#if someone told me there was a smarter version of me out there i’d fucking laugh

[smol-bean-buchanan]

mobius: the variant we’re hunting is you

loki: cool

mobius: a smarter you

loki:

#it gave me natasha in winter soldier vibes #“the person who developed this is slightly smarter than me. SLIGHTLY.” #if someone told me there was a smarter version of me out there i’d fucking laugh #like girl what is your secret because my head is barely above water lmao #marvel #mcu #marvel studios #loki #loki series #loki laufeyson #agent mobius #mobius m mobius

[aesthbaby]

Attention pt. 2

Summary: After being the unsub’s latest victim in a joint case with the BAU, you see what was missing. Nothing’s ever been clearer and all it took was being rendered unconscious by an unsub in front of your girlfriend and her entire team. 

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Plus!size reader

Prompt: Check part one

Warnings: cursing | kissing | injury | mentions of a fictional case | poisoning

Word count: 2719

Masterlist

An: I’m pretty sure you can read this as a stand alone if you wanted to but here’s part one. Also, I’m sorry this took me 2 months to publish.

The moon is brighter than the sun? No I’m pretty sure the sun is. What’s wrong with me? Why does my head hurt?

You attempt to reach for your head but your arms are too heavy to be of any use. 

That’s definitely not the moon.

The light source is moving. It’s a flashlight, the pocket sized one.

“Stay with us.” You hear a jumble voice from behind but can’t make out who it is. “We’re almost there.” The light is too bright but you can’t bring yourself to say anything. It hurts. “No, no stay up. We’re almost there.” It’s Emily, and she’s the source of the blinding presence. “Can you sit up for me?” You’re saying yes but nothing seems to come out and all you feel is fatigue. Your body is leaving this earth.

And there she is, yelling your name as its being drowned out by the darkness that’s enveloping you.

~~~~~~~~

“Hey!” Emily shouts from the stairs. “Stop day-dreaming and help me.”

“Help you? What’s going on?” The ground feels unsteady but the scene looks familiar.

Emily sets the box of towels on the counter top. “What?”

“Where am I?” You start to examine your hands, wondering what in the holy hell is happening.

“Babe,” The nickname gets your attention immediately. “Are you okay?”

“Emily,” She places a hand on your forehead.

“No fever.”

“Emily, I’ve already done this.”

“What do you mean?” She laughs. “We’ve been at this for hours. You have may more stuff than you let on. Plus, if we’ve ‘already done this’ I wouldn’t have had to tote all of these boxes by myself.”

A ‘sorry’ almost rolls off your tongue but it doesn’t make a sound. “No, Em I’m being serious.”

She plops down on the white arm chair and let’s out a huff. “Fine, you got me.” At your confused expression, she continues. “We’ve been here before, atleast you have. Three months ago you moved into this apartment with the love of your life, Emily Prentiss.”

Barely managing a stutter, “You’re not Emily?”

“Yes. Well, not exactly. I’m your version of her.”

“Am I-” You swallow the lump in your throat before saying the next part. “Dead?”

“What?” She smiles. “No. Just sleeping. A deep sleep at that.” She mumbles the last part.

“What happened? Why am I here?” You Can feel the panic and dread starting to set in. “I want Emily. I don’t want to be here.”

“Woah.” The brunette stands from her seat. “Calm down, you’re okay. Just take it easy.”

“Easy?” Now the anger is starting to boil. “I’m in a fucking coma with a fake girlfriend and you’re telling me to ‘take it easy??”

“Hey, look at me.” When you don’t move to look at her she gently takes your head. “You’re not in a coma y/n/n. You’re just sleeping.”

A tear starts to wellup in your eye. “But what does that mean?”

“Do you remember why you went to work with me today?”

“Uh,” You trail. “I think it was for a case.”

“Right, but why were you there?”

“Emily mentioned me to Hotch a year ago, about how good of an agent I am. That was before we were together.”

“Right,” She nods while doing that lip biting thing. “But why?”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘why?’ I don’t know why.” You begin to pace the shared loft. “I thought she was just putting in a good word for me.”

“Y/n, you know there’s more to it than that.”

You stop your movement and turn to face her. “Then tell me, you know!”

“No I don’t. I told you in not really her; I’m your version of her. I only know as much as you know.”

You slowly sink down on the plush couch. “I want Emily. I want the real Emily.”

“Then go to her.” She sits beside you and lays a gentle hand on your knee.

“How? I don’t even know why I’m here or what’s going on with me. I just want to go home.” The tears are staring again but not falling.

“Yes you do. Come with me.” She stands and holds out a pale palm to you. Hesitantly taking it, she leads you to your bedroom door. “Are you ready?” As soon as she sees you nod she opens the door and a bright light pulls you both in.

“Em, where are we?” In front of you is the bed to which you’ve been sharing for months now. On it is Emily in one of your big t-shirts on the phone with someone. “Wha-”

“Wait,” Your artificial Emily whispers.

The closet door opens and you step out in the new pajamas she bought you. “You look good.” She smiles with the phone away from her ear.

“Who is that?” You mouth as you crawl into bed with her.

“Hotch.” The classic toothy smile is on display as she replies. “Yes! Sir— I’m sorry but I- no we do not. Okay thank you.”

“What was that?”

“Hotch was asking for my input on the new trainees.”

“And....?”

“I did a thing.” She drags.

“A thing?” You arch your eyebrow.

“Yes.” She moves to straddle your lap.

“What was it?” Her lips on your neck completely scrambles your brain. Effectively making you forget what you were asking.

“What is this? I barely remember it.” You turn to face your rendition of Emily. All you get is a shrug in reply from her. “She wasn’t actually talking about trainees, was she?” Another shrug. “I’ll take that as a no. Was she talking about the poisoning case?” Silence. “She recommended my department to help with the murders.”

“Finally, but you still don’t know why.”

“Do I need to? Why does it actually matter.”

“Come on babe,” She brushes a hand down your arm. “I know you’re smarter than this.”

“Since when do you call me ‘babe?”

“We’ve been over this, I’m not Emily. I’m your version of Emily and apparently you subconsciously wish she’d call you more pet names.”

I’ve never thought of it like that...

“I want to show you something else,” She gestures to the bathroom. “Pay attention this time.” As she leads you through the door you can hear your past self speaking.

“She told me I have a weight problem with a god complex intertwined.” You huff from the bathroom mirror.

“Who?” Em is sitting on the edge of the bath moisturizing.

“That bitch I work with!”

“The same one who asked if Africa was a country?” She scrunches her face up in a disgusted twist.

“Yes! Who says that to someone?”

“Yeah how did she get into the academy anyway?”

“Privilege, both Pretty and Rich.”

She lets out a scuff. “That cannot be real.” You turn to her with a confused look. “Pretty privilege.”

“It’s very real and you clearly have it.”

The brunette stops dead in her tracks. “What?”

“You’re gorgeous Em, and you have been appointed more opportunities for it.”

“I’d like to think differently....” she trails.

“I’m not saying you haven’t worked hard to get where you are today but your looks have pushed you a bit further than the rest of us.”

She’s silent for a bit, to the point where you start to worry that you’ve done something wrong. “Then what does that make you?”

You place your towel on the rack and turn to face her again. “What do you mean?”

“You have the looks, charm, and brains. Do you consider yourself to be ‘privileged?”

Completely bipassing the question, “You think I’m pretty?”

“Was that not obvious before? I practically drool whenever I look at you.” She’s as sincere as always but your eye rolls says you don’t believe her. “I know how you can get trapped inside your head sometimes, but I want you to know that I do not share the opinions you have of yourself. You look at yourself and dismiss your beauty while I embrace it. You’re always doubting your intellect when I find myself wondering how I got so lucky to fall in love with a female version of Spencer.” Your small smile morphs into a laugh at the Spencer mention.

“I can’t stand it when you go all soft on me.” Hearing Emily say stuff like this always surprises you because she’s not really the type of person to confess all of this first. It’s usually you who has to adress your emotions as a couple.

“Only for you.” She leans up and plants a kiss on your cheek.

As the memory fades you turn to the consciousness you’ve been talking to. “Shit.”

“Yup.” She draws.

“The reason she didn’t see my connection to the victims is because she doesn’t see that side of. She doesn’t see me as her ‘Plus-Sized Girlfriend.’ She only sees me as her girlfriend, no other labels attached.”

“So, you get it? Do understand why?”

“I get it now.” A tear teeters on the edge of your eyelid. “Yeah, I get it.”

She snakes an arm around you, effectively pulling you into a tight hug. “Are you ready now?” She even smells like your Emily, the memory making the tear fall from your eye. “Remember what I showed you, okay?” Before you can respond a warm light envelopes you.

It makes sense now, she recommended me for the case because of my abilities, no because we’re together or she wanted me to get ahead. She has a blind spot that’s blocking a good chunk of her perception of me. She couldn’t have known I would’ve been targeted. The unsub could’ve been watching me way before I got involved. There’s still a bunch of holes in the case but this is the best you’ve got. Please remember all of this before you wake up.

Your eyes are heavy again. The room feels cold but warm at the same time. Trying to peak out of one eye proves more difficult than it seems. The blinding light of the room is overwhelming, it’s like white ice. Now I’m not making sense. You try to cry out for someone, anyone, but the words die off on your dry lips before they can formulate. “Hey,” You hear a voice softy call from the other side of the room. A tender hand plants itself on your knee, making you flinch a bit. “Glad to see you awake.” Why do I know that voice? In front of your barely open eye is a blonde blob; as your eyes began to focus you realize it’s Jennifer.

As you try to master a hey all that comes out is a low croak. “Its okay, don’t try to speak just yet.” Everything in your head feels fuzzy but the only thing you’re able to think about is Emily. A hum that barely resembles an ‘M’ boils out your vocal cords.

“Emily?” She clarifies on your behalf. A small smile breaches your features. “I’ll go get her and the doctor.” No less that a minute later you can hear her healed boots tapping towards the room. She rushes to your side, planting kisses along your forehead. The doctor does her round of intake on your body with Emily glued to your side.

“Agent y/l/n should make a full recovery so long as the healing process goes as planned.” Was all you managed to absorb as she explained the aftercare plan for you. All of this while JJ is in the background putting the pieces together. She had a feeling Emily was seeing someone but had no idea that someone was you. The way she’d been acting since you collapsed in the office made her also connect the dots. Emily explained her concerned behavior as a long friendship you two once had. Everything was starting to make sense now; you’re the one person who could break Emily’s walls and tear down this compartmentalization bullshit she has going on. Not wanting to impede on what she can only assume is a private moment, she steps out of the room to inform the rest of the team.

“Are you okay?” It’s like she wants to cry, scream, ball her eyes out but all of that built up emotional strain won’t allow her. Instead of letting her do this to herself, you try your best to shift in the bed. “What are you doing?” You didn’t get very far but now there’s an empty space beside you. Motioning for her to lay next to you actually works. With both of you in the annoying small hospital bed you can hold her closer, feeling the quick heart beat. The brunette head of hair in nuzzled in your chest so not to interfere with the tubes and wires still attached to you.

Taking a deep breath and just enjoying the moment, you finally speak. “I’m okay. I mean I feel like I swallowed sandpaper but I’m okay.” You can almost feel the sigh release from her chest.

“We still have no idea how you were poisoned or why you were targeted.” Her jaded voice is always never this emotional, it’s strange to hear her so vulnerable. “For the smartest minds of the FBI we feel a little stupid.” The laugh the bounces around in your throat is painful, still welcomed. “Baby,” She starts after a moment of silence. “If I have realized the connection between you and the victims, I wouldn’t have let you work this.”

“You didn’t know,” You have no idea where this is coming from but something in the back of your mind is telling you to explain it to her. “You don’t see all of me, Em.”

She sniffles and buried herself deeper into you. “When I look at you, all I see is you. I don’t see your weight or your figure, I only see you. My girlfriend. You’re right, that’s the problem. I’m only seeing part of you. Not all of you. I don’t deserve you.” She moves to stand but you quickly pull her back in before she gets the chance.

“You can’t run from this, Emily. I understand that you didn’t do this intentionally.”

“My actions- blindness almost costed you your life. I can’t put you in danger again.” When she pulls away you let her go this time.

“Emily. You’ve ran away from your own shadow before, aren’t you tired?”

“If it means keeping you safe, I’ll file a fucking restraining order!” She nearly yells.

“Don’t do that. Everytime you fuck up you get that look in your eye like I’m going to break up with you or something. I’m not. I know you’re waiting on the other shoe to drop but I promise it’s not. All of those other guys you’ve been with? I’m not them. Big difference is that I’m female and a lot more mature. I’m also not as psychotic as he who shall not be named.” A small smile breaches her features. “I love you. Rather you like it or not, you’re stuck with me.”

“Oh really? Wait until Garcia finds out I’ve been hiding this from her. She’s going to wanna know all about you. You’ll definitely be invited to the next girls night.”

“I don’t mind.” You shrug. “But seriously, how did I get poisoned?”

“The forensic team is still searching our place, nothing yet but you know they like to take their sweet time with cases. I’ve obviously be recused from the case while the rest of the team works with the CDC and the Anti-terrorism division. We also have agents and Unis posted outside the room and hospital so the Unsub has no chance of coming after you again. Even an added air filter so he has no vent system.” She waves towards the attachment on top of the existing air vent. No wonder the air smells so crisp in here.

“Sounds like I’m in good hands.”

“You are, just wish I could be out there with them.”

“You’re right where you need to be, right where I need you.” You stretch your arms out to her like the way a child does.

She laughs at the gesture but complies. Instead of squishing into the small bed she drags the chair to the side of your bed, firmly clasping your hand in her’s.

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#criminal minds #emily prentiss #agent emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #bau #reader x emily prentiss #x reader #fbi x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #fbi #y/n x emily prentiss #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss x plus size reader #plus size reader

[cas-kingdom]

Fortify

A/N: Set during season 1 when Arthur Shelby Sr. turns up. Just something short, but still sweet nonetheless!

Reader is about 10, aged down as of 2022 to best fit my OC!reader’s timeline.

Find the OC version of this fic here.

Title: Fortify

Summary: Tommy told you years ago that your father was dead, but now you’re faced with the truth.

Words: 1709

“Who are you?”

The man you’d just directed your question to turned in his seat. He had dark grey hair, eyes swirling with an inexplainable hint of something familiar, and was dressed almost as smartly as the rest of the lads in Small Heath, except maybe a little smarter.

At the sight of you stood in the doorway, hands by your side at the gun you had tucked away in your pocket, those eyes widened, and his mouth opened partly in what could only be clarified as awe.

“Who are you?” You repeated your question. Perhaps he couldn’t speak English. Maybe that was the reason he hadn’t answered you. You weren’t sure, and yet you desperately needed a response before you decided to call for one of your brothers.

“I, uh-” He stumbled over his words. He stood to his feet and straightened out his tie, and you lifted your eyes to follow his. “My name is Arthur.” The Irish accent floated across the room, and your eyebrows involuntarily rose at the sound of it.

“Are you a gypsy? One of Johnny Dogs’s? Have you come to see Tommy?”

The man shook his head. “I’ve already seen Thomas.”

You stared at him. Nobody ever called him Thomas unless it was Polly in a bad mood.

“Why are you here, then?”

He stepped forward but you stood your ground, simply raising your chin and making your hand’s intention to grab the gun known. He put both hands up and shook his head. “I’m not here to hurt you, child. Just… well. I wanted to see you.”

“Me?” What could an Irishman want with you?

“Yes. See… I’m your father.”

Every possible thought disappeared the moment those words left his lips. Whether it was as obvious as you wondering who he was or as simple as a question of what Polly was going to cook for dinner that night… they disintegrated immediately.

“No, you’re not,” you said. Insisted. Your father was-

“I am.” He took another step forward.

“You stay away!” This time, you took your own step back, pulling your gun out while you were at it.

Somewhere, deep down, you knew he was speaking the truth, and yet your willingness to believe it was almost second to zero. After all, those eyes were Tommy’s. And Finn’s. And John’s, and Ada’s and your Arthur’s.

And yours, you supposed.

“Now, Y/N, don’t you point that gun at me-”

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

“Put the gun do-”

“Tell me who the fuck you are!”

It was after this yell that you felt someone wrench the weapon from you, and you twisted around in time to see Tommy with it in his hands, looking positively outraged. Polly had raced in behind him and quickly gathered you into your arms. You hadn’t realised you’d begun to cry, but you had, and now you were sobbing as Tommy aimed the gun he’d wrangled from your grip at the man.

“I thought I’d told you to get out,” he said lowly. Dangerously.

“Ah, come on, son,” he replied. “I couldn’t leave without seeing my darling girl again.”

Tommy shook his head, and the gun shook with him. “You’re lucky you got to lay your eyes on her for as long as you did.”

You couldn’t understand. Your father – whether he was this man or another – was dead. Literally. Tommy had told you so. Everyone had told you so. But Tommy had first, one day when you were seven years old and your school had hosted some sort of event where the children’s fathers came to spend the day with them. You’d asked where yours was – you’d been too young to remember when he’d left – and he’d sat you down and told you he’d died fighting in a war, and that that was what you could proudly tell your classmates when they asked.

So, you couldn’t understand. Was he a ghost? Had he come back from the dead?

Those were better than the other, saner option that Tommy had lied to you.

The man stared hard at Tommy. “Shouldn’t she get to decide if she wants to talk with her father or not?” He glanced behind his son at you, still gathered in your aunt’s arms.

“Her father died a long time ago.” There was silence. A silence you couldn’t bear. So, you pushed away from Polly and raced out of the room.

Tommy glanced behind him as you did so. He looked at his father for one more moment, the distaste clear in the blues of his eyes, before passing the gun to Polly. “Make sure he gets the fuck out,” he told her before quickly rushing after you.

Arthur Shelby Sr. looked at his sister. “He told her I had died?” he asked, a genuine sense of hurt in his voice.

“Of course he bloody did,” Polly told him. “Because having a father who died fighting for his country is better than having one who walked out on his family.”

She stepped forward and lifted the gun. “Now get the hell out of this house.”

“Y/N!” Tommy called as he ran after you. The way you were going, he was quite certain you’d be out the door and onto the streets in no time, and with the state you were in he doubted he’d find you as soon as he would have liked, so he increased his pace, coat billowing behind him, and once he had you in his view he jumped forward and grabbed you as gently as he could. He pulled you back and into his arms, and the moment he did so, you turned and slapped at him.

“He’s alive!” you sobbed. “My dad’s fucking alive and you never told me!”

“Yes-” Tommy let you hit him, knowing he deserved it- “yes, I know. I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“For years I’ve been saying he’s dead! Everyone must’ve thought me so fucking stupid!”

“No one thinks you’re stupid, Y/N,” he assured you, holding your upper arms tightly. At a particularly strong punch to his chest, he took your fists in his and pulled you closer to him, pinning you to him and wrapping his arms around you. “Hey, hey,” he said, glad when you didn’t pull away. You simply broke down in his hold, and he held you, resting his chin on the top of your head and rocking you slightly. “No one thinks you’re stupid.”

“I do,” you cried into his shirt.

Tommy sighed and shut his eyes. He’d never believed it would come to this. He’d hoped his father would have the nerve to stay away so that the story he’d told you when you were seven would remain true until your dying day and consequently your heart would remain whole. He’d believed that would happen after his father had visited the house earlier that morning when you’d miraculously been helping Charlie down at the yard. He’d told the man to leave... but apparently his stubbornness had come from somewhere.

“Don’t,” he said quietly, his hand on the back of your head. “Please, don’t.”

You sniffed and drew your head back. “Why did you do it? Why did you lie to me? Why did everyone lie to me?”

Tommy looked utterly defeated. His eyes bore into yours and you could almost feel the conflicting emotions emanating from him there and then. Your own eyes were likely red and puffy, stubborn tears clinging to your lashes while more docile ones rolled down your cheeks and lay forgotten on the floor. Much like you, you supposed, to your father.

Your brother absently shook his head and gently grasped both sides of your face, rubbing a couple tears away with his thumb. “Because when that man left us, I was devastated,” he told you, “and I couldn’t bear for you to feel the same way.” He swallowed thickly and you remained silent, staring sullenly at him, your hands on his wrists now. “So, I told you he’d died. I told you he’d died, and he’d died for a good cause, so you’d never in your life feel like you’d been abandoned. That’s the worst kind of feeling.” His voice was quiet, and you couldn’t help it as your eyes welled up with further tears simply at the sound of it.

You took in a shaky breath. “You were just protecting me,” you concluded.

Tommy sighed. “In my own way. Maybe it was the wrong way, but I can’t turn back now.” He brought your head back to his chest again and looked up. “That man in there is a shit excuse for a father,” he told you. “I don’t want him to hurt you.”

You shook your head, tightening your hold around his waist. “He won’t,” you said. “I won’t go near him.” You felt Tommy nod in what could only be relief. “Did Finn know?”

“Finn never asked.”

“Oh.”

 The two of you stayed there a while longer before you pulled away and looked up at him, sniffing slightly. “For what it’s worth, thank you.”

He rose an eyebrow. “For lying to you?”

“No,” you said with a breath of a laugh, “for protecting me from the truth. I’m not angry. Not anymore.”

He leaned forward and placed a kiss on your forehead. “Good.” Glancing behind him for the briefest of moments, he wondered if Polly had gotten rid of the man again. Like hell did Arthur Shelby not stay where he wasn’t welcome…

“Ah, and one more thing,” he said, as though suddenly remembering something, which, really, he had, “never pull your gun out like that again, okay?” As with Tommy, there was a hint of sternness in his voice, and one dark eyebrow was higher than the other, but you nodded nonetheless, looking down at his shoes.

“I know I wasn’t supposed to,” you told him, “but… well…” And you glanced up, face contorted into one of sheepishness, and lowered your voice. “I thought he was a ghost.”

Tommy chuckled and shook his head. “I think I’d rather him be a ghost, to be honest. Come on, now.” He slung his arms around your shoulders. “Let’s go for a walk while Polly deals with her brother.” 

Peaky Masterpost

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy x reader #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #reader fic #sister!reader #sister reader #polly shelby #polly gray #arthur shelby #arthur shelby sr #john shelby #ada shelby #finn shelby #mine #shelby

[bastillewolf]

Midnight In Sheffield (VII)

Pairing: Alex Turner/Reader

Summary: When a soon-to-be-wedded insomniac author heads back home to visit her parents, she comes across the likes of a mysterious musician whilst on her sleepless escapade in the AM.

Notes: I took a bit longer to write this chapter, and thank you all so much for the patience. If you didn’t know yet; I got accepted into a writing school! I can’t express the gratitude I feel right now, I owe it all to you. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy.

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list!

Chapter VII - I Wanna Be Yours

Her feet dragged across the pavement, and this time they showed no hesitance because they knew exactly where they were going.

She didn’t find the building she was looking for the first corner she rounded, so she took a detour, until the lights seemed to change and the asphalt disappeared and she nearly tripped over the uneven brick road. A group of men turned their heads when they’d heard her swear loud enough she was sure she’d woken up the deaf grandma that lived in the attic at the end of the street.

As soon as she met his eyes in the pub, she wasted no time do drag him away from a very confused Matt, out to the hallway where the bathrooms were. They were occupied by couples doing, well, what you can imagine they were doing, as well as ladies trying to not-so-subtly sniff a questionable substance from its counters, but she couldn’t be bothered right now. Alex didn’t seem surprised to see her, and it irritated her how calm he was while she was practically having a mental breakdown.

“Guess who I met this morning,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

He raised a brow disdainfully, almost offended by the way she was manhandling him and throwing vague questions at him. But she didn’t waver, so he thought he’d humour her anyway. “The wedding planner? I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to be a bit more specific,” he replied.

“Oh, I’ll be a bit more specific,” she ground out, “I was just about to head down for breakfast, when I found that my mum had guests over. A couple, about her age, people I’d never even met before. But somehow, they seemed familiar to me.”

Alex hesitated. He had a feeling where this was going, yet remained silent.

“That’s when I learned their last names. Turner. And they told me all about their missing son, and how he hadn’t even left a note saying he was leaving, and how worried they were. That the only reason they hadn’t called the police yet was because you’d pulled off stunts like this before. But that now, you’ve been gone for years. Without a word.”

“I don’t think it’s any of your business, really-“

“Oh, don’t you fucking start with me, Turner. You made it my business when you started interfering with mine.”

It took her a moment to realize why her mouth was tingling. He had his lips pressed against hers, and they were warm and inviting. He tasted like what she’d expected him to this time around; expensive whiskey with a hint of smoke. His eyes were closed, and without those piercing brown orbs staring back up at her, she almost thought she was kissing someone else.

Hang on a minute.

She shoved him back, “You can’t just do that!”

He raises his eyebrows innocently. “Why not?”

“You’re trying to distract me!”

“Whether or not you get distracted by me is irrelevant, love. I was just hoping we could have a good time, and I was, until you nearly knocked me off my feet and dragged me out into some dirty hallway.”

She glared at him, “You deserved that. I’m engaged.”

Looking across the hall and around the bar, he casually shrugged. “I don’t see him anywhere. And I certainly didn’t hear you complaining last night.”

She felt it at the pit of her stomach when faced with reality; a deep, underlying sense of guilt. What had happened between her and Alex, was something she hadn’t ever felt before. And that scared her senseless. It shouldn’t happen. It couldn’t happen. And she had to make it very evident to him, that this could not go on this way. She had Mark, ad he was all she needed. He didn’t deserve this. Neither of them did.

“Alex, what happened yesterday, it was a mistake. I shouldn’t have let it get to that point, and I’m sorry I led you to believe that I felt that same interest in you that you have for me. It can’t happen again, and I hope you understand.”

He seemed indifferent, but his words were harsh as he took a step closer to her, up until the point where she could feel his hot breath fanning across her already burning cheeks. “You can blame it on wedding nerves, or insomnia, or insecurities all you want, love. But I think you and I both know that last night really meant something. I can’t blame you for lying to me, I really don’t mind. I’ve had enough lies thrown at me before. The thing is, though, I won’t let you lie to yourself. You’re better than that, smarter than that. And most importantly, you deserve better than to be in a situation where you have to lie to yourself to not give into those feelings.”

“Alex-“

“I’ll tell you all about my parents. About what’s going on. About why everything seems to be stuck in time when the moon finally hits the sky. I’ll tell you, but only if you’ll tell me how you really feel.”

“I…” She hesitated.

All she could think about was that night Mark walked away from her. She thought of how sad her mother would be to hear she wouldn’t get married after all. She thought of Rachel and James, who would be telling her they told her so, and then laugh about it all behind their back.

She thought of what might happen to her if Mark wasn’t there. How was she going to get around?

She thought of all that time wasted, trying to make something work that might not have ever been intended to work at all.

“…I don’t know what to feel right now.”

She looked up at him in search for answers, but he wasn’t willing to give her any.

“I feel… scared, confused… and most of all, fucking tired.”

She was glad to see the corner of his mouth quirk up at that at the very least, and comforted when he slung his arm around her shoulders, and said, “Let’s go get you a coffee, then.”

 ***

Alphonse was a trained chef from years of hard work at the cook’s school in Paris. He knew how to make any dish, in any way, shape or form, and most importantly; how to make one with love. It might sound cheesy, but everyone knows that’s the key ingredient to a successful meal.

Alphonse was very good at cooking and working with love. He was also very good with the ladies, if he was allowed to say so himself. But he had to admit, his temperament was short, and he was awfully bad at being patient with people who were subconsciously withholding affection from one another.

So, when Mr. Turner had stepped back into the restaurant with his Cherie asking for a cup of coffee and looking mighty burdened with heavy topic, he scraped back his chair, and stormed off into the kitchen to angrily grind some coffee beans.

“Is he all right?” she wondered, as she hung her coat over her chair.

Alex shrugged it off.

Furthermore, even though their cups nearly cracked from the force Alphonse smacked them onto their table with, the restaurant was as quiet as ever at this hour.

“I suppose I’ll leave you to it, then,” the chef grumbled, and strutted back into his kitchen.

She turned back to the steaming dark liquid, trying to focus her attention on the swirls her spoon were creating instead of the tense feelings she got from being alone with Alex once more.

“It’s a long story,” he finally spoke up, “But I need you to look at me while I tell it.”

She did as asked.

 ***

“When we were still in school, we’d already started the band. Played a few gigs here and there. Managed to catch the eye of a record company once someone had put some of our demos online. We got lucky, and managed to release a few albums with them. But fame isn’t all that fun anymore when your last record flopped and your manager is trying to sell you out.

I’d gone home for a few weeks to think things through; what I wanted to do with what was left of my career. So I went for a walk, late at night.”

She gave him a knowing look, and he nodded conformingly.

“I met Miles at Mardy’s. A pub I’d never seen before, in a street I’d never walked through. I thought I’d seen all of Sheffield when I was younger, but it turns out I was wrong. For when the clock strikes an uncertain hour, and you watch the ground shift beneath your feet when you’re not paying attention, you walk right into what appears to be a glorified version of the twenties.”

She recalled their gig on that night she’d also met Miles. “So your guitars…”

“I’d just taken them from home,” he confirmed, “No electric guitars invented yet at that time, so I had to bring them myself. Strangest thing is, the people don’t question it at all. They just think it’s another fancy new instrument that hasn’t officially hit the market yet.”

“So, what? You just decided to continue your life at night here?” she asked.

“It was simpler. I don’t have to run from the paparazzi, or do interviews where people question my sanity all the time, or get dragged for who I date or knock about with. We released an album with instruments and music that’s way ahead of its time here, and we’re seen as legends. It’s as simple as that.”

“But, Alex… I think this album could easily hit the top charts in the regular world.”

He scoffed, “They said that about our last album. And the one before that. And when they don’t do as well as you’d expect them to, people will say it’s ‘underrated’, but you know deep inside you could’ve done better.”

“Music is about more than just hitting the top charts,” she reminded him.

“I know. Yet it appears that the feeling of validation through it has left a bigger mark on me than I had expected. I expected more from my own music, and was disappointed when I couldn’t deliver. I’ve finally found a place where everyone enjoys my music again.”

“So, what? You just decide to spend the rest of your life here, a fantasy world in an attempt to hide from reality? From your family, all the people who care about you?”

“It’s not as simple as that.”

“It’s not as simple? I think you just made it very clear how simple this all really is,” she said.

“Matt thought the same thing. Until he started playing with us for the first few nights, and even he was convinced. It’s hard to explain. It’s why he didn’t want you to stay around for too long when we hung out in the pub. This place gets to you.”

“He was just convinced after a few good shows?”

“I don’t think you understand,” he said, “If you stay here too long, if you spend too many nights in this version of Sheffield, you won’t be as willing to leave. It’s like an addiction; a place where all your dreams come true, if only for a little while, a few hours maybe. But you just can’t stay away from it. Once it takes hold of you, you can’t escape.”

Her brows furrowed. “What are you trying to say? You’re stuck here like this forever?”

His eyes cast downwards. “I couldn’t say. But I’ve never had good reason to leave.”

Her heart was swelling in her chest. “And what if you did have a reason?”

“What?”

“What… What if I wanted you to leave… with me?”

It was as if a spark flashed in his eyes, but then quickly snuffed out. “Don’t do that,” he huffed, “Don’t give me hope. You should be out there, living your life without chasing after the ghost of a man and blaming it on your insomnia.”

She took hold of his hand across the table, and squeezed it tightly, too afraid he’d take off if she didn’t. “I should be out there, living my life. But so should you. You’ve made me feel things I thought I was unable to feel, and I wouldn’t have experienced any of this if it wasn’t for you. You can still escape from this, Alex. I know you can. I can’t do this without you.”

“It’s not that simple, love.”

“Why not?”

“You shouldn’t want me.”

“Don’t you want me, then?”

His brown orbs lit up passionately, as he leaned forwards and captured her lips in a kiss. “Of course. I want to be yours,” he muttered.

He deepened the kiss, gliding his tongue against her bottom lip suggestively. She opened her mouth and her tongue met his, sliding against it and drawing a quiet moan from her throat. He held her cheek in his hand and slid his thumb over her soft skin gently.

When she pulled back, she had finally made up her mind. “I need to speak with Mark.”

*** @alexbandguy86​​​​ @bettyschwallocksyee​​​​ @fookingsummertime​​​​​ @juicebox-baby​​​​@darksydork7​​​​ @edgythought​​​​ @ssadderdaze​​​​​ @h0twasabi​​​​​ @rogerseyeliner​​​​​ @arctic-monkcys​ @toolateformcrtooearlytoleaveemo​ @rosemallowss​

#Arctic Monkeys #Arctic Monkeys Fanfic #Alex Turner Fanfic #Alex Turner #Alex Turner x reader #Alex Turner/Reader #The Last Shadow Puppets #TLSP #AM #Jamie Cook #Nick O'Malley #Matt Helders #Miles Kane #Humbug #Suck It And See #whatever people say i am that's what i'm not #favorite worst nightmare #Midnight In Sheffield

[transsexualhamlet]

the misogynistic character of mahiru hiragi

So a while back (this could have been a few weeks ago, I don’t remember where I saw it) But I saw some post that basically accused people that didn’t like mahiru of being sexist, which of course is bullshit, I don’t like her because her character in and of itself is a sexist one. Badly written, unrealistic, and incredibly misogynistic. 

In some ways I like the idea of the character. I like the idea of what Mahiru stans see her as- strong, capable, smart, independent, a top- (ok I’ll shut up) and that’s epic. But to be honest the way she’s portrayed in catastrophe at 16, in which her character is developed... she’s just... not. Mahiru apologists and the like want to seperate her demon self from her human self and show that she’s not actually a bad person, it’s just her demon, etc, etc, I’ve heard it all before. Yeah, of course that’s valid that her demon has a different personality than her, but to be honest all the actually good characteristics Mahiru has are then blamed on her demon.

Her human personality is to be honest quite pathetic.

It’s nice to think of it that way- that Guren and her had a nice happy friendship when they were kids and that the possibility of that was taken away from them out of their control, but when you look at that it’s not really the case.

Five year old Mahiru somehow manages to get onto Ichinose lands and watches Guren while he’s training, the girl comes up to him and starts touching his bruises at random and THEN asks “hey can I touch your wounds” like bitch?? Guren’s all “uuh who are you” and she’s like I’m the fairy of the woods ;) and that’s all well and good, cute, but the fact is most five year olds really aren’t fixated on romance like that? Reading that backstory bit, literally all she ever talks to guren about is romance. She’s five. They should be telling bad jokes and playing hide and seek and being stupid kids. And the only thing she ever talks about having a crush and wanting to get married and shit. I don’t see Guren giving a fuck about that and it doesn’t seem realistic that Guren’s affected by that. Some girls can be like that, yes, but not all the time, and guys definitely aren’t talking about lovey dovey stuff at five.

I would have loved it if Kagami gave them a genuine good relationship.

They never really had much of a real friendship, it was just Mahiru flirting with a pretty unresponsive Guren. Mahiru was always talking about gender roles and how he was supposed to do stuff for her (even though she’s clearly stronger and smarter) and that all she wanted to do when she grew up was be a pretty bride. Get some goals, child.

So eventually Guren finds out that Mahiru’s actually a hiragi and gets beat up by them even denying that he’d seen her. Mahiru should realize at that point being with him is going to cause him pain. Not her. Guren is blamed for all of it and Mahiru gets away scot free. And yet she comes back again just because she TOLD Guren to buy her cake. Guren bought her cake. She came back and she knew that Guren was going to get the shit beat out of him and Mahiru would be fine, and they would say that Guren was at fault.

She was clinging to him and hurting him for her own selfish reasons.

Her reasoning was literally “the hiragis killed my mom and I wanted to do something they’d hate”. She’s five. That makes perfect sense, I guess. And it’s not like she doesn’t have reason to hate the hiragis, of course, but she’s literally only hurting someone else. It means nothing to the hiragis. I think that’s completely forgiveable. She’s five, it doesn’t matter. She was characterized kind of badly and by a kinda sexist author, but so was every other girl in catastrophe (don’t think I don’t notice.) But that continues. Ten years later. TEN YEARS LATER she’s still pining over him. Hasn’t seen him since she was five years old and talked to him for like what?? A month?? 

Everyone at the start of the story is all “oh I feel so bad for you guren, I won’t tell you that she’s engaged, you must feel so hurt” and guren’s all I’m literally not?? I I haven’t seen her since I was five I’m so over her I literally don’t care. 

Mahiru comes up to him and asks him if he’s gotten stronger for her and he says no. He got stronger for himself and his clan and to be honest he doesn’t really want to get involved with her. And she acts just... badly. 

One thing that I just dislike is how she pretends to be a bottom for gender roles like that bitch??? She is a top. And yet every time she’s all “OwO I wish you were stronger than me so I didn’t have to do the work smh I’m just a poor girl I shouldn’t have to be strong you should be strong for me I can’t possibly do anything on my own I need a man” and Guren’s like,,, just so not for that.

She got herself into this mess, to be honest, and it was all so Kagami could play the “oh look at this, isn’t it such a tragedy that Mahiru’s a strong woman she’s such a victim she had to be the dominant one when women are supposed to be submissive, all she ever wanted was for Guren to be better than her” I can’t stand it. It’s sickening. It’s like kagami is playing her as an example of why women are better off not strong, saying her problem is her strength and independence. No, her problem is she’s still simping after a boy who literally hasn’t given a fuck about her since he was five. She would be so much better off if she moved on and found a purpose in life for herself.

All of her good traits are portrayed as evil and demonic and blamed on her demonic self- and then Kagami makes her say stuff like “oh no I wish you would start acting like a top guren because I’m so clearly a bottom and my demon is the one making me act like a top i’m so sorry” oh my god. I would have honestly liked the mahiru and guren fucking scene if she’d just fucking admit she’s the dominant one and move on? Guren doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, you’re acting so pathetic and he’s stupid and every time a word comes out of her mouth I groan. Guren’s all “I’m not letting you have your way with me” and she’s all “uwu i’d much rather you have your way with me hehehe” like you’re really not. You’re not convincing anyone Guren literally thinks “it was like he was being dominated and he was made to like it”. 

She’s a bad person as a demon but she has good character traits and then she tries to play it off every time she’s actually strong by being a stupid manipulative whiny bitch. And that’s Kagami’s fault. Kagami takes the “Guren’s the heroine” line and makes it out to be a bad thing. It shouldn’t be and neither should her bad traits be played as tragic and sympathetic and her good traits be played as evil and wrong.

I’m not attacking Mahiru stans, because you take her and make her the strong character Kagami can’t manage. I like you. I wish that version of herself was the truth. I just wanna bitch about how Kagami wrote her and move on.

#owari no seraph #seraph of the end #catastrophe at 16 #guren ichinose #mahiru hiragi #kagami stop writing all your girls as helpless lambs challenge #i'm not attacking mahiru stans i like mahiru stans #rowan's hyperfixation essays

[krixel]

So, I’ve had a horrendous fucking week (family, am I right?) and I have, admittedly, had more than one glass of Scotch to drink (family, am I right?) but I was doing a dive into my old Beyblade Tala/Trey WIPs, which were written entirely for me because I’d never ever considered the thought of coming back to posting fanfiction, let alone Tala/OC fanfiction - that joke is forever on me but GLU is my trope riddled passion project baby that you can pry from my cold dead hands - and I’d forgotten about this bizarre Tala has a twin, whose identity he stole, government experiment mess of an AU that I still love.

So yeah, here’s the less than 2,000 words start of that story, because why not? So, if you’re at all interested in another Tala/Trey AU where they’re established and Tala has a twin... here it is. Also, my writing is rough, because it’s from 3 years ago, and I wrote it on my phone while I was making dinner.

The door opened once the stairs had been secured, and the ball of tension that had started in his stomach crawled up Kai’s throat. There was only a single passenger on the private jet, and the afternoon sun gleamed against his blond hair as he emerged. A laptop bag was slung across his body and he gripped the handle of a small suitcase. Kai would never get used to seeing him; a grownup version of a past ghost. Kai pushed off the hood of his Mercedes and moved to meet the newcomer as he reached the tarmac. Blue eyes - hollow and colder than the snow that fell around them - gave him a once over before he tilted his head in acknowledgment. “Kai. I see my brother still has you running his errands like a good dog.”

“Mikaela. I see time has done nothing to improve your charm,” Kai said, resisting the urge to scold the other for his casual use of his relationship with Tala.

“Forgive me. Unlike others, I cannot put on a false face when looking at one of the people who ruined my life,” Mikaela said, striding past Kai and towards the awaiting car.

Kai rolled his eyes but followed the other to the car. He popped the trunk but did not offer to put away Mikaela’s luggage. His unwelcome guest took the hint and did it himself. He climbed into the passenger seat, and Kai was hitting the gas almost before the door closed. “We did give you a choice,” Kai said after a while. “You chose to keep breathing.”

Mikaela huffed, the sound brushing against amusement, and eyed Kai from his peripheral. “I have always been curious, Kai. In all these years, other than the one obvious crime, you seem to be a decent sort of person. How do you stomach calling a monster like my brother friend?”

Kai’s knuckles whitened around the steering wheel, but his tone was a notch above boredom. “Tala is my best friend,” he said. “And if I have ever given you the impression that I was decent, then I apologize. Tala was the one who wanted to let you live. I told him it was smarter to kill you. You're a liability.”

“How quaint, after all, was I not Tala, once upon a time?”

“Not in any of the ways that matter,” Kai said.

Mikaela clicked his tongue but said nothing else for the remainder of the drive, just propped his chin on his fist and watched the once familiar city pass by the window. As Kai pulled into the underground parking for Tala’s building, Mikaela tensed, gloved hands curling into fists at the pressing darkness. Kai scoffed as he shut off the car. “Relax, Mikaela,” he said. “You're the one who wanted an in-person meeting, so don't act like we're going to drag you out back and shoot you.”

“Given past experience, can you blame me?” Mikaela asked as he pushed open the car door, hiding his relief at finding it unlocked.

Kai shrugged and tucked his hands in his pockets as he waited for the other to retrieve his suitcase. “Like I said, you’re the one who wanted to be here.”

“Wanted is an exceptionally powerful word. I was put in a situation that was unsafe to express by any other means,” Mikaela said. He popped the handle on his suitcase and followed Kai to the side door of the building. A man with a buzz cut and arms the size of tree trunks opened the door for them, acknowledging Kai with a grunt and frowning at Mikaela.

Kai returned the nod, a wry smile twisting his lips. “Leave him be for now. Tala will let you know if that changes.”

Mikaela bristled at the threat but under the brutal look from the guard - more like ex-military or grizzly bear fighter - kept his mouth shut. As Kai cleared both the retinal scanner and fingerprint, Mikaela lifted an eyebrow. “A bit paranoid, isn't he?”

“Can't imagine why?” Was the dry response as Kai turned his key and the elevator finally started its ascent.

Despite the massive height of the building, the elevator ride was quick and silent, and Mikaela’s lip curled in disgust at the lavish foyer beyond the wrought iron gate. Kai unlocked it and pushed it aside, then motioned Mikaela out first before he followed. Mikaela towed off his boots by the door, but made no effort to remove his jacket or scarf. Kai patted him on the shoulder as he walked by, his smile just the dull side of vicious. “Island life thin your Russian blood? Or are you not planning to stay long?”

“He won't be staying long.” Tala stepped out of the living room, the sound of the tv still audible in the openess of his penthouse, and stood with a hand braced on his hip. “Hello, Mika.”

Blue eyes clashed, one pair narrowing while the other glittered with deceptive amusement. Mikaela fought down a snarl, but his expression remained blank. If he let Tala rile him so soon, they would get nowhere. “Yuriy.” Mikaela looked around their surroundings before his attention returned to the redhead. “It looks like you are doing well for yourself.”

Tala’s smile sharpened against the whetstone of the taunt. “You act like I don't share it with you,” he said. “Or is there something you want that I haven't given you?”

“What I want cannot be bought, no matter how much wealth you accumulate,” Mika said.

Tala shrugged. “I better not have flown you all the way here just to rehash your grievances against me, Mika,” he said. “Getting you back into the country undetected wasn't easy.”

“I wasn't aware I existed, as far as anyone else was concerned.”

Before the rising tension could escalate further another set of footsteps sounded from the direction of the living room. Trey came around the corner, eyes flicking towards Kai, then the newcomer, and then back to Kai. “Damn. I thought you left to get pizza,” she said. “Is that even a thing here? You guys do have pizza in Russia, right? Oh my god, if not I need to go home, right now.”

Tala snorted at his girlfriend, his shoulders easing despite the proximity of Mika, and Kai resisted the urge to hug Trey for her brilliance. There was no way she'd missed the rising threat in the foyer, but she diffused Tala with the expertise of a bomb unit. She moved to Tala’s side, tucking herself under his arm and against his side. “Why do all of your friends look like they walked off magazine covers? Seriously?”

“We are not friends,” Mika said, eyes surveying Trey with confusion. He was the dirty little secret Tala kept locked far away from him, and yet Tala did not seem at all concerned about the girl’s presence.

“Co-worker? Arch nemesis? Is that still a thing?”

“Twin brother, though I suppose arch nemesis isn't entirely out of the question,” Tala cut her off.

Even Kai’s eyebrows lifted at Tala’s casual admittance to Mika’s identity. Trey blinked, and waited for the punchline, though as she looked closer it was impossible to deny the resemblance - really it came down to Tala’s ridiculous hair. And then with the horror of someone who has just realized they left their child at a store, said, “You mean there's two of you in the world?”

“It's still up for debate which one is the evil one,” Kai said, as he shrugged out of his jacket.

“You knew?” Trey asked, then frowned at the obvious question. “Of course you knew. You just picked him up from the airport.”

Tala smiled as Trey devolved into her nervous rambling, and tightened his arm around her. “Why don’t you go spend some time with Kai while Mika and I catch up?”

Trey blinked at the obvious dismissal, but nodded. Tala tended to tell her the truth, so if he wanted her gone for that conversation then he had good reason. Trey lifted on her toes and Tala tilted his head down to meet her kiss. He lifted his arm and Trey shuffled away from him, sparing a glance for Mika. “Um… nice to meet you?” Mika stared at her without expression and said nothing. “Right, or not, I guess.”

Tala’s eyes narrowed but said nothing, and Trey crossed the foyer to Kai, who rolled his eyes and ushered her towards the stairs. “Ignore him,” he said. “Mika hates Tala and anyone associated with him. It's nothing personal to you.”

“So, Tala has a twin?” she asked. “And they hate each other, but no one thought to mention it.”

Kai ran his hand through his hair, expression pinched with frustration. “It's complicated, and probably better left for Tala to explain,” he said. “I wouldn't even know where to start. I'm sorry he showed up now, though, while your here. It’s not going to make for the best vacation.”

“It seemed serious,” Trey said, remembering the black mood Tala descended into after that particular phone call. “And you seemed surprised Tala introduced us?”

“I was,” Kai said, opening the door to the game room and letting Trey step through first. “Tala is - guarded - about Mika.”

Trey flopped onto one of the couches in the room, propping her chin on her fist. “You thought Tala would lie to me?” Her tone walked a delicate balance between curiosity and hurt, and Kai realized his next words needed to be careful.

“Yes,” he admitted, and took a seat on a chair facing Trey. “About Mika’s identity, at least. It's hard to explain without explaining everything, but no one knows about Mika except me, and Ian because he hacked Tala’s files once.”

Trey laughed. “Tala had to be furious.”

Kai’s smile was faint. “Ian stayed with me for a couple of weeks while Tala calmed down,” he said. “I think that's the maddest I’ve ever seen him at Ian, but it worked out. Ian lives here, better for him to know.”

“But not me?”

Kai shook his head. “If that were the case, Tala wouldn't have introduced you. Believe me, I’m relieved. Don't mistake my surprise for judgment.”

“Why is the fact that Tala has a twin such a big deal?”

“Because, if the wrong people found out, it would end me,” Tala said.

Kai and Trey looked up at the intrusion and Tala smiled. He sat down beside Trey and adjusted when she cuddled against his side. “Mika’s getting settled,” Tala said to Kai’s look. “I figured you’d be giving her cryptic explanations, and thought it'd be better for me to just explain.”

“I wish someone would,” Trey said, elbowing Tala in the ribs.

Tala kissed the top of her head. “Knowing my darkest secrets isn't as appealing as it might seem, just ask Kai,” he said. “Last chance to bow out.”

“Tala, you were a psychotic lunatic I used to hate. Let's be clear that my opinion of you is pretty low, already,” Trey said.

The tension in Tala eased again and he relaxed against her. “Right. Somehow, I keep forgetting that bit.”

#holy dialogue exposition dump batman #yikes this is rough #but also nice to see how I've improved #and literally was never intended for more eyes than mine #and I already knew the story #so yeah #here's a thing #excuse me while I go panic about posting it later #er also zero intention of ever continuing this #it's literally here for kicks

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Dazed and Confused (Part 5)

Summary: Dean Winchester grew up wanting to be a cop. When he gets kicked out of the police academy on a fluke though, he turns to a life of crime. After breaking up with Dean and seeing him committing a crime in the act, the reader becomes an officer herself and eventually a detective. Four years after that day, the reader is sent undercover to figure out what Dean is up to. Only she has no idea how far Dean is willing to go to keep her from finding out the truth…

Pairing: AU!Dean x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 2,600ish

Warnings: language, scary situations, violence, murder, etc.

A/N: This series has been on Ao3 only for awhile now and I am finally reposting here as well. It’s not new but it may be new to you. Please enjoy!...

______

“Our dad killed our mother? Our dad? John Winchester? ” asked Dean, Jack nodding his head. “Well that must make me the fucking Easter bunny then.”

“I’m serious,” said Jack.

“Well I ain’t laughing,” said Dean, clenching his jaw.

“Nine times out of ten, a person knows their killer,” said Jack.

“It wasn’t him ,” growled Dean, moving his chair back, your hand catching his keeping him in place.

“Yes, it was!” said Jack, throwing his hands up.

“I swear to God kid, you say that one more time and I’ll-“

“Dean,” said Sam, so quietly you barely heard it from across the table. “I think...he’s right.”

“Sammy. It’s dad,” said Dean, running his free hand over his face. “He was a street cop most of his career, then a detective, then chief. He didn’t work for the FBI. When the hell would he have even done it?”

“Yeah he did work for them,” said Jack, holding up a hand, pointing at the laptop in front of Sam. “Look it up.”

“Tell that little brat to shut up for two minutes,” grunted Dean, stealing the computer away, typing away before his mouth twitched at whatever he was reading.

“The little brat would suggest the big brat cool it,” said Jack, Dean glaring over the screen at him. “Your dad’s the bad guy, not me.”

“Dean?” asked Sam, Dean shrugging and shoving the laptop aside.

“He was in the FBI. So what,” said Dean. “It proves nothing.”

“So you don’t think he was smart enough to wait until you were 15 to kill your mother?” asked Jack, raising an eyebrow that made Dean squeeze his hand around yours so hard you had to let go. “Until you hit your growth spurt and were strong enough that he could pin it on you? You had the means and the opportunity to pull it off. A smarter, more talented little brother that got more attention than you, a mom that cared more about him than-“

“That is not true,” spat back Dean, swallowing hard, taking deep breaths.

“The motive of jealous brother? John could twist that real easy given what you’ve been up to the past four years. You’re angry, emotional...he’s probably been setting you up to take the fall since you were old enough to walk,” said Jack. “He planned this for years.”

“Kid, you’re this close to-“

“Dean!” you shouted when he stood up. You expected his anger to turn on you, for him to start shouting his head off.

But he only forced his mouth shut and took a deep breath through his nose, sitting back in his chair.

“The old Dean still in there?” you asked, Dean nodding his head slowly. You reached under the table to hold his hand, Dean staring at his lap, running his thumb over the back of your hand. “Jack. Remember you’re talking about their parents. A little finesse in your phrasing, okay?”

“Sorry,” mumbled Jack.

“Whatever,” said Dean, your hand squeezing his until he grunted. “Sorry I was going to beat the crap out of you.”

“I could take you,” said Jack with a smirk.

“In your dreams rookie,” said Dean, giving one back, his anger gone like that.

“Guys are so fucking weird,” you said, turning your attention to Sam. He was spun around in his chair, elbows on his knees, head between them.

“Sammy?” asked Dean, much more gently now, Sam lifting his head slowly. “Don’t freak out on us now. Just because Jack said those things doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“Do you remember the time Bobby was supposed to take us to the zoo? I was five I think. I had that awful cold. You promised we’d both go again real soon and you went with Bobby on your own?” asked Sam.

“Yeah. I got you that little moose stuffed animal. You loved that thing,” said Dean with a big smile.

“Mom and I were home sick. Dad came home in the middle of his shift. I remember because I asked if he would get those sore throat suckers for me and mom on the way home. He was weird, just said I wouldn’t have to worry about it. I don’t remember a whole lot but mom looked at him funny and a neighbor stopped over with some soup soon after that and he want back to work. He brought home my suckers later on and I never thought about it again until just now,” said Sam.

“Sam...that’s beyond circumstantial...that’s…” said Dean, rubbing his free hand through his hair, pausing mid way. “You slept in my room for a week after that, with your little moose. You didn’t have a nightmare. You were scared of something but wouldn’t tell me.”

“I can’t remember what of but whatever it was, it freaked me out,” said Sam. “Bad. Like reoccurring nightmare to this day bad.”

“You honestly think…” said Dean, Sam nodding his head. “But you were there in the house. That doesn’t make sense. You would have been a witness.”

“Unless I was supposed to...you know...” said Sam.

“Sammy, stop,” said Dean, holding up his hand, staring down his little brother. “We don’t know anything.”

“It fits. The timing and-“

“What’s the motive?” asked Dean. “There is none. No way would dad hurt you or mom.”

“Dean,” you said, cupping his cheek with your free hand. “There was that one time-“

“I told you, we were messing around like guys do and I hit my face accidentally. Dad didn’t do it on purpose,” said Dean.

“He does know they teach cops how to spot a lie, right?” asked Jack. “Especially when someone is being-“

“It was an accident,” said Dean. “None of it makes any sense so until I see anything but hard proof, and I mean hard, I ain’t jumping on the bash on dad train. Y/N, you’ve worked for him for years , known him longer than that. You can’t possibly think dad is involved.”

“I want to know what Jack does before I start going gone way or the other on this thing,” you said, Dean nodding his head, Sam sighing. “Sam, I believe you. But that was years ago and you said it yourself, you can’t remember everything. I mean, I know you guys don’t have the greatest relationship with your dad but we should be smart about this.”

“Y/N, can I speak to you privately,” said Jack, both Winchesters whipping their heads in his direction. “It’s delicate and I’d rather tell Y/N first on account she is better at...phrasing things.”

“I’ll be right back,” you said, Dean tugging on your arm when you stood up.

“Be careful,” said Dean.

“It’s Jack,” you said, Dean’s jaw tensing.

“Please be careful,” said Dean. You gave him a smile and he dropped his hand away, Jack leaving the conference room first, moving down the hall until he found an old locker room, poking his head around.

“Jack,” you said, leaning back against the rusty things, Jack far more relaxed away from Dean but making sure you wouldn’t be overheard all the same. “They aren’t eavesdropping. Now do you want to tell me what you can’t say in there?”

“I work internal investigations,” said Jack.

“Yeah. I got that. You’re a smaller version of Sam with a gun,” you said, Jack giving you his best bitch face. “Oh look. There’s my friend again.”

“Yes, I am a mini Sam,” said Jack rolling his eyes, sitting down on a bench, rubbing his hands on his legs. “Dean thought he was working an undercover gig to get in with his mom’s killer, right?”

“Yes,” you said.

“Sam was investigating the team that assigned Dean this job, the team where someone on it in the FBI was Mary’s killer, right?” asked Jack.

“Yes and your job is to make sure nobody tries to kill Sam while he does that,” you said.

“Yes and no,” said Jack, looking over his shoulder at the door. “I’m supposed to protect Sam. I’m also supposed to do the footwork part of the investigation he can’t. Mary’s killer had to be in Lawrence that day. A local. There was only one person that fit the bill. John Winchester.”

“Where’s your proof Jack?” you asked.

“DNA. Only DNA found in the home was that belonging to the Winchesters. It was a mess according to the crime scene photos. No way to do that and not leave something behind. It had to without a doubt be a Winchester,” said Jack.

“Sam and Dean were kids,” you said.

“I know. If there’s only three possible suspects, two of them wouldn’t go through the trouble of setting themselves up to try and clear a name when they were getting away with it, would they?” said Jack. “It had to be John.”

“I need hard evidence, Jack,” you said. “Dean won’t believe conjecture, even if it fits.”

“Find me a murder weapon,” said Jack, lowering his head with a deep breath. “It was a kitchen knife. One was missing from the butcher block. A mistake a kid in a rush might make. Not one a guy framing his kid would.”

“He’s their father. I’ve had how many dinners with the guy. He’s my boss. He’s your boss. You know him,” you said.

“If this were anybody else, why would you be denying it? It’s because you don’t want to hurt your friends, right?” said Jack.

“How do you know they were FBI, the person who killed Mary,” you said, crossing your arms, kicking at the ground.

“They understood FBI protocol...they put out an anonymous distress signal in Houston, pulled in officers from all over the state, including Lawrence. John Winchester didn’t show up until two hours after everyone else,” said Jack. “He played the part well but there were a few that suspected him.”

“Why didn’t they do anything then?” you asked. “They just let their buddy go around and kill his wife?”

“I don’t know, Y/N. Maybe you should have asked them before one had his brakes fail. One had his gun jam out in the field. One fell in the shower. Three weird deaths of the three guys that thought maybe something was up? I’m sure that was all just a coincidence,” said Jack.

“He did it,” you said, running your hands through your hair.

“Likely. Timeline fits. John retired from field work, went local cop route. Stayed on as a consultant for us. Who do you think pushed for Dean’s team to come together in the first place? He did once Dean was in the academy. He never suggested Dean by name but implied things. When Dean went ‘bad’ John cried wolf that he couldn’t watch Dean do that, hung up his fed coat and let the pieces fall into place,” said Jack.

“Sending me in, the feds...what was that?” you asked.

“Dean punched his ex-girlfriend. Shows a history of violence. Not too much of a stretch with his rap sheet to mommy murder when he was a teenager,” said Jack.

“Fuck,” you said, sliding down to the ground, hands on your head. “Fuck, Jack.The stuff with Sam…was that real?”

“I don’t have a motive, Y/N so I don’t know. I have a whole lot of if this happened then that happened but I really need a murder weapon, a confession, a jacket with Mary’s blood, something. You know this family better than anyone else,” said Jack.

“Is Sam safe?” you asked.

“Someone tried to kill him a few days ago so probably not,” said Jack. “I don’t know if Sam’s always been a target or he was getting close. I don’t know.”

“I want somebody with Sam 24/7. Either you or me or Dean, understand?” you said.

“You don’t think you’re a target?” asked Jack. “We’d be stupid to discount you as one.”

“I’m a junior detective, I can handle-” you said, Jack standing and on top of you, stealing your gun from your holster easily, backing up with a cock of his head.

“You can handle what now?” asked Jack, your gun in his hand.

“He’s...older. He’ll be slower,” you said, Jack rolling his eyes as he handed your gun back over. “You aren’t babysitting me.”

“I didn’t say we had to. Just be careful,” said Jack with a smile.

“I have to be the one to tell the guys about John, don’t I,” you said.

“Probably a good idea,” said Jack. “I have to head into work soon before someone thinks something is up. I’ll call you later to meet up. We can use this place as a base.”

“Alright,” you said, following him out of the room. Jack paused before he got to the door, stopping you in your tracks.

“Did...did you know Dean found his mother?” asked Jack.

“No,” you said. “He only spoke about that day once. I figured it was better not to bring it up again.”

“Read his statement when you get a moment to yourself,” said Jack. “It’s what made me start looking at John in the first place. It’s not pretty but it’s useful. I don’t think he realized it, that he even realizes it now, but both those boys are afraid.”

“How’d you get assigned this case?” you asked. “Investigating John Winchester.”

“My dad. He was the one that had his brakes fail. I was in the backseat,” said Jack, a sad smile on his face. “Not a fun day.”

“Jack,” you said, grabbing his arm. “You really…”

“My dad kept notes. He didn’t work with John often but he knew something was off with him, especially after Mary,” said Jack.

“You’re doing this out of revenge,” you said, Jack shaking his head.

“I want some justice for my dad just like those guys for their mom,” said Jack with a sad laugh. “Go team murdered parents.”

“Yeah,” you said, giving Jack a smile. “You better get going. Bobby’s going to make you run laps outside the building if you get in after him.”

“You’re joking,” said Jack.

“I wish I was,” you said, Jack taking off down the hall.

“I call you later!” he said, barging through a couple doors, a car revving to life outside.

You took a few minutes to let everything settle, walking down to the conference room, the boys going through an old supply cabinet, pulling out notebooks and pens. Apparently they had the same idea about making that your base.

“He took off quick,” said Dean.

“He’s got work,” you said, holding out your arms. “Both of you, come here.”

“Why?” asked Sam, slowly walking over, letting you hug him, Dean uncertain on it as he tensed up, getting in close though.

“You two are about to have a very bad morning, Sammy, that’s why. Take a seat guys. We might as well get this over with.”

______

A/N: Read Part 6 here!

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #au #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #series

[terry-perry]

Preyed Upon pt. 3

As always, (majority of) OCs were created by @ladyfluff​. Give her a follow if you haven’t already.

Also as always, enjoy the read!

They didn’t know what their next move could be after they left Raymond’s place, and all remained silent as they went back to Y/N’s apartment with more than millions of thoughts swimming in each of their heads. Once they got there, they each went about the place like mindless drones, still not one of them saying a word. With Peter being the most active on autopilot, he scurried over to the kitchen and looked through the fridge and cupboards. Luckily he was able to find some things to help keep him occupied for the time being.

Cooking had always been a way for him to cope with tension-filled situations since it was something that kept him busy and his mind at ease. Which was why not long after, when the place began to produce a sweet smelling aroma from the desserts being made, he had a moment where he was feeling a form of contentment. That was until reality came back in the form of Adam.

“What are you doing?” He had asked, looking around the kitchen and witnessing the various ingredients and plates of snacks already made.

“Thought I’d make a little something for Ian,” Peter said. “I’m sure he hasn’t eaten anything since...all this.”

“It looks like a bakery in here, Peter,”

“Well maybe he’s one of those zombies that stress eats!”

Peter let out a sudden, irritated huff and put down the mixing bowl he had been stirring on the counter. It was harsher than intended, with some of the batter jumping out. The two stood there in awkward silence after his outburst, waiting for one of them to at least remotely address the situation they were in.

“Where’s Eve?” Peter asked.

“In the bedroom, having a bit of a row with Ava,”

“What are they arguing about?”

“Eve’s trying to push her into trying to remember whatever can be useful in finding Y/N. While also chastising her over her taste in men,” Adam explained, a ghost of an amused smirk appearing. “Where’s Rowan?”

“In one of the other rooms, talking to a neighbor of ours that’s watching over the pups while we’re gone,”

Neither had asked about the whereabouts of Ian, having seen him go straight up to the roof while mumbling about having a smoke. So seeing no other way to beat around the bush, the younger brother had decided to express what had been on his mind for some time now. 

“Do you remember the first person from our past life that we saw die?” He inquired, almost expecting Adam to not answer. “After we’d been around for a good while?”

“Henry,” Adam responded with.

Peter confirmed with a quiet nod. Their parents had died long before their brother did, but they didn’t include them since they each passed away about five years or so after the three siblings were turned. Although they didn’t attend either of their funerals, it wouldn’t have raised too much suspicion if they had. With Henry, however, it was already a good 40+ years when they caught wind of his nearing death and decided to pay him a visit. Funny enough, it was Y/N that had insisted on going to see him.

“He was just a senile old man on his deathbed,” Peter recalled, sounding so far away. “Didn’t even bat an eye to us looking the way we did.”

He gave a bitter and tight-lipped smile as he remembered the final moments they each shared with their late brother; taking a withered hand and smiling down at him on the raised bed. He had managed to raise his tired eyes that could only widen slightly from seeing his estranged siblings.

“Sweet sister, you’ve grown to be quite the beauty,” he had expressed in a croaking version of his younger voice.

“Adam, you’re due for a shave...Ah, little Peter...I use that term ironically now,”

They had let him spew out tales from their childhood and young adulthood. Peter shook his head a bit when remembering the way Henry had babbled in an almost child-like way, giving his spin on the way he tormented the family growing up. He had always been the one that was more of a bully with the way he “playfully” picked on everyone.

“He was such an asshole,” Peter remarked. “Probably the biggest one when we were kids. But I was still sad to see him go.”

Adam heard the sadness in his voice. He knew he didn’t like to talk about their past lives very often since there weren’t much fond memories to look back on. So it was rare for them to talk about the family that had been dead and gone for centuries now.

“Y/N has always been the good one,” Peter went on to say, appearing to be quite spaced out. “Since the day she was born, she had been so sweet. I don’t know where she could’ve gotten it from. The rest of us  were full of such meanness and resentment.”

“You, at least, had a reason to be bitter,” Adam brought up lamely.

But he was able to see what he meant. Y/N was always someone with a kind heart; an open-minded free spirit that always had at least an ounce of empathy for people. It didn’t matter who you were, she would do what she could to understand you and the things you did. It’s why even when they struggled with seeing eye-to-eye about certain things, they always had been able to confide in her when it came to their deepest emotional thoughts. Whether it be Peter talking to her about his sexuality for the first time, or her helping Adam be momentarily distracted from his darkening thoughts, she was always the light of the family.

“I just keep thinking,” Peter suddenly choked out. “What’s going to happen if we can’t...how we’d react if she-”

“Oi, don’t think something like that for even a second! We’re not going to let that bastard get the best of us.”

“Adam, face facts! He’s got her locked up somewhere and is most likely torturing her every time one toe is out of place. He’s already winning!”

“He isn’t winning!” Adam argued, his voice rising. “The only way he will is if we continue with all this negative thinking. And since that’s coming from me, that should tell you plenty about how much you need to lighten the fuck up.”

The tension grew after that outburst, as though that were possible. Anyone else would’ve been shocked or hurt by the way his stoic demeanor broke so harshly, but Peter only rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“I just don’t see how we’ll be able to get her back,”

“There might be a way,” Eve called out.

They turned and found her standing in front of them with a sulking Ava by her side. 

“Ava has something she needs to say,”

“If it’s an apology, I’m not really in the mood for it,” Adam grumbled. Peter just resumed stirring his mix. It’s not that they blamed her for this situation, but they’d be lying if they said that they weren’t more than a little upset with her for bringing Raymond back into their lives. Despite multiple warnings to do otherwise.

“I don’t know where Raymond’s keeping Y/N,” Ava started with. “But I know someone that might,”

That drew their attention back.

----

Everyone had gathered into the living room to hear what Ava had to say.

“A couple days ago before this all happened, Raymond had gone to see Victor,”

“Victor?” Adam inquired. “Are you sure?”

“The guy’s been living in the same place in Brooklyn for over 70 years. I’m sure. I don’t know what he asked from him since I was left in the car while he went inside, but I’m certain whatever it was helped with getting Y/N to wherever she is now.”

“Wait, who’s Victor?” Ian asked.

“He’s someone like us that has been known to get things,” Peter told him. “There’s hardly anything he can’t get his hands on. Especially for the right price.” He threw a question of his own to the rest of the group. “But you don’t suppose he’d actually do business with Raymond, do you?”  

“Only if he wasn’t told everything,” Adam stated. “You know Victor, he doesn’t ask a lot of questions if you flash enough cash his way to keep his mouth shut. He probably doesn’t even know about Y/N.”

“Most likely not. He wouldn’t have sold anything to the asshole if he did.”

“So what now?” Rowan asked next. “Do we just go over to Victor’s and ask him what he may or may not know?”

“It’s better than doing nothing,” Adam reasoned. “If anything, we can go over and see what he has in stock that might help somehow.”

He took a glance at the window, estimating how much was left of the night. “I’ll go there myself, but the rest of you should get some sleep,”

“No, I’m going too,” Peter claimed.

“Are you sure?”

He stepped over to him, a sheepish smile forming on his face. “You were right before. We’re not going to let him get the best of us. We’re going to get her back.”

Adam didn’t say anything except nod in agreement. But then he was spun around by Eve who gave him a worried expression.

“Adam-”

“There’s no sense in all of us going,” he interrupted her with his explanation while giving pleading eyes of his own. “I don’t know what kind of information will be handed to us, or what situation we’ll be landing ourselves in. But I’ll contact you as  soon as I can. Just stay here, please?”

“The things I do for you,” she uttered in return. They then shared a good, loving kiss.

“Hopefully we’ll be back in a night or so,” Peter meanwhile assured his own love. “And if things go well, Y/N will be with us too.”

“I’ll try my best to not worry,” Rowan could only half-joke about that. “And I’ll keep you updated about the babies while you’re away.”

“Thank you,”

“I’m going too,” Ian piped up, getting up from the couch.

“Ian, it’s probably best that you stay here-”

“Yeah, no offense Adam, but I wasn’t asking permission,”

That definitely caught everyone off guard.

“Look, I know you guys are way smarter and stronger than I am -- and there’s still a lot I don’t know about your kind -- but I can still be useful. I want to be, anyway. Because she’s my girl, I want to do what I can to save her.” 

 Adam peered over to Peter who just shrugged and gave him a look that said it was his call. He went back to look at Ian.

“All right, but stay close. I’m sure Victor will be able to supply you with a gun, if needed. You ever use one?”

“Does a paintball gun count?”

“Sure,” Peter answered him with that same weak smile on his face. “We should probably get going before it gets light out.” He returned to Rowan and shared a few more parting words.

Ian stood off to the side as he watched Adam and Peter share goodbyes with their partners. He did his best to ignore the twinge in his heart that came from doing so while also doing what he could to avoid the wandering thought of how he should’ve done better in savoring the last moment he shared with Y/N...

----

Y/N ran her fingers through Ian’s hair while his face stayed hidden in her neck. With his weight on her, she could easily feel his thundering heart as he continued to catch his breath. She started giggling when he lightly rubbed his nose against her cheek. She had no choice but to turn and share several lazy kisses with him. They broke apart eventually, going on to look at each other with hooded eyes and sated smiles.

“That was amazing,” he whispered, still a little out of breath.

“You always say that,” she teased, sliding her arms further down to hug him closer to her.

“That’s because it’s always amazing,”

He gave her one more kiss then rolled off her to go on his side of the bed. They had spent majority of that night between the sheets, only taking breaks every so often to wash themselves off, share a smoke, cuddle or let him recharge with some food. They made love through the dark hours until the transition of the first morning lights when slept it all off.

Had he known that that would’ve possibly been the last time, he would’ve made more of an effort to memorize her movement, the noises she made. He would’ve stayed up a little longer to watch the peaceful way she slept, the cute way her face would subtly twitch from the dreams she had. Had he known what was to come, he would’ve tried harder to keep them in bed. 

----

Adam glanced up towards the rearview mirror and caught sight of Ian in the backseat, still lost in thought since leaving the apartment. Did he even realize they had left? When he turned to look at Peter in the passenger seat, he saw that he was checking on him too. They shared a look with each other afterwards, seeming to be thinking the same thing.

It was usually smarter for their kind to not get too close to many people, safer. But the ones they did have in their lives were always going to be the ones they stayed loyal to and kept safe. The brothers might’ve failed in keeping Y/N away from Raymond’s clutches, but they were going to do everything in their power to get her back. And they were also going to do what they could to make sure Ian was well taken care of. They knew she would’ve done the same if it was Eve or Rowan in his position.

So they made a silent agreement on the way that no matter what happened, he would be protected and come back in one piece.

#Olla #collab #only lovers left alive #adam olla #ian olla x reader #eve olla #Adam X Eve #adam x reader #adam olla x eve olla #adam olla x sister!reader #series #sister #sister!reader #sister reader #Ian x Reader #ian olla #vampire!reader #OC #tom hiddleston imagines #peter olla #fanfiction #angst #anton yelchin #lee pace #x reader #fandom #fanfic

[betelgeusessonajblog]

Roger’s Therapy (Part 1/?)

Roger sits inside a waiting room of a Therapists office, waiting for his appointment with Leatherhead. The croc had come with Roger to support him after everything the lizard had been through, LH knew Roger would need all the support he could get.

The therapist was someone that AJ had actually recommended, one that he had used previously to deal with issues he’d never dealt with before he got together with Raph.

Roger knew that the therapist must’ve been good if his papa was recommending him. 

Leatherhead took Roger’s hand and kissed it gently “Are you okay, Cher..? you’re looking nervous....”

Roger nods a little “Ye-Yeah...I guess I’m pretty nervous about talking to someone about this. But...It has to happen...I have to deal with it if I wanna get better.”

Leatherhead kisses Roger on the lips gently “I will be right here for you, Cher.”

“I know you will, Shawn....thank you.” Roger said with a soft smile. Leatherhead and Roger had spoke about the therapy session in detail. They had agreed that Roger should talk to the therapist alone but Leatherhead would be waiting for him when he got out so they could head home or grab something to eat if Roger wanted.

Eventually Roger’s appointment came and he headed inside the Therapist’s office

“Hello, you must be Roger. I’m Dr Claws, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Dr Claws said with a smile “Your father, Alex, spoke about you a lot when he was here for his therapy sessions.”

Roger smiled as he took a seat “It’s nice to meet you too, sir.”

“I know this must be nerve wracking but I want you just take your time, figure out how you’d like to start things. Dr Claws said as he adjusted the glasses he wore “I’m gonna write stuff down so we can continue onward in the next session.”

Roger nods a little listening to Dr Claws before taking a deep breath “OK so...if...you don’t mind me asking what do you know about my...”

“You want to know if I am aware of his powers, correct?” Dr Claws asked to which Roger nodded a little “Then yes, I’m fully aware of his powers. I am never going to speak about that sort of thing.”

Roger just nods “OK...so...I’m...kinda like Papa, I have powers. But...it’s because I’m...not...a normal monster. I know it sounds crazy but I’m....actually an alien....”

Dr Claws nodded a little, not seeming to be shocked by the reveal

“....Papa...told you about me being Alien, didn’t he?” Roger asked

“Yes, in one of our sessions he said you appeared in his life. When I asked him to elaborate he froze and asked me to never repeat what he was about to say. I promised I wouldn’t. He explained what happened when he was in college. He has ghost-like powers and when he said that told me about you, I just accepted it that the world isn’t as simple as we make it out to be.” Dr Claws explained as he looked at Roger “so I’m not going to judge you about ANYTHING you tell me, okay?”

Roger let out a small sigh of relief “OK good...so when I was like 2 years old my birth mother put me in a pod to protect me from my birth father....he was a king, ruler of his planet....got power hungry and just snapped. So um....over the last few months and recently...I....um...wanted to know more about my planet...so I spoke to my Uncle Donatello, Donnie for short, to help me and he was more than happy to help. He promised me he’d do what he could to find out any information about my planet....”

“And I take it from the pauses and the expression on your face...things went badly, correct?” Dr Claws asked as Roger nodded

“All I wanted was to know more about my planet...find out my birthday...that kind of thing...but they found out what Uncle Donnie was doing and....came hunting for me right away....short version is they kicked our asses and took me away from my family...from my fiance, Shawn....” he takes a deep breath as he thought about that day “My family came for me, obviously....I was....tortured by my birth Father....no not father...just...some asshole.”

“They...tortured you? did he say why?” Dr Claws asked as he looked at Roger

“....he thought I was a weakling....I was a disgrace, not fit to carry on our bloodline.....I guess he wanted me to suffer slowly before he’d kill me....eventually Shawn, my dads and the rest of my family came for me....” Roger explained before motioning to the bandaged up eye “I...lost an eye trying to protect Shawn...” Roger said as he carefully pulled the bandage up showing the bottom part of his eye to the Dr “...Laser through the eye...”

Dr Claws frowned a little seeing the injury, he knew that nothing normal could’ve done that to anyone, not even a bullet so that would only leave what Roger was saying as the truth “I...I am sorry, Roger. You shouldn’t have had to go through that.”

“Thanks...Shawn....told me he would’ve taken the shot for me if it meant I’d still have my eye...if that happened I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself, I already....” Roger started to say but paused

“You already...?” Dr Claws asked, looking at Roger wanting to see if he would continue.

“...Shawn...Shawn got hurt badly by some nasty assholes, got taken without anyone knowing....I was in Japan at the time trying to deal with some issues I’d been going through at the time. Part of me feels like if I was there, I’d have been able to do something...ANYTHING about it....Shawn doesn’t want me blaming myself but I already do...I blame myself for what happened to him, what happened to me. If I wasn’t so fucking stupid none of this would’ve happened, Shawn wouldn’t have gotten taken if I was there that day and I wouldn’t have lost my eye if I hadn’t gone looking for answers like the idiot I am.” Roger said as he put the bandage down and started to tear up  

“Roger....none of that was your fault or your partner’s fault. Many children that were given up for adoption or abandoned go searching for answers like you had. You aren’t the reason you got hurt, you aren’t the reason Shawn got hurt.” Dr Claws said as he looked at Roger whom had buried his face in his hands as he began sobbing softly

“My heart knows that but my head, my head keeps telling me I should’ve been smarter, I should’ve thought things through more. I should’ve listened to my family before I disappeared to Japan. I thought I was doing the right thing for them....for me as well but none of that makes a damn difference. The love of my life got hurt because I was stupid and left him after some shit that wasn’t my fault, I lost my eye because I sought out answers to who I was.” Roger said between sobs. Eventually the session came to an end after Roger spent the last half of it sobbing.

He thanked the Dr for listening to him, Dr Claws told him that he’d like to see Roger come back for the next few weeks to which Roger agreed.

Roger instantly hugged Leatherhead tightly and asked him if they could just go home to which the croc agreed then lead Roger outside before they took a portal to their home.

Roger didn’t say anything as he went to his and LH’s room and laid down on their bed and sobbed softly into a pillow. Leatherhead, knowing something was wrong with Roger, had followed him and when he saw his fiance crying the croc instantly went over to the bed and laid down beside him and held him closely as the lizard kept sobbing.

[tbh-entp]

Hi, Can you make a list of different Entps types that there are or at least that you’ve met? Thanks!

lOL yes. I’m just going to go through my people then. So here I present: The ENTPs I know as types of ENTPS as told by an ENTP: 

I’m putting it under the cut because it’s long 

Grandma

The ENTP who has been through literally everything--made a ton of mistakes but came out ultimately on top because she learns fabulously quick and is smarter than every single person

Long story short--this woman was given away from her fam in the 30s because she was too black (loorrrd help me), grew up unwanted, followed an older brother across the US to this place where she met her (meh) husband, had a ton of kids, got a degree in her 50s, got her 9 kids through pOVERTY, wellfare, racism, kicked that husband out, married again, managed to buy a house and get it done

She’s the type of person to look at someone and be like... give me a second. I’m about to charm them, I’ll be back ;) 

Kept her money in her bra

My pops

The ENTP who is cutthroat in business but a cinnamon role as soon as he’s out of the tie

like a mullet kinda

Son of Grandma ENTP

Has the slim cut pants and tailored shirts and fires many people (but genuinely hates it because they have a fam, yo). If it’s cut and dry, if the person can’t do the job, they shouldn’t be paid

Wears those bucket hats on vacation and does not give a fuck that he looks, sounds, and acts like an American tourist

Does not sleep

Thinks most people are idiots, but will not say this out loud

Should hire people to do the fixer-upper stuff around the house because will not be able to finish (or do it well tbh)

cLINGY to INTJ wife, god he’s so loyal and in love it’s gross

poor mom

Myself ;) 

The ENTP who has gotten too far in life for how lazy she is. she’s like an empty vessel that made it all the way across the ocean and then someone opens it and they’re like damn... maybe another bottle deserved this

Daughter of my pops and granddaughter of grandma (obviously)

Can lie right through her teeth if it’s for the greater good or if it harms no one 

comes back and bites her often

Thinks most people are idiots and will say this out loud

Somehow managed to make her insults sound nice and friendly--normally is nice and friendly though

boyfriend had to tell her to shush when she said “I like my officemate, but not very much” on a group bus ride-

Really good at art for some reason, has been in many art shows and has sold art and whenever someone comes up with an interpretation of her work she just agrees with it because she was just drawing a picture..

depressingly manipulative

Has no vision and no urge to stick to anything, but thankfully can see opportunity, so is casually living a great life although she’s not emotionally attached to it at all

how did she get here 

The hippest summer school gal who’s name I cannot remember for the life of me but let’s call her Gab

The ENTP who is the best person to be around because she is genuinely a mESS -- but probably not good to be around forever

Only person to put tacks on a teacher’s chair 

Farts in class and blames it on others

Smart talks teachers and they like her anyway

Will be the good friend to tell you that you have food in your teeth or that you look like a traffic cone in your running outfit

Cut class, when she got in trouble, she told the lady in charge that she hadn’t been in trouble in this way before and was nervous because she was just acting out so that her divorced parents would focus on her for once-- also complimented the woman’s skirt

bud got off the hook...

also her parents were married

Once stole sodas from another summer camp, came back to our course, when the teacher was like, where did you get those from.. you’re not supposed to have those, Gab was like, oh the kids gave them to us! I didn’t know they were not allowed, we can take them back, or give them to you. I’m so sorry, I should’ve known it wasn’t allowed. 

And the teacher fell for it

The type of ENTP who one shouldn’t hang around probably

But geesh she was fun

Norwegian study abroad friend, or NSAF

The developed and balanced ENTP male who is for sure mistaken for an INTP by a young, untrained American eye because he’s quieter and relatively mature enough to experience his emotions

The walking definition of loyal. He took his best friend everywhere on his bike handles 

Though emotional, he expressed them much like a calculator expresses numbers

he fell for another friend of mine and she was like... man he’s straightforward (she was a rollercoaster though, so compared to that)

Clever, quick, smart, sharp as a tack

He was a quiet version of me--which was fun at first, but then we realized that we bored each other when we were around each other for too long, so we had our own sets of friends, and met up for special occasions to annoy people with witty talk and jokes that only the rationals, INFJs, INFPs, and ENFPs caught 

Awkward hugger

Chilean Man

The immature and unbalanced ENTP male who is also 30

who I get along with very well anyway because we think alike but who I cannot support most of the time

Offensive jokes to those who can be affected

All races, nationalities, genders, heights, blahs are not safe if they so much as make an annoyed face to anything he says

I’d managed to be exempt from this for a while until he discovered that I’m annoyed by these non american people making fun of my accent and calling it Texan (it is not Texan). I know not to respond but he found my button

Sex jokes

Easily one of the smartest in the lab

knows this

he’s not wrong though 

Gets away with spending more money because the boss loves him with reason, he gets results

Where the ego in the lab is far too large, his insecurities bleed into his personality

He eats poorly, is very single and objectifies women when I’m not around 

I called him insecure the one time he did it while I was around, and that ended that

Respects people who he thinks are as smart as he is

Only talks about things he wants to talk about. Gets annoyed by conversations on the peripheral of his interests

Mr. Tesla the Technician

The gadget obsessed ENTP who is the literal jack of all trades

Probably had a Harley and a leather jacket as a youth tbh

Also looks far too young to have a daughter that is my age, like only to grey streaks

Can fix anything and is in charge of other technicians

enjoys saying, i’ll call up my guys 

Generally loves telling people what to do, but hates being in charge of too many people--which he has to do every year when he has to teach the labs

Enjoys some light insulting to those who he know can take it

You look tired today

You’re not fired yet?

I told Karen to take the trash out but you’re still here

Sunshine in the lab because he gets stuff done and he’s totally hilarious

#entp #mbti #answered #Anonymous

[seasonofthegeek]

The Next Ten Minutes, Part 2

Parts 1, 2:

“Woah, did you get out of the house?” Kaminari took in the stacks of books spread out on the dining room table and the empty food container. “And you ate without prompting?” He leaned in. “You showered, man!”

“I did,” Kirishima nodded with a slight blush. “It was well past time.”

“What is all of this?” He picked up one of the books and read the title aloud. “Speaking with the Dead? Kiri…”

“Look, it’s not…I’m just looking into it, okay?”

Kaminari seemed to hold back what he really wanted to say and nodded. “I’m not going to push this right now. This is the most active I’ve seen you in weeks. Just, uh, just talk to me if you need to?”

“Yeah, sure.” Kirishima looked back down at his hastily scribbled notes and hoped his roommate got the hint. After a few seconds, the other man moved away towards the living room.

The local library had a few books on death and afterlife quirks and he’d found more between some bookstores in the city. There’d been books on séances too and he would try one as soon as the ingredients he’d ordered online came in. He was definitely going to have to take Midoriya up on his offer for work soon after these purchases but it felt worth it. His friend would most likely give him a desk job consulting if he asked for it.

He hadn’t seen Bakugo since the first night but he felt like it was a case of missed opportunities. That was what kept him going. Bakugo was still around; they were just having trouble connecting. He was tempted to look into someone with a quirk that could reach into the afterlife but he didn’t want to involve anyone else until he’d exhausted himself. He was hesitant to even share it with Kaminari.

“Because he’ll think you’re crazy,” his mind supplied. “And he’s not wrong…”

Kirishima did his best to ignore that thought and reached for a new book. 

_____________________________________

“Oi, can you hear me?”

Kirishima took in a halting breath and looked around blearily. He was still seated at the dining room table and his cheek was throbbing. He raised his head to find he’d fallen asleep against the corner of one of the hardcover books. He rubbed at his face as he yawned.

“You look slightly better except for the huge red mark across your face.”

He became more alert as the quiet voice reached him. “Bakugo?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me. Let me see if I can do this. I didn’t want to waste the effort if you weren’t going to wake up.”

Kirishima watched as a dull light grew brighter and like before, a translucent version of Bakugo hovered in front of him.

“This is fucking inconvenient,” he muttered. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for days.”

“Sorry. I’ve been watching for you but I guess we’ve missed each other.”

“I’m wondering if you have to be mostly asleep for it to work,” Bakugo considered. “I’ve been thinking about it and that makes the most sense to me. You have to turn your damn brain off for me to get through.”

“Where do you go when you aren’t here?”

Bakugo slumped and ran his hand down his face. “I’ve got no idea. It’s just dark. At least there I can still use my quirk though.” He raised the same hand and attempted an explosion, only releasing a thin stream of smoke.

Kirishima frowned. “Is there…are you alone?”

“I think so. I’ve tried moving around but for all I know I’m in the same fucking spot I started in. I can’t see a damn thing.”

It felt like such an odd thing to have missed Bakugo’s colorful language but Kirishima felt the familiar sting of tears. “That sucks.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Bakugo eyed him warily. “Are you going to cry right now? Because I’ve seen you crying a lot and you need to cut it out.”

Kirishima chuckled and wiped at his eyes. “Shut up, man, that’s rude. Crying’s manly and you know it.”

“Seriously. You aren’t going to be able to help me if you’re here being a sad sack.”

“I can’t believe I miss you.”

Bakugo grinned fiercely when he saw Kirishima’s smile. “Hell yeah. That’s more like it, Ei. What are you doing out here anyway?”

“I got a bunch of books on death and quirks and I guess I’m just trying to figure out how to help you.”

“Have you told anyone about me?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know that they would believe me, honestly. I haven’t been in the best shape.”

Bakugo reached out for Kirishima and growled when his hand went through the other man’s shoulder as if it were air. “I never meant to leave you,” he said softly.

“I know that. It should’ve been me anyway.”

“Shut your fucking mouth.”

“No.” Kirishima shook his head, shoulders hunching in as he hugged himself. “The guy was aiming for me. You’re the one who jumped in the way.”

“Yeah, well, I’d do it again so screw you.” Bakugo crossed his arms. “I love you so you have to deal with that kind of shit.”

Kirishima inhaled deeply. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Not going to say you love me too? I died for you, for crying out loud.”

“Dude!”

Bakugo’s mouth split into a grin and he was relieved to pull another reluctant smile from the other man. “So what have you learned from all your books?”

Kirishima sighed and pushed his chair back. “Not much, honestly. I’m still not sure what that quirk did to you.”

“Then find out.”

“What?”

Bakugo rolled his eyes. “Come on, Ei, you’re smarter than this.”

“I…”

“The guy got taken in, right? Or did you kill him to avenge me?”

Kirishima shot him a dark look. “It was a plan for a while.”

Bakugo’s bravado lessened. “Who stopped you?”

“Izuku. We both showed up at the holding cell with the same idea and were able to talk each other out of it.” Kirishima could see that the other man was struggling with a reply so he powered on. “He’s taken it pretty hard too. He’s working twice as much, even offered me and Kaminari jobs.”

“You didn’t take one though.”

Kirishima shrugged. “I probably will soon. It’d be easier to work with friends right now than try to get back on at my old agency.”

“So ours is just dead in the water, huh?”

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

Bakugo blinked before he realized what he’d said. “Ah, not intended.”

“I don’t know, man. Denki and I just didn’t think it felt right anymore. You were kind of the driving force.”

An awkward silence fell between them and Bakugo began to feel an annoying tug. “I think I’m about to disappear,” he warned. “Find out about the asshole who did this to me.”

“Why?” Kirishima felt his heart drop as Bakugo faded quickly from sight. He sat back in his chair with a soft exhale and looked over the cluttered table. His eyes were burning and he needed more sleep. He wasn’t going to be any good to Bakugo in this state.

He pushed himself up and forced himself down the hall. He was almost past the closed door of Bakugo’s room when he paused, putting his hand on the doorknob. Without thinking about it too closely, he opened the door and slipped inside. He’d been in the room a few times since Bakugo’s death and even more since his ghostly reappearance but he’d tried not to disturb much of anything. He’d stolen a few articles of clothing here and there but that’d been the most of it.

He carefully kicked off his slippers and slid into the bed. The sheets really needed to be washed and there was a faint musty smell lingering on the air but for the first night in longer than he cared to remember, Kirishima fell into a quick, pleasant, dreamless sleep. _____________________________________

Kirishima breezed past a stunned administrative assistant and let himself into his friend’s office without preamble. “I need to know everything about the guy who took down Bakugo and I know you’re the one to come to.”

Midoriya blinked up at Kirishima in surprise. “Hey, Eijiro. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” he said with a wave of his hand. “The villain. Do you have a file on him?” He saw the other man’s eyes flick to the office door.

“Why?”

“Because I want to know what his quirk is and if anyone knows, it’s you.”

“What’s going on with you?”

“Izuku, come on, man. What’s his quirk?”

Midoriya caught a few of his sidekicks lingering near the water cooler and got up to close his door. “First, you tell me why you suddenly need to know now.” He opted to sit down on the weight bench in the corner of the office.

Kirishima turned to face him and leaned against the desk. “I’m curious, that’s all. It had to be something strong to kill Katsuki that quick and I want to know how.”

“So you’re just curious?”

“Yes.” Kirishima saw something flit across his friend’s face that he couldn’t quite decipher.

“I guess it doesn’t even matter at this point,” he sighed. “His quirk is deadly. He’s currently being held in a maximum security facility after killing two guards while he was in holding.”

“I didn’t hear about that.”

“It was kept pretty quiet. No one wanted to spook the public by saying the guy who took down Ground Zero was temporarily on the loose again. We got it handled quickly.”

Kirishima felt his fist harden and creak under the strain. “You should’ve called me. Did you beat him to a pulp?”

“I did.”

“Good.”

The men shared a look of understanding before Midoriya continued. “The guy’s quirk is two-fold. Sometimes it works one way and sometimes it works another.”

“I don’t understand. You mean like Todoroki’s fire and ice?”

He shook his head. “Not really. I don’t think he can control how his quirk is used. While his quirk is strong, he isn’t. I don’t think he ever had any proper training for it.”

“I’m finding it hard to feel pity.”

Midoriya pursed his lips. “I know. I’ve been struggling with the same thing.” He picked up one of the smaller dumbbells and began to use it to keep himself from fidgeting with something else. “From the guy’s track record, most of the time, his quirk releases an energy beam that stops the heart and kills on site.”

Kirishima made a face. “Which is what happened.”

“Well, maybe.”

“Just spit it out already, you damn nerd,” he growled. He was blinking in shock in the next second. “I…I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came from.”

“You sounded just like Kacchan.”

“I know; I…”

Midoriya dropped the dumbbell without any caution. “Eijiro, be completely honest with me. Have you see Kacchan?”

He internally deliberated for a few long moments before he finally nodded. “Yes,” he whispered. “Have you?”

Midoriya shook his head. “No, but that still means we have hope.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Most people the villain used his quirk on did die. He’s killed over two dozen.”

Kirishima tried to hold back the growl rumbling in his throat.

Midoriya caught it and powered on. “But there were two cases where victims were hit and simply appeared to have died.”

“I don’t understand.”

“These people had been buried and mourned and considered dead for months.” Midoriya licked his lips. “Eijiro, what if Kacchan can come back?”

“The people came back?”

“Clawed their way out of graves,” he nodded. “Who knows how many other victims may have come back and weren’t able to get out of their burial ground. But if Kacchan is one of them…if he can come back, he’d be able to blast out.”

Kirishima stood and paced the small space. “This is crazy. This…he’s dead.”

“You said you’ve seen him.”

“Well, yeah, like a see-through ghost version of him. He’s shown up twice now but he says he’s seen me a lot more. I think it’s hard for him to make contact.”

“That has to be a good sign though!” Izuku’s eyes were a little too wide. “The two survivors were completely healed. They’d both been through autopsies and one had been fighting cancer before she’d been killed. All traces were gone during their preliminary exams afterwards. That could happen to him too!”

“How does that even work?”

“I don’t know!” Izuku tugged at the roots of his hair. “I. Don’t. Know. It doesn’t make any logical sense. I’ve studied quirks forever and I’ve reached out to experts and no one can explain it. Something about this guy’s quirk is an anomaly.”

“You look a little crazy right now.” Kirishima attempted a smile but felt it fall short. The other man seemed to come down a little in response though.

“Yeah, you’re not the first person to tell me that actually.”

“Who else have you told about this theory?”

“Uraraka, Shoto, and Tenya.”

“What’d they say?”

“That I needed to accept things and move on,” he sighed. “You know, in the nice way friends do when they’re worried about your sanity.”

“Yeah, I’ve been getting heavy doses of that from Denki.”

“He’s come in to talk to me a few times about you,” Midoriya nodded. “He’s at a loss.”

“I know.”

They both stared at the looping pattern in the carpet. “So we just have to wait?” Kirishima asked. “What if he never comes back?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I don’t have any other answers. Maybe you can tell Kacchan about all of this and see what he thinks.”

“Yeah…”

“Or we could, you know, maybe go talk to the guy. See if there’s any way he knows how to make people come back.”

Kirishima’s eyes shot up. “I thought you said he doesn’t know how to use his quirk well.”

“He doesn’t but it’s worth a shot, don’t you think?”

“We’d need to be careful. I think the less people who know about Bakugo, the better right now.”

“Agreed.”

“But it might not be the worst idea to bring backup.”

Midoriya rounded his desk and reached for his phone. “I know exactly who to call.”

Buy me a cherry coke?

#kiribaku #krbk #bakushima #eijiro kirishima #katsuki bakugo #bnha #my hero academia #ghost au

[thebrightsessions]

Abt you not confirming any characters as poc: It feels a little performative. Like you go on and on abt how important representation is but you leave poc out in the cold. And this isn't even addressed in a way that makes it seem like you care or have thought abt it. I'm not trying to be rude, but it's a little (a lot) upsetting

I’m really sorry that it seems like I don’t care or that I don’t think about it - I do care and I spend a lot of time thinking about this exact subject. But, like 98% of my thinking, I tend to keep it to myself or conversations with close friends and collaborators. The internet is not always the best place to learn and grow. I even debated answering this ask publicly (or at all - as you guys know, there’s about 900 unanswered asks in here) because I’m always afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing, but I want to be transparent about this kind of stuff so that I can learn how to be better. 

This is a long post because I want to be as blunt and thorough as possible, so the rest under the cut. 

Representation is important but by talking about how I think representation is important, I in no way want to suggest that I am perfect or comprehensive with representation in my own work. I apologize if it’s ever come off that way - that is not my intention. I’m still learning and growing all the time - as is the greater population and wider entertainment world - and this inevitably means that I’m going to make mistakes or be behind the times or have major blind spots. I try to stay aware of my blind spots and listen to people around me who are smarter and better, but that doesn’t mean I can instantly course correct. 

When I first started The Bright Sessions, never mentioning anyone’s appearance in the show was a specific intention. I wanted our listeners to be able to imagine whatever they’d like to imagine and, selfishly, I was excited to see different interpretations in fanart, should we be lucky enough to have people drawing our characters. I naively thought that was unequivocally a good thing. After all, I loved imagining my own personal versions of the characters in books I read or podcasts I listened to - isn’t that the benefit of having no visual reference? I realize now how short-sighted that was. I still do think there’s beauty in having a completely open sandbox when it comes to visuals, but I also know better now that concrete representation is vital. 

Since then, I’ve been grappling with different questions. If I were to confirm someone’s race, would I be taking away something from someone? What’s the balance of having concrete, meaningful representation versus leaving doors open for listeners to make characters their own? I didn’t think about race in casting - perhaps another naive choice - so in making any races canon, would I have to recast? Limit the character’s race to the actor’s race? Are the rules different in voice acting? 

And, were I to make something canon, how would I do so within the podcast? This might seems like a lazy, cop-out question to ask myself, but it is something I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about. Certain characters have voiced their sexuality out loud because sexuality is something you can’t see, but it might feel awkward or shoe-horned in to have a character identify their own or someone else’s race out loud. In TV and film, the representation is there because you can see it - it isn’t being told to you. But of course, people do talk about their own experiences as a POC in real life, but that would mean writing a conversation specifically about the POC experience, which I feel isn’t my place to write. So, then, ideally I’d hire a POC writer, except I only recently started getting paid for writing this show myself and the last thing I want to do is cash in on someone’s experience and talents and then not pay them. That seems like the way worse option. 

Now, you might ask, “why not just confirm it on here or somewhere else online?”. Because it’s one thing for me to answer questions about a character’s favorite food or birthdays, but in my opinion, something as important as racial representation only counts if it’s actually in canon. I’ve confirmed some things that are heavily suggested in the podcast, but I’ve tended not to give answers about things like sexuality and race because until those things appear in the show, I have no right to claim them publicly for my characters. That’s how I feel right now but, as with all of this, my feelings may evolve. 

(sidebar: I did confirm Chloe’s panromanticism on tumblr before getting to it in the show, but she was already out as ace and I had a pretty decent idea that we were going to talk about her exes down the line)

So those have been some of the many thoughts that have been running through my head the past two and a half years and I still don’t have perfect answers for them. They are not at all meant to be excuses - I’ve been fairly upfront about the fact that my two big blind spots as a writer are gender and race representation. I know. That doesn’t mean I know how to be better. To be totally honest, I’m pretty scared to tackle those subjects as a white cis writer. I feel more surefooted writing queer characters - even ones with a different identity than my own - and male characters - even though I’m a woman - because men have been represented plenty in media. But when there’s already such a dearth of good POC representation (and the spectrum of gender representation) it feels like a much weightier thing to take on. But that should in no way stop me. Just because I fear identifying a character’s race in an audio format might lead to clunky dialogue, doesn’t mean it has to sound exposition-y and awkward. If I want to be a good writer, I need to find ways to write meaningful representation in multiple mediums, without sacrificing smoothness of writing. If representation is important to me in my work - which it is - I need to walk the walk and make sure that I’m considering what the breadth of representation actually means. 

(another sidebar because it always bears repeating: not everything can be everything for everyone. I get a lot of asks along the lines of “will you ever have a character who is x” and the reality is that I’m not running through a checklist of groups to represent in my work because I think that does lead to bad storytelling. That being said, if I want to challenge myself by telling new and diverse stories (diverse in the broadest sense of the word) and if I’m someone who believes that entertainment can be a force for positive change, I will do my best to widen the spectrum of the characters I’m writing. But: I am not at all obligated to do so. If a writer wants to tell the same story about the same people in 900 different ways for the rest of their life, they are allowed to do that. I wouldn’t want to do it - I personally believe that if you’re making something for potential mass consumption (as anything on the internet is), you’d ideally have good intentions that it would have a positive influence on the world. But the entertainment you consume does not have a responsibility to you. An artist is responsible for their art - if you make something and it has an affect on the world, negative or positive, you have to live with that. But as an audience member, I don’t think I’m owed anything by what I consume because I choose what I consume, and all the baggage that comes with it. If I waited for that piece of art that is perfect in representation and entirely unproblematic, I would be waiting quite literally for forever. Which brings me to my final point...) 

To be completely, brutally honest, there’s a trend on tumblr/the internet in general that I’ve seen grow exponentially in the past ten years that really worries me. And that is the constant tearing down of anything deemed even slightly problematic. I’ve grown so much as a human and artist in the past three years alone and I live in fear of making a mistake that will end my career and alienate my audience forever. It’s easy to get the impression from the internet that there is no room for growth. I would be lying if I said that wasn’t a factor in me steering away sometimes from things where the chances of me fucking up and courting hate are high. Again - not an excuse. I shouldn’t give a rat’s ass what people on the internet think of me, I should stop being a coward and try things that are important to me, even if I do them badly on the first try. But I’m human and the truth is that strangers on the internet being mean to me actually really fucking hurts. And it especially hurts if I don’t even get a second try to do better. It is impossible and extremely dumb for me to wait for a time when I feel like I can tell certain stories without messing them up, but I think that’s an element of what I’ve been doing. That’s bad and weak-willed and I’m sorry. 

(final sidebar: this ask is not an example of the above. This isn’t a rude ask - you are well within your rights to be upset about this and as much as it stings to know I’ve disappointed listeners, it’s always good for me to know because that’s how I grow. I’m talking more about the hypothetical fear that I try to deliver on something that’s important to lots of people and fail and get a lot of means asks and then have a long cry about it.)

I don’t know if this sheds any light on my thought process or just muddies things further - I’m clearly still figuring things out. I think the main thing I’m trying to say is: I hear you and I know and I’m going to try and do better but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do things perfectly or even well. None of what I’ve said here makes up for the lack of representation or lets me off the hook, but I hope it gives you some insight into where I’m at now. The original run of TBS will unfortunately always be lacking in this regard - there’s nothing I can do to change that. But in projects moving forwards, I fully have the intention to highlight new voices and stories and perspectives. Especially now that I’m in more of a position to actually pay people. But I’m not going to sit here and promise you that I’ll satisfy you with my writing in the future. I have no idea if I will. I have no idea if I’ll even satisfy myself. All I ask, from you and all our listeners and my team and even myself, is that we continue being honest with each other and that we always, always leave room for growth. 

I’m sorry I’ve failed you, but I hope you’ll give me a chance to do better in the future. Stay strange. 

#answered #oof sorry #I really went off on a tangent there about the relationship between art and audience #representation #long post #I hope this answers your question? #which I guess isn't really a question #I hope this explains some stuff #and I'm sure you're not the only person who feels this way #floatyflannel

[everyfandomeverywhereallatonce]

Arrowverse Re-Watch: Arrow season 1, episode 1 “Pilot”

***Disclaimer: I recommend you read the tags before digging in to this review.

So I’m doing my annual Arrowverse re-watch (where I go back and watch all the Arrowverse shows in chronological order) and this year, I decided I would make these reviews/commentaries about each episode as I re-watch them.

So here goes... WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD

Oliver: The name of the island they found me on is Lian Yu. It’s Mandarin for Purgatory. I’ve been stranded here for 5 years.

Okay, don’t get me wrong, the main reason I love Arrow is because the characters are great and real and the stories are so interesting. And Stephen Amell is a fantastic actor, definitely one of the best in the Arrowverse...but hot damn just look at that body

I really don’t like objectifying anyone (of any gender), but art deserves to be appreciated and this body right here is art.

Okay I literally couldn’t find a gif of it anywhere, but that shot of Oliver looking into the mirror and the lightning flashes and you see him in the hood for like a split second...that shot...yeah I love that shot. Ugh it’s so amazing and just chilling.

Okay so apparently a lot of people hated the flashbacks...which I don’t understand??? But I loved the flashbacks. Mostly because I just love flashbacks in general. I mean, they weren’t always super interesting and a lot of the time the flashback storyline wasn’t really as interesting as the main storyline, but I still really liked the flashbacks. I actually kinda miss them sometimes.

TOMMY!

Like basically everyone else in the Arrow fandom, I miss Tommy sooo much. And I know, I know Colin has Chicago Med now, but I gotta be honest...I still haven’t quite gotten over that Tommy (any Earth version) wasn’t Vigilante. Like honestly, what was even the point of making him Vince (or Vinny they literally changed his nickname). God season 6 was such a fucking mess...but more of that later.

Okay so I have a bone to pick with this little moment where Oliver speaks Russian to Raisa. So like I guess it was supposed to demonstrate how Oliver has changed and all that...but like, Oliver’s not stupid. He wouldn’t be so careless as to speak Russian in front of his family and friends when he knows that they know he didn’t speak Russian before the island (thus revealing something about his time away when he’s usually so careful not to let things about that time slip).

I just don’t really like that moment because it seems a bit out of character for him.

Oliver: I didn’t realize you wanted to sleep with my mother, Walter.

Tommy: Have you noticed how hot your sister’s gotten?

It does kinda make me cringe a little though tbh. Although, full disclosure, the first time I ever watched this show, I did kinda ship them. I thought they had great chemistry. Better chemistry than Tommy and L*urel (but we’ll get to that later).

Tommy: So what’d you miss the most; steaks at the Palm, drinks at the station, meaningless sex?

Oliver: L*urel

Oh god here we go with this bullshit...can we just skip to the part where the writers realized that L*uriver was awful and they all jumped on the Olicity train?

Oh look it’s L*urel L*nce, the Queen Bitch of Starling City.

Okay that was an exaggeration...and I don’t actually hate LL, well at least, I don’t hate the idea of her. (Alright, strap yourselves in.)

I feel like LL was only the “real” LL in the first like 3 episodes of season 1 and then like the last 2 episodes before she dies. Every episode in between those she was like the off-brand version of LL. In the first couple episodes, she’s a pretty great character. She genuinely wants to help innocent people, she’s independent, she fights for what she believes in. Other than her being a totally soulless, cold-hearted bitch to Oliver, I actually liked her. But the whole Oliver drama really ruined her. And I blame the writers for that (namely the notorious misogynists Kreisberg and Guggenheim).

So first, they thought that “you cheated on me with my sister” was a great beginning to an epic love story. And then they made her totally cold to Oliver. Like look, as much as I dislike LL, I will always take her side on this issue. Playboy Ollie was a grade A fuckboy jackass and LL has every right to be pissed at him. But...then he spent five years in literal hell. Whatever mistakes he made before the island, he paid for them and then some. Now I know LL doesn’t know all the particulars of what went on in those 5 years, but she must’ve at least seen the movie Cast Away, right? I mean, from her perspective, Oliver spent 5 years completely alone on a deserted island. In that situation he would’ve had to teach himself to hunt and kill animals for food, he would’ve had to learn how to build shelters, he would’ve had literally no one to talk to or interact with for five years. She would’ve had to know that he probably has PTSD...and he comes back and she says “I’d hoped you’d rot in hell a whole lot longer than five years.” Like, are you fucking kidding me?! Why in the fuck would the writers think anyone would ship them with this kind of beginning? How are we supposed to have any sympathy for LL when she won’t even let Oliver try to apologize? And saying that he deserved what happened to him on the island? Jesus fucking Christ. God I couldn’t be more anti-L*uriver if I tried.

I get what (I think) they were trying to go for with LL, but they completely fucked up the execution.

LL: ‘Cause her body was at the bottom of the ocean where you left her. It should’ve been you.

“It should’ve been you.”

Okay bitch let’s go. No one talks to post-island Oliver that way. Ever. Oliver Jonas Queen is a gift to the world and I don’t care what dumbass Ollie Queen did you do not get to say that to Oliver. He has lost and suffered so much, too much. JFC where the fuck is Oliver’s unconditionally loving and supportive wifey when he needs her? Don’t worry bb, only two more episodes and you’re home free.

Mercenary Dude: What did he tell you, Mr. Queen?

Oliver: He told me I’m gonna kill you.

God yes where has this Oliver been the past couple years? Not the kill-happy Oliver, just the intimidating hardcore Oliver that can take down half a dozen guys single-handedly. That’s one of the things I hated about season 6 was how they wrote him so out of character just for plot. Ever since they introduced the newbies in season 5 they’ve written Oliver like he literally can’t even function without having like 5 other people out in the field with him. I don’t mind having a team (I love Roy and Dinah for example) but the team is just too big. (I’ll talk about that in much more detail when we get to seasons 5 and 6 [and that bullshit “civil war”])

Mercenary Dude: You’re delusional. You’re zip-cuffed to that chair.

Oliver: Not anymore.

*shivers*

God the MUSIC! Ugh I love the music in this scene when he’s taking down the kidnappers.

Oh yeah...and this incredible stunt...

And I love that you can tell that Stephen did all these stunts himself. But I especially love the above stunt because it’s so incredible, but like he just does it and it’s as if it’s no big deal because he’s just that physically fit.

QUENTIN!!!

With hair!!!

Oh Quentin deserved so much better than all that nonsense the writers put him through in season 6. But I’m getting ahead of myself here.

I’m just so happy to see him! And to see the journey that he took in the first 4 seasons. (Seasons 5 and 6 [especially 6] weren’t the real Quentin. It had to’ve been one of his doppelgängers because the real Quentin is smarter than to be fooled by BS’ bs).

Ahh did you see what I did there?!

I love Raisa and I’m so happy they brought her back for season 6! I hope she returns again in season 7! I love the way she takes care of the Queen boys!

John Thomas Diggle is in the building ladies and gentlemen! This man is a gift and honestly I sometimes think we don’t deserve him.

Okay I kinda miss seeing Oliver in regular clothes. It seems like, ever since he became mayor, the only civilian clothes we ever see him in are suits. Don’t get me wrong, that man can fill out a suit, he looks delectable...especially when he’s just wearing a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up (those arms!)

But I also kinda miss just seeing him in like jeans and a t-shirt. Maybe once he gets out of prison we’ll see more of that (since he won’t be mayor).

The whole workout/training sequence is just...

We were completely deprived of shirtless Oliver in season 6 and I just cannot stand for that. We better get like double the amount of shirtless Oliver in season 7 to make up for it.

Tommy: Now, by my rough estimate, you have not had sex in 1,839 days.

Yeah except for Shado and who knows? maybe Sara or even some random girl in Russia.

LL: I’m sorry about saying that you should’ve been the one who died. That was wrong.

Nice apology, LL (this is the real LL I was talking about earlier), but you’re gonna change your mind in like 2 episodes. @jbuffyangel calls this phenomenon “as the Lances turn” (referring to the crazy inconsistencies in how the Lances [especially LL] are written). And I love that phrase I’m totally gonna steal it because it’s so true, but I’ll discuss that more when it flares up in later episodes.

John: I would believe you, Mr. Queen, if you weren’t so full of crap.

John Diggle, ladies and gentlemen, taking none of Oliver’s shit since 2012.

Please, someone, give this man a medal.

Okay but did John and Oliver ever talk about Oliver putting John in that hold and knocking him unconscious? I don’t know why, but I kinda have this headcanon that they never actually did talk about it until like years later (probably after Oliver and Felicity returned from Ivy Town and Oliver and John made up) that John was just like “remember when you knocked me unconscious at your welcome home party”.

Okay I know that it’s Yao Fei’s hood, but I kinda wonder why Oliver didn’t get it lined with Kevlar from the get-go. I mean it’s not like he trained in medieval times and then time-traveled to the 21st century to start his crusade, like he’s aware that guns exist and that a lot of the people he planned to take down would use guns. I mean, he could’ve just gotten Anatoly or someone else in the Bratva, I’m sure they know people who know how to do that.

But at the same time, I guess it kinda fits with his whole persona and his plan. When he first starts out he’s not really waging a full-on war against all crime in the city, he’s just trying to take down the corrupt one-percenters and once he does that he hangs up the hood and moves on with his life. So it makes more sense that his suit is more “raw” because he’s more raw. He doesn’t have a team, doesn’t consider himself a hero. It’s just him and his bow and his list.

So I’m watching the scene where Robert kills himself and it makes me think of the scene in season 5 when Oliver is watching the video that Robert left him and Felicity comes along and is like “wow no prssure” and I’m like yeah! I mean, what a crazy and horrible burden to put on your child. I mean, there they are, Robert’s made all these mistakes, but instead of trying to fix these mistakes himself he’s like “nah I think I’m just gonna tell my son to right my wrongs and then blow my brains out right in front of him leaving him traumatized and completely alone”.

This is Robert:

Like jfc, no wonder Oliver’s so screwed up.

I just don’t get what Tommy sees in LL. I mean, throughout the season they just go on and on about how much Tommy and LL love each other, but I just don’t see anything between them. I mean what did they even have in common besides losing Oliver? I mean the only thing I kind of get about their relationship is LL encouraging Tommy to be a better person. Once again, it’s the idea of LL, but it didn’t really work out that way in execution.

And honestly, you know what the worst part about M*rlance was? Knowing that they only did it to create even more drama between Oliver and LL, but then the fact that the writers ended up dropping L*uriver in favor of Olicity made all that drama pointless. Now obviously I know that the writers didn’t know that L*uriver would be a total bust (though they should’ve) or what Felicity and Olicity would become at the time, but still...hindsight is 20/20 I guess.

Ah Moira, being shady af.

I miss her. I always loved her character and Susanna Thompson is such an amazing actress.

I miss her pretty much for the same reason I miss Tommy: the potential. Both Tommy and Moira never really got to see Oliver become the true hero that he is today. They never got to see Oliver fall in love and have his own family. I feel the same way about Quentin. They could’ve done some great things with him. I always wanted the writers to explore his relationship with Felicity more. They had a great father-daughter kind of relationship in season 2. And especially knowing that Felicity’s father abandoned her and Quentin had lost his daughter, I thought it made so much sense that they sorta would’ve adopted each other as a surrogate family. But no. Instead, the writers went with that BS bs (hehe I did it again). And now Quentin is dead; another great character wasted.

Anyway, that’s all for me about this episode. I hope you enjoyed my ranting and I’ll see you later for episode 2.

#arrow #arrow season 1 #arrow 1x01 #oliver queen #stephen amell #tommy merlyn #thea queen #anti laurel lance #anti merlance #anti lauriver #olicity #felicity smoak #raisa #john diggle #robert queen #moira queen #quentin lance #fandomlife-universe

[evangelene]

Just Happened To Be (6)

Summary: Jimin was an asshole, yes. And you were supposed to be nice, meek, and afraid of people like him. But you weren’t; even with a knife at your throat you stayed quiet and unforgiving–and he wasn’t allowed to like it.

Based off this request:

“Anonymous said:So how about bad boy Jimin I mean that’s cool I guess cause I mean who need bad boy jimin right pft not me.”

Usual warnings . This is a drug gang fic so naturally there’s gonna be a lotta shit.

Part One /  Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Seven

To say that Yoorin was positively livid when she stepped through the front door was the understatement of the century. The only person managing to keep the woman from roundhousing Jimin in the face was Hoseok; to be fair, he wasn't doing much to calm the situation seeing as he was being forcibly dragged by the enraged female. Hell, Yoorin looked like she could peel paint off the walls with just the force of her aura--like if she touched the ocean sharks would float dead to the surface. For a minute, Jimin thought that your best friend was capable of splitting the earth beneath his feet.

To further bury himself, Jimin made the unfortunate mistake of meeting her gaze when she entered.

"Where. Is. She?" Her voice stirred some deep, primitive fear in the depths of his chest.

Jimin's hands stuttered as he stirred a pot of noodles on the stovetop. "She fell asleep, so I put her in her bed." He swallowed at the stove. "I wanted to see if she would be able to keep down some food."

Yoorin didn't say another word to him; instead she tore down the hallway towards your bedroom--leaving Jimin and Hoseok alone in her wake.

Hoseok paused, his hands still frozen on the strap of his bag. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine--she's the one that--"

"You know that's not what I mean."

Jimin pressed his lips into a line, scratching the back of his neck as he turned the heat off. "So Namjoon told you then?"

"No, I just know you and I know how you react to shit like this." Hoseok grabbed the back of Jimin's collar, shoving him forward. "She's not Sooyoung."

"Exactly. Despite that, I haven't changed so her fate will still be the same." Hoseok smacked the back of Jimin's head, kicking him forward into your bedroom. Any rebuttal died on his tongue the second he saw you.

You were curled up on your side, your hand wrapped tightly in both of Yoorin's as she sat on the side of your bed.  He found himself reaching out, his hand brushing your sweat laced hair off your forehead.  You let out a soft noise of approval, something that had his heart swelling and his instincts screaming to run.

"How could you let this happen?" Yoorin whispered, her hands tightening around yours. "I thought you were smarter than this."

"This isn't his fault--" Hoseok spoke when Jimin couldn't, but Yoorin was already angry and adamant about staying as such. Jimin felt that, if she didn't stay angry, she would start crying.

"Like hell it isn't!" She snarled at a point between the two of them, unsure of where her rage should be directed. "He got her into this mess! He--God, he's just like that asshole's brother!"

Jimin petrified on the spot, unable to comprehend the whirlwind words in his head nevertheless say them out loud; Hoseok was much faster at thawing the stone from his bones. "Taehyung--you're talking about Taehyung's brother, right?"

"You knew him?" Jimin's voice finally broke out of its chains, his eyes meeting hers.

Yoorin sat back into her hips, her eyes flitting between the two men before her. "Y/N didn't tell you, did she?"

That was enough for Hoseok to throw his hands up in surrender, stepping towards the door. "Since she's stable currently, I'll come back when you guys finish up whatever this personal bull is. Okay? Okay." Before either of them could stop him, Hoseok closed the bedroom door behind him, locking the two into a conversation that neither was prepared for.

Jimin stared at the door instead of her. "What didn't she tell me?"

Yoorin worried her lip between her teeth, bringing your hand up to press a chaste kiss to your fingers. "I'm sorry, Y/N." She whispered into your knuckles. "Don't be mad at me when you wake up, okay?" When you didn't respond, she lowered your hand back to her lap. "God she's lucky she sleeps like the dead."

"Yoorin--"

"I know!" She screwed her eyes shut, shaking her head. "There's a reason Y/N and I are friends--we were still relatively young at the time, but I guess I was what made her want to go into her line of work."

"What gang were you a part of?"

She chuckled. "It's that obvious, huh?"

"No one in this city has a mouth like yours without anything to back it up." He murmured. "I figured there was some sob story behind your confidence."

"We weren't well known aside from the fact that we were an all female gang in a male dominated business. She disbanded it by befriending the girls one by one and ensuring their safety when we left. But that's not the important thing. That's not what you're really asking, is it?"

"You knew Kiyun." Saying the devil's name felt like poison on his tongue. In Jimin's head, all he could picture was a child version of Taehyung saying the name over and over again. Jimin supposed that the actual image of Kiyun--the image of him dead on the street after Jun was finished with him--was too real too actually belong with the infamous name.

"I did--everyone knew of him."

Jimin snapped his stare to her. "But you knew more than that."

She nodded, unable to meet his gaze for once. Her humility was a rare sight; Jimin felt she would only show it when it concerned you. "I did. I knew what kind of man he was. I--God he was awful, you know that? But naturally, a man like him was interested in an all girl gang like ours. Our leader got in tight with him and we wound up seeing him more than I would ever like." She shivered, shifting her hips on the bed. "I thought that, when Y/N broke us free from those chains, it would be okay. I thought that I could see my friends--gang related or not--go to a party with them, enjoy myself with her around." Yoorin refused to open her eyes, thrown back into a past reality that seemed to cause her hands to shake. "I didn't know that some of those friends had then joined his group after we were disbanded."

"So let me throw a wild guess here--Taehyung was there. Hm? That's why he seems to be so damn interested in her?"

"You know, if you could just shut up with your misplaced anger--I don't have to tell you this shit. You get that?" Her eyes flew open. "But I want to tell you because for some reason this loveable fool here has fallen head over heels for you and though I fucking hate your guts, you should know this." She shook her head, trying to shake the anger from her veins with it--it didn't seem to work all that well. "I didn't even know that fucker's brother was interested in her too. Great. Good to know for future worry."

When Jimin stayed quiet, Yoorin continued.

"Taehyung wasn't at that party; he was doing something else I guess. But Kiyun was. And he, apparently, found out that Jun was Y/N's brother. I guess it had leaked from one of those bitches I used to call friends. Somehow that fucking psycho found out who she was related to and he pursued her. That night I just--god I just turned around for one second; one second." Her voice cracked and she was travelling back in time, about to sputter more nonsense.

"Yoorin." Jimin's voice was what broke her from her trance, and though she ducked her head and screwed her eyes shut tight enough to bust a blood vessel, she continued.

"I guess that they went on like, two dates. At the time, I didn't know about it because Y/N has that cute stutter, you know? And god, I think it's that stutter that makes me just want to pinch her cheeks and protect her from the world. She had never really talked much about boys back then because she knew I'd talk her ear off--that and I'd want to see whoever she was dating to meet/threaten to cut off his dick if he laid a finger on her. So, I didn't know. I just didn't know."

She swallowed.

"Kiyun had planned the entire fucking thing for her--the whole party was a trap to get her into the palm of his hand. And I brought her to it."

You made a noise in your sleep that had Jimin smoothing your hair off your forehead once more, your body sinking into his touch as your fingers twitched in Yoorin's. "Why was he after her? Why not Jun himself?"

"You should know better than anyone the best way to get to Jun was to get to her heart. Kiyun's main goal in life was to piss off Jun. Just like Taehyung wanted Sooyoung's heart just because it would piss you off--obviously the pipsqueak learned it from his brother."

Jimin said nothing, just ran his fingers lightly through your hair as you hummed a soft noise of contentment in your sleep.

"Later, after all of this shit, Y/N told me that she didn't want to go on a third date with Kiyun. She had a bad feeling about him, and when he threw the party for her she decided that she would tell him then. If only she had told me sooner; anyone and their mother knew not to piss off Kim Kiyun."

Jimin didn't want to know anymore, he didn't want to have to imagine what could cause a girl to hide her scars--he didn't want to know what could be done to someone to cause them to believe that no one would ever love them.

But Yoorin wasn't about to stop and there was nothing he could say that would make her. "He and his friends threw their drinks at her." Her eyes shifted back down to you, her lips twitching into a humorless grimace. "Do you know how fast alcohol seeps through clothing? Do you know how flammable that shit is? With one fucker on either side of her to stop her from running into the pool or rolling on the ground, they held her as she burned. Kiyun pinned me and forced me to watch. I--I will never forget the sound of her screams. Never. Because it was my fault." Her voice cracked, her eyes shaking even when she forced them closed. "They made me watch until Kiyun showed a smidgen of mercy and had one of his asshole friends kick her back into the water." She took in a shaking breath through her nose, surprising Jimin with the tears seeping through her lashes. "She was floating, they didn't let me go for a while--made me watch her float face down in the pool. She--I thought she was dead; I thought that I killed my best friend."

Jimin stared down at you, at the way--even asleep--you reached out to Yoorin. "It wasn't your fault."

"It's not your fault Jimin. Even with a gun in your hand it still isn't your fault."

He could feel some sort of warmth from the glance Yoorin spared him, but it was gone as soon as identified it. "It doesn't matter--I couldn't save her. She lives thinking that one mistake makes her unlovable--now you're going to leave her and solidify that belief in her."

"You were the one that told me to leave her."

"Because I feared for this--I feared that I would be here to see her on her deathbed, hurt and pleading. But you...you saved her. You did what I was never able to." Yoorin swallowed, forcing her drying gaze to him. "She's all I've got left, Jimin. You have to make her happy."

"You know--I don't think she blames you. Do you know that this girl only ever showed true anger when I opened my mouth towards you?"

Yoorin curled over you, holding onto you like she was floating away and you were the one thing keeping her feet on the ground. "She's so good. Too good."

Jimin pulled his touch from you. "I want to protect that. I want to make sure that she stays just like that. So you have to do your part and just...just made sure that she forgets about me."

"You know I can't."

"Try."

Yoorin stared up at him, reaching for his hand to keep him from leaving the room. "She loves you, and I know you feel the same towards her."

"Yeah." He met Yoorin's stare for stare. "I do."

She let out a groan towards the ceiling. "God, why couldn't you just be an asshole."

Jimin ducked his head, letting out a strained bit of laughter. "Why couldn't you be a true, stone-cold bitch?"

"Because she saved me, and now she's saving you."

Jimin ripped his wrist free from her grasp, turning to reach for the doorknob.

"Jimin."

He turned over his shoulder, refusing to let go of his only escape.

"Thank you." Yoorin whispered. "You brought her back alive; thank you."

He nodded once before opening the door and calling for Hoseok, hating the cracks he heard in the armor he'd worn since the day he pulled a trigger for the first time.

~.~

"She's up." Hoseok stepped out of the bedroom and into the hall, wiping off his hands with a rag.

Yoorin was almost immediately on her feet, shoving herself away from the kitchen table. Jimin only peered over his shoulder as he did the dishes, both parties looking to Hoseok for affirmation that you were going to be okay--that what Taehyung gave you wasn't going to kill you.

"She'll need medical attention for the next few days, plenty of fluids and protein to strengthen up--We need to purge it out of her system. But she's a fighter; I believe that she will make it." Hoseok met Jimin's gaze, tucking his rag into his pocket. "You were right to call me, Jimin. Whatever was in that crap would have killed her if you didn't get the right drug to counteract it."

"So you gave it to her?" Yoorin asked, staring between the two for answers to questions unspoken.

"Yes." Hoseok sighed. "I did, and now I'm tired. So if you need me, call me. But please don't need me." He murmured, stepping towards the door with a small wave. "Jimin...I'll see you when I see you."

"Thanks, hyung."

"Always."

As the door closed behind Hoseok, you padded down the hallway with creaky legs. "Y-Y-Y-Yoorin?" Your syllables were accented with heavy breathing and both Jimin and Yoorin turned to spot you leaning heavily on the wall for support.

Yoorin was by your side in an instant, transforming herself into your beam of support. "Why the hell are you up on your feet?" She hissed.

"I-I-I wanted t-t-to--" You looked up, your gaze finally landing on Jimin. "--t-to thank H-H-Ho-Ho-Hoseok. You're st-st-st-still h-h-here."

"I am." He scanned your face, his gaze softening when your shoulders relaxed. "You look better."

Yoorin managed to get you as far as the tile of the kitchen before you toddled out of her grasp and made your way towards him--slowly--eventually crashing into his chest. Instinctively, his arms wrapped around you. Yoorin met Jimin's gaze over the top of your head, prompting Jimin to look away and lead you towards the table.

"Come on," He said, "let's get you something to eat. We need to get your strength up so you can get better quicker."

~.~

It was night, late, a ticking bomb of a clock counting down the mere minutes he had left to look at you. He didn't use them properly; instead, he slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way towards his shoes in the foyer.

Before he could even get the first one on, the lights turned on overhead, momentarily blinding him. He spun quickly, catching sight of Yoorin leaning on the edge of the hall wall.

"Leaving so soon?"

"You should be happy." He murmured, bending to tie his shoes.

"Her happiness is mine; this girl doesn't know how to love half-heartedly. What she needs more than anyone else is you--and it's fucking obvious you need her too."

"Why do you say that?"

She gestured to her face, raising an eyebrow at him. "You have huge bags under your eyes and you haven't eaten because you burned half the meal and gave her the good bits yesterday. Jimin, would it even work to tell you how stupid you're being?"

"Probably not." And, before she could say anything more, he was out the door and on the street.

~.~

His first mission on his own was to find a place to hunker down and get some sleep. Which was how he wound up outside of the red light district, slipping into the opening arms of one of his older jaunts. The second he stepped through the doors he was greeted by harsh, pink, neon lighting and the giggles of girls already busy entertaining other men.

Honestly, he wasn't really interested--but services came with beds and he just wanted to sleep away his memories of you.

"Jimin!" The voice was sickly sweet in a way that used to be intoxicating back before you had injected some unknown poison into him. Now, the voice was annoying. "Jimin's here?" Another girl giggled, repeated by another and another until the voice that caught his attention finally arrived.

She leaned against the bar, one eyebrow raised. "Jimin, honey."

"Nana."

The woman wasn't much older than Jimin, but she'd already accomplished and seen more in the underbelly of the city than anyone else would want to. Clad in heels and a skirt that barely covered her ass, she grinned at him and hooked one acrylic nail to summon him closer.

He stepped towards her, his breath rushing out of him.

"Oh honey," She cooed, her arms wrapping around his neck to bring him closer. "It's been so long since you've come to my place for a good time." When he only looked away from her sultry stare, she hooked her finger under his chin and jerked his gaze back to her.

No matter what he did, he couldn't help but be disgusted that she wasn't you. He wanted glitter eyes, he kept wanting to hear your voice, and he wanted it to be your warmth and your smell instead of heavy perfume and sweaty skin.

"Oh?" Nana chuckled, her eyes scanning his face. "Who is she?"

He jerked free from her grasp, taking one step back. "No."

But this was Nana's home, and he knew that he couldn't get far from her grasp if he was to ask a favor of her. "Jimin, sweet pea. You know I don't want to hurt her--do you remember all I did for Sooyoung?" When Jimin didn't react to the name, Nana's eyes widened. Instantly her demeanor changed, her hand enclosing around his wrist. "Let's get you a bed, hm? A place to stay?"

"Thank you." He whispered, letting her drag him off to the back hall with a flickering sign that was practically unreadable past the strobe lights of the stage.

She unlocked a large room at the end of the hall, rushing him past obscene noises and strange sound backdrops that would forever haunt his dreams. Once inside, he fell towards the bed--the sudden quiet was almost draining.

Nana closed the door behind her, cocking a hip at him. "Now tell me who she is."

"I'm not getting her into this, noona." He grumbled face-first into the comforter.

She slapped his calf. "You know that you don't have a choice. If this girl is important to you then I need to make sure I can identify her if she comes through."

"I'd love for her to be under your protection, but she's already too--"

"Jimin. One more time--if I have to say it one more time so help me--"

"Y/N." He sighed, rolling over and up into a sitting position. "It's Y/N."

She stared at him, that look of shock a seemingly permanent fixture on her face. "Jun's baby sister?" Something in her stare softened and she cocked her head to the side, eyeing him up and down. "I think she suits you."

"The problem is that I don't suit her." He snarled, half tempted to throw a pillow at her--what stopped him was the sharpness to the heels she was wearing. He'd made that mistake once; note to self: never piss off Nana.

Nana only grunted. "I see why you're troubled. The men are especially dangerous for that one. I suppose Taebae has been giving you some trouble, yes?"

When Jimin said nothing she continued.

"Well, if you think running helps than by all means continue to pretend that this is the place you should be. I won't bother you; but I also won't stand by and watch you like this for long. Get some rest, Jimin-- then get the hell out of here. I'm not a fan of men with rubber spines." She threw open the door and left him alone in (what could've maybe resembled) peace; that was, if his hands still didn't remember the ghost of your skin.

~.~

Jimin found himself bouncing from place to place--Nana would call Yoongi if he didn't leave and she'd pretty much blacklisted him in the red light district in his area. It wasn't out of spite, more so out of her worry for him. She wanted him to have nowhere else to go but home, which, with her connections, wasn't hard to force him out.

So, that was how he wound up at an old friend's house in Taehyung's territory, sitting on the floor with his hood up as he charged his phone.  It was then, a week after his runaway, that the first call came in.

He answered, tilting his head back to stare up at the ceiling. "Namjoon."

"You picked up, I'm surprised."

"I thought I should make sure you're all aware that I'm alive and okay."

"Nana called me this morning and said she couldn't find you. She wanted me to check in." Namjoon sighed, pausing to murmur something to someone else in the room. "She worried she was too harsh on you."

Jimin snorted. "It's Nana; I know she has a soft spot for me." He paused, licking his lips; yet, he couldn't ask the questions burning at the back of his throat. "I'm surprised Yoongi's not yelling in the background for me to get my ass back there."

"That's because he's dealing with Y/N right now."

Just the sound of your name was like a punch in the gut; it'd only been a week but it felt like months. He was so used to just seeing you every now and then that it was surprisingly difficult without you there. "She's there?"

"She came looking for you, apparently today was the first day Yoorin left her alone."

"Does...does she look okay?"

"Ah." Namjoon paused and suddenly there was the rustle of fabric against the receiver, muffled shouts followed by the sound of your voice.

"I-I-Is th-th-that h-h-him?" It was quickly followed by a shout of frustration as it was difficult for you to get the words out fast enough.

Jimin hung up, practically throwing his phone to the floor.  He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the locks to stop himself from reaching for it again; he knew if he heard your voice, he would go back. If you spoke to him, if the two of you talked, you would reel him back into your arms as easy as breathing.

He ignored the calls that immediately sprung up; but then your tactics changed to texts.

Where r u?

Wait. Don't answer that that was Y/N.

Jimin! Answer me!

I'm going to gofDSAFHDSJGH

I'm gphinf

There was a pause, and then: Sorry, Y/N stole my phone. She's squirrely when she wants to be.

You know, she's pissed at you.

And she pinches like a crab.

Jimin let out a chuckle, imagining you and your stubborn fury. He knew you wouldn't give up easily. Soon--another week, maybe two--you'd let him fall through the cracks. You had other things to worry about: your kids, Yoorin. You were the good girl and he was the bad boy; you were supposed to let him go.

Yoongi's trying to kill her.

Jimin unplugged his phone from the charger.

I know you're not going to answer, but Yoongi is trying to commit a kidnapping.

You think I'm joking but he's literally got her handcuffed to a chair right now.

Jimin turned off his phone to silence the buzzing--the noise, the itching, burning, bleeding desire to just go back and let the world have its way with him. Instead, he left the last message unread as his screen powered down to black.

He probably should have read it.

  She says she's going to go see Taehyung.

Alone.

#bts #BTS jimin #bts jimin scenario #bangtan boys #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan scenarios #bts scenario #bts scenarios #bts angst #bts angst scenarios #bts fluff #bts fluff scenario #bts fluff scenarios #park jimin #bts park jimin #park jimin scenarios #park jimin angst #park jimin fluff #jimin #jimin fluff scenario #jimin fluff #bts jimin fluff #jimin angst #bts jimin angst #jimin angst scenario #Evangelene #just happened to be #kpop #kpop angst

[faunahudson]

settle | self para

Who: Fauna Flanagan and Percy Flanagan with mentions of Rory Flanagan, Conor Flanagan and Sawyer Hudson Where: Belfast When: Feburary 2020 What: Fauna and Percy discuss his opinions on her future Warnings: emotional abuse, derogatory language, Percy Flanagan

It’s pouring with rain the night in February that her father comes to collect her from uni. It was an odd thing that in her adult life she’d begun to rely on lifts, since her and Rory had almost never been collected from school beyond primary. This had partially been because Percy had accused Mary of coddling them by doing so, but mostly because they liked the independence of walking or getting the bus. Fauna had always enjoyed the opportunity to read one of the many paperbacks that she kept crammed in the bottom of her bag. While Rory claimed to like the social aspect of the bus referring to him and Dobsy accusing Tired Pete in the year below of having a gay love affair with the bus driver because he always got off with an under twelves fare way into his teens. It also made people suspect them less of being Tories because their parents didn’t drive them, made them seem more normal. Fauna had liked it that way less reason for people to look at them, and with her headphones in she could ignore the commentary on her sex life that had always followed her back then.

It had been funny, appearing at uni in Belfast. Despite being the new girl things actually weren’t all that weird, she wasn’t ostracised the last way she had been during high school, everything was different in her new classes. In the weeks leading up to her first day there had been the bubble of fear that it would be like it had been in Dublin, that the videos would be found and the rumours would start up all over again. But instead she had been greeted warmly. After classes there were invites to pubs and cups of tea offered, everyone wanted to get to know Sawyer. A few people had even asked about Alexis, which they laughed about over their daily FaceTimes. How funny it was that people liked her when she didn’t really need them to anymore. This new warmth from people had meant that she seldom needed to walk or to take the bus because there was always someone’s car she could cram into, but on this particularly rainy Tuesday she’s been at the clinic later than she expected and there’s no bus for an hour. She knows Sawyer will be working, so she calls her home phone hoping to catch Maurie or her Ma to beg a lift and maybe some dinner. The phone rings twice, when it picks up she goes to talk immediately the way she usually would but she’s halted by.

“Fauna.” Her father says obviously having recognised her number, his tone not annoyed or accusatory for once which makes her immediately wonder if he’s drunk.

“Hey Da, is Maurie there?” She asks, hoping that if he is truly good and drunk he’ll just pass the phone over and she won’t have to prolong their interaction.

“No, her and your Ma went over to your grandparents.” He isn’t drunk, she can tell that by now. If he was drunk he would have put the phone down after delivering that message. “What did you need them for?” If he’d been any other person in the entire world she would have told him it was nothing and then tried to rummage around in her bag for enough change for a cab into town. But she knew if she told him that it was nothing then it would start a fight where he’d demand to know what she was hiding from him, and her feet ached too much for that.

“Oh I was just gonna try and beg a lift from the clinic, scran something from Ma. You know how I am.” She says, though it’s not true. He barely knows her at all. There’s a pause, which lasts longer in her head than it probably did in real life because she’s so fucking cold.

“I’ll pick you up, we’ll go for a pint.” Those were the last words that she expected to come out of his mouth, and she blinks in surprise.

“Why?” She asks before she stop herself, it’s always a terrible idea to question Percy and her heart sinks as soon as she says it. That’s always the problem with living with someone who you can completely be herself with, she forgets that she has to put her guard back up with other people.

“Because you need a fucking lift and I’m the only one in, god it’s not complicated Fauna Eloise.. sometimes I wonder what they teach you up there because it’s not bloody common sense.” Percy snaps.

“Sorry Da.. you’ve just never picked me up before.” Fauna responds, trying to mollify him. “Thanks though.” She adds, he’s not actually punished her since that time at parents week but she doesn’t really want to go through it again.

“Text me the address.” He says, and honestly even though she’s sure she’ll probably live to regret it right now she’s just grateful to think about getting out of the cold. A pint, is a pint after all. Though Percy hadn’t done anything particularly heinous since Sawyer punched Harold at new years, so she supposed she was about due for him to do something to remind her why she hated him so much.

Percy has brought his favourite Porsche coupe and it arrives a lot sooner than Fauna thought it would. She’d almost expected he’d keep her waiting, to punish her for questioning his motives. She dashes through the rain and slips into the front seat, to find Percy listening to the rugby. “Thanks for the lift Da, it’s vile outside.” The weather is usually a pretty safe topic, Percy hates the rain. There’s a brief conversation about the state of the roads, and what she was doing at the clinic before he looks at her and says.

“You can drive can’t you? Why don’t you have a car?” Fauna has to bite her lip hard to keep from laughing at this question. God he really didn’t have any idea what life was like did he? As if her and Sawyer could think about running a car when all they had to live on was the few shifts that she could take at the ER, his barely minimum wage earnings at the pub and what was left of her savings. They could barely afford groceries some weeks, and she’d been shoving the council tax bills underneath the freezer until Maurie had insisted that they take an envelope of ‘Christmas money’ to get rid of them.

“Yeah I can drive, you gave me a lesson once remember?” She reminds him. That was probably the last time that he’d volunteered to spend time with her that wasn’t to give her a bollocking. The lesson hadn’t been terrible to be honest, mostly because Percy liked feeling in control and like he was the smarter one of the two and Fauna didn’t mind learning when she thought the skill was useful. “Canne afford a car though, don’t really need one anyway I only really go to uni and to the pub. Sawyer borrows Glens car sometimes.. if we’re gonna go visit Nana or something.”

He grunts in recognition of the lesson. “You’d have more than enough money if you lived at home.” That’s the second time that evening that he’s stunned her to silence, and so she just stares at him like a fish. Was he really suggesting that she should move home?

“I mean.. I guess. But me and Sawyer are happy where we are I think. It’s nice to have a place of our own, weren’t really supposed to live together at school. ” She responds eventually, she wants to ask him why she would ever want to move home when he’d all but shoved them out of the door when they’d lived there for the month after Ohio. “Besides my single is a bit small for both of us. Sawyers a big lad.”

“Hm.” Is all her father replies it’s not like she expected him to laugh, she doesn’t think he’s ever laughed at one of her jokes but she does have to wonder where he’s going with all this. Her hands fidget in her lap as she waits for the penny to drop but he doesn’t press her on the topic. After a brief silence they pull up to one of the fancy country restaurants that Percy loves where the prices make her teeth hurt. She’s been uncomfortable with this kind of thing since she was a little girl who wore her wellie boots to church. As a kid she used to say she wasn’t hungry anymore and she didn’t want to go inside, which would usually cause him to call her ungrateful and all but yank her from the car while Rory wailed that he wanted Mcdonalds. Even now as an adult she wants to tell him that she’s not dressed for this kind of pint, and that she still stinks of the clinic. But again she knows that it’s not worth fighting over so she pulls the hood of her coat up and trudges with him inside. 

Percy knows the girl on the door, and he speaks to her in an odd charming voice that Fauna knew he had but had never experienced first-hand. She thinks about this version of her father occasionally though, when she’s wondering how Maurie or her Ma ever ended up with him. It’s this charming Dominant they thought they were getting claimed by, not the bad-tempered man who can never be wrong, that ended up raising their kids. They’re shown to a table, and handed expensive looking leather bound menus. Fauna almost doesn’t want to open the thing, but her stomach is growling so she scans the print for the cheapest thing on the menu.

“It’s on me.” Percy says as if reading her mind. It’s early in the dinner for him to declare this, one of his favourite games when he brought her and Sawyer out was always to order and then ask them to pay at the end of the meal. Watching them try to scrap around for enough money to cover the extortionate tab, before the waitress told them that Mr Flanagan had already paid. It was the kind of humiliating mind game that Percy specialised in, always reminding them that they relied on him, that they needed him. Fauna considers asking him whether or not he’s sure he wants to pay but that’s another question so instead she says.

“Thank you very much Da, you didn’t have to bring me out here. I’d have taken a half eaten bag of crisps.” She jokes, her stomach rumbling as her eyes scan over the options. While she’s not a fan of fancy places, she is looking forward to eating something that she didn’t make in that one pot that never seemed to have quite lost the burned crust that she’d created when Sawyer had distracted her while she was trying to make red wine gravy.

“I know, you’ve always been willing to eat any old shit.. Take shit from everyone. You shouldn’t settle though, not about food and not in your life Fauna.” Percy says, and Fauna is starting to wonder if this is all about Sawyer somehow. Percy had been awfully nice to Sawyer since the incident at new years and she now had a creeping suspicion that he’d just been biding his time, lulling them into a false sense of security.

“I mean I actually do just really like cheap food to be honest with you Da, I really enjoyed the American preoccupation with junk food while I was there. As for everything else, I don’t really think I’m settling. I thought I was doing pretty well to be honest, I left a school that I didn’t think was gonna give me a fair shot, I’m studying to be a doctor at the best school around and I’ve got an amazing boyfriend.. what more could I want?”

“You live in a pokey one bedroom flat and you can’t afford a car, you and Sawyer should be thinking about a house of your own.” Percy declares, and honestly Fauna is just glad that Sawyer was included in whatever weird fucking conversation they were about to have. 

“I mean once I’m qualified Da.. we’ll work on a claim and then we can start to think about getting a house and stuff. But I’m in med school right now, that’s you know.. expensive.” She wants to mention her trust fund, because it would solve every single problem that he keeps talking about. But she’d rather try to work out where he’s going with all this first. 

The waitress arrives at that point, and Fauna hasn’t even really thought about what she wants though she decides to use this to her advantage. “Can you order for me Da? You know what’s good here better than me” Percy actually almost cracks a surprised smile at this, letting a Dominant order for you is good manners in his book. Fauna has never been opposed to this kind of power exchange when it’s consensual, though usually not with her father. But she knows that he thinks she’s a terrible submissive, that she’s not willing to follow any kind of rules so little gestures like this can occasionally help with keeping him in a good mood. He orders her something with goats cheese that Maurie apparently likes and a regular pint. 

“I know you think I’m some kind of monster, because I won’t just let you and your brother waste your lives. And you act like I’m a cunt because Ive always tried to stop you from parading yourself around like a whore and acting like a nasty little brat.” Percy says, and Fauna takes a long drink of the pint that’s just been put in front of her. Vodka would have been better. Just when she was thinking this was going well. “But I push you because I know you can have more, and because I always wanted you to find a decent claim. Unlike your moron of a twin, I always knew you had potential. You’re decent looking like your mother, and nobody would ever shut up about how clever you were even when you were a kid. Though it was always like pulling teeth getting you to show it. Obviously there was no chance of you going into the business because you’ve always been submissive and overly emotional.. but I pushed you to do what you were good at.” Fauna wants to say that yelling abuse and emotional manipulation go a little further than ‘pushing’ and that if he really wanted to push her he could have offered to help with medical school but she holds her tongue. “I’ve always been trying to teach you not to be a chump and to be able to stand on your own two feet like I had to. Nobody gave me a hand out.” 

In a world where Percy wasn’t the worst person on the planet , Fauna might have spoken about him with pride. He was self made after all, his friends were always clapping him on the back and talking about his clever investments outside of the business. But he’d soured every page of his biography with his actions, and left her uninterested in knowing how he made the money that he so loved to hold over her and Rorys heads. The money that he used to manipulate her mother and Maurie into submission, and literally the only thing that made him any difference from the drunks that he sneered at on a Saturday night. 

“You’ve been making improvements though I’ve noticed, since our talk in Ohio. You’ve been more like a submissive should be, less crass, not dragging yourself out of bars like a tramp. Minding your manners.” Percy says, and Fauna raises an eyebrow. “And New Year reminded me something.. that I’ve been too hard on you particularly in a way. I always lump you and Rory in together because everyone else does. Which was never good for you, you don’t want people thinking you're a layabout junkie like him. I gave you the same treatment because I thought you needed the same push to succeed. But you’re a submissive and so I shouldn’t expect you to be able to do things for yourself. You’re supposed to be weak, you should be obedient.” In her mind Fauna punches him square in the jaw, and she stays visualising that as the waitress puts something that smells delicious in front of her. “But when the Yank fucking battered Harold, I realised that getting you under control was about finding you the right Dominant and shaping him. At first I thought the Hudson boy was a total waste of fucking air since he’s a skint drifter, with no decent family to speak of, American and he seemed like a pansy. But then I realised he’s got balls, and he seems to have enough of a grip on you that you’re no longer spreading your legs for anything that breathes.”

There’s a part of Fauna that feels some sort of twisted pride that her father is starting to approve of Sawyer, the words that are coming out of his mouth in many ways disgust her. But that stupid little girl who just wouldn’t give up hope that her Dad would someday be proud of her was jumping up and down that her Dad thought Sawyer could be a good match for her. 

“I am committed to Sawyer.” She confirms for the millionth time, always feeling a little sick when he brought up the idea that she might have sex with anyone else. “And he’s a really, really good Dominant.”

“Hm.” Percy responds as he tucks into his steak. “It’s his future I’m interested in, like I said you two can’t spend your life in that dirty little flat. You need to be looking ahead, and I mean to help with that. You need to keep focusing on uni obviously, and on being a decent submissive. But I can help give him a push in the right direction.”

Fauna has no idea how to respond to this decision making process, because on one hand she wants to try and shield Sawyer from everything that comes along with having Percys attention. But if Percy warming up to Sawyer meant that he might relax on his one strike and you're out policy, then it would help them both sleep a little easier at night. So she doesn’t really say anything for the rest of dinner, he makes a cruel remark about her being greedy when she wants to order dessert, and takes several very underhanded digs at how much Rorys rehab costs which she can’t ignore and has to bite back on. But it’s probably the longest they’ve ever been alone in a very long time. 

When he drops her off back at her apartment he reaches into his wallet, and pulls out a wad of twenties. “Buy yourself a bottle of decent booze.” He instructs. “You should be able to serve something that’s not shite when you have people over.” She has no intention of using the money for that, but she thanks him all the same and gets out of the car without feeling totally like shit for once. Which in turn makes her feel guilty, like she was betraying herself and Rory somehow for not totally hating every second that she spent with Percy. For letting him get away with at least half of what he’d said, Rory would never have sat there passively while he insulted the flat that her and Sawyer worked hard to afford and Sawyers parents who were good hard working people. Yet despite all that he’d said, Fauna considered the meeting to have gone well, and she just didn’t know if that made her a bad person or not. 

Glancing up at the apartment building she could see a light on, and that familiar relief of knowing that she could talk to Sawyer about what was worrying her spread over her body. So without agonising further, she punched in the key code and disappeared out of the rain. Leaving what she could of her guilt and unease behind her. 

#(( the past is talking now ))

[marshmallow-the-vampire-slayer]

MTVS Epic Rewatch #178

VM 3x11 Poughkeepsie, Tramps and Thieves

Stray thoughts

1) Okay, all the cuteness and fluff in this opening scene should’ve been a warning sign that this episode wasn’t going to end on a happy note for LoVe, right? I mean, tell me this doesn’t read as a piece of fanfic.

VERONICA: Are you gonna eat that? LOGAN: This? VERONICA: Yeah, that fry in particular. LOGAN: That was the plan. VERONICA: I'm just saying, if you weren't, or if you were just gonna consume it out of obligation or to meet someone else's expectations, I know someone who might be willing to take it off your hands. VERONICA: Maybe add a little ketchup, make it worth a girl's while.

VERONICA: You're welcome.

Of course, I’ve embraced the notion that Rob Thomas is actually writing LoVe fanfiction a long time ago.

2) Ugh, Weevil’s so sad about the Dean’s death. Of course, he is! How many people have actually given a rat’s ass about Weevil? Not that many, and the Dean was one of them.

3) So, Lamb is more of an idiot than I thought. I mean, this is how responds to Keith’s burn…

He doesn’t understand his own sarcastic comment is actually a self-burn? Like, you can actually read his lips (“Oh, fuck”) when he realizes what he just said?

4) “ You're just like the rest of them, aren't you? You just want to use me for my skills and pay me for my time and effort.”

5)

MAX: If you don't find her, I'm taking a bath with my blow-dryer.

6) This is one of Veronica’s traits that always rubs me the wrong way, probably because people mocking others’ interests is a personal pet peeve of mine…

MAX: It was Comic-Con. VERONICA: You didn't get all sweaty in your Wookiee suit, did you? MAX: Yuk it up. You know, it's not all Trekkies and Star Wars nerds. I was there because Dave Gibbons has a new graphic novel that he scripted as well as drew. VERONICA: [sarcastically] Sounds cooler now. 

Get off your high horse, Veronica. There’s nothing uncool about liking stuff. That mentality sucks.

What’s worse, she’s clearly a closet nerd, since she can both deliver and understand geeky references.

7) Now, this is the Veronica I love...

MAX: Have a seat.

VERONICA: No, thanks. It's easier to be nosy if I can mill about.

 8) And I love this little Easter egg...

VERONICA: You know Mac and Parker? This is their room.

MAX: Who?

VERONICA: Uh, this photo.

MAX: No, that's from the around-the-world party. That's my roommate, Brian, and my friend, Fred. I think that room was supposed to be Canada, but it was kind of lame.

9) This is gross on so many levels…

VERONICA: The glass-is-half-full version: Chelsea's not getting married. Max is overjoyed. MAX: Are you serious? VERONICA: Yeah. The half-empty version is...she's a hooker. VERONICA: Brian and Fred, as demented as this sounds, thought you'd have more confidence with girls if you...lost your virginity.

10) And this is something the show did a lot during this season, and I honestly appreciate it:

MAX: Can you still find her?

VERONICA: Um...yes. But she'll still be a prostitute.

MAX: I'm not stupid, Veronica. Okay, we had something. I know it. There's some things you can't fake.

VERONICA: There are some things women are universally known for faking, and this girl is a professional.

MAX: When I dropped her off at the airport, she had tears in her eyes.

VERONICA: Are you sure she wasn't thinking of the cab fare back?

See, Veronica’s fieldwork in the world of P.I. has given her hands-on experience on how seedy and corrupted everyone is. Expecting the worse and jumping to conclusions has become second nature to her. She can’t help it. It doesn’t help that more often than not, her instincts are right. But on occasion, people surprise her and prove her wrong. This will be one of those cases, at least in the sense that Wendy really had feelings for Max. And every time Veronica is proven wrong in her preconceptions, it feels so refreshing because Veronica is judgmental and jaded to a fault. And like Logan told her a few episodes ago, she’s not always right. She still believes she is, though.

It still kind of feels this pattern of Veronica having preconceptions and then being proven wrong was building up to something bigger, you know? Veronica had become more prejudiced and prone to snap judgments at the same time she became more reckless and cocky with her detective work. As the season progresses, her sense of infallibility and almightiness gets stronger. But she is never forced to face the music. I think it would’ve been a great arc if she was.

11) See point 6) above.

VERONICA: That explains why Chelsea was into comic books. Chelsea's a dude.

12) 

13)

KEITH: Will you be home for dinner?

VERONICA: No, I'm meeting two hookers over at Logan's later.

KEITH: On a school night?

VERONICA: Off-peak hours. Save a few bucks.

KEITH: You're not really.

VERONICA: Fiona and Lizette. They're just a couple of gals putting themselves through college. Man, quit bringing me down with your bourgeois hang-ups.

14) This conversation pretty much sums up Logan’s and Veronica’s issues and insecurities as well as their relationship’s shortcomings in this season.

VERONICA: So, have you...ever been with one? LOGAN: An escort? VERONICA: Yeah. LOGAN: Do we really want to go there? VERONICA: I guess we don't have to now. LOGAN: Come on, that wasn't me answering the question. VERONICA: It kinda was. LOGAN: No, it wasn't. That was me knowing there's a land mine and trying to figure out where to put my foot. VERONICA: Well, I guess you picked your spot. Look, why not dispel any romantic notions? If we see each other, warts and all, and still like each other, that's a real connection. LOGAN: Well, maybe I enjoy my romantic notions. Maybe I don't care to see any warts, you know, yours or mine. Now you see, you're smiling, all right, so I think it's all fun and safe, but it's a slippery slope from "Have you ever been" to "How many" and "How often." VERONICA: So you've been with multiple hookers on several occasions. LOGAN: I'm not having this conversation with you.

On the one hand, Veronica claims she wants to know about Logan’s sexual exploits so that they can disregard any “romantic notions” they might have about each other and love each other as they truly are. On paper, that seems like a solid statement. And I’d buy it if she wasn’t prying on Logan’s sexual exploits, to begin with. Veronica has always been terrified of Logan cheating on her, with has more to do with her own insecurities than him giving her actual reasons to suspect him. Other than the one time he “cheated” on Lilly with Yolanda (and I think it’s fair to quote Ross Geller’s “we were on a break” defense,) Logan’s always been faithful. Yes, he does sleep around when he’s single, but when he’s in a relationship with someone he loves? I think Logan would cut his own dick before cheating. Veronica knows this. She’s had first-hand experience on how loyal and faithful Logan can be. And she had a first-row seat to Logan and Lilly’s relationship – he was the cheatee, not the cheater. So the fact that she wants to dig in Logan’s previous sexual relationships has to do with her own insecurities as regards how she won’t measure up to Logan’s former sexual partners. She probably feels inexperienced and inadequate. She might even think he could get bored of having sex with her (I know, she’s delusional! Logan could never get tired of her! NEVER!) And so she’s been restlessly waiting for the other shoe to drop and for Logan to cheat on her pretty much since they started dating.

On the other hand, there’s Logan claim that he’d rather avoid this conversation because it is quite literally a landmine. He’s honest, of course. And right. Nothing he could ever say would satisfy Veronica. And that’s the problem. That’s his own insecurity when it comes to her. But the difference is, his insecurities are well-founded. We already got a glimpse of this when the whole Mercer-and-the-hotel-on-fire thing came up. What frightens Logan more than anything is that he believes he will never be good enough for Veronica. And Veronica, more often than not, makes him feel wanting. So, you see, fessing up about his sleazy past won’t exactly paint him in a boyfriend-material light. Logan’s smarter than that. Moreover, he knows he’ll probably feed Veronica’s mistrust because for some reason she has this internalized misconception that if you are a sexual being, then you’re prone to cheating.

15) 

VERONICA: Sorry, Lizette. Looks like we're gonna have to reschedule. Pay the girl, Max.

LOGAN: If we're paying her anyway...

VERONICA: Honey?

16) Look at this goofus face when the two lovers are finally reunited! You truly believe this guy could cheat?

17) Ugh, and then…

To Logan’s credit, he didn’t even bat an eye when she showed up. But then…

VERONICA: No, Madison is pretty much the physical embodiment of all things I loathe. If Dick starts dating her again, you're gonna need to get a different roommate.

He can’t look her in the eye because he knows, he knows what her reaction is going to be once she finds out he slept with Madison (even if they weren’t together when he did…)

18) I fucking love this moment…

The way Keith just looks at her like actually taking note of her advice? It kills me.

19) Favorite!

20) 

WENDY: Oh, my God. Thank you. That's the thing about being a working girl. Easy to break into, not so easy to get out of. It's not like I'm one of the big earners, but I have this client, a judge. VERONICA: Ooh, a judge? Which one? WENDY: Cramer. VERONICA: No freaking way! My dad busted him for taking bribes, and the old bastard still got re-elected. WENDY: He is the kinkiest out of all my clients. No sex, he just likes to sneak me into his office at the courthouse. All he wants to do is have tickle fights and walk around in my shoes.

And while Veronica is delighted with this piece of information, Max is…

…the opposite of delighted?

21) “For what little it's worth, I was totally wrong. You and Wendy do have something. You two are great together, and I'm sorry. And this just plain sucks.” You see? How nice is it to hear Veronica admitting she wasn’t right?

But, of course, literally one minute later…

VERONICA: It's purple makeup. The bruise was a fake. You've been had. They duped you. Nicki didn't get worked over by her pimp. She and Wendy just conned you out of a grand. MAX: That's crazy. VERONICA: Crazy? She screws people for money, Max. That's what she does. VERONICA: I'm sorry. That wasn't- MAX: No, I'm an idiot. VERONICA: You're not. From where I stand, Wendy's the idiot. And now we must crush her.

No evidence other than the stained cloth and yet she thinks she’s figured it all out. And she’s ready for payback. Ugh, I wish they would’ve gone somewhere with this pattern of behavior!

22) You see what I mean?!

LOGAN: This is a bad idea.

VERONICA: It's blackmail. It's the go-to idea. In case of emergency, break glass or blackmail.

LOGAN: Uh, excuse me if I can't get jazzed about my girlfriend extorting a judge.

VERONICA: Look, I'm not doing a back handspring about it either, but I'm getting Max his thousand dollars back, and I'm taking away Wendy's best client. It works on so many levels.

MAX: You don't have to do this.

Like, even Max tells her she doesn’t have to do this. And she ploughes ahead

23) And, let’s be honest, she gets off on it…

VERONICA: I can't believe I had to blackmail a judge just to get some alone time with you.

24)

VERONICA: But seriously, folks... have you? LOGAN: What? Ever been with a hooker? Why does it matter? VERONICA: I just want to know. I assume the answer is yes. Look at it as an opportunity for me to show you how cool I can be. "Hooker? Who cares?" LOGAN: Well, here's your chance to be cool. Stop asking. VERONICA: I just want to get to a place with you where we can be really... intimate. LOGAN: That's what the female praying mantis says before she bites the male's head off. VERONICA: I'm just saying, buried secrets tend to surface when I'm around. LOGAN: Maybe that's because of all the digging, huh? VERONICA: I'm giving you the chance right now to come clean. You tell all. I tell all. Go from there. LOGAN: Hm, fine. Ask away. Ask anything you want. VERONICA: Have you ever been with a hooker? LOGAN: No.

She’s giving him a chance to “come clean” as if he’s committed some sort of crime. And she can’t help her smile when he confesses he’s never been with a prostitute.

25) So was he talking about the beach girl or Madison? Or, possibly, both. 

VERONICA: Were you with anyone while we were broken up? LOGAN: Landmine. I fooled around with this horrible girl who meant less than nothing to me, and I couldn't regret it more. Thinking of it makes me ill. So, there. Presto. Intimacy. Still love me? VERONICA: Yes.

26) You see Veronica? You’re not invincible…

27) 

VERONICA: You just handed over a hundred hundred dollar bills.

MAX: Yeah, I was there.

VERONICA: And what guarantee do you have that-

28) To be honest, I love how Weevil treats Wendy in this scene. Like, no judgment at all! He’s just happy to see someone he knows and wants to say hello! You’re cool beans, Weevs.

WEEVIL: Hey, I-I know you.

VERONICA: Weevil, this is Wendy.

WEEVIL: Fiona, right?

WEEVIL: You used to dance at the Electric Lady. My buddy was a bouncer up there.

WENDY: You must be thinking of someone else.

WEEVIL: No, I don't think so. You have a tattoo, red dragon, left cheek. Am I right?

29) Okay, so that lasted as long as a un pedo en una canasta. (sorry, I like this idiomatic expression in Spanish and I’m not even trying to translate it.)

MAX: "The-the day we met was one of the best days of my life. I-I fell for you that day, but you didn't know what I was then, and now you do and it shows in the way you look at me. It shows in the way you touch me but I'll never regret it. You made me realise what I was missing. Love, Wendy."

30) UGH UGH UGH…

MADISON: Oh, Logan and I hooked up in Aspen over the holidays. I guess you two were split, huh? I was in town and thought he might have some free time, but, oh, well. Oh, and, as a friend, he's not so big on the one-piece numbers.

#Veronica Mars #VM #Kristen Bell #Logan Echolls #Rob Thomas #LoVe #Poughkeepsie Tramps and Thieves #MTVSepicrewatch #VMrewatch2015 #mine #recap #vmrecap