aren’t the Federation and the Marquis at each other’s throats? Why isn’t the crew going crazy under these circumstances? Why aren’t characters getting killed off left and right in hostile space? “Anything could have happened out there and they played it safe!” but the “anything” here is always... awful. There’s this very pervasive idea that the world is inherently cruel, people are inherently divisive, that when pushed to the brink everything will fall apart... and that (while making for one kind of great story) is very much not Star Trek. 

See, Voyager created an unimaginable scenario--lost in space, 75 years from home, forced to live indefinitely with strangers--and their answer to the question of “What happens?” is “People make it work.” They learn to respect one another, they uphold their ideals, they maintain a love of life and discovery, and they create a family. And that’s fucking fantastic. That’s Star Trek! I’m not going to pretend there aren’t problems with the show, with plenty more to come, I’m sure, but I don’t think this is one of them. Why do so many viewers think that hatred, horror, death, and growing jaded is the only potential here? Why would they expect that in a Star Trek show whose premise is the very antithesis of those things? 

“But they don’t do enough with those things, even if they have happy outcomes.” They do plenty, they just do it in an episodic rather than serialized nature. I can point to multiple episodes where the replicator rations or Maquis differences are driving the characters’ actions. “But without that horror there’s no conflict.” There’s plenty of conflict. Hostile aliens aside, I just watched an episode where Tuvok and Chakotay are pissed as hell at one another because they fundamentally disagree over how to handle problems, but--because they’re adults with a well-tested respect for one another--they apologize and work through it. “But the characters don’t develop at all.” You mean they don’t grow harder. That’s not the same thing as no development. Tuvok is figuring out how to be more flexible, Chakotay is becoming more willing to accept cultures he doesn’t agree with, Harry is growing more confident now that he’s far from home, the Doctor is learning to see himself as a person, Paris is grabbing his second chance with both hands by making strong ties, and Janeway is learning to command and care for her crew simultaneously. I honestly believe that a lot of people think of “character development” as the character becoming a fundamentally different person, unrecognizable from where they started out. But  characters can also grow into the people they wanted to be in the first place. “We’re far from home, in hostile territory, tempted to do horrific things to survive... but no. Right now at least, we’re holding onto who we are. We’re scientists, so we’re going to explore and learn. We’re peaceful, so we’re going to make friends with as many species as we can. We’re members of a society that teaches acceptance, so we’re going to form a family on this spaceship.” That’s incredible!! Did fans miss why Seska was an antagonist in the episode she was unmasked? Because she was trying to convince them to give up everything they believe in in the name of survival, an ends justify the means argument. And the crew said no, we will not give up what we believe in just to make it through. I legit saw a ton of fans saying some version of, “I can’t believe they were that far from home and actually followed Starfleet’s rulebook.” It’s because those rules don’t exist for the hell of it. Overlooking their practical function, they’re a philosophy that the characters believe in, and they’re figuring out how important that part of their identity is to them under these circumstances. Am I willing to steal a specie’s technology if it gets us home? Am I willing to die to help another uphold their own philosophy? (Chakotay in “Imitations”). What regulations should we bend or change to accommodate our new situation? The first two things Janeway does are a) giving the guy who just came out of a penal colony a rank and b) deciding that she needs to be more familiar with her crew than is normally encouraged for a captain because she’s essentially their mom now. Developing doesn’t have to mean characters do a 180 on their initial personality, or characters getting killed off when stuff gets “boring” so that others can do edgy things in response. 

Voyager upholds Trek’s premise and runs it to its logical conclusion: 

Voyager has the most literal trek--a trek back home. 

Voyager has the most diverse crew--a woman Captain, Native American First officer, black Vulcan, Asian-American communications officer, and a White Dude pilot that realizes he wants to be soft and kind towards those who took a chance on him because Toxic Masculinity who? 

Voyager has the most literal family--not just a 5+ year mission, but a crew who expects to raise the next generation. They have no choice but to work together, so they indeed come together rather than pulling apart

Except they do, of course, have a choice. In “The 37′s” the crew is allowed to stay on the Earth-like planet with a city of other humans and Janeway is convinced that a sizable number will choose that. After all, they may never get home and this is a safer, kinder future for them. In fact, the real question is whether so many will stay that they can no longer run the ship... but Janeway would never dictate her crew’s choices in that manner. So she swallows her worry down, opens the door... 

... and finds that not a single person decided to stay behind. And the show has ensured we understand that this is not just because they all have some unshakable belief that they’ll get home (many don’t), but because this is their family now. This is home. 

And fans want to toss that out for a generic, gritty, sci-fi adventure where hope is scarce, the universe is cruel, and people need to be pushed to the limit just to admit that they maybe, sort of, like each other?? Obviously like what you like, but that’s a hard pass for me. I’ll take the bridge crew comforting each other in “Twisted,” thanks. Besides, we already have shows like that. And we already have DS9 which grapples with many of those dark, pessimistic themes. Voyager feels like a breath of fresh air, even within the breath of fresh air that is Star Trek as a franchise. It’s a show that says, “Yes, when everything goes wrong people will come together. They will love each other. They will make it through.” 

What’s more Star Trek than that? 

#star trek #ST #mymetas #Anonymous

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

@vindicatedvirgil intrulogica? Intruality? Why not both?

Intrulogical first though (and this definitely isnt going to be part of a fic I'm writing noooo shhhhhh)

They both have adhd. But while Logan suffers most with executive dysfunction, getting overwhelmed with to do lists so he ends up either not doing anything or forcing himself to work to burnout, Remus suffers more the hyperactive aspect. Having so much excess energy he bounces from one task to the next without being able to focus long enough to finish anything. Putting more things on Logan causing more stress on him which makes Remus feel awful and try harder but the more he tries concentrating frustratingly the more absentminded he gets. So the cycle continues.

At his wots end Logan talks with Toman and he mentions how Trmus used to play drums. So Logan drags Remus to a studio where they basically just go on a musical couple's therapy date to see if this works to get out excess energy.

It turns out it's a good thing they live in their own house and have a spare room they can somewhat soundproof bc it ends up really working for Remus. He always comes out from playing drums happy but exhausted, thoughts run a little more dry at he works out counts in his head or just goes wild with whatever sounds good. Logan finds the experimental but steady rhythms he can just barely hear often work to get him energized and excited about working, leading to less stress about not getting anything done because things are actually getting done.

Remus works out anyway but seeing him come out of the room sweaty hair even more wild that usual and grinning with no shirt on because of course he wouldng be wearing one, Logan finds it...aesthetically pleasing to say the least.

Logan can bake extremely well because it's just following a recipe and he's very good with instructions. Remus can cook extremely well because he cooks mostly by smell and adds seasonings as he sees fit and often gets bored making much of the same thing so meals are almost always different from day to day. Together they are a formidable force when their friends get married and ask them to bring covered dishes, very much giving Patton a run for his money when it comes to how many different kinds of cookies can possibly be baked in two days.

Logan is a bit touch adverse while Remus is a very physically affectionate person. Cue Logan piling blankets on top of himself and patting his stomach so Temus can curl on top of him like a weighted blanket himself. This is how they cuddle most of the time and while no one exactly gets it they're very happy with the compromise.

They both tend to info dump and a common interest between them is true crime, Logan pointing out all the ways the crime could have been carried out more effectively and Remus saying they lacked creativity and pointing out how to make the kill more interesting. Both of their respective families are very glad they moved out of their thin walled apartment and into a house with a big yard, they always wondered how the neighbors before the move didn't end up reporting either of them to the police.

Remus is constantly forgetting where he puts things which annoys Logan go no end, and Logan moves things without telling Remus which annoys Remus to no end. Logan starts carrying sharpie around and drawing an arrow in the direction he moved it which is highly amusing for Remus and remus starts writing notes on his skin saying where one thing or another is. Somehow they make this work and their house continues to be messily chaotic.

I could go on for so long I love them 😭 but I hope you like this little list!

#false speaks #headcannons #intrulogical #remus sanders #logan sanders

[teamfreewill2pointo]

genuine q: so you said that dean reciprocation was never written. do you mean for ep18? or do you have proof nothing of the sort got cut from the finale two either. just curious, bc i honestly was always betting on reciprocation in ep20, but we know a lot of fuckery went down and obliterated what i think they intended for that ep

TLDR: Canon textual reciprocal Destiel was never pitched. Castiel’s confession was never pitched until season 15. So a bit of background:

The Supernatural writing room is a mess and has been for some time. The early show runners had a unified vision, but that’s gotten less clear as time as gone on. The hierarchy goes like this: Singer -> Dabb -> Berens/Glynn -> Everyone Else, with Eugenie Ross-Leming and Brad Buckner off in the corner doing their own thing. Instead of treating Berens and Glynn as two separate writers, they almost function as one. They get along really well and they carry plots through each other’s episodes. That’s why the storylines they handle together are so unified. Eugenie is married to Bob Singer, so BL have a lot of power, but they are hated by Berens/Glynn and co. BL also have arcs and favorite characters that the other writes hate dealing with, but are forced to include in the story. For example, Donatello. BL love Donatello in part because they get money when he appears. You can see how other writers tried to kill/write off Donatello, but BL keep bringing him back since the actor is a friend and they get money when the writers have him in scenes. The only reason Rowena has lasted this long is because, although another writer created her, she first appeared in a BL episode, so they get the payment for her appearance. Characters developed by writers are more likely to be used by those writers in general, but BL take it to another level. BL love Mark P and were the ones who insisted on the Nick storyline, which some other writers hated. The writing room wasn’t just in conflict about if Lucifer should get a redemption arc or not, but how Destiel was viewed. At least one writer sees Dean as repressed bi, others see Castiel in love with Dean, and others saw them as brothers. The writers themselves have mentioned that they aren’t sure where a season will go when they start it. Jared said that where they plan to end a season is never how they actually end it. Lately, it’s been written like spaghetti: they throw things at the wall and see what sticks. Once TPTB gave J2 the ability to end the show (Misha said about 6 years ago), contracts were signed for 2 years. Everyone, writers and actors, had signed up for 13 & 14. J2 decided that season 15 would be the last instead of signing a 2 year contact for 15 and 16. It was a group decision, but ultimately it was up to J2. When writing Byzantium, Glynn and Berens wanted it to end with Castiel confessing his love for Dean. The people who actually are friends with the writers told me that Dean being textually in love with Castiel was never on the table for a variety of reasons. As I understand it, Dean was never going to confess his love to Castiel, but the Empty plan was written with Destiel in mind for the end. It wasn’t pitched that way at the time, but that’s what Glynn and Berens planned when she wrote that episode. After the Wayward thing, Berens was thinking of leaving, but he had to stay through 14 because of his contract. When season 15 was announced as the last, he stayed on through 15 in order to land the ending because it was really important to him. Up until that point, it had never been officially planned nor pitched. Berens and Glynn got together with the other writers and Berens started out season 15 with that pitch. From what I hear, Dabb was easy to bring on board, but Singer was the harder sell. Dabb was never anti-Destiel, he just didn’t see it that way, but was happy to follow what Berens and Glynn wanted to do. Everyone I’ve talked to says that it wasn’t the network or Warner Brothers, but Singer was the one that needed to sign on. The people who know the writers insist that homophobia wasn’t Singer’s objection; he just didn’t see the characters that way. Same with the writers who write them as brothers. [Now just because someone isn’t consciously homophobic doesn’t mean that they aren’t homophobic, but that’s a whole different issue] So basically, Berens and Glynn planned this end for Castiel in season 14. They were the ones who wrote the ending for the whole series. Now, the ending didn’t end up the way they planned because of covid, but this was the ending they planned, albeit unclear and messed up because of covid. Berens is a writer who loves tragedy, so this ending is tragic.

I now know Castiel’s original ending and it’s pretty close to what we saw on screen. Dean was never written as reciprocated and there were never any plans to do so. Castiel confessing didn’t become official until season 15 started, even if some writers were writing him that way earlier. Does all that make sense?

#spngate #spn gate #destielgate #destiel #Anonymous #spn #supernatural #spnfamily #spn family #dean&castiel #dean winchester #castiel #jensen ackles #misha collins #spn 15.20 #spn s15 #spn s15 spoilers #carry on #spn finale #tdcc #answers

[jpegjade]

Writer’s Block - Spencer

IT HAS BEEN A LIL BIT SINCE I ACTUALLY COMPLETED SOMETHING. literally i’m jumping from job to job. i barely found time to write this lmao. 

this is for the lovely anon who requested this: can we have a fic where the reader has writer’s block and spencer is helpful? 

here you go anon, HELPFUL SPENCER 

warnings: all fluff and a lil bit of a reference talking about weight but it’s all fluff and nothing seriously deep. 

_____________

“Ugh.” You yelled, throwing your hands in the air. “This is pointless.” 

Spencer was sitting at his desk when he looked up to see you having a partial meltdown on your shared apartment couch. 

“Please tell me why I decided to do this. I can’t think of a single reason why anyone would go through this torture willingly.” You groaned to Spencer, who just smiled in response. 

You were glad he found this so amusing because you surely didn’t think any of it was cute in the slightest. 

“You’ve got a psychological inability to produce a substantial amount of content to satisfy your drive to create.” Spencer continued smiling at you. 

“Cliff Notes version, please. I’m mentally spent.” You said, looking over at him. 

“Writer’s block.” He said, as if he couldn’t just say that in the beginning. 

“At the worst time possible.” You said, groaning again. 

As an author, you were used to the words coming to you easily. There were so many ways to describe a single feeling that you just knew how to craft the language most of the time. It’s one of the many things that made Spencer fall in love with you: You crafted a world of your own through imagination and you were able to pull other people in to experience it with you. It was something special about you that set you apart from so many other writers in your genre. 

Getting up from his chair, Spencer walked over to your spot on the couch to sit next to you. He put his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. 

“How far have you gotten on your story?” Spencer said, leaning over to see your laptop screen. You turned it away from him so he couldn’t see anything. 

“Baby, you know I don’t like you to see my works in progress. I only want you to see things when they’re complete.” You said. 

“Baby, I want to see every stage of your creativity no matter how rough.” Spencer smiled. “Maybe I can offer some advice and corrections.” 

“I don’t want you to see everything bc plot holes and such. And I don’t want you to know the plot until it’s complete.” You closed your computer screen so he couldn’t see anything. 

You turned to stare at him as he pulled his arm back, leaving on the back of the couch. The two of you stared at each other, both holding your own secrets. 

Your secret was that you secured a book deal for a Young Adult book. While the signatures were still needed for paycheck negotiations to close, you were holding out on telling Spencer until your manager confirmed everything was official. The call could come at any minute so you were checking your phone every few minutes. You weren’t superstitious but you didn’t want to tell Spencer something before it was completely confirmed. You didn’t want to get your hopes up but more importantly, you didn’t want to disappoint Spencer. He was so proud of you for your constant writing and he loved to read your stories after you sent them to your editor for content when your story was chosen for different magazines, contests, and blogs. If you secure this book deal, it will be huge for you and Spencer, making your dream come true. 

Spencer’s secret was that he was off for a month. He just got back from a case that lasted 3 weeks and before that, he was gone for the larger part of 2 months. There were a lot of back to back cases that ran right behind each other. The two of you made a sarcastic joke that it was serial killer season because it was like clockwork that these cases would come in. It was sad that so many people were hurt and killed in the process but there were countless lives saved by the team and their constant, tiring work. They needed some time off, especially with the last case draining them so greatly. 

“I won’t push you but just know, I’m excited about everything you do. I’m so proud of you for being so persistent in everything. You know, the word persistent is a great word to describe you because it’s more than just the determination to accomplish a task, although many people use it in conjunction with the word. Based on the definition by the Miriam-Webster dictionary, the word persistent means to exist for a long or longer than usual time continuously. You’ve been determined to continue your writing but it’s more than that. You’ve evolved from only writing for whoever will read your work to writing for yourself. You connect with...” Spencer wanted to go on before he noticed your phone vibrating. 

“Hold on, Spence. I’m so sorry.” You said, pulling out your phone. 

It was a text message from your agent. 

“Closed and complete. Sealed the deal. Mucho bueno mi amor.” Your agent followed that text with celebration emojis and you couldn’t look away. By calling you her love, your agent meant nothing by it any more than you called your friends your girlfriends. Your agent knew you well so she was very friendly. 

Your heart was beating a mile a minute, your breathing strained. You didn’t know whether you wanted to laugh or cry, or both at the same time. It was real. It was really real. It was entirely real. A tear ended up slipping through the floodgates, quickly followed by another. Spencer immediately saw the shift in your body language before you were able to hide it. 

“What’s wrong?” Spencer said, worry crossing his face. He didn’t understand how such a happy moment could go south so quickly. 

“It’s not you.” You said, trying to hold back the fact that you were ready to start sobbing. You wiped the tears away and put your hands back in your lap. Fresh tears were right behind those and you weren’t going to stop them this time. You hung your head, chin barely touching your chest, watching the tears fall on your hands. 

“What is it? You can tell me, lovely.” Spencer grabbed your hands from resting in your lap. His thumb immediately began gently rubbing your hands, which only made you cry harder. 

Readjusting how he sat so he could pull you into his lap, Spencer was so confused and so hurt because he didn’t know how to fix it. He couldn’t fix it when he didn’t know what was wrong. He just wanted you to be okay and you seemed far from it. You fought him a little bit. 

“I’m going to flatten you.” You said, finally calming down. 

“Then I will be the happiest flat man alive. You won’t flatten me, lovely. You’ll put your cute butt in my lap, swing your arms around my shoulders, and hang onto me for dear life as you let go of whatever just happened. You don’t have to feel alone if you’re sad.” Spencer said. 

You got up, sat on the couch next to him, and put your legs over his. It was much more comfortable that way and made you less self-conscious. He was staring at you with his puppy eyes and it melted your heart all over again. 

“I have something to tell you.” You said, taking a deep breath. 

“Okay…” Spencer looked concerned, stoic even. He was even a little bit scared. 

“I’ve been hiding something from you and I feel so bad about it.” Tears sprang to your eyes again. 

“Lovie, whatever it is, we can work through it. There are very few things in this world you can tell me that I would be upset about. I”ve seen the worst of the worst. Working out a minor bump won’t break me.” Spencer slightly smiled. 

“No, no. It’s not bad. I promise it’s not.” You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding. “I got a book deal.” 

Spencer was silent for a second before he broke out in the biggest smile you had seen from him in a while. He obviously didn’t have a problem being happy as his emotion. Joy overcame him and he gently put your legs on the ground and stood up just to kneel in front of you to cover you in kisses. He kissed every major part of your face before kissing you. A slow, gentle kiss but it still took your breath away. 

“You know you’re amazing, right? You deserve this out of anyone.” Spencer held your face gently in his hands, his thumb slowly rubbing your cheek.  

“I’m stuck, Spence. How am I supposed to finish the book when I can’t even finish the short story I’m writing.” You couldn’t meet his eyes. 

“Maybe I can help. What’s it about?” Spencer stood up, sitting back on the couch next to you. 

“It’s the story of this brilliant teacher who moonlights as a spy. Not the most original idea but it’s not supposed to be original. It’s just a short story that someone requested on my blog.” You grabbed your computer and put it back on your lap. 

“So you’re writing about me.” Spencer smiled. 

“You’re not a spy. You moonlight as a teacher.” You said, opening your computer. You couldn’t bear to look at Spencer’s face right now as he thought about how you were basically writing about him. 

You always took character inspiration from him. He was such a big part of your life that all of your writing had hints of Spencer in them, no matter how hard you tried to leave him out of things. So it was a big deal for him to even figure out that he was largely related to this story. 

“What if…” Spencer started, “You wrote about his dashing butt?” Spencer said, beaming at you. 

You choked on your spit. 

“What?” You said, in between coughs.

“His fabulous behind in pants. You’re always telling me how amazing I look in my black slacks. So why not write about that for fun? I’m sure your blog readers would be quite amused.” Spencer was so hilariously serious that you couldn’t stop laughing. 

“Okay, fine. You win. I will put in something about your butt.” You said, turning your computer on. 

“And insert something about his beautifully flowing hair.” Spencer said. 

“Baby, your hair is short right now.” You said. He allowed you to cut his hair a few days ago and he missed his longer hair but he really liked when you gave him haircuts. 

“I know but if he’s a badass super spy and a teacher, he needs to have versatile looks.” Spencer ran his hand through his hair, a new habit he started when you cut his hair. 

“Baby, you’re going to overwhelm me with ideas.” You said, chuckling. You felt a little better about the writer’s block and the book deal the more Spencer made you laugh. 

“Good. Maybe we should go on a walk and figure out more ideas. Exercise is good for ideas because your blood flow to your brain is increased. You also get mental clarity. Over the next 6 weeks, we can do that more.” Spencer quickly walked to the door to grab both of your running shoes. 

Sitting down next to you, what he said finally hit you. 

“Next six weeks?” You asked, putting your computer on the coffee table. 

You didn’t care that all you were wearing were some cozy shorts and an old t-shirt that was way too big for you. 

“Oh, I didn’t tell you.” Spencer got his right shoe on after a little bit of struggle. “I’m off for 6 weeks after the last case. We all need the break…” He said, his eyes going to a dark place for a moment. You gently touched his arm and came back to life, in the moment with you. 

“So… You can help me?” Your mood got significantly better as you realized he was all yours for 6 weeks. 

“Every step of the way, y/n.” Spencer said, popping up from the couch in his shoes, ready to go.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine