#I feel inclined to argue for more but I feel boxed in by the fact that it’s Winter in Philly in the second half of s4

[sadhours]

Billy and Steve kinda drunk at Tina’s stupid party, decide to smoke a j together and end up jerking each other off because you know, they’re not gay and anything more would just be too gay 😉

I really fucking love these two, thank you for this request.

cw: 18+ minors dni, smut, they uh jerk each other off, it’s not gay I swear, drug and alcohol use

💟💟💟💟💟

“She said I’m bullshit,” Steve mumbles, “That we’re bullshit.”

Why the fuck he’s saying this to the new guy who stalked up to him with his chest puffed as their first interaction, he isn’t sure. But it’s been a few hours since Nancy basically broke up with him and left with Byers. And Steve was just gonna go home. He hadn’t drank before then, planned on staying relatively sober for the night but that went out the window when he passed a bottle of vodka on his way out. Drank about half of it before he stumbled downstairs in the basement and found who other than Billy Hargrove, Hawkins new Keg King as the fucks he used to call his friends gloated about seconds after Hargrove took the record out from under Steve.

Hargrove was by himself. Sat on the couch Tina’s mother decided was out of fashion and retired to the finished basement. Looks like it’s mostly meant for storage. Loads of boxes. Steve was coming down here to be alone. Get a second to breathe. Asked Billy what the hell he was down here for and turns out, for the same thing. Then he held up a rather fat joint and asked King Steve to join him.

Half a joint and the rest of the vodka bottle later, Steve’s venting to the new King Asshole.

“Girls’ are bullshit,” Billy says with a strained voice, holding the skunky weed smoke in his lungs. Exhales. Looks cool and it annoys Steve, cause he used to care about looking cool and he wishes that didn’t change. At least he didn’t hurt inside this much then. Billy passes the joint back, “They’re only good for one thing and honestly, they ain’t that fucking super at that either.”

Steve’s inclined to agree, mostly out of hurt. Maybe shit would’ve been easier for him if he did to Nancy what he’s done to all the other girls he’s been with. Unfortunately, he liked her.

“She wasn’t,” he huffs, “I mean— Nancy’s great.”

Billy snorts, leans back and wraps an arm around Steve’s shoulders. He smells like some musky cologne, beer and cigarettes. But Steve kind of likes looking at him and he’s not sure why.

“Bitch dumped you,” Billy whispers, leaning close to Steve like this is some big secret, “You’re allowed to be mad at her. Granted, I don’t know what the fuck you did but King Steve, you’re a senior in high school. Bitches come and go.”

Steve huffs again and sits back, ‘cause he can’t argue without explaining a whole bunch of weird, confusing shit he doesn’t even completely understand himself to a complete stranger. He rubs his palms against his eyes, wants them to stop stinging. Billy’s being nice now but again, he’s a stranger. And if Tommy’s clinging to him like a stubborn barnacle, he’s probably not all that kind. There was something in his eyes when he stared Steve down earlier that was scary. Because Steve didn’t understand it. If he wanted to kick Steve’s ass, he could’ve but he didn’t. Just stared at him like he wanted something out Steve but Steve still can’t figure out what.

“Sorry— I shouldn’t be whining about this shit to you,” Steve laughs, awkwardly, “I don’t even know you.”

“But I know you,” Billy replies with a smirk.

“Y-you do?” Steve looks back to Billy with hesitation, perhaps even a little fearful.

Billy nods slowly, lips pursed with the joint hanging from them. Plucks the paper from his lips and passes it back to Steve as he says, “You’re all these boring fucks care about. King Steve is the only thing they can talk about. Barely been here but I know all about you.”

Steve likes this fact but he also feels guilty that he likes that, because he isn’t supposed to care about the whole popularity thing anymore. He even blushes hearing it, shakes his head and takes the joint. Takes a small pull and passes it back because he’s already too stoned and school’s gonna be hell tomorrow.

“Yikes,” he says and Billy laughs, cruel and deep in his belly and it makes Steve feel uneasy. But he likes sitting on this couch down here, hidden behind stacks of boxes. Labeled things like XMAS DECORATIONS and TINA’S SUMMER CLOTHES.

“They like you still,” Billy whispers, smoothes his fingers down the back of Steve’s neck. Gives him chills but he doesn’t move.

“Wanna forget about her?” Billy asks then, “Just for right now?”

“Yes,” Steve chokes out in spite of how his brain’s firing off about how this is weird and he should be getting home. But mom and dad are out of town again. And he does wanna forget about Nancy. Wants to get this hurt out of his chest.

Billy’s hand drops to Steve’s lap, he pulls another drag from the joint and exhales the smoke in Steve’s face. His hands barely moving but Steve can feel it. And maybe it’s the smoke making his head feel all fuzzy and his body feel all warm. His dick’s getting hard. Because Billy Hargrove is feeling him up over his Levi’s.

His palm pushes a little harder on Steve’s crotch, his eyes look straight ahead as he finishes off the joint. Pinches the cherry between his fingers before he tosses it to the floor. Steve watches it and then looks straight ahead like Billy does. Next, Billy grabs Steve’s wrist and pulls his hand to Billy’s tight jeans. Drops it in his lap. And Steve’s filled with a curiosity he’s never felt before. He starts rubbing Billy’s crotch. He kind of wants to look at Billy’s face but he’s scared to. Keeps his eyes trained on a rolled up rug in the corner of the room.

The pressure of Billy’s palm on his cock feels nice. It’s easy to focus on it. Weed’s always made Steve a little frisky. Everything just feels hotter. Kissing feels better, eating pussy is funner and it makes his cock like, a million times more sensitive. So he’s fully torqued in his jeans. Feels like Billy is too. Which weirdly enough, turns Steve on even more and his hips kind of roll up into Billy’s touch. And it has to be the weed that makes Steve whine. He’s trying to ignore that it’s Billy’s hand on him but he can’t, really. Gives himself a moment to glance down at his hand on Billy’s lap and finds that Billy has some pretty seriously defined abs. And it’s real weird that he likes them. Definitely the weed.

Soon enough, Billy’s unbuttoning Steve’s jeans and Steve moves to help get them down his thighs, along with his underwear. His cock pops out, bounces and hangs. Billy’s also pulling his pants and underwear down and then he’s spitting on his hand and wrapping his fingers around Steve’s cock.

Steve whimpers from the wet touch, eyes rolling back in his head as his hips stutter up. Billy’s voice is quiet and strained when he asks, “Thinking about her?”

“No,” Steve confesses, looks down at where Billy’s languidly stroking him and it’s odd seeing another man’s hand wrapped around his cock. Not odd enough to stop this, though. He returns the favor, spits a glob of saliva into his palm and smears it over Billy’s thick cock. Squeezes at the base, curls his hand on the upstroke. Billy lets out a sweet, breathy noise that Steve likes a lot. Different than a girls’ moan but just as pretty, he thinks.

Steve gasps when Billy squeezes his cock a little tighter and speeds up his strokes. Quick and firm. Steve mirrors it with his own hand on Billy. Steve stares down at his own crotch, Billy does the same. The pair of ‘em gasping and moaning softly. Steve comes first, a mess on his thighs and Billy’s fist. And the blonde strokes him through it. Steve’s whimpering and it’s pretty damn pathetic the way his hips cant up in the air. Billy’s following suit soon after, jerking his hips up as he fucks Steve’s fist.

The boys sit back, hands loose around softening dicks as they pant. Steve looks down at the mess in his lap, not sure how to clean it. He glances around the room but there’s not much in here. Just the couch and boxes. So Steve leans forward, shucks off his blazer and uses that to soak up the cooling cum on his thighs and hand. Hands to Billy before pulling up his briefs and pants. And this whole interaction has sobered him up. The realization that he and the new guy have just jerked each other off in Tina’s fucking basement hits him hard and Steve needs to leave. So he does. Without a word to the guy.

Worst part, at basketball practice the next day. Both of them wildly hungover. Billy crowds behind Steve and says, “Harrington, right? Heard you used to run this school, that true?” like he didn’t just jerk him off the night before.

#billy x steve #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #Billy Hargrove x steve Harrington #Steve Harrington x Billy Hargrove #harringrove smut #request

[jupipedia]

two slow dancers. - k. nanami. “ we’re just two slow dancers, last ones out. ” ex lovers. part i.

“i don’t think i’m gonna go,” y/n muttered, laying on her back with her phone in her hand as she talked to satoru. the two had been in her room for the past two hours as he tried to convince the woman to attend their high school reunion for the seventh time that week.

“nanamin might be there,” satoru announced.

“even more of a reason for me not to go,” y/n concluded, standing from her bed and walking towards the entrance of her room.

“come on, y/n. it won’t even be that bad.”

“‘toru, i don’t want to go to the stupid reunion!”

“‘toru, i already told you that i’m not going to the dance!”

“why?” nanami asked, looking up from his lunch as he listened to his two friends argue about the upcoming event. the two, followed by suguru, had just joined him at the table and were already arguing.

“she doesn’t want to go because nobody asked her,” satoru responded for y/n, earning a shove from the girl.

“shut the fuck up, satoru. you don’t have to announce it to the entire school,” y/n mumbled, turning her attention to the lunch tray in front of her.

“don’t be serious, y/n. there’s no way that you having to go solo is the reason why you aren’t going. i don’t have a date either, but i’m still going,” suguru groaned from his spot next to nanami.

“you’re a guy. it doesn’t mean anything when you go alone. when a girl goes alone, it’s different. can we just stop talking about it?”

“i’ll take you,” nanami spoke, his words inciting a bit of shock in the group.

the group was silent as y/n stared at nanami who continued with his meal as if he had never spoken. suguru and saturo exchanged knowing looks before glancing between their two friends.

it was no secret that nanami preferred y/n’s company to most people’s as he would often wait for her after her classes or trade bento boxes with her when he knew he had something that she liked. he had no problem walking away from a conversation just because he saw her walking or sitting alone. most weren’t sure if it was a romantically inclined reaction or if that’s just the dynamic their friendship took, but suguru and satoru had a feeling that it was the former.

“thank you for the offer, nanami, but no girl will accept a pity date from her guy friend. no matter how considerate they are,” y/n declined, her face growing warm at the thought of going with nanami.

it was an even lesser secret that y/n harbored feelings for the boy, him having been the one that she hoped would ask her.

“it’s not a pity date. i’ve been meaning to ask you but your mind was never on the date aspect of the dance. i mean you spent so long talking about finding a dress, i assumed you were fine with not finding a date,” nanami shrugged, looking up with his chopsticks in hand. “do you want any? it’s grilled eel.”

y/n was perplexed. it was a good thing that nanami wanted to take her. she would be able to go with someone who she could enjoy herself around rather than going with some random person if someone did decide to ask her. however, the fact that it was nanami made it a bit nerve-racking for her. if it were to have been suguru or satoru, she wouldn’t have given it any hesitation as satoru had been with her since they were younger and suguru was sometimes her second shadow, but nanami? sure, they were close and often seen together, but nanami was able to make the girl’s stomach flip with just a few words.

it was different.

the two stared at each other for a few seconds before y/n picked up her own set of chopsticks and motioned for him to push the bento box closer to her. “thanks, kento.”

“kento? when did you two become so friendly?” satoru said, eyebrows raised to his hairline. suguru nodded at his words, glancing between the two.

“satoru, please stop talking while i’m eating. you’re gonna make sick,” nanami retorted as y/n took a bite of the eel that she picked up from his bento box.

“please y/n. i’ll try to prevent anyone from asking annoying questions or making comments like at my birthday. we’ll just go and have a nice time,” satoru begged, dropping to his knees for extra effect.

“get up. there’s no way you’re on your knees right now,” y/n looked at him from her standing position.

“not until you say you’re coming.”

“feel free to get comfortable down there.”

“y/n, please,” he pleaded, wrapping his arms around her legs.

“toru, get the fuck—satoru!” y/n struggled to get the man from around her legs.

“please, please, please, please—”

“alright! now get the fuck off of me before i kill you, you overgrown man child,” y/n shoved the white haired man away from her before walking through the door and towards the kitchen.

“knew you would come around, n/n,” gojo flashed a grin as he followed the girl.

“keep talking and you will be going to the reunion with my foot up your ass.”

y/n was pulled into the venue by satoru as she had last minute regrets about allowing him to annoy her into coming to the reunion. she even let the blue eyed bastard choose what she wore and he did not disappoint as he chose a figure and complexion complimenting dress. she didn’t remember buying the dress, so she assumed it had been gifted to her by the man.

“see, it’s nice. a bunch of our old classmates. the music’s good and nanamin isn’t here. maybe he changed his mind and you have nothing to worry about,” satoru said, pulling her towards the groups of people.

“if he’s not here, then who is making intense eye contact with me right now?” y/n’s eyes were met with a pair of dull brown ones. nanami had been surrounded by a few others as he sipped from the cup in his hand. she looked away from him and took a deep breath, noticing there was a faint smell of disinfectant and sweat. “why is he even here? he’s a year younger than us.”

“it’s a reunion for our year and the two after us. why do you think there are so many people here? now let’s go over there and say hi,” he says, pulling her along as she protests.

“absolutely not. let me go, cocksucker,” y/n tried to tug her arm away from him.

“you haven’t talked to him since he followed you out to chit chat about whatever it is that you won’t tell me about. what he said couldn’t have been so bad that you need to avoid him like the plague.”

“don’t be so nosy.”

“why didn’t i stop you? from breaking up with me? do you know how that sounds, y/n? it sounds insane,” nanami said from his spot down the sidewalk.

“it’s insane that i wanted you to fight for our relationship? you know what—nevermind, nanami. forget i said anything. you didn’t care when it happened and you obviously don’t care now. have a nice rest of your night,” y/n walked around to the driver side of her car, reaching for the door handle when he spoke.

“i waited at the door. i waited with my back against the door, in case you wanted to take it back. and you didn’t knock. not once did you come back to the door,” nanami admitted. y/n was silent for a few counts as her mind registered his words. her heart panged before her anger began to boil.

“i stood outside of your house in the rain for like ten minutes! i was sobbing on my knees in your walkway and you were waiting for me to take it back? what was i supposed to say after you agreed that we shouldn’t be together? tell me.”

“and i was supposed to know what to say after you wanted to call it off? what did you want me to say? ‘talk to me, we can work this out’ or ‘you don’t know what’s best for me’? is that what you wanted to hear?” he countered, coming closer to her car.

“yes, kento! i wanted you to say that! i wanted you to chase after me! i wanted you to stop me!” y/n exclaimed. the two stood huffing in their spots after y/n’s admittance.

“y/n, are you com—oh. am i interrupting something?” gojo asked, pausing as he saw his two best friends talking on the sidewalk.

“nanami was just wishing me a goodnight. i have to go. early meeting in the morning. i’ll call you after it. happy birthday, again,” y/n said, opening her car door.

“y/n—,” nanami tried.

“goodnight to you, too, kento.”

“nanamin! we’re here,” gojo took a seat, leaving the only open one to be in between him and nanami. y/n suppressed a groan before taking a seat, making sure to elbow gojo on her way down. as she sat down, nanami got up from the table and walked towards the bar.

“gojo, how have you been,” one of nanami’s acquaintances asked, pouring the white haired man a drink. y/n looked for a drink of her own, but everything at the table was either alcoholic or simply not preferable. she began to rise to get her own drink when a bottle of water was sat in front of her. she looked to see that nanami had returned to the table with nothing other than the water bottle that he gave her. she sunk back in her seat, not touching the bottle.

“he’s been on my last nerve,” y/n answered for gojo, sending him an annoyed smile which he returned with a cheeky smile of his own.

y/n didn’t contribute much else to their conversation, choosing to occupy herself with the complimentary chips that were set out on the table. out of her peripheral vision, she observed nanami.

he was dressed in his usual work attire, his tie a bit looser than usual and his glasses in his collar rather than on his face. his cheeks were a light pink color, assumedly from the drink that he had been sipping all night. he wasn’t adding much to the conversation, offering an occasional hum or nod when he needed to. he instead steals the occasional glance in y/n’s direction to find her in a similar state as him, just sober.

“y/n, we’re gonna play pool, wanna come?” satoru asked, gaining the attention of both her and nanami.

“i’ll pass,” y/n refused, leaning back in her seat.

“i’m out, too. last time, satoru walked around with half of the balls in his pocket so that he could win,” nanami said, earning an incredulous look from the man in question.

“don’t listen to him. he’s a sore loser. i’ll be back in like 20 minutes, y/n. try not to kill nanamin in that time span,” gojo sashayed away, waving his hand behind him as he did so.

rather than turning and talking to nanami, y/n settled for resting her head on her hand and watching her friend play from across the room. she assumed her actions earned her the scoff from nanami as he rubbed his hand down the length of his face.

“he’s already cheating. he shoving a red ball in his pocket as we speak,” nanami muttered, earning an amused huff from y/n.

“he cheats at everything. pool, card games, sparring, he never plays fair,” y/n agreed.

“he’s lucky that he’s sneaky,” nanami said, speaking again when y/n only offered him a hum in lue of a response. “too good to talk to me today?”

“not much to talk about,” y/n rebutted, turning to look at nanami.

“you had a lot to say last time you saw me.”

“got all that needed to be said out back then,” y/n shrugged. the music changed to a familiar tune causing y/n to groan a little. “who even plays songs like this at a bar?”

“you love this song though,” nanami said.

“yeah, until it starts reminding me of you,” y/n mumbled before she could stop herself. she looked at nanami with wide eyes after finishing her statement, a bit shocked at what she said. he sat with his lips pursed and nodded his head.

“fair.”

the two sat in silence as the lights dimmed. y/n looked over to where gojo had previously been standing, only to see him slow dancing with a woman a few inches shorter than him.

but as it is and it is

we’re just two slow dancers, last ones out

“for what it’s worth, i’m sorry,” nanami muttered out.

“me too, kento. me too.”

and the two stayed seated at the table in silence as the ghosts of their youth danced one last time.

we’re two slow dancers, last ones out.

© jupipedia—do not repost, plagiarized, or falsely claim my work. likes, comments, and reblogs are welcome!

#— (jupipedia.) #— (a jupiter production.) #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #nanami x fem!reader #nanami x black!reader #nanami x reader #kento nanami x reader #anime x black!reader #anime x reader #nanami angst

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Is it just me or is anyone else creeped out by Rollo being so nice to MC?? He goes out of his way to say nice things to us which is weird almost like he’s trying to get on our good side for some reason. He also suspiciously knows a lot about MC already. I’m thinking Rollo wants to use MC for something maybe related to Malleus. What are your thoughts on this?

I don’t know if I’d call it outright “creepy”, but I do feel mildly unsettled by it?? There’s also a few scenes where Rollo is implied to just be… staring at the NRC group (his portrait shows up on screen, but the dialogue box only reads as “. . . . .”), which I personally find a lot more disturbing. I just don’t like being watched 😭 I feel like it could all be foreshadowing something!! (… though it’s also possible that I’m totally overthinking this 💦)

For context, Rollo greets the NRC students when they arrive on Noble Bell College’s campus. He speaks politely, but the NRC boys remark that he looks angry. (Note: Rollo’s character portrait is not actually glaring most of the tome; the NRC boys are likely referring to him as having a resting bitch face 😂)

While showing the guests around campus, Rollo reveals that he knows who everyone is, as he read the materials provided to him by Crowley. Rollo lists off their full names, as well as relevant positions and titles—but when he noticed Yuu and Grim, he notably becomes a little chattier and even… friendly? (Like, he even smiles a little bit.) “It must trouble you (someone who cannot use magic) to be surrounded by magic users everyday,” Rollo says. He lifts his arms and invites Yuu to relax, then adds (with the scene shifting to include Malleus), “… and that goes for the rest of you as well.”

***CONTENT WARNING: I will be briefly discussing a theory which involves racism and war below the cut, so please read at your own discretion.***

If these lines have any meaning in the grand scheme of things 🤔 I think (well, considering Rollo’s Disney inspiration) that this could play into any potential prejudices that he holds? A lot of fans are already speculating that Rollo holds anti-fae sentiments, and, from a certain angle, one could argue that his off-handed remark to Yuu supports that theory.

Think about the wording and the history of Noble Bell College. What the students at NBC value above all else is maintaining fairness and righteousness, just as its founder, the “Just/Righteous Judge”, did. Then, consider that Rollo seems to express sympathy for a non-magical human stuck at a school of mages in training. And then add the fact that fairies are implied to be more magically inclined than the other races; only a mere 10% of humans can use magic (and at the most basic level), whereas fairies have magic so plentiful that they utilize it for everyday activities like flying to their destinations.

With all of that in mind, it’s possible that Rollo’s line of thinking is this: “if this world were truly just, then magic users and non-magic users would be equal”. However, because fairies are a race that are more magically inclined than, say, humans, this causes an imbalance. Perhaps Rollo thinks that this disparity is not “just” as the Just Judge would want the world to be, and goes about administering his own judgment to “right the wrong”. Maybe Rollo himself isn’t a strong magic user (we’ve only seen other characters so far assume he must be powerful due to his position as student council president) and must rely on tricks or magical items to get ahead, which amplifies his hatred for those born lucky or gifted. (Alternatively, maybe Rollo is a powerful mage, but just cannot compete with Malleus’s natural abilities, which causes jealousy to brew??) And maybe he despises Malleus in particular because he’s the very public embodiment of all that Rollo sees as “unfair” in the world?? (Malleus has political influence, money, magical powers beyond belief, etc.) Maybe this all ties back to the aftermath of the human-fairy war that is sometimes mentioned???

It’s very… twisted logic, but sometimes it’s the worst of people who think they’re the best of people. They so deeply believe they are in the right and try to go out and act on those beliefs 😔 If this does end up happening, I think that would actually make Rollo one of the most disturbing antagonists we’ve seen so far in TWST—because that arrogant way of thinking perpetuates a lot of hatred in the real world too.

… Buuut of course, that’s just a theory 😅 A gaaaaame theory

I think the other popular theory floating around right now is that Rollo actually admires Malleus and wants to be his friend...? But his behavior comes off the wrong way because of Rollo’s face naturally looking like he’s always scowling or unhappy. That’s a more light-hearted take, I guess!

#notes from the writing raven #Rollo Flamme #Malleus Draconia #twst theory #twst theories #twisted wonderland theories #twisted wonderland theory #question #Yuu #spoilers #Grim #Dire Crowley #tw // racism #tw // war #Rollo Flamm

[kenora-pizza]

My Thoughts on "Emily in the middle"

Based off a conversation I had w/@mean-scarlet-deceiver in the comment section of this post of theirs, because Tumblr comments have a word limit that I wasn't aware of, and I'm in the mood to speak my mind on this.

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Alright. So. Emily in the middle. The last appearance of Donald and Douglas in the TV show, and imo, a pretty crappy one too. The Caledonian twins, (Donald in particular) are my favourite TTTE characters for multiple reasons, and there are many things in this episode which irritated or straight up pissed me off. And I've been holding these feelings in for months.

Now, to be fair, I did like some things about this episode. The visuals are gorgeous, and I love how they brought back the twins' season 20 theme from 'Love me tender.' They also carried over this thing introduced (and heavily featured) in 'Love me tender' where Donald acts like he knows better than Douglas, much to the latter's frustration. I REALLY wish they could elaborate further on this in another episode. Like maybe this behavior has been a constant but only now is it getting worse. Maybe this behaviour is related to the fact that Donald had to smuggle Douglas into Sodor, and started thinking of himself as the one who had to take charge and keep them both safe. Maybe it's from some sorta paranoia Donald developed regarding their status on Sodor, and for some time after the events of "Deputation," he still felt the need to protect and ensure that Douglas would remain on Sodor. (I don't know, I just came up with this). And the episode concept itself can be considered humorous, but imo, it would have been better with Bill, Ben and maybe Boco, Mavis or Edward.

First off, might as well get the obvious out of they way. The twins are HORRIBLY out of character in this episode. From the get-go, they're arguing about anything and everything, to the detriment of them and the engines around them. The TV show, especially in the CGI era, unfortunately started shifting them towards the very overdone trope of "They're twins and they argue a ton," but they went the whole way with it on this episode and it's flipping awful to watch. Especially at the end, when poor Emily got derailed by a snowball (while we're on the subject of that how the flying fuck did that thing get so big so quickly?) and they started blaming each other for the accident instead of helping or apologizing to her. Also doing seriously irresponsible things like stopping a HUGE ASS train on the main line and blocking the Express, and stopping the same train on a steep incline and leaving Emily to hold it while they bickered and chased each other up the hill. I mean honestly, they were acting more like Bill and Ben: Indistinguishable twins who frequently argue with each other over petty bullsh!t. The Caledonian Twins are absolute badasses who get sh!t done and clearly love each other very much. So why ruin them like this, Mattel?!

Second off.....this is something to do with a specific event (Brace yourselves for a long-ass explanation). In "Break Van," one of the notable events is Donald ramming a signal box (I'll explain). It's played off as an accident, but the book HEAVILY implies that this was intentional, with the line "But Donald didn't say what he was sorry for. We know, don't we?" and Douglas saying "Anyone would think, that Donald had his accident on purpose!" That's a huge wink wink from the book to the readers. And when you stop and think about it, Donald's motivation for this becomes clear. Think about everything that has happened to them thus far. Smuggling Douglas onto Sodor gave both of them a lot to lose, Douglas especially. By the time "Break Van" happens, Douglas has screwed up twice. And then the cherry on the top comes in the form of that motherf%^king Spiteful Brake Van making him late. At this point, the twins KNOW that Douglas is in TFC's black books and would be the one sent home after the trials if nothing is done. So to make TFC's decision more difficult, Douglas would either have to do better, or Donald would have to do worse. Donald chooses the latter option and it works, with TFC explicitly confirming this.

Now, In EITM, Douglas has been telling Emily about various incidents involving Donald from past seasons, and eventually start talking about the signal box incident. And given the significance of that event........it felt pretty darn scummy to hear them making light of that. That made me feel uncomfortable. Like... it's less "heehee, Donald is clumsy" and more "Donald purposefully injured himself and destroyed NWR property in an effort to keep his brother safe." I can see why Donald would be especially angry about this. It couldn't have been painless ramming into that signal box or fun getting lectured by Sir Topham Hatt, only for his brother to make light of it by laughing about it behind his back with another engine. And while we're on the topic, considering the bond between these brothers you cannot, in ANY WAY, convince me that Douglas would EVER talk sh!t about his brother behind his back to another engine. EVER.

Last off.....god, I REALLY feel for Emily in this episode. She may not be one of my absolute favourite characters, but she didn't deserve this, at all. I actually do like the idea of Donald, Douglas and Emily being a fun little trio, and I wish that it could have been done here.

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Ok wow, this turned out way longer than I expected for my first written Tumblr post. I hope people actually read this. If you reached the end, thanks for reading.

Also, if you wanna see something funny related to EITM, @jammyjams1910 did a fan dub of some scenes from the episode which had me laughing my ass off.

-Kenora

#ttte #ttte donald #ttte douglas #ttte donald and douglas #holy shit was this ever cathartic #I feel at peace now #Justice for the Caledonian Twins

[russilton]

Im new here and i must say that ur blog is a treasure to me (no dramatic). I enjoy ur postings a lot and I admire you sooo much!

It's a fascinating ship BUT sadly not a lot of people have realized this point i may say. and Im wondering when did you start to ship them? (cuz u know, the No1 gewis fan i may say? lol). Like when george came to merc? or even before? or it's like some special moments and everything suddenly clicks?

(feel free to ignore this if you don't wanna answer(but im lookin forward to it 😜)

Well anon you got me blushing at 10am, thank you very much

Wildly, I can give you the exact moment I started shipping it, because I documented it on discord.

See I’d sent @thatsmemate a gif of Bono earlier that day while explaining f1 to her, and she’d said Lewis and Bono looked like they were carnally in love, which to be fair in that gif they absolutely did. Then she went to bed, and I, a man with the flu and access to an ao3 account, did what any normal person does, and went “huh I wonder if there’s fic about Lewis on ao3”

And there sure was (fic is censored because I didn’t end up personally enjoying it but that’s not the authors fault, I just didn’t vibe with top George)

As we can all guess, it did indeed open Pandora’s box, because nobody reads just one fic when they’re sick.

I do truly wonder had my first f1 rpf fic been sewis or galex if I’d be here now- I really don’t know! I can explain to you all the reasons gewis is so vibrant and important and meaningful to me, but I also know I imprint like a duck, and it may have been the fact that it was the first fic I read and I went “well, this is awesome, I would like more” and then when I tried other ships it just… didn’t do anything for me? I mean I was well aware of and still follow the sewis sub reddit but never felt inclined to the fic ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (I also blame @hamiltvn and @danielssmile for having posted fics that knocked me on my ass when I started reading gewis , like can’t argue with quality)

Whatever it was, it clicked with me, and while I tried to go “this is weird they’re real people we can’t read this” I just… kept going back all while watching the races. I’d already gotten SO fond of George at Merc as it was, I was a fan of his before he signed with them, and while I was sad when he was signed over Val, I was also excited as all hell. Val seemed like Merc was taking a huge toll on him, and George was so silly but incredibly committed.

I can also give you the moment it clicked. I was on IG, recommended to me between races, Merc had posted a clip of Lewis interrupting George’s Australia interview to hug him, and George’s face just… wobbles. When he comes back to the interview his lip quivers and he has to take a breath, he looks happy but so very ready to cry… that was it for me, I just sat there and though oh, you adore him, of course you do.

I have shown this clip to so many gewis people who do not feel the same way about it I do, which is fascinating but I spose we can’t decide what our spark is can we? This was just it for me, and it’s only gotten worse seeing George flourish as his own person, he’s not just… chasing Lewis now, but valued as his own person, WHILE still putting Lewis at the centre of his focus and admiration. He’s no longer standing within a shadow- he’s growing out of it while remaining firmly rooted in that emotion of respect.

AND Lewis gives it back hand over fist the more he describes George as the push that helps keep him driving, the more he sees George as an almost equal

I only get more in love with them, even if they frustrate me and their team frustrate me and their fans… sure are loud. They bring me joy.

#asks #anonymous #mark talks Britcedes #I think I’ve told this story before but I’m one of those old people

[tokiro07]

Cipher Academy ch.49 thoughts

[What is a "Yout?"]

(Contents: character design, author philosophy, Toshusai analysis)

ONE YEAR DOWN, BABY, THREE TO GO!!! It's been pretty touch and go, and probably will continue to be, but the longer it goes the more likely Cipher Academy is to build up a strong enough following to keep going, so fingers crossed that the volumes keep selling well!

This week's chapter opens with a beautiful color page showing off everyone's color schemes (except the teachers' for some reason) and a quick review of the major codes we've seen so far. Most of the hair colors are pretty standard, Koshibai and Umitsubame notwithstanding, but the biggest surprise for me has to be Dekiai, who I would have bet money was blue, but nope! She's pink! I guess water can be any color if you dye it, I just figured the idea would be for her to look like a melted Kogoe. Maybe they went with pink to obscure that a bit more or because they looked too similar in color?

Speaking of Dekiai, the jury for Toshusai's trial being several Dekiais with different pigtails and beauty marks was a really fun touch, I especially liked the one whose hair popped when she felt scandalized. The fact that the prosecution is named Hakuai and clearly doesn't have any shading suggests that she's all white, so I wonder if perhaps each Dekiai was a different color with a unique name. I'm also curious if they're all just the one Dekiai playing multiple parts, or if they're each their own unique AI. I'm inclined to believe the former, but who knows

Another cute detail, when the Dekiais call for a guilty verdict, their beauty marks turn into spades. Looks like someone read Homestuck

Onto the meat of the chapter, this is really the type of philosophy that Nisio Isin loves to talk about, huh? There was an entire chapter in Medaka Box about how there are no easy or right answers when it comes to ethics, and it could be argued that that was one of the major themes of Medaka Box as a whole. This chapter's suggestion that the concept of a person is a societal construct is certainly novel, and while it does go out of its way to paint Toshusai as the good guy in this scenario, it's also clear that we're not meant to necessarily feel good about it. Her actions freed slaves and toppled an oppressive government: objectively good! Her actions did also create child soldiers and result in half a million deaths: objectively bad. Reducing whether this was a good thing or not to the number of lives "created" and lost leaves...a bad taste in the mouth, I feel. Like, did Toshusai intentionally give weapons to the kids with the intention of creating an uprising? It doesn't sound like it, it sounds like she was asked to create a weapon a child could use, and then it happened to end up in the hands of children who needed liberation

Intention and consequence are only linked via action and otherwise have no bearing on each other; whatever Toshusai wanted to happen when she made the Gun Eye is irrelevant, the fact of the matter is that people died because of a weapon she created, at least that's how she sees it. Even if she did liberate slaves, it's not like she's a revolutionary who carefully planned out how to save them, she was a child who made a toy that was lethal. A weapon's purpose is to kill, a sentiment that I've surprisingly seen crop up a lot in Jump lately, and Toshusai knows that the only outcome that was ever going to come of making the Gun Eyes was that people would die

Of course, how Toshusai sees herself and how everyone else in the story sees her is only part of the equation - the rest is how the fans see her. Is she a liberator or a death dealer? Which is more important, the right to freedom or the right to security? I have my opinions on the matter, but I can't claim that my opinion is the objective correct one or that other readers will feel the same

I'm still endeared to Toshusai and I still like her as a major lead; she did something that helped people, but through a method that she resents, both because there might have been a way to bring about a peaceful resolution and because even if there wasn't, the presence of that method now means that more people are in danger in the long run. Even if the child revolution was a net gain of life and personhood, the Gun Eyes still exist and are still put in the hands of children, and probably not to overthrow their oppressors. Toshusai means to fix that mistake and prevent any further deaths by any means necessary, and that's a goal I can respect

#cipher academy #fouryearsandananime #4y1a reviews

[prettyoddfever]

do you support brendon ?

Yes.

The yes/no answer isn’t as simple as it should be because the concept of “supporting Brendon” seems to be currently tied into a whole alternate reality that’s based on a whole mess of misunderstandings, rumors, lies, and other things that I don’t even know much about. I have next to no background info about events after 2010, so I can’t begin to pick out what might or might not be true. But the parts I’ve seen people talking about that do involve years I’m familiar with (anything before 2010) come from such a wildly misinformed alternate reality that the info basically only serves as a red flag to show how little those people actually know about the entire topic they’re speculating over. If their understanding of the pre-split band is so minimal that they truly believe some of the things they’re saying, then I’m not really inclined to trust their critical thinking skills about later years either lol. A lot of the other commentary I’ve seen about 2005-2009 basically just tells me that people are willing to take a topic they know next to nothing about, speculate over it in an echo chamber, feel validated because the internet appears to share their perspective, and then treat it like fact.

Some of the other current condemnation of Brendon seems to be coming from people who were born after 1991 and weren’t teenagers at the same time as Brendon. There’s a definite generational gap happening here in the perception of some events, so just bear with me while I go off on a tangent that might be relevant:

My generation is largely a product of the entertainment & culture we were fed at every angle.… not the masterminds of it. We were not born as inherently horrible people. The 2000s were fun at times and I’m nostalgic for a lot of aspects, but I also have to balance that nostalgia with the understanding that the culture was truly shitty in a lot of ways and pretty much only respected straight white cis men (but I feel like they were still harmed too in a strange way since they were taught a lot of toxic behaviors & mindsets). On a slightly related note: I went to film school for a year in 2008 and we were legit told that a Hollywood screenplay needed to have its target audience be “18-to-25-year-old white men.” None of my teachers were white (and very few were men), but that was still the rule… and my teachers acted like that was just how the world worked and you should roll with it if you wanted to have a job. I remember wondering if 18-to-25-year-old white men naturally wanted such a specific type of humor & content, or if Hollywood had taught them to want it in the first place. I went into more detail in this post too about how the culture in the early 2000s was toxic for teen girls and taught us to treat each other horribly.

Modern teen culture seems more individualistic than the teen culture that Brendon & I grew up in. These days people might view a comment that you make as a reflection of who you are, but back then it felt more like we mostly tried to conform to a handful of acceptable images and their expected norms. Your comments & actions gave away whether or not you were a poser... they were a reflection of how well you could fit into a specific group. Strangers, other kids at school, and corporations didn’t give a crap about you (and certainly not your “authentic self” lol). Based on conversations over the past decade with a lot of friends from all over the country, it felt like there was a small box of what was normal/acceptable in the early 2000s and most of us just tried to conform to that for the sake of not being bullied. I’d argue that the kids who went outside of that box of “normal” (ex: goth, emo, Avril Lavigne wannabes, etc) either still tried to conform to their group and were vicious about calling out posers, or else their identity was grounded in the fact that they were not conforming… which only reinforces how the overall culture was something that people were expected to generally conform to. (Ok side tangent: I don’t know how to categorize that large group of kids at every school who just wore colorful sneakers, flared jeans, some kind of unisex graphic tee that was probably for a band or from a school activity, hoodies, and maybe got chunky highlights in their hair but nothing too wild. They fit in but didn’t try too hard. Anyways, their personality or sense of humor usually still matched what was common/“normal”). In my own experience, it really wasn’t that hard to be popular back then (and thereby safe). You just wore the right clothes & hairstyle and adopted a personality & sense of humor that matched what people expected… and suppressed almost every aspect of yourself in the process lol. Nobody talked about mental health when I was in high school, but I’m positive that everyone I knew wasn’t as fine as we all pretended to be.

side note: when I talk about the “2000s” I’m mostly focusing on 2000-2006. I think the fashion, music, and culture in 2008 slowly shifts to feel more like the early 2010s. By 2008 tween magazines had also significantly cut back on the content that basically bullied female celebrities. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that our culture started changing once sites like Tumblr & Twitter gained momentum throughout 2009 and people could access alternative views & ideas and converse with the world at large instead of the small bubble of people who already shared your interests on a specific forum. I don’t know how to phrase this, but there was a definite shift once ordinary people could direct the conversation online and could make their voices heard instead of just consuming the culture that was given to them. I’m not sure that teens these days fully grasp what the world was like before everyone was so connected… even just the concept of having internet and a cell phone in 2004 was very different from what that meant by 2007.

Teen culture was largely dictated to us by the media back then (in magazines, tv, MTV, movies, and other similar avenues that didn't have the ability for true dialogue or for their audience to have their voices heard regularly. There weren’t many decent books for teens, though, so we couldn’t even learn about diverse worldviews that way. Twilight eventually showed the publishing industry that young adults could be a very profitable niche, but it took many years to get the YA industry to what it is now. Also, the drama in YA books back then was like some white girl from a middle class family was anxious her classmates might discover she was “poor” and a poser, or whatever generic nonsense). Anyways, media showed us what to aspire to – we did not matter as individuals. These days there’s a much wider range of sources you can turn to for inspiration & ideas, and it doesn’t really feel like there’s some kind of overall homogeneous culture being dictated anymore. Social media has more power than a print magazine talking about last month’s events ever could (I know that algorithms mess with stuff and corporations buy out influencers etc, so I’m not saying that everything is perfect or trying to analyze anything on an intricate level here. I’m just pointing out how the channels that we get information through have expanded significantly since 2006… and I feel like that’s weakened the ability of the media & corporations to shape our culture or dictate what’s “normal” in the same way that they did in 2003. We have so many alternative options now and can easily see other ways of thinking or living… and sometimes just being able to actually see so many people who support a certain idea helps us critically examine our own understandings). Advertising also seems to have made a shift towards treating the individual more like an actual person (ex: the whole self-care trend). There’s also an amazing push for diversity & inclusion that celebrates the individual. There are so many aesthetics for your personal style, and people seem way more into authenticity and creating their own image via social media. So I think teens growing up in this culture might expect Brendon’s comments to be a reflection of his personal core values & authentic self, but I see them as a clear reflection of the culture he worked really hard to conform to. Obviously it’s still wrong to make those types of comments either way. But understanding where they come from & the motivation behind them can make a difference in how you view Brendon.

I really want to emphasize that some kids in my generation worked extra hard to conform for the sake of safety. There’s a strong push now to condemn bullying, but back then bullying was often treated as an unfortunate but inevitable part of society (and in my own experience, it felt like the bullies were almost celebrated… like many adults were proud of them for basically winning at life). My middle school certainly took a blame-the-victim approach or just didn’t care. It never even occurred to me to tell a teacher about the constant sexual harassment that many sophomore girls endured from the senior boys in our math class because it all seemed so completely normal to me. All of the schools I attended had pretty much the same advice about harassment & bullying: just ignore it… if you don’t give them the satisfaction of a response then they’ll move along (supposedly). Wearing a tshirt that says “it’s cool to be kind” in 2004 would have basically been like taping a target onto yourself and “asking for it,” but I’ve seen those shirts for sale in recent years (and felt a surge of terror for the poor child who might be caught in one before I remembered that things might be different now). Obviously bullying is still a problem today, but society’s overall attitude towards it has changed so much that I don’t know if today’s teens fully understand the environment that pushed a lot of us to try to fit in so hard. Some kids back then made it through high school just fine without changing much about themselves, but a lot of us learned to make ourselves the smallest target possible by fitting in with a group as much as we could. That applies to more than just high school, too. Marketing & the media basically thrived on creating a very narrow group of people who were “in” and then everyone else was a target to scorn or mock as they scrambled to pass for whatever was deemed acceptable that year.

The people I know in my own life who are having a harder time fully letting go of harmful ingrained behaviors & phrases are the kids who were bullied, didn’t have many friends in high school, were autistic, or for whatever other reason worked harder to practically memorize the social norms and “rules” of fitting in & being acceptable, or at least staying safe. It just seems obvious to me that Brendon would’ve been one of those kids. If you paid even the slightest attention to the pre-split band, you’d know that Brendon visibly strived to be likable and good enough. I have honestly never seen someone try so incredibly hard. He was almost desperate at times with his eagerness for acceptance & approval from the other guys in the band. Brendon also talked a lot about how he didn’t have many friends in high school… kids were generally not very kind to him. Brendon was “weird” with his ADHD and didn’t fit into what was considered normal. He tried hard to be funny. He also had the exact personality & mannerisms that my friends and I had even though he went to high school thousands of miles away from us. He was such a typical teen in 2005.

Any comment that Brendon might have made over a decade ago about wanting to rape a crowd would have sounded like a completely normal enthuastic/affectionate statement to anyone who was in high school in 2002-2005 (like Brendon). I’m not sure if people are trying to turn the cultural norms of a future decade into the status quo of the past or why they’re pointing out that moment, but obviously a comment like that wouldn’t be a literal statement (the fact that I even need to explain that feels so strange). Back then, screaming that you want to rape someone was largely a sign of affection. Running down the school hallway and yelling “Anna just raped me!” meant that she tackle-hugged you with affection. Yes, it’s a truly disgusting thing to say… but it’s not like a single one of us came up with that phrase on our own. We’re just a product of our generation. As another example, Brendon saying “I’m going to f— you, I don’t even care if you want it” to a crowd would be completely playing into what the crowds had largely screamed enthusiastically about for so many years. Again, I don’t see this as something like Brendon’s true thoughts coming out whatsoever… I see it as him stepping into a role onstage and playing into an image that he thought/knew people wanted.

I’ve seen some recent screenshots of people who have concluded that the only way that the “n-word” could possibly casually slip out of Brendon’s mouth is if he’s such a deep-rooted racist that his thoughts are just like that normally. And that kind of conclusion only reveals a staggering lack of understanding about the world that Brendon grew up in. People said the n-word all the time to be casually cool when I was in high school without thinking critically about what they were even saying. The motivation there came purely out of a desire to fit into the culture of that era (ex: Paris Hilton said it lots). I went to a high school that was like 98% white and kids would greet each other with “sup my n––“ all the time. Idk why everyone threw up gang signs for pictures either or tried to “talk ghetto” randomly (their phrase, not mine).  

update: let me make this clearer with an example. Brendon said the n-word while singing the lyrics to a song. Some people seem to think that the fact that he didn’t hesitate must automatically mean that he’s just SO racist that the word feels normal to him. You’re projecting current cultural norms onto Brendon when you assume that he grew up with the same conditioning you have. I’m not saying that Brendon shouldn’t be held to those norms! The effect of his action is the same regardless of the cause... but wow people are certainly misunderstanding the cause. When Brendon & I were teenagers it would’ve been completely normal to say that word and sing those lyrics. Right now the word is obviously wrong to say, so you’d currently expect someone to hesitate or avoid the word altogether. But that is literally the opposite of the world that Brendon grew up in.

Anything that people didn’t like back then was labelled “gay,” “homo,” or “retarded.” I remember a short season where some kids were saying “that’s so Asian” instead of “that’s so stupid.” I think one kid from my school just heard the phrase somewhere and other kids automatically repeated it without thinking so they could be cool & prove that they were still fitting in. Yes, it’s obviously a major form of privilege to be clueless that what you’re saying is racist and/or harmful and has an actual impact. The driving need to fit in, not expose yourself as a target, and just survive high school sadly wasn’t particularly conducive to questioning social norms back then. I’m glad that social pressure is shifting these days so that it’s cool to care, to speak up, or to examine how others are affected by our words & actions, but back then it was like the opposite.

Common phrases and the main culture’s sense of humor back then confused me because the racist, sexist, homophobic, and generally mean comments didn’t seem very funny to me, but I just figured that something was wrong with me… so I worked extra hard to learn when to laugh at the correct times so I would seem normal. A lot of the humor and popular phrases back then were just inherently cruel & harmful. It’s not like people were never aware of that fact either… it’s more like being incredibly mean was often supposed to be funny? And if you were hurt by it, then people acted like you just needed to grow a thicker skin and lighten up.

There are obviously SO many things wrong with the stuff I just mentioned, and the fact that “most people did it” doesn’t excuse anything or make it any more acceptable now. But it’s going to take time & patience to help some people in my generation unravel the truly messed up culture that permeated almost every aspect of our lives. For some people, it might take a bit longer to shake that learned “cool” armor and condition themselves to a new normal (especially if they’re still hanging around someone else who’s stuck in the past). Obviously some people are just racists who don’t want to change, but I believe (or hope) that most of my generation would’ve never done those sorts of things if we were privileged enough to grow up with today’s type of internet. Our society absolutely still has a long way to go, but I hope that today’s teens can balance that knowledge with the understanding that my generation started from a very different place than they started from. We’re not the ones who created the culture of the early 2000s. We were just kids who grew up pressured to conform to the narrow world we knew. Yes, that culture is truly disgusting and inexcusable in hindsight. So cancel that culture then and help people recover & grow past that. There’s enough hatred in the world already without you adding to that. It seems like some people are getting a sense of power out of creating a mob verdict these days and almost celebrating their attempts to destroy Brendon. It’s strange to see people treat others terribly in the name of supposedly crushing hateful behavior.

At the same time I know that ignorant comments harm a lot of people, and that shouldn’t be a secondary concern that’s less important than helping my generation learn/change/grow. So I don’t have any answers here. I’m not happy with the culture I was raised in and I don’t want to turn my back on people my age who are still working on shedding that. Obviously nothing is as clear-cut or simplistic as people might want to make it seem. By continuing to support people who might have harmed others, am I automatically discounting those who have been harmed? Can’t you help both sides heal and care about them both? I’m still figuring things out. Also, if I dropped everyone in my life who had seriously messed up, I would literally be alone because we are all flawed humans. It’s not like I’m tolerating unacceptable behavior out of some self-serving desire to never be alone, either… the point is that I care about those people, so I want to try to help them succeed in life if they’re willing (and if it’s safe). Forgiveness is not even remotely the same thing as dismissing someone’s actions btw. It’s seeing a human who is more than their mistakes, trying to understand that person, and choosing to love them & support them as they grow. But I respect other people who might choose differently.

What’s important to me is that Brendon genuinely seems like he wants to do better and truly cares about other people. He’s shown that over & over with his actions. You can unfollow or hate me for not canceling Brendon if you’d like, but I’m glad that I refused to turn on Ryan in 2009 and kept an open mind there (that whole situation is a bit similar). Hopefully I’ll feel the same way as I continue to support Brendon.

side tangent: I worry about Jon Walker sometimes. He’s been put on this pedestal of being a perfect guy who is unproblematic, so his current identity would just be wiped out if he does one thing wrong. Too many people seem to hold up a celebrity as some sort of god, place part of their identity in him, and then lash out when it turns out that he’s actually a flawed human who didn’t reflect the image that they wanted for themselves.

Some aspects of teen culture haven’t changed tbh. Kids are still waiting for you to screw up by breaking social norms so they can gang up on you and ostracize you. It’s awesome that the expected social norms are shifting towards normalizing kindness & inclusion instead of the negative stuff from the 2000s that was basically the opposite. But it’s truly strange the way that some people these days are acting like attacking & harassing a person who’s been deemed worthy of cancelling (or their fans) somehow makes them righteous. It’s still cowardly cyberbullying. I’m paraphrasing a friend here, but at least teens in my generation largely owned the fact that they were being mean. Cyberbullying was sometimes a bonding activity for teens in the 2000s and it seems like not much has changed in that regard. Obviously it’s perfectly ok to dislike someone… you are free to have whatever opinions you want about Brendon. But bonding with other people by bullying Brendon & his fans seems so toxic. Your common interest is literally hatred. And some people just seem overly excited to have an excuse to go full steam ahead with the hatred they seem to have been determined to aim at Brendon no matter what.

I don’t think Brendon’s silence over the past couple years is “deafening,” damning, or in any way strange. All four band members were trained by their PR team to stay silent and carry on through most rumors in 2006-2009. I know there’s a totally different situation in our culture now where people have way better access to celebrities online, but I still think it’s odd to expect Brendon to publicly acknowledge online rumors. That’s a dumb PR move that only draws further attention to what’s being said. It might feel like thousands of people are already talking about it, but that’s nothing compared to what media coverage of an actual statement would generate (ex: compare what fans were saying about Ryan’s possible cocaine picture in April 2009 to what countless people were talking about after Ryan actually addressed the cocaine picture from July 2009… the fact that it became “the cocaine picture” says enough. Ryan’s statement to MTV didn’t even matter to the fans who were convinced he was a drug addict whose life was spiraling out of control, but it certainly drew outside attention to the rumors about Ryan and what the fandom had been saying. I’d also argue that it contributed to some media perception of Ryan moving forward). Or look at how the Brent situation was just a fandom meltdown & normal news until it spun out of control with the band’s statements to the media and escalated into a total headache. Making a public statement on a large platform usually isn’t the best way to end rumors.

Brendon already did make a statement in November 2020, though. And I saw so many people brush that off. So would anyone even care what Brendon had to say or believe him if he bothered to further “break his silence”? Or would everyone just brush Brendon’s comments aside and say that they still know the “truth” no matter what? I mean, just look at how people currently treat the band’s split. All four guys (plus all of the people surrounding the band) made countless comments that all explained the exact same thing that fans had been observing for years at that point. The split made complete sense to me and was a reallllly long time coming, yet kids today seem to ignore basically everything about the irl band and would rather believe whatever drama they invent on their own. 

I don’t know how Brendon can even start to address some of the allegations when they’re so grounded in an alternate reality/perception of both him & the band. Is he supposed to sit down and give people a history lesson of the actual dynamics of the early band or culture in the 2000s?? If he didn’t spend literal hours explaining the basic history that people are clearly lacking, would they even believe his claims that something isn’t true, or would they just dismiss it because it conflicts with the reality that everyone in their bubble shares? It seems futile for him to even begin to craft any sort of statement. People have already shown that they are determined to hate Brendon & tear him apart no matter what. In early 2020 Brendon seemed like a puppet who was dancing around trying to placate the section of the internet that hates him, yet people still ignored his genuine attempts to do better, ignored whatever apologies or explanations he made on Twitch, and kept harassing him & his fans. He definitely couldn’t win then, so why would one more statement now make any difference? If you walk away from an abusive situation, that’s not suspicious or a sign of weakness on your part. I think it’s healthy that Brendon could distance himself from everything.

Also: if you can look back to 2011 for examples of things to cancel Brendon for, then why do other Decaydance band members get away with things they said & did in 2006-2008? It’s like that one girl who went to jail for downloading music from Limewire… it was weird that she got singled out and had to face extreme consequences for actions that a good chunk of her generation did too (except maybe that’s not the best analogy because most of us could spot that stealing music was wrong even if people still went ahead with it). It’s just so strange to see people act like Brendon is the antichrist while the rest of his peers are fine nbd. There also seems to be a double standard with how some fans treat Ryan vs Brendon now. They’ll work hard to justify anything Ryan’s done and point out how he’s been through a lot with people treating him like crap. That scenario should absolutely apply to Brendon too, yet those people hold him to an entirely different standard for some reason. A lot of the people I’ve seen who are very anti-Brendon seem to have a loose understanding of the band’s pre-split years. They also tend to act like they need to be against Brendon in order to support Ryan now as though those two are somehow connected in a strange sort of seesaw where you’re automatically raising one side by lowering the other. Ryan and Brendon are very different, separate people who are both flawed humans. It’s totally possible to support them both.

Some of the perceptions people currently have of the band in 2005-2009 essentially take away Ryan’s agency, turn him into a passive victim, erase his creative vision & goals, infantilize him, and basically ignore him and what he actually wanted. You’re not doing Ryan any favors by erasing him & replacing him with your own creation. When you try to claim that Ryan left P!ATD because Brendon was some kind of horrible person, then you erase the real people, years of context, and basically do yourself an injustice because you’re so absorbed in an alternate reality that you’re missing out on knowing about the real-life band. I understand that people are more likely to be invested in a storyline that they connect with emotionally, so reality might seem less interesting in comparison to what they’re inventing through speculation with their friends… but you can’t actually rewrite history. Claiming that it’s “impossible to know everything” about the pre-split band also isn’t an excuse to validate whatever story you want to invent. These events did not happen that long ago lol... I wasn’t in high school during some kind of prehistoric culture that’s been lost to time. If you feel like there’s a mystery to solve about the early band, then that’s a problem with your knowledge... not the actual band. Most of the fake stories that people currently believe about pre-split Panic would never seem plausible if you had even the most basic understanding of the band during that time period (and the same thing goes for a lot of the current claims against younger Brendon... like if you had some basic context for those years then you’d just roll your eyes at how some teens today actually think that the “Lana Jade letter” was serious/real).

When I first got back into the fandom in 2020 I started to reconfigure my understanding of the early band to match what a couple fans were telling me since I hadn’t thought about P!ATD much in like a decade and it seemed smarter to trust people who had been in the fandom in recent years. For a few months in mid-2020 I was ready to believe anything about Brendon since the reality I remembered didn’t match up with the narratives I was being told. Then I slowly figured out that one of the girls I was talking to was a compulsive liar, the other girls meant well but were very misinformed, and the current fandom is basically a mess that I don’t want much to do with. So now I’m just using this account to focus on the early eras as I knew them. That doesn’t mean that I’m ignoring the post-split years because of any opinion about them (I don’t know them well enough to even form an opinion tbh). It’s rather depressing for me to look at current stuff & see how much the guys have aged because then I can really see how much of my life went by while I was sick for a decade. So my decision to keep my head mostly buried in 2005-2009 is just my method of coping right now... there is no statement there about the modern band or anything. I still support Brendon, Ryan, Spencer, & Jon as individual people and hope they’re doing well! I'm definitely curious to see whatever they might be working on, but I'm not particularly interested in getting too involved in the modern fandom right now.

#brendon urie

[enigmaincrimson-personal]

Still awake. That's not good.

Not doing great in the mental sense. No idea how to describe.

Not like people have not told me that I am a waste of space as is.

I don't write enough for their liking. It's my fault they don't get enough.

Little better than a parasite.

I hurt people, I have no worth.

Everything is so silent and darkness beckons, but I can only linger.

Wish for hope, cannot trust the help... So many failed promises and knives in the back.

I do not know how to articulate, so many masks made to hide behind... To obscure the pain inside.

I remain silent in fear and worry, I wait and ramble on the same.

Left to my thoughts, I am alone... Little else to do, to recollect what I had was lost and what could have been.

My crimes are said as many, to which I have no defence, no alibi, nor testimony.

How can one argue with an angry mob, a rabid dog, frothing together and ready with the rope.

They blame the rock for breaking the church window, an act of which it had no true motive or inclination.

There is very little one can argue when the judgement had already been cast. No trial was made, only the executioners with their axes.

There is no defence that can be made, what little evidence twisted beyond recognition... Villain I am, so a villain I must be.

Everything I do is now an act of utmost evil... Small things, easily resolved... Now an attack on moral fiber, regardless of if I had any real connection.

Tumblr, like people, is full of flaws and quirks that why understand... Why must I be to blame?

I send one, it becomes five, your message box is unattended, your friends do not send, it's been half a year... full of cobwebs and eaten letters. Yet only I remain and if that they complained.

They asked for a start, one which I provided, yet little was returned, I attempted a discussion, I tried and waited, but no response was given til months had passed, vaue statements were given. They told me that was worthless and no value for their time, over a thread they asked for with no context or reply.

Another, on a day like any other... One came with an accusation, of theft of another. They send message after message, blaming me for their poor state... Yet I can only look on in confusion as they I do not know.

I once offered aid to one who was harassed, they demanded more than I could offer, something that must be refused. They could not comprehend my reason, insisted that I did the horrible deed, and when I told their friends they needed help and walked away, accused me of stalking.

I once met a soul who said they had no rules, their every thread starts from the beginning. I asked them "Sir, could I suggest a plot, so we could discuss, where to continue from here?" And what I would get is nothing but the start, over and over again.

I know that I am not perfect, let alone what I am doing most of the time, and maybe a bunch of popular people decided that I was behind all the evil things going on with Tumblr and basically made it one of their obsessions to get rid of me for that reason... Which really isn't the first or last time that's happened.

Generally, I feel frustrated and disappointed with these people more than anything. Like... I get that you don't like this person because they can't draw and you don't like the color red this Tuesday, but basically demanding the death penalty over it isn't just petty, it's excessive.

I mean, how would you feel if people siddenly tried to murder you because you are allergic to peanut butter and refused to eat any? And if they couldn't kill you or force you to do what they want, started treating you like you were dead?

The fact that you can't have peanut butter because it would kill you is out of your control, but everyone has decided that you are lying about your allergy is trying to force you to eat peanut butter, shun you from everything, or outright murder you becaise they took offense to you not being able to eat peanut butter.

You eventually start wondering if the peanut butter obsessed people will ever leave you alone, but it's not something that is ever going to happen. If they can't execute you for your crimes against peanut butter, then they will do everything in their power to make sure you wish you had been.

Not liking or being able to eat peanut butter isn't exactly a crime or even a moral issue, but they'll sure make it sound that way to anyone unfortunate enough to be forced to hear it.

Seriously though, I don't know how to articulate it... Other than it's a really stupid mess.

#enigmaincrimson #ooc

[starbuck]

Am I missing something or like... where do people get Years of time out of the ‘present’ Black Sails timeline?

Does the entire show not take place over Spring/Summer, 1715 to Winter, 1716? Which leaves us with something like 9-10 months total?

#I’m CERTAIN people with more knowledge than me have discussed this before so I’m super interested in what others have to say #ik that this throws historical accuracy out the window re: the dates but since when is the show concerned with that? #s1 is honestly the most confusing since it’s supposedly Easter (so March/April) but then at the start of s2 it’s suddenly June #so that’s why I say Spring/Summer for the beginning... I tend to mentally split the difference and call it May #with its having made its way to June by the time we get an actual date in... 2.03 I believe? #(there are still like... Technically issues with that but the Easter shit is sexy re: resurrection imagery so I don’t really care) #if Common Loons can be in Charles Town in July then Easter can be in late May I don’t give a shit #but back to the point #s2 goes by pretty quick so it’s presumably still June/early July by the end #and then we get the timeskip between seasons 2&3 which is vaguely referred to as ‘months’ #so I tend to take that as about three months which puts us around October #and then 3.01-3.05 take about a month on their own since they were becalmed for three weeks in 3.03 #so now we’re in November #just in time for Jack’s line in 3.06 that he intends to have shaken English control from Nassau ‘by Christmas’ #so it’s November-ish for the second half of the season which goes by comparatively quicker #and then I Think the timeskip between seasons 3&4 is something like two months? #I feel inclined to argue for more but I feel boxed in by the fact that it’s Winter in Philly in the second half of s4 #and the first half alone takes at least three weeks to a month #so for it to still be That Snowy in Philly dates it to February imo #and so we close out in February/March #that’s my understanding of the timeline #I might be slightly off with the length of timeskips/how long individual seasons take but as far as the bookends go I’m solid #but I have heard people mention Years of time and it makes me feel like I’ve missed something so please help me lol #between this and the Terror timeline... istg I don’t have a Thing about timelines - I don’t care THAT much about accuracy #I just like to have things in context when considering character arcs and months vs. years makes a big difference to me

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

From Eden: Three

Warnings: noncon sexual acts, mentions of mental illness, grieving, trauma, panic attack; tags to be added throughout series

This is dark!Bucky. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The mc suffers from agoraphobia. After a new neighbour moves in across the street, her home becomes even more of a prison.

Note: I know it’s been a while...

Thank you so much for your patience! And support!!

As always, if you are so inclined, please like, reblog, and comment. <3

Transcript:

Sunday

When Dr. Tisha and Lorena left last night, they were still angry with me. I didn’t care much as both of them lectured me again over that man. I told them the same things I had before. I don’t want to know him.

 They suggested at least that I save the money I made for a day out. Lorena said it would be good for me to try to go into town and do some shopping myself, for myself. The thought made me choke but I just smiled and said, “we’ll see.”

 Now I’m awake, early again. I keep hearing things in the yard. I tell myself it’s a raccoon or something else, maybe even a bat! One got in the house last year and I locked myself in the bathroom until I was brave enough to grab the broom and chase it out. Looking back, it’s sort of funny.

I looked out the window but I just saw shadows that made me nervous. The bird bath was eerie in the dark and the shed looked decrepit. I thought I saw something move along the wall but I’m sure it’s only me being tired.

 I did try to go back to sleep but then I started thinking about things I haven’t thought of in a long time. About the things I told Tisha I never want to think or talk about ever again. 

Then I thought about grandma and mama. Why did they have to leave me?

Later

I was in the garden when it started to rain. It started with a big crack of thunder and I almost screamed at how scary it was. It came so fast I barely got inside before I was soaked through. Then I giggled at myself as I stripped out of my muddy jeans and wet tee shirt.

When I was a kid, I used to love to dance out in the rain, or just stand and let it wash over me. When my mother died, it stormed and I sat in the downpour until I got sick. The drops hid my tears and numbed the pain of that lonely ten-year-old. I’m older now but sometimes I still feel like a kid.

 I watched the sky darken through the window and the smell of the rain in the dirt was comforting. I made tea and kept watching. The sky would flash, a cacophony of awe, and I felt as if I was living in an old Hitchcockian shot. I liked to think there was a camera there to catch the perfectly framed scene, the frightening and frantic swell of the storm that reflected the suspense of the human catastrophe about to take place.

 Then the horror was no longer just in my mind. I cleaned my cup and turned. As I passed through the dark hall I saw a shadow flash at the window of the door. I gasped and rushed forward to check the latch but the figure was gone. I peeked out and there was nothing.

 Now I’m still awake and I think I just got carried away with my imagination. I’m watching The Wizard of Oz but the colours aren’t as bright as they used to be. At least, they don’t seem like it.

🖊

Monday

I don’t remember falling asleep. It must’ve been late, or early depending how you look at it. I woke up to the blue screen as the VCR had stopped and rewound the tape. It was still dark, the sky hungover from the wild night.

 I made blueberry tea. It was too sweet after I let it steep for too long. I watched the morning birds bask in the full bird bath and slowly the sun began to shine down. It’s brighter now and I’m going to try to fix the shed window.

🖊

Tuesday

I couldn’t write anymore yesterday. Not after what happened.

I can’t.

🖊

Wednesday

I 

On Monday, I

He was here.

 I was hammering the board back into place and I hit my finger into the nail. The metal left a painful blister and my knuckle split and bled. I cried out and dropped the hammer as I held my hand and tried not to tear up.

“You alright?” he asked and I looked at him, afraid.

He was at the gate. Had he been there, watching me? I nodded and wrinkled my nose in pain. I couldn’t bend the top of my finger. I hid my hand and left the mess on the ground as I rushed to the front door to hide inside.

“Hey,” he called as I whimpered, dumbly trying to turn the handle with my hurt hand, “you’re hurt. I can help.”

 I shook my head as my finger throbbed. I looked at it and cringed. It was really bad.

“I just want to help.”

“Why are you here?” I watched the door creak open and didn’t look back at him, “why are you bugging me?”

“I was just walking by and I heard you,” he said, “I know how to set your finger… or I can take you to the hospital.”

I didn’t want to go to a hospital. The thought makes my stomach hurt. I hate hospitals.

“I can deal with it.”

“You’re bleeding a lot,” he insisted and I was getting really annoyed.

“What do you care?” I don’t understand him or why he kept bothering me and hanging around my gate!

“Well, I won’t lie to you, your friend, Tisha, she told me to keep an eye on you,” he said through the bars, “so yes, I was watching you.”

“She’s not… not my friend,” I was so angry. Why would she do that!? She doesn’t even know him, I don’t know him, “she’s my doctor.”

“Can I help you with your finger? I’ll stop watching but you need to get it set and soon.”

“I don’t care. I got nine others.” I was mean and didn't care.

“Then I can call your doctor? She gave me her number in case--”

“No, no,” he couldn’t call her. She’d be mad at you and she’d make you go to the hospital, “don’t call her, please. Just… stay here.”

 I went inside and with one hand, I searched under the counter for the dinged old white chest. I pulled it out by the thin metal handle and went back outside. The way he watched me made me nervous even though he was so calm.

“If I let you in, you have to leave right after,” I said as fearsomely as I could, “and this is the only time you’re ever coming in.”

“You’re shaking really bad, that must hurt,” he looked at my hand and ignored my warning.

“Do you get it!? You have to promise to leave after.”

“Sure, just let me help,” he nodded.

 unlocked the gate and slowly opened it for him. We sat at the patio table as he searched through the old box of first aid gear. He took out gauze and found two straight sticks from the garden. He tested their strength and sat back down.

“Give me your hand,” he said.

 I reluctantly put my hand on the table and hissed at the pain in my finger. He cleaned it carefully and I looked away as he went about his task. It hurt less not seeing it. When he finished wrapping it up, I pulled away and stood.

“Good, now go,” I pointed to the gate.

“That won’t be good for more than a day,” he stood, “I have some real splints at my house. I could come back-”

“I told you, no,” you jabbed your hand towards the gate, “out.”

He was quiet and he looked around. His jaw set as he considered the thick garden and his eyes narrowed.

“The flowers are doing good,” he said.

“Please, leave,” I begged, he was making me nervous. 

I was still shaking but not from the pain. I remembered that night, it wasn’t just one, it was several, and they laughed as they stood over me. They were smaller than him, just teenagers, like me, but they still hurt me.

“Go!” I shouted, “go! Go! Go!”

 He grabbed my shoulders as I began to hyperventilate. I hadn’t been so worked up in a long time and I could stop as the fit began. I chanted the word over and over as my body shook so violently and my voice became only deep and painful breaths. My chest burned so bad.

 I didn’t remember what happened after that. I only remember him in my house. I was on the couch and Dr. Tisha was there too. 

When I could speak again, I asked her to make him go. She ignored me and said that he helped me, that he had kept me safe by calling her. 

 But I saw his smile and how he looks at me. I saw the way he paced around the house and noted every inch of it. I watched him as Tisha fed me chamomile tea.

 She didn’t want to leave me alone, she said. She thought I should go to the hospital for my finger and for a mental evaluation. I sucked up the panic in my chest and told her I was okay, that I remembered the exercises and it wouldn’t happen again. I could tell she didn’t really believe me.

“I’ll stay with her,” Bucky offered and my eyes rounded.

“I’ll be fine,” I told Tisha before she could respond.

“You’re not fine,” she said, “in good conscience, if you won’t go to the hospital, I need someone here to monitor you.”

“Lorena--”

“She’s off-the-clock. I can’t expect her to come here right now, she has other clients.”

 I frowned and crossed my arms and crushed my injured finger, “why can’t you stay?”

“Well, I left a session for this and I have others waiting on me. I would stay if it was an option. Listen,” she sat and spoke to me like I was a child, “this man is a public servant. He is a good man, in fact, I think he’s a lot like you. Now it would be wrong of me to go into detail about his experiences but I have it on good authority that he knows better than even me what you’re going through.”

 I shook my head and pouted, “I won’t hurt myself. Not again.”

“I wish I could believe you,” she said, “but recently you’ve shown some serious regression. If you keep arguing with me, I will be obligated to have you escorted to the hospital and kept for seventy-two hours...

Or Bucky can stay until Lorena comes by tomorrow and I can return.”

“I didn’t do anything. I got nervous.”

“I won’t ask again.”

“Fine, fine, he can stay,” I gave up. The thought of another hold at the hospital was enough to make me give in. I couldn’t do that again.

So Bucky stayed and I didn’t sleep. Again.

And I didn’t write and I can’t anymore. I don’t feel good.

🖊

Thursday

There’s a lot to catch up on but I don’t want to write about it. I never want to think about it again.

Bucky’s gone, Lorena and Tisha made their visit on Tuesday, and I’m fine.

I’m fine.

🖊

Friday

 feel him still. He’s watching me. I know he is! 

 He was in my house, he slept on my couch, he walked through my halls. I smell him still and it makes me sick.

 I see him through the gate, he doesn’t try to hide anymore. I called Tisha for my daily check-ins. I’m back to those again. I told her he was watching and she told me he was only concerned. She said I was exaggerating. She thinks I’m crazy!

 The walls used to protect me. I used to hide behind them but now I just feel trapped.

 He’s watching again. I see him through the window. He’s at the gate, his metal hand on the bar as he searches for me. I’m going away before he sees me. I’m turning out all the lights and locking the doors.

🖊

Saturday

The gate is broken again. The face of the lock fell off and one of the bars is bent through several others.

 The lower hinge is busted and I found footprints in the dirt. There are tulips missing from the garden, the pink ones. I got those bulbs from grandma, her last gift to me. I’m sad.

 The doors are still locked and all the curtains are closed. I can’t even turn on the TV.

Later

He was in the house! I know he was! The window to my bedroom was open and the blankets on my bed were all messed up. I woke up on the couch as I usually do. I feel asleep reading a book with only a candle. The candle was out and the pages of the book were bent.

 I got up to go to the bathroom. I felt weird. My shorts were damp with sweat. The house is so hot with the windows shut. I stopped when I noticed my bedroom was open, I always closed the door.

 It’s really hard to write because I’m still shaking. It wasn’t just the window or the blankets. There were pink tulips on my pillow. 

I know it’s him. He’s playing a game with me, a game I don’t like.

 I’m scared and I hear someone in the garden. I can’t remember if I locked my bedroom window. I was so afraid, I can’t remember.

I can’t remember.

I can’t~~

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #series #from eden #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #winter soldier #captain america #agoraphobia

[mggpleasedontlookhere]

pascal

summary: spencer has had a few late nights at work, which ultimately meant neglecting y/n and their baby. after he returns home, he attempts to console his child, only to find out that his son doesn’t recognize him

word count: 1887                                                                                      reading time aprox: 8 mins

masterlist

My muscles were in complete repose, my eyes began to flutter against the sudden weight that forced them to shut, and reality around me began to dissipate. I drew in a long breath as I let myself succumb to the peaceful atmosphere of mine and Spencer’s bedroom, the moonlight that crept through the window enhancing the serene ambiance.  

I felt the soft fabric of the duvet on the skin of my legs, pulling it over the entirety of my body as I drifted away into a well deserved slumber. Unfortunately, those plans were unmatched to the wails of my crying son in the nursery next to the bedroom. 

I groaned, clutching my head while disdainfully throwing myself up from the bed and dragging myself to where my son laid in distress. Walking into the quaint, but pastel colored room, my eyes landed on the clock above the cradle. Exhaustion infiltrated my every move and the fact that the clock read 2:48 am made the occasion less desirable. 

“Hey Pascal, hey buddy” I cooed, picking up the small infant that permeated the room with his blaring cries. It was Spencer’s idea to name him after his favorite French mathematician. At first, Spencer was definite on naming the baby Schrodinger after the Austrian physicist, which was followed by the explanation of Schrodinger’s cat and how that unveiled the misconceptions on Copenhagen’s theory of physics. Fortunately for me and the hospital, I was too busy in labor to retaliate by throwing him out of the hospital window for interrupting the birth of our first child with physics history. After a while of deliberation, we both agreed on the name Pascal.

“Shh, it’s okay baby, mommy’s got you” I reassured, laying him on my chest as I bounced on the heels of my feet while swaying side to side. I hummed the tune of Mozart’s Sonata No. 16, the melody subduing the child’s relentless howls as I placed him back into the cradle. I refolded the blanket that swaddled Pascal, tucking in any stray pieces that his tiny feet could slip out of. Finally, I walked over to a music box that rested on top of the baby’s dresser, winding it to play throughout the remainder of the night to encourage the baby’s slumber. 

I wish I could be in the same circumstances as Pascal, considering he had a means of going back to sleep. My preferred method was, yet again, staying late at the FBI headquarters in order to assist in a BAU case. 

It felt like the same night had been replaying over and over again for the past 2 weeks. I’d get up to soothe the baby, fall back asleep on a lonesome bed, then wake up to a man that would hurry back to work the second his eyes opened. Me and Spencer were becoming estranged, although my concern primarily derived from the possibility of our son not even recognizing his father. 

I stumbled back to my room, practically dragging my feet as I tediously made my way back to the comforting sensation of the bed. My entire body screamed for sedation, begging for rest, yet my mind raced with troublesome thoughts about my relationship with Spencer. 

My eyes shifted downwards to the emerald ring that Spencer had given me when he proposed. It was the same ring that his mother and grandmother had worn when they were ought to be betrothed. I slouched on the side of the bed, sliding the ring off of my finger and into the drawer of the nightstand and finally attempted to regain the will of maintaining a decent sleep schedule. 

Though with my luck, that was yet to happen due to a loud bang that engulfed the apartment, followed by a string of curse words from Spencer’s mouth. With the inclination to investigate battling against my debilitation. I hauled my entire body up off the bed once again to meet Spencer in the living room, where I was met with the view of a lanky boy clutching onto several books that were scattered on the wood floors. If I weren’t in an irritated disposition, I would’ve laughed at the scene displayed in front of me, instead I mustered up a small ‘welcome home’ as I squinted at him. 

“Hey Y/N, why are you still up?” He whispered, straddling the books he carried on his knee. 

I sighed, wiping the wrinkles off of my forehead. “I-I don’t know, Pascal woke up and I was, yeah- I was just trying to sleep, but he started crying” I explained, stumbling over my words as the fatigue clearly impeded my cognitive ability. 

“I’m sorry to hear that Y/N” He walked over to the table next to the door and placed the books back to where they were previously before heading over to the kitchen. “Why don’t you go back to sleep, love?” He suggested, reaching over the counter for the cappuccino machine. 

“You’re staying up?” I inquired, ignoring his proposal completely. He sifted through the cabinets to find his favorite Star Trek mug for his coffee, but struggled to locate it. “-third cabinet to the left” I interjected, putting him out of his misery. 

He nodded in gratitude, flashing me a tight lipped smile. “Yeah, I just have to finish the paperwork for some case files” He elaborated casually. 

I stood over the living room couch, setting myself down on the edge of the cushions as I observed Spencer’s movements. “Are you coming to bed Spence?” I crossed arms, resting my eyes while I continued to feebly converse with him. 

“Uhhhhh-” He prolonged his speech, deliberating on how he was going to answer the double edged question. “It’s a really long case Y/N, I’ll try to be in bed as soon as possible” He confessed, watching the steam rise from the coffee pot, indicating that his brew was almost done. 

“Okay” I replied monotonously, not having the energy to negotiate with Spencer’s unhealthy work habits. “Do you mind at least checking on the baby next time he gets fussy?” I rubbed the temples of my forehead, feeling a migraine begin to ensue. 

“Y/N I don’t think I can, I just have a lot to go over and Hotch is really on me for-” 

“Spencer, I understand it’s been a long night for me too” I gripped onto the throw pillows below me as my migraine intensified. “I just- my head’s kind hurting and I just need you to check up on Pascal once and in a wh-” 

“Y/N-” He began, pouring copious amounts of creamer into his cup of coffee. “I just need this night alone Y/N, and I really don’t think it’s a lot to ask” He justified, leaning on the counter behind him as he sipped on beverage. 

Frustration battled with the almost unbearable pounding in my head, grateful for the dimly lit room that blessed my sensitive eyes. “But Spencer, you’re barely here at home and Pascal needs his da-” 

“Yes, but his dad is out in the world, ridding it of all the bad guys that can cause harm to him” Spencer argued, an impatient tone evident behind his words. “Don’t I get any credit for that?” 

“Spencer, I’m not saying that-”

“Y/N I’m just having a long night, I need to spend it alone-” 

“Oh, just like me and Pascal do every night” I spat, gesturing to the nursery across the hall. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He interrogated, slamming his mug onto the coffee, but not forceful enough to spill the beverage. 

“Spencer, I’m really not trying to fight” I emphasized, forcing my eyes shut as I felt my head pulse. 

“Well, it seems like you are” Spencer scoffed, peering at me with an incredulous expression. “At least I’m supporting this household, what are you attributing to it?” He mocked, his voice elevating in volume. 

“Spencer, can we not get into that, I’m just saying that I wished you spent more time with Pascal” I admitted, my voice fading out into the darkness as I tried to limit my speech.

“Y/N, don’t you understand that-” 

“YES! I understand fully” I impulsively yelled in annoyance, regretting it afterwards with the thought of the baby in my conscience. 

Unfortunately the sound of my voice had permeated the poor child’s ears, sending him into a panicked frenzy of deafening cries. I groaned in exasperation, running my hands over my face in exhaustion as the crying fit ensued in the middle a heated argument. 

“God! See what you did now” Spencer complained, shaking his head as he made long strides towards the nursery. 

“Spence- I don’t think you want to do that” I warned, running along after him. “Spence he hasn’t seen you in a long time, I don’t think he’ll recog-” 

“He’s my son Y/N, I think he’ll recognize me” He jeered, mocking my apprehension. He entered into the small room with soft steps, reaching into the cradle with an amiable countenance before coddling the small human against his shoulders. Opposite to Spencer’s intentions, Pascal began to fuss in Spencer’s hold. He kicked and emitted loud screams, resisting against the foreign arms that were around him. 

“Spence-” I whispered, although my attempt to gain his attention fell through as he continued to care for Pascal. 

“Hey, it’s okay daddy’s he- hey no it’s- Pascal-” Spencer sputtered out, struggling against the infant writhing around on his shoulder. The lines were now apparent on Spencer’s forehead, indicating his exponentially growing frustration. 

“Spence, give him to me. I can-” I interjected, but was ultimately shut down by Spencer’s stubbornness. 

“I got this Y/N” He stated with determination. 

Although even with all his motivation and determination to sedate the small child, the results were dissatisfactory. “Come Pascal- come on buddy” Spencer cooed, now bouncing him side to side. Pascal’s cries engulfed the entire room, giving me a heart wrenching feeling due to my motherly instinct. 

A small part of me pitied Spencer’s attempts at reconnecting with his child as he found the results fruitless. By this point, his methods were futile; Pascal’s behavior becoming increasingly volatile. Instinctively I rushed over to Spencer, picking up Pascal in my arms. 

Without a second passing by, the infant had calmed down instantaneous. I bounced him side to side, similar to Spencer’s actions, and snuggled him into my chest. 

For a moment I caught Spencer’s gaze and what I saw was more than heartbreaking to witness. He looked at me and Pascal with a defeated look, but it wasn’t any ordinary defeated look, he seemed to be in utter despair. 

My frustration at him dissipated and was replaced by empathy as his eyes began to water in chagrin. Setting Pascal back into the cradle after he fell back asleep, I turned to face Spencer with a lamentable expression; only to find him gazing at his hands with indignation. 

“Spence” I whispered gently. Although without a second thought, he had rushed out of the room, grabbed his belongings, and left the apartment. 

I closed my eyes in disquietude, reminded of the migraine I had previously. I waddled back into the bedroom to cuddle into the bed sheets as I let my mind roam the forlorn thoughts that swirled around my head.

part 2

-

tag list: @rexorangecouny

part 2 tmrw

#spencer #spencer reid #Spencerreid #spencer reid icons #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid imagines #spencer x oc #spencer x reader #spencer x you #spencer x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #Matthew Gray Gubler #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler imagines #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fic

[dreamteamfanblog]

Okay to go into more detail on my last post (which claimed quackity was in the right for running against wilbur in the election and what schlatt did during his reign wasn’t quack’s fault) by going down a list of things that maybe could be blamed on Quackity and explaining why literally none of this was his fault.

1.) Running against Pog2020 in the first place was bad. 

Wilbur, quite frankly, needed to be pushed out of office. He was always corrupt, L’manburg started as a drug cartel and while it evolved into something more meaningful that had very little to do with Wilbur Soot, and Wilbur literally attempted to rig the election. Quackity ran against him as a direct protest against Wilbur Soot attempting to stage a one party election to consolidate his own power. Of course, Pog2020 in general isn’t a bad party, Tommyinnit is a very capable, passionate, devoted person and with the backing of Tubbo- who’s both intelligent and kind- there were some good solid leaders behind the party, however Wilbur’s corruption tainted the whole party. Yes, the others involved were good choices, however they wouldn’t have balanced out Wilbur- not with how devoted they were to him, not with how willing Tommy in particular was to follow any command Wilbur gave him trusting it would be the right thing to do- and even if they had, an election with only one party is hardly an election. Quackity was very right to challenge that. I see a lot of people assert now that he was being powerhungry, that Quackity simply wanted a higher station, however at the time- and every time the election has been mentioned since- Quackity only cited a desire to make the election more fair as his motivator, and i’m inclined to believe him because, while Quackity can be ambitious, he’s never allowed that ambition to get in the way of the wellbeing of others.

2.) Quackity’s party ended up just as bad- if not worse- than Pog2020.

Yes, the coalition government that resulted from the election was very clearly bad, however i’d argue that Quackity had no reason to believe it would be. Choosing George as a runningmate put me on edge at first- after all George fought with Dream in the independence war, he was a member of the Dream Smp, close friends with Dream himself. But we need to remember...Quackity...wasn’t around for the Independence War. He didn’t see George fighting for tyranny, he didn’t know the pain George was a part of. And honestly George is.....actually super harmless. Sure he’ll sit there and nod along with whatever the person who’s currently talking to him is talking about, but I mean, the man just doesn’t do anything, he ghosted for Schlatt’s whole presidency, he built a house during November Sixteenth, he was asleep at Doomsday and honestly at this point is technically more aligned with us than with Dream anyway. George is just super harmless. He wouldn’t have been an issue if Swag2020 won, he probably wouldn’t even have shown up to....anything. And then of course there’s the elephant in the room. Schlatt. How could Quackity ever give Schlatt power? Well I mean honestly cause he had every reason to think  Schlatt would be better than Wilbur? I mean, Schlatt, for all  his drunk ramblings and lack of caring about..anything, was incredibly charismatic at first, he gave all these speeches about democracy, about how he wanted what was best for the nation, of course Quackity- who was already in a very bad state of mind due to his fears of losing the election entirely and Wilbur Soot being allowed to continue to lead- readily bought into his pretty lies. And not even just on a professional level either, Quackity and Schlatt were married for fucks sake, why wouldn’t Quackity trust Schlatt to run in the election with him during that manipulative honeymoon stage of their relationship? Schlatt was just feeding him pretty lies and had yet to truly show his full colors, and while some of his early decisions were...iffy- like literally exiling his political competition- but they weren’t tyrannical and especially for somebody who had literally fallen in love with Schlatt and his lies..it was easy to look past. Especially when the alternative is proven corrupt drug dealing business man Wilbur Soot.

3.) Schlatt..you know..destroying monuments and erasing history.

Throughout his reign Schlatt destroyed multiple of L’manburg’s monuments and just completely reworked the history of their nation- as well as changing the nations name and flag- which obviously was awful and signs of worse things to come. One could wonder how Quackity could let Schlatt get away with that and the answer is...he tried not to? I mean, Quackity was fine with erasing old signs of Wilbur’s reign like the walls, but...beyond that..he objected, constantly, to Schlatt tampering with their history and their monuments. In fact he even confided in Tommy- long before leaving Schlatt- that he was...rather upset with how Schlatt was handling things. However he was dismissed at every turn. Belittled, told to stay in his lane, just...not listened to (this is probably one of the leading reasons quackity went on to be so loud and bold during tubbo’s presidency, not letting himself be swatted away when he really believed in something), and Quackity....was still very much in love with Schlatt. I feel the need to stress, Schlatt was not just Quackity’s president, he was his partner, and people tend to value their partner’s choices and opinions. So when Quackity’s partner belittled and insulted him and just generally looked down on him, Quackity began to feel...rather small.  And of course not being as awful as Schlatt is, Quackity himself tried to be as agreeable as he could be and at least come to a resolution. And quite frankly there wasn’t much Quackity could do without Schlatt’s permission so if Schlatt was telling him to stay in his lane, what was he meant to do? Like, what’s the course of action here? He can voice his opinion but Schlatt’s a tyrant, Schlatt can just overrule him, and besides Quackity wants to be a good partner and not try to force his will onto Schlatt. Is he supposed to like...get Schlatt impeached or some shit? They don’t have a process for that, and even if they did, Quackity just wants Schlatt to see reason, he doesn’t want to throw the man out! Fuckin’ shoot him and join the revolution? Well..uh...that’s what Quackity did eventually, actually. He shot Schlatt- taking his second canon life- and joined Pogtopia.

4.) Quackity supported the Festival execution!

No. He did not. Quackity begged Schlatt not to go through with it. Quackity was absolutely horrified. Quackity’s voice joined Niki and possibly Fundy’s in loudly stating their objections. Quackity did more than anybody else did to protect Tubbo, actually. He positioned himself in the line of fire. Quackity ruined the shot. In any normal situation the fucking vice president of the country standing in your line of fire is going to stop you from shooting, Quackity was actively shielding Tubbo, I mean, why the hell do ya’ll think he didn’t consider...moving off stage away from the fireworks? Quackity’s an intelligent person, the thought crossed his mind that he’d be in blast range, he didn’t move because he was counting on his husband not to have him killed long enough for Quackity to actually talk him down. Quackity died shielding Tubbo. And what else would he have done? Slapped the fucking gun out of Techno’s hands? Tried to drag Tubbo out of the box and run? Just stabbed Schlatt? No, ofc not, those are all terrible ideas that would have ended up with both of them dead anyway! Quackity’s actual plan, however, should have worked. By all means. Under normal circumstances nobody would shoot down the vice president. Under normal circumstances a decent husband would have called it off if his partner was about to be shot. Under normal circumstances the shield would have worked. It’s absolutely insane to me that Techno and Schlatt still took the shot. Of course it was because they don’t value Quackity. Schlatt never valued Quackity, did he? But how could Quackity have realized that? How could Quackity just..understand that both his political standing and their personal relationship meant nothing to Schlatt? He couldn’t have, his plan was the smartest one, the only one that should have worked. Quackity did everything he could. And it was the very next day that Quackity shot Schlatt down and left to join the revolution.

Quackity was right to run against Wilbur and literally nothing Schlatt did was Quackity’s fault at all.

#long post #mcyt #dream smp #quackity #dream smp discourse

[shuadotcom]

The One | JJK

∎ Summary: You and Jungkook decide to bring a dog into your home, but first you have to find the perfect one. ∎ Pairing: Jungkook x Gender Neutral!Reader ∎ Genre: Fluff, slice of life, established relationship, idolverse ∎ Rating: G ∎ Warnings: None ∎ Word Count: 1.9k ∎ A/N: For btsholidaybingo | Bingo Square: Jeon Jungkook

"Remember, we're only going for one dog."

"But what if a kitten falls in love with me?"

"No."

"Okay, but what if there’s like, two dogs that are bonded? We can’t just separate them, you know."

"Then we won’t get either."

"But what if-”

"I said no, Koo. No to any other possible scenarios you can think of. Do you want to do this or not?" The two of you have a staredown over the top of the car before Jungkook lets out a long, dramatic sigh, and you climb into the car.

You’ve recently taken the next step in your three-year relationship by moving in together. Jimin was unsurprisingly distraught and clung to Jungkook’s legs as he and the rest of the guys moved his things from the dorm. Of course, you had only moved a good ten minutes away from them in the first place.

Now that you’re accustomed to living and existing every night and day around each other, you agreed your home is missing the presence of a fluffy animal. Well, Jungkook has decided rather, and you gave in to his pouting and begging. Since he’s no longer sharing space with Yeontan, he wants a dog of his own around; thus, the decision to bring home a dog was made.

Neither of you has any idea what type of dog you want, but you agree that you’ll go and see which one stands out. According to Jungkook, you don’t pick a dog; a dog picks you. As someone who’s never had any pet other than hamsters, you’re inclined to believe him. As nervous as you are to be a first-time dog owner, the idea of being a cute, domestic couple raising a dog together is exciting.

The ride to the local shelter is only about ten minutes, and Jungkook is throwing his door open and bounding out of the car as soon as he parks. You follow your exuberant boyfriend inside at a much more leisurely pace. It doesn’t surprise you when you walk in and see the first thing he’s doing is leaning towards a cage full of kittens, cooing at them and letting them nip at his fingertips.

"Jungkook..." you say in a warning tone. He turns towards you, looking guilty.

"I just wanted to look!" He pouts. Once you’re at his side and you’ve greeted a few of the kittens yourself, you follow a volunteer to the wing of the shelter where the dogs are.

Jungkook is immediately drawn to a cage of golden retrievers. He leans over, sticking his fingers through the bars, which makes all of the tiny dogs run over to smell and lick him. You smile at him as giggles come out of his mouth. He soon moves on to a large, older looking pitbull and is whispering greetings to it as it pants excitedly. You leave him there to wander around, eyeing all of the cages, and can’t help but feel overwhelmed by all of the dogs around you, attempting to catch your gaze and silently begging you to take them home.

Your eyes continue to scan the signs hanging from the front of each cage, noting all of the breeds and their names.

A shih tzu, a maltese, a poodle, and a-

“Oh, hello, babies!” A cage with five corgi puppies yipping for your attention catches your attention the most.

As you make your way to the cage, the group of dogs notice and clamor over each other, their small noses raised in the air to try and catch a whiff of you. You smile at them and stick your hand near, letting them sniff you. They all have identical brown eyes and the classic corgi golden brown and white fur, which, while they’re cute, none stand out to you.

Pulling your hand back, you dig a bottle of hand sanitizer from your bag, ready to ask Jungkook if he’s made a decision when something in the corner of the corgi cage catches your attention.

Its eyes are what draw you in. Those gorgeous brown eyes are much lighter and wider than the rest of the liter. You hadn't noticed this one earlier, but looking at it now, you see it’s the only one with all-white fur. It’s the quietest puppy, opting to hang towards the back but still flashing you that wide dog smile. It’s excited, with the way it’s small, round body seems to be vibrating. Something in your gut told you this was the one.

"Koo! Jungkook, I found our dog!" Jungkook leaves the pug he’s talking to so he can come over and join you. He looks at the corgis, his eyes immediately finding the pup in question in no time. After inspecting the dog for a few seconds, he nods.

"That’s definitely the one. Stay here, and I'll go tell someone we've made our choice." Jungkook leans over and plants a kiss on your forehead before he leaves. You get close to the cage again, angling your fingers towards the quiet pup, and immediately it wobbles over, squeezing past the others to get to you. Your heart wells as you watch it give you a couple of licks, then lets out a tiny yip.

Jungkook comes back just as quickly as he had left with an older man in a shelter volunteer shirt. He points out the puppy you want, and the man unlocks the cage to reach around the hyper puppies for yours. He puts the puppy in your waiting hands, and you and Jungkook follow him out to the main part of the shelter. As you go, the man explains that your pup is a boy and that he and his siblings were found in a box in a park by someone who brought them in.

Jungkook fills a basket with toys, food, and treats from the on-site pet shop while the fluff ball in your arms watches him go. He stays quiet as Jungkook tries a few collars on him before settling for a bright blue one and claiming it as perfect.

Once everything is paid for and you’re on your way back home, he stands up in your lap and stretches his body out, examining Jungkook's car as he does.

"Please don't pee on the seats, little guy," Jungkook begs him playfully. As if he understands, the dog gives one small bark in response and moves to balance on your thigh so he can look out the window. "We need a name for him, you know."

"I know. Any ideas?"

"Jungkook Junior?"

"We are not calling our dog Jungkook Junior."

"Y/n Junior?" He receives a pointed look in reaction to that suggestion. "Well, what do you think we should name him then?" You look down at the dog in your lap, and he looks back, almost in curiosity.

"Hmm...how do you think Jimin would feel if we named him Mochi?" Upon hearing it, the puppy barks. "Is that a yes? You like the name?" He barks again.

Jungkook lets out a laugh and turns to look at the puppy once the car is parked and you’re back home. "So this is our little Mochi, huh? I think it fits." He reaches over and scratches under the pup's chin, his tongue lolling out and his eyes closing. You and Jungkook share a look similar to one proud parents would share about their successful children.

After all the supplies are carried upstairs to your apartment, you and Jungkook put all of the things away, taking turns keeping a watchful eye on him as Mochi explores and sniffs anything in the apartment he can get to. Jungkook wastes no time in calling everyone over to meet him.

"His name is Mochi?!” is the first thing out of Jimin’s mouth when you introduce him. He looks as if he’s so touched he could burst into tears. As soon as the boys walk in, Mochi is smelling and circling them, vying for attention from them all.

"For a new dog, he’s not very shy," Yoongi says when he sits down on the couch, and Mochi immediately dashes over, begging to be put into his lap.

A coo rings out through the room from everyone as the eight of you watch as he sprawls out on Yoongi’s lap, enjoying the belly rubs he offers him.

The boys spend the rest of the evening playing with the puppy. They talk to him as if he can understand, try and fail to teach him to sit, and unsurprisingly, Hoseok ends up rolling around on the floor with him.

He has his first almost accident during dinner, whining and pacing while everyone is eating, catching the room’s attention.

“He has to pee!” Taehyung warns. Jungkook shoots up from the couch, nearly knocking his pizza over in the process, and quickly opens the patio door, carrying Mochi out to the patch of turf he’d laid out earlier. Quickly after, he trots back inside and plops onto his doggy bed by the couch, eliciting various “awws” from all of you.

After dinner, everyone helps you and Jungkook clean up and play with Mochi a bit more before calling it a night. Before leaving, Hoseok promises he'll be back in the morning to walk his "new best friend." This causes Seokjin to scoff and argue that Mochi was his new best friend and that he'll be back in the morning. Jimin puts his two cents in about how Mochi is obviously his best friend since he’s named after him. Namjoon tries to use the fact that he secretly fed Mochi under the table as a way of winning the debate that they’re best friends, but it only earns him a whack on the arm from you.

Jungkook manages to usher his bickering friends out, telling them whoever gets to your apartment first in the morning could walk the dog. Of course, this will lead to chaos in the morning, but you and Jungkook will worry about it then.

As the two of you make your way down the long hall to your bedroom, you realize Mochi is still sitting at the end of the hallway, looking as if he’s contemplating whether or not to follow along.

Jungkook turns around and tilts his head. "Well, come on then!" The puppy lets out a chipper bark and bounds down the hallway as quick as his small legs allow him. He circles your feet excitedly, then busies himself with observing the new room as you get ready for bed.

When you’re finally snuggled up to Jungkook with the lights off you, take a look at the puppy as he stretches in the middle of the room.

"Can we bring him in the bed? Please?”

"Hmm...I don't know..." Jungkook taps his chin, pretending to think before calling the dog's name. He didn’t expect him to respond, having only had a name for a day, but to his surprise, Mochi barks and runs over to the bed. You watch him attempt to climb and jump onto the king-sized bed until Jungkook leans down and scoops him up. Mochi immediately turns himself in a circle and plops down on the bed between you two. "He's an extremely smart dog," Jungkook murmurs as he lets a yawn slip.

"He is. You know, I think you were right about letting the dog choose us."

"I know. Aren't I always right?" You reach over and swat his shoulder.

"Oh, hush, and go to sleep." He lets out a laugh before leaning over to kiss you.

"Love you, babe."

"Love you, Koo. Love you, Mochi." Right on cue, the dog lets out a loud yawn and snuggles closer to you. You smile and run your fingers through his soft fur before dozing off with your boys.

#btsholidaybingo #btsnoonanet #ficswithluv #heartsforbts #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #magicshopnet #bangtanuniversity #thebtsficarchive #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fluff #jeon jeongguk x reader #jeongguk fluff #jeongguk x reader #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fanfic #bangtanhq #bangtanstation #thebtswritersclub #btsbookclub #btswriterscollective #ba-dum queued up

[aghoulishtale]

Game Night

Simon Lewis x Reader //The Mortal Instruments

and they were roommates, no.3

Prompt: Game night is a very important event in our apartment and we just keep finding new ways to compete with each other. Word Count: 896 Warnings: none

[gif]

You were stood in the kitchen of the new apartment you had recently moved into with Simon and Clary, looking at the tower of board games Simon had balanced on the counter. None of you had been able to afford to get any real furniture yet, but Simon had made sure to bring every single game he owned with him, and so a weekly game night seemed necessary. It hadn’t been difficult for him to convince you and Clary to join, the three of you having basically been doing it since you were children anyway, but the three Shadowhunters you had befriended were a little more hesitant.  

“Don’t even think about using any magic, you cheat.” Simon pointed an accusatory finger at you.

“I told you I’ve never used magic to cheat!” You protested, only partly lying. You used to be scared to use it due to the risk of being exposed, but since they had found out, you were much more inclined to.

“Hmm.” He hummed. “You’ve won too many times for me to believe that.”

“I don’t need to cheat to win. It’s not that hard to beat you.” You teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I’m sure it’s not when you have an easy way to win.”

“Bite me, Lewis.” You retaliated, Simon’s smile dropping as he stared at you, slowly stepping towards you. He bared his teeth, showing off the sharp fangs, holding onto your shoulder as he pretended to bite your neck.

“I wouldn’t recommend that.” Jace interrupted, dropping the boxes of pizza onto the counter next to you, coming close to knocking over the stack of games. “Warlock blood does weird stuff to vampires.”

“Like what?” Simon asked, a hint of excitement to the question.

“You don’t want to find out.” Jace told him, swiftly leaving the room.

“I kinda do.” He argued.

“Maybe later.” You said, winking at him as you went to join the rest of the group in the other room, enjoying the way it made him squirm.

Two hours later, the pizza had been eaten and a half-played game of Monopoly sat abandoned in the middle of the room after the arguments had gotten too far and Clary suggested you all take a break and play something new. You had settled on Sequence, a game that you and Simon were always the most competitive over, meaning that the other four had basically given up as the two of you battled it out. It was obvious that Simon was winning and seeing the smug look on his face as you struggled to come up with a game plan, you decided that maybe just this once it wouldn’t hurt to use your abilities to your advantage. Besides, you had agreed that the losers were to serve the winner for the rest of the week, and you were looking forward to not having do any of the chores. While Simon was busy with his turn, you changed the cards in your hand to the ones you needed, allowing you to win the game and wipe the conceited look from Simons face as he stared at the board, dumbfounded.

“But, how?” He asked with disbelief.

“I told you, it’s not hard to beat you.” You teased him as you stood, only feeling a little guilty about cheating, but not enough that you would ever admit it. You cleared up some of the rubbish littering the room on your way to the kitchen, leaving Simon to dejectedly pack away the game.

“I knew it!” Simon declared from behind you, startling you. You were still getting used to the fact that he no longer made any noise when he moved.

“Knew what?” You ask, turning to find him holding up five playing cards.

“You have been using magic to cheat!”

“Have not.” You argued weakly.

“There’s only four sevens in a pack of cards.” He flicked the cards around to show you.

“Hmm.” You hummed, as one of the cards turned back to the number two it had been previously. “Maybe you need to start wearing your glasses again.” Confused, he looked back at the cards, letting out a frustrated groan when he saw what you had done.  

“I know you cheated.” He leant towards you, his face inches from yours as he stared into your eyes, as if he could will you into confessing.

“Prove it.” You shot back, leaning even closer so that your noses were basically touching. It wouldn’t take much for him to kiss you, and as his eyes flicked down to your lips, you thought that he might just do it.

“y/n, can you…” You both jumped back at the sound of Clary’s voice. “Oh, am I interrupting something?” She asked, failing to hold back a smirk.

“No!” You and Simon simultaneously responded.

“Did you want me?” You asked her when she continued to give you both a knowing look.

“I was looking for some help, but if you’re busy…” She turned to leave the kitchen.

“I’m not busy.” You quickly followed her out, shooting a glance back at Simon, who was looking down at the cards in his hands, the disappointment you felt reflected on his face. Pushing the feeling away, you followed Clary. If you and Simon are going to happen, it will happen; you had plenty of time. After all, you are both immortal.

#Simon Lewis #the mortal instruments #Robert Sheehan #robert sheehan character fic #roommates prompt #my writing #hopefully its not too obvious that ive been struggling to write anything #i think this is not great but at least its something right #simon lewis x reader #forgot that tag

[startanewdream]

Enough nerve

Summary: “For nearly five years the thought of his father had been a source of comfort, of inspiration. Whenever someone had told him he was like James he had glowed with pride inside. And now . . . now he felt cold and miserable at the thought of him”. - Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

Harry deals with the effects of what he saw on the Pensieve - this time, with his parent's help.

Part of my Jily Lives AU because I just love the idea of Harry having time with his parents.

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

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

The house is quiet. There is one more person there than usual and still the house is so quiet that James can hear the sound of his own heartbeat. It’s disconcerting, actually.

Something is wrong and he knows it. Lily knows it too; she had glanced worriedly at him before leaving hurriedly for a mission for the Order, and then they had both looked in Harry’s direction - his head was bent down, playing dismayingly with the eggs in his plate, barely whispering a bye for his mother when she waved to him.

Not hungry and quiet. That is a bad sign.

The thing about Harry is that he is usually very easy to read, especially because he always looks out for his parents when he has a problem - except if it involves doing some saving-people thing, when Harry jumps first into danger and thinks later of warning his parents. Harry never had any problem talking about things before.

He certainly said loudly and with very colourful words what was on his mind during last Summer, when James and Lily were once again involved with the Order and then they had to keep secrets from Harry. It had not been pleasant, but then again that could be Harry behaving like a teenager - a scared, traumatized, full of nightmares teenager that had dealt with things an adult wouldn't dream of, but still. Teenage rebellion phase is something they can deal with.

And when Harry had been angry, at least they knew what his problem was, but now he is… apathetic? He didn’t say anything to his parents - not even to discuss school, complain again about Umbridge or comment anything about Dumbledore leaving school. He spent all week locked in the library, saying something about studying for his OWL, only coming out for meals he wasn’t even eating and refusing to meet either parents' eyes. 

In fact, James doesn’t know why Harry even bothered to come home for the Easter Holiday, because it is evident that Harry’s mind is elsewhere, in a place where, for the first time, Harry doesn't seem to want to talk to his parents.

Except Harry usually shares with him and Lily what’s bothering him, so this new silence treatment is different. Maybe it is also part of his teenage rebellion phase? He thinks Moony had been like that - no, Remus was always the quiet one anyway, the one who least wanted to talk about his problems as if he didn't want to burden others. Maybe Harry is like that…?

The fireplace in the living room burns brightly green and he raises his head just in time to see a redhead coming out of the fireplace.

‘Oh, hi, Mr. Potter!’, Ginny says brightly and slightly out of breath. She looks windswept as if crossing fireplaces has been a challenge. ‘Sorry to burst in unannounced like that’.

‘No problem, and it’s James’, he says in a false chastening, making her grin. No matter how many times he asks, Ginny always calls him Mr. Potter, even though she has no problem calling Lily by her name. ‘What’s up?’

‘Mum forgot to send our Easter eggs, so I volunteered to bring them here, though I may have crushed them a little in the way. Your fireplace is hard to find now'.

James nods gravely. Ever since Voldemort came back, their house has been overly protected. The only magical way to enter is through the Floo Network, whose access is limited to a few houses, and owls can’t find the place. It's annoying, but if it helps keep Harry safer, he doesn't mind.

‘Also’, Ginny adds, smiling unabashedly, ‘any excuse to be away from Aunt Muriel is valid. We are at her house for the holidays and it’s been a nightmare’.

‘Oh, dear Aunt Muriel. I’ve met her once. “Thought you’ll be more handsome”, she said. “Your wife is much prettier than you”, which it's not false, but still -'

‘Unkind, I know. She always tells me that I should be taller, as if I could control it’, Ginny agrees, rolling her eyes. ‘Anyway, Ron left with Dad for a trip to the market down the village, leaving me alone, that bastard, and I grabbed the first opportunity to get five minutes off. So…’

She delivers him three boxes, and points to the biggest one.

‘That’s Harry’s, of course’, she says fondly. ‘Ron told Mum he seemed down lately, so she thought he could appreciate more chocolate’.

‘Kind of her… so Harry’s been down?’

Ginny bits her lips, suddenly unsure.

‘I don’t know. Hermione said something like that too, but it may be just the exams or -’, she stops herself, her face flushed.

‘Ginny?’, James asks quietly. ‘What's wrong?'

She raises her eyebrows and crosses her arms.

‘I think that’s Harry’s business’, she says loyally, and James wishes she had spoken in a different way.

He can argue with a lot of things, but not with someone wanting to be loyal to Harry, no matter how much he is dying to understand what’s going on with his son.

He watches Ginny more carefully now. There is a stubborn expression on her face and he knows she won’t tell him anything, but maybe her stubbornness could help Harry in some way. He remembers Harry confessing to him how he’d been confused and worried after overhearing people discussing how he might be possessed by Voldemort (that’s the thing about Harry, he does the wrong thing but he eventually tells), and how Ginny had helped him see things clearly.

Harry also told him guiltily of completely forgetting Ginny had been once possessed by Voldemort, and James thinks he understands why Harry forgot it. Ginny is so bright and lively, especially now she is not quiet around Harry, that it would be easy for Harry to forget she had been involved with dark arts when she was younger. Harry never thinks less of anyone for their worst - he only sees their best.

But maybe Ginny can tell him off again - or, as Harry put it, talk some sense into him.

‘Why don’t you deliver the Easter eggs to Harry?’, James suggests casually, returning the biggest box to her. ‘He’s in the library. He’s been there all week’.

‘Oh’, Ginny whispers, her eyes big, and he can see she understands that something is really off with Harry. ‘Like when he barely talks to anyone and just has that look like someone ate the last piece of treacle tart?'

'And he refused my invitation to fly also', James adds and they both share a grimace.

Harry had been absolutely crushed for being forbidden of playing Quidditch and the fact that he had refused any chance to fly, especially when they were allowing some time off the house (which had been mainly off-limits ever since dementors almost got him during Summer), clearly was a sign of how bad things were.

'I will just give him those Easter eggs then', Ginny says. There is a determined look on her face that almost makes James feel sorry for his son.

‘Whatever gets you out of Aunt Muriel’s way, right?’, he asks teasingly, and Ginny grins, both knowing that is not really the reason she is staying a bit longer.

She goes to the library and, when she is at the door, she turns back to him.

‘I won’t tell you anything he says’, she warns, and James nods respectfully, watching her vanish inside the library with the Easter egg in her hand.

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

If Ginny was able to tell Harry off so easily during Christmas, James expects her to help solve things with Harry quickly. Instead, she doesn't come out of the library for thirty-five minutes, all of which James keeps stealing glances to the door instead of reading the Alchemy Manual he was supposed to study.

Lily comes home in the meantime and she just blinks when he tells her what had happened.

'Hope she is luckier than us', she says, and James can hear the hurt in her voice. She is worried about Harry, and she is also sad that he isn't confiding in any of them this time.

It's a feeling James shares. How can he be there for Harry if his son doesn't want him?

'I'll take a quick shower, ok?', she adds, her hand touching his hair fondly and James can’t help but smirk at her.

‘Is that an invitation?’, he teases, making her chuckle.

‘For a quick shower? I deserve more time, you know’.

‘Oh, I know’, he agrees, pulling Lily into his lap to kiss her on the lips. He is feeling more and more inclined to offer her a long shower when the doors of the library open.

They break apart in time to see Harry and Ginny coming out, both looking serious. But James watches Harry's expression: he is frowning at his parents together as if somehow that bothers him.

'Hi, Lily', Ginny says with forced joy after there is an awkward moment of silence. 'Mum sent you Easter eggs. I'll just be going now, she is probably wondering where I am'.

'Thank Molly for us, Ginny', Lily says, raising up, her eyes going from James to Harry and back again.

'Yeah', says Harry, his voice hoarse. 'And anytime you want to escape your Aunt, you can come here'.

It's the most complete sentence James has heard Harry say all week.

Ginny smiles more naturally at him now - a smile that Harry almost returns - before waving around and vanishing in the fireplace.

There is another moment of silence, before Lily says in a voice too casual to be natural: 'I'll take a shower. Why don't you two start dinner?'

They both nod. James watches Lily go, before turning to Harry, with a forced smile.

'What do you think? Chicken pasta and salad?'

Harry shrugs, agreeing, as they go to the kitchen.

'I'm not really hungry', he says in a small voice, taking potatoes to chop without really paying attention. When James looks in his direction, thinking that Harry hasn't been hungry all week, he sees Harry is blushing faintly. 'Ginny and I ate all the Easter egg'.

'Chocolate in the library? You know you are not -'

'I know, no food in the library rule. It just happened'.

'Okay', James says slowly, taking more time than reasonable to say these two syllables. 'At least you ate something'.

His eyes meet Harry's then. This is the first time James is openly acknowledging he knows something is wrong, and this is also the first time Harry is looking at him directly with the most peculiar expression James has ever seen on his son.

He has already seen Harry’s green eyes shining with anger, desperation and hurt, but the emotion there is something new.

Disappointment.

As if James let him down somehow.

'Harry -', he begins, just as Harry starts talking too.

'There is something I need to tell you', he whispers, sounding miserable. 'I broke the mirror'.

'What mirror? The two-way mirror?'

'Yeah. About a week ago. I thought of calling you, but I was so mad that… I just broke into my hands'.

James just watches him with concern.

'We can fix later', he assures, but that still doesn't seem the reason Harry has been upset. ‘Were you hurt?’ Harry shakes his head. 'Why were you mad, Harry?'

Harry closes his fist and takes a deep breath as if gathering courage

'Because of what I saw on Snape's pensieve'.

James raises his eyebrows, but he doesn't say anything as Harry recounts exactly what memory of Snape he has seen. There is a heavy feeling on his chest that just increases with every word Harry says.

But he feels at his worst when Harry finishes his tale and he looks at James with a kind of desperation that seems to beg for an explanation, an alternative point of view of those events, any reason at all for the fact that his father was just as arrogant bullying toerag as Lily had called him then.

And he knows there isn’t.

'I wish you wouldn't judge me for what you saw, Harry', whispers James at least. 'I was young -'

'You were my age!', Harry cries, angry tears shining in his eyes.

'And still I was younger than you', James counters quietly. 'You faced too many things for a fifteen-years-old whereas… I was stupid and young and didn't think of anyone else other than myself'.

'But…', Harry blinks at him, as if even when he is upset he can't hear criticism against his father. 'You were good, I mean, you always told me how you became an animagus for Uncle Moony and how you were Head Boy -'

'It was for Remus, yes, but back then I thought of him already as part of my family. And that was my problem. Anything that was out of my own personal bubble… I didn't care. I wasn't selfless like you'.

'I am not -'

'You literally stayed behind last year during the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament because you couldn't think of leaving a young girl alone in the Black Lake'.

'I was just stupid enough to -'

'You care for others. You are so much like your mother in that'.

This compliment doesn't make Harry smile, and James understands another problem Harry had with watching that memory.

Things with Lily had been so complicated then.

'I know that doesn't excuse me, Harry, and I am not trying to defend myself. I was everything your mother complained I was back then, but only because I didn't know better. I had the perfect life. My parents loved me and always gave me anything I wanted. My friends loved me and they trusted me. I was good at school without much effort. I was amazing at Quidditch and I knew it. People admired me. I never had any concern at all'.

Harry blinks at him, and James knows his son cannot fathom how it's like to live a life without any worry.

'So I was a bit conceived, yes, I thought the world revolved around me'.

'You… you and Sirius, you both… Snape…'

'Things with Snape were always difficult’, James admits, his hand messing up his hair nervously. His relationship with Snape was one he never wanted to fully disclose to Harry, even when Harry asked him once why Snape disliked them so much. 'We hated each other from the beginning and our ways were very different. But, yeah, it was four of us and Snape was mostly alone, so he almost never won'.

'Almost?'

James hesitates.

'Snape was - and he was also young, Harry, so I try to not hold against him - he was too invested in dark things, in dark spells, in… the wrong company. And I promise you, no matter what you saw, I always hated Dark Arts, always despised those who would use it. And in the few times he managed to get the upper hand… things got ugly'.

'So he did get back to you? He wasn't just…'

'Harry', James cuts him off, hating to crush the small hope that is glistening in Harry's eyes. 'Whatever happened other times between me and Snape, I can't say it justifies what you saw. That time, that day, I jinxed him for no other reason than I was bothered and…', James takes a deep breath. 'I wanted to call your mother's attention'.

'Mum was decent', Harry says in a small voice.

'She was. She never complied with injustice'.

'Mum - she said she would never... She disliked you so much'.

'Yes'.

'How could - did you somehow - she hated you'.

'Nah, she didn't. Not really. She just thought I could be better and I did become better, Harry'.

'You told me you had asked her out and she had refused you'.

'Yeah, she did. Twice. We only started going out in our seventh year'.

'But - why?'

'Why?'

‘Why did she accept to go out with you?’

There is a sigh from behind them.

‘I think that’s better if you ask me, Harry’, Lily says softly, and James turns to see his wife.

She is fresh from her shower, her auburn wet hair falling dark over her shoulders, and as always when he sees her James' heart skips a beat. 

Their eyes meet and James can see she understands partly what has been bothering Harry all week. She approaches him, taking his hand and entwining their fingers, so they can stand side by side. Lily has a soothing presence no one else has for James and he breathes easier now.

Harry frowns, but he stays silent as he looks at Lily. James can easily read his son’s need for a sense for everything.

‘A lot of people were idiots when they were fifteen’, says Lily. James chuckles fondly.

‘You weren’t’, he says. Lily shrugs.

‘I was, just differently. I refused to see things that were in front of my nose and I thought only my opinion mattered. But I grew out of it, just as you did. Sirius grew up. Remus did too. We all did’.

‘Come on, Moony was fine’, James defends. She shakes her head.

‘He never said anything, right? I was more friendly with him than with any of you, and still he would never say a word against you. He worshipped you too much’.

‘Well - he made me and Sirius feel guilty - kind of at least, more than anyone else’. James looks back at Harry. ‘But, yeah, that stopped. Remus doesn’t have any problem saying what he feels now’.

‘Of course not’, Lily agrees. ‘People change, Harry. Sometimes for worse, sometimes for the better, and that was definitely your father’s case. Do you know how we told you we were friends before we dated?’

Harry nods, thoughtfully. Back at Christmas, when Harry had let slip something about the fact he had kissed someone, Lily had reminded him of the importance of getting to know someone better before getting into any relationship.

‘Well, things between us started rocky, but when we were in our sixth year… the world was changing and so were we. We became friends over shared concerns, shared beliefs and shared night talks. Your dad had his problems, but… his heart was always in the right place’.

When Harry looks confused, Lily grimaces as if she wishes she doesn’t have to continue this conversation too.

‘If I got it right, you saw -’

‘That day over the lake’, James says, his hand messing up his hair once more. ‘After the defense OWL’.

Lily nods gravely.

‘Well, then you know what - you heard what Snape called me’, she says in a low voice, and James wonders if Harry can hear the pain in Lily’s voice. Twenty years later and it’s clear that day still bothers her. He puts his arms around her shoulder, in comfort, and Lily throws him a grateful look. ‘Well, whatever faults your father had, he would never say what Severus… James was good. He was not prejudiced. That thing he does of seeing the best in people, no matter what - like with Remus and Sirius and…’

‘Peter’, James adds heavily when she stops herself, and now it’s Lily that is embracing him for support.

‘You helped people’, she says, looking at him with only affection on her bright green eyes. ‘And when you deflated your head a little, that became obvious. You didn’t care just for you or for those around you. You care for everyone. You cared about doing the right thing. And that’s one of the things that drew me to you’.

‘And here I thought it was my incredible ability to make you laugh’, he murmurs in a fake self-confident voice, and just as he expects, that makes Lily let out one of the amused giggles, accepting the kiss that James gives warmly on her forehead.

Lily sighs then turns to Harry, who looks at them still thoughtfully. ‘So, you see, I fell in love with your dad when that fifteen years old boy you saw had evolved into a very nice man. When he became Head Boy, I wasn’t even much surprised’.

James throws an incredulous look at her.

‘You are so lying, Evans’, he says. Lily chuckles.

‘I said "much", Potter. Come on, I saw you being all responsible the year before, helping young students and protecting people and not standing up to prejudice and bigotry. You deserved that badge', she paused before giving him a sly smile. 'It matched your eyes nicely too’.

‘I always knew you were only interested in my good looks’.

‘In how good you looked next to me, you mean?’, she teases, and James can’t help but to pull her towards him, kissing her softly on the lips.

When they break apart, Harry is avoiding looking at them, but James recognizes his embarrassment at his parents in the gesture, more than any kind of nuisance.

‘It’s safe to look now’, he tells Harry playfully, and Harry rolls his eyes at him, but he seems more at ease than James has seen him all week.

‘You love each other’, Harry says and the certainty and relief in his voice arepalpable.

‘Of course we do, Harry’, Lily says, exchanging a glance with James. ‘You know that’.

‘I just thought -’. He shakes his head. ‘Nothing. Ginny said I was being stupid, and she was right'.

'What did you talk about anyway? You stayed there for a long time'.

'She told me you were going to ask and that I should tell you it's my business', Harry replies grinning. 'But I don't mind... She just helped me remember something important. I was - afraid, I guess, of talking to you. She helped me remember anything is possible if you got enough nerve, so -'

'I am sorry, Harry', says James earnestly. 'That what you saw made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me. I just want you to know - it's important you know this - that you can always say anything to me - to us, no matter what'.

Harry nods quietly; the dark cloud that had hung over his head seems to have vanished.

'Now, what about a pizza? Since dinner hasn't even started?', Lily asks brightly, glancing at Harry. He smiles.

'From that old place in Main Street? Can we go there?'

This makes Lily's smile falters and Harry adds hurriedly: 'We can just order, no problem'.

'No, I think we will survive one night out. But take your wand with you, just in case'. Harry nods seriously. 'Go on'.

'Actually, Harry', James calls before Harry leaves, as a thought crosses his mind. 'Did Snape say anything about what you saw?'

Harry blinks at him.

'Snape wasn't happy', he says neutrally.

'Professor Snape, Harry… How is your occlumency?', asks Lily, exchanging a concerned look with James. After what happened over Christmas…

'The same. But -', Harry sighs as if he wishes he were saying anything else. 'I don't think we will continue the classes. He was really upset because of the pensieve'.

'What?', James cries just as Lily jumps.

'I will talk to him', she says. 'He can't possibly -'

'I don't mind, it is a relief actually -,

'This is really important, Harry, if -'

'Dad', Harry cuts him off, his hand going automatically to his scar as if it's bothering him. 'Can't we talk about this tomorrow? The holidays are almost over, and I was already too much a prat for most of it… can we just have a nice dinner?'

There is a pleading look on Harry’s eyes. James bits his lips, but after a second Lily nods with a small smile.

'Ok, but don't think we will forget it. Go take your wand'.

Harry smiles gratefully. Lily turns to James, touching his face softly when she sees he is frowning.

'We'll talk to Dumbledore', she says quietly when Harry is gone. 'He will intervene with Severus. Let's just have a nice dinner with our teenage son tonight, shall we?'

James sighs.

'Ok... I'm going to change then'.

When he is at the door, he turns to her with a smirk already on his lips.

'Do you know where our old school things are?'

Lily looks curiously at him.

'At the attic, I think, why?'

'Thought of using my old Head Boy badge. See if it still goes with my eyes'.

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

If you enjoyed, I have this oneshot of James and Lily finding out Harry’s a champion in the Triwizard Tournament, and Harry asking James’s help for inviting someone for the Yule Ball.

#Jily lives #James Potter #Lily Evans #Harry Potter #Jily Fanfiction #Eyes glistening #James Potter is a Good Parent #Lily Potter is a good parent #t: fanfiction

[waynes-multiverse]

Starry Nights – Part 2

Chapter Title: Sunshine

Pairings: Mechanic!Dean Winchester x Zoey Lafitte (OFC), Sam Winchester x Jessica Moore (minor)

Universe: Small Town AU

Characters: Zoey Lafitte (OFC), Dean Winchester, Charlie Bradbury, Bobby Singer, Benny Lafitte, various OCs & other spn characters fill in as townies

Chapter Warnings: joyriding Baby, happy!Charlie, angry!Dean, fluff, smutty thoughts, a hint of angst

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: I feel like both of them will be very idiotic about this. Enjoy these sweet idjits and let me know who you think won the flirty banter in this one. I’m inclined to give it to Dean ;)

Tags and requests are open! Just dm me or send me an ask ⚡️😈

The Road So Far                  Series Masterlist

Her alarm clock woke her up at 8am. She gave it a good snooze before she hopped out of bed and into the shower. The warm water not only washed the airplane stank off but also soothed her hungover head a bit. The weather report announced a hot day, and even though in the mountain region it could get relatively fresh, she still opted for a lovely summer dress and grabbed her jeans jacket just to be safe.

She quietly snuck downstairs as her brother was always dead asleep until noon after his shifts. As she put her toes on the last step, she heard some noises coming from the kitchen and followed the commotion.

Her mother’s face instantly lit up as she recognized her daughter standing in the doorframe. She immediately dropped the plates she was washing back into the sink, pulled off her gloves, and hugged Zoey with tears in her eyes. Her mother had always been the sweetest and was overtly emotional. She had cried through several boxes of tissues at her graduation, and after her father’s death, she had almost been inconsolable. Her parents always had the perfect romance, and while it ended tragically, Zoey always wished she could be at least half as happy as them with someone someday.

“Oh, honey, I’m so glad you’re back home. I wanted to stay up last night, but I’ve been completely beat after my shift at the clinic,” her mother huffed apologetically as she entangled her daughter into a tight embrace.

“That’s alright, Mom. I’m here all summer. Maybe even forever. By the end, you’re gonna wish I’d leave again,” she teased.

“I would never!” her mom protested. “You want me to make you some breakfast, sunshine? I can make your favorite – pancakes with maple syrup, two stripes of bacon, eggs sunny-side up? I can make them into a smiley face,” she offered with a giddy smile.

“Mom, I’m not five,” Zoey frowned. However, she couldn’t help but grin at her mother’s happiness. “Maybe tomorrow. I wanted to grab a danish from Charlie’s bakery and some coffee as a thanks for Dean picking me up from the airport yesterday.”

“Oh, going over to Dean’s, are we?” Her mother wiggled her eyebrows at her.

“Mom, stop it. There’s nothing going on,” she tried to state in a serious tone but giggled nonetheless at her mother’s silliness.

“Too bad, he’s a good guy. Your father always liked him too,” her mom mumbled under her breath as she went back to her dishes nonchalantly. Zoey narrowed her eyes, shaking her head at her mom’s obvious behavior.

“Dad didn’t even know him that well,” she argued, crossing her arms as she curiously watched her mother.

“Well, you knew your father. He always solely trusted his gut feeling. Even knew you were gonna be a girl before me and the doctors knew,” her mom stated like it was the all winning fact.

“To be fair, his chances were pretty much fifty-fifty with that one,” Zoey remarked cleverly.

“Well, his chances are fifty-fifty with Dean as well,” her mother countered, leaving her daughter speechless.

“Damn, woman. You’re on fire today. It’s unfair to take advantage of people who hadn’t had their morning caffeine intake yet,” she playfully complained.

“Just saying – mother always knows best,” her mom stated matter-of-factly.

“Okay, I’m gonna leave now before more motherly wisdom rains down on me. Love you, bye!” She quickly grabbed the keys of the Impala from Benny’s jacket and headed out the door.

It was a sunny morning, so she rolled down the car’s windows and enjoyed the nice breeze as she drove around the picturesque town. She parked Baby in front of the little bakery on Main Street and headed inside. She watched as her friend Charlie carefully wiped off a piece of frosting from her girlfriend’s nose before she licked her finger with a smile and placed a loving kiss on her lips.

“Oh dear Lord, is everyone madly in love in this town?” she frowned jokingly as she closed the glass door of the shop behind her.

“Z! You’re back!” Charlie exclaimed excitedly and instantly ran over to her for a hug, barely letting her breathe.

“Nice car,” Grace noted with a smile and gestured with her chin to the shiny black Impala parked out front.

“Back in town for five minutes and already stole Dean Winchester’s car. Only you could be that ballsy,” Charlie laughed. “God, I missed you, my little troublemaker.”

“Hey, what makes you think I stole it? I’m an excellent driver,” Zoey protested.

“Uh-huh,” Charlie smirked and gave her a wink.

She playfully narrowed her caramel eyes at her friend before she nodded admittedly, “Well, I better hurry before someone in this town snitches on me.”

“What can I get you, Bonnie?” Charlie asked with an arched eyebrow as she hopped behind the counter with her best customer service smile.

“Two danish and two coffees black, please,” she ordered with a grin.

Charlie shook her head with a chuckle and sighed, “You never change.”

Her next stop was Dean Winchester’s new home. She drove down the familiar road until she stopped by Mr. Wilson’s pale blue little house. The paint was chipped, but the garden looked tidier, and she could tell Dean was currently fixing the leaky roof. A row of sunflowers was also neatly planted alongside the kitchen window, just like they always had been.

She parked the Impala in the driveway, grabbed her brown paper bag of goodies and two disposable cups of coffee, balancing everything carefully until she reached the front door. She knocked twice on the white wood, almost dropping her belongings before the door sprung open.

His green eyes went wide at the sight of her, and his lips formed into a big smile as he recognized his surprise visitor. He was still feeling hungover and had barely slept. He felt like his eyes were playing a trick on him, finding himself in a weird daydream. He tried to blink her away, but she wouldn’t go anywhere.

She was wearing an emerald flower-patterned dress, which gently flowed to her knees, a jeans jacket, and a broad grin on her cherry lips. The dark sunglasses suggested she was as hungover as he was. He noticed only later she was also holding a paper bag and some coffees.

“Hey, what you’re doing here?” he smiled.

“Oh, just thought I bring back your baby and a little thank you for picking up poor little old me from the airport,” she giggled.

“Sweetheart, I don’t think you’re ever gonna have a problem hitching a ride from someone,” Dean smirked and leaned a little closer to her as he supported himself with his arm against the doorframe. But then it dawned on him, and his face fell; the soft, charming expression replaced by sole irritation. “Wait, did you maniac drive my car?” He rushed past her and immediately started to search the shiny black metal for any damage in a panic.

“Oh, c’mon, I’m a good driver. You taught me how to drive,” she argued.

“You’re a horrible driver. There was nothing I could do for you then, and there’s nothing I can do for you now. Don’t drive my car,” he pointed his index finger sternly at her as he walked back towards her. Luckily, she had managed to drive Baby here safely, and it was pure luck indeed. “It’s like the only rule I have for you,” he huffed, a little frustrated before he stopped in his tracks right in front of her.

“Only one, huh?” she bit her lip, hiding her smirk, and wiggled her eyebrows at him.

“Nice try, grasshopper,” he smirked. “Flirting’s not gonna get you out of this one. So, how far did you take your joyride?” He sternly raised one of his brows at her and crossed his arms in front of his chest, but he couldn’t help the small crooked smile that stayed on his lips.

“Uh, just, you know, from my house to yours,” she stammered in response. It was hard to concentrate as Dean towered over her, broad-shouldered and flexing his muscles underneath his black T-shirt. Somehow, anger only made the guy hotter.

“And where did you get the coffee? Oh, Charlie’s. I see,” he wisecracked as he took one of the cups from her hands and read the label.

“It’s on the way,” she shrugged innocently.

“You live three blocks up the street,” Dean argued, shaking his head.

“I don’t like left turns,” she countered with a cheeky grin.

“Jesus,” Dean exhaled deeply and rolled his eyes back before he grabbed the brown paper bag from her and headed back inside the house with his goodies, Zoey following him closely.

She replaced her sunglasses with a wondrous look on her face once she stood in the foyer. There were still a lot of repairs left to be done, and the house was far from decorated, but she was immediately struck with a wave of homey coziness as she entered.

“You like it?” he asked, his gaze not leaving her, as they made their way to the little kitchen nook. He smiled when the morning sunbeams shone through the window, hitting her honey eyes just right, and they shimmered golden in the sunlight.

“Mr. Wilson was right. This is really nice,” she smiled softly as her eyes studied the sunflowers outside the window.

“Yeah,” Dean assented, smiling, but his green eyes weren’t focused on the same thing hers were. He was simply mesmerized by the redheaded woman in his kitchen and finally understood what Earl must have meant. The old man had probably seen his wife standing at the same spot as Zoey every day.

“What?” she questioned with a giggle as she turned back to him and noticed he was staring at her.

“Uh, nothing,” he cleared his throat and quickly took a sip from his cup. “I mean, the house is small, but I don’t need a lot more.”

“I think it’s perfect for you,” she said, and the most genuine smile appeared on her face. She was happy all her friends had found something joyful in their lives. As she glanced around the house, she could already see Dean’s story unfold – his wife decorating the Christmas tree in the living room next to the fireplace, him teaching his kids how to ride a bike on the street outside, having BBQs in the backyard for the whole neighborhood to enjoy, and Dean just being incredibly happy overall.

“Yeah, still have to fix the paint outside, though. Any suggestions?”

“I like the OG color. Just needs a fresh new coat, I think. I can help you with that if you want,” she offered kindly.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks. Do you know anything about painting?” He cocked an eyebrow at her.

“As much as I know about driving,” she teased him, and he chortled. “Besides, you should take advantage of us unemployed college graduates.”

He chuckled, “Well, you know, I can’t technically pay you.”

“I’m sure I can think of something,” she grinned and licked her lips, gently leaning forward on the counter on her elbows before she took an innocent sip of coffee.

He pursed his lips at her words and was glad the little kitchen isle was standing firmly between them. He mimicked her gesture and leaned forward on his palms as well with his signature charming smirk, “And what exactly did you have in mind?”

The corners of her mouth moved to a satisfied smile at his response. He had never so blatantly flirted back before. At least it seemed a little more than their usual flirtatious banter, and she decided to take advantage of the moment. She bit down on her lower lip, trying not to break her gaze with his jade orbs as she spoke, “Depends on how hard you’ll make me work.”

He swallowed, almost coughing out the mouthful of coffee. She giggled, amused at his bashful reaction to her comment, before her eyes wandered to the clock on the wall above the fridge. “C’mon, Colorado. You’re late for work,” she stated as she headed outside.

“Oh, shit,” Dean muttered as he realized the time and hurried after her.

“By the way, can you drop me off at Main Street on the way? I have some errands to run,” she said as they strolled to the car.

“Ah, so this is the real reason why you stopped by. You need another ride,” Dean stated with a knowing smirk.

No, actually, I wanted to see you, idiot, she thought as she glanced at him.

“You know me well, Winchester,” she mumbled instead as she slid into the passenger’s seat.

Dean let her hop out on the sidewalk on Main Street before he headed off to his father’s body shop. She enjoyed the warm June sun rays on her skin as she strolled down the street, greeting familiar faces, and her eyes curiously observed her surroundings. The front of the local supermarket had gotten a new coat of canary yellow paint. The barbershop had stayed the same; the only exception was now, Mr. Turner’s son was cutting hair instead of him. A lot of small things had changed, but it still felt like the same old hometown she had grown up in.

She refilled her coffee cup before stopping by the post office and used the copy machine to print more resumes. She added a portfolio of some of the selected articles she had written over the years and sealed them carefully into envelopes. As she sat by the little window seat, she researched the addresses of all the magazines she wanted to apply to before she scribbled them on the envelopes and handed them to Missouri, the manager of the local post office and mail lady.

“Oh, honey, what is all that? You’re looking for a job?” Missouri asked her with a curious smile.

“Yeah, wish me luck,” Zoey sighed.

“You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you’ll find something that makes you happy,” Missouri assured her.

“That’s what they all keep saying,” she mumbled in response. She thought it was inaudibly, but Missouri must’ve heard her as she peaked her ears.

“Well, you usually find exactly what you need when you stop looking,” Missouri advised ominously, but she just threw the old woman a suspicious look.

“Oh, you’re a hoot, Missouri,” she remarked with a giggle.

“I’m not joking, sweet girl,” the older woman stated sternly. “But if you’re looking for a job over the summer, you might check in with Mr. Singer.”

“Thanks, I will. See ya!” she gratefully told the woman, hopping cheerfully outside with her new lead for a job.

She was surprised to find Mr. Singer was still alive and breathing. He had already been an old grouch while she interned at the local newspaper in high school. Now, he was probably a dinosaur. But Missouri was right; the Granite Creek Chronicle was probably the best place she could work at over the summer. After all, Mr. Singer had taught her everything she knew about journalism and even wrote a letter of recommendation to her college.

The newspaper’s office was only a few blocks down the street, but the space was small, old, and dusty. At the height of the paper, the highest number of reporters that worked here at the same time was five. And that was during the Vietnam War. Nowadays, the world was a little quieter – at least, the bubble of Granite Creek was.

“Mr. Singer?” She looked around the office for a sign of the old man before she heard some rustling noises coming from underneath a big wooden desk in the middle of the room.

A gray-haired man then peaked his head up and slammed a stack of papers on the table before he pulled the glasses on his forehead down to his nose to get a better look at the blur in his office.

“Mr. Singer, it’s me, Zoey Lafitte,” she smiled warmly at him, trying to jog the old man’s memory.

“Zoey? Oh, sweetheart, I haven’t seen you in ages.” His face lit up once he recognized her. “How are you? What brings you here?”

“I’m great. Just wanted to stop by and say hi. I finally graduated from UW… And I can see you’re still holding up the fort,” she said with a chuckle as she took a look around the room. It was mostly empty, and a lot of its contents were stored in moving boxes.

“Oh, I’m gettin’ old, sweetheart. Can’t hold the fort down by myself any longer. Hell, I can’t even see half the letters on the page anymore,” he huffed sorrowfully.

“Wait, you’re closing the Chronicle?” She wrinkled her brow at him. “But Missouri said you were looking for someone.”

“I was…for a long time. But nobody with talent wants to stay in this goddamn small-town. Couldn’t find a replacement to take over,” he explained.

“Well, I could do it,” she quickly cut in.

“You wanna take over the Granite Creek Chronicle?” He questioningly arched a brow at her.

“I mean, not forever…but I could do it over the summer and look for an appropriate replacement. We can’t let the Chronicle die. It’s a piece of town history,” she argued. “Hell, your grandfather built this building with his bare hands! And you made it famous with that badass mob story in the ‘60s.”

“Damn right, I did,” Mr. Singer chuckled happily at the memory. “Alright, girlie. You got the job. Stop by tomorrow at ten. I have some stories for you to work on.”

She shrieked excitedly and happily hugged the old man before she hopped to the door. “You’re not gonna regret it, Mr. S. I promise!”

It was late in the afternoon when she stopped by the Winchester garage after a successful day of errands. She found Dean stuck under a classic car in his jeans, a black T-shirt, and his button-up coolly tied around his waist. She smiled as she remembered all the girls in school watching and lurking from across the street as Dean obliviously worked away on a car while she was the only girl who got to hang out with him in the garage.

“Hey, Colorado,” she greeted him, and he startled up, hitting his head.

“Ouch!”

“Are you okay?” she asked with a giggle as she tilted her head underneath the vehicle to check on him.

“Yeah,” he said as he rolled out from under the car and grinned at her. His face and bare arms were covered in grease, dirt, and sweat.

No wonder all these girls lurked back then, she mused as she watched him, biting down on her bottom lip. She hopped on the wooden workbench and crossed her legs tightly, hoping the friction would soothe some of the ache she started to feel between her thighs.

“You look a lot happier now than in the morning,” he stated as he glanced at the joyful smile on her face.

“Oh, I feel happier. I’ve been rejuvenated by life, my friend. I could rip out trees, sing What’s Up from the rooftops…,” she declared. And staring at you helps too.

“I’m sure that’s just the coffee. How many is that today?” Dean gestured with his chin to the disposable cup in her hand as he wiped his greased hands with a rag.

“Fourth one,” she shrugged a little jittery.

“Jesus,” he huffed with an eye-roll. “Okay, what brings you here, grasshopper?” Dean questioned, switching his tools before disappearing underneath the vehicle again.

“Oh, just wanted to tell you the good news. I found a job!” she exclaimed excitedly.

“Already?” He rolled out underneath the car again to look up at her with a furrowed brow. “You just got here yesterday.”

His voice almost sounded a little disappointed, even though she knew he probably couldn’t wait to get rid of her again. “It’s a summer job in town, doofus. I’m helping Mr. Singer out with the Chronicle.”

“Didn’t he want to close that down?” Dean asked, his voice sounding a little strained as he continued working on the car.

“Not anymore. I’m gonna save it and find a replacement,” she announced eagerly.

He shook his head with a smile, which she couldn’t see as it was hidden by the car. She was still the same old Zoey, always looking for a new project – a new adventure. “Are you now?”

“Yes! You know, it’s a shame they couldn’t find anyone else. I mean, the paper is great,” she argued.

“Well, no one with talent wants to stay here,” Dean stated dryly.

“That’s what Singer said, but I don’t understand why. Granite Creek is so pretty, especially in fall and winter; the people are awesome, the mountains, the trees…,” she trailed off and motioned to the scenic view outside.

“You of all people don’t get why no one wants to stay here? You left right after school, and you’re gonna leave again in a few months. Because you know your talent is also wasted here.”

“That’s not true. You know my dad always wanted me to travel and see the world like he did. There’s so much to see out there. Why would I stay at the one place I know by heart?” She lifted a brow at him. Her dad had set aside money for her to travel because he always wanted her to be an explorer like he had been. He had even met her mother on a trip to Italy, and they instantly started a whirlwind romance before they moved to her mother’s hometown. She had always hoped she would find something like that during one of her trips. “But the Granite Creek Chronicle is an important part of town. You know, small-town papers like these are the building blocks of our constitutional right to freedom of speech. Those big-city newspapers just wanna silence us.”

“Whoa, slow your roll, little grasshopper. Before you start a war with the big city folks, might wanna get settled in first,” Dean reminded her with a chuckle.

“Good point, Colorado. Get a feel for the enemy first,” she smiled and took another contemplative sip from her coffee cup. She watched him as he switched his tools again and opened up the hood of the old teal Mustang. “Who’s car is this anyway?”

“Uh, mine for now,” he replied, keeping his head under the hood, working on the engine.

Her jaw dropped and her hazel eyes widened in shock. “What! You’re cheating on Baby?! Poor girl,” she huffed in exaggeration, earning her a laugh from the mechanic.

“It’s just a fling,” he played along. “Gonna sell her once she’s fixed. Been doing this for a year now – buying some run-down classics, restoring them. Dad thought it was a good idea. Actually made a bit of money with it,” he shrugged modestly.

“Enough to make a downpayment on a house?” she arched an eyebrow with a grin.

He chuckled, “You know it.”

“Really smart idea,” she smiled before chewing down on her bottom lip. “Hm…local hero turned savvy business prodigy,” she mused thoughtfully.

He lifted his head from the engine to her. Her classic thinker expression was written across her face, and he narrowed his pine-green eyes at her. “You’re not gonna write a story about this, are you?”

She rolled her shoulders back with an innocent smile. “Depends on what story leads Mr. Singer has for me tomorrow. Otherwise, you’re pretty much fucked.”

Dean pensively rubbed his chin with his index finger and thumb. “Well, I guess I can manage…,” he sighed. “As long as you’re the one who’s fucking me,” he added with the boldest smile, taking a step closer to her. While he knew his comment might have been a little risky, he couldn’t resist any longer. She had been on his mind since she showed up at his doorstep this morning. And now it was just cruel the way she sat on his workbench, sun-kissed legs dangling down. It would be so easy for him to fuck her right there, but he knew that would definitely cross a line. He didn’t break their gaze though, watching the red color rush to her cheeks and her cherry lips parting slightly in bewilderment. He had completely rendered the talkative redhead speechless and enjoyed it immensely. “And that’s my revenge for this morning, sweetheart.”

After he finished a long day of work, Dean sat down on a barstool by the counter of Rocky’s like he did most days, and Benny slid him a bottle of beer across the wooden surface in their usual routine.

“Have you heard your sister got a job today? Convinced Singer to keep the Chronicle open,” Dean informed Benny as he took a gulp of his beer. He still couldn’t shake the image of Zoey in the garage today and was seriously questioning how his tiny crush could have gotten so much worse in only 24 hours.

“Yeah, she hopped by earlier and told me. But hey, if anyone could convince the old grump…,” Benny chuckled, and Dean joined him.

“It’s her,” he finished his friend’s sentence.

“Hey, I gotta show you something, brother,” Benny said with a wide grin before he fumbled in his jeans pockets and pulled out a little black ring box. He opened it and revealed a beautiful antique-looking diamond ring.

“Benny, I don’t know what to say…I haven’t ever thought about us in that way,” Dean joked, and Benny let out a deep laugh.

“You’re something, Winchester,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

“No, but seriously, I’m really happy for you. So, when are you gonna pop the question?” Dean asked. He had known Benny was gonna marry Heather after his friend couldn’t shut up about her for five hours after the first date three years ago.

“I thought about doing it on the camping trip. You know, by the waterfall, stars and moon above us, fireplace in the distance…,” Benny described a dreamy scene.

“Didn’t take you for such a romantic,” Dean noted with a snigger.

“Oh, what we wouldn’t do for the ladies in our lives,” Benny hummed blissfully before he shot Dean a look. “Am I right?”

“Well, I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Dean muttered and quietly took another sip, staring into emptiness.

The only two relationships he’d had, had ended disastrously. Cassie had left out of the blue one morning, only leaving a note behind that said she couldn’t be with him anymore and was moving to the city for a new job. He still didn’t know what happened exactly. They had gotten in a fight the night before where she accused him of being ‘emotionally unavailable.’ Still better than Lisa, who had just simply called him ‘damaged’ when she ran for the hills. But granted, that one was mildly deserved.

Benny leaned closer to him over the counter with a sigh, “Listen, brother, I hope you don’t think I would ever stand between you and your…happiness.”

He glanced up at his best friend, a little baffled at the sudden heart-to-heart about presumably his own little sister. “What, no! C’mon, man. Of course, you’re not!” While the whole circumstances had held him back a little, it had never been due to Benny’s fault.

“Good, good… Then when are you finally gonna make your move, huh?” Benny smirked at him. “You know she had a crush on you in high school.”

“She did not,” Dean huffed, trying to play it cool, but it came off more than just a little insincere. She had a crush on me?

“She sure did. Right up there with Timberlake, and what’s the other one’s name from that movie she liked?” Benny snapped his fingers, trying to remember.

“Ah, Ryan Phillipe from Cruel Intentions. That movie really ruined her for good,” Dean shook his head at the memory.

“Oh, it did,” Benny assented. “She does have a type. It’s usually asshole, but you seem to be the outlier, my brother.”

“I don’t think I am,” Dean snorted. If you asked a few girls around town, they would surely attest to that.

“Right,” Benny nodded with a knowing smile. “Always love ‘em and leave ‘em, huh, my friend?”

“Yeah,” Dean breathed out thoughtfully as he stared at the empty bottle in his hands. He knew he’d never be good enough for anyone in the long run.

Part 3

Hope you enjoyed this part!

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