#on today’s episode of this country is a joke

[total-dxmure]

✦ INVISIBLE STRING THEORY →【ELLIE WILLIAMS】→ CHAPTER TWO

pairings: modern!marine ellie x reader

summary: the marines didn’t ruin ellie. ellie ruined ellie. after being medically discharged she feels lost. being sent to live with joel is more of a last ditch effort to save her and less of a fun reunion for the father-daughter duo. jackson is worlds different than chicago, but the fresh air and sprawling countrysides are a welcome reprieve. ellie finds herself finding comfort in more than just the change in scenery though. after losing your girlfriend due to an accident you feel as though you’ll never find love again- but that was before meeting ellie williams. the two of you figure out that you have more in common than just the fact that she and your girlfriend were both marines though. tethered by some invisible string, the two of you meeting has to be fate. who would have known that you were the golden ticket to ellie’s recovery?

warnings: eventual smut! lots of tension building and mutual pining. ellie falls first and hard. small town girl meets a frightening, strong ex marine. TW: talk of panic attacks, ptsd episodes and death. come for the ellie smut and stay for the plot and fluff. (A/N: this chapter is just plot/character building. next chapter we're getting to the good stuff)

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The old farm truck rocked back and forth as you made your way up the all-too familiar dirt path, heading in the direction of the greenhouses. You’d already let the hens out to graze and feed and the last thing you had to do before dropping today’s produce off was check on the nurseries. 

Johnny Cash’s southern twang hummed gently over the speakers, your well worn-in cassette tape having been the first thing you reached for this morning. The sun had risen just a few hours ago, and after a few cups of much needed coffee you were ready to go. 

The caffeine had done the lord's work, having cleared your brain of any anxious background noise. You could actually function when you had tasks at hand. The second you slowed down though… well, that was a different story. You were trying hard not to imagine Abby sitting beside you in the beat-to-hell red pickup, her blonde braid tossed over her shoulder as she stuck her arm out of the window. You used to joke about her being part dog, what with her loving the wind on her face so much. You missed being able to reach out and wrap a stray strand of blonde hair around your finger, only giving it a soft tug when those blue eyes of hers looked at you with a little too much heat behind them. 

So instead of looking at the empty passenger seat you busied yourself with turning up the volume, country music crackling over the shot, old speakers. You all but jumped out of the car the second you put the car in park, ready to get your hands dirty and your mind preoccupied.

You couldn’t remember how many times the two of you had snuck off to the greenhouse when your mother had gotten a little too overbearing back when she still lived in the main house with you. There wasn’t a single surface in the old rickety building that abby hadn’t fucked you on or vice versa. 

You walked along the rows and rows of seedlings, looking for any sign of water rot or bug infestations. Everything was perfect, every stem and leaf a vibrant green. Tomatoes, all different kinds of summer squash, and beans of every variety; you had the gift of a green thumb. Your father was more than happy to sign his company over to you right before he passed. All five acres of his property belonged to you now, and with that every bit of responsibility had been placed upon your shoulders. You used to resent the fact that you were so young and in charge of so much. Now you were thankful for the constant work. Distractions. You hated seeing your dad’s life work being summed up as a mere distraction, but it was the only thing that got you out of bed in the morning. 

Everyone in the family knew that your dad had wanted a boy when your mother’s pregnancy was first announced. It was a family business, the job having been passed down to him by his own father. Still, he had been ecstatic to show you the ropes. Rather than taking up dance or art like most other little girls your age, you spent your free time elbow deep in mud. You wore the bows and fussed over getting new outfits, but overalls were your daily uniform. 

You wore a pair even today, your work boots tightly fastened to ward away any unwanted pecks from overprotective mother hens. Today was bound to be monotonous, as it always was. All you had to do was repot a few strawberry plants. Maybe if you were lucky a goat would find a hole in the gate and escape. At least it would give you something to worry about that wasn’t Abby related. 

You slunk over towards the sinks, pumping soap into your dirt covered palm to wash off the dirt. You rubbed your hands together to begin lathering but froze when you realized your right hand felt bare. You brushed your thumb against your middle finger only to realize that it was just as you had feared. 

Your ring. It wasn’t there. 

White hot dread locked your limbs as you turned your hand over, the dainty opal missing from your middle finger. You blinked, hoping that you were just seeing things. You didn’t even turn off the sinks before racing back over to the repotting table, as if the promise ring had grown legs and would escape you. Your eyes frantically searched the table, pain shooting through your knees as you dropped down on all fours, pushing dirt and leaves aside to get a better vantage point. Nothing. It wasn’t there. 

“Oh god. No! No, no, no.” You all but screamed, eyes filling with tears as you pulled yourself off. 

You broke out into a nervous sweat, the blood rushing from your head. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening right now. 

You didn’t care if you killed the plants, you ripped the strawberries up by their stems, shaking their roots out as you searched their new pots. 

Every. Single. One. 

Empty. 

Abby had given you that ring just before her last deployment, promising that she would be giving you the real thing once she got back. Of course, she never did. It was single handedly the most important piece of jewelry that you had ever owned, even above your grandmother’s pearls and engagement ring. How could you be so reckless? Why hadn’t you thought to leave it in the car? 

“Stupid! I’m so fucking stupid!” You screamed, tossing a clay pot on the ground in a fit of anger. It shattered behind you, exploding into a thousand tiny pieces. 

You spent an hour sifting through dirt and untangling roots before you finally realized that it was a lost cause. The ring was gone. You’d wrecked the entire greenhouse in your frantic search and the strawberries were just as you expected: dead. 

You slammed the door shut behind you, the old window panes shaking with the force. You had barely thrown yourself into the pickup before your body was wracked with full body sobs. White knuckling the steering wheel you leaned your head forward, completely unbothered as the horn blared. 

How could you lose something so precious to you? It had been the last gift that you had ever received from Abby. The last. There was no possible way to replace something that was that special to you. Her hands had touched that ring. She’d been nervous to give it to you in the first place, anxious that two years hadn’t been enough time to give you something that sentimental. It was the meaning behind it that had you clutching at your chest, your fingernails digging into your shirt as if you could rip your heart straight out from between your ribs. 

She was going to replace that ring once she got back. Give you the “real deal” once she was back home and able to have a ceremony. 

But there would never be a ceremony. Never another ring. Never another Abby. 

Never. Never. Never. 

It felt like you were losing a piece of her, and with that came the revelation- the same one that you’ve already had a thousand times- that she was really gone. There would be no do-overs; no alternate universes where the two of you could be together. The reality of your situation sat heavy in your throat, clogging your airway. 

The loss of Abby had eclipsed your heart completely, and darkness was all that was left. 

You stayed in the car until your eyes had practically swelled shut and there were no more tears to shed. 

The car ride back to her childhood home was completely silent, the only sound being the engine of Joel’s shiny new truck. She did her best to compliment him on the new purchase, but Ellie was sure that she didn’t sound even half as enthusiastic as she had hoped she would. She didn’t feel like being an actress today. Not when he already knew how bad she was doing. Joel had taken one look at her as she got off of the plane and frowned, grabbing her bags only after giving her a bone shattering side hug. 

“Well I missed ya,” He finally spoke, causing her to jump in surprise. The sound of his baritone voice soothed her nerves over though. “I’ve really missed you annoyin’ the hell outta me at all hours of the day.” 

Ellie cracked a small smile at that, leaning her head into the plush leather seat. The last time she saw Joel was when she had first been transferred to the Kindred Hospital back in Chicago, which was where she had rotted away for a full week. Her eye and face healed up quickly but her back was a different story. She’d been burned badly and had all of the nasty scars to prove it. He had stayed by her bedside for the entire week and had helped her to readjust to being back home in her apartment. The nearly debilitating pain was the only thing that had distracted her from the gravity of her situation back then. 

Her therapist said it was normal to disassociate for long periods of time when the body and mind are put under so much stress. Ellie still felt like Ellie back then, but it was only because she didn’t have any real grasp on reality. It was just a few days after Joel left that she finally snapped out of it. She was one of the only five that survived. She was told that landmines were the cause of so many deaths in Iraq. 

“It happens all the time out there. You didn’t know. It’s not your fault.”  

She didn’t want her unit to just be another statistic. They weren’t just numbers. They were people who had loved ones at home. Loved ones that they had to leave for months and months on end. She couldn’t help but shoulder all of the blame. Ellie was the one that had led them out there in the first place. It was her fault, so why hadn’t she died right along with them? She would have considered herself lucky if she had lost her life right along with them. These were the people that she saw daily. Ellie had developed deep friendships with every member of her unit. She knew the details of all of their lives- the names of their children and loved ones back at home, what they wanted to do with their lives once they were dismissed- how could she not feel like someone had ripped her soul to shreds? How could she not constantly remind herself, every second of every goddamn day, that she was the reason. 

She was a ghost. A mere shell of the person that she once was and she had no one to blame but herself. 

“I didn’t know you liked me being annoying so much,” Still, she turned to Joel and cracked him a small smile. It was more for his sake and less for hers though. “I’ll make sure to turn it up a notch while I’m here.” 

The older man grumbled, shaking his head slightly as he kept his eyes on the country roads in front of him. “That sounds like a threat.” 

Ellie could tell that he was playing with her. They were professionals when it came to teasing each other, often to the point that people thought that they were seriously bickering. The short haired female let herself settle into the normalcy of the moment. He hadn’t mentioned anything about the accident or her mental state yet, so it was easy to pretend that things were still…okay. 

So that’s exactly what she did. She began to pretend. Ellie allowed herself to be transported back in time. This was just another Tuesday. She’d get back home and sweet talk Joel into cooking her an after school snack. Then she’d go up to her room and procrastinate doing her homework so that she could reread one of her comics. 

“Got anything good in here?” Ellie asked before opening up the center console. “I’m not gonna find anything nasty, am I?” 

Joel’s lips pursed as he tried to fight off a smile. “Don’t go rifflin’ through my shit, kiddo.” 

Her eyes snagged on a familiar purple book, and for the first time in a while something yawned to life in her chest. Joy. 

“What do we have here?” She pulled out the book of puns, using it to fan herself before she cracked the bad boy open. 

“Ah, don’t start.” He groaned. 

She didn’t take the time to wonder why he had put the well loved book in his brand new truck. Instead of allowing herself to be overcome with endearment she flipped to a random page, her lips turning up in the first genuine smile she’d had in months. 

“Where can you find a tiny coke?” She asked him, turning in her seat so that she could face him, tucking one of her converse-clad feet underneath her. 

“Hey! Get your dirty shoes off of my new upholstery!” Joel reached over and gave her knee a slap. 

Ellie reared back, holding the book of puns tight to her chest. 

“Come on, try and guess.”

He groaned, rolling his eyes as he leaned his arm against the door. 

“I don’t know… tiny town.” 

Her nose wrinkled, an eyebrow quirking up at his half assed answer. 

“Shitty guess, but alright.” She mumbled under her breath. “Mini-soda.” 

“Hilarious.” He said sarcastically, turning onto the familiar drive. 

“I think I saw you smile though.”She leaned over to give his cheek a poke, but he swiftly batted her hand away. 

The truck’s all-terrain tires crunched over the gravel driveway, revealing the only real home she’d ever lived in. The house and yard looked exactly the same as it had whenever she was a teenager. She sighed out a breath of relief, not knowing how much well she would have handled any sort of severe change. Ellie opened the passenger side door before Joel had a chance to put the car in park, eager to settle in after the flight. She wanted to shower, and that surprised her a bit. A welcome surprise.  

Maybe things would be better for her here.  

“You didn’t turn my old room into some perverted sex dungeon while I was gone, did you?” She teased as she grabbed her tan duffel bag, easily tossing it over her shoulder as she bounded up the stairs. 

He laughed as a response, following close behind her so that he could unlock the front door. She didn’t know why he even bothered. He lived in the middle of nowhere, and they rarely got visitors. 

“I’ve got some guitars in there that are worth a fortune.” He’d told her the last time she’d asked. 

It had been one of the few times that Ellie had snuck out of the house after curfew. She’d been unable to haul herself back into her second story window once she’d gotten back home and had been forced to sleep in the beat up old hatchback that he had bought her for her sixteenth birthday. Breakfast that morning had been… tense, to say the least. 

“I didn’t touch your room… but I did get a dog, so make sure not to let her out.” 

She paused at that, turning to look at him with wide eyes. There had been a strict “no animals” rule back when she lived with him. She never thought she’d see the day where Joel Miller would adopt a pet, let alone a dog. 

“You got a dog?” She was still in disbelief and half expected him to fucking with her. 

“Buckley is a good boy. He shits on the floor sometimes and barks all hours of morning though. It’s almost like having you home.” He teased, bumping his shoulder against hers so that he could shove his key into the lock. 

The deadbolt clicked open, and low and behold there was a dog. He looked like some sort of lab mix, his pink tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth as he anxiously waited for his owner’s return. Ellie was too excited to come up with a witty response to Joel’s joke. She tossed her duffle down on the couch, quickly getting down on her knees so that she could pet the dog. 

“He’s not much of a guard dog, is he?” He asked, closing the door behind him. 

The second that Ellie’s hand tangled into his thick black fur he flopped down, eager for love. Ellie smirked, looking at Joel over her shoulder. 

“I don’t know. He looks pretty ferocious to me.” 

The sudden knock on the door had Ellie’s lips downturning, eyebrows pinching in confusion. She didn’t like the idea of company right now, and the last thing she wanted was to socialize with anyone. For a second she feared that he had called a doctor or therapist to come out to the house to see her. She wasn’t sure if she could take another “come to Jesus” meeting this week, and she was barely holding it together as is. Ellie put her hands on her knees, pushing herself up to stand before she nodded at the door. 

“Company?” She simply asked, crossing her arms over her chest. 

Joel ignored her obvious distaste, wrenching the door open quickly before she could stop him. It sure as hell wasn’t Tommy. . . and Ellie doubted that most doctors wore overalls, even in Jackson. The sun was beginning to set on the horizon, the golden rays shone through the vast expanse of trees on the property, making it almost look like the world was on fire. The warm glow behind the beautiful stranger made her look ethereal almost, her eyes watery and cheeks flushed. At her feet was a cardboard box packed to the brim with fruits and vegetables. All at once Ellie became startlingly aware of the fact that she looked like absolute hammered shit. Her hair was a frizzy mess, her skin was paler than it had ever been before, and she was wearing an old NASA shirt and dingy sweatpants. If she noticed her disheveled appearance she didn’t show it. 

The smile that she beamed in Joel’s direction didn’t quite reach her eyes, and a strange sense of understanding flickered in Ellie’s gaze as she took a few inquisitive steps forward. Ellie Williams knew what suffering was like; true suffering. Looking at her was like looking in a mirror, her well hidden misery plain as day to the auburn haired female. 

“Sorry I’m so late, Mr Miller. My truck was giving me problems.” Her voice was beautiful. Melodic in a way that Ellie’s wasn’t. 

Spring. . . this girl was spring incarnate. 

And she was lying through her teeth. 

She’d been crying. Ellie could tell. Still, Joel was already peeking his head out of the door, looking in the direction of where she had parked. 

“I could take a look at it for you.” He was being dismissed with a small wave of your hand before he could even get the words fully out. 

“That’s so nice of you, but I’ve got it cranking up again. It shouldn’t give me any more trouble today.” Her hair fell off of her shoulder as she leaned down to pick up the box.

Ellie moved forward without thinking, picking up the heavy box for the girl before her fingers could even grip the sides of the cardboard. “Here, let me get it.” She said, craning her neck up so that she could speak directly to the woman. 

There wasn’t a single thing about you that Ellie found undesirable. In that moment she was completely certain that you were the most beautiful woman she had ever seen, even with the pain and memory that swirled behind your bright eyes. Their eyes locked, and much to Ellie’s embarrassment, she held her gaze. She watched her with the same sort of silent appreciation. 

“-I think it would be good for her. What do you say?” Ellie hadn’t noticed that Joel had been talking the entire time. 

The woman blinked a few times, tearing her eyes away from Ellie. “Huh? I’m sorry, do you mind repeating that?” She was nervously tucking a few strands of unruly hair behind her ear, shifting in place on the front porch. 

“I was just saying that Ellie is going to be staying out here with me. I think working with you on the farm would be good for her. It would help her to get out of the house, and I know you’ve been pretty busy since it’s just you running things now.” Joel put a hand on Ellie’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Supportive. Non-judgemental. He was reminding her what would be good for her mental state right now, and having something to do with her hands would certainly help to take her mind off of things. 

“O-Oh!” The girl’s lips parted in shock, her eyes flickering between the two of them. “Yeah, I don’t see why not. I get a pretty early start though, so don’t feel obligated to wake up as early as I do.” 

“I’ll wake up.” Ellie said quickly, nodding her head. 

Her words held a tone of desperation and it had Joel’s head whipping around in her direction. He probably wasn’t expecting her to be so supportive of his last minute idea. She couldn’t be sure if it was because she genuinely wanted to get her mind off of things or if the farm girl’s looks had anything to do with her enthusiasm. Ellie couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt drawn to someone like this. Relationships were the last thing on her mind these days. 

“Can you start tomorrow?” The other girl asked, shoving her hands into her front pockets. 

Adorable. She was adorable. Ellie felt her breath hitch and all she could do was nod as an answer for your question. 

“Alright. . . “She began to trail off, backing up a few steps on the porch. It seemed like you were in a bit of a hurry. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” 

“Tomorrow.” Ellie repeated back to her. 

She leaned back, lifting the box higher up on her chest so that she could watch the woman get back into her mud stained pickup truck. She only took a step back when Joel started to close the door on her. 

“So you’re actually fine with that? I didn’t think you would go for it, honestly.” Joel rubbed at his stubbled chin, flashing her a small smile of approval. 

“There’s no way I want to be stuck in a house with your ass all hours of the day.” Ellie quipped, walking to the kitchen so that she could place the vegetables on the countertop. 

“I think workin’ there would be good for the both of you. That poor girl has had an awful year. . . I think you’d be good for each other. She needs a friend.” Joel’s voice was somber as he followed her into the kitchen. 

Ellie turned to face the older man, swallowing hard as he leaned against the doorway. He was being a bit cryptic. It seemed like he didn’t want to be the one to tell Ellie the girl’s business. Still, she was curious, and she didn’t want to be blind sided tomorrow just in case she wanted to talk about it. Ellie wasn’t usually nosey, but she had a strong urge to get to know her. 

“What do you mean by that?” Ellie’s first guess was that she had to be going through some sort of divorce. Joel had mentioned the fact that she was on her own now, so coming to that conclusion was natural. 

“No, nothin’ like that,” He cleared his throat before pushing off of the door frame, slowly beginning to unload the box's contents. “She lost her girlfriend and her father this year. She’s the kindest girl. . . you’d never know how much she’s sufferin’ based on how she acts.” 

“Oh.” Ellie frowned, having realized that your mourning must be the reason for your sad, sad eyes. She understood how it felt to lose so many people so close together. Better than anyone, really.

“Oh.” 

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[celiastjamesoscar]

Clean

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: when Natasha comes back hurt from a mission, she lets you clean her wounds.

Warnings: fluff, light cussing, mentions of sex, jokes about kidnapping, reader being a menace

My Masterlist

Word Count: 3.6K

AN: this is probably the softest fic I have ever written 💀

The sound of soft footsteps echoed throughout the compound as Natasha made her way into the kitchen. She quietly opened a cabinet and grabbed a bowl along with the box of Raisin Bran. She set the bowl down on the island before moving to the fridge and grabbing some milk, and then she made herself a bowl of cereal.

Today had been one of the rougher missions she's been on; it was supposed to be a simple bag and grab, but Hydra agents had gotten the drop on them, and she came back battered and bruised. Along with the bruises, Natasha had minor cuts littering her body, and a small jolt of pain ran through her body every time she moved.

You had warned Natasha not to go on the mission; it sounded too easy. And now, as she sat on the couch and rewatched her comfort episodes of New Girl, she wished that she had listened to you. You were always the wiser one in the relationship, and Natasha sometimes hated that about you. You would always try and talk her out of doing risky missions and she rarely listened to you. She was scared to face your wrath, so she wasted as much time as possible before entering your shared bedroom.

You had joined the Avengers as a surgeon; you were one of the country's best and met Natasha during one of her missions. She was undercover at a bar in Italy when she saw you.

It was a rowdy Friday night, and Natasha’s target was at the same bar. You had accidentally bumped into her, causing her to ruin her dress, and naturally, she was bitchy with you for it. You ushered out a plethora of apologies; you told her that you were only here because your friend had dragged you here but then left once she found someone to hook up with, causing you to be stressed, and that’s why you accidentally ran into her.

You bought her a drink as an apology, and she gladly accepted it. You wanted to talk to her, but she told you she had some business to take care of once she saw her target leave the building.

“See you in a minute, yeah?” She asked once she finished her drink and placed her hand on your arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Of course,” you replied, smiling as you watched the redhead leave the bar. Natasha was a willow, and she bent right to your wind, begging you to take her hand and meet her after dark.

Naturally, you didn’t see the woman again, and you felt ashamed for getting your hopes up. Eventually, you saw Natasha again in the same bar, and this time, she bought you a drink. The two of you conversed back and forth about your lives, even though you suspected she wasn’t telling you the whole truth about her job.

“I do background checks at the Smithsonian Museum in Washington,” Natasha said as she sipped her drink. You lightly laughed at her words but didn’t pry; you knew she was lying because her forest-green eyes refused to meet yours for over three seconds. You told her that you were a surgeon at one of the hospitals in New York City, and when she asked what specialty you are, you told her trauma.

The pair talked into the hours of the night, and when it came time to leave, Natasha asked you for your number, and you happily gave it to her. You spent one more week with Natasha before you returned to New York, and it was the best week of your life. You went on lunch dates with her every day she was free, and you quickly bonded with the woman.

When it came time for you to leave, you kissed Natasha’s cheek as you stood outside her apartment with a bouquet of lavender and violets. “I’m heading back to New York at 3 today, and I just wanted to say goodbye before I left,” you said with a smile, but your eyes had pain in them as you handed Natasha her flowers. She smiled at them and welcomed you into her apartment while she put them in flowers. The apartment was bare of any photos except a few that you could tell were of a fake family near the fireplace in the living room.

Take-out containers were in the trash can, while the fridge had a scarce amount of food in it. You weren’t naïve; all the signs you had picked up on that Natasha was a spy. You had dipped your toes in this line of work before; you had worked with Interpol for a year and a half before switching to medicine, so you knew all the signs.

When Natasha returned after putting the flowers in a vase, she invited you to watch a movie with her until your flight, and you gladly accepted it. When the clock hit one, you pulled your head up from Natasha’s lap and grabbed your things. “See you in a minute, Natasha,” you said as you kissed her cheek again and disappeared down the hallway.

Naturally, when Natasha returned to the States, she ran your name across all kinds of databases, and eventually, she found you. She read your file a dozen times: graduated high school as the valedictorian with enough college credit to be an incoming sophomore, finished a year early in criminal Justice, and soon worked with Interpol as a spy. You spent 18 months with Interpol before an injury threw you out, and that’s when you switched to medicine.

Just like high school, you graduated at the top of your class and got an internship at one of the best prestigious hospitals in the country. You’ve been there for roughly a year now, but you were one of the best residents there.

You weren’t even back home for three weeks when an agent from SHIELD asked you if you would like a job offer at Stark Tower. At first, you were a bit shocked at the offer, but when you entered the first floor of the Stark Building, and you saw your redhead, you knew it was her doing.

“It’s nice to see you again,” Natasha said with a sly grin as she led you through the luxurious building and toward a room with ‘T. Stark’ on the name mantle beside the door. You give her a questioning look before entering the room. “Good luck,” Natasha said gently before leaving you alone with the genius, billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist.

The interview went well, aside from the fact that Tony kept hitting on you, and you were offered the job of a head surgeon. The salary was definitely an increase, and it had much better benefits than your old job, plus, you would get to see Natasha a lot more, so of course you took the offer.

One week into your new job and Natasha asked you on a date. It was nothing fancy; a picnic date on the top of Stark Tower, but you would be lying if it weren’t the best date you’d ever been on. You two talked and drank a bottle of Dom Perignon deep into the night, and when it was time to go your separate ways, Natasha pulled you into a soft and gentle kiss. It’s been eight months since Natasha started calling you hers, and she’s never been happier.

However, as she recalls all the happy memories since the start of your beautiful and gentle relationship, she gets called back into reality when she hears soft footsteps echo off the walls. She held her breath and prepared for the scolding that she would inevitably receive, but to her surprise, it was Wanda up looking for a light night snack. “Trouble in paradise?” Wanda asked as she grabbed her own stash of pop-tarts; no one dared to mess with Thor’s.

Natasha sighed at Wanda’s words; the poor girl was on the same mission as her, and Wanda knew how badly Natasha was banged up. “No, I just know that Y/N is going to have my head when she sees how bad it is,” Natasha said with a defeated sigh as Wanda walked over to her.

The Sokovian placed her hand on Natasha’s shoulder and gently squeezed it, “I wish you the best of luck with your lady; may your survival be long,” Wanda joked as she walked off.

“May your death be quick,” Natasha mumbled under her breath once Wanda left the room. She finished up her cereal and cleaned the bowl and spoon before she tipped-toed to your shared bedroom. The Russian quietly opened the door and gently climbed into bed, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you into her. You sighed at the contact before subconsciously nudging your head into your girlfriend’s neck.

“Where were you?” You mumbled into the crook of Natasha’s neck before kissing her clothed collarbone. “I had an amazing day, love. I’m so glad you asked,” Natasha joked as she pulled you closer and kissed the top of your head.

You groaned at Natasha’s words before nudging your head against the redhead’s chest. “Life360 said you got home an hour ago, Nat. So where were you?” You asked as sleep left your body. Natasha knew that this conversation could go one of two ways: she could be honest with you and have you scold her, or she could lie and have you not find out until training in the morning and then have you scold her. “I'm cheating on you,” Natasha lied.

“Seriously, Natasha? I'm not going to fall for that,” you stated. The last time she had pulled that was when she snuck out at midnight to watch Barbie with Clint. When she told you she was cheating on you, you went ballistic; you were on the verge of throwing her off a cliff until you saw a pink box in her purse backpack.

“Natasha, what’s this?” You had asked as you made your way over toward her bag. She tried to stop you, but you were too quick, and you pulled out a Barbie doll from its box. “Did you go watch Barbie without me?”

“Y/N, I love you so much, but this was the only time Clint could go with me. You are so beautiful,” Natasha said while making her way over to you. “I bought you the Barbie and car the theater was selling.”

You scoffed at Natasha’s words before setting the Barbie down on your dresser along with the car. “I want to wrap my hands around your neck and not let go, but I’m going to let it slide: on one condition,” you stated as you walked back to Natasha and stopped before her.

“Yes, anything.”

“I get to be on bottom for a week, no questions asked.”

“Deal.”

See, Natasha was one of those people who will lie only when the truth sounds like a lie, and you quickly found that out after that incident.

Pulling back from the memory, Natasha wrapped her arms around you tighter and whispered, “Promise me you won’t get mad?”

“Depends on what it is,” you replied. Natasha took a deep breath and kissed your head once and then twice before speaking, “The mission went a little south today, but I’m okay.”

At the mention of the mission going wrong, you pushed yourself up and the bed and turned on the lamp next to the bed. “What happened, Natasha? Are you alright? I swear to god if someone hurt you,” you trailed off at the end at the thought of losing your lover. “I’m fine, detka. Don’t worry,” Natasha replied as she gently grabbed your hands at the hems of her shirt.

“Natasha,” you warned as your eyes pierced the other soul; she knew you could be intense, especially regarding her safety and well-being. The Russian groaned at your words before allowing you to take her shirt off, and her heart broke at the small gasp that left your lips.

“I told you it’s not bad,” Natasha joked as you pulled her into the bathroom and flipped on the lights. You motioned for her to sit on the sink while you looked through the cabinets for a first aid kit. Now that you were in better lighting, you could see all the cuts and bruises that littered your other half’s body. There was hardly enough skin that wasn't either turning a dark purple or that didn’t have a cut on it; you didn’t know whether to scold her for being so reckless or to cherish her for still being here with you.

Deciding to go with both, you gently cupped Natasha’s cheeks and pulled her into a loving kiss expressing all your love for her. She kissed you back as she wrapped her arms around your waist and slid off the sink. “I love you,” Natasha murmured against your lips as her breath fanned your lips. You kissed the words and pulled back, “I love you too, but I cannot believe you got this hurt and didn’t tell me about it! Now, get back on the sink so I can take care of you,” you said as you opened the first aid kit.

You grabbed some peroxide and put it on a cotton ball before gently pressing it against a cut on Natasha’s lower abdomen. Natasha hissed at the sting and gripped the sink’s edge as she groaned. “I told you to be careful,” you remarked as you set the cotton ball down and put some Neosporin on a bandit. “Yeah, yeah,” Natasha mumbled.

“Tell you what, for every cut I clean up, you get a kiss?” You proposed as you gently placed the bandit on Natasha’s cut. The redhead smiled at this proposition and tried to pull you into another kiss, but you put a finger to her lips, stopping her advances, “Nuh-uh, you’ve already gotten yours for this cut.”

The woman threw her hand back and groaned at your words, “Why do you hate me?” She exclaimed. You scoffed at her words as you grabbed another cotton ball and put peroxide on it, “I don’t hate you; I’m just not letting you bend the rules,” you said with a playful smile as you ignored how Natasha mumbled something under her breath.

When you placed the cotton ball on a cut near Natasha’s collarbone, applying more pressure than needed, she hissed and pushed you away from her, “Ow! What the fuck was that?!”

You rolled your eyes at Natasha’s comment before grabbing her shoulder with your left hand to keep her in place as you pressed the ball back onto her skin. “Stop being a baby, Nat, and let me clean your wounds,” you replied with a slight chuckle, causing Natasha to smack your arm. “Hey! Do not hit me, you little shit!”

“Don’t call me a baby, then!” Natasha retorted, refusing to let you clean her wounds again. You scoffed at her words and put the first aid kit back in the cabinet, and walked off to bed, “Fine, then. If you aren’t going to let me take care of you, I guess you just have to have Doctor Lee take care of you.”

Natasha froze at the mention of Doctor Lee. She’s only been to him once since you started working here, and she hated every second of it. You had the day off and were having dinner with a friend when you got a call from Natasha.

“Excuse me for a second,” you said to your friend while exiting the dining table. “What’s up, my love?” You asked when you stepped outside the restaurant and answered the phone. You had expected Natasha to ask if you would pick her up some food or maybe even ask if she could top tonight, but you didn’t expect her to scream in Russian about Doctor Lee. You had picked up a little Russian just from being around Natasha, so you knew the basic of what had happened: she had gotten a small cut on a mission that required stitches, and Lee made the cut worse, so Natasha had to get more stitches than needed and Lee complained about how rude Natasha was to her face.

Doctor Lee was a grumpy older man but was the best doctor you had ever worked with, so everyone put up with his attitude. You listened to Natasha rant about him for another five minutes before you interrupted her, “Natasha, I love you so much, but I’m going to need to get back to Kate before she thinks I left her,” you said with a small laugh when you heard Natasha groan. “Fine, let’s just hope I don’t bleed out all over our floor, and you have to clean it up,” she replied in an upset tone.

You rolled your eyes at her comment as you walked back into the restaurant, “you will be fine until I get back. If it’s that bad, I’m sure Lee can help you again.”

“He’s the one who got me into this mess!” Natasha yelled into the phone.

“Ah, so it must have been him who stabbed you then?”

The phone was silent for a few seconds before Natasha replied, “Yes.”

“Oh my god, you leave that poor man alone! He’s brilliant,” you said as you sat down at your table and across from Kate, who sent you a knowing smile. She was friends with Natasha’s sister, and she knew that the sisters shared a similar trait of exaggerating things.

“Just because he’s smart doesn’t mean he’s a good person,” Natasha retorted.

“I guess you’re right. I’ll talk to you when I get home, okay? I love you.”

“That’s if I don’t bleed out and die,” Natasha mumbled into the phone before adding with excitement, “I love you too,” before hanging up.

Natasha shook off the painful memory when she heard you get into bed and shut off the lamp. “Hey, Y/N. Wait,” Natasha said as she walked into the bedroom and sat beside you, touching your hip. “Please don’t make me go to Lee.”

You rolled over and faced Natasha, your face heating up as her hand was now on your lower abdomen, and you had to fight back your thoughts. “Are you going to complain?” You questioned. Natasha shook her head and prayed that you would finish cleaning her wounds; she would rather die than return to Lee. “Okay,” you said as you moved from the bed and walked back into the bathroom with Natasha on your heels.

“Do I still get kisses for every cut cleaned?” Natasha asked as she sat on the sink. “Maybe, if you behave,” you replied with a playful smirk as you got out the first aid kit again.

You repeated the same actions with the cotton ball as you did moments earlier and lightly pressed it onto a small cut on Natasha’s shoulder. “Do you remember when we first met?” Natasha asked randomly as you placed a bandaid on her cut. “Mhm,” you replied as you quickly kissed the Russian’s lips, holding up to your end of the deal, “the bar in Italy.”

“Yeah, but do you remember when we met again in the bar?”

You weren’t quite sure where Natasha was going with this, but you wanted to play along. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

The redhead hissed when she felt the sting of peroxide seep into her cut as you pressed the cotton against her skin. You noticed how her eyes looked everywhere but you and how she played with her fingers in her lap; she was nervous about something, and you had no idea why. “I went to that bar every single night after I first saw you,” Natasha admitted after you placed another bandaid on her.

You laughed at her words and her nervousness. “Natasha, you literally stalked me and basically kidnapped me after knowing me for a week! Why are you so nervous to admit you also stalked the bar looking for me?”

“I did not stalk you!” Natasha defended, “I just missed you so much; I searched everywhere for you and didn’t stop until I found you. And I didn’t kidnap you. You were 24 years old!”

“Mhm, if you say so, you can still kidnap an adult,” you replied as you threw away the ball and kissed Natasha again, “that looks like all the serious ones.”

Natasha frowned at your comment; she didn’t enjoy you cleaning the cuts, but she wanted the reward of your kisses. “No, I think I have some more on my back,” your girlfriend replied.

You pulled her off the sink by her hands and turned her around; there were tiny cuts over her back and some light bruises, but nothing that needed cleaning. You pressed your pointer finger into a bruise that was turning purple, “nope, looks good.”

The pain that shot through Natasha’s back when you dug your finger into her bruise was something she would never forget; she would be on her deathbed and still remember that feeling. She ducked away from your finger and turned around, “What the fuck is wrong with you?! That hurt!”

“That’s what you get for ‘adultnapping’ me,” you replied as you put up the first aid kit and left the bathroom. The older woman was right on your heels after turning off the lights, “Don’t act like it wasn’t the best crime ever.”

The sound of laughter bounced around the room as you climbed into bed and opened your arms for Natasha, and she quickly crawled into your grasp, laying her head on your chest. “We were jet-set; Bonnie and Clyde, huh?” You replied and placed a kiss on Natasha's head. “Mhm. I’m just glad you didn’t turn me in for the crime,” Natasha mumbled against your collarbone as sleep slowly took her.

“Of course not, my love,” you replied as you kissed Natasha’s head and rubbed her back as sleep consumed you; slowly drifting off with the love of your life in your arms.

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

AN: I rushed this and I kinda hate it but oh well 💀

#natasha romanoff #natalia romanova #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #marvel #black widow #natalia romanoff

[softtdaisy]

hellu lando with it's okay, just breathe.

I LOVE your writing, you deserve all the celebration love!

Pairing: Lando Norris x female!reader

Words: 1020

A/n: the fact i went over 1k words for a story i don’t feel confident about is crazy. I really hope you will like it, i’ve never write about Lando before so it’s a first try  

Dating Lando was like living in a new sitcom episode every single day. Even when he was away for the championship and you couldn’t travel with him, he found a way to make your day better. A call, a message, the stupidest joke ever or the cutest proof of love. 

There were some bad days, of course. But somehow, the sun always seemed to shine even in the darkest sky. 

You could write a whole book about your boyfriend. 

You really considered doing it these past days. Being away from him for too long was getting harder for you. It was really like missing a half of yourself when he was in another country or, worse, in another continent. No amount of calls was making for the lack of waking up with him by your side.

“You realize that one day you’re going to deal with me every day for the rest of your life? Shouldn’t you enjoy your free time while you can?” he told you on the phone after you admitted being sad about him leaving early for Canada. He hasn’t even been home since Spain and he was already leaving.

“Well right now, I miss you, idiot.”

“Well I miss you too, dummy.” 

It was probably one of the quickest decisions you’ve ever made. After waking up again feeling alone and sad without the man you loved, you booked a flight for Montréal during the afternoon to see him. You didn’t even tell anyone, except for Max, Lando’s best friend, to make sure at least one person would be aware of your trip. You wanted to surprise your boyfriend.

You had no idea that this would become one of the most stressful days for him.

When Lando woke up on the other side of the world, you were already up in the air. He didn’t question why you weren’t answering his texts. He knew that when you were working, you tended to be so focused that you forget about the world around you. He also knew that he could call you if he was worried because that was the only thing that would make you pick up your phone. 

Somehow, Lando felt like something was off. He could put his finger on what.

If he was a fan of media duties, he couldn’t focus on anything today. His laugh sounded fake, he wasn’t smiling as much. “If something is wrong, you can tell me.” Oscar reassured him after he had to handle every interview that morning.

But he didn’t say anything. Lando wasn’t the kind to cry on anyone’s shoulder for nothing. He didn’t want to bother his teammate for just a feeling. 

Then it became more than a feeling when he still couldn’t reach you. 

You were supposed to be home. Or heading home. Anyway, you would have answered Lando’s texts already. But you didn’t.

He tried to call you. But you didn’t answer.

He asked Carlos to call you too, knowing he was one of the few drivers to have your number. But you didn’t answer either.

“Something wrong?” Carlos asked him but he refused to say anything. If he kept it to himself, it wouldn’t be real, right?

So Lando did the worst thing he could have done, he knew that. He went to the practices with fear and stress. He couldn’t think about the race or the cars or his whole career. Fuck that. All he cared about was you. He did so many mistakes he couldn’t even imagine the number of comments on social media about him being done or whatever these stupid opinions were saying. The team was already giving him a hard time on the radio.

When Lando got out of the car, he felt like he saw a ghost. Expect it wasn’t one.

It was you. Standing in the middle of the garage.

It took him a few seconds to realize that he wasn’t dreaming, that it wasn’t his mind giving him what he wanted to see. You were here. For real. Not home. But here with him.

Lando then ran to you and took you in his arms. “Oh wow I didn’t expect that to be so welcoming.” you laughed in his ears. Knowing him, you were convinced he would make a joke about you being here at the same time as his mistress. Or that you should take a shower, when he was the one dirty after racing. 

Not that he would hug you that tight. You felt him bringing him to his room and you followed him, quite perplexed on why he was reacting like that. 

It wasn’t until you were alone that you noticed he was shivering against you. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” you asked him, moving your head to see his sad face. You barely ever saw him being that miserable around you.

“You’re here…” he replied, breathless. You took his face between your hands.

“it's okay, just breathe,” you put your forehead against his and felt him relaxed slowly. 

“You didn’t answer me and I thought something had happened. I couldn’t call you, I couldn’t reach you and I thought you were… I can’t imagine my life without you!” 

“I’m not planning on leaving you.” you replied with a sweet smile, giving him a soft kiss on his lips. Lando always said that your lips had some calming power. And he wasn’t wrong. You could feel relaxed after that, like it was the proof he needed to be sure you were really here.

You spent some long minutes together in the silence. Now that he was accepting that nothing had happened to you and that you were here, for real, he was enjoying your presence. You gave him small kisses in the hair, the one he loved when he had a terrible weekend. It felt quite the same for once.

“I’m taking notes that you don’t like surprises.” you whispered in his hair.

“Not the one where I think I’m losing the love of my life, dummy.”

“Love of my life and dummy in the same sentence? What a pretty love language, Norris.” 

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris story #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris angst #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fic #f1 fanfic #f1 angst #f1 story #f1 imagine #f1 #my writing

[yourmomxx]

Sweet Child O’ Mine

father of mine masterlist

summary: It’s time for Dean to face what he has been so afraid of the entire time. Meanwhile, the monster that has already taken one young man’s life, is on its way to claim the next one

warnings: canon violence, child abandonment, swear words, angst, daddy issues, character death, throwing up, this is written like an episode of Supernatural

word count: 11,2k (whoops)

disclaimer: What I know about Group Homes is what I know from my country (and Google), so I apologize if I made any mistakes

pt1 pt2 pt3

@psycho-magnotheric-slime

Now

The cafeteria was loud. The mixed noise of talking children and clattering dishes and cutlery filled the air, creating a yet bearable loudness.

You were sat at one of the light blue tables, across from you your best friends Cassandra Claire and Finnegan Beckett.

Cass and Finn.

She was lowly cursing at the paper straw in her apple juice box and a few strands of her black bangs slipped into her view. The wolf cut, which had been so present a few months ago, was now already grown out and even the shortest strands of Cass’s hair were reaching her shoulders.

Finn seemed caught up in his own world as he carefully laid out little figures and symbols with his french fries. He still had a few, slightly red acne spots lingering on his skin, amongst freckles covering his nose and cheeks. His hair was flaming red, just as Roy’s had been, but other than him Finn usually hid the tousled locks under a cap.

Roy. The news of his death had hit the three of you hard. You had been a friendgroup of four, Roy and Finn, and Cass and you.

Almost a week ago you had been eating lunch at this exact table, the seat to your right had been taken, laughing about terrible jokes, bickering, and not even considering it all to end as soon as it did.

And especially how it did.

Roy’s body was still lying at the morgue. The authorities had kept it there for ‘further investigation purposes’ as they had said, so no funeral had been possible yet.

Of course, the adults had introduced all of you to helping hotlines and offered their own support in case anyone wanted to talk about their feelings and their grief in the safeness of a closed room.

Not that one of you took that into consideration.

The only way you three were coping with the whole situation was through joking around and pretending none of it ever happened. Which was fine.

You and Cass had sometimes talked in the darkness of your rooms, careful and short conversations while sleeping over because neither of you wanted to spend the night alone.

But other than that? Zero. And it was alright that way. The right moment would come.

Maybe.

“Aha!” Cass suddenly yelled out triumphantly, and startled Finn out of admiring his artwork.

You looked up at her from half-heartedly poking around in your own food, as she proudly held up the apple juice that was now pierced with what looked like the abused version of a thin straw.

You gave a small clap. “Bravo” and she grinned at you before turning to Finn.

Well done, Cassie,” he sarcastically said. “You won the hard fight against the opening of a box of apple juice.”

Cass pouted and took a sip. “You don’t appreciate my victories enough, Finn. And don't call me that. Cassie.” She dramatically shuddered at the nickname.

“I’m mentally unstable, not five.”

Finn examined her perfectly done eyeliner and makeup with skeptically raised eyebrows. “You don’t look mentally unstable to me,” he remarked.

Cass gasped. “Excuse me? Prejudices??” She exclaimed.

“You see that?” She asked, frantically pointing at her face. “See how perfect my makeup is today? That's not a good thing, dumbass! Perfect makeup means that I am absolutely mentally fucked!”

You nodded supportively, and Finn just raised his eyebrows, before he dedicated his attention back to poking around in his food.

“Don't you think that's kind of ironic?” He pointed out, and Cass simply ignored him, except for the tiny eye roll she gave.

“Guys, I need your help deciding what color I'm going to dye my hair next,” she changed the topic instead and desperately ran her hands through her hair.

Finn’s head whipped around, back to his friend. “You're honestly thinking about dying your hair right now?” He asked incredulously.

She groaned and threw him a look.

“No, Finnegan, I am not actively thinking about dying my hair, but I sense a mental breakdown coming and if I'm going to absolutely lose my shit and take it out on my hair, I want the result to look good. Otherwise, we are met with that weird yellow-green-combination again.” Cass let her body shudder dramatically.

“I liked the yellow-green-combination,” you interjected.

Cass reached over the table to lay her hand above yours and looked up at you with sweet eyes. “Thanks, hun.”

“I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of it,” mumbled Finn, his mouth stuffed full of fries. “Just leave them black.”

“I don’t think you quite understood how a mental breakdown works, man,” you said.

Finn shrugged and dipped a frie into his ketchup. “Whatever.��

You looked at Cass. “I’ll go shopping with you soon and then we will choose a color together,” you promised.

“Thanks,” she said and eyed Finn, “at least someone who cares if I ruin my good looks or not.”

But Finn didn’t hear her, or maybe he just ignored what she was saying. Because he changed the topic.

“Did the FBI agents get a hold of you guys yet?” He suddenly asked.

Your eyebrows shot up in confusion. “The what?”

“The FBI agents,” Finn repeated.

“Why, thank you, I got that part, but what is the FBI doing here?”

Cass just shrugged her shoulders. “Apparently they are here investigating Roy's murder.”

“What, they think someone murdered him?” You asked in disbelief.

“Well, he will not have crushed his ribs all on his own now, will he?” Finn drew a heart shape with the remaining ketchup on the plate.

“It's better than the state police,” retorted Cass, “who still think that it was some kind of ... animal attack.”

You snorted. “Yeah, right, because a bear sneaking into a castle, pushing down on someone's chest and then just leaving seems so plausible.”

Your friends raised their eyebrows in agreement.

“What did they ask you guys?” You closed your waterbottle and absentmindedly started cleaning up your plate.

Cass shrugged and leaned back in her chair with crossed arms. “Not much, the usual, I guess,” she answered, “Wanted me to tell them some things about Roy, his behavior lately, who would have wanted to hurt him…” She trailed off.

“Same here. Routine stuff,” Finn said. Then he leaned a bit closer and lowered his voice.

“To be honest, I don't really care why they're here, they are both incredibly handsome.”

“Finn!” You and Cassandra exclaimed at the same time.

“What?!” The boy widened his arms in defense. “Let me enjoy the one good thing that came from Roy's death.”

Cass shoved him in response. “God, you are a manwhore!” She grumbled.

Finn rubbed his arm with an offended pout on his lips and you giggled. “Geez, we must seem so fucked up, our best friend got murdered and here we are, joking about his death.” You shook your head lightly.

“It's what he would have wanted.” Cass scooted a bit closer on her seat and took both yours and Finn’s hand in acted solemnity.

“If I die,” she vowed, “you are now officially allowed to joke about my death as much as you want. On any occasion.”

“Sick!” You called out and Cass smirked.

“Can we please get back to the part where she said if?” Finn pointed out.

Cass rolled her eyes and pulled back.

“I'm a witch, after all,” she reminded him with a threatening silken voice that had a tone of mockery. “And one day, I will figure out the secret of necromancy, just you wait.”

Finn scoffed and grinned. “Right, you with your crystals, and your smokey sticks and your herbs and tarot cards.”

He wiggled his fingers in front of her face. “That's some real serious stuff you got there, Cass.”

She pushed him away. “Yeah, keep making fun of it. We'll see who has the last laugh when I turn immortal and outlive all of you idiots.”

Finn shook his head. He looked at you and pointed his forefinger to his temple, moving it in circles to indicate what he held of her words.

You shook your head grinning, and Cass, who noticed the interaction, promptly took Finn’s sugar-glazed donut and dumped it in his untouched mayonnaise.

"Ew! Jesus, Cass, you are disgusting!" Finn yelled as he stared at the disaster.

She just shrugged and was quick to eat her own food before he would get any ideas.

For a while, it was quiet. You continued cleaning and sorting your lunch plate, while Cass ate and Finn and her did not speak a word to each other.

It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, though, just a break from conversation.

Eventually, Cass was the one to break it.

“So, uhm, did you guys, like - I mean, have you been thinking about Roy, too? Or, like, dreaming or something?” With every word her voice got more quiet until it was only a low mumble, drifting apart in the busy noise around.

But still everything she said managed to pierce through the air and directly into your heart.

“Why would you bring that up?” Finn asked through gritted teeth, he almost sounded mad.

Cass avoided eye contact with both of you and pressed the palms of her hands against her forehead, as if to stop it from giving her incredible pain.

“I’ve been having those horrible nightmares, since it happened,” she sighed in despair.

“It’s the same thing over and over again. I see something going into his room, but when I try to open the door, it’s locked. And I hit it, and I scream, but there’s just no sound coming out of my mouth. And when the door finally opens, there he is, lying on the bed, just-”

A heavy clatter interrupted her monologue and made you flinch. Finn had thrown his fork onto his dinner plate.

“Didn’t ask about fucking details, Cassandra,” he hissed lowly, stood up and walked away with his tray in hand.

Cass looked after him as he left and put her head in her hands with a groan.

“I didn’t mean to upset him,” she mumbled into the fabric of her sleeve.

“I know,” you said. She raised her head. You gave her a sympathetic smile.

“D’you think he hates me now?”

You shook your head no. “He’s just grieving. We all are. He will get himself together again, promise.”

For a second, her lips quirked up in a small smile.

“Come on,” you said then and swung your leg over the bench, standing up. “We’ve been sitting here for far too long anyways.”

You took your tray and Cass was quick to follow you and put the dirty dishes away.

“I didn’t have any, by the way.” Confused, she looked at you.

“Nightmares,” you added.

Cass nodded. “Yeah, didn’t think so.” She shrugged. “Guess I’ll deal with this the same way I deal with everything: completely and utterly alone.”

You jokingly shoved her at her theatrics, and she grinned. “Shut up. I’ll be damned if I let you deal with any of this on your own. Got me?”

She laid a hand upon her heart and the other on your shoulder. “You’re so sweet,” she said. “And I suppose that also includes helping me study for my biology exam which I have definitely already studied for?”

You pulled back and inhaled sharply, pretending to think. “Ah ma’am, I am afraid this feature is not included in your subscription. We apologize for any discomfort this may bring.”

“It brings a great deal of discomfort!” Cass exclaimed while you two walked the hallway to your rooms.

“You can write me an email-complaint,” you joked. “No guarantees though. You’ve had like two weeks to study for that one.”

“I know, I know, but it’s so endlessly boring and complicated!” she cried.

You shrugged. “There’s a reason I didn’t take the AP class.”

“And I will forever envy you for it.”

You stopped when you reached the two doors to your bedrooms that laid right across of each other.

“Then,” you said and bowed lightly, “farewell my friend. May your head not explode while rehearsing for the terribly difficult school subject that is AP biology.”

She flipped you off and disappeared into her room. Laughing to yourself, you opened the door and slipped into your own.

༺ ｡ ° ୨❀୧ ° ｡ ༻

Central Nebraska 2007

The past few hunting days had been rough. Sam and Dean had driven from one case to the next without a break, been beaten up by an entire pack of werewolves and hunted down a loose chupacabra outside of its usual territory.

Dean was beyond exhausted. His muscles ached, his head was pounding, and the lack of sleep was weighing his limbs down. He was practically dragging himself over the gravel path, before he swung open the door to Harvelle’s Roadhouse.

The air that hit them from inside was stuffy, warm, and smelt like sweat and alcohol. Low but loud enough music fell into an uncoordinated melody with loud chatter and the clinking of glass.

Dean felt like he had never experienced something more beautiful, after the weeks he’s had.

“Deeeeeannnn!”

He heard the excited cry of his name before he saw where it came from. He spotted a bright sundress on a small girl, and out of instinct crouched down as she sped towards him.

With a grunt, Dean picked her up in his arms mid sprint and lifted her up. Behind him, Sam closed the door again as Dean made his way over to the bar with little Y/N on his hip.

“How is my favorite girl today?” He asked her and she grinned at him.

“I’m good! I missed you,” she added.

Dean’s chest clammed with how much he loved her.

“Well, I’m back now, ready to give you allllll my attention. Come on, show me those fangs.” He nodded his head at her chin at his request, and Y/N drew her lips back and bared her teeth to him.

Dean held the hand that wasn’t holding her in front of his eyes and pretended to be blinded. “Wow, those are clean! I can’t even see anything.”

With a giggle, Y/N closed her mouth again and Dean blinked hard a few times.

“I brush them extra hard. Ask Auntie Ellen.”

Dean nodded. “I totally believe you. Every werewolf would be jealous of those teeth. Oh, did I say werewolf? I meant vampire, of course.”

Dean shook his head at himself, and Y/N beamed up at him with the brightest shining eyes he had ever seen.

“Good to see you again, boys,” Ellen greeted them and pulled out two glasses. “The usual?”

Sam and Dean nodded. Ellen started pouring. When Sam took his drink, he pointed somewhere in the back of the bar and said, “I’ll go have a talk with Ash.” Then he was gone.

Dean placed Y/N on one of the bar stools and took his seat next to her.

“Dean, can you play Operation with me?” Y/N asked him, and Dean stilled in his movement to take a sip of his drink. He opened his mouth to answer her, but Ellen was faster.

“Baby, let Dean rest for a bit. I’m sure these past few days haven’t been all sugar and cakes for him. Maybe later, alright?”

Y/N pouted a bit, but then shrugged and shuffled off the barstool. “Okay,” she said, and disappeared between the people, probably to the private rooms.

Dean looked after her and then turned back to Ellen with a thankful look on his face.

“Can’t believe that game is still so popular. I mean, I used to play with that in my childhood,” he said, and took a sip from his drink. The alcohol burned a bit down his throat, but it was exactly what he needed right now. Dean closed his eyes and sighed appreciatively.

“Really glad you’re back,” Ellen then told him honestly, as she opened up a beer for herself and folded her arms on the counter. “She’s been asking me nothing else than ‘When will Dean come back’ for the past few weeks. I can’t hear that sentence anymore.”

Dean chuckled and she took a sip.

“Yeah,” he dragged, and threw a look in the direction that Y/N had disappeared in. Ellen tilted her head and gave him a look he couldn’t quite read.

“You’re really good with her, ya know?” She twirled the bottle loosely on the counter. Dean avoided her inquiring gaze and looked into the liquor in his glass instead. He vaguely saw his reflection in it.

“’ve always been good with kids, I guess.” He shrugged it off.

Ellen hummed. Dean didn’t know what to make of it. He looked up at her again.

“For what it’s worth, she makes it really easy,” he said. Ellen raised her eyebrows. “To lo- to like her, I mean. She’s a great kid. You did good with her.”

Ellen sighed. “Yeah, I like to think I did. Wasn’t always easy.”

Dean nodded. A bit after they had met, Ellen had vaguely told him how she got to Y/N. How someone had just dumped the little girl, barely one year old, on her doorstep. No note, only a name and date of birth, and a blanket in the basket she had been put in.

When he had first heard the story, Dean’s hand had cramped around his beer bottle so hard his knuckles had turned white.

Stories like this about kids always got to him. But about this one? Hell, the lengths he would go to protect that little girl. She had made her way into his heart so easily, no preparation or caution, just boosted right into it with her bright smile and those happy eyes.

And Dean had never spent a day not wanting to know her.

Sometimes, when he thought about it, he thought about how easy it was. To love a kid. She wasn’t even his, but every time he had to say goodbye to her for God knows how long again, his heart broke a little more.

And he thought about how it was that easy, and how yet, somehow his father had not managed it. Had left his children alone, abandoned, in ran down motel rooms, without any contact for days and sometimes weeks. How he had felt absent, even when he was physically present, and how Dean could never do enough to feel enough for him.

It made him ache, but he had promised himself to never make anyone else feel this way. And maybe, just maybe, this little wonder he had come across was supposed to be his salvation.

“Dean, I have to tell you something.”

Somehow, the way Ellen said it, made Dean stiffen. A strange mixture of regret and hurt crossed her exes.

“It’s about your daddy,” she added.

“And about Y/N.”

༺ ｡ ° ୨❀୧ ° ｡ ༻

Now

If Sam had tried to read the different emotions that were crossing his older brother’s face right now, he would have given up as soon as he had started.

But one thing was certain, they were many, and probably none of them were good.

They stood in front of the wooden door to their last room.

Your room, to be exact.

And they stood there for the second time today, to be exact.

Maria had pointed them the numbers of the bedrooms where Roy Kendall’s friends lived, they had paid each of them a visit and asked them questions about the deceased.

None of those interrogations had proven to be useful to them, though.

Also, funny enough, it turns out that Cassandra Claire and Y/N Winchester’s room happened to lay just across the hallway from each other.

But when Sam offered to move on to her after finishing Cassandra’s questioning, Dean had not-so-smoothly avoided his question and decided he was in desperate need of some lunch.

Which is why, now, they were standing here, staring at the old wooden door with filled stomachs and angel Castiel in tow - who had decided to join them after all.

Said angel now leaned in closer to Sam and not so silently whispered, “Is he- frozen? Shall I wake him?”

Dean snorted and shook his head, as if Castiel’s words had actually woken him up from the sort of trance he had been trapped in.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, still talking into the direction of the - apparently very intimidating – wooden door.

Sam raised his eyebrows, fully aware that his brother couldn’t see him. “Well then,” he said, extending his hand to the door. “Knock.”

Dean threw a murdering look over his shoulder at his little brother and took a deep breath in, shook his shoulders.

Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He knew this had to be difficult for Dean, but he also wanted to get all of this over with. He could think of more fun things than spending his entire day in an orphanage, investigating a murder. Also, his suit was starting to get itchy.

The sound of Dean knocking at the door felt like a salvation. “Agents Shield and Stark and …” He threw Cas a look, “… Miller. We’re here to ask you some questions about the death of Roy Kendall.”

For a second, it was quiet. Then, “It’s open.”

The voice from inside made a chill run down Sam’s spine. He couldn’t imagine what his brother felt. But even if Dean was falling apart inside, he didn’t let his face show any of it.

Dean’s heart twisted with the door handle, as he pushed the door open and entered into the room. After him, Sam and Castiel entered, and Dean closed the door behind them again.

The room wasn’t big, but it had been decorated to be comfortable. In the middle of the wall to their right, a twin-sized bed with unified colors was placed, a small bedside table next to it.

To their left was a tall wardrobe that almost reached the ceiling, and under the window on the wall opposite them stood a nice desk.

And there, shuffling through some papers, stood a young teenage girl, with her back turned to them.

“Sorry about the mess, I-“ Dean’s heart skipped a beat as you turned around.

You hadn’t changed, not a bit, but had grown so much. The roundness in your features, like with all children, had gone away as you grew older. You had changed your hair, and your voice was different, but it was so unmistakably you that Dean needed a second to catch himself.

He feared his feet would buckle under him, as you looked at him with wide open eyes, those eyes that he remembered looked so much like your mother’s.

You felt your whole world tumble around you as you looked at them. At him. Your heart was speeding in your chest, a feeling spreading in your stomach as if you had been sucker punched.

This couldn’t be real, there was no way. But then again, there was no reason why it wouldn’t be. There were more epic scenarios you could have come up with to reunite with your … family. And nevertheless, you had stopped having dreams like that a long time ago. You had given up on hoping a day like this would come.

But now it was here, apparently, and it was so unspectacular, it was almost funny.

They walked in here, after years, in fancy suits and badges, wanting to know about- what exactly was it they wanted to know about?

You cleared your throat and took a deep breath, gathering yourself.

“What are you doing here?” Compared to the chaos inside of you, your voice sounded calm and collected, almost devoid of any emotion, and a part of you was proud.

Sam cleared his throat. You noticed he looked older.

Well, no shit. But more … drawn, from his experience. Trauma, maybe. You hadn’t been aware of much when you were a child, but that their work took a toll on them, that had been unmistaken.

And Sam’s eyes held a story that seemed as tragic as it seemed muddled.

“We heard about Roy Kendall’s death,” he answered.

Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline. They had heard about Roy. Did that mean they were here to-

“And we’re here to find out what killed him.”

What?

“What?”

“Yeah, we, uh-“ Sam shifted his weight awkwardly, “We don’t think it was a … natural death.”

“Well, no shit.” Roy’s chest had been cracked open. You were no coroner, but even you knew that couldn’t exactly be filed under the case of natural deaths.

Now, Dean took a small step forward, trying his best to hold eye contact with you, and your shoulders subconsciously stiffened.

“Y/N-,” he started.

“Dean,” you shot back.

And that wort was like a punch in his guts. Dean felt physically sick. But how could he expect any different really?

You noticed him stumbling slightly at the word, a look of hurt crossing over his face.

Good, you thought.

A part of you wanted to hit him in the chest, scream at him until your voice was raw, Why did you do this? Why did you leave me? When did you stop loving me?

But in the end, you didn’t.

You would rather die than give him the satisfaction of breaking down.

Why you thought he would feel satisfaction at your hurt, you didn’t know.

“So, Roy,” you simply said, something to break the pressing silence in the room.

Sam nodded. “Yes, exactly. We, uhm –“ He pointed to the third man you had never seen before, “and Castiel, we wanted to ask you a few things about him.”

You glanced at the guy in the trenchcoat, who raised his hand to do an awkward little wave. “Nice to meet you.”

“Too,” you said.

There was a silence again, until Dean took the floor. “So, he was one of your friends?” He asked, “That Roy kid?”

People had been doing it for days, yet something about them talking about one of your best friends in the past tense made your stomach turn with uneasiness.

You hummed in agreement.

“We’re sorry for your loss,” Sam said.

“Stick it,” you bit back, and crossed your arms in front of your chest. Sam and Dean exchanged a look.

“Did your friend mention anything … out of the ordinary happen, before he was killed?” The third guy, with the trenchcoat and the weird name which you had already forgotten, asked.

You clenched your jaw and something about the way Dean pressed his eyes shut in exasperation made you believe that this guy’s bluntness was something quite common.

“No,” you simply said. Trenchcoat frowned.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked, taking a slight step forward.

“Yes, I am. Roy never said anything about anything strange that would be in any way valuable to your case.”

“What do you mean by that?” Dean questioned.

You shrugged. “What I said.”

“Y/N, any information you can give us about Roy’s behavior before he died is extremely important and could really help us,” Sam urged.

Something about the way your name slipped off his tongue, with that sense of familiarity and normal, made your skin itch.

You took a deep breath and cleared your throat. “Well, I mean - he just mentioned that he was having those … terrible nightmares all of a sudden.” You shrugged. “Like I said, nothing that would be worth writing down.”

Sam did it anyways.

Dean tilted his head and looked at you quizzically. “Why would you think his nightmares were unusual? I mean, everyone has bad dreams from time to time.”

You shifted your weight uncomfortably. “Yeah, I know, but it’s just …” You paused. This was stupid. “It’s stupid, really, but – Roy doesn’t usually dream.”

Didn’t, you corrected in your head, but the word didn’t make it past your lips.

Sam and Dean looked at each other.

“And it was just strange, because he was having these nightmares frequently, or rather this nightmare, because it was always the exact same,” you keep rambling on.

“What was it about?” Dean asked.

You swept your hand across your forehead. “I don’t know, he wouldn’t talk much about it. Just said that it was like the worst day of his life replaying over and over.”

Dean nodded. Sam frowned in interest.

“Do you know what that was? The worst day of his life?”

You shrugged. “The day he lost his parents, probably,” you said. “The entire house burnt down right in front of him. He made it out, they didn’t.”

Your voice was quiet and pressed, still feeling bad about sharing such an intimate part of Roy’s history with those … strangers. A nagging part in the back of your mind kept telling you he wouldn’t – couldn’t – mind anymore.

Sam’s pen kept scraping over his notebook, and Dean threw a glimpse over his brother’s shoulder. As you watched them, your gaze fell on trenchcoat-guy, who was still positioned in the corner of your room, just a few steps behind them.

He was observing you with interest, blue eyes staring back into yours as if he was looking directly at your soul. Something like a chill ran down your spine.

The man tilted his head, as you diverted your attention back to Dean and Sam. His brows were furrowed.

Cas recognized you. He didn’t know where from, but you looked so weirdly … familiar. Your features, the shape of your face. They way you talked and moved.

“Your boyfriend is staring at me weirdly,” you mentioned to Dean, as you caught the man’s gaze again.

Dean turned his head and looked at him, then back to you. “Yeah, he tends to do that.”

You lifted your eyebrows and made an ‘Ah’ sound. Trenchcoat was getting weirder by the second. But at least the guy had stopped his creepy staring. For now.

“Look, I don’t want you guys here. But I understand that your presence is necessary in order to catch whatever it is that’s killing my friends. So, you just do your thing, look around a bit, kill something, and then leave. Both of you.”

With a look at the third guy in the trenchcoat, you added, “Three.”

Dean avoided your eyes, but Sam nodded jerkily and cleared his throat again. “Yeah, we uh … we understand that.”

He straightened his coat and turned to leave the room. “Thank you for your help for now, really. We’ll get in touch if we need anything else.”

You nodded simply, even though you didn’t exactly know what to make of that idea.

As Sam and trenchcoat-guy made their way to leave the room, Dean took a small step towards you and pulled something out of his suit jacket.

“And if there’s anything else you might remember or see, you can always give us a call.” You stared at the small paper he had handed to you. With dark blue pen, a phone number was sloppily scribbled on it. The edges of the paper were uneven, it had probably been ripped off a bigger sheet.

You pursed your lips and nodded.

“Yeah.” You didn’t know what else to say. Thank you wasn’t really in the cards right now. Dean cleared his throat and stepped back with a nod. Then, they left the room one by one.

“Have a nice day,” Sam said.

“You, too.” The answer came automatically. The door closed behind them with a click, and you were alone again.

The small paper suddenly felt incredibly heavy in your hand.

—

When Dean stepped through the threshold and out into the hallway, he felt like a heavy weight had been lifted off his chest. He took a deep breath like a man starved.

The sick feeling in his stomach still lingered.

He didn’t even wait for the click of the closing door before he started making his way to the exit, trusting that his brother and Castiel would follow.

His fast steps echoed over the hallway, when suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder yank him around. Dean was staring into the eyes of his younger brother. He shook his arm to let Sam’s hand harshly fall off.

“What?”

Sam didn’t say anything, and Dean just glared at him. It was Castiel who spoke up first. His head was tilted, eyebrows scrunched, and a curious tone in his voice.

“She is your … daughter.” It wasn’t a question. Cas had figured out the root of all of Dean’s hesitation – to come here, to stay here, to investigate. All because of one person, that he knew was so close to Dean Winchester, but yet way too far than two people with their natural bond should be.

“What gave it away?” Dean turned to Cas. His tone was bitter. “The attitude or the way she hates my guts?”

Castiel looked him up and down.

“She is so similar to you,” he stated matter-of-factly, completely ignoring Dean’s sarcastic response.

Dean exchanged an annoyed look with his little brother, who simply shrugged.

“All right, now that we’ve cleared that up,” Dean gruffed and made his way down the hallway again, “Let’s go.”

He trusted that the others followed him quietly.

When they reached the gravel path that led from the small castle to their car, Sam picked up his pace to catch up with his older brother. “Dean, I’ve been thinking.”

The man scoffed. “Oh, don’t hurt yourself like that, Sammy.”

“I’m serious.” Sam halted next to his brother and pulled him to a stop with a firm hand on his shoulder. “And I think, maybe… we should sit this one out.”

The way Sam said the last bit was careful, and Dean tilted his head as he turned to his younger brother. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m just saying, maybe this case is too personal for us, Dean. Maybe we should let some other hunter take care of it.”

Dean shook his head. “No way. This is the first time in years that I get to see my daughter, I will not just throw this away.” He lifted his index finger to point it at his brother.

“Well, what exactly is it that you want to do, Dean? It’s not like the two of you have the strongest father-daughter bond!” Sam scoffed and his arms in the air.

Dean started walking towards the impala again. “I know, and that’s why I want to make things right with her.”

“What for, Dean? Just so we leave her here, again?”

"I don’t know!” Dean whirled around in fury as he yelled the words. He slumped his shoulders.

“I don’t know, okay?” He said, his voice was smaller now. “Look, let’s just … let’s finish this case. Give me some time to figure things out and then we will decide.” Dean peeled himself out of his suit jacket and tossed it in the backseat of the impala. He slammed the door. “But first, let’s save some lives.”

Sam shook his head. “Alright. Whatever you say.” He matched Dean as he opened the door to the back and tossed his jacket on the leather seats.

“By the way, where’s Cas?”

Sam threw a look around them. He was right, the angel was nowhere to be found. He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he zapped to the motel again.”

Dean frowned as he pulled open the front door. The hinges squealed. “We need to have a serious talk with him about that. Can’t have him disappearing on me the entire time.”

Sam frowned. Dean meant them, right? Couldn’t have him disappearing on them the entire time. Us.

Right?

Sam decided to shrug his brother’s strange comment off for now and got in the passenger’s seat.

“We have to go there anyways. Do some research,” he said.

Dean hummed and started the car. Sam could about assume what that meant. The gravel gnarled under the Impala’s tires as they drove off.

—

Back alone in your room again, you sat on your desk chair as your playlist of favorite songs blasted through your headphones. Dark ink started covering your thighs, where you were drawing on them with your pen as you had placed them on the surface of the desk.

The past few minutes, your mind had been insanely occupied with processing what the actual fuck had just happened. Because. Well. What the actual fuck had just happened?

When they had knocked on your door, you had expected the normal questioning, something that Cass and Finn had been talking about anyways.

When you turned around, just to stare at the face of Dean Winchester, your mind had gone fully devoid of every thought ever formed.

The typical “heart slipping into your pants.”

It felt as if you had worked on autopilot, not even coherently remembering what you had said to them. Had your reaction been an appropriate one? After years of imagining this exact scenario, in all ways and forms it could’ve played out, you not being able to form a simple sentence had not been one of them.

In afterthought, maybe you should’ve punched Dean.

Maybe that would’ve been the appropriate response.

The sharp sound of a knock at your door made you startle. You pulled your headphones off your ears and turned the music off. Those things were great, but in all those years they had never quite managed to overpower the sounds around you.

Maybe that was why you were still allowed to wear them all the time.

“Who’s there?” You asked loudly into the room.

“Me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. The fuck? How was there not a single normal person knocking on your bedroom door today?

“Who is me?” You asked again.

The door opened just the tiniest bit, creaking in the process, and through peeked the head of the third man that had accompanied Sam and Dean earlier.

Trenchcoat guy.

“It’s me,” he repeated.

You frowned. “Uhm - come in?” You invited him and lifted your feet off the table.

Trenchcoat guy carefully shuffled in through the gap in the door until he stood in your room, awkwardly, and his stiff posture made him look so out of place, it was almost funny.

When he didn’t seem to plan on doing anything more than eyeing the bookshelf on the other wall, you decided to speak up.

“I’m sorry, but I think I forgot your name.”

Slowly, he turned his attention back to you, as if he had now just remembered that you were there. “I’m Castiel,” he answered in a deep, gravelly voice.

You raised your eyebrows. “Ah. Right.” Another beat of silence. “Are you, like - Dean’s boyfriend or something?” You asked.

Castiel frowned and tilted his head. “Me and your father are not romantically involved in any way whatsoever,” he reassured you.

“Ah,” you said again. Then, “Did Dean send you?”

Castiel shook his head, almost offended at the implication. “After our … conversation, earlier, he figured you were not too enthusiastic to see him. That is why only I am here.”

You swallowed hard. No, that wasn’t true.

“He’s damn right.”

Castiel nodded.

Then it was quiet again. “Is there … anything you need?” You dragged out, unsure of what he was planning to do in here exactly.

“Well, no, not specifically, I just - wanted to talk to you,” Castiel said, though he seemed not too secure about his purpose himself. “About your father.”

“Dean,” you corrected, but were sure Castiel didn’t miss how your shoulders stiffened at it. The man in the trenchcoat frowned and dipped his head lightly.

“Yes, your father.” He repeated.

You shook your head. “He’s not my father. He’s just Dean.”

“As I understand it, you were conceived through him and your mother having sexual intercourse, therefore-“

“Okay! Thank you,” you interrupted him and raised your hand to sign stop. “What do you want?”

Castiel took a few steps closer to you, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor as he seemed to look for the right words.

“I fear your father- Dean,” he corrected himself with a look in your direction, “does feel very bad about what happened between you and him.”

You pursed your lips. “So? Did he tell you that?”

Castiel looked sheepish. “No,” he answered honestly, “But I know your- him. Just because he does not like to talk about his feelings does not mean that he does not feel them.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Let me ask you something, Castiel,” you said. He nodded. “Anything.”

“Do you know at all what happened? Between me and him?”

Again, Castiel looked away. You did not know this man. You did not know what his history with Dean was, or with Sam. But you knew that he knew nothing.

“No.” That one word confirmed it.

You bit the inside of your cheek.

“Then - excuse my choice of words - but you have no room to talk. And if Dean wants to tell me something, he can always do that himself. In person. He’s here anyway.”

Castiel nodded. “Alright.”

It was silent again, between you and him, until Castiel took in a sharp breath and leaned forward into something close to a bow.

“I’m sure they await me,” he explained. “Goodbye, Y/N.” He then turned around to open the door, but paused mid his action.

“You do look a lot like him, you know?” He said.

That’s it.

“Out,” you ordered him harshly and Castiel walked through the door, closing it behind him.

—

You had, in fact, ended up helping Cass study for her upcoming exam. Well, what means help, you had asked her questions and she had to answer them correctly - which worked expectedly not so well.

“I can just play the dead friend card,” she had joked, but you knew that she was actually actively considering it.

In that moment though, you had just skipped over her remark and continued asking her about the digestive system of a Baird’s beaked whale.

It was already late at night when the two of you finally hugged goodbye.

“Thank you so much,” she said. “You helped a lot. I’ll forget it all until tomorrow morning, but I do appreciate your effort.”

You smiled at her. “Don’t worry, you’ll nail it. Or at least not fail.”

She laughed. “You think too highly of me, Y/N.”

For a few moments, nobody said a word. “I never asked you,” Cass eventually started, “are you okay?”

You took a deep breath and shifted your weight. “Considering the circumstances, I guess. You?”

“Same thing,” she said. You laid your head back and stared at the ceiling. “It still feels weird only being three people,” you realized.

“Yeah,” Cass agreed quietly.

A few beats of silence passed, until you got yourself back together and shook your body as if to shake off your grief.

“But whatever,” you sighed. “Can’t change that now, can we?”

You looked at Cass and she hummed with a dull shrug, seeming lost in her own thoughts.

She absentmindedly opened her bedroom door, but just as she wanted to disappear into the room, you grabbed her arm to stop her for a second.

“By the way, about your nightmares,” you said, “maybe you can take some pills against that, if it gets too much. Unregulated sleep is probably worse than no sleep.”

Cass managed a tired smile. “Will try, thanks. Goodnight babes, love you,” she threw you a kiss.

“Love you too, good night,” you said back and smiled at her, waiting until she closed the door to enter your own room.

—

You didn’t know what woke you up. The glowing numbers of the digital clock on your nightstand showed it to be somewhere around half past three. Really not your usual wake-up time.

Just as you rolled around in your sheets to get your missing hours of sleep in, you heard strange shuffling outside your door. Perking up, you realized it sounded like the overlapping chatter of voices, and shoes pounding over the smooth floor.

Yeah, no way you would be going back to sleep now.

Especially not with the uncomfortable feeling that had settled into your stomach.

Stumbling a bit, your joints not quite awake yet, you trutted over to your door and creaked it open slightly.

The white light burned your eyes at the start, as you slipped out of your room and were met with the sight of multiple people fussing around not that far away.

The uneasy feeling only got worse, as you realized two things at once: The people were first responders, firefighters, to be exact. And they were all gathered around the open door across the hallway to yours.

Cass.

You moved on autopilot, as your feet carried you closer to the scene, eyes not leaving the gaping black hole that was the entrance to your best friend’s room.

“What happened?” You asked the closest paramedic next to you, a young man with brown hair and dark gear. It didn’t help much, because his voice faded out into the back of your head, as movement began to settle over the group.

The paramedic gestured his hands, as he talked to you, though that was not at all what had grabbed your attention.

You could only look at her, as she was lying sprawled out on the stretcher that was being wheeled out of her bedroom.

Cass.

But it wasn’t Cass, it couldn’t be. Dark grey plastic was wrapped around her body, covering her features as one of the firefighters that pushed the gurney zipped the material closed.

A body bag.

You felt bile rise into your throat.

Who put a seventeen-year-old in a body bag?

She wasn’t supposed to be there. What was she doing in there.

She had a biology exam tomorrow. She was supposed to join you at breakfast. In just a few hours. She was supposed to still lay in her bed and sleep, fast and sound.

Lay in her bed. Not on a moving gurney. Her bed.

You had laid in that bed. Just a few hours before.

The exam.

Breakfast.

Dark grey plastic.

Body Bag. A body. Dead. A dead body.

Dead. Dead. Gone.

Gone. Gone. Gone. Dead.

Like a distant echo, you still vaguely registered the young paramedic talking to you; he came to an abrupt stop when you bent over and threw up on his shoes.

༺ ｡ ° ୨❀୧ ° ｡ ༻

Sioux Falls 2009

The soft music that sounded through Grandpa Bobby’s old house reminded you of Auntie Ellen’s Roadhouse.

It made you a bit homesick, but for a while now, whenever you asked Dad if you could go there again, he just shook his head and said that it wasn’t possible.

That’s also the reason why you’d been living with Grandpa Bobby for very long now, he had told you.

Auntie Ellen and Jo came to visit sometimes, but it wasn’t the same. But you saw Dad much more often, and you liked that. You missed him whenever he went out and saved people.

Grandpa Bobby had told you that it was very important, what Dad and Uncle Sam did. That’s why you never complained when they stayed away for long.

Grandpa Bobby said they saved lives. Like firemen, he said. Or Sheriff Jody.

Auntie Ellen and Jo came over for a visit today. Dad had said that they were here to help him and Uncle Sam take care of something, that’s why they had to leave later.

Jo was playing your favorite boardgame with you. You had missed her. She was still very pretty. You knew your Dad thought that too.

“Alright,” Dad said, walking through the threshold that connected Grandpa Bobby’s workroom and the dinner table where you and Jo were currently playing. “It’s time to get this little Lady to sleep.”

You pouted at him.

“But Dad, I still want to stay up and play with Jo!”

Dad raised his eyebrows and threw a pointing look at his watch.

“It is already way past your bedtime, kiddo. And I heard tomorrow is a big school day?”

He was right. Tomorrow, you started your first singing lessons with all your bestest friends. Not all of them as best friends as Jo was, though.

Your shoulders slumped.

“Can I at least say Goodbye to you?”

Dean’s gaze went soft as he looked at you. He knew how hard this was for you, how he left all the time and came back for only such short periods. But he wanted to make this a better world for you to grow up in. And when all of this was over, and it would be tonight, hopefully, then he would allow himself to settle down and spend all the time he could give with you.

“Of course you can, my little love.”

Dad crouched down and lifted you up into his arms.

“Dean, Jo!” Came Auntie Ellen’s voice from the study, “We’re ready!”

Dad threw you a mysterious look as he stepped into Grandpa Bobby’s workspace, where he and Auntie Ellen and Uncle Sam already stood lined up.

You noticed the camera set up on a strange construction.

Auntie Ellen and Uncle Sam smiled when they saw you.

“You don’t mind a small addition, do you, Ellen?” Dad asked, and Auntie Ellen shook her head.

“Of course not!” She smiled, and made space for you and Dad to stand next to her. He was still carrying you in his arms, supporting your weight with his hip.

“Alright, on the count of three, all smile in the camera!” Uncle Sam said.

“One, two, three!”

You giggled when Dad tickled your stomach. You wanted to see the picture right now, but Grandpa Bobby had told you it would take a while to develop.

Enveloped in bear hugs from Auntie Ellen, Jo, Uncle Sam and Dad, to say goodbye to them, you finally agreed to go to bed.

“Dad?” You asked him, as he went to close the door behind him. Dad turned around and looked at you, snuggled into the warm blanket with your favorite stuffed animal under your arm.

“You’ll come back soon, right?”

Dad smiled at your words. “Of course I will, sweetheart. And Uncle Sam, and Auntie Ellen, and Jo. All of us.”

“You promise?”

Dad pressed a kiss into your hair.

“Don’t worry about that, baby. Sleep well.”

Even years later, Dean Winchester still carried an old photograph in his wallet, of a brunette mother, a blonde daughter, a father figure, and two brothers.

Though, one of them wasn’t looking at the camera, but rather at the small child he held on his side, his hand on her stomach as she blindingly smiled a carefree smile into the camera.

His own was dreamy as he watched her, and yes, for that moment, he dared to say, maybe even carefree as well.

༺ ｡ ° ୨❀୧ ° ｡ ༻

Now

Cass’s room was never quiet. Whether she was blasting music or playing guitar, singing her soul out in the shower or watching a move obnoxiously louder than it had to be.

Cass’s room was never quiet. Especially not as it was now.

The silver streams of light reaching through the window made her bedroom almost look so soft and inviting, as you stood there, observing, not quite in the hallway but not exactly in the room either.

It was macabre, what you saw. Not because the room looked so terrible, no, because it looked so … normal.

None of the bookshelves were tumbled over, or paper sprawled all across the floor.

The loose decoration items weren’t lying disheveled everywhere. No signs of a fight. A physical one.

The bed wasn’t made. Cass never did that.

The room looked so normal.

It looked so right.

So why wasn’t she?

“Y/N, sweetheart,” The sound of the familiar, comforting voice of Maria Whitlock reached your ears and made you slowly turn around.

Even through the blur of unshed tears in your eyes, you could make out the two familiar figures standing behind her.

“There’s someone here to talk to you.”

You blinked away the tears and caught Dean’s gaze, and for the first time since you had seen him again, his features looked so soft and merciful, towards you, it had the power to almost shatter your heart.

And you hated yourself for how much you wanted to be comforted by him, be held in his arms like the small child that once had been, only seeking safety with her-

“What are you doing here?” The question came out harsher than you had expected it to, almost an accusation. But neither Sam nor Dean did flinch at your tone.

“We wanted to talk to you.”

“Why?” It was obvious why. They knew, you knew, they knew you knew.

“I think you know about what,” Sam said, the softness in his voice grazing your stuttering heartbeat like a soft breeze.

Dean gestured in the direction of your room.

“In private.”

You didn’t want to speak alone to them. Then again, for the past almost-decade, it had been everything you could’ve wished for.

As you settled onto your bed, both Sam and Dean taking it upon themselves to find chairs to be comfortable, you felt like a small child again.

Looking at Dean, there was a familiarity that you needed, it was grounding, and you hated that it was. His presence, which had felt like home, and like safety for so long, being everything that you craved these past few days made your skin itch, because he still felt so right.

And you still felt so safe with him.

In a matter of seconds, you stood there and turned from a young woman into a small child, that wanted to throw herself in his arms and let him tell her that everything would turn out to be alright, because he was there, and he would look out for you. No matter what happened between the two of you, that had not changed, and you didn’t know what to think about it.

Sam was the first one to clear his throat. Of course he was.

“How are you feeling?”

Half-heartedly, because that was all you could muster right now, you raised an eyebrow at him. At least he had the decency to look a bit ashamed of his question.

“We’re sorry for your loss.”

Surprised, you turned your head to look at Dean. His green eyes were soft with sincerity.

“I don’t know how much she meant to you.” He glanced at Sam. “But I can imagine.”

You swallowed hard and looked back at your fumbling fingers again.

“Yeah, she was – she was great.” Your voice broke mid-sentence and you sniffled.

You cleared your throat. “Uhm, but – anyways, that’s not why you’re here. Am I right?”

Sam and Dean exchanged a look, that could be regret as much as it could be pity, and then turned back to you.

“We’re sorry. But if we want to catch whatever is doing this, we need to have all the information,” Sam apologized.

You nodded. You already knew what they were going to ask, so you saved their time and jumped straight to the answers.

“There was nothing – unusual.” You rubbed your eyes. “She was okay just yesterday, she was- I helped her studying biology, we-“ You interrupted yourself.

Sam threw you another pitying look.

“Is there a chance she might’ve had nightmares too? You know, like Roy,” Dean asked you.

You threw your hand in the air. “Yeah, I guess,” you said. “Didn’t really think that much into it. You know, considering what happened.”

Dean bit the inside of his cheeks and gulped. “Right.”

It was quiet again. The brothers looked at each other one last time, before Sam stood up and fixed his suit jacket.

“Alright. We’re gonna leave you now.”

Please don’t.

You nodded.

Sam stretched his hand out to reach for you, but hesitated mid-air and pulled his arm back again.

“Whenever you need something,” Dean said meaningfully, before he stepped out the door, “Call us.” Call me.

You hummed absently.

The click of the lock drowned the bedroom in a deafening silence again.

—

Night came sooner than you thought it would. Sleep didn’t.

You thought, with the exhaustion that had been dragging down your bones all day long, it would only be a matter of time until exhaustion claimed you.

Without thinking about it, you grabbed your phone from your nightstand and opened up your chat with Finn.

With a sting in your heart, you realized that the last text conversation the two of you had had, had been more than a week ago.

Before all of this started.

Your keyboard clicked as you typed out the message.

hey

The answer came almost instantly.

Hey

can’t sleep either?

No

Your thumbs hovered over the buttons as you thought of what to type next.

I’m sorry we didn’t talk the entire day

It’s okay

It’s not like I came to see you either

would it be terrible to ask how you’re feeling?

Everyone’s been asking that

Oh, how you knew.

But to be honest

I don’t know

First Roy now Cass

Hasn’t reached my brain tbh

Feels more like a dream and I could wake up any second

I know what you mean

You paused for a moment, before you decided to send out the next text.

I’m still waiting for her to waltz into my room at 6 in the morning because she wants to get some mini donuts at breakfast before they’re all gone

You could practically hear the snickering laugh of Finn’s, as the icon told you he was typing out his next message.

Or letting my Alexa play the most random songs

I swear to God I’ve heard less sexual content in actual porn than that one Nicki Minaj song

first of all, it was cardi b, you pig, and

second that song is legendary

she was right to show it to you

A short while, you didn’t get an answer and you were almost afraid that Finn had either fallen asleep or that you had said something inappropriate, when the familiar ding made your screen light up.

We can catch up tomorrow

You know, maybe it would help us both

I know we haven’t been the same since all of this started, but I would really like us to be

Now more than ever

A heavy tug clamped around your heart at his words

you’re right

let’s talk tomorrow

Alright

Goodnight Y/N

good night finn

Sleep didn’t come in the first second after you plugged your phone on the charger, or even after you turned around to face the other wall.

But, as you laid on your back and felt the comforting arms of exhaustion grab after you, you had a feeling that it would’ve been worse if you had not talked to Finn.

—

Meanwhile, in the motel, Dean was slamming his third book this evening shut and tossed it onto the ever-growing pile of “absolute useless crap that nobody needed and was a total waste of time”. The name had been his idea.

Sam didn’t even look up as his brother stood up with a screeching from the wooden floor as he slid the chair back, and started pacing around the room.

“I hate this,” he mumbled under his breath.

“How is it even possible that, everywhere we look, there isn’t even the smallest hint at what we might be chasing?”

Demonstratively, he picks up a book from the pile they brought back from the library, and lets it fall on the desk again.

“Not to mention that we’re completely wasting our time here reading through this absolute crap, and we’ve got jack squat!”

The paper rustled as Sam turned another page.

“I already told you, Dean,” he muttered, eyes still concentrated on the faded ink of the book. “There was nothing online, so we had to go old-school.”

Dean kept muttering under his breath. “This is ridiculous.”

Sam rolled his eyes and placed a new book where his brother had been sitting a few minutes ago.

“If you want it to go faster and we can catch this thing, sit down and get to reading. Research doesn’t do itself.”

Dean was still cursing under his breath when he reached the second chapter.

—

The loud chatter of multiple conversations, accompanied by faint music playing in the background and the occasional clinking of glasses or beer bottles was an all too familiar mix of noises for you.

The light in the Roadhouse bar was still a warm-toned white, and the men and women all towered over you in lengths. Immediately, the feeling of home engulfed you.

You were looking around, searching for the familiar set of colorful crayons, where had your Auntie Ellen put them? You were bored and wanted to draw a pretty picture of the horse you had seen this morning.

Squeezing through the people, they all made way for you when they realized who wanted to get past them, you tried calling out for Auntie Ellen or Jo, but no tone left your throat.

A panicked feeling settled in your stomach.

Then, you spotted a tall figure just a few feet away from you. They were wearing a cool leather jacket and had their back turned to you.

You made your way over to them. You didn’t know why, but somehow you knew that this stranger could help you.

When you had almost reached them, they suddenly started moving and walked away. You wanted to cry after them, but you still couldn’t speak.

You moved your legs as fast as you could, running after them, but the people in the bar suddenly got more and more, always shoving and not making room for you anymore.

The person still hadn’t shown you their face, you could only see their back as you fought to get to them. Then, they walked through the door out of the Roadhouse.

With one last push, and a protesting yell that didn’t leave your throat, you rushed after them into the light.

With a creak, the Impala’s door swung open, and you shuffled your feet out of the car until they hit the gravel.

Dad had offered to open the door for you, but you were a big girl already, you could get out of the car on your own.

When you turned around to ask him what you were doing here, you faltered.

The Impala was gone. So was Dad. And Uncle Sam. You looked around, but they were nowhere to be found. Your breathing quickened as you realized that you were alone, somewhere you didn’t know, on stoney ground with only your bunny slippers. You didn’t even have your favorite stuffed animal with you!

“Hey, let’s go,” you suddenly heard a voice say, and turned around to see a girl with black hair stand in front of you.

Suddenly, as you had just been looking up to her, the two of you were now eye to eye. She just stared at you.

A name popped into your head.

Cass.

That’s weird. You knew a Cass. And then it hit you.

Your best friend. Roy, Finn, Cassandra. Sam and Dean.

But Cass was dead. She couldn’t be here. Looking around, you noticed that the scenery around you was blurry by the edges.

Weren’t you standing on a pathway just now? Why were you in a cafeteria?

This wasn’t real, none of it. It was a dream.

Harsh dread clawed itself into your heart like iced water. You had to get out of here. How did you get out of a dream?

You knew it, you had done this before, with your nightmares. You had to die.

You moved your feet, tried running away, but the floor wouldn’t budge, no matter how hard you tried, you didn’t move an inch, it’s like you were stuck.

You began to panic. This couldn’t be, there had to be a way for you to get out.

The next thing you knew, you lost the ground beneath your feet, and everything was black. You were falling.

You felt your organs being lifted by the air pressing you up, felt your heart pump so hard you were afraid it would jump out of your chest.

There was nothing around, only darkness, only empty.

No, no, no.

You wanted to scream, but your vocal cords were cut. Not a sound escaped your lips.

You had to get out, if there was nothing around you, how could you die?

You screamed without a sound.

If this was your dream, why couldn’t you just shape it the way you wanted?

The next thing you knew, there was light around you, and you were running again.

“Dean, look at this.” Sam slammed a massive book under Dean’s nose, dangerously close to Dean’s freshly filled coffee. Reflexive, Dean pulled the cup a few inches away.

Sam placed his finger on one of the open pages of the book. “Here,” he said. “I think this could be it.” Dean leaned forward to read.

You had landed on a road, a highway, judging by the many cars around you. This time, you actually managed to run somewhere, even if a lot slower than you usually would. Like treading through water.

It felt like you were chasing something, but you didn’t know what it was.

“If this is really it,” Dean said, when he finished reading, “Then we have a big problem.”

You did your best to remember your original plan. Right now, you were on a stripe of green next to the busy road. You had to change that.

Sam nodded heavily. “We need to get to Saint George’s immediately.”

Sam grabbed his jacket, but Dean didn’t move an inch, still staring at the handwritten words on the old paper in front of him.

You used all your strength to tread to the left, where cars were rushing from both sides over the street.

“This thing basically feeds off of bad experiences, right?”

Sam nods.

It was a red car that did it. You saw it coming as you made a beeline over the highway. As you noticed the headlights speeding towards you, for a split second you asked yourself, “What if this isn’t a dream. What if this is real.” You didn’t feel the impact when the car hit you.

“Then that means-“ Dean’s head shot up so fast Sam feared his brother would get whiplash.

“Y/N,” Dean breathed out.

Your heart was still beating rapidly in your chest when you officially woke up. The memory of the nightmare was still rushing through your minds, pictures playing behind your eyelids.

You had a hard time breathing, your chest felt as if it was carrying a hard weight that caged in your lungs.

You forced open your eyes to get yourself a glass of water. You were met with two yellow glowing orbs staring right back at you, merely inches away from your face in the darkness of the room.

You couldn’t stop the terrified scream that erupted from your throat.

oooh guys, only one chapter to go! what are we thinking? do you have any ideas on what the monster could be? and what do we think about cass and finn? comments & reblogs are always appreciated, see y’all in the next part!

#dean winchester fic #dean winchester x child!reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x daughter!reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #supernatural imagine #supernatural #father of mine #sweet child o mine #yourmomxx

[pandaroboto]

Taskmaster Recording Report

This will be a long post and it has spoilers, so proceed with caution. More after the cut.

I will put in two different sections, what happened on warm-up and between takes and what they cut from the episode and I remember. WARM UP

Greg told people to stop sending sexy DMs because he would disappoint all the ladies/some guys.

He introduced Alex who came to the stage and hugged Greg's...knees?

Greg told the audience Alex was a master and could mimic any animal doing a dance style. He did a guinea pig first and it was the cutest thing, then a wolf (there is a picture of this that was used on a press release) and then a lion. When Greg asked about a dance style I yelled SAMBA with all my strength and then I saw Alex trying to samba as a lion. It was amazing.

Mark Olver asked who came from furthest to watch it and I raised my hand and said Brazil and he said BULLSHIT, you didn't come here just for that. I then explained I also was going to see Tim Key in Cardiff the next day and he was like "Oh..she did came here just for that then"

Again British people can't understand my name so I was referred as "Brazil" for the rest of the afternoon

I was also questioned about how do I watch the show and I quickly replied Youtube .

He made me list my favorite contestants to see if I could stay in the country. I tried to think which contestants were on the YouTube series uploaded. I then said Bob Mortimer, Mike Wozniak and Mark Watson (Alex smiled a bit when I said his name). Olver went " I can't believe someone in Brazil was watching the Woz fart a pile"

When I was telling I am from Brazil Alex waved at me and I was sure he knew who I was because long story short a bunch of friends really made me feel special and got me a signed book by Alex and he knew I was going to be there after travelling for 14+ hours.

At that point Greg said "Did you come for me???" and I pathetically went YES Y ES YES. He waved at me and IDK till today how I survived this.

They joked about a guy being first row and not being a fan,Mark asked who he had to fuck to get those seat and greg was pointing to himself.

They said we were clapping at the wrong places and that would confuse Alex and Greg

After the recording when I got back to London randomly meet Asim Chaudhry on Leceister Square. He was so sweet. We chatted a bit , I talked about how Sandman was big here, and that he had Brazilian fans and he got very excited and telling his mates about it

STUDIO

Sue got a massive round of applause. I think she and Julian got the big whoops from the crowd

The prize task was so much longer. Lucy went for ages talking about the ghost of the dog, and Greg kept asking questions. I knew most of it would be cut, but Greg kept mentioning during the episode and made me question how they would edit the references. They are bloody genius those editors.

Sam's Pinocchio made quite the impression, and Greg had a lot of fun with it. They talk about Pinocchio's penis, there was questions if it grew too with the lies. And Greg kept saying Pinocchio during the recording.

Sue's monkey orgy story was longer too.

When they showed Sam getting super closer to Alex, Greg mentioned Alex was very uncomfortable with touch and to prove that he got really touchy. BTW guys the amount of hand touches, and whispers behind the cards...they are insane

After the team task they were basically talking about how kinky it was, and Greg joked about Alex tied up , hogtie style and that he enjoyed. This was the thing I was most excited and I hope they put on the outtakes because I know how the fandom will be mental about it.

Greg is...MAGNETIC! Like the man demands attention and is very hard to not be looking at him. I kept looking at them at the studio and mostly ignored the tasks because I knew that I could see them later.

The live task took ages to set up and to reset after every round, Greg even joked we would spend the night there. It was more or less 3 hours of taping.

Greg interacted with us a lot because they had to reset the seesaw all the time, At one point he asked us to go "oooooh" that was show in the episode but he asked Alex using those words "Do you want the audience to oooh you while you pull it out slowly for me?" and he said with such a voice that...if I were a dude I would have a boner.

There was a point when Alex had to explain the outcome and he got it wrong and the audience corrected him to Greg's delight, he was very giggly. Sue got quite mad at Alex and the chains.

I guess it was this. At least that is what I took from my notes.

#taskmaster #taskmaster spoilers

[the-derpy-duck]

Hikaru Sulu and Pavol Chekov: The greatest fictional friendship you have never seen.  

The original Star Trek series was known and remembered for being rather progressive and had a major impact on popular culture. The idea of a mirror dimension that has all the characters but evil came from Star Trek, many characters get referenced in different media, and a lot of fanfiction as we know it today started with the Star Trek fandom. The main reoccurring cast in the first season of Star Trek was Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock, Dr. McCoy or “Bones”, Mr. Scot or “Scotty”, Mr. Sulu, and Mrs. Uhura along with a few other background characters that were not as prevalent. In the second season Star Trek decided to add another guy to the cast, Mr. Chekov. He was mostly just there to be Russian and a reason for teen girls to watch the show. However, I believe that is a boring way to see a character. If a character speaks, or even makes an on-screen appearance, then there is subtext that can be read into. This can most easily be applied to the main trio.  

Spock is a half-Human half-Vulcan who comes from a world that is highly built around logic and suppressing emotions. He never really ends up fitting into one singular category to the more ignorant people around him and is subject to many bigoted comments from both humans and Vulcans, in varying degrees of subtilty. In some cases, it is difficult to tell if a comment was meant to be directed at Spock and if it was malicious. Spock does not often react to these comments regardless and it is typically Kirk who would confront the person. McCoy is very opposite to Spock; he is a doctor and a part of being in the medical field is having empathy. Although McCoy does make jokes at Spock’s expense there is a clear difference between when McCoy, Spock’s friend, antagonizes him and when some random guy does. McCoy is often at odds with Spock because he is so deeply rooted in empathy and caring for others which often leads to, and is also rooted in, emotions. Vulcans aren’t supposed to feel strong emotions, which Spock clearly does for both McCoy and Krik. In the episode “Naked Time” he directly states that he feels strong emotions for Kirk, in “Amok Time” he asks Kirk to go with him as a companion to witness a culturally significant ceremony in Vulcan culture (McCoy is also asked and they both go). Spock is the “brain” of the trio, McCoy is the “heart”, and Kirk is the result of two equally unstable and stubborn people refusing to stop bickering. Many, much better, essays have been written about this, what I wish to discuss is the implied friendship between Mr. Sulu and Mr. Chekov. 

For the entirety of season one, Chekov does not exist. If one were to watch the show and take everything at face value, then he is a shallow, one dimensional, stereotype of a Russian put in a show made during a time when America did not like Russians. This, however, is not fun and is not technically true. Chekov has a more laid back and joking personality. The main joke he makes is that everything is made in Russia. It is important to keep in mind the political climate of the time this show was made in. Chekov is making a joke, the things he claims to originate in his home country are obviously not Russian, the main question is if the joke is being actively made by Chekov in the narrative, as in the he is telling a joke to someone else in the story canonically, or if the joke is just that Chekov thinks or is claiming things aren’t Russian to be Russian. If it is the former, then it adds to his character in a way that isn’t just throwing more ‘Russia’ onto the guy who’s main thing is being Russian. If it is the latter, then it adds more ‘Russia’ to the guy who’s main thing is being Russian. Every person who consumes a thing will come out of it with a slightly different reading. We can get a central theme and idea, but we have different ways of coming to the conclusion. We read a word in a different tone, completely changing the sentence, we focus on different characters and read relationships differently. The best thing about art is that there is no wrong way to read and enjoy it. I personally like Chekov. I see him as being a more sarcastic character who is, more often than not, mocking the viewer for laughing at a stereotype. Even if this not what he is, it is what a lot of the “made in Russia” jokes came off to me as. I also love the “made in Georgia” joke so I am biased towards a guy who would make a similar joke. But him saying that he “was the Tzar of all the Russians” when told that a man standing Infront of him (who had just grown multiple feet in height) was the god Apollo. He sheepishly apologizes to the captain for this comment, which made me think that he tended to say things without thinking because he was either personally insulted or just thought it would be funny. I also just thought that it was a bit cute. Chekov also obviously loves women (same) and is obviously loyal to Captain Krik, in “I, Mudd” he automatically dislikes Mudd because he is being held captive by him (with the rest of the crew) and because I think he has some level of loyalty to Kirk and the rest of the crew. He also dislikes physicals but that should be discussed later in this essay. One can also infer based on a comment made by Bones in “Who Mourns for Adonais?” where Chekov starts listing animals that can generate energy/electricity without any harm to themselves. Bones tells him to stop, and Chekov says that Kirk would need all the information. Bones then remarks that “Spock is contaminating this boy”. Which could also just mean that Chekov transferred to the Enterprise. It could also mean that Chekov trained under or spent time with Spock. It could mean both, it doesn’t fully matter but I think it’s fun to think about. This gives the impression of a character that likes to make jokes but cares about and is good at his job. Another thing about Chekov is that he makes what would ber historical references, especially Russian ones. In the episode “I, Mudd” he either called Mudd a former Surf or a former owner of a Surf. This would add to the ‘Chekov spent time with Spock” narrative as Spock studies history, but this doesn’t matter that much.  He is a bit young, impulsive, and very naevi, but also very passionate in the field he works in. Regardless of how good or real these conclusions I’ve come to are, it is still a semi-reasonable way to read and interpret the text.    

Sulu was a part of the cast sense the first season. He played a notable role in the episode “The Naked Time” where he was one of the first people to be affected by the virus that caused people to lose their inhibitions. Interestingly enough, Sulu became afflicted after his friend, who had originally contracted the virus and was the one who brought it back to the ship, had a mental breakdown and attempted to kill himself using a knife. He was apparently in a friend group with this character who existed to die, and Riley. They (Sulu and Riley) attempted to restrain their friend but ultimately failed. Sulu spent the rest of the episode fencing. The idea. that watching their friend die was never really considered as a possibility for Riley or Sulu’s strange actions. They are both noted to be acting out of character and that would have been a viable explanation. It isn’t why they are acting this way, but it is an interesting idea. He is mentioned to have been a good spacecraft fighter by Spock, but when they are attacked in season two, the first time, he is not present. The other time they are attacked they choose to retreat. Sulu has a more mellowed out personality compared to the more neurotic people who surround him. He enjoys fencing and is skilled in it, as stated before he was a fighter pilot. He cares about the rest of the crew members and is generally seen as trustworthy by those around him.  What we saw in “Mirror Mirror” also supports the idea that Sulu is a good guy, mainly because in the Mirror verse, he is not. From my understanding, the Mirror realm is where everything is the same, but the main characters were evil. This implies either a lot of things happening in the Mirror realm that led to people having vastly different morals or that the individual personalities and goals of the characters are swapped or moved around slightly. Realistically both probably occurred. Mirror Sulu is shown to be a bad person, he harasses women and torchers people who are below him in rank, although they did attempt to murder him. The characters, even when they are fully aware of how the people act in this world, are horrified and shocked over these actions. The normal Sulu would not take these actions, plus he’s gay. Although that doesn't mean that he would harass a woman.  Regardless, those just weren’t things that Sulu would do, which was why he was the one doing them in the Mirror realm. 

So why are these two friends? Well, a lot of their friendship is my own very liberal interpretation of the text. They interact as they are both helmsmen and sit next to each other when they have the same shift. Despite this, when Chekov is a major character in an episode, Sulu is typically either a minor character in the episode or not there at all and vice versa. In some episodes they also don’t have a lot of time to interact because they individually wouldn’t have a lot of time on screen individually. However, they do interact. One of the more well-known scenes the two share is from the episode “The Deadly Years”, where Chekov is forced to have a lot of physicals done on him and he is complaining about it to Sulu. He makes the remark “If I live long enough, I’m going to run out of samples to give” and Sulu responds with “You’ll live”. Chekov states that he will but he won’t enjoy it. They have a lot of chemistry in this short interaction, and it is one of the main things that convinced me that they are friends. The two would naturally spend a lot of time together because they work similar jobs. Although they wouldn’t always be on the same shift it is not unreasonable to assume that they would work together at least once or twice a week. It is also not unreasonable to assume that Krik or Spock would put people who get along with each other on the same shifts, it would make logical sense because it would lead to less infighting over irrelevant issues, and it would keep moral up. Unless two people distracted each other I don’t see why Kirk would purposely sperate people from their friends. Furthermore, both Kirk and Spock would be well aware of how important it is for people to care about each other. 

Having people who you care about and who care about you would make space travel and any type of work much more enjoyable, easy, and safe. Kirk, Spock, and McCoy obviously care about each other and regardless of how it is interpreted Kirk and Spock clearly love each other. A lot of what motivates people is interpersonal relationships, and it would make sense to put people who like working together, together. That unnecessary tangent aside, it has been proven that just being around a person more can increase affection towards that person. People like and trust those who they are familiar with more than the people who they are not, even if both people are strangers. Obviously, this can also work in reverse if one is annoyed with a certain person but that’s beside the point. We like things that we are familiar with, and that extends to people. So, it would not be unreasonable to assume that Chekov and Sulu would have built up some sort of repour with each other over the course of the second season of the show. Chekov also openly complains to Sulu in an incredibly casual way, and Sulu responds similarly. Although they both are generally seen as friendly, in this particular scene it is taken to a much higher level than would be normal. The two personalities aren’t necessarily contradictory or opposites, but they are clearly different. Chekov is younger, impulsive, and much more unprofessional. However most of the time when he does interact with people of higher ranks he is professional. He will make an occasional joke, but it isn’t a constant thing. Sulu, although not as professional as say, Spock, takes his work seriously and won’t make jokes during debriefings. If the two were to be put in more situations together they could easily work well together and balance the other one out. It is not hard to imagine the two running into trouble on the enterprise that get increasingly more ridiculous.  

All of that is hypothetical, which is my main problem. I have made up most of this friendship in my head and I have spent an unreasonable amount of time thinking about this thing that is not real. I often find myself liking random background characters for little to no reason apart from them having one line that I thought was funny or a few scenes that I thought were interesting. The main reason why I like Generation One Bumblebee was because it was mentioned in an episode that he was “late again”. It didn’t add anything to the story or further the plot, but it did give a small amount of character to Bumblebee and gave some insight into how the characters interact with each other. The normal length of a Star Trek episode for TOS is 50 minutes, which gives a lot of time for the characters to interact and have these small moments. The scene of Chekov complaining about all the medical tests served to show his youth in a sense. His complaints were likely meant to come off as childish and overdramatic. I am assuming that they weren’t drawing enough blood to fill one of those blood donation bags but he had done at least three physicals and two of those were back-to-back, so his complaints probably were somewhat reasonable. When Scotty was left in charge of the Enterprise during the events of ‘Friday’s Child’, Chekov makes a “thing that was definitely not made in Russia was made in Russia” joke. When Sulu and Scotty look confused, Chekov just smiles and Sulu also smiles, whereas Scotty just looks a bit annoyed with the comment. They also have a small conversation in “Amok Time” when Sulu asks what Chekov thinks about the current traveling situation. Chekov responds with a joke. The two also complain about how indecisive the commanders are being about where they are traveling. These scenes that show them making jokes together as they work make me think that they would spend time with each other outside of when they were required to work together. They make jokes with each other and don’t really get annoyed the way that the others do. In the epiosode where the enterprise is given a supercomputer that could very well replace them it is implied that both Chekov and Sulu dislike it. When Kirk tells Chekov to plot a course back to a star base Sulu is very happy and the two joke a bit and are smiling. There is also another episode where the two are very physically close to each other. I believe that Sulu was helping Chekov track something. Although two characters being physically close to each other does not automatically mean that the characters are close friends, it does say something about their relationship. They both feel comfortable enough to be working closely on a high stress project. In fact, it almost seems to make them calmer. This could also have just represented Sulu’s anxiety around the current situation, but it could also imply that the two are friends.

 But what is the actual appeal to the idea of their friendship? For me, the idea that two background characters who get enough screen time to not be completely obscure but not enough screen time to be considered a main character could have a friendship that just existed without being connected to a main character is cool. 50 minutes is a lot of time for the characters to just interact and any filler that has Chekov and Sulu together only strengthens my belief that they are best friends. If both of them are included in the episode, stay on the ship, and have at least a supporting role in the A or B plot then they will probably exchange funny looks or have a short conversation. Chekov, as a character, was meant to fill three main rolls, he needed to be Russian, he needed to be the appeal for teenage girls, and he was typically the comic relief character that was also the almost redshirt. Sulu also is sometimes placed in the ‘almost red shirt’ category. The audience knows and cares about him but he isn’t a main character. The writers will not kill off Spock, Kirk, or Bones. Scotty and Uhura also have a good amount of plot armor. Sulu and Chekov both have plot armor, but they aren’t integral to the ship functioning. There is more than one navigator and helmsman. They can be replaced, and they work in shifts. The main thing that separates them from a sacrificial security guard or science officer is that they have had their names for more than one episode. They are reoccurring background characters that the audience cares for, but they are not unkillable. Will they die? Probably not and it definitely wouldn’t be in the same way that your average red shirt would, but they could. The main way the writers can establish a thing as a threat or something we as the audience should be worried about is by having one of these ‘almost red shirts’ be impacted by it. They won’t die but they will be mind controlled or put in harm’s way. 

They are in no position of power and just have to deal with the consequences of the commanders’ actions in a way that is different from the actual people in power. Kirk goes to a planet and discovers that someone has contracted a disease, Spock, McCoy, and Kirk would be in charge of actually fixing the situation, but characters like Sulu and Chekov don’t actively work on solving the problem. In “Amok Time” they are shown to be changing the courses when Kirk goes back and forth on the Vulcan issue, but they aren’t the ones who are actually deciding what they should do. Kirk will ask Chekov a question about a navigation specific problem, but Chekov isn’t the one in charge of if or not they will go through with the plan; he is just there to give advice. They are both annoyed by how indecisive Captain Kirk was being in ‘Amok Time’ and although they will complain amongst themselves, they will never take their grievances to him directly. Nor will Kirk ask what they think about the situation because they are not the people who would know or care that much about the issue. This makes them resemble coworkers who are friends who must deal with their boss’s antics. We don’t focus on the people who do everyday jobs on the Enterprise because that is boring when compared to the adventures that Captain Kirk and Spock would go on. We still watch people do their everyday job, but what makes it interesting and fun is the setting and characters. For a show like “The Office” to work the characters need to be funny or entertaining. The main reason why people watch TV is because they want to escape from the monotony and stress of day-to-day life. If “The Office” was just about people working a typical office job, then it wouldn’t have as large of an audience because it would be boring. We wouldn’t want to have a boss like whoever the boss is in The Office (I’ve watched one episode of the office I don’t know how bad the guy is but from the clips I’ve seen all of these characters seem like the type you’d want to avoid having to spend long periods of time with) or be put in life threatening situations, but these are fake. They didn’t happen in real life and a lot of the absurdity is funny because of that. It would be much more interesting to watch the main three, and that’s why the show is heavily focused on them. However, the idea of Chekov and Sulu is funny. It may not be enough to fill a 50-minute block of TV or even a 22-minute one, but it does make for potentially humorous situations. These stories and situations would not have a large impact on anything, but the idea that they happen or could happen makes the world feel more real and a bit more fun.  Although they might not interact a lot in the original show the movies do present evidnce that they are friends. When the crew is given shore leave, Chekov and Sulu spend that time together. They get lost in Yellowstone together and the idea of them being friends is much closer to cannon than it ever was in the original show. The argument was never if or not they were friends, it was why this hypothetical relationship was good and entertaining. I personally find both characters endearing and I think that they would be friends based off of how they interact in the text. Their general personalities also serve to complement each other, Sulu is much more laid back and thoughtful whereas Chekov is impulsive and doesn’t really take things seriously, his inexperience is obvious, and he is easily startled. Sulu has been on the Enterprise much longer than Chekov and he is more used to the universe constantly trying to kill them.

  

Ultimately, both Chekov and Sulu are background characters in a show from the 60s’. What they did, their thoughts and feelings on certain matters, and individual thoughts do not matter to the narrative. They serve to fill up the world and make it seem less empty and less like the writers couldn’t be bothered to make characters to fill the roles that they fill. The conversations that they have are mostly just filler and have little substance. That, however, is a boring explanation and much less fun. It is fun to imagine these characters being friends, it’s fun to overanalyze everything that they say and do, and it’s fun to make up your own little stories for characters you enjoy. A shallow character or a shallow story can still have an impact on people because they can add depth to it. Star Trek is neither a shallow story nor does it only have shallow characters, that doesn’t change the fact that it’s still fun to make stuff up. The world of Star Trek is a sandbox world, there is an unlimited number of stories a person can tell. Star Trek is one of the earliest series that had fan works that were actively labeled as such and it’s not hard to see why. Many characters are charming and have a lot of chemistry with each other. The show generates creativity and wants the viewer to think. And I did that. I thought 4k poorly worded words into existence that you managed to read. Good job!

#Star Trek #trekposting #star trek tos #delulu #tos #tos sulu #tos chekov #tos bones #tos spock #tos kirk #jim kirk #james t kirk #leonard mccoy #dr mccoy #bones mccoy #leonard bones mccoy #how many damn tags can you have for one character holy shit #spock #mr spock #transformers #for like a second #essay #pretty sure this is five paragraphs #duck screams about things #fandom #character analysis #writing #friendship #Star Trek analysis

[homomenhommes]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … February 11

1873 – UK: Simeon Solomon was an English Pre-Raphaelite painter noted for his depictions of Jewish life and same-sex desire as well as a poet. Solomon and George Roberts, a stableman, are arrested on this day at a public urinal in London and charged with the Crime of Buggery.

John Wallowitch (L) and Bertram Ross

1926 – John Wallowitch (d.2007) was an American songwriter and cabaret performer. He wrote over 2,000 songs; his works include Bruce, I See the World through Your Eyes, Back on the Town and Mary's Bar.

For over 50 years, he played and sang a catalogue of original songs at nightspots around New York City with his longtime partner, Bertram Ross. Ross was the principal male dancer for Martha Graham for over twenty years. In 1953 he replaced Graham's former partner and husband , going on to create many great roles such as he created leading roles in many of her works.

Ross and Wallowitch sang in nightspots ranging from London's Pizza on the Park to the Ballroom in New York City. A CD of their performance cabaret, Wallowitch and Ross (Miranda Music) was released in 2003 to accompany the documentary film of the couple, Wallowitch & Ross: This Moment.

Wallowitch lived and performed in New York City with Ross, until Ross's death on April 20, 2003, at 82 years old. Wallowitch died on August 15, 2007 in New York City. They are buried together at Kensico Cemetery, Valhalla, New York (Actors Fund Lot).

Justin Ryan (L) and Colin McAllister

1967 – Justin Ryan and Colin McAllister (born 10 January 1968) are Scottish interior decorators and television presenters. McAllister and Ryan have incorporated their trademark behaviour, which includes their frequent bickering, fussiness, tantrums, mild innuendo and light-hearted put-downs, as comic relief into most of their programmes.

As well as being co-hosts, McAllister and Ryan have also been in a relationship since April 1985 and are credited as introducing laminate flooring to British households. On 15 February 2008, they had a private civil partnership ceremony in London followed by a Caribbean honeymoon. After leaving 2009's edition of I'm A Celebrity contest on ITV, they announced that they were to renew their vows on their 25th anniversary, 28 April 2010.

Although their main residence is Glasgow, they divide their time between there and London in their own homes in both cities. The two also own a downtown loft in Toronto where they are currently devising new formats for 2013 North American broadcast. They have filmed 4 * 13 episode series of Colin and Justin's Home Heist for HGTV, which is broadcast in approximately 25 countries.

In 2011 Colin McAllister & Justin Ryan confirmed that after 22 years together, they are officially married. It was their experience in Canada that make the couple decide that they wanted to make their union official.

"I'm not sure if we would have decided to get married if we hadn't moved to, and fallen in love with Canada. After a year of living in Toronto, filming Home Heist, it became clear to us that it was time to tie the knot. Canada is such a progressive nation, so welcoming and open-mindedly liberal about gay marriage, that we felt thoroughly inspired," says Ryan.

McAllister added, "Previously every time someone asked us about getting married, I'd joke that even after such a long time I still wasn't sure if Justin was the right man! Let's just say that this year, I'm SURE."

The pair also write a weekly column in the Friday and Sunday editions of the Toronto Sun, offering up their suggestions for sprucing up homes. The column syndicates to 24 Hours Vancouver, 24 Hours Toronto and The London Free Press. The column is also available online. Colin and Justin contribute a weekly column to The Huffington Post and to Cottage Life Magazine as a companion to their current Cottage Life TV show.

1976 – Brice Beckham is an American actor most famous for his role as Wesley T. Owens in the television sitcom Mr. Belvedere and for his role as Corey in I Hate My 30's. He lives in Los Angeles and is a member of LA's Namaste theater group.

Born in Long Beach, California, Beckham attended Minnie Gant Elementary School, College Intermediate School, Walter B. Hill Junior High School, and Wilson High School, in Long Beach, California. While in high school, he came in first place in the California High School Speech State Finals in 1993. He attended the University of Southern California, majoring in theater.

Beckham began his acting career in school plays. He later went on to do an assortment of radio commercials, and would later appear on an episode of the TV sitcom Alice. He starred in Mr. Belvedere as Wesley T. Owens. The show aired from 1985 to 1990. He appeared in an episode of Win, Lose, or Draw in 1989, and in a guest role in American Dreamer in 1991. In 1992, he starred in an episode of CBS Schoolbreak Special, called "Two Teens and a Baby".

In 2007, he starred in the VH1 series I Hate My 30s.In 2012, Beckham was one of several former child actors who appeared in a Funny or Die video called "CCOKC", which stood for Child Celebrities Opposing Kirk Cameron. A counterpoint to Kirk Cameron's stance on homosexuality, the humorous video aimed to spread the message that gay individuals are not a threat to anyone. Keith Coogan, Josie Davis, Jeremy Licht, Kenn Michael, Christine Lakin, and Maureen Flannigan also appeared in the video.

1977 – Ari Gold (d.2021) was an the award-winning, openly gay, independent recording artist who fashioned himself a high-octane career. An Orthodox Jew who was a successful child vocalist, Gold struggled with his gay identity both within the Jewish community and in the music industry. He starred in an autobiographical theater production Ari Gold – Untitled: The Making of a Gay Pop Star.

Gold declared, "Labels don't have to define us. They simply describe us—they shouldn't confine us. I for one am proud to be known as a gay artist . . . . I am done with hiding and done with shame in any form."

Born and raised in the Bronx in New York City, Gold's teacher parents both loved show business. Gold calls his parents "show Jews." When Gold was born, his birth announcement read like a show bill:

METRO GOLD WINNING PRODUCTIONS Proudly Present "Another Smash Hit" OUR THREE SONS With the brilliant new star ARI GOLD

At seven, Gold sang back-up for Diana Ross when she needed a children's choir for her Swept Away album. The same year he sang in the "My Buddy" jingle for Jell-O Pudding Pops with Bill Cosby. As a child, he sang over 400 jingles.

When he was eight, Gold did girls' voices for a syndicated cartoon series. He also recorded a girl's voice for the talking Cabbage Patch Kids dolls. You could dial the Cabbage Patch Kids talking telephone and hear Gold say, "Hi, I'm Sybil Sadie. Want to come play with me?"

Gold attended Yeshiva High School in Manhattan where he tried to downplay his music career. He was afraid that boys might make fun of him, especially for voicing girls. He tried not to talk about his work at school, and when he went to work he hid his yarmulke. It seemed ironic to Gold even then that he was hiding two essential aspects of his identity in an effort to be as "all-American" as he could at work and in school.

One of the first songs he wrote, at 14, is called "Experienced Girl," about an ex-girlfriend, who recently asked Gold to sing another of his songs, "Bashert (Meant to Be)," from his 2004 album, Space Under Sun, at her traditional Jewish wedding to another woman. "That's right," Gold says. "My first girlfriend turned out to be a lesbian."

In high school, Gold had two girlfriends, which he thought kept him safe from being outed as a "homo." Gold says, "I can joke about it now, but at the time I felt quite tortured and felt that if anyone found out my secret of being gay I would be ex-communicated from my friends, my school, my community, and my family."

Gold came out to his best friend when he was sixteen. Two years later, he came out to his family in an 18-page letter. Gold says his family's reaction was "fairly accepting." "My Mom was proud of me because she thought it wasn't healthy to keep a secret like that," Gold says, "but when I stopped being religious, that was a lot more difficult for them."

His first album, Ari Gold included explicit gay love songs, such as "Write Me a Love Song" and "Home." In the former, Gold sings openly about his lover asking him to write him a song about love between men.

In 2004, Gold released Space Under Sun on his own label, Gold18 Records. It debuted as #1 on the Outvoice Charts, and Gold was featured on the covers of many gay magazines. The album solidified Gold as an emerging gay musical star. The album includes songs about such subjects as a man and woman fighting over the same man ("He's on My Team") and the trauma of getting caught by the cops having sex in public ("Caught"). It also includes the tender ballad "Bashert (Meant to Be)," which reflects Gold's Jewish identity.

In 2007, Gold released his third studio album Transport Systems. The songs on this album are about such topics as the down low, gay relationships, crystal meth addiction, gender identity, and spirituality.

As for being a gay artist, Gold said he saw his gayness as a gift. "As long as my friends are being beaten on the street, as long as there are still kids killing themselves because of shame, and as long as we are still fighting for our basic civil and human rights, I will continue to shout [my gayness] from the queer roof tops."

Gold died from leukemia on February 14, 2021, three days after his 47th birthday. RuPaul, whom Gold had described as a mentor, was among those to express condolences on social media.

1983 – Robert Sepúlveda Jr. is a former fashion model, interior designer, creative director, and LGBTQ activist.

He was born in San Juan, Puerto Rico. He grew up in Lake City, Florida where he attended Columbia High School. He received his degree in interior design from The Art Institute of Fort Lauderdale, graduating summa cum laude. During his college years Sepúlveda Jr. worked as an escort to pay his way through college and to pay his rent.

Sepúlveda began his career at Valley Forge Fabrics, a supplier of decorative upholstery fabrics for the hospitality industry. There, he created and executed interior design schemes for hoteliers. In 2008 Sepúlveda moved to New York City where he began working with fashion houses Polo Ralph Lauren, Rugby Ralph Lauren, Lacoste, and Kenneth Cole, eventually assuming the role of acting Global Visual Manager of the Calvin Klein Home Collection. Sepúlveda has since founded RSJdesign, LLC, his interior design firm specializing in luxury residential and commercial spaces.

In September 2016, Sepúlveda Jr. starred on the dating show Finding Prince Charming, which airs on the network Logo. The series depicted Sepúlveda Jr. getting to know thirteen gay men and each week he has to eliminate 1 in a ceremony. The show shares the similar format to The Bachelor, however it is the first all gay-cast dating show. Prior to the series airing, controversy arose surrounding Sepúlveda Jr with his past work as an escort being revealed and his personal videos were released by an ex-partner. Logo has spoken out on that matter claiming they were fully aware of his history and explained that the series is reality and consists of many discussions such as "first time love to coming to terms with one’s past, fear of commitment and even HIV."

[7grandmel]

Todays rip: 25/01/2024

Too big, huh, my nuts are too big how about that

Season 3 Featured on: SiIvaGunner's Highest Quality Rips Volume A

Ripped by Grambam36, Twonko

Late last year, we received official confirmation that the Electronic Entertainment Expo, E3, was no more. The signs were everywhere, as they'd failed to hold any meaningful event past the pandemic and were fumbling even before then, yet it was still kind of sad to see the news spelled out officially - that the gaming community's Christmas Day was going away forever, in favor of the more condensed, streamlined, and in general a lot less charming Summer Games Fest. And yeah, the excitement for game reveals and trailers is still prominent with Keighley's shows, though a tool he may be, but...there was a sort of memetic energy to the E3 shows in particular, the per-company press conferences that were always subtly coated in delicious cringe, those are now effectively lost. Though the show may be lost, the memories remain - and I'll always remember just how fun each of the SiIvaGunner channel's per-show channel events were, from Season 1 to Season 4 Episode 1.

I did indeed cover a rip related to the E3 show once before on here, with Take Me Home, Country Snow - a rip focusing on the ever-memetic quality of Bethesda's Todd Howard. That's a well-spread joke in the gaming community, yet Too big, huh, my nuts are too big how about that focuses on far more of an in-joke, one finally meeting its natural endpoint after years of build-up: Ridley, before his debut in Super Smash Bros. Ultimate, being criticized as being far too big to be fit for the game's roster. "Bigley" became a minor meme on the Miiverse forums on Wii U/3DS, and it was just generally a very funny idea to spread about - that a character was simply too massive to ever possibly be able to be used in fighting.

It's likely that Too big, huh, my nuts are too big how about that wasn't even made with the intention of releasing after Ridley's reveal during Nintendo's 2018 E3 show, but withholding the rip to release it with the perfect timing just adds to the joke even further - the visuals of the rip present Ridley as the surprise new character, only to reveal that his character size is so astronomically big that the game literally cannot load him into a match. The rip's audio joke itself is initially based on a Season 1 classic, Vs. Meta Horat, mashing up Ridley's theme with The Nutshack theme, before taking on a very patently Twonko twist - you may recognize his name from Crompton Racing, and back when he was still with the channel he was one of the biggest proponents and contributors to making Jake Paul a recurring joke on the channel. The rip effectively turns into a - funny enough - BIGGER version of Vs. Meta Horat, still featuring The Nutshack prominently, but overriding it with It's Everyday Bro and other sources. Most notably, and funniest to me personally, is the line iconic to many Smash Bros. fans of the time before Ultimate's release - "RIDLEY'S BIG AS SHIT!".

I talked yesterday about the feeling of, admiring rips and media in general from a distance - that I'm able to love rips like Guilty Eyes Creeper despite holding no real attachment to the Love Live franchise or its music. Yet with clips from Shokio's old infamous Ridley discussion video, that voicebyte that was heard so often in so many hilarious contexts before even the release of Smash Bros. for Wii U/3DS, it does feel oh so rewarding to feel fully in-on-the-joke with Too big, huh, my nuts are too big how about that. The signature styles of the two rippers of course helps make it an immensely fun listen, but it really was just the comedic timing of the moment and execution of the joke that sealed the deal for this becoming one of my favorite 2018 rips.

#todays siivagunner #season 3 #siivagunner #siiva #grambam36 #twonko #ridley #metroid #smash bros #super smash bros #its everyday bro #jake paul #logan paul #the nutshack #mashups #ridley metroid #super smash bros ultimate #ssbu #Youtube #Bandcamp

[rynekins]

Welcome, friends, to the Sideshow Bob Awards! Recently I did a few polls about certain elements of Sideshow Bob episodes, and now I shall give some commentary over the results!

Why did I do this? Eh, funsies, but I’ll always look for an excuse to ramble about Sideshow Bob.

First up is the Award for Humor. Which Sideshow Bob episode is the funniest? Black Widower makes Honorable Mention. While an important episode with a lot of notable moments, I might not personally rank it amongst the funniest. Though Bob’s dry wit (as always) wins me over, and Bart explaining Bob’s plan to Homer, worthy of a chuckle.

This overall ranking, out of all of the polls, I agree with the most. Sideshow Bob’s Last Gleaming has some stellar Bob moments: Bob on helium, mimicking the Colonel, his pathetic attempt to kill Krusty, and who could possibly forget the Air Show Rant.

“Air Show? Buzzzzzz-cut Alabamians spewing colored smoke from their whiz jets to the strains of Rock You Like a Hurricane? What kind of country-fried rube’s still impressed by that?!” As for the Air Show Rant, I am also giving it the Award for Best Quote. Unfortunately, this poll did not have much engagement. I expected people to be shy, and I suppose I should have made it a normal poll for people to vote on instead of asking for more direct input, but there are simply too many good Bob quotes to narrow it down! How could I possibly? I had not the strength. His exasperation with his peers, mocking elitist tone, the venom, the sass, the hip swaying and crossing of his feet, going wall eyed and throwing his arms out cuz he always gotta be extra, if there is a perfect Sideshow Bob quote that exemplifies his character it would be this one.

Aside from that, mocking the military and garbage television, this episode offers a ton of laughs, worthy of at least Third place.

Brother From Another Series takes Second, and has a different brand of humor, but the kind that always gets me. It’s supposedly written like an episode of Frasier, which means the script is chock full of one liners from two guys too smart for their own good, constantly trying to one-up eachother. You wonder how both Bob and Cecil could ever end up in Springfield, an environment of pure dumbassery, and it clearly has had an effect on them (they must have drunk the water). Personal favorite moments are the boys with the slack-jawed locals, “especially Lisa, but ESPECIALLY Bart”, and “utterly hopeless”.

To no one’s surprise Cape Feare takes the crown. It often makes top 10 lists for its humor alone, and with good reason. This episode is packed with jokes, funny drawings, and goofiness, with running gags so memorable and powerful that they would get callbacks even 30 years later. The idiocy is at an all time high, both with Homer and Bob, which frankly is necessary to balance out the more sinister and rather tense scenes. Homer scaring Bart, the rakes, the drive through the cactus patch, The Rakes, “Hello Mr Thompson”, THE RAKES. This episode is iconic, and I completely understand why.

Next up we have the Award for Animation. For our Honorable Mention, we have Bob’s official debut, Krusty Gets Busted. I’m glad to see some love for season 1, when everything was experimental especially with the animation. The linework, expressions, poses, models, colors, everything seems off by today’s standards, but you can see the effort and love put into it. There’s something beautiful about how rough it looks because you know what a struggle it was to make it work. And it does work. But I’m biased toward things that are hand drawn.

In Third for this category, the award goes to Gone Boy, the complete opposite of Krusty Gets Busted. We have the modern era, the clean colors, the characters staying on model, a lot of the stiffness that a lot of people don’t care for. However, there are moments that feel like a return to form in this episode. My eyes lit up when I saw Bob’s face as he encountered Milhouse. Then the dance he does as he sings is song-o. The wintery environment, a few ambitious angles, some great character acting. It’s proof that newer episodes have their beauty too. I only wish that the hallucination sequences went harder. Imagine, if you will, they suddenly went Courage the Cowardly Dog mode on you and changed mediums, turned into something more experimental and maybe truly nightmarish. This episode was great, but it could have been legendary. I am grateful for the feast we got. In Second, Black Widower returns, which dare I say has been robbed. Yes, I think it should have been First. This episode is gorgeous, but as I have established, I liked the earlier, rougher animation.

Every single frame of Bob’s rant on MacGyver is absolutely wild, as is the skipping through the flowers. The colors in the night scenes. The glow from the explosion. There’s so much character here, so many expressions and extra motions with hands in scenes, even when no one is talking. The weight in Bob’s hair when he throws back his head for a maniacal laugh. What this episode’s got is flair. Once again, Cape Feare takes First. I can see why, because it is a very good looking episode. One of the best. Oh, how I wish the show still looked like this (the latest Treehouse Ei8ht made me crave what we have lost). But I must wonder if it might be taking the number one spot because of how memorable it is with other factors. No doubt it’s funny, with a lot of well done and imaginative scenes. Bob’s lil dance during his work out comes out of nowhere and is hysterical. You think for a minute that the episode is going to cheat you when the elephants are trampling him off-screen then it pans down to show you the exact moment one steps on and off his skull. The increasingly elaborate set and costume designs for Bob’s theatrical performance. There is a lot of artistry to appreciate here. It’s cinematic even. Then again, a lot of the cinematic moments can be attributed to its source material: the 1991 movie Cape Fear, some moments directly inspired. Not to say that all of the work was done for them, certainly not. They put their own spin on things.

Perhaps the placement is deserved. The shot that goes from Bart’s window, flying over all of Springfield, to Bob’s prison is particularly impressive. There’s a lot of juicy saturation and shifts in color reminiscent of shots from Krusty Gets Busted and Black Widower. It’s safe to assume that I’m drawn more towards character details, and little things like all the lower angles we get from Bob work well in conveying menace, as if we, the audience, are in danger

This concludes Part One of the Sideshow Bob Awards, In Part Two I will cover Best Song and Best Mystery. As for intermission, picture THE RAKES!!!

#sideshow bob #robert terwilliger #the simpsons

[sesamestreep]

30 Day Writing Challenge - Day 4

Write about your MC’s personal style (from this list) ➸ set in the Bakeoff AU, before the events of summer came like cinnamon, so sweet and referencing an event from the first chapter of @firstelevens original fic in the series (sugar pie, honey bunch) and yes, I'm aware this is a huuuuge stretch for this prompt, don't worry about it!

Karen’s just left them to go get another round from the bar when Foggy’s phone starts ringing. On the screen, a photo of Daisy looking comically crestfallen while holding a ruined sufflé pops up and Foggy swipes to accept the call immediately.

“Hey, Daisy, what’s up?” he asks, aiming for casual but…well, Daisy’s roughly his age and avoids talking on the phone as much as anyone of their generation does, if not more. He’s slightly concerned that something must be wrong. Across from him, Matt’s expression turns pinched, probably because he’s thinking the same thing or he can hear the worry in Foggy’s voice.

“Did you watch the episode last night?” Daisy asks, without preamble or greeting. 

“Oh, yeah. I mean, me and Karen did. Matt fell asleep like ten minutes in.”

Daisy scoffs over the line at the same time as Matt says, “I already apologized like five times for that!”

Pulling the phone away from his mouth slightly, Foggy says, “I know you did. And I forgive you. I know how important your beauty sleep is to you.”

Matt rolls his eyes, looking vaguely embarrassed at the same time. Foggy’s not sure if the extended time away during the show has made old things he’d gotten used to before new again or if this really is something new, but Matt’s easier to fluster than he remembered. Foggy could have sworn he made lots of jokes about Matt’s good looks and Matt always just brushed them off. This new shyness about it is surprising.

“Anyway,” Foggy says, turning his attention back to Daisy, “I saw the episode. Why do you ask?”

“Have you been online at all today?”

“You mean, have I been connected to the Internet at all? Yes, of course, Daisy, come on!”

“No, I mean, on social media,” Daisy says, impatiently.

“I don’t really use social media. You know that.”

“I know you have your finsta,” she replies. “I didn’t know if anyone had tagged you in anything there. Or if you have a dummy twitter account to lurk sometimes.”

Foggy laughs. “God, no!”

“Don’t say it like it’s totally ludicrous! People do it!”

“Yeah, but not me,” Foggy says, still laughing. “I’m just a simple country lawyer. What need have I of your twitters and your algorithms?”

He feels like he can hear Daisy roll her eyes on the other end of the call. “You’re such a dork!”

“Sorry. What’s so important that you needed to call me on the phone to ask if I have a secret Twitter account?”

“The Internet is freaking out about you, Foggy Nelson.”

Foggy’s stomach sinks. “It is?” he asks. “What did I do?”

“You looked too damn hot in this week’s episode, apparently.”

“I—what?” Foggy asks, feeling so utterly stupid. None of those words made any sense to him, which is troubling because most of them were pretty simple. “Wait, did I look really sweaty or something?”

“No, dumbass,” Daisy says, “I mean ‘hot’ like ‘god, he’s so hot, I want to have his babies,’ which, by the way, is a real tweet I read about you not fifteen minutes ago.”

“What?!” Foggy basically shouts, which makes Matt lean forward in his seat and give him a questioning look.

“Your humility is really beyond the pale, Franklin. It’s like you don’t know you’re hot!”

“I don’t know that,” he says, still freaking out slightly. “I’ve been called that by three, maybe four people in my whole life before today! It’s not a common occurrence.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Daisy says, because she’s fundamentally loyal and it makes her confused sometimes. 

“Well, if it’s happening a lot, it must be behind my back, then.”

Matt, apparently done with being out of the loop, reaches across the table to poke Foggy’s wrist with his index finger. Foggy replies in turn by patting Matt’s hand with his twice, hoping that conveys that there’s no emergency. 

“Well, it’s happening a lot on Twitter right now,” Daisy replies. “Which, I guess is still behind your back, technically.”

“That’s…great, I guess…”

“I thought you’d be happier,” she says, sounding worried. “You seem upset.”

“It’s just weird to think about,” Foggy says, keeping his tone mild. He’s not mad at Daisy by any stretch, but having people outside of the neighborhood know who he is and have strong opinions about him has proven to be a tougher concept to reckon with than he originally anticipated. “It’s that thing of being perceived in a way that I have no control over.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Daisy replies, thoughtfully. “I just…I thought you should know you’re the Internet’s reigning boyfriend at the moment.”

Foggy laughs, still feeling weird but in a warmer, cozier way than before. “Well, it’s an honor to be somebody’s boyfriend, I suppose.”

Matt’s head perks up at that, like a dog who’s heard a strange noise, and Foggy resists the urge to laugh at him for it. Karen returns with their next round at that precise moment, too, and makes a face at this pronouncement as she slides Foggy’s beer across the table to him. He also sees her look over at Matt, as if he’ll have more answers somehow.

“I’m guessing based on your blasé reaction to this news that I shouldn’t send you a curated collection of mine and Colleen’s favorite tweets about how gorgeous you are?” Daisy asks, innocently.

“For the sake of my mental health, you probably shouldn’t,” Foggy replies, “but honestly, today’s been a weird one and we had a miserable time in court, so it might cheer me up.”

Daisy squeals excitedly, which is not a noise Foggy knew she made before this very moment. She didn’t even make that noise when she won Bake-Off, not that he’s allowed to tell anyone that yet. “That’s what I like to hear,” she exclaims. “Alright, well, get ready for some screenshots. And also sorry in advance for any psychological damage I may cause.”

“Thanks,” Foggy laughs. “Both for the apologies in advance and for making sure I knew about this.”

“What are friends for?” Daisy sighs happily, and then hangs up without a goodbye.

“What’s going on?” Karen asks as she takes a sip from her beer.

“Have you been on Twitter today?” he asks, in response.

“I’m a journalist, Foggy. Unfortunately, most of my life is spent on Twitter.”

“Do you follow any Bake-Off people there?”

“I might follow the official twitter for the show itself, but I’m not sure. Why?”

“Apparently, Twitter is freaking out about me in last night’s episode.”

“Really? What do they have to freak out about?” Matt asks, frowning.

Foggy shrugs. “I don’t know. Just me, I guess? I looked good or something.”

“I told you that you looked good last night,” Karen says, gesturing broadly to convey her annoyance. “You didn’t believe me.”

“You’re one of my best friends, Karen. You have to lie to me about that kind of thing!”

“No, I don’t! And I wasn’t!”

“Well, you’re about to be vindicated,” Foggy says. “Daisy and Colleen are sending me screenshots.”

As if on cue, Foggy’s phone lights up with several messages being sent to his and Colleen and Daisy’s group chat and the notifications don’t slow down at all for another full minute.

“God,” Foggy says, just looking at the new messages pouring in. “She wasn’t kidding.”

“You want to read them,” Karen asks, with a bright, dangerous look in her eye, “or shall I?”

Foggy hands over his phone without a second thought. “Probably better if you do it,” he says, feeling genuine panic and terror at the idea. It’s too late to go back now, though. He’s gotten her hopes up.

“Oh my god,” Karen says, after he’s gotten his phone unlocked for her. She puts her hand to her mouth to disguise her…horror? Amusement? Both? It’s hard to tell.

“What?” Foggy asks, anxiously, and Matt turns over his hand underneath Foggy’s palm so he can give it a quick squeeze, which…that shouldn’t be as soothing as it actually is. It’s, frankly, ridiculous that it helps so much.

“Foggy,” Karen says, excitedly, “you’re a sensation!”

+

guy with no problems • juliachildsplay

um… hello?? Foggy coming into the tent with those little braids??? I’m experiencing symptoms????

the hateful nate • nateorade

I’ve been online too long because the minute I saw Foggy Nelson with his hair in braids, I just shouted OOOHHH GENDER!! at the top of my lungs. my gf and my cat both left the room in protest.

kelly nguyen • gaygrenadine

me normally: it’s so embarrassing when cis dudes get so much credit for the mildest defiance of gender norms… me seeing foggy’s braids in GABO: yasss queen thank you for my rights 🌈🙌 gender is sooo over!!

brynn it to wynn it • flibbertigibbety

I did not actually think Foggy could get hotter to me than when he responded to people ridiculing his French pronunciation by revealing he speaks fluent Punjabi, but I was WRONG!! 

Ezekiel (he/they) • ezeydoesitt

how is anyone getting any baking done right now when foggy is there looking so so good?? couldn’t be me!!!

world’s #1 trilla apologist • eldritchedeelite

lord, I am not one of your strongest soldiers… foggy in that salmon colored t-shirt and those braids… I am WEAK

dinah (derogatory) • surelytemple

my two cents is that Ava deserves star baker this week because she is somehow still baking with foggy nelson’s whole beautiful self directly in her eye line. talk about performing under pressure.

bram (not stoker) • bramblinnmann

I am watching bakeoff with my family right now and it’s getting very difficult to pretend to be straight in front of them when Foggy’s out here looking this hot

your future canceled wife • thecouturevulture

THEM: hey how was bakeoff this week? what did everyone make? was it good? ME: FOGGY NELSON WORE HIS HAIR IN BRAIDS!!! 

citizen paddington  • genderemporia

I literally couldn’t tell you a single thing that happened in this episode of GABO. Foggy appeared onscreen and my brain shut off for the next hour. I came to and I was googling wedding venues, idk man

Kira Iris • villainesque

I don’t condone people getting obsessed with public figures and violating their privacy but if some of yall wanted to be weird and find out if Foggy’s “partner” he references is a business thing or a romantic thing, I would look the other way just this once

Default Username, Esq. • shrimpheavencanwait

thank god foggy nelson isn’t on social media or I would be embarrassing myself I would be in those DMs like cheese filling in a danish I would be bringing shame upon my ancestors for that man I promise you

Helena Bee 🐝♿️ • bananabreadcrumbs

that part of the episode where Colleen walked behind Foggy and pulled one of his braids to say hello and he smiled at her??? It just hurts to see other people live your dreams???

spy x savage x fenty  • coolnormalchill

foggy deserves star baker because he cured my depression and my gender dysphoria in one fell swoop and that’s that on that

Lindy the SEO bitch • easilysearchablebrandname

other bakers: [make the snack] Foggy Nelson: [is the snack]

sayid’s secret account! • sayidsayless

I didn’t hear who won star baker, I didn’t see who got sent home, l learned nothing about sweet dough, I was busy googling foggy nelson Instagram foggy nelson partner foggy nelson star sign 

hb lovecraft • hazelbleu

I've already decided to call out sick from work tomorrow so I can spend the whole day watching the inevitable Foggy fancams that will come from this week’s GABO. It’s my duty as an American.

go gert go • yorkestown

if there’s any uneven bakes this week, we all know it’s because Foggy was simply too hot to handle and it threw off everyone’s baking times

SORRY 4 PARTY BROCKIN’ • attackthebrock

foggy saying that one thing he loves about bakeoff is never having a shortage of people to share his bakes with, because normally it’s just up to his partner to finish them. ME AND WHO TBH????

nora mcclain 👻🥀🖤 • themostest

Foggy explaining the hot cross bun recipe he’s making prompted my (allegedly) straight husband to say, out of nowhere, “I’d let him put a bun in MY oven!” Like, sir??? I’m right here???

stardew valley girl • wooloolemon

it’s crazy how many babies are going to be born nine months from the airing of Great American Bake-Off Season 3 Episode 6

Tolkien Straightguy • helmsdeepthroat

it’s pretty normal for me to end an episode of bake-off hungrier than I was before, but I’ve never finished one this THIRSTY my god

maddie📍grad school hell • doctorwormphd

seeing foggy with those french braids made me crazy y’all!! I almost redownloaded tinder I was so lost in the sauce

blandine montpetit ☮️💟 • peaceandloafs

Ava’s star baker moment was so deserved, I’m just sorry we were all too distracted by Foggy being the cutest human alive to really appreciate it. But not sorry enough that it won’t happen again.

+

“We’ve strayed very far from the light of god, I think,” Foggy says, with his face pressed into the sticky surface of the table, which…yeah, bad idea, but one of many he’s had tonight. Matt pats the back of his neck with a hand that was maybe supposed to be more in the direction of his head and ended up somewhere more weirdly intimate by accident. Foggy lifts his head to put an end to it, not because it didn’t feel nice but precisely because it did and that in turn makes him feel a bunch of messy emotions he doesn’t like. “Karen, what are you doing? Are there more?”

“Yes, but they’re getting a little redundant, honestly,” she says, squinting at his phone’s screen. “Everybody wants you to impregnate them, apparently.”

Matt chokes on air at the same time as Foggy chokes on his beer, so it takes both of them a few seconds to recover and respond. 

“They what?” Matt asks, looking pale.

“The power of a new hairstyle,” Karen says, with a self-satisfied smile, though she directs it at Matt, for some reason. They have a lot more meaningful looks and mysterious half-conversations these days than they used to before Foggy went away to film the show. At least, that’s how it feels to him and if Karen didn’t have a boyfriend that she seemed to love a lot, he’d be worried that she and Matt were going to try dating again, for all it was a disaster the (admittedly brief) first time. Instead, it feels like they developed a shorthand while he was away and, granted he also made a bunch of close friends who he essentially talks to in baking-themed twin speak, it still makes him feel strange. He didn’t think him being away for the time that he was would change so much, but apparently it did. Matt and Karen speak in code now, and the Internet wants to fuck him. Life is strange.

“Do you really talk about me on the show that much?” Matt asks, apropos of nothing, it feels like.

“What? What do you mean?”

“A lot of those tweets referenced you talking about your partner,” Matt replies, looking thoughtful. “That’s me, I assume.”

“Yes, obviously,” Foggy says as his face heats. “Why shouldn’t I talk about you?”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t. I just didn’t realize it was enough to be noticeable.”

“One thing I’ve learned about the Bake-Off viewers is that they notice everything,” Foggy says. “And I don’t mean to talk about you a lot, but you’re important to me and you’re in most of my stories and…all that…”

Matt seems to be thinking hard about that, while Karen is sitting with her chin resting in the palm of her hand, still scrolling through Foggy’s phone. 

“What are you doing over there, Page?” Foggy asks, in the hopes of distracting everyone from the corny admission he just made that got met with silence. 

“Just sending a few of these to my phone,” she says, with a sheepish look. “I want to show Frank.”

“God, no!” Foggy yelps as he reaches out to snatch his phone back. “I don’t need Frank knowing about these! It’s bad enough Matt had to hear them!”

“Why is it bad for me to know?” Matt asks, startled out of his reverie by the mention of his name.

“Because you think all of this is stupid!”

“All of what? Twitter?”

“No,” Foggy sighs, and then thinks it over. “I mean, I assume you do think Twitter is largely stupid, actually—”

“And you’d be right,” Karen adds.

“What I meant was you think all this stuff about the show is stupid.”

“No, I don’t,” Matt says, frowning. “I mean, I confess I don’t understand half the stuff you say on the show or about it, but that doesn’t mean I think it’s stupid. If anything, it makes me think I’m stupid.”

“Well, you certainly can’t be impressed by everything Karen just read us,” Foggy replies, gesturing with his phone. He’s aware, in the back of his mind, that he’s doing that thing you’re never supposed to do and negotiating against himself, but he can’t really stop it, for some reason. “It makes the fans of the show sound insane!”

“I understood even less of that than I do of the baking terminology, honestly,” Matt admits, “but I think most of those people have the right idea.”

“You mean, hitting on Foggy via Twitter? You think that’s the right move in this situation?” Karen asks, and there’s some kind of play acting going on in her tone, like she’s goading Matt about something that Foggy doesn’t have the context for.

“I’m saying Foggy’s loveable,” Matt replies to her with an unexpected amount of heat. “I don’t know why he acts like he isn’t.”

Foggy blinks at them, feeling like he’s stepped into the middle of an old argument he didn’t know about. “Am I still a part of this conversation, or…?”

Karen’s expression clears first and she turns to Foggy with a reluctantly amused expression, like she doesn’t know what to do with him, he’s so silly. “Of course you are! Matt and I were just agreeing about how great we think you are! That’s all!”

“Yeah, sure,” Foggy replies. It sure as hell didn’t sound like two people agreeing on anything, but he’s willing to let it go. “Well, if I’ve learned anything from this uncomfortable incident, it’s that I should braid my hair more often.”

“And that you look good in that salmon-colored shirt,” Karen adds, helpfully. 

“Which is too bad, because I spilled ink all over it a few weeks ago.”

“Writing with a quill again?” Matt asks, innocently.

“No, I was helping Ruthie,” Foggy says, rolling his eyes when Matt’s smiles stupidly at his own joke. “Her newest hobby is calligraphy.”

“I thought she was into knitting now?” Karen says.

“Old news,” Foggy replies. “I’m just praying her next kick is baking so it can be something I’m even remotely good at.”

“I suppose it’s too much to ask that she gets really interested in reading up on legal precedent, huh?” Matt asks, thoughtfully.

“Yeah, probably,” Foggy laughs. “The point is, my magical salmon shirt that apparently makes me irresistible to random people on the Internet is out of commission.”

“Oh, well,” Karen sighs. “You’ll just have to subsist on the attentions of your local admirers.”

Foggy takes a sip of his beer. “I wasn’t aware I had any of those,” he says.

“Probably a lot more than you think,” she says, and she’s giving Matt another one of those weird looks again. Foggy decides it’s probably safer not to ask, and resolves to change the subject instead.

#i don't know what this is but it's done i tell youuu hwhat #it does not work that well for the prompt but what can you do #hws30days #homelywenchsociety #that's my writing tag! don't worry about it! #bakeoff au #the gbbo au #mattfoggy #daredevil #foggy nelson #matt murdock #karen page #writing challenge #series: how sweet it is

[kellodrawsalot]

so wanted to post a fast review of a series, I did not expect to like, people I followed pretty much called it a trashfire and there were jokes all over social media over the quality of it's story and it's lackluster animation, so I went in with the mindset not too expect too much and well...

it''s pretty good?

wait no wat, it's pretty good, i myself am confused I enjoyed it alot, did I watched the same show as the people who hated it?

don't get me wrong the series has problems, the swearing gets a bit tirdesome and the pacing is all over the place. The show takes a lesson from spiderverse and lego movies by not giving its viewer any room to breath, Every scene is important to one of the major plot threads, episode 4 is a triggering episode that you should read upront on, that i can't comment on. The character desings are a hit and miss and not all the jokes land. But when the show wants to tell it's story, wants you to get to know the characters you can't help but get so invested and wanting to learn more. The different plot threads that it starts are all major good that you want to keep following the story. But what I like most about the show that it's not a cast of a ''nuclear'family or a group of high school teenagers or a group of super heroes. No it's a weird mixed of very troubling (sinners) adults in a found-family situation.

The story is about the Princess of Hell named Charlie who opened a Hotel in the hope she could redeem Sinners so they can go to heaven and avoid slaughter by the angels, that happens once a year, but due to angel Adam (yes that Adam) being a dick, the slaugher will happen again in just six MONTHS.

and that's all i need to tell you, a big theme about this series is Redemption and that it does it nicely well. The interaction between the characters is also majorly fun and let's just say there is a reason the Ost of Hazbin Hotel has been trending on Spotify it's freaking good.

The pacing doesn't bother me too much myself because Hazbin remindds me of a musical/stageplay and I love those.

(the Seramyu musicals are btw really good. give them a watch too)

regardless if you don't like HH that's all fine but I think one of the best things about it' being a hit, (it's one of the top shows on prime in over thirty countries) that in a time where big studios play it safe by having most adult cartoons follow the simpsons formula, try to copy the rick and morty style of storytelling, or in case of Disney and Marvel today, with Bob Iger saying they be focussing on big franchises and sequels for now, trying to shift the blame on original stories on why their movies aren't doing good. (despite them not even promoting said og movies and making the writers play it super SAFE) we have Hazbin Hotel, an animated show for adults that is so Unapologetic, Queer! Doesn't follow any save formula, is such an obvious passion project and is a huge hit! Last time I was this impressed was with Netflix Pluto and Nimona. HH is also a series I would love to see on stage! Hazbin Hotel is not for everyone but I would suggest give it a chance instaed of letting social media decide for you. (which i know you can disgard my post too, but I just wanted to say, I'm glad me and my friends watched this series and just ignored most of the hate, because we all enjoyed it and are playing the songs on repeat lolol)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel review

[kcuf-ad]

who are your top ten favorite black clover characters and ships (platonic or romantic) - talk about them

Oh boy this is going to be a long one, so Here we go.

The Characters

This is in no order, but these are my favourite. I have only watched up to episode 86.

Finral, this guy is a ride to watch. He is basically the little Brother friend of the Black Bulls and is clearly the only reason why they haven't died yet. His growth as character was a Great one to watch, both in combat as he managed to stall Langris for a bit, creating a New Spell, and even playing the key part of defeating Vetto with Vanessa and Asta. Everyone bullies him and his Rizz is pathetic and I love him.

Charmy is a character that honestly surprised me at how much I liked. I mean she is a gluton, but isn't afraid to share her food. She is easily the kindest of the Black Bulls, but is disrespful and I love her. I Like how her fights are the quickest in the show, with one or three punches and I love her Magic. I love how she wanted to eat Bell all for Yuno. I also think her crush on Yuno is adorable to me.

Luck is so fun to watch. Easily the most fun. His story is quite tragic and the way he was abused and looked down on everyone was sad to watch along. I like his character trait of his constant smile, and when he isn't smiling, you know she is about to get real. Also, his relationship with Magna as besties is so Damn Nice to watch.

Noelle is basically what you want to write with a female character, no joke. Strong? Yes. Important to the story? Yes. Growth both as a character and in power? Yes. Personality? Yes. She is a top tier female character.

Sekke mainly because how much he gets bullied by Jack, Yami and the rest of the cast.

Klaus mainly because he went from "Listen Here Yuno, just because you have a 4 leaf clover and was chosen my Vangence, doesn't mean I Will treat you the same way and you will Listen to me, no matter what." To "Yuno, did you brush your teeth today? Your hair doesn't look as clean as before. Have you eaten anything lately?". Mom friend.

Magna has been a fun character for sure, and the Fact Here has so much growth and trust in his friends. His friendship with Luck is Great, and I think he gets bullied as much as Finral.

Asta is the best New gen Protag and it isn't even close. This man embodies the idea of never giving up. No matter where he is, no matter how much he is down, he Will never give up as his Magic is never giving up. His weakness is his Greatest strength. He isn't special, but that's what makes him special. His fights are so interesting at how he uses his main Weapon and I love his rivalry with Yuno.

Yami is a retired Shonen protag. I mean think about it. He is from a different country, treated as an outsider, he has a rival with a goal in mind, has the Will to get stronger, his mentor becames a leader of a country and he has an unique skill of ki. Not to mention he is disrespect incarnate, disrespecting everyone left and right while he is on the floor.

Yuno is my favourite rival in all of anime. Sasuke is my favourite rival character, but as a rival Yuno is the best at it. He mirrors Asta in every way. He never discourages in Asta, hr has complete trust in his best friend. He looks Like an arrogant prick, but is just some shy, introverted boy who loves competition.

The Ships

For this, I have more platonic than romantic.

Asta x Yuno (platonic) - The best friendship and rivalry in all anime. Grew up as brothers and never gave up on each other and they truly care about each other.

Yami x Julius (platonic) - I Like it because od Yami's loyality to his mentor and friend, the trust between each other and that Julius was the first person to accept him.

Magna x Luck (platonic) - Basically, one who loves prankijg the other and the one that gets prankes, but they truly and deeply care about each other. Also the Fact that Magna was Luck's first friend is cute to me.

Mars x Fana (romantic) - Come on, how can I not? Mars was going to Fana's hot flames, burning up outside and inside, hugging her which was strong enough to break her out of it as they stated at each other for a long time with massive smiles on their faces.

Klaus x Asta/Yuno (platonic) - all because I love the idea of him Being the biggest mom friend to them

Vanessa x Finral (platonic/romantic) - can't really choose. I Like how both of them are so close to each other, and I Like that their main Arcs also feature the other.

Asta x Noelle (romantic) - A good hetero ship that doesn't make the female character the Protag's future baby mama, but instead encourages her to be stronger than ever and go beyond her past and limit? Sign me up!

Yami x Charlotte (romantic) - basically a girlboss feminist that could wreck anyone's shit in love with the closest looking homeless man on the planet. You love to see it.

Yuno x Charmy (romantic) - I just find it extremely cute at how flustered Charmy is around Yuno, how she would fight Bell for Yuno, gives him treats, and that Yuno doesn't think anything badly about Charmy, and how they net was adorable.

#thanks for the ask #black clover #luck voltia #magna swing #finral roulacase #asta #yuno #yami sukehiro #klaus lunettes #sekke bronzazza #charmy pappitson #noelle silva #mars x fana #yami x charlotte #yuno x charmy #finral x vanessa #asta x noelle