#just...after everything especially the 7 year gap i think he can be a little mean as a treat

[a-cold-case-of-turnabout]

I think Phoenix as a character deserves to be a little bit of a Bastard. So many fics make him just the nicest guy and that’s fine BUT pSSS PSSS PSSS come CLOSER. MAYBE HE DESERVES TO BE A LITTLE MEAN. A little HORRIBLE EVEN.

#just...after everything especially the 7 year gap i think he can be a little mean as a treat #Like even in canon he has snippy little comments about everything #I just think that while being the nicest guy in the room might be accurate for him #we have to also consider that the other guy in the room is Edgeworth #ace attorney #phoenix wright

[i-magines]

Wildest Dreams: Chapter 3

Pedro Pascal x fem!Reader

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5 | CHAPTER 6  | CHAPTER 7 | CHAPTER 8 | CHAPTER 9 | CHAPTER 10

synopsis: You’re an assistant director in an indie movie set and fate makes sure you keep crossing paths with a certain Chilean actor.  

disclaimer: This is my first Pedro Pascal’s fictional work + the first fanfic I write in English, as it isn’t my first language. Unfortunately, I do not own Pedro and this is all a product of my imagination.

rating: M (keep scrolling if your under 18 please)

warnings: age gap, mature content, fem!reader, eventual drinking and drugs, a little smut but nothing crazy (yet), a bit slow burn but not really.  

word count: 1,509

Over the first month, your friendship with Pedro only grew stronger. You were afraid once the production set was moved to the country, he was going to just disappear, as you were no longer roommates. You’d be lying to yourself if you said he didn’t make you feel anything, especially with how charming and flirting he was. You both had shared a lot of personal stuff over smoking joints and you were already used to hanging out together after a day of filming. But today things were going to be different, because the producers had organized a little happy hour for the crew.

Speaking of them, you had asked Pedro to keep your friendship on the low, at least during the job. You knew what everyone would say and think, mostly about you alone, so you were looking after yourself. He understood that and apparently didn’t care to be sneaking out like a teenager to spend some time with you.

“There you are”, Pedro happily greeted you on the corner of the happy hour room, about two hours into the event. “I almost didn’t get the chance to see you today. How’s everything going?”

At this point, you were certain the director hated you, but thank God he was the only one. Everyone else seemed to really like you and your work, which helped a lot with your anxiety.

“He spent the day trying to drive me crazy… Again”, you told Pedro. “You?”

“I would definitely rather be directed by you, if I’m being honest” he said in sympathy. “But yeah, it won’t take long for me to tell him to fuck off. Super nicely, of course.”

You both laughed. You could see he had been drinking and so did everybody in the room. Somebody turned up the music and Pedro dragged you to the improvised dance floor. You danced for about half an hour, until you saw him going to talk to Donna, one of the producers. They seemed friendly— too friendly, if somebody asked your opinion. You noticed it before, how close they acted sometimes, but at the end of the day, it was none of your business. Flo, the make-up artist that got you the job, got your attention and you walked to her.

“What’s up with that face?” She shot you the question. Flo was in her mid 40s and you got to know her in your first gig, since then she was always trying to connect you with people. You really liked her and, most importantly, trusted her. “You looked like you were about to commit murder on the dance floor. I know Dave is giving you a hard time, but honestly he is doing this to every single soul.”

“I was just wondering, is Donna taken?”, you asked as if you had no intention behind it.

“Yeah, I think so”, she told you. “Why? You gay too?”

“Someti— wait, what?” You stared at each other for a few seconds. “Is she?”

“As far as I know”, she said simply. “And by that I mean I’ve known her for about 10 years now. Sorry to disappoint you.”

“No, you didn’t. I mean, good for her, right.”

You decided you need to put your shit together now on. You excused yourself and went to get another drink — you can be a new woman tomorrow. You took some shots and got a drink to hold while you watched everyone dancing and having a good time. You tried to force yourself to stop thinking about your crush on Pedro.

“I need professional help”, you whispered to yourself.

“And why is that?”

“Shit, Pedro!” You jumped, realizing he was right by your side. “You scared the shit out of me, you shithead.”

“Wow, language, sweetheart”, he laughed at your reaction, putting his arm over your shoulder. “What are you up to?”

“Not much, just enjoying the free drinks”, you replied, also enjoying the proximity of his body. “I can see you’re enjoying them yourself.”

“Nah, I’m thinking about getting out of here, people are starting to get too drunk and God forbid I witness anything I can’t unsee”, he was being playful and seemed happy when he got a smile out of you. “Care to join me? Or you already have plans for tonight?”

“Yeah, you know me, Miss Popularity herself”, you both laughed. “Seriously, though. I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Is it okay if we leave together? Considering your privacy policy”, he whispered in your ear. Only if he knew how weak that makes you. You just nodded. “After you, mi princesa.”

Fuck you, Pedro Pascal, you thought as you made the effort to move your shaking legs. Two options: first, he had no idea of his effects on you, or second, he did know that and he just liked to torture you. However it is, you were not willing to make a move to figure it out. 

The location of the shooting was a huge farm, so you walked together through the open field, towards his cabin. You got inside and took your shoes off.

“Hey, mister ‘I’m just a common worker as everybody else’, tell me again why exactly you are the only one with a private hot tube”, you teased him. He laughed. “Is it because you’re such good friends with Donna?”.

“So that’s what it was about back in the happy hour?” Pedro looked deeply into your eyes. “Such a jealous little girl, uh?”

You looked away, embarrassed. You can’t deny your brain formulated that sentence, but the alcohol spilled it out your mouth.

“Answering your question, I’m not really friends with Donna, but her partner is one of my closest colleagues in the industry”, he said in a patient tone. “And you’re welcome to use the hot tube whenever you feel like it.”

You could feel your cheeks burning. Fuck.

“I didn’t mean to— to be honest, I don’t even know what I meant, so don’t mind drunk Y/N”, you breathed out strongly.

“Why don’t we forget about it and instead go chill in the hot tube?” He offered you a smile. Pedro was so easy to deal with, always trying to make you comfortable. “I have more of that nice whisky you like.”

You quickly put on your bikini in your room and head back to Pedro’s cabin. You could hear the happy hour turning into a party on the back, as you joined him inside the tub. You did your best to not stare at his toned, tanned body. He was smoking a cigar and handed you a glass.

“You know what’s funny”, he started, you already knew you wouldn’t find it funny at all. “This is the second time I see you in a tub.”

“Well, fuck you very much sir”, you held a serious face before letting a smile scape. “That was traumatic.”

“Why is that? I would say you made quite an impression”, he laughed, something different sparkling in his eyes. “Would it bother you if I said I still think about it?”

You felt your body hot, as if the water was on boiling point.

“God”, you whispered. He never took his eyes off yours. “I don’t know what to say, Pedro.”

“It’s a simple question, sweetheart”, he replied, coming a little closer. You got chills all over your body. “Honestly, I don’t know if you only see me as this friendly, older, disgusting man—”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” you cut him before he could finish. “Feel free to think about whatever you like.”

“Good”, he said quietly, his body even closer, but still not touching yours. “Tell me what you were doing on the tub that day, sweetheart.”

“I-I was, uh,” you felt like you were about to explode, your brain trying to process if this was really happening. “I was touching myself.”

“Finally, princesa”, he let out a deep breath against your neck. “You don’t know how many times I wanted to hear you say this, to be sure my memory wasn’t fucking with me.”

He touched your waist with his hand, putting the cigar away with the other one. You felt delirious.

“What are you going to do now that you know?” The question popped out of your mouth.

He grabbed your arm to move your body, making you sit on his lap. Face to face. He was hard as fuck.

“I will take you back to your cabin, give you a goodnight kiss…” He made a pause. His stare was deep down your soul. “Come back to mine and think ‘bout you while I mind my own business.”

He was dead serious.

“I’m too horny to go to sleep”, you cried to him, all your blood concentrated between your legs. You moved on his lap, rubbing against his cook.

“Trust me”, he said as his hands firmly held your hips down, making you stop and yet feel him ever harder. “I feel the same way.”

He gave you a little forehead kiss.

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

CHAPTER 4 AVALIABLE NOW

TAGLIST: @kyuupidwrites @omg-its-typical-aesthetics-fan @vivibabiez @ivyohmy @sebastianstansimp @tubble-wubble @28cnn @3zae-zae3 @technicallysassyfox @bellatrixyoass @mandolover86​ (edit: i’m not sure why i wasn’t able to tag everybody i’m trying my best here)

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro x reader #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction

[breezytealy]

Summoning Goten and Trunks fans

HI RIGHT so I'm trying to get ages and school years for Goten and Trunks and it's driving me bonkers (working out Blue Hal but birthdays will do), feel free to chip in and correct, I'll update the original post with strikethrough corrections if needs be.

ETA: would be too much to correct but @secretsofdbz has a really good breakdown of why we can consider Daizenshuu (and therefore most online timelines) as out in the reblogs. The post below attempts to square Daizenshuu by squinting but sounds like it's neater to just ignore it. It's too late for my fics I'm stuck with parkour, but maybe not for yours if you're particular!)

At the end of the day it doesn't matter but I like everything to line up as best as possible and headcanon what I can't.

They're born 767 and 766 respectively, Future Trunks is postulated as Nov 766 as he's stated he was born about six months before the androids arrive. We know Goten is born after late May 767's Cell games.

In the early May 774 tournament before Buu we know they give their ages as 7 and 8, but since that's impossible for Goten I like to think he rounded up and Trunks was born earlier than Future Trunks. Trunks could have also lied but we know the timestream changes and it's just funnier to me that a 6 year old would lie to be a cooler age, especially if his friend is 8.

Running with those constraints we're at:

Goten: May 767 - Dec 767

Trunks: Jan 766 - early May 766

I thinkkk Blue Hal takes place 3 months before Super Hero, which is when Pan is 3. She's born 779 (seeing references to May?) so Blue Hal at the latest is early 783 could be late 782? She's also supposed to have just started kindergarten in Blue Hal, but I don't have the Japanese scan to see if it's Japanese or American naming, and kids join nursery all the time so idk if there's strict timing help there. We also know Goten and Trunks are one school year apart.

So! Taking late 782 for arguments sake:

Trunks is 16 turning 17 sooner rather than later

Goten is 15, turning 16 later rather than sooner

In the Japanese system which runs April to April and three year high school, to keep them only a year apart Trunks needs to be born after April (so basically born in April 766), making him a first year high schooler (already turned 16), so Goten is a final year middle schooler (May 767 - Dec 767, has or will turn 15 in that apr 782-mar 783 school year).

BUT we know they go to the same school, and it's literally written as "high school" in the Japanese, and it's in West City, so they could be a freshman and sophomore.

Going further, if it's a Western High School the American system runs September to September, that means Trunks can be born Jan-early May 766 and Goten May 776-Aug 767 for the year gap, and in that case Goten is a sophomore and Trunks is a Junior, as they'll be turning 16 and 17 in their respective school year.

So I can get all my ducks in a neat little row with a very constrained pick of April 766 and July 767 for birthdays. I think?

WHEEZE

#goten #trunks #dbz #someone must have this knowledge in their heads #i also hc that Saiyan pregnancies grow fast last minute too so chichi can stay slim for Cell Games #I know some people use Goten as a premie instead

[barry-j-blupjeans]

Day 7 - Aftermath

It was weird, still being in the world after it almost ended. They had spent a long, long time wondering what a plane would look like post-Hunger, but Lup figured that this was probably the best outcome they could hope for.

The sense of rebuilding and community here on Faerûn wasn’t completely new— there had been several worlds that actually heeded their warning and prepared for the fight. But seeing it afterward? Seeing that strength and love persist even though the Hunger had tried to destroy it? It was truly beautiful.

And, honestly, made Lup feel a little bit shitty about not exactly feeling up to help.

It was— she was a mess. To put it in simple terms. Lup had spent an entire decade imagining what it would be like when she finally got out of the umbrastaff and now that she was out she couldn’t bring herself to go through with a lot of her plans. Sure, she did most of the plans that involved hugging people, or fuckin’ talking to people, and all that. But otherwise, she just felt… shitty. And out of touch.

The crew had moved on without her, especially after Lucretia’s help. Honestly, Lup couldn’t bring herself to be mad about that. She could very easily where Luce had been coming from. Like, Taako and Barry would have kept searching for her no matter what. Hell, Barry had. And she loved him for that, she really did, but in all honesty? She was kinda glad Taako— and Barry, for the little pieces he got to— had the chance to live without her being missing hanging over his head.

But it also left her in this situation. The Hunger was gone, the world was saved, and Lup had no true connections with anyone besides the crew. And even then, they weren’t the same exact people she had left.

Merle had kids! He had been married! Magnus had married too, but it was a bit of a different story from what Lup knew. Taako found people who loved him, with his show, with Kravitz— at the very least, Barry had gotten the chance to know the world, if not many of the people in it. Lucretia had the entire Bureau and people she had met along the way. Davenport was the one closest to how she felt, but at the very least, people knew him, even if wasn’t who he really was.

Lup didn’t have anything. Aside from Cyrus, which didn’t go great for either of them. All she had was a weird, fleshy body and a family who had changed when she was gone.

“Lup?”

The door to the study opened. Barry peeked his head inside. The hallway light flooded through the small gap in the door. Lup had the lights in here down low, so the contrast made her squint a little.

“What’s up?”

“You okay?” Barry asked.

“Not really,” Lup said after a moment of hesitation.

Barry shuffled into the room, gently closing the door behind him. Lup leaned against one of her hands, turning a little so she could see Barry when he leaned up against the side of the desk. He held out a hand and she took it, squeezing softly.

“Can I do anything for you?” Barry asked.

Lup would literally never get tired of him. She got so, so lucky being stuck on a ship for a hundred years with this man.

“Mh.” She brought their hands up to her cheek, pressing against it. Barry smiled. She had missed him so fucking bad. “I’m just… thinking.”

“Well, there’s your problem,” Barry said.

“Stupid,” Lup said, but she was smiling anyway. “I— it’s just… Like, we thought about what it would be like after the Hunger for so long, but now that we’re here I’m— I just don’t know what to feel about it, y’know? It’s— it’s so much, sometimes.”

“I get that,” Barry said quietly. “It’s— it’s been hard.”

“So hard,” Lup said.

“Yeah,” Barry said. “And I— Lup, I can’t even imagine how hard it’s been for you, with the— the being trapped and everything. You’re doing so good, and I know it’s been rough. I just… it’s hard to think of what can make it feel better, y’know? Do you— is there anything you wanted to do? When you were in the umbrastaff, I mean. Like, we can make a bucket list-”

“Most of it was just wanting to hold you again,” Lup said. She cleared her throat, blinking away tears. Barry squeezed her hand again. “I— the world is just so different than how it was during— when I left. I can’t— I don’t know how to adjust to a world where I don’t know anything or anyone.”

“It’s hard,” Barry said. “We could, uhm. We could go on a road trip?”

“Go on a road trip,” Lup repeated.

“Yeah,” Barry said. “So, uh, so you get to know more of the— the lay of the land and all— and we can go places where I know someone or— or where Taako knows someone, and we can talk to them, and get you acquainted, at least—”

“I don’t wanna assume your friends wanna be my friends—”

“Babe,” Barry said. “Anyone who doesn’t wanna know you is full of horseshit anyway.”

“Yeah?” Lup said.

“Yeah!” Barry said. “Like- you’re Lup! Look at you! One, you’re hot as hell-”

“Barry—”

“Two, you’re super kickass? Like, I don’t know if you’ve been hearing the news-press, but—”

“Ugh, the news—”

“I know, right?” Barry said. “And three, you’re— Lup, you’re so genuinely kind and funny that I can’t imagine anyone wouldn’t be jazzed to meet you. You gotta— I know this is your line, but you gotta stop worrying so much about it. People love you. If you wanna go out and meet ‘em, then I’m gonna be right there with you, okay?”

Lup finally let go of his hand, if only to wipe her eyes. She was smiling, though.

“You think so?” she said.

“I know so,” Barry said. “Just… think about it, okay? Doesn’t have to be a road trip, we could just— take a vacation. Gods know we deserve it—”

“We do.”

“Just let me know,” Barry said. “And I’ll be there with you, okay? Now you gotta come eat before everything gets all cold and gross.”

“You’ve convinced me,” Lup said, pushing her chair back. “This bitch is ready for spaghetti.”

“You’re always ready for spaghetti.”

“It’s a character trait, babe, keep up.”

#blupjeansweek2023 #blupjeans #barry bluejeans #lup #taz #taz balance #mine #ise cube writing #habby last day of blups week :'3 #i hope everyone enjoyed these sdlkfsd

[krikeymate]

bro... I honestly wish I had a friend as passionate about scream as you are.

I agree to everything u said here about sam and tara and their sibling relationship, I was basically raised as an only child, I do have an older brother who's 25 years older than me and we never lived together I'm 18 and I've gone 8 years without seeing or talking to him at all. We never bonded and have really different point of views about literally everything and I tell everyone I hate him and yet if he pays literally 1% of attention to me I melt, when my mom talks shit about him it stresses me out even though I think the same...I think little siblings are just wired to look up at older siblings yk? And if me and my brother never interacted and I feel like this, I can only imagine how hard tara's heart beats for sam and vice-versa.

also I do believe that Sam sees mindy and chad as her little siblings and loves them so much too... she will protect them of everything, but there's no world where she would prioritize tara's life over the twins lives.

the tara and chad situation is a bit hard for me for the following reasons:

1. everyfuckingone that dates the twins died at this point lol (R.I.P Liv and Anika)

2. I also believe (in my pretty little brain) that their relashionship is platonic, I mean they love eachother I have no doubt about that but chad really is nothing but the safest option for tara, he's not a stranger, the possibilities of him being ghostface are minimum if none, he truly understands what she's been through and he's survived the two attempts against his life...what else could she ask for?

I'm really exited about whatever possibilities scream 7 will bring and hopeful that they will keep sisterhood as a focus.

I'm really sorry for rambling and I apologize for any grammar mistakes i might've made (English is my second langage 🇧🇷)

I truly love your work.

Kudos,

Melzis.

We're mutuals and we've interacted so that makes us friends, sorry no takebacks. I rarely get into things, so when I do, I REALLY get into them.

Damn, that's a helluva age gap! That sounds super tough to deal with. I think it makes sense though, family is still family and you want them to see you, even if you can't stand them. We all want to be seen and acknowledged, and loved. And family is supposed to do that for you.

Sam 100% sees the twins as family, especially after 6. She would do almost anything to protect them, heck even other people, but if she had to choose between Tara and someone else, she would always protect Tara. If she had to choose between herself and Tara, she would choose to save Tara. Tara is like her heart. I also believe that if it came down to it, between all four of them, they would all choose their own sibling over another.

Oh I so agree with that! There was actually more Chad/Tara thoughts that I did write that I cut out! So obviously I put the first part in the other post - in the bedroom scene she sees that Chad is interested, and she sees that he is a safer option than a stranger at a party. Then the next romantic moment isn't until Act 3, whereby... Chad kisses her. She's trying to say something and he initiates. The next moment is after the shrine, Tara kisses Chad. But the thing is... she thought he was dead. It felt like a moment of relief, a 'thank god you're not dead' reaction. Their relationship feels so much like a very platonic 'safe option' thing, at least from Tara's side.

Mate, you - and anyone else reading, hi! - come message me at any time. I love to hear people ramble about things they love.

#/mp #ask box #melziss #Scream #Sam Carpenter #Tara Carpenter #family dynamics tag #-tara/chad

[tintinntabuli]

Timberline’s Holiday Lighting Service Pays In More Ways Than One

‘Tis the season when landscaping work in some parts of the country can grind to a halt if there’s no snow plowing. But that’s not the case for Timberline Landscaping in Colorado Spring, CO. Owner Tim Emick bought into a Christmas lighting franchise called Christmas Decor in 2001, and the service has been gangbusters since the start.

“When we started offering holiday lights in 2001, it was an opportunity to fill the Winter time,” says Shawn Brewer, Timberline’s lighting manager. “Yeah, we do snow removal, but it doesn’t snow 24-7. So it was a good way to fill that gap and keep everyone busy. So that’s why they started the Christmas lighting part of the business.”

Franchise Support

Being part of the Christmas Decor franchise has given Timberline an advantage—especially for handling unexpected hiccups like the shipping and supply delays of 2020/21 that kept other lighting businesses from getting the equipment they needed. “We were still able to get stuff in. So it’s kind of a network system that we use, and they help us with all of our lights,” says Brewer.

He continues, “Also, we learned some techniques from them that I would have to say make us stand out. For example, the way we light our trees really sets us apart here at Timberline. We lay lights in the trees so they appear individually placed, versus that string going around like a candy cane.”

Individual Attention

Timberline also emphasizes customer service. Just one example is that they perform proactive checks and repairs for all their lighting installations. “After we get everything installed, I break down my spreadsheet into areas of the town, and I have individuals go check out each one of those jobs.” says Brewer. “They go to the job, check the timer, make sure everything’s good, turn everything on, make sure everything’s working, make sure the roofline is straight, make sure nothing is missing and there’s not something that maybe the homeowner hasn’t seen.”

He continues, “We get probably 20 comments a year from people asking, ‘What are you guys doing here?’ We say ‘Oh, we’re here to check your lights.’ And they go, ‘Oh, that’s awesome!’… So I think what puts us on the map are those proactive checks. And if there’s an issue, I try to get someone out there to fix it the day of.”

Building Reputation

Today, roughly 25% of Timberline’s lighting clients are residential, and 75% are commercial or apartments. “When it started it was more residential based, and then as our business developer [fostered] all these relationships, we realized how commercial could mean big business for holiday lighting,” says Brewer. “After all, if we put lights on your building or draw attention to your shopping center, more people want to come and see it. You get more people in the door, and you can use it to set yourself apart from the shopping center next door. So the commercial business grew from there to the point where now we even do whole commercial districts in a town.”

One example of this, which Brewer says is a fun job, is Manitou Springs, CO. It’s a little tourist town, just west of Colorado Springs, and Timberline does the entire town—from garlands on all the light poles to trees on all the crosswalks, as well as the big signature tree in the center of town. Timberline has become “known” for Manitou Spring’s Christmas lighting.

Building Relationships… And SEO!

Though Timberline has around 300 employees, it’s still run with the tenet of “building relationships” that Emick started with in 1986, says Brewer. This keeps the company feeling like a family, both in terms of employees and their long-time customers. This is especially evident right on Timberline’s web site, which appears  more like a community events board during the holidays due to its Christmas Lights Guide, an interactive map of the houses and businesses with lights displays. People are proud of their beautiful Christmas displays and they love to be added to the Timberline Guide, says Brewer. In his opinion, the guide is one of their best marketing tools all year round.

“It’s been amazing!” he comments. “People can add themselves to the guide, and we also add coffee shops and little places you can stop and get hot cocoa and stuff like that. I think this year we have 166 lighting displays in the guide. The amount of work that our team puts into it, and the amount of traffic that it creates for our website is so worth it,” says Brewer. “It creates enough traffic for us that it gets us through the whole year with Google in terms of SEO. So that is some great marketing!”

Check out Timberline’s Christmas Lights guide here!

For more on lighting services, read:

Year-Round Revenue For Landscapers? Here’s How

Get Equipped: Landscape Lighting

Read More

#landscaping landscaper

[dzpenumbra]

7/17/23

Today has been an interesting day, to say the least. I don't really have words for it, honestly.

I woke up after about 4-5 hours of sleep. It was raining. It's been raining all day, occasional thunderclaps to add a little spice to the monotony. I'm not sure what exactly woke me up, but what kept me awake was very gentle creaks coming from the ceiling floorboards, and my vivid imagination translating that into water leaking and dripping from the ceiling onto my bedroom floor. It was very convincing, very visceral. Maybe it was me still being in a dream-like state, so close to sleep. Maybe the elevated CBD/THC tincture dose added to the immersion of the illusion. Maybe it was because I didn't have my glasses on and my imagination was filling in the gaps. Maybe it was all three. But it once again had me on edge.

It's as though... I'm a constantly coiled spring ready at all times to respond to the next imminent crisis. It really does feel that way. Because... who else is going to? That's a big part of being alone that I find hard to communicate to people who pride themselves in their work and their efforts - let me rephrase that, those who define themselves by their work and their efforts. And thus... define themselves by their pride. Whether you call upon support, reinforcements, backup, a social net, whatever... or if you just have them present and pridefully turn them away at any possible turn as though perpetually trying to vainly prove some kind of point... either way, you have them. They are present. If you have a toolbox in your house, whether you choose to use a screwdriver or your fingernails to take a screw out... at least you have the option of a screwdriver, you know? Or even the claw end of a hammer, and you can improvise with that. You know? But if all you have is your bare hands? It's simply a different life.

Again, it's hard to convey this concept. But it is really the core of a lot of my struggles. And thus... it makes perfect clear sense that my reaction to this... which I have been yelling at the heavens like some dramatic Greek tragedy for several years now... is pleading for help from others. With literally anything. Especially with things that I'm not capable of doing, like... multitasking... or skills that I am yet to develop, in times when I am deeply overloaded and really don't feel I can afford to learn a completely new skill from scratch just to take care of a task that someone else near me already has an expertise in.

Because... in the end... what is the point of a community if each individual is obligated to learn how to do everything for themselves. I mean that, and this has been boggling my mind for a very long time now. "Hey, I'm not that great at marketing or advertising, do you think you could introduce me to a long-time friend of yours who is involved in that? See if they could lend me their skills which they spent much of their lives honing?" "Why don't you learn how to do it yourself. You need to learn how to be more independent."

Who. The fuck. Is independent? Truly. I'll tell you. I'll tell you who is truly independent. Someone who lives in a shack in Bumfuck, Alaska, who needs to take a bushplane to get to their house and doesn't interact with society for years at a time. They are independent. If they have a problem - a clogged pipe, a full septic tank, torn clothes, broken shingles, a fractured Tibia, a horrific nightmare - they must address the problem alone. For there is no one else. Because the toolbox simply doesn't exist, it's not an option. It's not that the toolbox is being stubbornly ignored as a way of trying to pressure someone else to "fix their problems for them"... it's that the toolbox does not exist.

For me? Taking the ceiling creaks, for example. I could've called my landlord about it. The maintenance guy would most likely have said there's nothing he can do about it, it's just old floorboards, they creak, it's what they do. And I would still be here, and I would feel a bit shameful for exposing that weakness to people. I really wish I didn't have that level of insecurity and pride. I mean that. I wish I could wear that on my sleeve comfortably, and I aspire to return to that.

I lost my train of thought. XD I just happened to use the only example where I do have options for support. And what really stops me from reaching out for more support? With more people? I have to rely on the charity of strangers. It's all insecurity and anxiety all the way down with that. And my rational mind makes sense of it by saying "well... statistically... your chances of success in getting quality assistance with these things from someone you have never met before... when you're cold-calling... it's typically near zero. So why try?"

Ugh, this is exhausting just thinking about. How did I even get here... sorta... explaining that this frantic screaming of "someone help me" is simply a shadow cast by the actual problem of "I don't have a supportive social network and everything in my life falls on my shoulders... no pressure". So... when I wake up... and I hear what I think is water dripping? Who is taking care of that? Who will get the container to contain my upstairs neighbors' clumsy spill. Who will make sure the spill didn't reach any electronics and address that problem if it exists? Who will soak the spill out of the carpet? Who will have the expenses taken out of their security deposit if damage is done? It all falls on my shoulders. So... how could I possibly sleep? In that moment, I am on-call. And my body responds to the on-call notification by pumping adrenaline into my system, so I am alert and have energy and have enough sensory focus to perform tasks. So when do I sleep?!?!

I'm always on-call. 1:30AM - on-call. 3PM - on-call. 6AM - on-call. You name it. 24/7. Morning, noon and night. Even holidays. And I guess that's where the franticness of my pleas for support has sourced - how desperately I've just needed someone to watch the fort while I rest.

This is the paradox that I noticed when I was put on pharmaceutical medications to aid in sleep, specifically the hypnotic Seroquel. I didn't know at the time, but most of my difficulty sleeping is a byproduct of not feeling safe or protected - a very common PTSD thing, and anxiety thing, honestly. So... at a very primal level, the brain stays primed to wake up at anything. The analogy I like to use that I hope is relatable to some is... if you were tasked to spend the night in a spooky old house... alone. Every single noise you hear in that house that night, it will pull you from sleep with a fucking jolt. That is... most nights for me. In my own home. Unless I'm in a particularly good place mentally, feeling very supported, feeling a lot of physical security, feeling like people have my back and shit. Otherwise... I'm like a hair-trigger mousetrap of crisis-response.

The paradox that Seroquel introduced was... I would still wake up. I would just be incredibly groggy and incoherent when I woke up. Which instilled way more anxiety. Because now... my problem has not been solved. At all. Instead, I still have to address perceived crises, and I have been given a massive debuff. I don't have my senses about me, I'm sloppy, I'm disoriented. And that makes me more scared. And then I'd start the day the next day, and still feel incredibly groggy and hungover from sleep deprivation and these meds... so much that I genuinely felt drunk and did not feel safe driving my car. So... it started limiting my ability to be present in the world. I stopped driving to pick up iced coffee in the morning, a tradition from a more economically stable past. I stopped going for morning hikes. It greatly immobilized me. I just... I lacked the language and articulation to be able to communicate the handicap that had been thrown on my life, and I really got sucked into this delusion that somehow I was to blame. I wasn't taking the medication properly, I wasn't going to bed on time, I wasn't exercising enough, etc. etc. Somehow, I was to blame.

So... in reflecting on this whole problem now? I still don't fully know how to manage it. Because it puts two survival needs in direct opposition - physical safety and sleep. And one of them has to go. In order to convince myself that I'm physically safe, I must sacrifice sleep. In order to sleep, I must disregard physical safety. And there is really no way to verify if those physical safety threats are valid or false-alarms until after sleep has been sacrificed. So yeah...

An interesting thought popped into my head while I was typing this. My Xbox died today. I don't know how, though I suspect it's because of the moisture from having it right by an open window when I live right next to a river. I don't know. The Xbox was a gift from a former friend who I met through a Minecraft server. We spent a lot of time together, played a lot of games together. I chilled with him online when he met his girlfriend, when she got pregnant, when they had their first kid, when they got engaged, when they had their second kid... I met and played Minecraft with his eccentric ex-biker Dad. He invited me to be the best man at his wedding, having never met in person before, and I gladly accepted and flew halfway across the country on my own dime to be there. He gifted me this Xbox one year, the year the original Fortnite came out so... 2017? Damn, I guess it's had a good run. He worked in the electronics department at Walmart and decided to give me a discount on it, I'm really not sure why... we were both PC gamers... but I accepted the gift.

I've been using the Xbox simply... to play my yoga videos in the morning. That's been the extent of its usage recently. I used to watch Twitch streams on it sometimes, but... not so much lately. And today, I started it up as usual, and it did that "boodaloop" startup sound, then clicked... and then went silent. And it kept doing that every time. So... I'm guessing it's a hardware problem. I'm guessing that's done.

Now... I woke up this morning freaking out about moisture making its way into my apartment and causing problems with electronics. And my day officially starts with yoga... so my day started... with a failed piece of electronics, most likely due to excessive moisture.

Why am I telling this? Beyond the synchronicity? Because when the Xbox died (I assume)... I didn't really care that much. I was frustrated at first, and a bit sad. I blamed myself a bit, but let that go pretty quickly. I looked up some answers on my phone, and moved on from that pretty quickly. I just sorta... resigned to it. And thanked it for its service. And tried to figure out how to do AirPlay from my phone to my TV having never done that before, praying I wasn't syncing to one of my neighbors' TVs on accident. And I succeeded. And that was that. No freak-out, no panic, no "oh shit my life is ruined". Just... aw man... and adaptation. And that was that.

So... why is my brain stem treating little creaks from the ceiling... transformed into the illusion of water dripping from the ceiling... transformed into the illusion of water dripping onto electronics... why is my primal brain treating that as a critical "you must be awake for this now" emergency? Because I can prevent it. I can be the hero who averts this tragedy. With a little willpower, and a little sacrifice, I can avert disaster. All I need is a nice big dose of adrenaline to get my wits about me and I'm up to the task. "Whoops, false-alarm! Good luck getting back to sleep now!"

Still, weird shit that I woke up with that specific fear on the same day that 5-6 hours later I found my Xbox had shit the bed. And I know it died yesterday because I've been using the Xbox every day, it was part of my daily routine. I'm sure it was a hybrid combination of memories of the day when my upstairs neighbors spilled water and it just dumped right through the floorboards like through slats on a boardwalk or something... that combined with the fear of water getting in the open downstairs window from the storms - which somehow it just... doesn't.

I tried to be more disciplined with my sleep hygiene today though. Once I had identified that I was responding to fear with the whole water dripping illusion thing... I immediately got my headphones and put on a binaural beats sleep thing. I laid there for 58 minutes trying and failing to fall back asleep... so I didn't do great with the whole "if you're not asleep within 15-20 minutes, get up and do something for a while and come back" thing. But I did get up. I did a run in Hades, which wasn't the most relaxing thing in the world... XD But got my mind off fear and stress. I ate some trail mix, in case my body was running on fumes. Then I went back to bed and... instead of the music stuff... put on a livestream VoD from a streamer I've been watching for nearly 8 years now, whose streams I've been consistently putting on during sleep for several years now. His immersion in the story, his calm demeanor and his ability to elaborately express his in-game experience always bring me to a very serene place of calm. And he's been a huge inspiration for me. I haven't been listening to sleep music or his VoDs when I go to sleep since I started using my box fan. I fell asleep pretty quickly and caught up on sleep pretty well.

Yoga was silly, and humbling. The yoga teacher was being very goofy and fun in the video, and I appreciated the levity. I needed more of that. And we did this thing where you go from Cobbler's pose and then lift your legs up with your feet still touching and knees still out, but you bring your chest up forward so you're like... perched on your ass-bones. And I just kept flopping around like a toddler trying to walk. It was so humbling. I started laughing. I clearly don't move this way very often! I noticed myself getting a little upset, getting frustrated with myself. "Why can't I do this? What am I doing wrong? I've been doing yoga every day for like 7+ months, what am I missing?!" And I was able to let it go. And just relax. And try again. And try to feel what the pose feels like.

That is such an important thing. In all things. But I always translate it to skateboarding because it translates so well. In fact, I think it was a Rodney Mullen story that I sorta quote here. He talked about his process of learning new tricks where he goes and tries it... and obviously it doesn't work... and then he takes little mental notes... "ah, my foot went here, and my hips were like this... hmm... what if I shifted my weight this way..." And then went back to the run-up and... cleared his mind entirely. Forget all of it. Empty the cache and just go and do it. And repeat the process. Until you feel it. Until it connects. And I say this more from my experience with snowskating than skateboarding (though there are some skateboarding tricks I have this with)... when you have a trick locked down, you don't think about it. You just go... "shove it" and you mimic what a shove it feels like... and you do it.

So that's been my struggle in practicing yoga alone. Not knowing exactly where I'm supposed to be feeling the pose, what it's supposed to feel like... what muscles and joints are activating in which ways, where I will feel it, where to carry my weight. And it's less about doing it "right", and more about... doing what the pose is intended to do. Like... if you've ever seen anyone using a piece of exercise equipment incorrectly. Round of applause for creativity, of course... but you end up missing the point. And that's sorta the whole point of having a yoga teacher... to help you connect the shape to the feeling, so you know what to feel. Like... forward folds for me really stand out. I realized that for months, I was forward folding from my lower back, not my hips. I could barely reach my ankles. I was so frustrated because it was not relaxing it just wasn't working. And then one video had me go from a squat into a forward fold, sorta... going into a forward fold in reverse rather than coming from Mountain pose like I always did... and I raised my hips and still couldn't get my legs straight (of course, I still can't but whatever)... but I realized it felt... very different. I could feel my stomach on my thighs. My hips felt different, like different tendons were activating or something. My weight was being carried in a different location, a bit farther forward. And my hands were on the floor. And I just went... "oh! Oh, okay, so this is what bending farther forward in my hips feels like." All I needed was to feel it... then I was able to replicate it. And I use that hip sensation as a guidepost a lot now.

So... it was nice today to feel childlike. So many adults get so fucking averse to feeling childlike, as though it makes us appear incompetent and weak or something. A weird analogy I had come to me earlier today - as though their inner child were merely a cicada husk shed and clung somewhere deep in their psyche. I miss it so dearly. Every time I feel it, I wonder why I ever left. I want to go running out in the rain with my shirt off, barefoot, and jump in puddles with zero cares what the neighbors think. I want to roll around in the grass. I want to lay in the dirt and study bugs and see what they're up to. I want to point in awe and wonder at a gorgeous sunset, beaming from ear-to-ear simply because of how lucky I am to be able to experience something so beautiful.

Note how all of those things are... outside... in nature... XD Soon...

I'm gonna go a bit mas rapido here because I've been meandering. As I do... I'm a wanderer... I left the beads alone today, except for three. The painted ones... and one of the blue ones. I wanted to test my walnut oil/beeswax finish in combination with the tung oil. The tung oil added a deep richness and a protective layer saturated into the wood fibers. The wax should provide a nice coating which, once hardened, I hopefully should be able to buff to a nice shine. A compromise between the satin tung oil finish and a glass-like acrylic finish... and still continuing the trend of using only organic materials. The painted beads... I'm going to call a failure. I think the oil and the paint did not get along, and that's okay. They were intended to be test runs, much was learned from this. Even after all the coats of oil, the paint just stripped off. Even with the wax on top, the paint stripped off. So... I'm guessing the problem was that the opaque layer of paint prevented the oil from penetrating the wood, and maybe even broke down the paint a bit... and the wax would just... pile on top of this... and when I went to buff, it just pulled off the paint from the very bottom layer, which was only very delicately adhered to the wood surface. Maybe tung oil first... then paint, then wax? Or maybe the painted beads will require a more versatile sealer, like shellac or something. I'll have to explore this more. But my third bead was one of the blue ones, they've been sitting and letting the tung oil harden for a few days now. I gave it some wax and let it sit for a bit, then buffed it. It made... a bit of a difference, but nothing huge. Nothing dramatic when compared to the others. We'll see what time has in store for that.

The rest of my day was listening to (and finishing) The Way of the Peaceful Warrior, which was lovely. A very powerful story, very resonant. I don't even really know what to say about it. It lines up with a lot of my life and it has been very thought provoking, and it's been helping me align with what I need right now.

The insight I got was... fear. Fear is my problem. And always has been. I'll get into that and close with my art, so we can end on a lighter note. Fear has such a strangle-hold on me. Fear of upsetting people who have power over me. Fear of scaring "normal" people with my odd and clearly out-of-place behaviors, which have consistently through history been considered an illness or acts of defiance that need to be corrected or punished. Fear of not being able to truly be my authentic self without... imposed consequences. That's one of the first major insights I got, my freshman year of college... "when they find out who/what I am... they're going to <do some bad thing to me>" Satanic Panic feelings. Witch Trial feelings. Holocaust feelings. Persecution. For simply being different. That fear has disrupted and laid ruin to my life since I was 17. And I have been a slave to it.

Now, that fear can infect so deep that it can make convincing arguments that holding eye contact with someone in the hallway too long might lead to something bad happening. That fear is so fucking lazy now that it doesn't even come up with elaborate fantasy punishments like Jesus being brought to Golgotha. It just goes "don't do anything that others might consider odd or else blah blah you know the drill." Ugh, it's so tiring to keep living like this.

And I remember lamenting the days when I would deliberately make an ass out of myself! I grew up with Jackass and CKY! My friends and I in high school were in the video program and we would make stupid home movies of us goofing off and setting RC cars on fire and racing them and pulling stupid pranks on each other and shit. Now? Walking to the pharmacy feels risky. Like I might come across someone who's already on edge, and my body language will be "wrong" or I'll accidentally make eye contact or something... and they'll just fucking snap on me.

So... after learning very clearly that there is no controlling others... and not even wanting to... I adapted into this belief that... if I act perfectly, innocently, friendly, eloquently, all of that... then they will have no reason to hurt me. And I will be safe. That's not controlling them, right? Right? Well... actually...

And that's something I need to talk to my therapist about. I need to be able to just... be myself... knowing that those situations are just part of life and they aren't something I can influence or control. Because that's the free will of another person. And that's just life. I don't think I can influence the decisions of a tiger, I just... show it respect, and act authentically non-threatening, and rely on its mercy. But people... people just... don't play by the same rules as animals. We often make up our own. And you can do everything right... and still suffer someone's wrath and violence.

So... what can you do? Just... resign to it? If someone mugs you, do you just give them your wallet? Do you try to run? Do you try to disarm and incapacitate them? I genuinely don't know. I don't have a plan. I just very often feel at the mercy of others, in a situation I simply want no part of. And yet, the entire situation is a hypothetical that has been concocted in my panicked imagination.

Fear. And my way of trying to confront this demon? Since 4 years ago? Go to the source. Weed. Weed unlocked my deepest fears and let me live them, viscerally, in dream-like highs. And it was able to do this pretty reliably. And I avoided the fucking plant for over 10 years because of it. It scared the living Christ out of me. It was not enjoyable, it wasn't worth the "risk". The freakouts, the panic attacks, the visceral experiences of living emotional nightmares. Every one carried a message, every one had a clear lesson contained for me to learn from. That's what these substances were fucking used for. And I've wanted for so long to just... have someone with me to help me work through them. To be emotionally and psychologically vulnerable with someone trusted, in that state. Because... my loss of my trust for others was born in moments of vulnerability while in that state. It's coming full circle. And someday I will, someday I will be able to get high and freak out with someone, and have it go well. Have it not result in someone else having their own panic attack that I have gone "schizophrenic", or someone taking personal offense at the imposition of "having to" support me in that moment, or even someone fueling my fears and validating them.

It may not be the only answer, but as far as the poetry of life goes... it makes the most sense to me. My fear was ignited in that cave. Every time I try to be brave enough to go back in, I get burned and cast out and grow even more scared of it. And others look at me like I'm foolish for wanting time and time again to go back in. To get stronger, wiser, more resilient, have more tools, etc. And go back. To continue to face off against the dragon, and be defeated, and get back up and do it again.

And more and more... I think the answer here for most of my problems... is meditation. My ability to just... let go. And be okay letting go. Especially when it feels important. Like this morning, when I was laying there trying to fall back asleep, and had a lot of these realizations... and went "I should write this down, this is very important and I really need to talk to my therapist about this in a few days, I want to make sure I remember." That importance compulsion is fucking tremendous. It feels like artistic inspiration, so much that I often feel compelled to combine the two. This journal has been the best compromise I've found so far. The majority of my adult life has been dedicated to me training myself to capture moments of profound importance, moments of intense feeling, like "oh, this is big." Because that's where art, poetry, and music are often born for me. And I often feel like it's my "job" to constantly be ready to capture that lightning in a bottle.

And yet... meditation teaches the exact opposite of that. It teaches that whatever is coming up - thoughts, emotions, anything - acknowledge it... and let it go. Make eye contact, nod your head, and let it blow away in the wind, and return to your focus. Your breath, your focal point, your drishti. And come back to stillness.

You see? For years, I have been practicing the skill of timelining a dream memory within a split second of waking up... and chronicling the dream as hastily and in as much detail as possible before the memory fades. Practicing stream of consciousness writing, in which I let the stream of thoughts flow as unimpeded as humanly possible, and training my fingers to type as quickly as I can in order to keep up with the speed of my thoughts. It's been laborious, and I've gotten quite skilled at it. They are so staunchly the opposite of meditation! They are not accepting thoughts and letting go, they are accepting thoughts and saying "go on, tell me everything you have to say". This has been tremendously valuable in my ability to unravel connections in my subconscious, roots of many behaviors, my own self-narrative. But they do not help in... letting go. And finding stillness.

I end up compelled to work - either on art, or mental heath, or finding my place in the universe - perpetually. Reflexively. Because of how regular and vigorous my training has been. I do this literally every night. So... the simple idea of "I can just let this thought go" often feels... wasteful... because I know very well how valuable and meaningful every thought and feeling is. And I truly believe that. That they all have meaning, you just don't understand it yet.

I remember saying this last year to my therapist. That I don't like letting go of the thoughts, because it feels wasteful. It feels like right now is a golden opportunity to learn something new about yourself, about life. And your mind presents that opportunity to you, insight on a golden platter. Who am I to refuse? Well... here's why it's okay to refuse... because it's 8AM... and you only got 4 hours of sleep... XD

And this little mini-mantra has been helping me a bit, because... I feel like this has become a bit of an obsessive compulsion... The new mantra is "if it's really important, I'll remember." "If it's really important, it'll come back." And that has helped reveal that the big underlying fear there that's driving it is... this fear of having found The Answer, the big one that's gonna change everything... and just... letting it go. Attachment. And that's a big part of my battle, and my suffering. And it's a big part of the work I have to do.

So... meditation needs to be integrated into my regular practices, and I'm planning to do so. I have the books pulled and everything.

And, on a less intense note... I started on the skateboard grip tape. I've been taking progress pictures every time I add a new layer radiating out. Probably too many to make an album of at this point, but whatever. I didn't want to film the progress because I really wanted to work on the floor. I miss just sitting on the floor and painting, there's something very special about it. This has become a blooming mandala that is alternating rounded pedals, then pointed leaves radiating out from the gaps between the pedals... then repeating. I've just painted a base coat of white on them for now, but I plan on adding some color. I'm not entirely sure what, but I found a gold paint that is calling me. And I might do a rich burgundy kinda color with that, or like a deep purpley-reddish-brown like a wine kinda color. I don't know. I'll feel it out. It's been a long time since I've done a mandala with color.

I have to pee. --- So... yeah, big progress made on the board. I put a few hours into that, at least 3-4. And again, all I had to do was just... fucking let go. Just let go and start painting and let the piece make itself. And it's making itself. And I regret absolutely nothing. I regret not a single damn thing with this piece. It is exactly what it's supposed to be. And if it wants a gold center, it'll get a gold center. And if it wants red leaves, it'll get red leaves.

I want to carry this feeling, this approach, this momentum... into the next few pieces. The clothing pieces. The hybrid board grip. The idea of just... slapping on some paint and letting it form itself. It's really scary to do that with a permanent medium that isn't layer-able... like ink... And I will continue to work with that in the near future. For now, this is working quite well. I feel very at home - a place that at the same time feels nostalgic and... right where I should be.

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of thoughts #stream of consciousness

[blazenka]

Mirroring Identities

Connor Temple believed he was close to returning to his own timeline and home. Instead he finds himself in a world that should not exist while he struggles with non-existent memories. Can he ever remember his identity? Pre/post Alice. Post Primeval S3.

Original source: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6106179/1/Mirroring-Identities

Chapters: 13

Published: 2010-07-03 - 2010-09-06  

Words: 19945

Rated: Fiction T - Language: English - Genre: Romance/Drama - Characters: Abby M., Hatter - Reviews: 86 - Favs: 13 - Follows: 15

Exported with the assistance of FicHub.net

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

a

b

Chapter 10:

David was sitting on the couch in Abby's flat with his hand in his lap as he waited for tea. He was glad she suggested the beverage after the awkward… romantic… weird moment they just shared.

Despite all of the feelings, David was ashamed of himself. He was engaged, could possibly be married and here he had kissed some girl he barely knew himself. This is not how David acted, yet he had no idea if that is how Connor acted. At that moment he was going to blame him for everything wrong at this point. Even if David had been Connor once in the past, David was convinced it was Connor's fault.

Abby sat quietly beside him again as she held out the tea cup. David muttered a 'thank you' before taking a sip. "Mmmm, Earl Grey," he smiled at her. "It was Connor's favorite so lucky guess," she admitted. "Well, you guessed right, love," he grinned as he continued to drink.

"What are we going to do?" Abby asked, desperate to know. "Don't know what you mean…" David stated as he avoided her gaze. "About this… about us and… David! Look at me!" she demanded and smiled when David gave her his attention.

"Listen, I never told Connor this but I do care a lot about him and I believe I care a lot about you. Connor and I have seen a lot together and have lived together and… I… ," Abby stated to David as she let her eyes drift to the floor in front of them.

A cocky snort was probably the last reaction Abby had expected, "Care for me? Whenever I asked about "us", you would blow me off. Whenever I got close and gave you my heart, you would just toss it aside. Remember that, dear Abby?" David lectured with following sharp hand gestures that made Abby grimaced. "So you do remember," she confirmed rather than ask.

"Yea, Abby, I do. I remember it taking 3 years for you to kiss me and that was a 'thank you' for helping your little brother. And even though you never ever mentioned liking me, you were horrible jealous of Caroline!" he accused.

Abby stared at him with a gapping mouth as she tried to think of a response. "I… ah, I was never jealous of Caroline… I was suspicious. And I was right to be!" she countered as she jumped off the couch. Sid and Nancy quickly ducked away as they sensed the oncoming storm.

David leaned back as he crossed his arms with a skeptical look, "Alright Abigail," he smirked using her full name knowing full well she hated that, "How do you exactly feel about Connor… about me?" he demanded. "Ah… well, I miss him… a lot," she confessed. "Really? Wouldn't that make things  weird, love?" he countered as he stood up right in front of her.

Abby took a step back before she said, "We were flat mates, and it would be awkward if we began a relationship. What if it ruined our friendship?" she questioned him. "Friendship? If you were so bloody worried about our precious 'friendship' status then why kiss me in the first place? Why continue to let me live with you?" he continued demanded as his anger rose. "I Don't Know!" Abby finally shouted before she slumped back onto the couch into tears.

David, probably Connor too, could never stand a woman crying and especially if the reason was because of him. David sat quietly beside her on a couch. Yet when his soothing words failed to reach her he urged her into his lap for a comforting hug.

While he rubbed her back he asked, "Did I ever tell you how I felt when the mer creatures took you?" Abby simply shook her head as it was buried into his chest. "I was devastated completely. Lester demanded I'd be sent home and Stephen was appointed temporary team leader because Cutter did not want to give up searching for you and the boy," he began and Abby looked up at him with interest.

David smiled down at her as he wiped the tears from her cheek. Then he continued, "When… we found you I was so relieved that I foolishly race towards you," he smirked as he shook his head. "I had this notion I would be able to save you and maybe even kiss you, but all I wanted to do was make sure you were alright," he paused as he considered his next words.

"Then that creature knocked me back and took you into the anomaly and I thought…" but Abby interrupted him. "I thought it had killed you when you did not spring right back up," she admitted, "I was so glad it was you coming for me that I wondered what I had ever saw in Stephen. I screamed so much when that creature dragged me into that anomaly. All I wanted to do was check you were okay and to make sure you would be alright even if I wasn't."

David smiled as he continued to run his fingers down her face and back. "Why are you hands so calloused now?" she asked with a laugh which got the response of David rolling his eyes, "Long story for another time, love," he remarked before continuing. "I rushed as quickly as I could in that anomaly, determined to bring you back home no matter what. I wanted to make sure you were okay no matter what too," he smiled at her and she returned it but then he frowned.

"Of course I found you hanging from a cliff seconds away from falling to your death and nearly had a heart attack. Yet I sucked it up and grabbed you while I was certain I would never let you go," David stated. Abby remembered the whole ordeal with grimace as she remembered what came next.

As if he could sense her thoughts he suggested, "Why don't we skip the whole part about us almost dying and Cutter having to save us, shall we?" Abby nodded in agreement. "However, I know you heard what I finally admitted to you," he dryly stated and Abby couldn't help but begin to feel anxious.

"Honestly, I had been debating trying to tell you how I felt almost right after I started dating Caroline. I even asked Stephen for advice. I'm not completely dense, Abbs. I know she wasn't completely honest or good for me but it was nice to be wanted, you know?" he explained to her and she could feel her old Connor coming back. "I just blurted out my feeling to you at that time and wasn't even sure how you would react but just felt like you should know," he admitted.

Abby nodded in understanding before admitting her own confession, "I shouldn't have played around and just reciprocated it. I just… didn't know if you meant it, Conn. How could I when you usually keep everything lock away behind that grin of yours?" Both sat in silence as they considered the other's confession.

Abby looked over David's face with a sudden sensation of wanting to kiss him again. She had been convinced that her Connor was back right until she leaned up only to be lifted off of his lap and back unto the couch. "It's stopped raining, yea," he stated the obvious. Abby hadn't originally noticed so turned to the window to see it had indeed stopped. "Yea… so…" she began but David cut her off, "I need to call Alice," he murmured as he searched his jacket for his cell.

"Oh right," she said almost with a laugh. Right when she thought her Connor was back in her arms and home he had to remember he had a fiancé. David let go of his phone with a heavy sigh, "Straight to voice mail," he informed her.

"I need to talk to her about all of this," he continued as he headed towards the door before he stopped to turn to her, "I'll bring her back so all three of us can have a proper talk, al'ite?" All Abby could do was smile and nod before he left right out of the front door.

Alice could not believe what Jack was saying. They had decided to wait in the hotel's café for David to hopefully come back but it had been a while. They waited at a table beside the window front as the place began to empty between the transitions from lunch to dinner. Jack had assured her that David was probably held up somewhere during the rain and he would be back as soon as it quit. Yet, that wasn't what he said that had unsettled her.

"You do realize I still care deeply about you, right Alice?" he stated as he drew his hand into hers. The nerve; Of course he was neglecting the hand with her engagement ring on it! "Jack, if you have failed to notice my ring or the fact I have told you how many times, I'll say it again. I am engaged to Hatter," she stated.

"I am quite aware of that, Alice. Yet, with all that has come to light today it might make you reconsider your relationship with the man," Jack countered. Alice sat there irritated silence when suddenly her phone started going off. She looked down to see it was David but Jack suddenly grasped her hand again, "Please don't answer it, Alice. I want to talk to you," he pleaded.

Alice relented as she tried to ignore the phone. "What do you want to talk about, Jack?" "Us," he responded. "There is no 'us', Jack. It ended when you lied and deceived me during our whole relationship," she said blankly. He then smugly countered, "So we've technically never really dated. Hello, my name is Jack Hart, and it's lovely to meet you, Alice," as he bent to kiss her hand.

Alice wanted nothing more than to slap his straight across the face at that moment. She pulled her hand away and was going to say some sort of comeback until she felt a strong presence from right behind her.

previous chapter

next chapter

#primeval #alice 2009 #itv primeval #bbc primeval #syfy alice #fanfiction #fanfiction.net #fanfic #archiving #queued

[azaleavi]

“All of the songs are about you”

Requested by anon: Hi, first of all I want to thank you for all your amazing work that you share with us, I absolutely adore everything that you write!!! Secondly, I was wondering if I could request something with Sebastian, where reader is a famous singer and younger than him, and when they reveal their relationship, people start saying that he is only using her and he gets worried that she will leave him for someone her age. Once again, thank you! 😚

Word count: 2k

Author's note: Thank you for your kind words dear nonnie! I hope you like it.

Warning(s): language

Feedback is always appreciated and don’t forget to reblog and like if you enjoyed it and want to see more. Thank you!

Masterlist

Both of you being famous wasn't easy with you being a singer and Sebastian being an actor. Especially when you wanted to keep your relationship a secret and you were quite younger than him. You have been dating for a while now and you couldn't be more in love with him. He was your muse for many of your songs, but the fans didn't know that. They did notice though that you started writing more love songs than before. You got questions about it almost every day, but you never answered them. They had their speculations, but you never confirmed any of it. It might be selfish, but you wanted to keep him all to yourself and both of you agreed to wait a little more before going public. He was promoting his new movie and you didn't want people to think that you announced your relationship only to give more publicity to it. But sometimes the universe doesn't care what you want.

It was a normal day, like any other, when you were at Sebastian's house and you started craving some McDonald's. The weather was nice for the time being past 10 pm so you decided to go out to buy it instead of ordering. It was dark already so you weren't afraid that anybody would see or recognize you. It was a five minute walk from his house and you thought it would be nice have a short walk. You waited for Sebastian to lock the front door then started walking down the street hand in hand. It probably wasn't the best idea, but you really didn't think that any paparazzi would be near you. You went into the fast food place to buy what you needed, then started walking back to his place, laughing at a story he was telling you. You loved these late night walks, the dark giving you a sense of comfort.

"Baby" he stopped walking as still giggled, making you stop as well. You turned to him, eyebrows raised in question, a smile still on your face. "I love you" he blurted out, intently looking at you, waiting for your reaction. He never said it before, despite dating for almost 6 months now. You didn't say it either yet, not wanting to make him uncomfortable or rush him. After his last relationship he wanted to be extra sure when saying the three words and you understood him. Your heart skipped a few beats at his confession, the smile widening on your lips.

"I love you too, Seb." you beamed, stepping closer to him and pulling him into a hug.

"Thank god." he mumbled into your hair, making you pull away.

"What do you mean 'thank god'? How could I not feel the same way about you? Haven't you heard the songs I wrote lately?" you asked jokingly in disbelief, but knowing he didn't mean it like that.

"You know what I mean" he blushed under the light of the streetlamp.

"I do" your arms going around his neck you pulled him down into a deep kiss. When you broke apart you walked back to his house to finally eat.

What you didn't realize was that there was a paparazzi following you, getting the perfect angle of your kiss, taking a series of photos.

The next morning you were woken up by your phone essentially exploding with calls and messages. You groaned as you reached for it, barely being able to touch it as Sebastian refused to let go of your waist.

"Why is your phone waking us up at the ass crack of dawn?" he groaned, rubbing his eyes.

"I don't know" you unlocked it to see at least 25 calls from your manager and another few from friends and family. Around the same amount of texts were sent as well, making you sit up in bed, confused. "Something is wrong." he sat up at your tone to look at your phone. You dialed your manager, putting it on speaker. She picked up right away.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she almost screamed into the device, making Sebastian look at you.

"I was sleeping. It's 7 am." you explained.

"Care to tell me why is you and Sebastian kissing plastered on every news site on the internet right now?" your whole world stopped at her words.

"What did you say?" Sebastian spoke up as you were still frozen in your spot.

"Oh your partner in crime is there too? Great. I don't have to say this twice." she was being sarcastic, but you didn't care. You just wanted an explanation.

"Tell us what is happening, please" you pleaded.

"There are multiple pictures of you going around. They are claiming that they took them last night." she explained, but that wasn't enough.

"What pictures?" you asked.

"Pictures of you holding hands and kissing." you ran your hand through your hair.

"Fuck" Sebastian sighed.

"That's an understatement." you heard shuffling on the other side. "So I recommend you guys figure out what you are going to do and do it real fast because it is getting out of hand."

"Yeah, sure we will do that." he took the phone from you. "Thanks."

"Just doing my work." she ended the call with a sigh. Sebastian looked at you as you stared at your legs, deep in thought.

"Hey" he brushed his hand up your back, shaking you out of your mind.

"Yeah?" you looked at him, startled.

"We need to do something." he explained.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. What should we do? Go public? I mean we don't really have any other choice." you furrowed your brows.

"Do you want that?" he wanted you to be hundred percent okay with whatever you were going to do.

"Yes, I just hoped it wouldn't happen like this." you sighed. "Do you want that?" you asked back.

"Yes. We already talked about going public so I guess we will have to do it now." he shrugged.

"How are we doing this then?" you stood up to get dressed, getting ready for the day.

"Posting a video on TikTok?" he grinned.

"Absolutely not. We are not posting on Tiktok." you shook your head, laughing.

"So where do you want it? Facebook?" he raised his eyebrows, joking.

"No." you laughed. "I was thinking about posting a pic on Instagram." you threw out the idea. Both of you used the app a lot so it would be the best choice.

"Okay, let's find a picture." he also stood up.

"Ah-ah" you held out your hand to stop him. "You talk to your manager while I pick out a picture to post on my account and you can post one on yours if you want to. Mine is going to be a surprise." you grinned, already having one in mind. It was your favorite picture of you, taken by a friend without your knowledge. You were in a parking lot at the beach, you sitting on the hood of his car while he was standing between your legs, kissing you. There was a second picture, where you were leaning your forehead against his, both of you laughing at your friends shouting at you to get a room. Both of your faces were clearly seen on them so you decided to post both of them.

'All of the songs are about you' the caption read. In seconds your notifications were blowing up with comments from fans. You didn't want to read them, because you knew how people on the internet could get and you knew that you being younger than him would bother some of them. Sebastian came out of the bedroom to sit next to you.

"You posted it?" he asked, taking out his phone.

"Yep" you smiled. You leaned your head against his shoulder as he opened the app, waiting for his reaction. He immediately searched up your name and tapped on the photo. His thumb froze on the little heart as he read the caption. He put the phone down and grabbed your chin to pull you to his soft lips in a kiss.

"I love you." he mumbled into your lips.

"I love you too." you giggled. He pulled away to pick up the phone to leave a comment. 'If I wrote songs mine would be about you too' you snorted at it. "You are cute"

-

A few days later you had enough courage to check the comments people were leaving online. Maybe it wasn't the best idea.

'Jesus. Isn't he like 12 years older than her?? Gross'

'He is definitely using her lmao but I can't blame him, get that coin king'

'Y'all think she calls him daddy in the bedroom kjsdnhs'

'She is just using him to write songs'

There were nice comments as well, calling you cute together and wishing you well. The mean comments always stuck with you more though and you didn't want Sebastian to read them. It was enough that you went through them. Both of you were a little insecure about your age gap, but you loved each other so you helped the other through the harder times.

You got to his house and walked in as he asked you to not to knock anymore. You found him sitting on his couch, phone in hand. Hoping that he wasn't doing what you thought he was doing you sat down next to him. He had instagram open.

"Seb" you sighed, taking the phone out of his hands.

"What? I just wanted to see what they were saying." he tried to defend himself.

"You shouldn't read these." you shook your head. "So you wanna watch a movie?" you changed the subject. He agreed with your suggestion.

The movie had been playing for a half an hour when he pulled away from your cuddling.

"What if they are right?" his voice was so quiet so almost didn't hear him. You paused the movie to look at him.

"What do you mean?" you asked, confused by his sudden outburst.

"The comments saying that you could do so much better than me" he kept looking at his feet. You sat up and grabbed his chin to turn his head towards you, your heart breaking at his words. This was exactly why you didn't want him to read them.

"Baby" you sighed. "They are not right. Not even by far. I could not find anyone better than you even if I tried. But I'm not trying because I have you with me and you are the best thing that happened to me in a long time. So get that thought out of your head." you stared into his eyes to get your point across.

"But don't you want someone your age?"

"No I don't." you shook your head. "I am perfectly happy with you and I don't need anyone else." you held his cheeks between your palms. "Plus I like it that you are older." you smirked making him chuckle lightly. Climbing onto his lap you pulled him closer. "I love it that you are more experienced." you pressed a soft kiss on his cheek. "I love it that you are taller." a kiss under his ear. "I love it that you are always so so sweet to everyone you meet." a kiss on his nose. Your right hand went into his hair as your lips kissed down to his neck. "And I love the way you make me feel when it's just the two of us." you whispered into his ear, your breath hitting his skin, making him let out a moan. He grabbed your waist in a strong grip. "I love how big your hands are." you nipped at his skin on his neck earning another noise of pleasure and his fingers digging into your skin. "But most importantly" you pulled away so you could look into his eyes to show your sincerity. "I love you. All of you. With everything I have." his eyes softened as he pulled you into a passionate kiss.

"I love you too."

Permanent taglist: @byatomoe

Sebastian Stan taglist: @wobblymug @sleutherclaw @toms-spiders @sarcastically-defensive17 @allforkook @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @mrsbarnesinmyimagination @bbl32 @wakandabiitch2

get added to my taglist

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan blurb #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan oneshot #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan fic #bucky barnes #sebastian stan x you

[boldlyvoid]

the guy at the rock show

she/they reader x Spencer Reid

request for @boba-king-iroh ♥︎

summary: Y/N lost their parents when they were 17, finding a new home and solace in Penelope Garcia and taking the Garcia name. They're the top forensic specialist in D.C, in a band and they drive a motorcycle... not to mention they are madly in love with the cute doctor who works with their sister.

warnings: fluff, mutual pining, getting together, love confessions, friends to lovers, idiots in love, PDA, secret relationships

word count: 5666

a/n: there will be a smutty part 2 eventually because I can't not do that

THE PLAYLIST THAT GOES WITH THEIR SETLIST IF YOU WANT TO LISTEN WHILE YOU READ

Read on Ao3 here!

Taking Garcia’s last name wasn’t something they had to think hard about, Penelope basically raised them; she was like a sister, a best friend and a mother, even a bit of a fairy godmother to Y/N.

They met when Y/N was 17, they were sitting at a support group for dead parents in D.C. Right beside the lovely, overly cheerful, always helpful, Penelope Garcia. At first, Y/N couldn’t stand her, wondering how a person like that could be running a group for mourning people, it made her sick.

It wasn’t until she heard Penelope’s story for the first time, knowing how similar it sounded to her own and how, actually, you can take your grief and turn it into something beautiful. After the meeting, they pulled Penelope aside and gave her a big hug and a thank you.

It was the start of a lovely friendship, one Y/N didn’t know they needed until they were smothered in all the love you could possibly imagine.

The age gap between them wasn’t too big, Penelope was 10 years older than them which meant she was always one step ahead of Y/N and full of advice. Be it fashion, boys, girls and everything in between. They bonded in a way that was unbreakable, they were each other's family.

Penelope even helped her get into med school before she eventually switched to forensic science. Taking on the FBI academy, unlike Penelope, and joining the bureau officially. Penelope was there for her every single step of the way, making her career possible. She loved her dearly and wanted Y/N to succeed more than anyone in the world.

Getting to introduce herself to people as Agent Y/N Garcia, not to be confused with technical analyst Garcia, was one of the best feelings in the world.

Not many people ever mistook them, however, for whatever Penelope was, Y/N was the exact opposite.

Y/N preferred all black everything, she didn’t enjoy partying or close contact or the in-your-face-ness of Penelope’s way of life, she loved her band and motorcycle and being alone. They were quote-unquote edgy, not just for effect, but because it was how they felt the most comfortable, it was who they were and they liked it that way.

They were possibly the best Forensic Specialist the FBI had, keeping her in DC for all the most important cases. Helping her avoid Penelope and the BAU team as much as possible. They were great people, she didn’t hate them at all, it was just a lot of energy that they didn’t have to give to 7 other people all day long.

Spencer was the only one she could tolerate. Rather, he was the one she wanted to spend the most time with, even more than Penelope. He understood Y/N in a way others didn’t.

He was also quiet, like them, he didn’t pick on them or call them mini Garcia, baby-baby girl, or infant as some of them started to call her more recently.

He called them Y/N, he talked to them about star trek whenever he was visiting Penny, and he respected their pronouns. Using both she and they interchangeably, when he spoke of them, unlike most people who only used she and her because it made more sense in their small brains.

However, she wasn’t the only one who got teased. Spencer did as well, almost more because he was around the BAU team constantly. She hated hearing them bully him, he didn’t even count it as bullying but it’s basically what it was sometimes.

They put him down, they didn’t clue him in on things, they called out his stims and didn’t let him finish his sentences, especially when it had to do with his hyper-fixations. He was the brightest light in the room and they just picked his brain till he wasn’t useful anymore, before trying to turn out the light. It made Y/N furious.

They got called Mr and misses genius when they were on a scene together, remembering the first time she ever had a case with the BAU which was also the first time she snapped at someone for being mean to Spencer.

Someone asked Spencer a serious question, to which he did his fucking job and answered. Giving as much detail as humanly possible, being the absolute genius he is and should be praised for, only to have Emily poke him in the cheek and say; “wow, he’s so life-like?”

“Well yeah, cause he’s a fucking human who deserves respect from the people who use his brain all day,” Y/N cursed under their breath from the crime scene, just loud enough for everyone to hear.

Leaving the sweetest man on earth to find them later and give them a hug. Thanking them for all that they do, and appreciating what he has to offer. That’s when she realized she liked him, more than just the guy who sometimes sleeps on her couch because he’s friends with her sister.

It was difficult being surrounded by men unlike Spencer, specifically the older men in her field who didn’t understand anything outside of money, guns, and violence. The worst part of the job being the politics in the background; the hierarchy and ass-kissing all because she worked in the nation's capital.

They were sure it was probably better in a smaller facility, a local police station where no one knew her and they could finally have some peace and quiet.

But she’d miss Penelope, and Spencer too for that matter.

At first, they’d hide in their room when Penelope brought him over for movie nights or when he crashed on the couch after bringing her home drunk from the bar. In the early days, she worried that he was going to be her new boyfriend, taking all of Penelope’s free time and leaving Y/N with nothing.

But then he started coming over all the time just to hang out, sitting on the couch with nothing to say, being the third wheel while Y/N and Penelope spent time together. For the last 7 years.

Over that time they had many conversations alone, she learned that he was really smart, he was a lot younger than most of the team because he blew through high school by the time he was 13, and he was genuinely the sweetest man in the whole entire world.

One time, Penelope was running late when Spencer showed up at the door with chips and candy, ready to watch his weekly movie with his friend. Only she wasn’t going to make it home in time, and Y/N didn’t want him to have to go back to his apartment all alone.

“You can come in and watch it with me if you wanted to?” She offered, smiling softly. “What was it you picked for tonight?”

“It was Penelope’s night to choose, so you can pick instead if you want?” Spencer offered right back, walking in like he owned the place.

He was more confident now than he was in the beginning, but that was probably because he was 23 and she was 18.

Back then he’d barely look at her and sometimes he’d shake when they made eye contact or when she got drunk and hugged him goodbye after a long night with Penelope. He was like that with Penny in the early days of their friendship too, apparently, so she didn’t feel too bad about it.

He warmed up eventually, making her wait 7 years for him to do something about the growing feelings they both shared.

“You like Marvel movies right?” She bit the inside of her lip as she waited for his answer. Watching him walk around the kitchen for a bowl that he could put his snacks in.

“Yeah they’re great, I haven’t watched past the second Thor, I think the next one is another Captain America?” he’s all smiles as he joins her on the couch, closer than normal, as close as he’d sit with Penelope, but then again she was a cuddler and Y/N wasn’t.

Sometimes Y/N would come out of her room to find Spencer’s head on Penelope’s lap, resting on a pillow as she ran her fingers through his hair to soothe his perfect mind after a long day. A few times she’s walked in on him crying or even sound asleep in her arms. They had a friendship Y/N admired, they were each other's person.

They comforted each other in the exact way they needed it; Penelope giving him the physical touch he craved and he would often compliment her. He was always telling her she was the best and buying her gifts to show his appreciation, calling her the most beautiful and smartest person he knew. He knew that she needed to hear it, needed the reassurance that she was still a good person and he made her believe it.

It made Y/N love him more seeing how much he cared for her sister.

“The winter soldier is the best!” She gushed, sitting close so they could share the chips as she waited for the movie to load up.

He was very quiet when he watched movies, smiling and laughing at the right parts but typically he paid so much attention it was like he was a statue. Y/N spent more time glancing at him than the actual movie.

“Is there something on my face?” Spencer asked, nervous when he noticed her glance at him for the 100th time that night.

“Oh, no you don’t,” she panicked lightly, swallowing quickly before looking away.

“What?”

“I don’t know, I just think you’re fascinating,” she whispered because then she didn’t really say it, and it didn’t really count.

“Oh,” he smiled softly, leaving it at that and forcing his attention back on the movie.

After a while, Spencer started to get even closer. He put the bowl on the coffee table and sat back almost on top of her, reaching an arm behind the couch so that Y/N was right against his side. He had done it with Penelope before, confident in this little living room, almost forgetting it was Y/N beside him.

Y/N rested her hand on his knee, rubbing her thumb over his jeans in a soft little circle as she pretended to watch the movie. More concerned with Spencer’s breathing and the feeling of his hand inching towards their shoulder than anything else.

Then they heard keys at the front door. Pulling away from each other quickly to curl up on opposite sides of the couch and pretend they weren’t just cuddling.

“Hey, you still came!” Penelope cheered, a little drunk from whatever she was doing before.

“I’d never miss a night with the Garcia’s,” Spencer smiled at her, looking calm and collected as ever while Y/N turned bright pink.

“Oh, I love Bucky! Oh my god let me go change and I’ll come watch too!”

That was just the first time they ended up cuddling, certainly not the last.

—

It wasn’t often that Penelope was too busy to spend time with Y/N, rather the contrary. Sometimes Y/N had to beg her to leave her be at certain events. Like when their band was playing at any of the local bars and Penny started inviting everyone she knew to come and watch her sister play.

It was embarrassing, to say the least, but Y/N loved her support.

When Y/N peaked her head out to see the crowd before a show, normally Penelope was sitting in the front with a drink and at least 4 friends, cheering and chanting their name, ready to rock out to their covers.

Tonight she didn’t see Penelope at all, she knew she wouldn’t, Penelope was in London visiting Emily with Derek for the second time in the past year, leaving no one to come to the monthly show Y/N’s band put on, or so she thought.

Spencer came all by himself.

He was sitting in the front, at a table with a bowl of pretzels and a ginger ale, not interested in the drinking or the socializing, just there to support Y/N. It made her feel giddy, like a schoolchild seeing their crush at recess.

It was so nice of him that it gave her butterflies, and normally that didn’t happen. They could go on and play a show in front of ten thousand people and feel nothing, but the second Spencer Reid was there to cheer them on, they were a mess.

“What song are we doing first again?” Y/N asked Evie, their lead singer and best friend outside of work.

“Who are they?”

Y/N was taken aback, “What?”

“You’ve never been nervous, who came to see you?” Evie clarified her question.

“No one, for fuck sake, I thought we left all the profilers at home tonight?” she sighed, shaking the nerves out of their body as they jumped up and down lightly.

They paced back and forth for a few minutes to wear down the nerves but only managing to make herself sweat to death and discard the leather jacket she always wore on stage. She walked in a circle aimlessly, remembering the setlist in their mind and how the spotlights typically made it so they couldn’t see the crowd anyway so it’s not like she could fuck up by making eye contact with him.

And it’s not like it was the first time he had seen her play, Spencer comes every month with Penelope, he liked a lot of the music they covered from when he was an emo teen in university. They’ve bonded over it before sharing albums and records back and forth, but she was still scared shitless at the prospect of him caring about her enough to come alone.

Especially when he hated being in situations like this in the first place.

It was their turn to go on, the manager of the bar gathering them and telling them to go on and so Y/N started walking towards the stage door, only to be pulled back harshly by Evie’s cold hands.

“Don’t forget your sticks, god who do you wanna fuck so bad it makes you this stupid?” She placed the drumsticks in Y/N’s hands, “get it together.”

“Sorry, it’s the guy in the sweater vest, front row,” they whispered in response, putting their head down and heading to the stage before she could tease them about it.

“The Forensic Lyricists are here once again folks!” The Manager introduced them to the crown, “get ready for them to dig up some classics!” Always the same dumb joke before every show.

Opening with crushcrushcrush by Paramore, thank god she remembered, it was an easy song to play as they warmed up and pushed the nerves away. They could play it in their sleep, with their eyes closed, and so that's what they did.

Eyes closed, mouthing the words as the adrenaline of the night took over the anxiety and made them go insane, like most nights. They didn’t need drinks or drugs to feel hyped at most shows, all she needed was a smile from penny and a good luck text from Spencer.

Playing by memory until she felt more confident and then getting into it. “They taped over your mouth, Scribbled out the truth with their lies, your little spies…”

“Crush, crush, crush, crush crush two, three, four!!” Y/N sung backup for each chorus, finally getting into it.

“Nothing compares to, a quiet evening alone! Just the one, two! of us who's counting on! That never happens, I guess I'm dreaming again.”

They tried their hardest to push the images of that night on the couch with Spencer out of their mind as they sang along, trying to harmonize and cover the backup for Evie as best as she could.

“Let’s be more than this now!”

She always took the bridge, as the drummer and the most passionate one, it only made sense. Y/N always got the crowd on their feet, roaring along as they jumped to the beat.

“Rock and roll, baby, Don't you know that we're all alone now? I need something to sing about. Rock and roll, hey! Don't you know, baby, we're all alone now? I need something to sing about! Rock and roll, hey! Don't you know, baby, we're all alone now? Give me something to sing about!”

“Nothing compares to, a quiet evening alone! Just the one, two! of us who's counting on! That never happens, I guess I'm dreaming again, let’s be more than, noOoo!”

She had a crush on Spencer fucking Reid and one now noticed as they tried their hardest to focus on the words when all that came to mind right now was his body heat and how good he smelled and how nice it was that he came to support them.

“Nothing compares to, a quiet evening alone! Just the one, two! of us who's counting on! That never happens, I guess I'm dreaming again, Let’s be more than this, more than thiiiiiis, oooooooh, mmmmmmhmmm,” she sang the ending of the song along with Evie, their harmony sounding more perfect than any performance before.

Critics always said the performance is better when you mean the words you’re singing. With that, they accepted their crush on Doctor Spencer Reid after 7 long years of knowing him. They pushed through nerves so that they could go and see him after and do something about it, now that Penelope wasn’t home to tease her for it.

Leading right into Dear Maria, Count Me In. Their bass player, Kat taking the lead for her favourite song. Being an all ‘girl’ punk band was her idea, and now they all enjoyed taking turns singing their favourite songs in front of mostly strangers, once a month.

Every single song made her think of Spencer in some way as she remembered the rest of the set, it had 5 songs in total and each one included at least one reference to something she knew about Spencer.

It was hard to not think about him while he stood at the edge of the stage with everyone and bopped his head along to the beat, a smile growing on his face as he also noticed the little references to them in the songs.

The Rock Show by Blink182 was going to hit a little too close to home as she sang the words all but to him, making eye contact with him as he moved to the best spot to see them play, much like Penelope would do every time.

She didn’t realize how much this song actually represented her life before tonight, starting to sing her song alone while Spencer watched. Deciding on the spot to dedicate it to him in the most fucking obvious way possible, taking her chances because he must have come for a reason.

“Hanging out behind the club on the weekends. Acting stupid, getting drunk with my best friends, I couldn't wait for the summer and the Warped Tour, I remember that it's the first time that I saw him there!”

Spencer was smiling then, noticing the lyric change as they made eye contact, nodding along as he watched. Genuinely enjoying himself and the show, it was lovely to see. She couldn’t help but smile against the mic as she sang and played. Wondering how his face will change with the next verse she watched him from the corner of her eye.

Her bandmates turning to see her as they played their guitars, nodding in agreement at the lyric change, they knew what she was up to. It wasn’t the first time they used the stage to bring someone home with them.

“He's getting kicked out of school cause he's failing. I’m kinda nervous, cause I’m sure all his friends hate me! He’s the one, he'll always be there, I took his hand and I’ll make it I swear,

“Because I fell in love with the guy at the rock show! He said what? and I told him that I didn't know. He's so cool, gonna sneak in through his window. Everything's better when he's around. Can’t wait until my parent goes out of town, I fell in love with the guy at the rock show!”

Spencer’s smile was priceless, it made them even more confident to sing all the words, wanting him with zero shame, it’s not like anyone who knew him would know about this.

“When we said we were gonna move to Vegas I remember the look your mother gave us 17 without a purpose or direction We don't owe anyone a fuckin’ explanation”

“Because I fell in love with the guy at the rock show! He said what? and I told him that I didn't know. He's so cool, gonna sneak in through his window. Everything's better when he's around. Can’t wait until my parent goes out of town, I fell in love with the guy at the rock show!” Making the softest eye contact with him, they moved their whole body to play to him.

“Black and white picture of him on my wall, I waited for his call, he always kept me waiting, and if I ever got another chance I'd still ask him to dance, because he kept me waiting!”

“I fell in love with the guy at the rock show! He said what? and I told him that I didn't know. He's so cool, gonna sneak in through his window. Everything's better when he's around. Can’t wait until my parent goes out of town,”

“I fell in love with the guy at the rock show!” She had never been this passionate while playing this song in all the years they had played it together.

Her bandmates taking the lead singing, “with the guy at the rock show!”

“I’ll never forget you,” she sang in the middle of their chants, “I’ll never forget you, I’ll never forget you, I’ll never forget tonight, I’ll never forget tonight…”

She shot a wink at him before turning back in her seat to face the drum set the best way. The last two songs were Evie’s and Kat’s, she covered the backup vocals, making the occasional glance towards Spence as she thought of him.

Counting down the minutes till she could go see him.

Come a little closer by cage the elephant, an obvious title with lyrics that would clearly bring every memory of brushed hands against lower backs as they slipped past each other in crowded rooms, lingering as long as possible before they were gone again. Goodnight hugs when Penelope was already asleep and he could hold her a big longer and tighter, resting his head on her shoulder while she rubbed his back and breathed him in. And that night on the couch, not to mention all the mornings she walked in on him sleeping peacefully, brushing the hair out of his face, softly, in the hopes he didn’t wake up.

“Come a little closer, then you'll see, Come on, come on, come on, Things aren't always what they seem to be… Do you understand the things you been seein' Come on, come on, come on! Do you understand the things that you've been dreaming… Come a little closer, then you'll see! Come a little closer, then you'll see!”

And even when he did she had a coffee ready for him when he sat up and smiled, giving them a few hours alone before Penelope would wake up. Talking all morning about star trek and dr. Who, smacking his knee as he made jokes that genuinely made them laugh while trying to keep her voice down so they didn’t wake Penelope.

Not many people made her feel like that in her life.

“Come a little closer, then you'll see! Come a little closer, then you'll see!” Staring at him, enticing him to do it the next time they had the chance.

The intro to I’d Do Anything by simple plan was one of her favourites to play, smiling wide as she began to drum as her best friends sang the words.

Waiting for the chorus to sing the words at Spencer, really sending the message, he wasn’t dumb, not in the slightest, he would get it. He had to, she had already been so obvious there was no turning back now.

“This could be the one last chance to make you understand,”

Her arms were starting to hurt as she played along with the most energy she has had in years, playing like a teenager whose parents just died and she needed to hit something, once again. It was freeing, playing with what she could only imagine was love in her chest instead of anger. It’s how she was supposed to play.

"I’d do anything Just to hold you in my arms To try to make you laugh Cuz somehow I can’t put you in the past I’d do anything Just to fall asleep with you Will you remember me? Cuz I know I won’t forget you,"

Focusing on the drumming and ignoring the lyrics as her bandmates covered the lyrics, letting her go hog fucking wild on the drum set, almost kicking the chair out from under herself as they kept going. Joining for the chorus again before beating the shit out of her drum set.

I close my eyes And all I see is you I close my eyes I try to sleep I can't forget you Na na na And I'd do anything for you Na na na Naaaaaaa

“I’d do anything!” She closed her eyes as she pushes the words past her vocal cords, again and again, passionately playing the drums as her hair flew all over the place, worried she might break the sticks as she played.

“Cause I know I won't forget yoooou!” She plays the end of the song, snapping the left drumstick in half before throwing the right one into the crowd, right into Spencer’s hand, sending him a wink before saying goodbye to the crowd.

Sweaty as hell from playing the drums, they brushed their long black hair back behind their ears and in a low ponytail so it would fit under her motorcycle helmet on the way home. Putting their leather jacket back on and heading into the main bar to find Spencer.

“Hey,” he smiled as she walked towards him, the drumstick now resting in his pocket as he approached her.

“I can’t believe you came here all by yourself?” Y/N laughed slightly before pulling him into a thank-you hug.

“I wouldn’t miss it, I’ve been coming for a year now, it’s always a great time,” his smile was perfect, his teeth were so white and straight and she wondered how they’d feel against her neck.

“It’s been that long?” She pretended that she didn’t notice, biting their lip as he ran the calculations in his mind.

He nodded with a soft, pressed-lipped smile, the Spencer classic. “Yep, it’s been exactly 14 months straight now.”

“I know you don’t like bars and loud noises and people you don’t know, or germs which makes this like a nightmare of yours I guess because of the close proximity of people and the germs being spread as everyone screams in a crowd,” she ranted before he was pulling her into another hug, “so this means a lot to me,” she finished her thought beside his ear for only him to hear.

“Anytime,” he whispered as he held her, his arm on her back and chin resting on her shoulder.

“Did you need a ride home?” She offered, thinking about how nice it would be for him to wrap his arms around their body as he sat behind her on Patsy, her motorcycle.

“Yeah, unless you wanted to go to your place and watch another movie? I wouldn’t want to keep you waiting,” he spoke just loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Yeah, I’d love that, it’s been lonely while Penny’s gone,” a smile erupting on her face as she got the reference, “come on then.”

She took his hand in hers, interlocking their fingers and dragging him backstage towards her locker. She had a space to keep her things for practice and other shows she did during the week, keeping an extra helmet and jacket in the locker for nights like this, however, normally it was a cute stranger. Not the man she’s been crushing on since she was a teenager.

“Oh, you brought Patsy,” Spencer’s face went white.

“Did you not want to ride her? Come on, everyone wants to ride her at least once,” Y/N teased him as she put the helmet in his free hand.

Her bandmates staring at her with proud smiles as she took the guy from the rock show home; the one in the sweater vest from the front, the one who was the most into the whole show, they both gave Y/N a wave and a smile as they slipped out the backstage door.

They walked out to the parking lot, still hand in hand with their helmets in the other. Stopping at her dark purple Suzuki GS650 GT, it was her most prized possession because it used to belong to her parents.

She put her hair in the right spot before putting the helmet on, sitting down and starting the engine, revving it for everyone in the lot to see as Spencer put his helmet on and threw a leg over the seat, nervous as ever.

He fit behind her perfectly, just enough room on the seat for his chest to press against her back as he placed his hands gingerly on her hips. It made her laugh.

“You’re going to want to hold on better than that pretty boy,” she teased him before revving the engine once more, kicking the kickstand up and speeding out of the parking lot.

Spencer gripped her tightly as she took off down the street, taking the longest route possible to her home. She didn’t hit a single red light for at least 5 blocks, zooming through traffic as Spencer squeezed the life out of her.

He felt amazing, his hands were so big as he fully wrapped around her, reaching around completely so his right hand was on her left hip and vice versa. He was so close she could feel his heartbeat against her back.

He was nervous, he flinched every time she turned and held on even tighter somehow.

So she did another lap of the block, around the park’s bend so she could lean the bike as far as possible as Spencer’s fingers dug into her hips fiercely. Breathing deep enough that she could hear him over the engine, but he wanted her to keep going. Not ready to let go of her yet, this is the closest they had ever been to each other.

When she finally pulled into the parking lot of their apartment complex, they bumped over the curb and his hand grazed Y/N’s boob, he pulled back so fast it was barely there, she just shook her head and laughed. Parking the bike and putting the kickstand back down.

Spencer let out a sigh, relaxing against her as he rested his chin on her shoulder again.

“Have fun?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” he laughed, his voice deep and dry from breathing with his mouth open, it was cute.

He got off first when his legs were finally able to work again, still vibrating from the rev of the engine he walked like Ariel when she got her legs. It was priceless, no one has reacted like that after getting a ride from them, not even Penelope.

She took her helmet off while still on the bike, shaking her hair out of the ponytail as provocatively as possible before getting off. Spencer’s jaw fell open once more as he watched, breathlessly, just as she expected.

Either he liked them before and never told them, or he was going to start now.

Either way, it excited Y/N to their core, taking his hand once more and leading him inside, this time they could be as close as they wanted to and no one was going to walk in on it. She stopped at her locked apartment door, looking at Spencer as softly as possible so he’d know her feelings were real.

“I know this will cause the teasing we already get to skyrocket, so if you wanted to keep it between us, I fully understand,” she whispered.

“Is that what you want?”

He was so sweet it made her heartache, never before had anyone made her feel like this; like she wasn’t in control of her body or mind, like an override in the system her brain and heart chose Spencer and there was no stopping them.

“I just told a whole bar of people that I’m in love with the guy at the rock show before taking you home in front of everyone,” she laughed, “I don’t care if people know, I just hate when they tease us, they belittle everything we do like we’re 17 forever, it’s not fun for me.”

“I hate it too,” he pressed his lips together awkwardly once more, “I’d like to keep you to myself for a while.”

She cupped his face in her hands and pulled in, pressing her lips against his as they both tried to repress their tightlipped smiles. Finally, finally kissing after all those years staring at each other's lips while they explained something, passionately as ever with the most attentive ears.

“Exactly, me too,” she smiled wider as she pulled back from him, unlocking the front door and pulling him inside for that movie he mentioned.

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 (dm me if you want me to remove you)

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine

[pale-silver-comb]

So I know absolutely nothing about Leverage except what I've been seeing you post lately and I have to admit you're making it look tempting to watch! Can I ask what are some of your favorite things about the show/reasons you would suggest people watch it? And is there really a poly relationship that is canon?

Okay. Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay. I am going to do my best not to just “asdfghkjl” at you and answer coherently.

In a nutshell, Leverage is about 5 people. 4 are criminals (Parker, Hardison, Eliot and Sophie) with different and unique skill-sets and 1 is an ex-insurance investigator (Nate) who, at one point or another in his career, has tracked down (or at least attempted to) the other 4. The whole show is essentially: man reluctantly reforms 4 criminals to use their criminal powers for good and 4 criminals move into man’s life and stubbornly refuse to leave because, goddammit, now they have morals. 

I’ve got a lot of favourite things about the show but the main ones are as follows:

1. Found family. And I’m not talking about loners who come together to fight crime and happen to co-exist to the point where they realise they happen to have found themselves a family. I mean, Nate and Sophie are the Drunk Uncle and Wine Aunt who somehow become Mom and Dad to 3 beautiful criminal children. Mom and Dad love their criminal babies and the kids love them (as well as each other, but we’ll come to that in a moment). You get amazing family moments such as: Mom and Dad packing the kids lunch before sending them out to kick corporate greed’s ass; Mom and Dad giving the kids ridiculously expensive and personal Christmas presents causing their most Grumpy Kid to go very very quiet and soft as he runs off to gleefully play with his new murder toy; the kids interrupting Mom and Dad’s big Movie Style Kiss to ask if they can please keep their new underground layer and huffing and puffing when Dad tells them no.

2. Found family: the OT3 edition. To answer your question, the OT3 is indeed canon, confirmed by the creator. Now, usually, “confirmed by the creator” infuriates me because most of the time it’s a way for a creator to be seen as “progressive” without doing anything to actually be progressive. That isn’t the case here. The OT3 are built up carefully and while it is obvious the creators didn’t originally intend for all 3 of them to become a relationship in the romantic sense, by mid-season 5 we are given a very clear picture of where Parker, Hardison and Eliot are heading in their relationship. There aren’t any kisses at the end to signal this but there are solid marriage vows in not only one but two episodes. (And by marriage vows I mean literal equivalents of marriage vows: “for better or worse” and “’til death do us part”. I’m not even exaggerating). The OT3 also doesn’t need explicit romantic narratives to convey how much they love each other. Their love is laced through the whole show, from the way they teach each other things to the way they respond to each other and work as a unit. The way they fiercely protect and admire each other. Like someone once said, if you need characters to kiss or say I love you to let the audience know they love each other, you are writing them wrong. 

Aside from that, each of the parings in the OT3 are just. Gah. They are so well done, with friendship being the solid basis for them all. The creators never expect the audience to assume anything about them or fill in the gaps. They give us their relationships on screen and reference many things off-screen to show us how these relationships continue to build in between episodes.

Hardison and Parker are a canon couple and date in the show: it’s approached slowly and they are so goddamned sweet. They are basically every fluffy slow-burn trope with a healthy dash of mutual pining in the mix. They are basically that quote “love is patient, love is kind”. (I would like to add their romance never becomes the focus of the show or overrides the importance of any other relationship they have with the other characters, especially Eliot.)

Hardison and Eliot are the Old Married Couple and from day one are already bickering and looking at each other/making comments that are found in every UST fic ever (not to mention Hardison has a very good knack for making Eliot grin like a little kid, when usually he’s basically an Angry Little Chef Man). They argue, they play, and love each other plain as day. 

Parker and Eliot are more subtle but every bit as wonderful. They have an unspoken connection and understand each other on a level no-one else can. Parker and Eliot are not good with giving themselves over to affection for different reasons (and Hardison plays a central role in helping them realise it’s okay to want it and have it- that boy has endless patience) but there is something so beautiful in the way the two of them come together on their own and develop their own special bond that works for them. Parker and Eliot are that trope where the characters don’t need to speak to understand each other perfectly. They just do. Their love language is a lot of the time non-verbal but speaks volumes. (Parker also likes to annoy the hell out of Eliot and Eliot....just.....lets...her. Because he’s soft. The softest, grumpiest boy.) 

I could go into so much depth for each pairing and their dynamics as a 3 but that's for another post.

3. Subverting stereotypes. There is the occasional hiccup in the show regarding stereotypes but ultimately, Leverage gets an A+ when it comes to writing characters and making them 3 dimensional people who are not defined by certain characteristics or events. Nate could so easily fall into the White Man Pain trope where he uses the trauma of losing his kid as a reason as to why he is entitled to act like a dick. Nate is a dick but he doesn’t use his pain to excuse it and I appreciate that. Hardison is a black man who is soft and nurturing. Easily the most empathetic and patient of the group. He’s nerdy, an actual genius, and has the biggest heart of all the characters. Nate is maybe the glue but Hardison is definitely the heart. Media’s usual aggressive, amongst other, racist stereotypes can fuck right off. Parker is canonically autistic (I am sure this was confirmed by one of the creators) and she is not defined by it. It’s not written as some kind of singular personality trait. It’s part of what makes up Parker but it’s only one facet of who she is and not once is her actions, thoughts or feelings treated like a joke. Sometimes people don’t understand why she does and says the things she does but it’s met with patience and fondness over the course of the show. Equally, it’s not met with over-caution. Parker is just Parker. No-one tries to change her. The other nice thing is Hardison, who always makes sure Parker knows she’s amazing because of who she is and not in spite of it. Finally, Sophie is in her 40s. She’s not treated like she’s past her prime. Ever. She’s sexy, smart and never is she pitted against or compared to Parker (who is younger) for anything. Sophie is amazing and there’s never even a conversation of “I may be older but I am still *insert adjective typically associated with younger women here*”. Sophie is possibly the first female character I’ve ever seen who isn’t just unapologetic about her age but has never had to apologise for her age. It’s a non-issue and that’s that. The women on the show are written so well, right down to secondary characters and it’s beyond refreshing.  

4.) It’s just fun. The show has a “monster of the week” type format. Except instead of a ghoul or a ghost, the monster is some corrupt wealthy and powerful individual or organisation. The show draws on real-life individuals to do this and therefore closely parallels real-life people and events. It addresses important political, economical, social and environmental issues while at the same time remaining fun and light-hearted. The characters constantly get the chance to play dress up and by GOD do they have fun with it. You get to watch Eliot beat up bad guys in the most delightful of ways, usually after a witty non-sequitur and with a weapon you’d never think could be a weapon. The dialogue and back and forth between the characters is everything. And finally - my favourite thing- the team can never resist striking a dramatic pose after they’ve taken down the bad guy, making sure the bad guy sees them. I mean, they COULD just walk away, satisfied they’ve taken the person down, but nope. They gotta be dramatic bitches 24/7 and pose like they are models for every single month of this year’s Criminal Calendar.  

5.) Competence Porn. So. Much. Competence Porn.  

Honestly, I could list a thousand reasons for why Leverage is amazing but to list them would to be spoiling so many amazing moments you’d get to discover for the first time on your own if you do choose to watch it. It’s the kind of show you can watch with an eagle-eye and sink your teeth into. But it’s also the kind of show if, you would prefer, put on in the background for something entertaining while you do something else. Each episode is about the job at hand but it’s made up of so many moments between the characters that show how much the creators and writers care about them. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll do whatever it is you do when something Soft and Wonderful happens that makes your heart melt. I am so beyond grateful for Leverage. It’s everything I always wanted in a show. Nearly every show I’ve watched in the past 10 years has disappointed me in some way, usually either because the writers run out of steam or characters who I love are treated poorly or given some kind of unnecessary “shock value” arc. Leverage doesn’t do that. Leverage is what it says on the bottle. Fandom isn’t something I joined because I needed canon fix-its. Fandom only enhances and celebrates an already excellent canon. 

#leverage #leverage ot3 #parker #alec hardison #eliot spencer #sophie devereaux #nate ford #talk leverage to me

[jennana501]

A Case for Rexsoka

I’ve been around the block when it comes to ships. I’ve seen people obsess over them, and I too have been driven mad by obsession. I was a hardcore original avatar fan and I was OBSESSED with shipping Toph and Sokka together. Any time they so much as made an interaction I over analyzed it and picked it apart looking for clues that somehow would prove that my hunches were correct. It was because I related with both characters, and I loved their chemistry. I wanted them to have a romantic relationship because it would feel like some sort of personal validation.

I’m an adult now and nothing has changed. But it has been a while since I’ve desperately shipped two characters together that are not obviously romantically involved with one another, or who could be romantic behind the scenes or beyond the story shown.

Until Rex and Ahsoka.

And I’ve seen people be adamantly against it. 

“No no no it’s just a brother/sister relationship.” 

“No it’s gross she is a child”.

And of course being disagreed with on the internet can drive a person crazy, and instead of individually arguing with dozens of people online, I’m making this post once and for all to explain why I think Rex and Ahsoka have romantic feelings for each other. Especially Rex.

The argument I’ve seen, that their deep passion, commitment, love, admiration, and respect for one another (which are all so obvious you’d have to be...silly to not see it) are felt in a platonic fashion. Which, for the first 6 seasons and 8 episodes, I would totally agree.

But then Ahsoka comes back. And let’s face it. She is a woman. Age wise, she’s around 17, but everything from the maturity of her Lekku (which weirdly don’t get all that longer, especially compared to other Tagrutan women) to her poise and confidence, to her prowess as a warrior, a user of the force, and her ability to command soldiers as well as control her emotions points to her being an adult woman. She’s no Snips anymore; she’s no child. She’s grown up. And how her peers react to her illustrates how they now view her as an adult.

First there is Obi-wan. Obi-wan has always been a mentor to her, a sort of second Master. Obi-wan never hesitated to guide and Ahsoka or offer his council. He is proud of her when she succeeds, and will admonish her when she makes mistakes. When she returns and he sees her as a woman, he changes the way he treats her. He acknowledges her maturity by addressing her as an equal. He doesn’t admonish her. Instead he discusses with her, challenging her ideas and letting her offer an argument for them instead of putting them down and telling her how she should think or act. He also comes to her in his time of need, trusting her to help him with Anakin.

Then there is Anakin. We all know of Anisoka shippers, and they are perfectly able to ship and enjoy said ship, but we can all acknowledge that it is a crack pairing with no basis in the canon. Anakin portrays the perfect kind of brotherly love. He is excited to see Ahsoka, and is stunned by her unexpected reappearance. Things are harder for Anakin because he is used to their fun banter and sibling-like companionship. He’s constantly shut down with her business like manner and he struggles with coming to terms with the fact that she isn’t a little kid sister anymore. She is an adult with a mission and a plan. When he looks at her, he is endearing. He loves her. Admires her. And he can’t wait to pick up where they left off. There’s joy and adoration in his face. He is proud of her and what she has become, but he also feels alienated and even hurt because of how her adulthood has changed their dynamic.

Then there is Rex. When he first sees her, he wants nothing more than to reassure her that she still belongs. The clones had accepted her into their family. As far as they were concerned, she was one of them. When he looks at her for the first time, he’s beaming with the same adoration as he had had for her before, but also with a solemn awe at what she has become and what she has grown into. He welcomes her back into his life without hesitation.

But then there is a moment things shift so drastically that I paused the show and re-watched it half a dozen times. We all know it and love it. This face he gives Ahsoka. The Look.

What we see here is something we have never, EVER seen in Rex for 7 whole seasons. And it is my opinion that this is the first time Rex has been able to feel and express that he is attracted to Ahsoka. In other words, Rex has a sexual awakening.

Up until this point, Rex has been a sexless character. Nothing he does is flirtatious, sexy, or at all suggestive that he has those feelings inside him at all. Every sexual being has a moment where they are first animalistically drawn to another being. Characters who have already had this moment are easy to pick out. Obi wan. Anakin. Ventress. These characters have already experienced their sexual awakening. Ahsoka has too. Lux was her first object of attraction.

But Rex has never had this moment. Until this reaction.

I know some of you might be thinking “but Ahsoka gives a very similar look to Anakin, does that mean she is sexually attracted to HIM?” It’s a very good point. Ahsoka and Anakin share some cheeky playful looks during “Old Friends Not Forgotten”. We see many characters give similar looks to other characters, but does this mean it means the same thing as when Rex does it? The short answer is no.

When animators design a character, they establish the “range of emotion” for that character. You can easily see this when you look back at how many times you see Rex break from his stoic, captain’s face. He rarely laughs, smiles, or emotes in any way. This is why when we see him emote it is exciting to us as an audience. A character like Ahsoka or Anakin commonly show a wide variety of expressions. Ahsoka is much more likely to give a cheeky look than Rex is. So “the look” for Rex, means a lot more when he is doing than it does when another character does it, say Fives or even Obi-Wan.

Which means the writers are trying to tell us something about this moment. 

This moment has changed Rex’s and Ahsoka’s relationship. 

Now does this mean that they are going to go bang each other immediately? Does this mean the second they are alone after “Victory and Death” they start an intense, sexual relationship? Of course not. That’s not what this ship is about at this time. But the reason many of us ship it is because suddenly they don’t feel like brother and sister anymore. It isn’t entirely platonic. And the show does a good job to further emphasize this as they come closer and closer both emotionally, and physically during the finale.

Blocking is a huge factor in visual storytelling. During the finale, Rex and Ahsoka are blocked in a way that makes them as close as physically possible on the screen. This communicates to the audience that they are closer now than they have ever been. As Jedi and Clone Trooper. As friends, and as companions, their bond forged in the fires of war, struggling to find meaning in life as soldiers.

In contrast, look how Ahsoka and Anakin are blocked in their scenes. There is nearly always a gap between them, illustrating that they are distanced from each other emotionally. Rex is even visually inserted into the gap between them in several instances. Anakin and Ahsoka are growing apart, but she and Rex are growing closer.

We get to experience Rex and Ahsoka engaging in actions and conversations that we had rarely seen before. From casual banter, to moments of intense intimacy, to emotional peaks, Rex and Ahsoka interact more in these four episodes than in the previous six seasons. Part of this is because their maturity gap has closed. Ahsoka is finally Rex’s equal in experience and maturity. It is also in part because it is a unique dynamic. No Obi-wan. No Anakin. Rex and Ahsoka are equal leaders of the 332nd. There’s also the fact that they are put into life threatening situations and have no one else but each other.

But there is that “look” that is given at the beginning of all this that suggests something else, that as their bond undoubtedly becomes strong as beskar, there is an element of it that takes their relationship from the platonic to the romantic.

I feel every detail, moment, and piece of dialogue in the finale tells the story of this bond. 

Many instances of their strong emotional bond have been spread throughout the internet, with most ready to acknowledge that they have a connection unlike any other, one that may even be described as a “force” connection. These last four episodes are so exciting because we see two friends reunited, but then we get to watch as their relationship transforms.

Even disregarding their implied attraction to each other physically, they dive into each other and hold on tight. Ahsoka shares deep personal worries with Rex, and Rex and her are shown opening up to each other in ways they have never opened up before.

We were all floored and dumbfounded at scenes such as these that show these characters at their most vulnerable. But they decide to be vulnerable together. Is it because they are all that is left of their 501st family? It part, this is definitely true. But by being this vulnerable they transform their relationship into something very different from what they had before. It will never be the same again, and it will be near impossible to back out of the emotional intimacy that these two have participated in. Once you have formed that kind of an attachment with someone, there is no going back, and as is seen in rebels, these two maintain that strong connection even after years of being apart.

This goes beyond their sexual desires or needs. They’ve forged a bond that cannot be broken. They have shared minds, shared pain and agony that only the other can understand. They’ve been isolated from the world, and all they have left is each other.

And at the end of the series, when we have Rex and Ahsoka broken, their world flip upside down and everything they ever valued or cared about lies in ruins before them, the idea that they still have each other is that beautiful seed of hope Star Wars is so good at preserving. Those of us who believe that their relationship could be romantic want good things for Rex and Ahsoka. We want them to have that love and share it with each other. Maybe only for a few moments, but having known it would be better than both of them living and dying without having that experience. 

When we see the two in Rebels, for me it confirms that these two love each other deeply. But their lives can never be lived in a normal fashion. They cannot even be together as partners in life. The Empire has stolen this from them. The tragedy of this ship is that it can never be the way we want it to be. Rex will age and die long before Ahsoka is even halfway through her own life. They cannot live with one another. They cannot wake each morning with each other, at least not at the point we see them in rebels. 

But they continue to love each other. Even over distance, even knowing that mortality will claim them with only a fraction of the memories that they deserve with one another. 

So please, the next time you see some art or a fic, or a post like this, think of what I had to say. Rexsoka is about two adults, their lives destroyed at the hands of Sidious, but in defiance they still forge a bond that he could never break or take from them. And that to me is beautiful and something to celebrate.

Side note: I spent a ton of time making gifs but they never would work and so I had to use screenshots instead :(

EDIT: At the request of the OG poster of a few gifs, I have replaced them have also made some grammatical changes. 

#ahsoka #captain rex #rexsoka #rexsoka week #the clone wars #star wars

[cherumie]

i have some hcs about Grelle's pre-reaper life, which i have formed over years upon years of thinking about her 24/7. Bear with me, I'm sick so my brain can't think of the right words to use, and this is very unstructured and full of gaps (which id be happy to fill) because it's my first time talking about this to anyone and idk what I should and shouldn't mention. tw for period-typical queerphobia, mentions of abuse and suicide (because, you know, shinigami):

She was the eldest child. To me, the eldest of three, but the number isn't that important. Her family was well-off but not influential. I am undecided on this, but i lean towards them being comfortable because of her dad's occupation (trade???? medicine????), rather than a noble title.

I just know she was a clever little smartass as a kid! She wouldn't focus on any subject that bored her, but to me she was always very witty, athletic, and a fan of the arts, although her temper and capricious nature were present ever since she was little. She probably had some dark traits and crueler instincts even as a kid, but 1) it was nowhere near as bad as it is in canon, and 2) it was enabled by an overbearing mother and a dad who uhhh,,, will be explained as we go.

She adored her mother, who was a sweet, mild-mannered woman. They were inseperable throughout her childhood, and her mother encouraged her to be herself and was accepting of her feminine/flamboyant mannerisms and habits (something her dad did not like at all). I want to think that Grelle's mom love her throughout her life, even when it hurt, but her passive nature didn't let her interfere and help her child.

And here comes my favourite topic; Grelle's dad! Imo, he sucked, in a period-typical bigot way. I think of him as a hot-headed but otherwise intelligent man (as intelligent as someone like him can be), who had the biggest inferiority complex because of his humble origins (immigrant/working class parents and stuff). This made him obsessed with securing his legacy through an heir, so he really pushed Grelle to act the way he expected an heir should act. After a certain age, they would fight over Grelle's behaviour and identity, and he would often resort to violence to make sure she wouldn't "act up" in public or do anything that would result in him losing face (because i do have a mean streak, i like to think that she's the spitting image of him; same hair and eyes, similar features and build, similar personality and temperament. Even though she's stuck at a fairly young age and she definitely inherited the grace and some delicate details from her mom, the resemblance is uncanny. You know, because im a sucker for the "resembling someone you despise" trope, it makes everything worse when you think about it).

So it basically started to get bad after Grelle turned like, 10? 11? The time kids are sent to boarding school, and when puberty first hits. I think her dad turned a blind eye to her clearly being trans and having different ambitions than what he wanted because he thought it was just his Kid being a Kid and that she would outgrow it. After he realised that wasn't going to happen, he'll broke loose. Now I think that something happened in her mid teens, probably a breakdown, an especially big fight, an event of sorts, that made her snap under the pressure and finally start playing by her father's rules. Imo I see her adopting a persona that has qualities from both butler Grelle and OVA Grelle (which I'd love to expand on but it's an entire post in itself). She maintained the qualities her father thought valuable, but never questioned him or went against his wishes in any way.

This went on for around a decade, until she became a reaper (in canon she's in her late twenties to early thirties when that happens). I would blame that on a steady mental decline; she turned inwards, escaped through fiction, and some of the tendencies that were already there (i don't want to give them a term; im not a psychiatrist, and even though i have my theories about Grelle's mental landscape, again, whole other post) met some growing delusions and a ton of repression and resentment, and it obviously didn't mix well. Even though she could mostly keep it to herself in the beginning, it became more and more obvious that she was slipping away as she entered her mid-twenties.

I think she became a reaper because of an impulsive thought or an event that she magnified in her head to a catastrophic degree, or again as a result of a breakdown. We know from canon that she often acts before she thinks, and that she can have extreme reactions to things according to her mood. I know people used to think about how she went through with it a lot, but I honestly have no idea. I want to say that she killed her dad before she did it, but it might be too gratifying and self-indulgent so I am not decided on that yet.

Aaand that's p much it?? Like that's a very general version of it because I've already forced you to read all that. Thank you sm for your time, I would love to read more hcs about our girl, and to also expand on specific areas of mine if i get the chance. I love our oc Grelle Sutcliff 🥰

(ill star signing these as anon mo if that's okay!)

I was planning on picking apart this ask & giving my own take on ur headcanons but I just decided that that's too hard so I'm just gonna post it like this lol

But anyways YES I LOVE IT. It's obvious that you think about this a lot & I thank you for sharing ur brain with me 😌 It's so interesting how pretty much every fan has a different version of Grelle and her backstory in our heads. I would love to hear other people's personal takes on her!

( and yeah ofc that's okay! nice to meet you :) )

#sorry i couldn't give a more in depth response #im very very very burnt out right now bc of irl stuff (´-﹏-`；) #Kuroshitsuji #black butler #ask #anon #grell sutcliff #grelle sutcliff

[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Wordcount: 2k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm

Masterlist here 

AO3 link here

Author’s Note: And we’re at the penultimate chapter! Am rly excited to hear what you guys think - so please, drop me an ask, a note, a comment, anything!!! Thank you for following this fic with me <3

He stays away from her over the next two weeks. He still picks Shino up from childcare - he’s never leaving his little girl again - but takes Osamu’s advice to duck into the kitchen the minute he hears the bell chime to mark her entrance into the shop. 

‘Is everything alright with Atsumu?’ he hears her ask Osamu after a week of radio silence from him. 

He imagines Osamu just shrugs, because his twin later gives him a look of askance that he ignores. 

‘Meet me on Sunday afternoon? Was hoping to have a quick chat and pass something over to you since my arm is out of its sling.Osamu agreed to take Shino for a couple of hours, so don’t worry about her’, he texts her. 

‘Fine’, she texts back. ‘Works for me’. 

‘Hey’, he greets her as she opens the door, fighting the impulse to scruff his shoes into the ground like a nervous schoolboy on his first date. 

‘Hey yourself’, she responds without heat, slipping on her shoes. ‘Shall we?’ 

He nods, turning on his heel and she follows suit, their footfalls matching in pace, though they angle their bodies to avoid each other’s gaze in the lift. They do not exchange a single word until they reach the car park, and he leads her past all the cars to a dim corner, lit by a single flickering electric bulb.  

‘Atsumu - what’s this?’ she says, staring uncomprehendingly at the motorbike parked in front of her, the exact replica of the bike she sold when she got pregnant with Shino, albeit updated with a shining coat of new paint and the latest modifications, top of the line. 

‘Surprise?’ he tells her, unable to hide a grin when she runs a hand reverently over the seat of the bike. 

‘I can’t accept this, ‘Tsumu. It’s too much’, she demurs but he knows she’s fallen in love when she’s unable to tear her eyes away from the bike.

‘Sure ya can! I registered it under yer name, and paid for the parking fees for the year, and look! It even comes with a helmet!’, he assures her, crossing his fingers behind his back. ‘Ya can ride it whenever ya have time to yerself - I’ll make sure I or ‘Samu will take Shino-chan for a couple hours every weekend so ya can go break some speed limits on the bike!’ 

‘This isn’t a bribe, right? Or some attempt to trick me into agreeing into something I don’t want to do?’ she asks him suspiciously. 

‘No - no tricks, I swear on my life. Look - I’ve signed the divorce papers, they’re in my bag. I just wanted to give ya the bike as a partin' gift’, he says, keeping his voice deliberately light. 

She stares at him, searching his face for any sign of duplicity, but he holds her gaze until she turns away, satisfied. 

‘You never do anything by halves, do you ‘Tsumu? But thank you anyway’, she laughs breathily and his heart lurches to a start when he sees her slowly start to glow whilst fussing over the bike, exclaiming to herself as she admires the paint job and the extra compartments he’d gotten the mechanic to install. 

Watching her brings back memories of their adventures together before Shino came along. She’d pick him up for a ride to the outskirts of Osaka on their rare days off, in search for a spot to lay their picnic mat down and shoot the breeze. They’d never found that perfect picnic spot, but that just meant that there were more places to explore, more roads to traverse, more adventures for them to go on. That’d all stopped once Shino came along, and he wonders if they wouldn’t be in such a state if he’d put in more effort to carve out more time for them.   

And even before that - there was the time she’d surprised him by turning up in Kobe for one of his matches, sweeping him away from his confused teammates right after the match to celebrate over egg mayo sandwiches at 7-11. He suspects that was the day he’d fallen in love with her, half realising that she was probably the only person crazy enough to burn hours on the road on the back her rusty old bike right after an exam, just to stay up all night sitting cross-legged in a dim combini with mayo in her hair, listening to him ramble about his volleyball match. 

Wow. 'Samu's right. Even the reason he fell in love with her was fucking selfish. 

‘Hey ‘Tsumu’, he hears her say after a while and he looks up. ‘Wanna go for a ride?’ she asks brightly, twirling the keys around her finger. 

‘Huh?’ he responds, genuinely perplexed. 

‘A ride, you idiot. Don’t you want to find out how the bike feels on the road, especially since you’re the one who paid for it?’ 

‘Sure’, he says, a little lost - but then again she’s always found ways to keep him on his toes. ‘But there’s only one helmet’. 

‘I still have my old one upstairs. Give me a second so I can get it!’ she rushes off, a spring in her step he’s sorely missed seeing and despite the ache in his heart, he smiles. 

His smile vanishes the moment she kicks the bike full throttle and hurtles through weekend Osaka traffic at breakneck speed, making such sharp turns he almost falls off the bike if he weren’t already clutching her waist for dear life. ‘Oi! Look out!’ he yelps, as she weaves her way through narrow gaps between cars, seemingly deaf to the horns of outraged drivers behind her - and fuck he wants to puke but can’t because there’s no way that doesn’t end badly for him. 

‘Slow down, you fuckin' maniac’, he manages to shout when his stomach gives itself up for dead, but the wind swallows his words and she only whoops in response. The neon city lights blur into a mess of colours and he runs through his repertoire of curse words. He swears she’s evil - it’s not enough that she’s killed him once by divorcing him, her insane riding is going to make sure he’s doubly dead.

They burst onto the highway in a squeal of tires, the city skyline fading into a sea of lights, and they’re both so focused on the road ahead of them, well – she is, at least, he’s trying his level best to stay on his seat - that neither of them notice the dark clouds gathering above until the first splatter of raindrops on the road. 

The sky is threatening enough to make her swerve off the highway into a quiet neighbourhood, screeching to a halt at the nearest park with an empty shelter large enough to fit both of them. They jump off the bike, helmets dangling over their arm, and she catches hold of his hand as they splash their way through muddy puddles in a bid to escape the incoming storm. 

‘That was amazing!’ she laughs when they reach shelter, twirling on the tips of her feet, cheeks flushed pink with excitement, looking so happy and bright and alive -  like a bird spreading its wings to fly high in the sky, the way she used to be before their marriage broke her wings and shackled her to the ground. 

If only he hadn’t been blinded by the false allure of his dreams to appreciate what was right in front of him - a woman bold enough to whisk him away from the clutches of deranged fans on the back of a motorbike, fierce enough for Osamu to assign her to deal with his bullshit - and most of all, crazy enough to marry and have a child with him. And he knows she isn’t his, not anymore, but he's a greedy, selfish man, and he wants her one last time, so he throws his jacket over her shoulders as a pretext for drawing her close to him, slanting his mouth gently over hers. 

She stills for a second, and he’s about to pull away when she melts into him, tilting her chin up to grant him greater access to her lips. An unexpected heat coils in his stomach when she tangles her fingers in his hair, scraping her nails against his scalp, a thrill running down his spine as he loses himself in her familiar softness and warmth and groans.

She gasps, jerking away from him, tracing her bruised lips with her fingers, looking up at him with wide eyes.

‘Tsumu’, she begins to say, but he cuts her off, frantic with worry that he’s scared her off before he’s had the chance to say his piece. 

‘I’m sorry - I know I shouldn’t have but I just...can I just say what I meant to say to ya before this?’ he asks, banking on the fact that she hasn’t slapped him yet, and to his relief, she nods. 

‘I’ve thought about what ya said, and yer right -  I’ve taken so much from ya I don’t deserve to ask ya for anything else, not when I should be the one making it up to ya for the rest of my life,’ he says, his heart cracking beneath his ribs (so it’s true, a heart can actually break) – because he knows now she’s lost to him, has been the second he'd forsaken his vows and stormed out of her life, but he gulps a breath to calm his pulse, forcing himself to continue on. 

‘All I want is for ya to be happy and free - and if signing these papers is the price I have to pay, I’ll do it for ya’. Then he draws the brown envelope from his bag, holding it out to her with shaking hands. 

She makes no move to take it from him. 

‘Do you even love me, ‘Tsumu?’ she asks, her voice feather light, a wisp in the wind. ‘Be honest with me, you don’t have to lie’.

There’s a searing pain in his chest and he closes his eyes, losing himself to the undercurrent of regret pulsing in his mind. 

‘I do’, he manages to choke out, peeling aside the rotting layers of vanity and greed and selfishness and pride to flay his chest open to present his heart to her, in all its bleeding, broken glory. 

‘Yer everythin’ I could’ve ever asked for, and it’s killin’ me to watch you walk away - but I deserve it cos I’m a fuckin’ idiot for not realisin’ that sooner, and ya have no idea how fuckin’ sorry I am for hurting ya so badly and making you think that I don’t love ya - because I do, gods, I do, I love ya so goddamned much.’

‘Does our marriage mean that much to you?’ she stares at him, her eyes clouded with an emotion he can’t make out. 

‘Yes’, he says simply, his response both a confession and a prayer. He makes no move to touch her, fearful that any misstep might tip them both over the edge, the storm of emotions swirling within him already threatening to swallow him whole. 

‘Then ask me again, ‘Tsumu’ she whispers, her fists clenched, trembling by her side.    

He blinks at her, but his confusion morphs into elated disbelief when she takes the brown envelope from him and rips it cleanly in half. 

Oh. 

‘Ask me again, ‘Tsumu’, she repeats, the clouds in her eyes clearing into pools of light. He wonders if it mirrors the rush of warmth and love and most of all - hope, overflowing in his heart. 

‘Wanna try jumping off a cliff again?’ he asks, voice shaking, echoing the request he made of her years ago.

She steps forward into his waiting arms, her smile like golden sunlight spilling through grey rain.  

‘Only if you promise to jump with me’, she says softly against his chest. 

He catches her forgiveness desperately in his hands, and seals his promise with his lips. 

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu!! #haikyuu writing #hq writing #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #miya atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x y/n #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x y/n #haikyuucreations #miya atsumu #miya osamu #inarizaki

[prettyboybarzal]

Dancing with Our Hands Tied

Pairing: Pierre Luc Dubois x Reader

A/N: this is a multi-part fic for PLD!!! we all simped over him for a hot minute and i decided to capitalize on it because i mean......... look at him. so, enjoy a little enemies to lovers trope w/ one of my favorite frenchmen. PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!! and thank you to @bandgirlsclub​ for all the help w/ my lil writers block. love u bb. she elevated my dialogue so much. if you don’t follow her, please go follow her now. and then enjoy chapter one!

Word Count: 2.6k

Masterlist // Next Chapter

Pierre didn’t like you because you didn’t like him and no one disliked Pierre Luc Dubois, especially in the city of Columbus. He was a legend. He was the star player, the future of the Blue Jackets. Everyone loved him, except you, so he hated you.

The feud started during his rookie season. He marched into the city of Columbus with his shoulders squared, his head held high, and his ego the size of Nationwide Arena itself. On his very first night out with your friend group, he’d gotten you kicked from a club after starting a fight and then poured his entire drink down your back as you waited for Ubers on the curb.

Out of frustration, you ended up foregoing the car to walk home, despite the protests that came from the other boys. And Pierre laughed as you walked away, amused by the liquid stain on the back of your favorite going out shirt.

No apology ever came, and that was a wrap on any potential friendship with him.

Three years later, nothing changed. Though these days, as Pierre’s comfort around you rebounded, he didn’t avoid you and instead made it his job to antagonize you whenever you were around. He made comments about your outfits, flirted with your friends that had clearly been told to steer clear of him, and fucked up your drink orders whenever he bought rounds for the group. Mostly, you took it in stride with a few choice curse words slung his way, but over time you started to antagonize him right back.

“Asshole at three o’clock.”

It took a moment, but your eyes followed the metaphorical clock of the bar and fell on the group of Blue Jackets pushing their way through the crowd. Leading the way was Pierre sporting a cocky smirk on his lips. He made his way around the group of girls, hugging each one before reaching you and ultimately opting not to say hello and just head for the bar. As soon as he stepped away you were making retching noises with your mouth.

“Back at it again, I see,” Josh Anderson spoke as he wrapped his arms over your shoulders. “You two would get along really well if only you tried.”

“I don’t want to try,” you responded. This earned the laughter of their other teammates, Seth and Boone, as they sat in the open seats at your bar top and joined the conversation that had been on hold for hugs hello.

When Pierre returned to the table, he was toting a tray of drinks. One by one, he placed each glass down with its rightful owner until the last two remained. And then he placed a Shirley Temple in front of you.

“It’s virgin.”

“Just like you,” you spat. While the table erupted in laughter, you stood to get a drink of your own. Preferably one that was heavy on the liquor.

---

Despite everything else, going out with him wasn’t all bad because after a while he just got distracted. He would slink away from the group and find himself surrounded by a bunch of local university students and you were free to enjoy your night without him chirping in your ear. While Pierre and Seth scouted the bar for hot single girls, you stayed back at the booth with your girlfriends, Josh, and Boone.

Drinks flowed as easily as the conversation, as usual, and up until about 11 p.m. there was nowhere else you’d’ve rather been. Until Charlie texted you.

“Uh oh, Chuck’s at it again.”

Josh was peaking over your shoulder.

“Would you stop being nosey?” you growled, angling your body away from him so he couldn’t read your texts—most of which were ‘u up’ texts. “And stop calling him Chuck. It makes it sound like I’m sleeping with a father of three.”

“You might as well be,” Boone said. He dodged the rolled-up napkin you sent his way with a chuckle.

The boys always liked to chirp you for your taste in guys, but Charlie was by far their favorite to make fun of because of the eight-year age gap you shared.

“Remember when YN would stay out past midnight?” Boone mused.

“Yeah, I do,” Josh sighed dreamily. “But then she got wifed up by a silver fox.”

“A silver fox?” you asked, trying your hardest to suppress the grin on your lips. “He has black hair.”

“That’s because he probably dyes it.”

More giggles fell from their mouths until you glared at them and their mouths snapped shut.

You met Charlie on a dating app and while things hadn’t progressed past that one night of dinner and drinks, you didn’t mind the casual sex that resulted from it. It was exactly what you needed at this point of your life—no strings attached.

I just called you a car. Should be there in 10 minutes.

You took the final swig of your drink and stood. The boys’ eyes followed your movement, knowing smiles on their lips.

“I’ll see you guys later this week, yeah?”

You said your goodbyes, ignoring the last-minute jabs the boys wanted to get in, and began to search the bar for Seth. You spotted him at a table across the bar with a gaggle of petite girls and Pierre by his side. The moment you looked over at them, Pierre caught your eye.

You started walking over as he checked the time on his watch. 11:45 p.m. You never left before midnight.

Seth opened his arms as you approached and you folded into them as you said your goodbyes. Something about the interaction had Pierre turning away to talk to the girls they’d met. It was the same pit in his stomach type of feeling he got whenever you were around, whenever you embraced the other boys with a quick peck on the cheek or laughed at one of their shitty jokes.

He heard you say your final goodbye to Seth and your shoulder brushed against his back unknowingly as you avoided saying goodbye to him. He almost let you go unbothered, but his need to talk to you just once more was overwhelming. At the very last second, he turned and caught your elbow.

“Who’s got you running off before midnight, Cinderella?”

“It’s funny you think you deserve an answer to that question,” you growled, pulling your arm out of his grasp in disgust. He leaned back against the table with a smile. Your eyes flickered to the girls behind him, one with a glare set on you as she sipped her drink. 

A lightbulb went off above your head.

You stepped forward, squeezing yourself between Pierre and Seth’s bodies to get a word in with the girls around the table. 

“Can I offer you all some free advice?” you asked, even though you were going to give it to them anyway. “This one,” you spoke, nodding to Pierre. You dropped your voice to a whisper and the girls inched forward to catch your words. “He’s been around the block, if you know what I mean. I’d make sure he wraps it before he taps it. Who knows the last time he’s gotten tested?”

You slipped out from between the boys, ignoring the curses that fell from Pierre’s lips as you walked away.

---

You left Charlie’s at 7 the next morning. Although you tried not to make a habit of sleeping at his apartment, there were some nights that you ignored the voice inside your head. You dressed yourself in the outfit from the night before and stepped into his bathroom to check your make-up and fix your hair before allowing the world to see you in all your one night stand glory.

Last night was one of the worst nights you’d spent with him. He was off from the moment you got in the door to the moment he fell asleep after finishing. You ended up completely unsatisfied and if you hadn’t been as tired as you were, you probably would’ve gone home to bring your own self to orgasm since he so clearly couldn’t.

As you shut his front door behind you, another door in the hall shut. You looked up to see which neighbor had entered the hallway and immediately felt your stomach drop.

“This? This is the place you ran off to last night?” Pierre was standing at the next door over. He looked astounded, eyes flickering between you and the door you’d just come out of. “You’re fucking my neighbor? Isn’t he like 40?”

“You live here?” you asked, eyes wide as you took in the sight of Pierre in front of you. His hair was still messy from sleep, but he was dressed in his Blue Jackets workout gear and on his way out the door.

“I moved in at the beginning of the season,” he answered. He stepped forward and you stepped backwards in response. “But you wouldn’t know that because you didn’t come to my housewarming party.”

You didn’t think he was serious when he extended the invite, and you were almost positive your response was along the lines of ‘I’d never step foot inside your house.’  

With a scoff, you turned and continued down the hall. He was hot on your heels the entire way to the elevator and slowed to a stop to wait beside you when you pressed the down button. You were surprised when he didn’t immediately start digging deeper about your night. He was more preoccupied with whatever was on his phone than you, thankfully, though you were certain once he had you in the enclosed space of the elevator he’d start prying.

When the doors of the elevator finally opened, Pierre stepped in and held his hand out to keep the doors open for you. You stayed put.

“I’ll wait for the next one,” you said stubbornly, crossing your arms over your chest. He let out a dry laugh, eyes rolling before grabbing your arm and pulling you into the confined space with him.

The doors shut.

“You’re fucking dramatic.”

The elevator began its descent to the lobby and, all the while, you could feel him watching you.

“Can you stop?” you spat, shooting him a glare from the other corner of the elevator.

He studied you for a moment before asking, “Quiet in bed?”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you quiet in bed?” he asked, slower this time, like you were too stupid to understand what he said before. You couldn’t find the words to answer, jaw ajar as your brain tried to catch up to his question. “I’m only asking because I’m pretty sure Charlie and I share a bedroom wall, and his place was completely silent last night.”

“You’re a pig.”

Pierre chuckled, satisfied with the reaction he’d gotten out of you, and continued talking, “Unless he can’t get you off.”

“Familiar with that problem, huh?”

“Not in the slightest,” he answered.

“As far as you know,” you muttered under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear. The last place in the world you wanted to be was with Pierre in this elevator and you wanted him to know that.

“Not that you will ever get the chance to experience it yourself, but I know my way around the bedroom,” Pierre countered easily. Too easily. 

“Mmm,” you hummed, “I’m sure, what, with your body count in the hundreds probably. Statistically, you would have to have gotten at least 50% off.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know how many girls I have in my bed every week,” Pierre grinned, his ego oozing out of his every word.

“Not even a little bit,” you sighed. Your fingers came up to your temple as you tried to rub away the migraine that was beginning to take form. “Where you put your dick is of no concern to me, unless you decide to put it in a blender. Then, and only then, will I give a shit.”

“See, I think you care an awful lot more than you let on, princess,” Pierre said. Your face twisted in disgust at the pet name. “And I think that no matter how much you want to hate me, you really don’t. You’re just jealous that I’m not fucking you.”

That pushed you over the edge, the ounce of patience that you had left in your system had been blown to pieces with that comment. 

“Would you pull your head out of your ass for once in your life, Pierre?” you spat. “I wouldn’t let you touch me with a ten foot pole, much less your filthy dick. My sex life is none of your god damn business. Actually, scratch that, my life is none of your business. I only put up with you because we run in the same group of friends, so don’t try and get cute with me. If I had things my way I would never have even met you, much less learned your name.”

Pierre opened his mouth to speak, likely to try and counter everything you had just said with a dig, but you held your hand up to silence him. 

“We don’t have to like each other, Pierre, but you don’t have to be such a raging asshole about it. I thought at some point you might get tired of being a complete dick but your endurance is impressive, I’ll give you that. So listen to me carefully when I tell you I want nothing to do with you.”

The elevator stopped at the lobby and you made a beeline to the front door of the lobby to begin your walk home in silence. Beautiful, peaceful, Pierre-less silence.

---

The silence didn’t last long. 

You were halfway through your skin care routine when your phone rang, piercing through the otherwise quiet apartment. Across your home screen, your sister’s name flashed over a goofy photo from New Years.

“What do you want?” you asked after swiping to accept. Your sister’s face filled the screen with a fake offended look on it. You giggled. “Listen, Sadie, the only time I’ve heard from you since you moved back to school has been because you needed me to do something for you.”

“Okay, well,” she started. You raised your eyebrows at her in amusement. You knew this was coming. “It’s not really me who needs something.”

“Which one of your friends needs something then?”

“Mom,” she said with a laugh. Confusion flashed over your features, so she continued, “My friends are all going home next weekend and I decided I’d do the same because why would I want to be here without them, right?” You nodded as she rambled on. “But when I told Mom I wanted to come home, she told me that her and Dad are going to be out of town.”

“They’re going away?”

“Yeah, and she doesn’t want me home alone.”

You laughed out loud. It was so typical of your mom to not trust Sadie to be home alone for a few days. She turned 21 months ago and yet she still wasn’t trusted by your parents. You couldn’t say you blamed them. Sadie wasn’t exactly the most responsible. 

“Stay at school then.”

“See, I was gonna do that,” she trailed off. “But she already bought me a plane ticket to see you.” Your jaw dropped, but you closed it at the sight of your sister’s apologetic face. “I’m really sorry, but on the brightside, I can finally party with you and all your boy toys! Especially the French one you hate so much,” she said his name in a French accent, “Pierre Luc Dubois, or whatever his sexy ass name is.”

And that was exactly what you were worried about.

#pierre luc dubois fic #pierre luc dubois story #pierre luc dubois imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #dancing with our hands tied fic #mk writes #hockey fic #hockey story #nhl story #nhl fic #columbus blue jackets fic #columbus blue jackets imagine

[passable-talent]

ya boi is back with a new niche character played by hayden christensen for yall to enjoy.

CW: blood, wounds, cursing, piercings, tattoos, guns, fighting, deaths of unnamed characters

AJ x gn!reader - Takers (2010). the stupid hat grew on me.

dedicated as always to @haydens-moles and @iscariot-rising for being my friends and for appreciating hayden as much as I do

The story of your life, as you loved to explain it, boiled down to a little math joke. Excited five, you called it, or it’s official terminology- five factorial. Written as “5!”, hence the awful pun.

“Factorials,” you’d say, “for those that don’t remember, are a multiplication of every number up to the one that’s being discussed. As such, five factorial is five, times four, times three, times two, times one.”

Your life, your excited five, was as follows: five major scars, four tattoos, three piercings, two eyebrow slits.

“The one is usually ignored,” you’d say, “as it makes no multiplicative difference. That’s why I don’t have a ‘one’.”

In August, 2009, you got your ‘one’. Its a doozy. But we’re not there yet.

~~~

Five major scars.

December 25, 1983. It’s your first Christmas. Your parents think you’re just being a cranky infant, but something way more serious is going on- they find out the next day that you’ve got RSV, a respiratory virus that’s especially dangerous for infants. You spend the next three years periodically using a ventilator whenever the coughing acts up. You don’t remember much of it, other than the vaguely crayon-looking piece of the machine, but you can’t forget that it happened, due to the pretty white scar over the bridge of your nose. It’s not such a gnarly wound as it is a reminder- not of the ventilator that wore through your skin thanks to frequent use, but of the virus that almost took your life only a few months after it had begun.

July 28, 1993. You’re seven years old, staying at your grandmother’s house with your cousin, who’s six months older than you. You’re playing cops and robbers- he’s the cop. The forest streaks by as you run the length of the property, slightly faster than him, but he catches you and throws you down. You land on your back on a jagged rock, not only painfully impacting your spine but digging deeply into your muscles beside it. It was the first hospital visit you remember, and the dark, long scar halfway between your tailbone and your shoulders reminds you never to fall without controlling it.

January 15, 1998. You’re in sophomore year of high school, and not the most popular. You like to play by the rules, and some asshole junior decides that he doesn’t like the way you won’t let him cheat off of your trigonometry homework, and decides that a knife is the best way to settle the problem. Those homework answers weren’t worth the long white line over all four of the knuckles of your left hand, but it is a pretty little reminder that lowlifes do what they want. And law enforcement, or whatever your school called the ‘anti-bullying league’, does jack shit about it.

October 30, 2002. You’re almost done with your certification to become a cop- thank god. You couldn’t stand the people who were to become your graduate class. They were so ready to become cops just to bully people, just to get to weild an iron fist and hide their bloodlust behind the law. Not you- you’re here to do some real good. That’s what they don’t like about you. And that’s why Fred Young splits open your cheek when just he’s supposed to be practicing his sparring. It’s an ugly scar, needed six stitches, but it’s a reminder that even the cops aren’t always the good guys.

May 14, 2004. You’re a new cop, working under detective Wells. There’s a robbery of a jewelry store a few blocks from where you’re patrolling, and as you’re making your way to the scene, a man in a fedora runs smack into you, taking you both to the ground. Broken glass digs into your shoulder, but he apologizes, and his blue eyes look so genuine. He’s afraid. You’d not realize until a month later that he wasn’t a scared bystander, but in fact one of the thieves. The fifth of your scars matches your first meeting with AJ- who would, by the end of the summer, become one of the most important people in your life.

~~~

Four tattoos.

August 4, 1999- Left wrist, inside knob of the bone. The little symbol had represented something to you when you were sixteen, but it had long lost whatever meaning you’d given it. Now, it was just a pattern to pass your thumb over whenever you got restless.

February 16, 2002- The cap of the right shoulder. It was your bunk number, from when you were training to be a cop. Nothing extravagant, but it was supposed to represent the beginning of the rest of your life- it was supposed to represent your calling.

June 1, 2004- Left arm, the outside of the forearm. Bleeding from your first tattoo was a new one, the largest one on your body. It was geometrical and high contrast, black lines loosely following your veins up toward your elbow, as though that left hand was bringing darkness into your body. It did- you shot with your left hand.

July 17, 2004- Right collarbone. A single, circular monogram, made up of six letters.

T A K E R S.

~~~

Three piercings.

April 7, 1989. Your father took you to get your ears pierced, but insisted upon arrival that it was too expensive to get both done, so you only got your left. The assymetrical style would have to grow on you- at six years old, you hated it.

May 19, 2003. You couldn’t have piercings at the academy, they were unprofessional, they were dangerous. So the night of graduation, you went out and got a hole punched into your nostril- the pain made tears well up, but more than anything, it was the satisfaction of giving a pretty little ‘fuck you’ to your superiors, who you’d never see again.

July 18, 2006. AJ takes you to a fancy beauty salon for an eyebrow bar after hearing maybe once that you’d wanted another piercing. You knew you were in love with him- who else in your life had ever paid such close attention to you?

~~~

Two eyebrow slits.

June 23, 2004. You leave the police force. You tell Wells that it’s because you’re pissed you can’t find the guys that robbed the jewelry store, but that’s not even close to the truth. You’ve found them- hell, you got a good look at one of them on the very day of the robbery. But you’ve done the looking, and didn’t have the heart to bring them in. They had families. They donated ten percent of every heist to a charity. They did more for the community than the police you worked for, and they did it clean- they didn’t hurt anybody, if they didn’t have to. They did what you’d hoped to do, when you joined the force. What you’d never gotten to do. Eyebrow slits were considered extremely unprofessional, so the moment you were free of your two week notice, you split open your right eyebrow. It would give a good balance to the bar piercing you hoped to put through your left someday.

March 4, 2007. You’re cleaning up your slit when AJ walks into the room and stands behind you so that you can see him through the mirror. You keep your eyes on the trimmer you’re so delicately running over your skin, but when he opens up a little felt box with a pretty ring inside, you whirl around with such panic that you make the slit approximately half an inch wider than it should’ve been. Lilli helped you fill in the gap for the engagement photos, but you decided to keep a second slit on the other end of the unfortunate shave- a little reminder of the evening in which he proposed to you.

~~~

“The one is usually ignored,” you’d say, “as it makes no multiplicative difference. That’s why I don’t have a ‘one’.”

On August 27, 2009, you got your ‘one’.

You’d been out of the game for two years, choosing not to take a cut of the winnings. You’d advise, you’d plan, you’d set up, but you did not want to be on site when the heist went down. The boys had it taken care of, and you butted heads with Jesse far too often for anyone’s comfort.

You especially couldn’t work on this project, thanks to a little fucker named Ghost- he didn’t trust you, as a member of the Takers he’d never met, and you didn’t trust him, as a criminal you’d never grown to respect.

You knew that most of them didn’t trust Ghost either, but everything he brought forward checked out- AJ must’ve mumbled the plan thirty times in his sleep in the five days from its suggestion to its fruition. There were no holes. Knowing Gordon and John, they had some ‘insurance’ for Ghost, anyway. In case it went wrong.

Still, you stayed at the Hotel Roosevelt through it all. You were their sitter, keeping the hotel room warm and ready for their arrival. They arrived back one by one- and like usual, AJ got there first. He, Gordon, and John were usually the first to get out, but he always made it back to the room first, because that way he could get some time with you. That way, he could have a private reunion, fresh off of a job.

“Hey, baby,” he said as he closed the door, and you waited for him to turn his eyes to you before you gave him a smile. He threw down his bag onto one of the chairs, and it landed with a heavy thump, but you’d long grown used to the sound of the score. However much he pulled, good for him. You were just happy to slip your arms around his neck and feel him kiss the scar on your cheekbone before sliding his lips to yours.

He always kissed different right after a job- before the boys had all gotten back, before the total was counted. He had a confidence to his movement, but there was fear, insecurity, just a tinge. He wasn’t just a taker, he was a man, who had worries and risks just like every other man.

You were out of the game for a few reasons. They had it taken care of. You butted heads with Jesse. You didn’t trust Ghost. But you knew that you were AJ’s biggest fear- you knew that if you got hurt on a job, he’d never forgive himself.

So he kissed you, he held you close, he reminded himself that you were here, you were fine. His long fingers seems to take up half your back, and his hair was already in his face, as though you’d tugged it there yourself.

With just one more pass of your lips over his, you pulled away.

“How’d it go?” You asked with a soft voice, rolling your first finger through the curls at the back of his neck.

“Could’ve gone better,” he said with a chuckle, “but we got it done.” You heard a knock at the door, and Gordon was the next arrival- then John, then Jake, then Ghost. Jesse came last, and with him, a whole host of new problems.

A bullet splintered the door and caught AJ somewhere under the ribcage. Everyone hit the floor, diving behind couches, and you popped your head up long enough to see AJ launch over the kitchen island. The room shattered into gunfire and feathers from expensive pillows, glass shards littering the ground like raindrops. It all moved so fast, and the air exploded into noise. You could barely track AJ through it all, he was so far away, all the way across the room. And you wanted to keep your eye straight down the barrel of your gun.

“AJ!” Jesse called from beside you, hidden behind a brown leather couch, “You okay?” You looked around the side of it, and saw him ten feet from you, the longest ten feet of your life, behind the kitchen island. He was struggling, on his hands and knees.

“Get up,” you snarled, knowing he’d already taken a hit.

“Out the back!” John ordered from the doorway behind you, and you started to realize the moment, the dangerous, heavy moment. AJ was all the way across the room- he couldn’t cross it. Not with these mobsters holding ground.

“Let’s go!” Gordon shouted, and your eyes connected with AJ’s. He saw the same thing you did.

“Go,” he said, voice calm, and it cut through the chaos of the room, cut through every hardened lesson ever pounded into you, cut through every wall you’d ever built around you, around your heart. “I’m coming.”

AJ was a good liar. But he couldn’t lie to you.

“No,” you growled through gritted teeth, and you made a rash decision.

You’d always been good at gymnastics. You had strong control over the movement of your body, and had, ever since you’d learned from your cousin throwing you down onto that stone that split open your back. You could move and slink and roll and dive in ways that would keep you not only from falling, but even from being noticed.

Using the chaos as your cover, you did a tight diving roll across the room to him, slipping between shelters unscathed. This brought you just a bit closer to the mobsters, but further from the back door exit that Gordon had been trying to guide you toward. You’d chose AJ over your safety any day- the surprise and the fear in his eyes said that he wished you wouldn’t.

Making sure you had enough ammo, you considered your final move- this didn’t end until these mobsters did. There were five of them left, after all this commotion: four in the room, one in the hall. You couldn’t take all five, not with their guns being so much more than yours, but you could take out a few. You could shift attention, you could buy time.

And hopefully, you could stay breathing, too. That’d be nice.

“Stay down,” you hissed, leaving AJ behind the island where he’d be forgotten about, or assumed dead. Then, you rounded the corner and rolled to the feet of the closest mobster. As you came out of the roll you caught his legs in yours, wrenching them from under him and taking him to the ground with one of the first moves you’d learned in basic training. He hit the wall hard, and was unconscious by the time he landed- the same could not be said for his friends.

From your right, you could see Gordon, still firing, still hopeful for your and AJ’s escape. Your shoulders were above the couch, so you knew he saw as you turned your weapon to the second mobster before he could turn to you, and stopped his heart.

Your commotion had caught the attention of the other three who still remained. You whirled around and raised your gun to one of them, but they managed it first.

Gordon had to swallow back his horror as he saw a bullet enter the front of your side profile, and blood explode from the back. He took out the mobster who still had his attention on you- but your shoulders smacked to the ground outside of his view, and he closed the door.

Luckily, their aim was spotty. You now had a useless left arm, but you were still breathing. Not that you’d let the one remaining mobster notice that.

You and AJ played dead, only a few feet from each other, but the kitchen island becoming a thicker wall than any you’d ever been split by. As you stared blankly at the ceiling, taking shallow breaths hidden by the folds of your shirt, you hoped he didn’t think you were dead. You hoped he wasn’t bleeding out.

After what felt like agonizingly long minutes, the shooting finally stopped, and the door opened again. Gordon was the first to enter the room, and rounded the couch to you, grief in his eyes, expecting the worst.

But you could give him a smile.

“Surprise,” you groaned, and he lit up in relief, helping you sit up with your good arm.

“Look at you, playing dirty,” he said with a laugh, “I thought you were gone for sure.”

“AJ,” you heard Jake say from across the room, and finally AJ could sit up from where you’d forced him down. The two of you had both bled straight through your shirts, but there wasn’t any time for sweet reunions- everyone had to get out, and fast.

AJ left his car wherever it was. John gave the two of you a ride to the airstrip where Gordon was going to disappear for a while, and on the way you and AJ attempted to give each other first aid until the personnel on the plane could take care of it.

Eventually, you leaned against his left, and he against your right, your wounds still stinging and sticky with blood, but manageable, for as long as they needed to be.

The night didn’t get any easier, but that didn’t matter- you were home free, they’d managed the job, and Ghost was out of the picture, and neither of you were going to die.

And someday, when you felt brave enough to recount your near-death, near-loss, near-jailed experience, you’d say:

Five major scars, four tattoos, three piercings, two eyebrow slits. And one gun shot wound.

-🦌 Roe

#reader insert #angst #aj #aj takers #takers #takers 2010 #hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #x reader #gn!reader #aj x reader #fics