#work helped but now i’m back home and i can’t find any real distractions to help

[stilesscott]

.

#do not ask i just need to rant #i’ve been crying basically non-stop and i have a constant headache FROM the crying #work helped but now i’m back home and i can’t find any real distractions to help #and i just wanna cry again #it literally feels like everything is ending and i can’t DO anything to stop it #i can’t do anything to help and nothing CAN help #i wanna still hope but i feel like such bad person wanting to hope #i’ve been panicky and anxious #i can’t barely eat #i just want it to stop and be over and it won’t be #not soon #and honestly it feels like it won’t ever be #also to tag on i’m NOT going to k myself so if you read this i am okay #it just sucks and is hard right now #so fucking hard idk what to do #sydney whines

[yelenassafeplace]

| The sex tape

Again sorry for my bad English, I’m French and still have a lot to learn. Anyway please do not translate or re upload this oneshot. Thank you.

pairing: porncontentcreator!Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Author's note: really fucking poorly written scenario bcs I was lazy and just wanted to write about Spencer being a porn content creator. Just filthy smut in general, sorry for your eyes.

Warnings: porn content related, sex tape, camera involved, unprotected p in v, clit stimulation, creampie, gf and bf dynamic, unprotected sex, no use of y/n, praise kink, Spencer talks you through it (slightly), tell me if I should add more warnings.

You knew what Spencer did in addition to his job in the FBI. He had told you everything before you got in a relationship with him because he didn’t want to have any secrets between the two of you. And you were grateful for that.

You were the only one who knew though, and nobody suspected anything. But it wasn’t really surprising. How would they even think of the shy and awkward Spencer Reid being a porn content creator?

It was…unthinkable.

You had talked about it a lot. You had asked him if it was for the money and he had awkwardly explained to you that it wasn’t, that he got off to being recorded and the thought that people would watch and compliment him.

He never interacted with the viewers tho. He read comments, yes, but it wasn’t really his thing to get into this type of relations. He only recorded, posted, got an ego boost from the comments and that’s it.

To be honest it doesn’t bother you, you even enjoy it as you now often find yourself masturbating to his videos when he’s away for work because of a new case.

He never shows his face, for obvious reasons, and only films his hands, legs and cock. And it’s perfection.

The first time you had looked up for his account on pornhub, you had just gotten back home from a date with him. You two had never did more than preliminaries because he was trying to hold himself back. He didn’t want to move too fast and mess it all up, he was a gentleman after all.

But this night, oh boy, you had came so many times to his videos while stuffing yourself with your dildo that you had literally sent him texts where you begged him to come over and fuck you.

You didn’t know what was going on with you to act this desperate but this man was doing something to you without even being in your apartment. But he got the message and came right over to do what you had both waited for so long.

Fast forward to 7 months later of a healthy relationship and really good sex, you were now completely comfortable with each other and didn’t hesitate to ask to try new things in the bedroom. And most of the time things went as smooth as butter.

And this time, he has a bold request. A sex tape.

He somehow managed to convince you to try and record yourselves having sex. You were reticent at first, not really feeling comfortable with having a video of you being intimate together and post it. But curiosity got the best of you. You wanted to know how he felt like when he was recording himself and see how your bodies moved together when you were being intimate. So you agreed.

Of course, you will still not be going to show your faces. It’s a little tricky since you have a lot of tattoos but foundation and setting powder did an actually good job so everything is good.

But now that you are laying completely bare on his bed, your legs opened wide enough for him to fit between them and his hands making their way up and down your thighs slowly to warm you up while a cam recorder was rolling and capturing the moment; it feels all too real.

You can’t help but get distracted every time your eyes land on the camera, resulting with your body cooling down slightly again.

He kissed down your jaw to your neck to help you relax.

"Relax, baby."

His warm breath tickled your neck as he whispered in your ear, your body melting at his voice.

"Focus on me."

You sigh and nod, closing your eyes and trying to enjoy his touch and kisses.

Soon enough, your lewd moans and whines of pleasure fills the room as one of his hands rests on your right breast, the pad of his index gently brushing against your nipple while his cock slides through your folds with every movement of his hips, the tip catching on your sensitive clit.

"That’s it…There’s my pretty girl."

Before you can even moan out at his praise, his lips press against yours for the sweetest kiss ever. And even tho the camera doesn’t catch it because of the angle to preserve your identities, the love and longing can be felt in the atmosphere.

"You’re so wet…"

He lets out a hum, grabbing his cock and pumping it a few times before prodding against your hole and pushing himself inside. You let out a little gasp and whine at his size, feeling a slight burning sensation from the stretch, but only for a few seconds before you get used to him.

"Spe…"

You catch yourself before saying his real name, almost having forgotten the camera and being too used to moan and scream out his name while you fuck.

"Baby…"

You whine pathetically as he starts to thrust slowly and deep, a hand wrapping around your throat.

"Yeah? What is it, Candy?”

He looks down at you with dark and lust filled eyes, a little smirk playing on his lips while he uses the nickname he decided to give you for this occasion. He couldn’t believe how easily you became cock drunk for him.

"Y-You’re so deep…"

“Yeah, I know baby. You take me so well."

You moan at the praise and close your eyes when he picks up the pace.

"Oh look at that…"

He mumbles with a wide smile before tightening his grip on your throat slightly and tilts your head towards his camera, the screen turned in your direction so you can watch yourselves. You look at the screen with half lidded eyes as he thrusts faster into you, making you forget the awkwardness and shame you felt just a moment ago.

A loud moan escape your lips as he reaches your sensitive spot and keeps ramming into it, watching as your boobs bounce up and down and how the impact of his thighs against your ass makes it jiggle slightly with every harsh thrust.

"S’good…I’m close.."

You whine out and cry out as you hide your face against his neck after he releases your throat.

"I can feel it honey.."

He grunts out and grabs your thighs, his fingers digging into your flesh and his grip tightening as he pushes your thighs up and against your chest to fuck you from a new angle. He moans as you flutter around him and reaches down to rub your clit, knowing that you were nearing the edge.

You come a few seconds later, holding onto him tightly and scratching his back with your nails as your body shakes and tenses up through your orgasm. He continues to rub your clit and pound you, only coming when he manages to make you squirt all over his cock and the bedsheets. He moans and his hips stutters as he fills you with his cum, fucking it deep inside your pussy before pulling out once he’s satisfied.

You’re panting and seeing stars behind your closed eyelids when he gets up and retrieves his camera before going back to the bed, kneeling on it and spreading your folds to record his cum slowly dripping from your pussy before pressing the button to stop the recording. He discards his camera on the bedside table and lays down next to you.

You instinctively roll on your side, knowing that he was going to want to cuddle with you after that and make sure you’re okay.

"Everything good?”

He holds you against his chest and gently caresses your lower back.

"Yeah. Just a little tired"

You open your eyes and smile when his face and curls comes into view. He really is your handsome man.

"Good."

He smiles and kisses your nose.

"I might keep this video for myself actually…"

He says with an hint of possessiveness underlying in his tone.

“Oh yeah?"

"Yes."

He smiles and presses his lips against yours for a firm kiss before pulling away.

"Don’t move I’ll go get you a towel and a glass of water."

Now it was time for aftercare.

_________

Yup that’s it for me have a great day, personally I’m going to sleep

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #+18 only #yelenasdirtythoughts #yelenassafeplace #smut #mdni #criminal minds #spencer reid smut

[picturesofthegoneworlds]

When Imogen wakes it is with an ache in her neck

a drop into reality unusually cushioned

a hand combing through her hair

and she can’t help the smile that breaks when she meets Laudna’s watchful eyes peering down at her, flushes shortly after.

“Sorry, did I fall asleep?”

Laudna smiles back at her, halts the hand playing with her hair.

“You did.”

An unspoken mutual agreement allows the moment to stretch in silence –

that or time is still fucky from Imogen only just waking up. It gives her enough of it to contemplate.

The sun must be high, the atmosphere muggy and the fauna all bustling as if it were a market day and the critters had stalls to set up and produce to bring home for their litters in the burrows. She feels the layer of sweat on her skin wherever the sun directly touches it, smells in waves where it heats the floor and diffuses the groundcover as if it were potpourri-

Above her, backlit - Laudna’s wearing a halo. The giant leaves of the giant trees are so high above them that the scale almost looks normal, the light breaking between the canopy in beams, sparkling in places where it catches insect wings and pollen, silhouetting edges of wiry strands of hair that act as though curtains on a canopy bed, all giving cover from the storm (should it come). It all feels so hazy, could be the vision starting to turn to grains of sand in her eyes like before a migraine but it’s also unusually clear, her head weightless despite the aching neck – funny what a handful of hours of good sleep can do.

The unspoken mutual agreement is ended.

“Did you rest well?” what did you dream about?

“I did, yeah...”

Unintentional, excusable really - waking with her defences down.

Wouldn’t be outta the ordinary to share.

“…dreamt we were back at Oddrún’s, was nice-” she withholds the details, just to save a little face. Exposes it anyhow, when she finds herself inadvertently taking the hand that had stilled in her hair, holding her palm up above her head with Laudna's lying flat on top of it “-then the roof caved in again and the place got swarmed with birds.”

“Birds?”

Imogen's thumb traces the knife-edge of the long nail on Laudna’s.

“Birds.” Imogen confirms, distracted, half-awake, giddy. The word already sounds funny; thrown back and forth between them. She chuckles at how her lips form around the repetition of it, says it again in Marquesian to see if it feels as abstract- that causes Laudna to quirk her brow from behind the fan of their fingers. “All different kinds, real cute and stuff, mostly. Place got furnished in feathers, was pretty chaotic - parakeets nestin’ in the cups and saucers and kingfishers in the rafters…” Laudna exhales a single syllable of a choral chuckle and Imogen has never felt so relaxed. “There was a kinda shady lookin’ big one standin’ on one leg in the corner by the hearth though, kept squawkin’.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, think it was a shoebill. You ever seen one of those?”

“You know, I’m not sure. I wonder if there was any significance…”

Their fingers interlace, under Laudna's initiative. Imogen stares at the long nails now reaching to her wrist like plates of fine ebony gauntlets.

“I could try draw it for y’all, but I don’t think it’d help…” comes out audibly distracted, the points of Laudna's talons gently making contact with Imogen's scarred skin-

“Allow me to get my notebook~” Laudna enthusiastically sings – nearly cutting Imogen, their hands separating - and Imogen is left staring at the empty space that was occupied by the shape that the two of them made, wonders if there is a word for that, like ‘bird’ - each hand a wing of some amalgamation, dream chimera, released between palms.

Probably a word she doesn’t have the language for.

Laudna unthreaded their hands and after that, she doesn’t move.

Imogen remembers her position in her lap

sits up abruptly on her bedroll, turning back towards Laudna’s skirts with the same instinct as for making a bed

“No, really, I can’t draw. It’ll just be embarrassin’. It won’t help any.”

“It’s good to draw regardless-”

Imogen would call what falls on Laudna’s face a pout. Hates that she is, unsurprisingly, intrigued to see what lines the pages of Laudna’s notebook. Apparently hearing inside her head is not enough.

Greedy. (maybe she’s hungry?). Gods, Laudna’s been sat cross-legged with Imogen's thick heavy skull in her lap for hours. How does Imogen show her gratitude?

“-have you even eaten? I should make us breakfast.”

She clumsily scatters away before Laudna has the chance to really answer.

(thanks as always to @distant--shadow for the illustrations <3)

#Imodna #Imogen Temult #Laudna #Critical Role #Bells Hells #Fanfic #Emma writes

[johnslittlespoon]

https://www.tumblr.com/johnslittlespoon/749533871172993024/tryna-study-but-puppy-bucky-brain-rot-how?source=share

ACTUALLY GOING INSANE RIGHT NOW, YOU GET IT SAM YOU GET ITTT.

I can’t believe I’m reading this at a wedding right now. I’m sitting in a corner far away from my family just in case. I may or may not be obsessing over this right now, who needs religion imma be praying to this every night.

The way Gale would never be harsh or mean to John and even when he is he never means it because he sees so much of himself in John (specifically him when he was younger) and how he knows what it feels like having a shitty dad and not feeling at home in your own house. He’d try his best to make John feel at home and safe in his house even if it does take a while. Even if sometimes John is “too much”/self-sabotaging, Gale sees through it and understands it’s just John is scared of losing him.

The way John would just walk around the house waiting for Gale to come back from work, literally trying to find anything to keep him distracted. He’d probably do some school work and if he doesn’t have any, do some housework like cook or clean the house (Like some type of housewife holyldkfijf, Gale would definitely tease him about it). And yes he would definitely raid Gale’s closet for his hoodie to chill around the house in it, maybe even fall asleep in it and Gale would come back from work to find him on the couch, hugging himself with the hoodie on. (Just imagining John’s smaller body wearing one of Gale’s big ass baggy hoodies…)

And oh how they would fight and how angsty it could get but at the end of the day both can’t be apart without each other and would eventually apologize and talk it out, how John would probably lock himself away after a fight but eventually come out and see Gale on the sofa head in hands and he’d just walk up to him and hug him. They’d stay there for hours on end just laying and cuddling and Gale would whisper sorry’s and comforting words/praises into John’s ear.

The oral cockwarming is so perfect because it lets John just relax and focus on one thing and that’s pleasuring Gale, which he loves and wants to do so badly (The people pleaser in him and also thinking it’s another reason for Gale keeping him around, whoops more angst. Obviously not the reason Gale keeps him around but John’s self-sabotaging is always there in the back of his mind.) Gale also returning the favor to John helps him see that he does love him beyond anything sexual and Gale knows this. In any situation, Gale would always show John just how much he loves him and genuinely appreciates him as a person and that he isn’t some kind of burden. The praises he whispers to John when he cockwarms him also help with that.

Anyway, *cough* *cough* can you tell I'm absolutely obsessed? Your writing and the things you come up with are just chefs kiss. Take your time and absolutely no pressure but I really can’t wait till you turn this into a full fic. THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME GOTTA GO BACK TO THE WEDDING NOW <333

linked post | PLSSS at a wedding lmfaoo no but that's so real. this leaving!bikerider shit is taking over my life fml

YES EXACTLY!! to tackle the angst first: there would be sooo many dots connected with gale's own childhood/upbringing/relationship with his dad that he would see in john, and it would make him even more fiercely protective and determined to make sure he never ever makes john feel the way his dad made him feel, or how john's dad makes john feel. when he's frustrated with john, he can usually trace it back to a behaviour he himself used to do, and he can realize that it's out of insecurity, or anxiety, or fear, etc.

he knows sometimes he just has to let john push and test boundaries, because as long as he patient and proves to john he will never raise his voice, or lay a hand on him, or abandon him, john will realize that he's someone he can let his walls down with and trust fully, and over time he'll stop feeling the need to push. he just needs to be shown consistency and stability and unwavering love. :(

there's also the fact that this is john's first longterm/serious relationship outside of highschool, whereas gale's had a lot more experience and time to learn communication skills (it's something he still finds himself coming up short with a lot though).

they're on very opposite sides of the spectrum when it comes to fights/arguments. for gale, some issues that might seem small/insignificant might feel really big for john; for example, the way gale words something after a long stressful day might sound at worst blunt to him, but to john it might sound like gale's being short and is angry about something john hasn't figured out yet, so then tension builds.

again, circling back round to insecurity on john's part because of how he's grown up, and circling round to gale needing to work on communication skills because he's not used to having to since he's usually on his own if he's not around friends. and yk, daddy issues on both ends lol.

i think also their ways of trying to resolve conflict would differ from each other, so it would be something they both have to learn to compromise on too. like you said, john is for sure the type to lock himself away or leave the house to get some air and calm himself down, anything he can do to self–isolate until he feels ready to talk, whereas i feel like gale is the type to either brush past it and assume it's no big deal/it'll blow over, and/or the type to want to sort things out the moment something happens, to talk it out until it's resolved. and obviously those immediate reactions to conflict kinda grate on each other, so they have to figure out how to balance things out.

but john's an easy crier and he feels just as guilty when he blows up and walks out on gale as gale does when he's too blunt or harsh when they're arguing, and neither of them can ever go to bed upset with each other. by the time john comes back home, the reflexive anger/hurt has always seeped out and made room for quiet sadness and guilt, and all he wants to do is find gale and attach himself to him and mumble his apologies and be held (and in turn have the relief of the confirmation that gale still wants to hold him.) or if john's shut himself away in the spare room or is sulking on the back porch, gale will be the one to go to him and crouch down in front of him and take his hands in his and ask what he needs, and ask if they can talk. <3

angst aside, YEAH. john doesn't mind being alone sometimes, but in general he's very social and gets his energy and good mood from being around other people, so if gale's at work and his friends are busy and he doesn't have any studying to be done, he keeps himself busy around the house (which also helps alleviate his guilt over 'intruding', or gale not letting him pay rent, because he can feel like he's making himself useful.)

and gale without a doubt teases him about it, calls him his little housewife one day when he comes home to john cooking and pounces on the way it makes john flush, wrapping his arms around him from behind and pulling him and murmuring "yeah? you like waiting for me to get home, like a cute little housepet?" and it's all banter, but it gets to both of them more than they expect. >:)

it definitely does gale in too when he sees john get comfortable enough to start stealing his clothes like that, loving how he looks in them and feeling his heart soften with the knowledge that john still wants a piece of him as close as possible when he's not with him. (he also lays john out on the couch and fucks him in nothing but gale's hoodie the first time he comes home to that <3)

and yes to the sex dynamic stuff, 100%. gale never gives john any reason to believe that he's only in it for sex, especially since gale's the one who holds off on jumping into hooking up straight away, but john does worry sometimes at the beginning until he starts to feel secure with gale. i think gale would be aware of this being a possible issue too and it would contribute to him keeping things slow at first because he wants to establish to john that he's not just a pretty body to him.

and as time goes on gale realizes how he can use stuff like gentle submission/instruction/etc like in that cockwarming drabble to get john out of his head, to help him relax, etc without directly asking john to take breaks or calm down, because john is stubborn and will work himself into the ground unless he sees that ask as something that benefits gale too. (they work on that, though.)

YEAH can you tell i'm obsessed too? this is cooked lmfaoaoo. but omg THANK U i will cry </33 i have so much fun writing all this shit out and bouncing ideas back and forth <33 i don't feel pressured dw!! i'm so excited to write the fic once i finish my current one :'-) thank you for YOUR time, hope the wedding was fun!!

#leaving bikerider au #sighghh so many good headcanons/dynamics for this au #i love me some conflict and then healthy conflict resolution <3 #and now i sleep #johnslittlespoon asks #johnslittlespoon brainrot #johnslittlespoon spicy #buckbucky

[criminalskies]

In Your Orbit. (reposting on new account)

Author’s Note: I’m more than willing to make a Part 2 for this if any of you are keen for one :) I also have plenty of other things in the works though now. Please enjoy and as always feedback is appreciated!

Word Count: 1.2k

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gender neutral reader.

Content Warnings: mention of anxiety, mentions of flying

Summary: Hotch doesn’t understand why the newest member of the team is so dedicated to spending all their time with him. He finally asks and he’s overjoyed with the answer. 

——————————=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=—————————

Five months. You’ve been with the BAU five months today. You are still in as much disbelief thinking of it now as you were all those months ago, receiving your offer for an interview. You applied for the position, a promising agent, but still fairly new to the field. You’d made a name for yourself, however, in record time, at the Crisis Negotiation Unit. You’ve always had a bottomless affinity for conversing with people. It grounds you. When you’re all alone or in a big crowd, the chatter in your mind and surroundings all becomes too overwhelming. Like a buzzing in the back of your mind, always there, always distracting you. It isn’t until you can look somebody in the eyes and connect your soul with theirs that you hear the cacophony stop. You can never swim in the silence too long, though, as the more you bask in the quiet, the more you lose it, the noise all returning. 

You’ve studied anxiety and sound processing disorders, you know you likely fit into one of the above boxes, if not both. But you can’t really bring yourself to have that added to your personnel file. So, you opt to use your affinity for conversation to your advantage. You’ve mastered reasoning with people. You can show them your complete undivided attention and gain theirs, opening the door for them to give you insight into their mind. This is the skill that allowed you to climb the ranks at the CNU, opening many doors to other opportunities including the BAU. 

Which led you where you are today, packing up boxes of files at a dusty old precinct in nowhere, Pennsylvania. But funnily enough, there’s nowhere you’d rather be. You have found a place for yourself in the big wide world. In a team of individuals you feel so privileged to get the chance to know and love. You’re finally getting in a real groove with everybody in your work, moving in sync with the rest of the team like you’d been here for a lifetime. 

You find yourself the most in-step with Hotch. You’ve been inexplicably drawn to him in every aspect of your work. Like now, about to board the jet home, Hotch as usual takes his long strides to the very back of the plane. But you’re never far behind him, claiming the seat across from him like always. He pulls out his laptop and you, your book. You enjoy reading, it’s another of those little things that manages to dull the buzzing in your head. 

The rest of the team files into the jet, stowing their bags and pulling out something to busy their restless minds and hands for the flight home. This case wasn’t all too bad. You feel like your theories really helped, you’re getting the hang of all this profiling stuff. It was your input that was able to narrow Garcia’s suspect list from 76 names down to 2. You feel like you’re becoming an increasingly capable and valuable member of the team. You look out the window, enjoying your mercurial high of having cracked the case a while before you turn back to the rest of the team. Reid, Rossi, Prentiss, JJ and Derek are all playing some card game down by the couches, clearly also in high spirits from today’s win. Turning back, you feel Hotch’s eyes boring into you. He’s staring at you, looking like there are words tucked away in his mouth, itching to come out. “You okay, Hotch? Looks like you’ve got something on your mind.” You offer. He’ll probably deny it. He’s not the most vulnerable person at the best of times. You have, however, witnessed him come out of his shell more in your short time with him than the team had made out he was even capable of doing. You remember being warned of him being a drill sergeant, only to find out that’s not true. 

“Why do you always sit with me here?” “Pardon?” you’re taken aback by his question. You always thought he didn't mind having you here with him, but maybe you misread him. Maybe he really does just want to be by himself. “Ever since you joined this team, you’ve always chosen to be near me. To spend time with me. It just doesn’t make sense. I’m your boss, nobody ever chooses to spend time with their boss over spending time with their coworkers. Particularly when Reid is more your age, Prentiss is more in-tune with your sense of humor and you clearly have great chemistry with Derek and your flirting. Why not join them and have fun?” He looks quite distant as you look into his eyes. He’s searching yours for any sign that he’s changed your mind, any sign you really would rather sit with your friends. 

“Well, I get very easily um, overwhelmed, in crowds or groups like that. It can happen with anybody really. But not with you. I’ve never felt like I’m doing mental gymnastics to keep track of a conversation with you. I think you’re my comfort person, Hotch. You radiate this… calmness, that I can never really feel when I’m away from you. Normally, my mind runs at a million miles per hour, and I feel like I’m juggling six things at once just waiting for them all to slip from my grasp. But you’re very centering. I think it’s the gentle way you speak to people and conduct yourself. I hope that’s not weird to say. I just feel this warmth, this quietness when I’m with you, and my mind stills for the first time in my life. I never worry about what you’ll do next, you’re always… Hotch.” You worry you’ve said too much until you see a blush spreading up his cheeks. He’s trying to bite back a smile, his dimples giving him away, clearly happy to hear that you aren’t just sitting with him out of pity or obligation. 

“I feel very… comfortable with you as well, I think the warmth thing has more to do with us being near the jet engine, unfortunately.” You burst out laughing, Hotch’s dry kind of humor never failing to catch you off guard. “But seriously, thank you.” Hotch makes a note to ask Garcia to explain to him what a ‘comfort person’ is later, although he thinks he gets the picture. When she does explain it to him, he decides that is definitely the way he feels about you, too. 

He never does miss the empty seat across from him. He used to put his feet up on it to sleep, too tall for the jet recliners, but he thinks he likes having you here a whole lot better. He never does question you about your relationship again, even as ‘Hotch’ becomes ‘Aaron’ and the seat next to him becomes yours permanently, even as his shoulder becomes your own sleeping pillow for the jet, he never needs to ask. He now understands how the two of you just move like magnets, wherever you go, he’ll follow. He’s more than content just being in your orbit, forever. 

#Still reposting my old works. Please bear with me. my loves #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x gn!reader #aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader #hotch x reader #hotch x gn!reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner oneshot

[axel-skz]

I dream we will meet again </3

A/N: I HAVE BEEN SPELLING HYUNES NAME WRONG THIS WHOLE TIME OMG!! I’m like not even slightly aware of anything ever. I cannot for the life of me spell seungmin right… now I find out it’s actually hyunjun… not hyunJIN?! I would pass away. But unfortunately, it’s not in my cards.||| Lmao, turns out that could be wrong but you know what, I’m just gonna spell it hyunjin. Idc. NOW, song roulette time… we get Scars :)

Summary: You and Hyunjin broke up and this is aftermath.

Hyunjin x g/n reader

It was a terrible break up. Your heart felt like it had been juiced for all it’s life blood then ran over, with a monster trucks tough uncle.

For the past week, you spent your time living the hobo life in your apartment. You didn’t go to work all week and definitely didn’t get together with friends.

You spent your days in the same routine, it always happened when you felt like you were having a crisis.

Tonight though, you made a mistake. When your mind told you to check on him, see if he was doing better, you didn’t fight it. Usually, you could find it in you to distract yourself. Tonight was another story. You couldn’t resist.

It was a mistake. The most recent post on the official page for hyunjun was him going to some versace event.

It was infuriating for you, as your eyes filled with tears, his life didn’t stop when you left. Your entire world seemed to have ended but here was this man meeting dua lipa. AGAIN. The universe had some audacity.

You weren’t even the reason for the breakup. You gave him your all but he wasn’t giving you nearly the same back.

You gave into a second urge and went to his secret account. You hadn’t unfollowed it and he hadn’t removed you either… let’s not delve into that…

He had put up his photography from his trip. You scrolled through the pictures with tears in your eyes and a weight on your heart.

You couldn’t help yourself and you scrolled through more pictures. It made you miss him more and more.

You were stupid now because you went to your chat and looked at your old messages. The oldest ones were so cute. It slowly got… less cute…

Least cute of all was when you dropped your phone on your face and called him. It couldn’t get any worse. Except… he picked up.

Before you could hear anything at all, you dropped the call. You threw your phone across the room and sat there with your hand covering your mouth while you stared in its direction.

No. Way. Is this real life?

You got nothing else after. No texts checking why you did that, nothing to follow up in anyway.

The next three days went by… awkwardly… you were coming home with groceries dangling everywhere as you went up the stairs. As you looked up, there he was… at your door… you stood there. Stunned.

‘Really? I’m so paranoid I’m hallucinating now?’ You walked up to him. ‘Can’t you leave me alone? I can’t even have my own mind?’

Hyunjin looked concerned, ‘did you hit your head? Slip and fall somewhere?’ He reached and took the groceries form you and that’s when you realised, this is real.

You turned around and went back down the stairs.

‘I’m gonna be here no matter where you go!! You have to come back! You just gave me your food and I know you hate sharing!’

You stopped, he knew you too well. You turned around quietly and slowly climbed back up the stairs. Cautiously you tried to grab your groceries back, as if doing it slowly would make him hand over his only upper hand. He leaned away and you looked up at him angrily.

‘I’m just here to talk… please?’

A/N: I’m sick. Yeah, I blame my laziness on that. HAH. I mean, I’m not winning here so I dont know why I’m laughing. Anyway, I can’t edit this later so You’ll have to check back if you want to see part 2 :)

#stray kids #skz #skz fanfic #skz imagines #skz x reader #hyunjin #stray kids angst #stray kids scenarios #angst #hwang hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids hurt/comfort #stray kids break up #love stray kids #skz hyunjin #skz hyung line #hyunjin x reader #fanfic #stray kids fanfic

[forget-you-morelike-fuck-you]

Heartwork- E.M. Pt. 8

You get another call from a long lost friend.

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 9 - Epilogue Masterlist

TW- Cursing, mentions of cheating, a bit angsty, pining

Pairings- Eddie X Reader

Word Count- 1,773

(Gif not mine, credit to owner!)

The next several days are spent lonely. Work and home, that’s it for you, except the dozens of calls to Eddie trying to talk. There’s a lot of worrying, a lot of crying, and a lot of missing Eddie. 

Maybe he didn’t think you wanted to kiss him? Maybe he didn’t really want to kiss you? Maybe it’s something else entirely... You want to know so bad what happened that night, but the only one who can tell you is avoiding you like the plague.  

As a week of not hearing from Eddie approaches, you sit on your couch, staring out your window. Another thing you’ve been doing a lot this week. You don’t know if it’s just to pass the time or if you’re hoping that Eddie spontaneously shows up with an explanation and an apology. Let’s be real, it’s probably the latter.  

Work is a good distraction. You pore over credit statements and numbers day after day, fixing problems and finding better solutions, turning it into a game. Numbers don’t lie. Numbers don’t leave you wondering what you did wrong.  

You get a call Friday from your mom, asking you to come to dinner, and you oblige, telling her that “No, Eddie won’t be joining me this time.” 

Through dinner, your parents can tell something’s wrong, but they don’t push it. Instead, they try to make conversation to help distract you. “Y/N,” your dad says, cutting through a piece of meatloaf. “We got a call last week from Y/BFF/N. She was looking for you. Did you get to talk to her?” You look between your plate and your dad. You try to think of a good excuse as to why you haven’t talked to her without airing out Eddie’s dirty laundry.  

“No, I didn’t even know she called. My answering machine broke last week. Took a few days to get it fixed,” you explain. 

“Oh,” he says. “Well, she gave us her new phone number. I’ll give it to you and you can call her. I’m sure she’d love to speak to you after so long.” You nod at that, giving a small, tight smile. The dinner table is quiet again for a few minutes before your mom gives it a go. 

“Well, how’s Eddie? I’m sure you two have been having a lot of fun in this weather. What have you been up to? Any rock shows in town worth seeing?” You grit your teeth, trying to keep calm. You appreciate your parents trying to pull you out of your bad mood, but God damn are they doing a terrible job at it. 

“Um, no. We’ve been busy this week at the bank. I haven’t gotten to go out.” You manage to sound mostly casual, though you’re sure your parents can see through it. They’ve always been good at reading you like an open book. “But I’m sure we’ll get together again soon.” You can feel your parents giving each other a look, communicating about you without speaking as they have since you were young, but you ignore it in favor of focusing on your dinner. 

The rest of the evening goes by without having to talk about Eddie or Y/BFF/N or any other touchy subject at the moment, which you’re grateful for, and you finally drive back home in silence. You can’t even listen to music right now without thinking of Eddie. Not that you weren’t already.  

When you get back home, you park yourself at your spot on the couch once again, staring out the window, thinking of Eddie when the phone starts ringing. You practically sprint over to the phone, picking it up to put the receiver to your face, hopeful that Eddie will be on the other side. 

“Y/N?” Your smile falters. It’s not Eddie... It’s Y/BFF/N.  

“Y/BFF/N? Oh, um, hi.” You don’t know what to say.  

“Hey,” she says. You can hear her smile on the other side, and you give a sad smile of your own. “How are you? I’ve been thinking about you lately.”  

“Oh, I’m- I’m good. I guess you heard from my parents that I moved back to Hawkins,” you muse, chewing the inside of your mouth. You’re going to have to tell her that you know what she did. You didn’t ask if Eddie had already told her, but you guess not if she’s called you again. 

“Yeah! That’s so great. I’ll have to come see you next time I come to see my parents,” Y/BFF/N suggests, making your brow furrow. Would you even want to see her? Would Eddie see it as a betrayal? 

“Yeah, maybe...” You don’t want to give a definite answer, but you also don’t want to come off as cold. “Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t call you back. My answering machine was broken last week and I’ve been waiting on a part to get it fixed.” 

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m just excited you answered this time. I didn’t know if you would. Your parents told me you’ve been, um, hanging out with Eddie. I don’t know what he told you, but I hope you can believe that I did what I did for good reason.” You let out a sigh, eyes floating up to the ceiling as you form your reply. 

“Y/BFF/N, all I will say is that I don’t want to get involved. I don’t want to pick sides. You were my best friend for years. But Eddie is my best friend now.” You try to sound firm, but you can’t help but remember the state Eddie was in when he called you that day after talking to her. His bloodshot eyes as he sank, defeated, into your sofa when he arrived. 

The line is quiet for a moment before you hear her take a breath. “I- I understand. Eddie was... is a good man. He just didn’t understand what I wanted.” She tries to explain. Your face scrunches in confusion, and annoyance laces your voice as you reply. 

“Didn’t he give up the band for you? And quit doing Hellfire? And buy a sensible car? And get a sensible job?” 

“Well, yes, but-” 

“But what? It wasn't enough? But Jason Carver and his rich, stick-up-their-asses parents are? Don’t you remember the hell that Jason put us through in high school?” The anger builds in your voice. Any chance for a cordial conversation is gone now. Screw not picking sides, you’ll pick Eddie’s every time after this sorry excuse of an explanation. 

“Y/N, it’s not like that anymore. Jason is so good to me. I love him more than I ever loved Eddie. I need you to believe me!” She sounds close to tears now, but you simply scoff. 

“Yeah, Y/BFF/N, I do believe you. And I also believe that that’s why you decided it was a good idea to fuck him in the same bed you and Eddie slept in instead of having the decency to break up with him before shacking up with the biggest asshole this town had to offer.” 

“But, Y/N-” 

“I’m not coming to your wedding, Y/BFF/N. Not after you broke my best friend’s heart. And just so you know, Eddie is the kindest, most amazing man I have ever met, and if I ever had the elite privilege of being loved by him, I would hold on to that love until the day I died. So, it’s your loss, really. Good luck with your life. Please, don’t call me again.” With that, you slam the phone back down onto the dock, practically shaking with rage. You let out a groan in frustration, pacing back and forth in your living room as you try to calm down. It’s such bullshit. Eddie deserved so much better. You wish you could show him how much better he deserves. Why does he have to keep avoiding you? If you knew where he lived, you could just show up there and demand to talk to him, but he’s never invited you over. 

You stop pacing as a thought comes to mind. Eddie may not answer his phone, but someone else might. Your eyes dart to the box of mementos in the corner that your mom gave you last weekend at dinner and go over to it, moving things out of the way until you find what you’re looking for. 

Your sophomore yearbook. You flip it over and open the back cover, your eyes scanning over the messages from former classmates until you find the one you’re looking for. “Hey loser, I know I’ll see you later but I wanted to write in here anyway just in case I get abducted by aliens or something. X- Ed.” Beneath the chicken scratch of his handwriting is his phone number. You remember asking for it because you kept losing it when he would write it on sticky notes. You go over to the phone with the yearbook in hand and dial the number, hoping Eddie’s uncle still lives there. After a few rings, a gruff voice sounds through the receiver. 

“Hello?” You let out a sigh of relief. It’s Wayne. 

“Hi, Mr. Munson? I don’t know if you remember me, my name’s Y/N L/N. I’m one of Eddie’s good friends from high school,” You explain. 

“Oh,” Wayne says, sounding much lighter than he did in his greeting. “Yeah, of course I remember you. What can I do for you, young lady?” You flounder, thinking of an excuse to ask what you want to ask. 

“Well, I, uh, I moved back to Hawkins recently and reconnected with Eddie, and he was over at my house last night and forgot his jacket. I was gonna return it today but I can’t find the paper he wrote his address on, and he’s not answering his phone. Can you give it to me?” You squint your eyes, hoping Wayne doesn’t think you’re some creepy stalker or something. 

“Yeah sure, get you a pen and some paper and I’ll let you write it down again,” You breathe a silent sigh of relief and get a pen to write down Eddie’s address.  

“Thank you, Mr. Munson. It’s so good to hear from you again!” You’re beaming at the success of your plan. 

“Any friend of Eddie’s is a friend of mine. You call me any time, sweetheart. You have a good night, now.” 

“Thank you! I will. You too, Mr. Munson.” As the line clicks off, you give yourself a small fist pump as you look at the address now written in your old yearbook. You waste no time gathering your essentials and walk toward the door.  

Time to go see Eddie. 

@corrodedcoffincumslut @haylaansmi @bebe07011

#eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie the freak munson #eddie #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #dustin stranger things #mutual pining #friends to lovers

[masterqwertster]

Any of 12, 18, 19, 28, or 32 of the Guy in a Situation prompts seems like shenanigans Bell's Hells would get into in the Secret Library AU.

Alrighty, let's go 18 Possession/Mind-controlled. After all, Laudna is kind of possessed normally anyways.

"Come on, Laudna! You're stronger than her!" Imogen shouts, back pressed against a bookshelf.

"Oh really? Is that what you think?" a voice that isn't Laudna’s comes purring out of the dark-haired woman's mouth. “Poor dear. She hasn’t even told you that this isn’t the first time I’ve taken control. It’s not even the second.”

Fear and fury shiver down Imogen’s spine as she hears those words among the slow tap-tapping of Laudna’s possessed footsteps. A bitter and hysterical part of her mind says the bitch is probably miffed that Laudna wears flats, denying her the crisp click of heels for her little predatory stroll.

For the thousandth time, Imogen curses the artifact that came in earlier today. It’s what Delilah is after, what she saw fit to take over Laudna for, so why shouldn’t it bear the blame? There’s hope that if they can get the stupid thing to the forge it’ll be possible to melt down the little verdigris stained statue of a left hand with an eye in the palm, rendering it inert, which will then, hopefully, get Delilah to fuck right off.

Problem is, Delilah cottoned on to the plan pretty fast. Worse, she’s somehow gotten control of Ashton. You would think it would be real easy to keep track of 500-plus pounds of living stone, especially with how Ashton stomps around most of the time. But no, the damn bastard has a near-silent tread when they’re sneaking around. It’s fucking terrifying the way they ghost out of the stacks as they hunt down the rest of the team at Delilah’s command. And certainly not helped by the fact that Ashton knows the library best, seeing as it’s been their home far longer than any of the rest of the team has been here.

Though by now, FCG has, hopefully, tangled Ashton up somewhere else. Even mind-controlled, the punk rock has a soft spot a mile wide for the cute little robot. And FCG isn’t exactly defenseless either.

Imogen looks across the aisle to Chetney, receiving a nod. A steadying breath in, then she darts up the aisle, finding a new hiding place. He shadows her advance a few seconds later, ducking under a blast of magic spun between no longer friendly fingers.

The telepath and the werewolf have been playing leapfrog to distract Delilah while Orym and Fearne try the ventilation ducts to get to the forge. And they’re so lucky that Delilah can’t sense the damn artifact, otherwise the bait-and-switch before they all split wouldn’t have worked out like this.

A tsk echoes amongst the shelves. 

“Try all you like, but you’re not going to beat me,” Delilah calls out, taunting. “Not without killing your precious little Laudna.”

“That’s what she said,” Chetney taunts back. Then yelps when another blast comes his way.

They’re playing a dangerous, dangerous game. Orym and Fearne need time to sneak by and do the deed. But more time means dodging more shots from Delilah, that Ashton has more chances to break free of whatever entrapment FCG has used against him. It’s a race against the clock with no way to know who’s won until the cards are all down.

How’s it going, Orym? Imogen calls down the psychic tether she’d established as the group split.

We’re there. Just trying to get the forge hot enough to melt this thing down. Orym reports, mind distracted with his current activities.

Well please hurry. I’m not sure how long we can keep this game up before someone gets real hurt.

I know. We’re trying.

“Then again, maybe you are willing to kill her. I haven’t seen that poor statue of a boy in a while. What you’ll do to him, you’ll surely be willing to do to her. Or is he just worth less to you? A Nobody that no one wants around,” Delilah continues.

Imogen’s fists clench. Sure, her and Ashton don’t always get along, but that doesn’t mean she’d kill them for what Delilah is making them do. Yet she knows just how deeply such words would cut Ashton, and it scares her that Delilah probably also knows that just from watching from behind Laudna’s eyes. It’s something only friends, like Laudna and Ashton are, should know. Delilah shouldn’t be able to tread on that bond, the fucking bitch. She shouldn’t be able to touch any of Laudna’s friendships.

And that sparks a damn foolhardy and risky plan in Imogen’s mind.

Delilah says she’s possessed Laudna before? Fine. Imogen bets that Laudna’s never had so many reasons to fight the bitch off before. Her friend just needs a reminder.

“Imogen!” Chetney hisses when she boldly steps into the middle of the aisle.

“I care about all of my friends. And that includes you, Laudna. So you better kick this bitch out, or I’m spendin’ the rest of my days lookin’ for a way to bring you back. Even if the rest of my days is just today,” Imogen declares, standing boldly in the open space.

Delilah twists Laudna’s face into a teeth-baring snarl, hands twisting into arcane motions. 

Imogen doesn’t break eye contact with her best friend(‘s body).

The blast misses her by three feet.

Imogen wants to whoop in victory as frustrated confusion spreads across Delilah’s expression. She knew Laudna was in there, knew she was strong enough to throw off that damn ghost.

“Like I said, Laudna’s stronger than you,” Imogen says with a vicious, victorious grin.

“You think that’s enough to stop me!?” Delilah snarls, hands clawing for more arcane might.

“Maybe not, but I don’t think you have a reason to keep fighting anymore.”

Delilah whirls, and Imogen can see Orym and Fearne stepping up behind her. The small man tips his hands, letting a misshapen lump of metal fall to the floor.

“NO! What have you done?!” Delilah shrieks, gathering even more magic to her.

Imogen fears that this blast isn’t going to be one Laudna can redirect away from them all. Even Fearne and Chetney reflect her fear. But strangely not Orym.

The reason becomes apparent when FCG comes wheeling out of the stacks next to Laudna-Delilah, an artifact in hand and arcane words tumbling out of their mouth, Ashton standing protectively at their back.

FCG finishes before Delilah can release her blast, sending the malevolent spirit screeching back to whatever damned hole she’d crawled out of. 

Imogen rushes forward to catch Laudna before Delilah is even fully banished.

“...Hello, darling,” Laudna rasps out as her eyes flutter open to Imogen cradling her.

“Hey yourself. I’m glad you're back with us,” Imogen replies, tears gathering in her eyes.

“Me too, darling. Me too.”

#MQ&A #MQfic #MQ AU machine #bells hells secret library au #imogen temult #laudna #delilah briarwood #guy in a situation prompt

[davnittbraes]

The First Step - Chapter Five

Part of The World Is Light, Embodied.

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader (eventually)

Rating: Explicit (not in this chapter but the series is so 

Word Count: 4400

Warnings etc: Reader insert, female reader, anxiety, alcohol consumption, angsty yearning and tension, I hate slow burns why am I doing this to myself

Notes: I have no idea if alcohol is illegal on Kinyen, but the Gran don’t tolerate it well and the only mention of any kind of cantina on their home planet is a “speakeasy” in Capra so I figured it’s probably outlawed? Idk. Am I overthinking this? Definitely. Moving on. I’m making stuff up about houjix here, though now I really want one.

Please check out the Series Masterlist page for more info.

Hyperspace lines blur past the transparisteel, painting the cockpit in a faint white glow, the hum of the engines a hypnotic counterpart. Takodana is only moments behind you, but far enough away that the sting of the bruises on your arm aren’t so distracting anymore.

A heavy silence lies over the small space. And not the kind of silence you like.

This silence is buzzing with tension and anticipation. It crawls along your skin, quickening your pulse, trying to twitch your fingers and shift your hips in your seat.

There are questions coming. Questions about what had just happened, about your past. You have to find some way to answer without lying - the bounty hunter will be able to tell if you lie, you have no doubt about that.

Mando sits back in his chair, visor on the transparisteel, but you can feel his gaze, like he’s looking at you out of the corner of his eye. Training your expression into a mask of innocent politeness, you silently wait for him to do or say something.

Time passes, minutes ticking by along with the lines of hyperspace.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.

He’s waiting you out, waiting for you to break, and even though you know that, it’s not helping the anxiety bubbling up hot in the pit of your stomach.

Ok, you can’t take it anymore. “So where are we headed?”

The helmet turns ever-so-slightly toward you, his voice low and calm. “That depends. Is ‘Katye’ your real name?”

Kriff. Right to the point, no surprise there.

You need to be careful, figure out how to respond without giving too much -

Stop.

I can’t keep doing this.

You chose to follow him - twice, now - knowing how dangerous he is for you.

This is a consequence of your decision. A consequence you accepted in exchange for following whatever it is that keeps pulling you together.

And he’s been… good to you. Kind, polite - well, maybe not by some social standards but the effort was there, at least. He’s helped you get out of trouble despite having no real obligation to you.

Maybe you… maybe you can trust him. A little.

And he’s got the kid to think of. You can’t blame him for wanting to know who you are, with the little guy to protect.

He needs honesty, now.

As much as you can give him.

Turning slightly in your chair, you face him, and the helmet swivels to look at you. “I’ll answer your question as best I can. But there are some things… I can’t talk about parts of my life. I understand your reasons for being suspicious - pfassk, I’m practically a blaring signal horn to a bounty hunter, I get that. So if my answer isn’t enough, I’ll stay where you can keep an eye on me until we hit dirt again, then I’ll leave and we can forget we ever met.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then shifts to face you fully, resting his hands on his thighs. “Tell me what you can.”

The soft tone of his words throws you off for a moment. The fact that he wants to respect your boundaries - and give you a chance to set them - is not what you were expecting from a man who commands the space around him, silently daring anyone and anything to contradict him.

Your throat is dry, you swallow hard and take a deep breath. “‘Katye’ was the name I went by when I was working with Bril’s crew. He found me living on the streets, and I didn’t have anyone, family or friends. I needed money, a place to stay. So I joined him.”

Memories threaten to pull you into the past and you move your gaze to the control console, not really seeing the mysterious switches and knobs, just needing a neutral space to look at. “They treated me like one of their own at first, and I thought I was safe with them. We did jobs, mostly small-time smuggling and robberies. Eventually though, we started to get attention, and Bril wanted us to go after a risky target with a bigger take so we could go underground for a while, wait for the heat to die off.”

A sharp smile curves your lips. “Of course, what I didn’t know was that they had figured out a more efficient way to get a bigger payday and deflect attention - by setting me up to take the fall. But the job went bad, I realized what their real plan was and I escaped. Took what credits I had been promised and left, started over.”

He’s still for a moment, a silent statue of silver, black and brown. When he speaks, his tone is oddly amused. “That’s where you learned to fight like you do.”

“What do you mean, ‘like I do?’” Frowning at him, you shift in your seat. “I’m no Mandalorian, I’m not professionally trained or whatever, but I can defend myself.”

He lifts a hand slightly, a flicker of orange-fingered leather in a subtle placating gesture. “You fight like someone who has done it to survive. You don’t hold back, you fight with everything you’ve got.”

“Because I am everything I’ve got.” Emotion pulls at your chest, and you shove it away forcefully.

That’s an old wound, should be healed by now, for crikk’s sake.

“I… can understand that.”

That same emotion is in his modulated voice.

Right. Mandalorian.

Silence ticks by, and you try to find some way to stop it, something to say to divert from the last words exchanged. But your chest is too tight, and your eyes are stinging, and you know if you try to speak right now you’re just going to humiliate yourself.

He moves, leaning forward so his elbows rest on his knees. It’s a strangely defenseless position for him, as if he’s trying to make himself seem smaller. “The kid and I are… laying low. There are people who want to take him, dangerous people. I’m charged with keeping him safe.”

A pang of concern flashes through your chest. “Who?”

The helmet tilts, black visor considering. “I can’t tell you.”

You fall into silence again, meeting his unseen gaze, chewing on your bottom lip. There’s a tentative trust building in the space between you, one that you don’t want to break. “Ok. We both have secrets. I’ll respect yours, as you respect mine.”

He nods once, sitting back in his chair. “Is there anyone else you’re avoiding?”

“I… yes. But I will tell you if I think we’re going to cross paths with them.” You meet that black visor’s gaze steadily, pushing as much sincerity and honesty into your words as you can. “And I won’t let my past endanger the kid. I promise you that.”

You let your words fall and land as they will. That’s all you can say. If that’s not enough… well, whatever is drawing you to him, that intense attraction that pervades even your dreams, it’s not worth giving up your truth.

For a moment he doesn’t move or speak, just looks at you, weight of his gaze pressing you into the seat.

Then he stands abruptly. “You can stay with us until you find a suitable place to start over.” The atmosphere in the cockpit shifts, tension dissipating. “We’ll reach Kinyen in about sixteen hours. I don’t have a bunk, but you can find a space in the hold for yourself. There’s extra blankets in storage.”

He turns before you can say anything, two strides and he’s dropping down into the hold in a flurry of silver and black, leaving you staring at the empty place where he had stood.

Wait -

Springing out of your seat, you follow him, skimming down the ladder and landing lightly on your feet. He pauses, turning to look back at you, an obvious question in the tilt of his helmet.

You freeze.

Pfassk, he’s right there, barely made it a step from the ladder, his tall frame and broad shoulders block out the lights above him, cast him in shadow, pull you into the darkness. He’s so close, you could touch him if you wanted, just reach out and feel -

The thick fabric of duraweave over solid muscle scratches faintly under your fingertips, warmth of the skin beneath quickly bleeding through. Blinking rapidly, you look down and realize your hand is curled around his bicep, right below his pauldron, gripping lightly but firmly as if afraid he’ll slip out of reach.

Oh.

You hadn’t meant to -

It was almost involuntary, like you couldn’t help yourself -

Pfassk.

That’s a terrifying concept.

“Thank you.” The words burst from your lips, a little too loud, edged with the bewildered anxiety boiling in your thoughts. Taking a breath, you try again. “Thank you for stepping in back there, with-with Bril. And for… for letting me stay, even though I can’t tell you everything you want to know.”

The helmet tips in a silent nod. Then he looks down at your hand, still wrapped around his arm.

Dank farrik. You’re still touching him and now it’s weird and awkward and you pull your hand away -

Smooth leather grasps your fingers.

You stop breathing.

His gloved hand curves around yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles, words falling softly into the space between you. “Everyone’s got their own armour of sorts.”

Then he’s gone, turning and striding away out of sight, leaving you standing there, hand hovering in the air as his last words repeat in your mind.

Everyone’s got their own armour of sorts.

The words are your own, said to him after thinking you’d pushed too hard, making him uncomfortable about never taking off his helmet. Not an apology but something more meaningful.

A statement of acceptance.

Realization runs through your body in a tremor.

Your secrets are your armour, carefully placed over the delicate parts of you, keeping you safe from harm.

But you’d never told anyone about your time with Bril and his crew. Not even the few people in your life who had managed to slide into something like a friendship with you. No, you had kept that secret close, just like all the others.

Until today.

Yes, your secrets are your armour. And somehow, the Mandalorian had slipped underneath it.

*****

Capra was one of the only places on Kinyen to get a decent drink, so even if the city wasn’t nestled along the Saeduree River, a bright blue tract of freshwater that shimmered beautifully in the sunlight, you would have loved it anyway.

There was a little speakeasy on a side street in the northwest quarter, shoved in-between an electronics repair shop and a fabric store. Since the native Kinyen species, the Gran, couldn’t biologically tolerate alcohol, it was legally prohibited planet-wide, though you were pretty sure the local authorities were well aware of the speakeasy and chose to look the other way.

The Gran might be generally sober, but the non-Gran who came to Capra were usually not, and the locals understood the importance of making sure their business partners and tourists were comfortable and relaxed, ideally with a bit of an alcoholic buzz in their system to ease negotiations and help lighten wallets.

You were settled into a cozy corner of the speakeasy with the kid floating in his pod beside you, on the opposite side of the room from the Mandalorian and the Ithorian he was speaking with. They were talking in hushed tones too soft for you to make out what they were saying.

Which was fine, you hadn’t come along to pry into Mando’s business - you figure the only reason he’d agreed to let you come with him was because he was more reluctant to leave you alone on the ship than he was to reveal who he was meeting with. He hadn’t said so, but you had sensed his internal struggle, and suggested your current situation, with you keeping the kid out of trouble while staying far enough away not to accidentally overhear whatever it was Mando was discussing with the Ithorian.

“Kriff, kid, chew before you swallow or you’ll end up ruining another robe.” You reach over and take the sweetcake out of his tiny hands, breaking it up into smaller chunks for him to eat.

He burbles at you cheekily, but he does slow down at least.

Sitting back in your chair, you take a sip from the glass of whisky you’d bought - a couple fingers of Corellian. Not enough to affect you, obviously, since you were babysitting. But enough to settle in your stomach, warm and heavy. And encourage your thoughts to drift as you watch the kid snack away.

What was the little guy to the Mandalorian, anyway? You’re pretty sure the kid isn’t biologically Mando’s - ears like that couldn’t fit under a helmet - unless Mom’s genes were extra strong. Besides, Mando had said he was “charged with protecting” the child, which didn’t sound like a typical father-child relationship. But who would give the kid to someone who couldn’t speak his language? And why to a lone, Mandalorian bounty hunter?

Your thoughts come up blank. It’s no use, you don’t have enough information to come to any kind of conclusion about Mando and the kid.

Movement draws your attention. A blue and yellow striped creature shuffles out from around the corner of the bar, beady black eyes peering at you warily from above a wide mouth.

A houjix!

The four-legged cephalopods prefer freshwater habitats but enjoy scrambling about on land for short periods of time, especially if their owners are around. Known for their friendly dispositions, only acting aggressively when seriously threatened, they’re popular pets among the Gran, but not so much elsewhere - being not exactly pleasant to look at by popular standards, most people pass them over for more attractive animal companions.

Which, of course, means you have a soft spot for them.

You lean down, twitching your fingers just above the floor. The houjix’s gaze immediately locks onto the motion, spiky clubbed tail flicking in interest. Tentatively, it crawls across the floor, pausing every few steps to peer around as if anxiously assessing potential risks.

The bartender stops his tidying to watch the interaction, calling out to the houjix, something in Gran that you don’t understand but that sounds encouraging.

The houjix glances back at the bartender, then turns to you, moving forward with a bit more enthusiasm. You can’t help but smile as the creature sniffs at your fingers, nudges its scaly nose into the palm of your hand.

The kid coos, ears perked with curiosity, watching the houjix as you scratch the space between its eyes, and you smile. “They’re very friendly, see? But they spook easily so you have to move slowly and be quiet around them.”

Leaning forward to see better, the kid giggles when you tickle under the houjix chin and it pants happily, big tongue lolling out from the wide mouth. The whole scene is so endearing - the kid’s delighted curiosity, the houjix’s goofy grin - a warmth that’s not from the whiskey blooms in your stomach.

Then there’s a movement from the far side of the room and the houjix startles, scrambling back to hide behind the bar. You look up to see Mando striding toward your table.

“Making friends?” He sounds amused as the helmet turns to look from you to where the houjix disappeared.

You shrug, swallowing the last mouthful of whisky and reaching over to brush crumbs from the front of the kid’s robe. “Recruiting. Thought you might want to add to your adorable creatures collection.”

“Not sure I’d call that thing ‘adorable.’” He keys in a command on his vambrace and the kid’s pod floats toward him.

“Aw come on, every creature has its charms. Even scaly, snaggle-toothed squid. And big, scary Mandalorians.”

Dank farrik. Didn’t mean to say that.

You push back the flood of embarrassment and change the subject quickly. “Are we leaving?”

The black visor just looks at you for a moment, then turns away as he moves toward the door. “Yes. We’re heading back to the Crest.”

“‘The Crest?’ You stand to follow him. “Is that the name of the ship?”

He pauses, helmet tilting in what you think is surprise. “Yes. The Razor Crest. The name is written on the side, can… can you read Basic?”

A barrage of memories explodes across your thoughts, pulling a wave of hot anger to the surface. You quickly shove it back down - another old wound that should have healed by now. “Oh, I can read well enough. But I try not to look too hard at anything mechanical. It can sense my attention and tends to break instantly just to spite me.”

“Your blaster is mechanical.” He gestures to your thigh holster, his tone lightly teasing.

You pat the blaster strapped to your thigh gently. “I’ve had this one for years, only blaster that has never jammed on me. I’ve deduced that it must be immune to my curse.”

He huffs his laugh but doesn’t respond to that, turning to stride toward the exit door. Following him and the kid out of the speakeasy, you throw the bartender a friendly wave over your shoulder as you step out into the sunny street.

It’s a beautiful day, warm, with a light breeze coming off the river that carries the fresh scent of the grain fields beyond the city. Even though Capra has a population of millions and hosts the main spaceport for the planet, the city itself is clean and almost quaint, architecture inspired by the Gran’s agricultural history, with smaller buildings than what you’d usually see in a big city and narrow streets obviously designed for carts with wheels and other ancient methods of transporting goods.

The Gran you pass by are friendly enough, offering polite greetings though you’re a complete stranger. One even waves to you as you move through the streets back to the ship.

You wave back, smiling pleasantly. “This isn’t a bad little place.”

The helmet turns to look at you. “Are you planning on staying here, then?”

“Oh. Uh…” You hesitate, uncertainty suddenly churning in your stomach. “I guess I could. I’ve worked on farms before, could probably scrape out a living as a hired hand for a bit.”

It’s the right thing to do. Kinyen is quiet and peaceful with plenty of opportunities for you to take the next step.

But that black visor is pinned on you, the mysterious gaze behind it a question that’s impossible to ignore.

Forcing a light chuckle from your oddly tight chest, you smile crookedly. “Who am I kidding, me, on a planet with only one bar? Doesn’t seem like a long-term option, to be honest.”

Mando looks away again - was that a little shift of relief in his shoulders? - as he leads you and the kid around a corner, heading down the street that ends at the spaceport, where the ship is docked. “I wouldn’t have picked you for a heavy drinker.”

Shrugging one shoulder, you scoff. “I did have my days, when I was younger. Now, I enjoy a good drink once in a while.”

“Just whisky?”

He noticed what you were drinking.

Of course he did, the man notices everything.

You throw him a glare of mock offence. “Oh, I dabble in other areas. When it comes to whisky, though, I’ll try it but nothing beats Corellian. Every other whisky is subpar.”

“Is that where you’re from? Corellia?”

The question throws you off, teasing attitude fading slightly. Most people would expect you to either confirm it or clarify where you were actually from. But that’s too close to those secrets you’re trying to keep. “No, I���m just a fan of their main alcoholic export.”

He falls silent. Kriff, there you go again, derailing the slowly growing… whatever it is between the two of you. He’s going to get sick of your avoidance, kick you off on the next planet, maybe even make you stay here -

“I’ve never had it.”

You’re unable to stop from staring at him, struggling to pull your focus out of your spiraling anxiety. “You’ve never had Corellian whisky?”

The helmet tilts just slightly toward you in a way you’re starting to recognize means he’s amused. “No.”

You click your tongue. “That’s a tragedy, right there. Never had Corellian… next time I get my hands on some, you have to try it.”

“Fine. But it better live up to the hype you’re giving it.”

“Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.”

He falls into silence again, but it doesn’t feel strained this time, just a natural quiet that you’re starting to realize is a frequent occurrence with him.

The spaceport pops into sight as you pass some buildings, the ship - the Razor Crest - looming over the speeders waiting for the next transport to come in, and your curiosity sparks. “Where are we headed next? Are you tracking a bounty?”

“I haven’t taken bounties since I found the kid.”

Huh. That’s surprising. Wait - “‘Found’ the kid? Like just stumbled across him on the street one day?”

He’s quiet for a moment again. “Not exactly.”

You can sense the edge of that wall he keeps around his secrets, and you instinctively back off, thoughts picking through what he had said. “So how do you pay for everything?” You immediately clap a hand over your mouth. “Wow, that was wildly inappropriate. Please ignore me, it’s not my business.”

The black visor stays looking straight ahead, but you catch that tilt of amusement again. “I take jobs when I need money. Whatever work I can find that doesn’t put the kid in danger.”

“How long have you had him?”

“A while.”

You raise your eyebrows. “And it’s just been you and him?”

“For the most part, yes.”

“So you’ve been caring for him, by yourself, while taking work for money so you don’t starve or get stranded somewhere with no fuel?” Something like sympathy twists in your chest. “That’s a lot for one person to take on.”

The black visor does look at you then, a quick glance that is completely unreadable to you. “This is The Way.”

He said those words with a rhythmic intonation, as if they were a… prayer? Chant? He had mentioned a creed, of some kind, when you had asked him about why he never removes his helmet. Maybe those words have to do with his creed.

Regardless, the life he’s describing sounds tough, full of struggle and worry.

You look down at the kid floating beside you, reaching out to gently stroke the edge of one floppy ear. He stares up at you, big eyes wide and solemn, and the twinge in your chest grows. “The “way” seems… harsh.”

“The Way is The Way of The Mandalore. To follow The Way, one must protect one’s clan.”

Now that definitely sounds like something ceremonial. Mandalorians are fighters, you know that much. No surprise their culture is focused on protecting their clans - protecting the future of their people in a galaxy that seems to be constantly at war.

You tweak the end of the kid’s ear. “And he’s part of your clan?”

“Yes.”

There’s a note of something in his voice that’s dimmed by the modulator, and you can’t quiet tell what it is, but you don’t want to pry. “Well, that answers that question. I was wondering what your relationship to the kid was, but if he’s part of your clan, I get it now.”

“You do?” His surprise is obvious even through the modulator.

“Yeah. Your clan is your family, right? So even if you’re not biologically related, he’s still your… well, seems like he sees you as his father, so. He’s your son.”

The helmet turns away again, his body language stiff.

Crikking hells, messed up again.

Honesty. It worked last time.

You stop abruptly, and after a step he pauses, turning slightly to look back at you. “Ok, I need to explain something. I’m not used to… uh, this kind of conversation.”

Great job, very concise, now he’s probably more confused than before.

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you try again. “I mean the kind of conversation where I’m not analyzing everything the other person is saying, trying to figure out what they want from me, second-guessing each word. I… I don’t usually let people this close.”

And stop right there, that’s getting a little too personal.

But he’s still staring at you, silent, and the words keep flowing.

“I’m just not used to feeling… free to talk, I guess. But I don’t want to upset you or make you uncomfortable - you’ve been respectful of my boundaries, I want to do the same for yours.” Chewing your bottom lip, you search for the right words to get across what you’re trying to say. “So if I say something you don’t like, please tell me to kindly kriff off and I’ll shut my mouth.”

A strange sound comes through the modulator - was that a laugh?

Those ridiculously broad shoulders quiver.

The Mandalorian is laughing at you. Not just his little huff, an actual, legitimate laugh.

A confusing mix of mild offence and amused delight make you smile in bewilderment.

The helmet moves once from side to side. “I wouldn’t dare. That mouth of yours is one of your best features.”

Then he’s turning away and starting off down the street again, the kid gliding along behind him in his little pod. You stare after them, a foreign warmth blooming beneath your ribs that leaves you breathless.

That mouth of yours is one of your best features.

Dank farrik.

The potential double-meaning behind his words…

Yeah, no. Not gonna go there.

You don’t need any more fuel added to that attraction simmering under your skin. That seems to be getting worse on all its own.

Maybe you should stay on Kinyen. If you keep following the Mandalorian, it’s going to be more and more difficult to ignore whatever that warmth is under your ribs, fluttering within your heartbeat.

Then the helmet turns, flashing in the sunlight, and that unseen gaze falls on you again.

Your feet move toward him without any further hesitation.

*****

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#the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the world is light embodied

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

hypotheticals for a continuation to gligar emmet/silent loyalty

so obviously the first thing that happens is emmet goes and Gets Help. probably in the form of lady sneasler, who is confused and delayed a bit because her Noble Senses say something weird. about emmet. namely he looks like a regular gligar but for some reason his soul is human??

so yeah. What Happened, anyway, is that in this universe, things that are entirely of the distortion world can’t naturally exist in our world, because they lack two vital things: a physical body and a soul. giratina’s solution was to borrow some from elsewhere. a single person would just be dead, or regular possessed, but giratina accidentally grabbed two humans, decided to take one part from each of them, and tossed the scrap bits out of the distortion world, where emmet’s stray soul landed in an unfortunate gligar that was flying too close to the rift

(yes this means emmet’s real body, and all of ingo’s memories, are somewhere in the distortion world being test-driven by giratina. don’t worry about it)

one side effect of the soullessness is that ingo still remembers Nothing, which emmet doesn’t get to find out until he wakes up and explains his situation to the pearl clan

...yeah, after that he sorta gives up on trying to communicate anything, because even if he could figure out a way to write or otherwise explain "i am emmet” “i am human”, it wouldn’t even mean anything to ingo

meanwhile ingo has No idea why this weirdly clever gligar is determined to hover around him, but having a pokemon partner is far preferable to being alone in hisui, so he’s not exactly complaining 

(even if he feels a little guilty about having basically nothing to give in return)

emmet, having all his memories but no way to communicate, is aware of just how much is Very Wrong here, and really wants to fix it and go home but. has no idea how to achieve that. so mostly he’s just super keyed up with nervous energy that has nowhere to go

he’s also got this sort of thing over time of, like, he’s a pokemon now, he’s capable of taking and dishing out attacks, he has to get stronger so that both of them can survive. and his “training” is occasionally detrimental to his health

(i’m leaning towards him being a HA gligar/gliscor? bc that then puts added incentive on him to jump into any poison attacks, and also if he evolves and depending on how you hc the mechanics of poison heal to work, you could get all the nasty side effects of poison but also have him be seeking it out in battle despite that because it keeps him up longer)

and then, yknow, there’s the whole thing he’s trying not to think about which is the feeling of suddenly being trapped in a pokemon body and also being completely cut off from human contact. he talks to lady sneasler a lot, and the rest of ingo’s team once they get added, which helps with the loneliness-in-a-crowd feeling, but still having to be a spectator in every other conversation and not really getting treated like a person is not fun

meanwhile ingo is. well, yknow, canon. he’s lost, confused, something is Wrong and the constant looming knowledge of that kind of distracts him from being like, functional. his brain is static. he’s doing surprisingly well for having No Soul, after the initial disorientation in the temple, but he does seem less. emotive, present, than he should.

which is why it’s a good thing he has this gligar which is, again, weirdly determined to help him and also extremely perceptive to what he’s feeling, sometimes even before he himself notices. if only he had literally any way to pay it back for being so kind

especially because it seems near-constantly distressed and/or frustrated by this unknown thing it still hasn’t figured out a good way to communicate

a lot of it goes, plotwise, the same way as canon—ingo becoming sneasler’s warden, picking up the rest of his team, etc. they settle into sort of a routine, even if it’s sort of perpetually unsatisfying. i’mmm putting some of the random concepts under a readmore so this doesn’t get any more stupid long

noble debate about what to do with the Gligar-That’s-A-Person and the Person-That-Isn’t-A-Person. also trying to determine if either of them are threats, since they also seem to have been heavily influenced by the rift. is it safer to just take them out now?

the clans Also don’t trust this gligar that doesn’t act like one

i think zoroark rely on memories/souls to hunt people so they don’t know what the fuck to do with either of them. do they attack? which one??

the aforementioned “emmet goes a little too far with training” and ingo has to beg him to stop

also, him trying to decide whether to evolve (even stronger, but also bigger/scarier?)

conversely, emmet has to be the one to remind/pester ingo to do normal things like eat and sleep consistently

4x ice weakness that’s gonna hurt

also as mentioned above- what if poison heal doesn’t necessarily negate the effects of a poison, it just also turns it into energy at the same time, you’re still very poisoned. but hey now in battle it’s useful to be poisoned

i don’t remember if it’s canon or conjecture but i still like the idea that alphas with their glowing red eyes have been strengthened-and-frenzied by giratina/the distortions. so like, that happening to emmet. possibly while he’s investigating the rift/distortions to see if they hold the key to fixing things

also, lady sneasler gets frenzied and attacks them both

#the nemesis speaks #swift writes #submas #yeahalright here take the bullet points #gligar emmet

[strangerthings-fan-fiction]

Why Him?

Steve x Reader

Billy x Reader

Description: Angst. Steve has a crush on you, and he can't understand why you are with Billy of all people. Once the three of you are at a party, he finds himself telling you exactly what he thinks.



Steve couldn’t believe it when people informed him that one of his best friends was in a relationship with Billy. He never pictured someone as sweet as you going out the absolute bane of his existence. The fact that he had a massive crush on you didn’t help him come to terms with your relationship either.

Steve found himself glaring at Billy as he approached the counter at the video store.

“Uh, do you guys have that sixteen candles movie?” Billy asked.

“Ooh, sorry that was just rented out,” Steve said. If he had just glanced around he would’ve realized he actually had a copy under the very counter he was currently leaning over, but good customer service wasn’t exactly a top priority for him at the moment.

“Do you have any movies that are sort of like that?” Billy asked, looking for a replacement.

“We have Nightmare On Elm Street,” Steve said, once again being no real help to the customer in front of him.

“Wait, I thought that was a horror movie,” Billy said. 

Before Steve could answer both boys were distracted by the chime of the entrance door. As you walked in Steve straightened up, suddenly feeling a bundle of nerves in his stomach as you approached. 

Billy slung his arm around your shoulders and said, “So, they didn’t have the movie.”

“Oh no,” you complained, “What are we going to watch now?”

“Hey, look at that! Turns out we do have a copy,” Steve said, producing the vhs from under the counter.

Of course once Steve found out the movie was for you he was more than willing to hand it over. Unfortunately, Billy noticed the unfair treatment between him and you. He gave Steve an intimidating once over which you missed as you handed over the money. Ironically, Steve also didn’t notice Billy’s glare since he was too busy giving you a charming smile.

“Great choice of movie, by the way,” Steve said as he scanned it.

“Come on, guys never like these movies,” you said.

“Wait, what?” Billy asked.

“But I’m sure you’ll like it,” you said, quickly editing your previous statement before giving Billy your most innocent smile. 

He scoffed as he said, “Come on, y/n. I know enough about you to know I can’t trust those doe eyes of yours.”

Steve internally grimaced as he watched the two of you flirt. Usually he would be finding any reason to get you to stay and talk with him, but whenever you were with Billy he found himself wanting to get as much distance between the two of you as possible. He found himself breathing a sigh of relief once you and Billy left the video store, not wanting to have to be a third wheel any longer than he had to be.

After work he went home to get ready for a party happening later that night. He was looking forward to it, planning on getting plastered and forgetting about you and Billy for a few hours. However, when he pulled up he recognized Billy’s car among the many parked on the curb.

“Did I do something to piss off the universe?” he mumbled to himself as he walked towards the house.

Your head was leaning on Billy’s shoulder and sipping on a drink when Steve joined the group hanging out in the kitchen.

“Hey Steve,” you said. Billy wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer, as he watched Steve grab a drink.

Steve simply gave you a wave before heading back out of the room to presumably hang out with some other people. You were a little surprised he didn’t stop and chat with you for a little, but you shrugged it off, reasoning the two of you would catch up later anyways.

Steve was slumped on a couch, downing as many drinks as quickly as possible. Seeing you and Billy was torture for him. He knew that if you were with anyone else it would still be a difficult pill to swallow, but at least it would make sense. But you being seemingly charmed by Billy was completely unreal to him.

“How’re you liking the party?” asked a girl who took a seat next to him.

“It’s great,” he deadpanned, not really in a socializing mood.

“Uh, right,” she said, put off by his tone.

“I mean, how could you not enjoy it? Everyone seems to be having a great time,” Steve said, before gesturing to a couple in the corner, “Look, they’ve got their tongues down each other's throats, and that’s great isn’t it? People love rubbing their relationships in everyone’s faces! So cool! So great!”

The girl scooted a little bit away from Steve as he unloaded a mess of bitter incoherent thoughts. She simply turned and started talking to the person on the other end of the couch, not really interested in saying another word to Steve. He was fine with it though, slumping back into the couch cushions once again.

Steve perked up when he saw you pass from the kitchen and towards the hall. He quickly stood up (stumbling a bit) and hurried to catch up with you.

“Hey,” he called out over the din of the party. You smiled when you saw who was calling after you.

“I was wondering when I was going to get to talk to you,” you said.

“Really?” he said, his stomach doing flips as he ran a nervous hand through his hair.

“Yeah, of course,” you said, “So what’s up?”

“I guess I just wanted to say hi and-”

Your conversation was interrupted by an eruption of noise from across the room. Billy had gotten into a fight with someone else at the party, and their shouting was louder than everyone else and somehow even louder than the music being blared through the stereo speakers.

You cringed before turning on your heel and heading down the hall and through the front door. You hated the hotheaded part of Billy and didn’t really feel like standing around and watching him pick a fight. Steve noticed you slip outside and followed suit.

“Are you okay?” he asked as he sat down next to you on the porch steps.

“Yeah, I just needed a breather,” you said, deciding against going into the details of how frustrating your boyfriend could be sometimes.

Steve felt his heart wrench as he looked at your frown and noticed the disheartened tears pooling at the edges of your eyes. He hated Billy for making you cry, and that feeling mixed with all the alcohol he had been drinking that night gave him the courage to tell you how he’d been feeling.

“I really don’t get why you're with him,” Steve said, and his admission took you by surprise.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“I mean you two aren’t really a match I would’ve predicted in a million years,” he said, an exasperated laugh leaving his chest as he voiced what had been on his mind for a while.

“It’s not that crazy,” you insisted.

“Well, then you’re going to have to explain to me what it is about you and him, because it doesn’t make sense to me. Seriously, I have been wracking my brain for what it could possibly be, and I’m coming up blank. You’re genuinely kind and don’t need to put someone else down just to feel better about yourself. You don’t constantly worry about being cool. Instead, you just want to have fun with whoever you happen to be hanging out with. You would never come to someone else’s party and ruin it by picking a fight with someone right in the middle of it. Meanwhile, he’s… Billy.”

You looked wide eyed at Steve, never even realizing once he noticed any of that stuff about you. Normally everything he said about you would seem really sweet, but it was tainted by the fact that it seemed to oppose who Billy was.

“I had no idea you felt that way,” you said.

“Sorry that I put all that on you. I just had to say something,” Steve said.

“No, I’m glad you did,” you said, “You’re my friend Steve. I want to know what you’re thinking, you know?”

He nodded, concealing the pain he felt when you referred to him as a friend. He had decided against revealing his feelings for you, thinking that confessing his crush was the last thing you needed on your plate at the moment.

The two of you seemed to be at a loss for words after that, and you were simply looking at the other while thinking your own private thoughts. The silent moment was interrupted by Billy who came stomping out onto the porch. You looked up at him, taking the hand he offered you.

As he helped you up he said, “Are you ready to go?”

“Is everything okay?” you asked.

“Yeah, this party fucking sucks though,” he said, and knew he wanted to leave because of the fight he just had. You waved goodbye to Steve as you followed your boyfriend to his car. As Steve waved back, you found your thoughts consumed by what he had told you moments ago. 

Steve sat there for a while after Billy's car had disappeared from sight, not quite ready to go back to the party. He tried to keep himself from wondering how differently this night would’ve gone if you had come with him instead of Billy, knowing that type of thinking only ever ended up making him feel even worse. He gave up trying to get back into a partying mood (although he had never really been in one in the first place), and ended up driving home by himself instead. That night you both laid in bed wide awake and thinking about the other.

#steve harrington x reader oneshot #steve harrington x reader angst #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington x you

[infuriatedleprechaun]

Call Sign

Bay turtle one shot

I was inspired off top gun, I saw the movie, (hell yeah, murica.) and made this one shot

OCXDonnie 

18+ for smut, guns, and blood.... Not in that order. 

Enjoy friends!

Donnie was very curious about his new girlfriend. Typically, him being the mutant ninja turtle, he was mystery, not this time though.

The only reason he wasn't concerned about her being gone for a few months at a time was because he trusted her. They've been together about 5 months. But like previously stated, three of those months have been long distance.

They were work trips, she contacted him at any point she could. But he never understood what it was she did for a living. She never told him, and he always wondered why, she would evade the question.

He let it go, until one fateful day he decided to call her. Never did she ignore a call, she would probably be on her way home from work about now.

The purple banded turtle got on his phone, leaning back in his chair, feet on his desk, careful of the computer right next to them as he heard the call start to go through.

Sure enough she answered, it was very windy, she must be riding her motorcycle. He found that incredibly sexy, loved watching her ride. The curve of her body as she was hunched over in the sports bike. How she was one with the contraption, god it was so hot, the tighter the clothing the better too.

"Uh-hi. Hi babe. This um. This isn't a good time" Don couldn't help but to sit up right and raise a brow, listening to her tone. She sounded distraught, very much so like she was extremely distracted by something.

"Lesya? Are you ok?" Her motorcycle was revving high, she was going high speeds, from the sound of the gravel skirting from under the tire she was taking some tight corners. What was going on?

The nerd turtle was heading out to the living room where his three brothers were watching a movie. The concern very clear on his face as he listened, something was wrong.

Leo immediately caught it and was the first to sit up, pausing the movie, and examining his brother and the call. His body shifted so he would be ready to get up quickly.

Mikey loved Lesya, she was feisty and he thought the mystery was both cool and a good change. Raph and Leo were always suspicious of the woman though. They weren't rude or disrespectful, just suspicious, they didn't care if she knew. And she never took it personally, she understood why, never held it against them.

"Um. It's nothing. I'm good" the motorcycle revved and he heard her skid around another corner. He felt the tension in his body grow, that went tenfold when he heard a very distinct sound.

"ARE THOSE GUNSHOTS?!" The purple banded turtle was now running to the turtle van, his brothers following him with plenty of urgency. One of the few times their feet weren't light as they all scrambled to leave the lair.

"Um. Yeah. I uh... someone may or may not be following me" Lesya was unnerved, but clearly she was focused.

"Is your location on? We'll track you!" Donnie hopped in the passenger seat, he needed to track her and lead his brother to where she was. His heart thrumming a million miles per hour with his panic.

Leo by now knew how to activate everything  on his own as he drove, Donnie keeping Lesya on speaker as he got on his wrist module to track her. She was close by, thankfully, but they needed to make every second count!

"Lesya, stay on the phone. I'm so sorry this is all my fault" the purple banded turtle stressed. He knew this was his fault, it was the foot, she was affiliated with him, they caught wind of it REAL quick, and now they were going after her to get to him.

"Don. Hey. No. No no no. This isn't your fault. Trust me. Don't you dare blame yourself. No matter what happens" the woman pleaded over the phone. His heart constricted when she said that, he can't lose her, she can't talk that way.

"Hey. We'll find her, it's all good Donnie boy" Mikey poked his head between the driver and passenger seat as Donnie pointed left on the adjacent street. Drifting between two cars, managing not to hit them, looking like some stunt driving straight out of a movie.

"Fuck" Don wasn't supposed to hear that. Lesya said it under her breath, as she came to a screeching halt, broken asphalt grinding under the tires once more of the bike. Why was she stopping? No, she needed to keep moving, she needed to keep moving until they could get to her, they were only a few blocks away.

"Lesya? Keep talking to me" Donnie was looking fearfully at the phone, his breath picking up, as he stared intently at the smart phone in his hand.

"Dead end" the woman admitted under her breath, the turtle heard a car screech to a stop, and car doors open.

"Don. I love you" the turtle's pupils got tiny. She thought she was going to die.

"LEO PUNCH IT!" the turtle howled at the oldest, he seemed stunned but did, large foot hitting the gas as far as it would go, Don pointed to the alleyway, instincts in full control.

Sure enough, they skirted into the alleyway, seeing both her bike, the SUV, two large men, and the woman he loved taking her helmet off. Leo couldn't flatten them, they were too close to Lesya.

Donnie didn't know who these people were, they weren't the foot, why were they after her?? The two men were sporting leather jackets and jeans, they had weapons, and were raising them up.

The smart brother didn't even wait for the garbage truck to stop, he was bailing out and already in a full sprint for his lover.

"I DON'T FEAR YOU IN THE FUCKING AIR! I SURE AS FUCK DONT FEAR YOU ON THE FUCKING GROUND EITHER!" She snarled

The two started to speak in a different language, one she clearly understood because she started to shout back in the same language. Donnie made it around the suv, straight shot for the two men as they were raising their guns to execute her.

When they heard the ninja who was purposely being loud to distract them, they pivoted their bodies to raise their weapons at him. Lesya did NOT like that, she threw the helmet she promised Donnie she'd wear straight at on of them, hitting him square in the head.

The second one missed the first shot as the turtle began to barrel through the two men. He felt a couple bullets ricochet off of him, but kept going. Adrenaline through the roof, as the two were plowed to the ground. At this point, Leo and Raph got to them, and started to handle the two to incapacitate them, prepare for the police to come pick them up.

Eyes moved behind thick glasses to the woman near the bike. She was panting, staring back at him blankly, her ice blue eyes widened, blinking a couple times. Before she turned to look at her side with confusion, where a red spot was growing in her white shirt.

"LESYA! LESYA NO!" he was by her side so quickly, catching her before she could finish collapsing to the ground. Cursing at himself! one of the bullets that came off his shell hit her! He hurt her!

"Lesya. Hey. Please! Please I need you to keep talking to me! What's my name? What's my name, love?" He began to put pressure on her wound, he needed to stop the bleeding!

"Donatello" she winced, almost seemingly annoyed with her situation.

"My.... my luck has been subpar tonight" she smiled a bit. The terrapin lifted her up, his heart wouldn't slow down.

"We have to get her back to my lab" he kept a kit on the truck, he would need to start working on her there.

"Lesya. You're going to be ok. You're going to be ok. Keep talking to me. What's your favorite color?" He needed to keep her talking, or she would go into shock and she would die!

"Green. And purple" this time she did smile at him, even through her pain. The turtle felt tears form in his eyes, please, please don't take this woman away from him, take him instead, anything, please.

.

.

A few days had passed, none of which the Brainiac turtle slept. His brothers brought him food, but he couldn't bring himself to eat. He never left her side, she was alive, he was able to patch her up.

Between the cold blooded fear of her not waking up, and the mounds of questions running through his head, how could he do anything?

Who were those men? What did she mean she didn't fear them in the sky? Why were they after her? What language were they all speaking?

He gave the 50th shaky breath of today alone, as he brought his rolling chair closer to her medical bed. Burying his head in his hands, he couldn't cry anymore, he was getting to the breaking point.

She was here because of him, he should've taken her safety into so much more consideration. Sure he was bullet proof, but she wasn't, he was supposed to PROTECT her! How could he do this to her.

His breathing was heavy, his body craving release from his despair from all the pent up tension, as he took a look back at her, ever so carefully taking a pale white hand, as if it was made of ash and would disintegrate in his large palm.

His free hand went under his glasses, to rub his eyes, as he tried to regain his emotions, the exhaustion definitely wasn't helping. He wasn't even drinking coffee so he had a head ache too, he was in rough shape, he needed Lesya.

He heard her breathing change, a deeper breath being taken, and he froze all movement. Staring at her, just as her head shifted ever so slightly, and she revealed her breath taking blue orbs. Blinking a few times, and then giving a soft groan as she took in her surroundings.

She held her head with her free hand, and carefully stretched out some stiff muscles. That's when she noticed his hand, the turtle wanted to tackle her with a hug, SHE WAS AWAKE! But he was so terrified he would hurt her again. Somehow, he forgot just how delicate she really was.

He settled for standing up, and carefully looming over her, bringing a hand to her face urgently.

"Lesya. Oh thank god. How do you feel?" His large green thumb went over her cheek, to which she eagerly leaned into, clearly happy he was here. Why he couldn't imagine, his recklessness got her here.

"I'm OK. You must have me on the good stuff" she gave a gentle giggle. The hand that didn't grip to his went to the back of the hand on her face, she kissed his wrist, a sigh of relief from her.

"I... I am so sorry. God I hope you can forgive me" Leo was right. They shouldn't be with humans, they were so fragile, and being this close meant they would be in danger. He was a danger to her. How could he?

"For what my love?" She seemed genuinely confused, but she was still very calm and was ready to hear him out. Purely so he could get whatever it was off his chest. Or plastron.

"I. That bullet ricocheted off me. That's why you got hit" she almost seemed amused at this.

"Don. You didn't shoot me. That was just bad luck. Relax. You act like I haven't been shot before" her posture, her smile, everything, she was blowing it off as if he didn't redirect a bullet at her and instead just blew out her birthday candles at her birthday party or something.

"What" his face was riddled with horror now.

"Don't take responsibility for what those nasty men were doing. You saved me. Thank you" Donnie.. He… has stuff like this happened to her before?!

"Who.... who were they?" They weren't any recognizable enemies of the turtles. So who were they and where did they come from? Why attack her so vigorously? Why her?

"A couple of Russian spies" her explanation was short, sweet, and left SO many more questions for the turtle.

"Russian spies.... I.... Lesya, why were Russian spies targeting you?" His concern was in suspended air for the moment, until he got his questions answered and he had time to let it sink in.

"To gain American citizenship. I joined the US air force. I had a degree, so I went in as a commissioned officer and became pilot. They threw me in an f16, where I learned to fly" the woman pursed her lips, she has never told anyone this.

"I was good enough to go to red flag. Where I was trained further to fly. I flew the f16 until my enlistment was up" Donnie was so confused as to where she was going with this, she seemed unnerved and kept dragging it out. As if not wanting to give him the real answer.

"When my 6 year enlistment timed out. I separated, got my citizenship, loved America and was ready to stay and never go back to my roots. And then Russia invaded my home" Don's brown eyes were staring so intently at her, he removed the hand from her face, still gripping her hand, he wasn't about to dare let go of her.

"Have.... have you heard of the ghost of Kyiv?" She was no longer making eye contact with him at this point.

"Of course. Pilot getting 6 kills in a mig 29 fulcrum. But the former president of Ukraine admitted it was just a myth, to boost war morale" Donnie thought it was so cool, still thought the whole concept was really cool. Even if it was just a myth, it brought so much hope to the forces of Ukraine.

"The ghost isn't a myth" she hoped he wouldn't make her say more. She carefully moved her line of vision towards him, he was staring at her as if he could see her soul, the silence made her uncomfortable, please say something Donnie.

"You.... you were the ghost!?" He didn't mean to say it so loud, but what the hell?! The ghost was real!? And it was his girlfriend??? Who he thought was so fragile not a minute ago but has 6 kills that he knew about because of exceptional flying skills???

"Y-yeah. That's uh... That's what I was doing for 3 months" she was training her fellow Ukrainians up, so they could keep up the good fight. She was staring down at her covered feet, sheepishly, the thin, blue, hospital blanket was a bit itchy.

She was forced to look at her boyfriend in the eyes when he ever so gently put a finger on her chin, and made her look at him. He was so stunned, she wondered how long they would be making eye contact for.

"Lesya. If this is a joke, I really can't take this right now. I am so worried about you" her eyebrows scrunched in concern for him. She was taking him in now, and she saw the bags under his eyes, the food left untouched on his desk.

"I am not joking. For 6 years I flew, and 3 months I fought the good fight for Ukraine" she deadpanned, why would she lie about something like this?

"I can't believe this" the turtle shook his head at her, as he released her and sat back in his chair. She couldn't help the disappointment from the loss of close contact, but felt bad for throwing this all on him at once, and during these circumstances. He clearly wasn't taking care of himself for however long she was out.

"Got the nickname "ghost of kyiv" because my call sign in the US air force was: Specter" she finished explaining, letting the room fall on silence.

She let him sit and mull it over, come to peace with it. He could talk if he both wanted to or when he was ready. She very carefully and gently sat up, she didn't feel too bad, her wound was healing up pretty well already. As long as she didn't aggravate it.

"You thought you were going to die that night" she turned her gaze back on him, her white hair she carefully pulled into a ponytail as she regarded him and listened to what he had to say.

"The last thing you said over the phone-" he almost seemed scared to continue. Her faded peach colored lips pulled into a small smile.

She very carefully and quietly got off the bed, the purple cladded turtle didn't see because he had a hand propped up, and leaned his head in his hand.

She moved his elbow off his thigh, slowly, placing a gentle hand on his plastron, and pushed him back to sit upright on his chair. Before he could say anything about her getting up, she kissed him passionately, multitasking, and moving herself to his lap, where she sat.

Once she was settled down there, she put her hands to his cheeks, grazing over his pebbled skin, and pulled away. Looking him in the eye.

"I've loved you for a while, that was not just the heat of the moment or me thinking I was going to die. No matter the situation, I won't say things I don't mean"

Poor Donnie was caught between demanding this woman take it easy, and trying to get over being love struck and stunned. The close proximity alone from someone he also loved so very deeply for created an automatic need from his body.

For his girlfriend, the ghost of kyiv, what a sexy title on her. God he could not believe this. His movements were slow and careful as he stood up with her, he wanted to kiss her again. She was alright, she was healing. Thank god.

But at the same time his body was hyper sensitive to her, and he was not about to start a chain reaction. Because he could hurt her further if he went further with her, his heart couldn't take anymore fear, not when it was centered around her health and wellbeing especially.

His large green arms set her back down on the medical bed, and he just watched her. Still unable to believe just what a bad ass his girlfriend was, she was famous but stuck in the shadows, just like him.

"Thank you for saving my life. And taking care of me" He could get lost in her eyes for hours. He needed to put some distance between them before he lost his resolve, his emotions were going rampant now that she was awake, alive, and felt ok. She was going to be ok.

"I would do anything for you" he breathed lowly, almost whispering to her. He was still in close proximity, looming over her, hands on the berth.

She watched him for a moment, reading his body, that gaze was doing astronomical amounts to him. He finally broke the trance, about to straighten his posture. But she quickly wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him back down and towards her 5'5 frame.

He let her, he needed her, needed to know she was OK, needed to show her how much he loved her back, he needed her, through and through. He got a little closer to her, so his plastron could gently press up against her chest. Thank god she was ok. She was ok and she LOVED him!! Him!

A churr resonated out of his chest, his body before he could stop it. He doesn't know if she knew the power she had over him right now, but it was a lot.

"I don't know what that is, but I love it" she grinned as she continued to peck at his lips with her own. Her hands went upward, finding the knot in his mask, and gripping on to it.

The purple cladded turtle was unsure at first, as he looked down at her. Her smile was knowing, and reassuring, as she delicately plucked his glasses off, slid his mask off, and then placed his glasses back on to rest on his beak.

She stopped kissing him, so she could look at him, take him in without his mask. Her smile only growing bigger, as she deposited his mask at the end of her bed with care, and eagerly pulled him down to her.

As if seeing him without his mask sent her into a frenzy of need. Her kisses became more hungry, as her hands began to explore him. When her hands trailed over the front of his plastron he shivered.

"I demand to see you without your mask more. Because holy fuck" Donnie was now starting to climb over her, words alone have never done this much to him in his life.

When her breath hitched, clearly she suppressed her pain, and tried to muffle herself, but he stopped instantly, cursing at himself. SHE WAS INJURED! She still needed to recover! What the hell was he doing??

"Lesya, we need to stop" his concern stopped every other emotion and urge in its tracks.

"Nonono. I'm fine, just twisted wrong a little" she smiled, not seemingly worried about her injuries in the slightest. She gripped one of the straps on his plastron and pulled him closer to her. He only allowed her to be successful because he didn't want her to strain herself.

He put his hands on the side of her face, looking down at her with a gentle expression. He placed his forehead to hers, nothing would make him more happy than making her his mate officially. But she needed to rest and she needed to heal.

"You need to wait. I'm so worried about you" he swallowed.

"I'm in better shape than you. We will only stop if you want to stop. I will be fine so we aren't stopping because of a stupid little flesh wound" her baby blues gave him a challenging look. She was pulling every card she knew to seduce him, but he can't give in, this was her health and safety on the line.

"Yes. We are" he growled firmly, staring her down. When she raised a brow at him and smiled, he began to realize she was probably into this.

He was so busy watching her eyes to make sure she'd behave herself, he didn't see where her hand was wondering off to. Until it firmly latched onto the already large bulge in his pants. He released a gasp and his thought process turned to mush.

"F-fuck" he moaned.

"Baby. We both need this" she wasn't smiling anymore, she looked so serious and determined.

"Lesya. Please. I'm so scared to hurt you" he was all but begging her in his response. Shit, is this what Raph felt like so frequently? It was awful, he had a newfound sympathy for the largest brother.

"Don. I am fine. You'll never hurt me. Please love?" She still had a soft grip to his pants. But paused in any and all movement, respecting the fact he needed to think about it.

"Fuck Lesya" another growl, this one in frustration as he leaned back in, his lips practically ghosted over her he was being so careful. Meanwhile a free hand when between her legs, getting a pleased gasp as he began to rub her.

It was a lose lose situation, he didn't want to deny her this, she needed it as much as he did. Even if she was injured, he'll just be sure to check on her continuously throughout this whole thing..

They both rubbed each other for a moment, until he started to climb over the top of her, watching precisely where he put pressure and how she moved. Keen ears keeping an eye out for any discomfort she might have. And while her arousal came at his sense of smell with a vengeance. He made sure to keep his sense of smell keen on the scent of blood, to make sure nothing reopened on her.

He would not get lost in himself, she was not going to be in absolutely any pain throughout any of this. He'll make sure of it. They parted lips so she could take off her top. For a split second and he was back at her mouth hungerly.

Not waiting for her to take her bra off, he quickly brought his large digit around her back, feeling for the clips, and releasing her breasts. He felt some raised skin of a few small scars and stopped. He moved his head to look at what he felt, they were scars, 3 at the back of her ribs.

"I wasn't joking when I say this wasn't my first time being shot. It's all good" she giggled. This woman, she was so hard core, so bad ass, what was she doing to him?

He went for her capris next, untying the waistband, and let her lift herself up. He was at the point where if he did it, he feared jostling her too much. So she got out of her panties as well, while the turtle she'd his gear off and placed it down carefully on the ground.

And then made his way right back on top of her, another moan ripping from his throat when the tip of his finger felt how wet she was. She bucked her hips ever so slightly on the welcomed intrusion.

"Fuck Donatello. The things you are doing to me right now. You are so fucking sexy" her lips were centimeters to his, her eyes explored his face, taking him in.

This woman completely undid him with words alone. He swears she was trying to get him to rut her in both her condition and their first time together.

Her grip went for his now bare member, again, he gripped the edge of the metal bed. A shaky gasp escaping him, as the metal bent a little in his grip. Leaving permanent indents of his fingers, his eyes quickly went to hers. Hoping he didn't just scare her, he physically couldn't stop himself right now.

She eyed what he had just done, and a devilish smirk came to her eyes. He realized this woman wasn't as fragile as he thought. She truly was the fearless ghost of kyiv, she trusted him, she loved him.

He captured her lips in another scalding kiss, probing his head in her soaking wet entrance. A hand on her hip to keep her steady and to ensure she had as little movement to her midsection as he could.

And he began to rub his cock between her hot, wet, and swollen lips. Keeping the gentle movements up so he could coat himself, and prepare himself for her.

Her pleasured verbal whimpers were music to his ears, he felt a twitch in his extremities from the attention. As long as he waited, mainly trying to figure out if she was hiding more pain than she originally let on, she seemed relaxed and enjoying herself. He probed her with the head of his cock, watching her.

Ever so gently and slowly, he gave her small thrusts, so she could naturally lube him in small portions, and stretch out so she could take him. His grip grew tight on the berth again, he had to release the kiss so he could breathe while he felt her tightly clutch him. Fuck she was so warm and tight.

He kept moving his hips very slowly and gently, working himself into her warmth. Churring and groaning the entire time, until he bottomed himself out and let out a loud groan, wanting a moment to take her in.

"Fuck! Fuck Donnie!" Lesya cried, her face twisted in her pleasure.

"You ok Lesya?" His face twisted with concern, she hasn't given any indicator she was in pain. No smell of blood or signs of discomfort, he observed her from a medical standpoint.

"Ahhh. I'm-" She bit her lip, still adjusting to him.

"I'm ok. I need you baby, please" fuck, she was begging him. His instincts wanted to take control sooo bad. But he wasn't about to let that happen, he was going to take care of her.

His hands snaked to her ass, and he gave a gentle thrust. Causing her to gasp, he held her hips firmly, watching her wound as his thrusts were a solid pace, but not as quick as they'd both want them to be. Lesya didn't seem to be complaining as her face twisted in pleasure. She tried looking up into his eyes as he delivered her pleasure. But she didn't make it long before she closed her eyes again.

He kept his movements going with a fraction of his strength, his arm shaking with the strain of holding himself back. She felt so good, he just wanted to ravage her so badly. Especially when he felt her tighten up.

He moved his hips so he would be pulled out of her until his head was the only thing left in her. And then angled his hips and he pressed back into her.

Her breaths were in unison with his gentle movements, like she needed him to keep going or shed forget how to breathe.

Her small hand clutched his, and as he moved into her tight heat, her hand would tighten around his hand and her face morph to show her pleasure. He was obsessed with watching his lover as he moved.

He couldn't wait for her to be completely healed and REALLY make her squirm. Make her scream with pleasure, in the meantime, the gentle lovemaking did things to him. It was so sensual, they were so close and tender with each other.

He had to pause when she got tighter on him, he was breathing hard in his efforts against himself. Pulling out until head head was at her entrance, her muscles massaging his tip. He didn't want to come, not yet.

He reigned in his body, and then began to thrust back into his beautiful mate. Wiping the smug look off of her face as her chest heaved with his movements.

"Can you come for me? Hmm?" his voice was low and hoarse in her ear. He presses his hips flush to hers and wiggled to make sure she felt every inch, she cried out in pleasure. Urging him to keep going, finally she came, he stopped so he could steady her and help her brace. Hands planted on her hips so she didn't move her side where her injury was.

"Fuck Donnie" she was panting. He gave her a moment, and then Leaned down to kiss her, as he pushed through her tight muscles, feeling her pulse around him. And try to milk him.

He was getting close as her body worked his, he gave a few more thrusts, wanting to pick the pace up, but refusing to, that would make him too rough with her.

"Lesya. I’m. I’m about to come" he warned her, as he kept the soft movement up, feeling the electricity of his body, about to explode. She pulled him down for a kiss, running her fingers over his shell, and that did him in.

"Lesya. I love you. Nnngh! I love you so much" he his chest heaved as he poured himself into her. Until she was too full and overflowing of his seed. He was panting and his muscles were sore from the internal battle.

"You ok? Baby?" A large finger turned her face towards him. He smiled at the cloud 9 expression she had on her face.

"I am very much so ok" she assured, knowing he needed a verbal response to put himself at ease.

"You need to take it easy now baby. You've been pushing yourself so hard" he carefully lifted her up, rolled them, and placed her on his chest. Not pulling out of her.

He could never get over the size difference, his hand could damn near cover half her entire back. As he softly ran a hand up and down it.

"Yeah I'm not doing that" she said quickly, making his head jolt down to look at her in warning.

"Donatello. I’ve faced death in the air, all while going 5gs while I did it. You're sexy when you do that. Not scary, I don't fear you, not even a little" be realized she's faced death enough times to not fear it as a whole.

The turtle watched his mate, as she placed a hand under her chin, parting her large lips as she gazed at him. A smile threatening to tug at her lips, her eyes pierced into him.

"I will go out of my way to not take it easy until you take care of yourself. How much have you eaten, when's the last time you had time to yourself to take care of your body?" She looked at his arm where his scales were taking on an unhealthy white color, he hasn't been showering and moisturizing.

She's explored his body enough to know exactly where he's at with his own health. She ran a hand over his arm scales with concern, and then looked at his exhausted eyes.

"I am fine. But I refuse to let you continue the path you are. Go take care of yourself"

"Is this a rebellion?" He raised a brow ridge.

"Absolutely" she assured.

"I better take this seriously. Lord knows slavic people like you will go far for the sake of a rebellion" he joked, making her give an airy giggle, he smiled at her. But quickly moved his grip to the table when she suddenly threw her body back on his slowly softening and highly sensitive member.

"Fuck Lesya" his breathing was picking up again, as he tried to calm himself down. Placing his forehead against her shoulder, as his breathing slowed down.

"You going to do what you need to? And do what you're told?"

"Depends on who you ask. My cock? Very much likes what's going on here, and doesn’t want to leave. But my brain?... no it also very much so likes what's going on here and doesn't want to leave" they both snickered at that. As the turtle Leaned back, a big smile on his face at her.

Lesya gave him an innocent peck, and slowly pulled him out of her, careful of her damage. The turtle below her couldn't help a groan as she did. And she climbed off of him.

"Go on Donnie. The only thing that can scare me is when something bad happens to you. Including your own negligence and abuse to yourself" she admitted, making the turtle pause after he got up, and stared at her. He always knew he loved her, but today she was hitting every chord possible in his heart to prove he gave the right person his affection.

"I love you Lesya" he leaned back over, kissing her lips, and then kissing her forehead.

"I love you too" she assured. And he knew she did, God he knew she did. His bad ass, fearless mate gave him all she had, it was beautiful.

He gave her her underwear back, but didn't want her to redress and irritate her injury. So he settled with giving her a gown to cover herself up while he was gone.

"So you can undress me easier later?" She raised a brow. The nerd turtle gave her a Cheshiregrin, he didn't realize that until now.

"Now that you mentioned it? Yes" they both snickered. As he put on his gear, she just watched him, her eyes gave the fact away that she was in a pleasant daze. Probably because Don was unintentionally running his hands over his own body as he got his gear on. She was obsessed with his body, and she wanted him to known it.

"Ill be right back" he put his mask back on.

"No. Take some time to yourself. I'll still be here when you get back. Take a few hours, make yourself some good food-"

"You know I can't cook, its why I only hang out in the kitchen and watch you and my brother cook" he interrupted, bringing an amused smile to her eyes.

"Mikey can cook then. He's clearly been doing that while I was out" the food on his desk wasn't good anymore, it was clearly out for several hours.

"Alright. Ill see you in a few hours then" this time he went in for a gentle hug, hunching himself over to place his face against her hair, taking her scent in. She nodded, liking that answer better, he released her, and began to walk to the door of the lab. He had it open a crack when he looked back at her.

"You behave yourself in here, ghost of kyiv" she gave an airy chuckle as he grinned at her and opened the door all the way, only to nearly run into 3 stunned brothers.

"WHAT?!" came Mikeys exclamation.

#tmnt #tmnt donatello #tmnt raph #tmnt leonardo #tmnt mikey

[miss0atae]

The Jungle - 7th Episode Review

I’m late again but here we go with the review of the 7th episode.

We got back at the time where Pladao was explaining the death of her cousin. Hack was kind of surprised while Hunter gave of the impression that he doesn't give a shit. His condolences lacked warmth. I was a bit afraid that the episode would be centered around Hack when they started taling about tarantula. Fortunately it wasn’t the case. Evil Naan arrived and gave Pladao some info about her cousin. I found Hack super weird during the scene. The way he was looking at them and his facial expressions. Something is not right with him.

So the info from Evil Naan was that he knew a friend of Pladao’s cousin and they both went to meet that girl. Evil Naan was pretending to be the doctor of Pladao’s cousin and for that he just decided to wear glasses. I mean who can fall for this disguise? Especially when he put them when she is in front of him. Does he think the girl is so gullible that she would fall for it? Pladoa complains about his stupid lie and she is speaking for the audience at this point. Luckily the plot is helping Evil Naan because the girl indeed fall for it and helps them. She gave him a phone with a picture of the cousin and some gossips about the mysterious boyfriend. Of course no one knows his name because this is really a healthy relationship. If my friend refuse to give me the name of her boyfriend I would really become wary but this friend did not do anything. Everyone is dumb is this show otherwise it doesn’t work. Of course after hearing all of that, Evil Naan is sure that this mysterious boyfriend can't be Naan. Pladao still thinks it's Evil Naan because of the pictures. This episode shows again that Evil Naan and Naan have a weird relationships and the series could have addressed that in a better way but no why writing something that makes sense when you can make it beyond understanding. Anyway, Pladoa wants to send him details that she gathered about her cousin and so she asks for his mail. Back at home she is checking him on internet with it. I can’t believe that he would be stupid to use this mail for everything but I forgot I was watching The Jungle when the most stupid move is always the one they chose to do. So she found a private Instagram and directly she thinks he sells drugs. Who in his right mind would use Instagram to sell drugs??? Can someone explain it to me?

So cut to Pladao and Kitti going at Kaewta’s house. I'm sure the guy is suspicious. I Can't trust him. There is a bad vibe around him Look at him with all his questions! Why is she trusting this guy anyways? He was the one who said it was Naan but he has no real evidences. Don't trust him!! Why Okay, she found a diary and she gave it to him. Don't give him anything! Why is she so trusting with him but the other men she can’t trust any of them. Don't listen to him, pleas! He wants to do something else now. He is avoiding her and trying to distract her from her investigation. How can she trust him?! It's frustrating. She didn't trust any of the Jungle but the friend... No question asked. Back at home and she is still investigating Evil Naan when she should investigate the friend. Why is she still on this exposing the RV and the Jungle? How will it help her? Girl, you're an idiot. Using Twitter for this is even more dumb. I don't understand her at all. She looks like she found the best way but it's not a clever move at all. Okay so people knows where is the RV now. Evil Naan finds her and takes her somewhere else to ask her why she did that. She still acts like Evil Naan dated her cousin. So she is still on with this idea because she followed him on Instagram by pretending to be someone else and found a picture of him and her cousin. Evil Naan revealed that he indeed dated her cousin and she broke up with him apparently. Why did you say it before? Why dragging this to that point? When he met Kaewta, he pretended to be his brother. Why would you do that??? Now I’m sure Pladao and Evil Naan are soulmates because they are both super dumb.

Okay so Evil Naan met Kaewta outside of the bar. They had cute moments but it came to an end when she met the real Naan and he didn't know about her. Again, why Evil Naaan pretended to be his brother? This is stupid. Naan is not happy because he was with another girl and he realizes that she misunderstood him with his twin. After that Naan appeared and she slapped him because well he did something wrong. He tried to find her again and apologize but she doesn't want to listen to him. She said that she doesn't trust the things he said to her which is understandable. That was a dumb move to pretend being someone else. He has a problem. Okay so Evil Naan really liked the cousin but lied to Pladao about knowing her. She asks the real question: why pretending to be Naan? He thinks that Naan has an easier life. (What the hell? Why would he think that?) He has such an inferiority complex when it comes to his twin. Man you need a therapy. All the people who gathered outside could not find the bar so they left. The Jungle made the action to hide but showing a bunch of other addresses on internet. Pladao's plan was bad from the beginning anyway.

Okay so all the men are here except Naan and they are not happy with Evil Naan. Pladoa is still thinking she did nothing bad. Girl, it was stupid and not really well thought out. Why should people knows about the RV? Especially that she has proved continually that she's bad at finding the truth. Stop it trying to be the detective. Evil naan defend her but the others laugh at him. Gosh I will have to change his name to Sweet Naan now. Okay Pine was super cruel at that point because he knows how to be very hurtful by comparing Evil/Sweet Naan with his twin. Ouch! Okay so Evil/Sweet is quitting or getting kicked out? Pladao tries to understand and they all think it's their fault if things didn't work out well. Pladao is right, it's hard to know who is the real Evil/Sweet Naan. He is very confusing! Are they flirting right now?! He was just talking about your cousin and you thought you could kiss him You need to check your feelings Pladao!

Pladao is again trying to find info and finally reading that diary! I knew it was that dude! KittiTiwi was so suspicious. Kaewta wrote in her diary that he helped her during this hard time. He totally killed her. The pregnancy revelation was proof enough that the man who killed her didn’t want to deal with it.

Why is Pladao going to talk to Kitti like that? Please talk to someone who knows how to make a real plan. You're not fit for that job! Thankfully, the plot is so easy to follow. Of course he tries to brush it off but Pladao finally knows the truth. She accused him of murdering her cousin and they are alone in the shop. I wouldn’t feel safe. He tries to laugh and tells her to move on. I believe he wasn't thinking that she would be such a pain in his ass when he killed her cousin. Okay, she wasn't really alone. Evil/Sweet Naan was hiding next so she isn't that stupid. So their plan was to rile him.... It could have backfired. This is not a plan. This is suicide mission. They need real help. So they have a conversation about how to find the truth. They want to make him believe Kaewta is still alive. What a ridiculous plan again. A ghost? Where are we? Their plan sucks but it works to make Kitti being afraid. He is taking a taxi to flee but it’s the wrong taxi because it has Evil/Sweet Naan inside. Kitti then wakes up in the bathroom of the RV. This place is so useful. This is the real main character of the show XD. We learn that Kitti killed the cousin because she was difficult... Why not just breaking up with her? Why pretending to be nice and to have the baby with her? Why being a liar? He pretendedto give her medicine for morning sickness and killed her instead. Well, it’s time to pay for his evil actions and we knew it would happen. Evil/Sweet Naan beats the shit of this guy. It is actually refreshing because he clearly deserves it. What is funny is that Pladao came inside the room just to help Evil/Sweet Naan. It’s their fun couple activity to bond. This episode is completely unrealistic. The police comes to arrest Kitti but says nothing about his injuries that he probably got from Evil/Sweet Naan and Pladao. Anyway, they want a statement and Pladao decide to go their alone to protect Evil/Sweet Naan’s identity. This scene ends with a sweet hug between them.

In the next scene, Pladao meets with Evil/Sweet Naan to thank him for his help. She also add that he needs be his true self because he is as good as his twin. She uses his trick with the coin to tell him to gives his real name to people from now on. He admits that he likes her. I think they should have had more time to develop their relationship. He flirts a lot in this two last minutes. Why are they playing their relationship with the coins? Why not just deciding by yourself? At least we got a kiss. I was waiting for it but I'm disappointed. I expected more from them. All the love stories are disappointing, to be honest, which is sad because the actors are not bad. So it’s definitely right to sat that the story is not well written. The concept was intriguing but it doesn’t make sense most of the time. They introduce ideas and never follow them. Their characters don’t have a real personalities and they don’t get the time to have one either. I think I didn’t understand that scene properly. Are they not together? Why making the story so complicated for no reason. Date if that's what you both want. I mean Naan got married in the last episode and he probably stayed a real short time with Nithan. Why Evil/Sweet Naan can’t get a better love story. He was my favorite… after Hunter.

Pladao has decided to drop the Jungle story. Thank you for finally doing what is the best! So she got a message from Evil/Sweet Naan flirting with her. I don’t like that they are not really dating. I would completely rewrite that story if I was the writer.

The episode is not even finished that we get who will be the main characters of the next episode. Irin is in trouble at the airport and Pine came to help her avoid the journalists. She wants to stay at the RV. While she is there, she opened the door to find Hack and not Pine who she was waiting for and that’s the end of the episode. What can I say… I don’t care about Hack, Pine and Irin. What's his deal anyway…

So I was really disappointed by this episode. It was super boring and I almost didn’t make a review of it. I really wanted something better for Pladao. I expected until the end that she would get a better story but no… nothing. Evil Naan is not evil anymore and was never truly Evil. We still did not get any answers about his relationship with Naan and why he acted crazy in the last episode when apparently he is super nice and sweet. Pladao and him don’t even have the chance to have a second episode centered around them that we jump to the triangle love between Hack, Pine and Irin. The pace of the story is worst than ever. I understand why so many people don’t like it. It has big flaws and nothing can save it anymore. It’s sad because the actresses on GMMTV don’t get a lot of chances to shine. They deserve better.

#thai series #gmmtv series #the jungle the series #my review #Evil Naan is Sweet Naan now #We need better writing for all the gmmtv actresses #boring episode

[ambitionsource]

AMBITION “Reassessment” [ 4.09 ]♮PART 1, half 2

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Speaking of said mother and son, Charlie and Eleanor are out shopping as part of the errands Eleanor needs to run. They get distracted from their mission in the NYU neighborhood though when they just so happen to run into Riley outside one of her favorite campus eateries, grabbing lunch between classes and rehearsal.

This is probably Charlie’s one friend that Eleanor is happy to find by surprise. She can’t help but grin as she watches Riley give him an enthusiastic hug, then returns her cheerful greeting.

Eleanor: It’s nice to see you again. I wish we’d be seeing more of you around, now that Charlie is back from abroad. Riley: Oh, believe me, me too. I’m just so busy right now with school, and the musical. It’s a miracle I have time to think straight.

Not to mention the election she successfully organized for that candidate Eleanor dislikes so much, but they choose not to bring that up. Willful ignorance. Instead, she asks more about school. How is Riley liking NYU? While she has nothing but nice things to say about it, she changes tracks, shifting focus to Charlie instead.

Riley: I know Charlie just can’t wait to join us in academia. I tried real hard to convince him to apply to NYU -- Charlie: Okay, please… Eleanor: You did? Riley: But I don’t seem to have won on that front. It’s okay, though. He can’t get rid of me no matter how close or far he plants himself.

Riley gives him a playful side hug, then affectionately boops his jaw. Charlie laughs, brushing her off, but also shooting her a side-eye. Oh she is just milking this for all its worth… and Eleanor is eating up every last bite, failing to hide her utter delight at watching them interact.

Gaslighting aside, Riley is serious about one thing. She takes care to reiterate how nice it is to have Charlie back, but how proud all of them are of him for taking the leap and doing the gap year. Not only is it just plain cool, but it’s more than apparent how much good it did him and how much he’s growing. Riley can’t help but be happy for him, as well as confident he’s only going to continue to do so.

Riley: I can’t imagine how happy you must be. He really does make us all proud.

Eleanor considers that, the authentic admiration not laced with the usual subtle digs common in her social circles. She glances at Charlie, nodding along.

Eleanor: Yes. Yes, he certainly does.

Charlie smiles, then turns it on Riley, who returns it with a beam of her own.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - GARAGE - NIGHT

Zay is back to work in his garage, dutifully putting the finishing touches on his Turner audition. It’s come together, and he’s feeling good about it, so all there is left to do is run it into the ground until he gets it just right. Given his one-track mind mentality, should be a piece of cake.

Only… not quite. Because for as invested as he is, he finds himself constantly distracted. He keeps going back to his phone, absentmindedly clicking into his calendar app and emails.

Mainly to look at the details for his callbacks. The ones he must’ve followed up on after all, because he now has the time and date. Not that he’s actually going to go… but why not? Why shouldn’t he? It’s just like he told Yindra -- any practice is good practice, isn’t it?

It feels like a dangerous game to be splitting his attention before one of the biggest auditions of his life. In fact, in his head, he can’t deny he feels like he should be thinking about absolutely nothing else. The obsession should be natural; the ambition blinders should be intrinsic.

Yet here he is, contemplating even more opportunity instead. Just a passing instinct, maybe…

Yindra, pre-lap: I’m just not sure. I don’t know how to know if it’s the right next move.

INT. YINDRA’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Yindra is in the living room, curled up on the couch in her pajamas. She’s talking through the girl group offer with Jade, who is similarly dressed and sitting on the floor while she works on a sewing project for Pinhead Threads.

Yindra: It’s just… not what I expected. I always had it in my head that my career would be a solo endeavor. It’s hard to reprogram that image, I guess. Jade: Sure, but there are tons of big name stars who started out in groups. It’s not a bad kickstarter. Destiny’s Child is one of your favorite artists, right? Look at Beyoncé. Yindra: No, I know. So everyone keeps telling me. I don’t think it’s a dead-end path by any means -- granted I even make the cut and join up in the first place. [ hesitant ] I just… don’t want to end up on the other side of the girl group spectrum.

That is to say, there’s only one Beyoncé. She doesn’t want to be a Michelle. Or Ally. Or Leigh Anne -- basically any member of a group who is only really still known by their original fans and never broke out into the stratosphere like their contemporaries on their own merit. She doesn’t want to make one choice and freeze her career forever in the shadow of someone else.

She doesn’t want to make the wrong first move.

Jade: I mean, could it really be the wrong one? You have a certified agent with credentials who believes in your ability, which is good. Yindra: Yes. Jade: And even if you don’t end up getting the group gig, it would be putting you in front of other execs and stuff, right? So it’s a fast track way to get your name in front of others. Yindra: True. Jade: I’m not saying it’s an obvious answer. You know I don’t know like, anything about the performing side of all this. So take what I’m saying with a grain of salt. Just, coming from a terrible first start opportunity myself, I still don’t necessarily think it was the wrong move to take it. Yindra: Really? Despite how awful Anya was? Jade: It wasn’t ideal, no, but I’m glad I did it anyway. Partially because of the experience, which was still useful, but also because it did a lot in showing me what I didn’t want. If I hadn’t had such a sour start with AK, I might not have ever been motivated enough to take the leap out here to Los Angeles when the chance popped up. I think sometimes you have to try a few things and discover what isn’t working for you before you figure out what exactly it is that does.

Wise words, and all too true. Yindra takes that point, nodding along.

Yindra: I guess it wouldn’t hurt to see what it’s all about. Do the audition run at least and see what happens.

Jade mirrors her nod, offering a smile. From the kitchen area, DARIUS AMINO pipes up.

Darius: See, it’s funny how when you say all that, she listens. Whereas if I had given her that exact same advice --

Yindra groans, rolling her eyes, while Jade cracks up.

INT. CHARLIE’S APARTMENT - DAY

The next morning, Charlie and Eleanor swing by the apartment to grab a couple things before their adventures of the day. Based on her expression as she looks around, it’s the first time she’s seen the place since they moved him in at the start of the year.

Eleanor: This looks nice. It’s coming together well. Charlie: Thanks. Still kind of settling in, but it does what it needs to do.

Eleanor’s approval dims somewhat when Lucas enters from his room, dressed for a shift at Chubbies. Which is to say, in worn jeans and a Chubbies tee that has probably seen sharper days. Just as schlubby as ever… Charlie greets Lucas cheerfully like always, and Eleanor echoes it, though hers is laced with apprehension. Still, she’s good at faux politeness, as it’s basically her calling card…

Though Lucas sees right through her. He knows she thinks he’s demon spawn, so this chance interaction is more an opportunity for a laugh for him than anything else.

Eleanor: How are you? Lucas: Me? Oh, good as ever. I just got fired, so I’m back to whoring myself out to the capitalistic masses. Eleanor: Oh… dear. Lucas: It’s fine though -- bureaucracy wasn’t for me anyway. I’m thinking I can go bigger this time around. Word on the street is there might be some openings with the mob, and I think I could stand my ground as a bodyguard. I’m quick with a switch, at least, so.

He’s clearly joking, if you know him -- which Eleanor absolutely does not. She has to assume he is, but there’s just enough mystery there to wonder whether he’s serious… which only makes him more terrifying. Charlie gives Lucas a look, like really, to which he smiles innocently in response.

Lucas: But other than that, can’t complain. ‘Bout as good as it ever is.

Charming. Charlie rolls his eyes and claims he’s going to go grab the stuff they need, so he’ll just be a second. This leaves Eleanor temporarily alone, which she doesn’t seem thrilled with. But Lucas does her the favor of ignoring her, finishing up getting ready for his shift by gathering things into his ratty backpack.

Once she gets a look at it, something about it seems to catch Eleanor’s eye. She squints to get a better look.

Eleanor: Where did you get that? Lucas: [ surprised she’s speaking to him ] What? The backpack? It was like five bucks at Goodwill. Eleanor: No, the patch. That one on the front pocket.

Lucas frowns, taking a look for himself. It’s a nondescript sewn patch, featuring doodles of bread, fruit, and a logo of some kind that’s so faded it’s impossible to make out. Lucas shrugs.

Lucas: I don’t know. Pretty sure my mom gave it to me. When I was little. Don’t remember why. Eleanor: Oh… I see.

Eleanor’s tone has lost some of its nerves, but not necessarily for the better. In fact, it seems some of her smugness has returned, that patch for whatever reason reaffirming her sense of the world.

Lucas has no idea what she’s on about, or why she cares, and thankfully it doesn’t matter. Charlie returns in the next moment, offering a bright smile and asking if his mom is ready to head out. She agrees, saying an offhand goodbye to Lucas and wishing him the best of luck with his job prospects. She knows it can be tough out there for a guy like him.

Whatever the hell that means… Lucas nods and lets them go, choosing not to engage with whatever bizarre ego trip she seems to be on now. How someone like Charlie came from someone like her, he has no clue… as a catchy pop beat kicks up --

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - RECORDING STUDIO - DAY

Maya is in the booth recording the vocal line for whatever track they’ve been given by the label. Based on the brief snippets we can get from her vocal line and the glimpses of the production demo, it sounds like your standard pop anthem. Although she’s serving like always, she doesn’t seem totally invested. She’s close to phoning it in, if there’s even a Maya equivalent to that.

Once they finish the take, Maya comments that maybe they should do another. She didn’t feel completely sold on that run. Justin leans over and clicks the mic.

Justin: Don’t worry. You sounded fire. Maya: I know. I always do. But I think it could’ve been better. Melissa: We don’t have much time in the studio. We need to have this track laid down for the shoot later this week. Maya: Okay. But I just think -- Engineer: Whatever needs tweaking, we can clean it up in post.

Maya looks especially displeased with that. If she can have it her way, she would rather deliver a natural killer take than have her vocals edited by some engineer who knows squat about carrying a tune. She takes a risk and pushes back.

Maya: Doesn’t this whole thing feel a bit rushed? I think if we’re trying to impress the label, then we might want to do this right.

The engineer releases a sigh.

Engineer: I thought that whole diva thing was a shtick for a song…

Okay. Bitch. Maya starts to get up in arms, but Melissa quickly intervenes to save face. She calls for a five minute break and steps into the studio to join Maya, signaling to Justin to cut the mics so that they can have some privacy. He does so, giving her a thumbs up.

Once it’s just one-on-one, Melissa asks Maya what’s up. She sounds great, so what is she worried about?

Melissa: And ignore Jake, he’s consistently an asshole. We only worked with him here because it was so short notice. Maya: Well, that’s kind of my point. Doesn’t this all feel so fast? I know I pulled “O.M.G.” together fast, and Josh and I put “LolliPop” together in a couple days. But it was our vision, we had complete creative control. This feels like rushing through something that someone else is dictating, and I don’t see how that’s going to make a good product. Melissa: Welcome to the business, babe. Wish it weren’t so. Maya: I just think -- no offense to the label, but I know for a fact some of the demos in my portfolio are better than this. We could make a way bigger splash with them, with something that has actual character. Isn’t there any chance we could --

So she’s still on this original material thing. Melissa nods along, understanding her instinct, but she shuts her down pretty swiftly. She gets that this isn’t the most ideal way to keep the machine rolling, but it’ll get them where they want to go. She just needs to keep looking good, singing great, and leave the finagling to them.

Melissa: But I tell you what, I will find some time on our calendars after we get this track wrapped up and ready to go to discuss your portfolio. Okay? Sound good?

Maya accepts that bone, placated for now. She claims she’s ready to get back to work, putting her headset back on. Melissa beams, patting her shoulder proudly and leaving the booth.

Maya: Just waiting on you, Jake. Ready when you are.

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - OFFICES - DAY

Meanwhile, out in the office box, Josh is discussing his own client dilemmas. ROWAN PHELPS and BRIAN HARRIS are his audience, and based on their reactions, they share his reservations about the direction Floyd wants to go. Just far less tenderly.

Phelps: Josh, you cannot let that little dude release that cover as his first single. He will crash and burn so hard there won’t even be remains to recover. Josh: I know! I know that. Brian: Where is he getting his absolutely batshit confidence from? Because I need it. Phelps: You have to get him to release something else. Anything else. Because I’ve heard that cover of his, and I swear my ears were bleeding for days after. Josh: I know, all right. I’m aware. But I don’t want to disappoint him. He’s been patient with me, and he’s really excited about this. I want his first single drop to be a good experience. I don’t want to be an asshole or feel like I’m not supporting him.

As far as Brian can tell, that’s the obvious solution.

Brian: Drop him! There is no saving no talent. I would’ve dumped him ages ago. You stick with a sinking ship, you’re gonna get sunk. Phelps: You are the pinnacle of integrity, Bri, really. Brian: Look, call me an asshole, but y’all know I’m right. There’s no saving this one.

And that’s the tea. Josh doesn’t look happy with his take, and wants to disagree, but part of him worries there might be a degree of truth… Phelps rolls their eyes, closing off their conversation to just the two of them.

Phelps: He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. This industry gave the Kardashians a career, as well as Shawn Mendes. Talent is not a prerequisite.

Well, Shawn Mendes would be several steps up for Floyd’s voice, but that’s besides the point. But all of them are right that whatever he does, releasing the “Feelin’ Good” cover will be a death sentence for his barely started career. Not to mention it’ll embarrass the hell out of Josh’s fledgling producership.

Josh sighs, pulling his beanie over his eyes.

INT. REESE’S OFFICE - DAY

Yindra is back in Reese’s office, telling him that she’s decided she is interested in the girl group auditions. The least she can do is show up, feel it out, and see how things go. Reese is pleased with this, and thanks her for giving it a chance. He seriously does believe this could be a great opportunity for her.

Reese: I have to warn you, though, this audition process won’t be quite like anything else you’ve done before.

It’s not a one-and-done process. A group is all about chemistry, and balance, so she’s going to be doing a lot more vocal, dance, and interacting than she’s used to. It’s more like a marathon of standing out from the crowd, rather than a one-time-only show-off. Does she think she can do it?

Intimidating to say the least, but what does she have to lose? Yindra nods, inviting the challenge.

EXT. LOCAL FOOD BANK - DAY

Charlie and Eleanor make their way into a large, well-maintained building, already bustling with activity for the afternoon.

INT. LOCAL FOOD BANK - DAY

This volunteer organization is part food bank, part soup kitchen, but fully dedicated to helping those with less means keep from going hungry. On the wall just inside the entrance, their company brand is painted as a mural -- and suddenly, it looks way more familiar than before. Some doodles of bread and fruit, and a not-so-faded logo.

That explains how Eleanor recognized the patch… and the conclusions she drew from it. If Lucas got this from Grace, all those years ago, then there’s high likelihood the food bank has served Grace before. And in Eleanor’s world, if his mother was desperate enough to be coming to get their help, then much about the way he turned out makes complete sense.

She would never project those biases openly though, and you’d never think it with how she’s received at the bank. All of the employees and volunteers greet her cheerfully as they enter, as she’s a well-established regular at this point from the volunteer and charity side of things. She takes care to introduce Charlie to everyone, and they all take care to tell him just how vital his mother is to the community. It’s a wonder what they’d do without her!

Eleanor is definitely proud of this fact, based on her expression. And Charlie seems happy to hear it, happy to see how glad she is to be involved. It’s this kind of stuff that reminds him just how generous his mother can be, values he’s tried to emulate his entire life.

One of the organizers gestures for them to follow so they can give Charlie the brief tour, before they settle into the work of the day.

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - DINING ROOM - DAY

At the same time, Sydney has set up a home base crisis management station at the MacNamara home. She’s dominated the dining room table, and currently, she’s walking Zachary through potential damage control plans they can implement in the coming days to get ahead of the story. They’re waiting for Leticia to arrive to really dig into the publicity side, but right now, Sydney is mainly concerned with schooling his reactions to protect them.

And it’s understandable why. She laments during their session how much crazier engagement has gotten, and not for the better. She is constantly fielding unsolicited inquiries from media companies to get Zachary on the record, and more than one nosy reporter is looking for an exclusive interview. Not to mention the insane fans -- her block button has been getting way more exercise than usual since the news broke. Zachary frowns.

Zachary: I’m sorry, Syd. I know this isn’t what you signed up for. Sydney: I mean, it kind of is. Comes with the territory. Zachary: I guess, but not to this degree. I’m sorry you’re roped into it too, that you have to field it all. I’ll pay you overtime, just tell me the hours -- Sydney: It’s fine. Seriously.

It’s annoying, but she’ll deal. She’s loyal to him, and anyway she can help, she will do it. Doesn’t mean she has to be happy about it, though…

Or necessarily graceful to the unintended perpetrators. She clams up, tenderness ebbing, when Isa enters the room. They were just stopping in to check how things were going before heading out to meet up with Farkle, but they sense the change in energy as soon as they walk in.

Isa: I didn’t mean to interrupt. Zachary: Oh, no. No, you’re fine.

Sydney doesn’t offer the same reassurance, back to battling the mania on her phone. Isa waits a moment, unsure how to address… everything, so they offer the bare minimum instead.

Isa: I’m going to meet up with my friend, Farkle. But I wanted to check if there was anything I could -- Sydney: He’s vetted, right? He’s not going to take advantage of this, is he? Isa: Farkle? No. [ shaking their head ] No, he’s cool. He would never hurt me -- or us. Like, he knows how much shit affected me with Val. He’s about as safe as it gets for me.

Sydney doesn’t seem convinced, but she’s suspicious of just about everyone at the moment. Zachary is less so, encouraging Isa to have fun. They’ll catch up when they’re back. Isa nods, awkwardly retreating from the conversation.

INT. NYU - THEATER - DAY

Lucas feels just about as awkward arriving at the NYU theater, carrying lunch from the bakery Riley likes. Although he’s no stranger to auditoriums, he knows he’s out of place in this one, especially with the frantic nature of dress rehearsals. Mostly, he just feels in the way.

And some folks won’t hesitate to tell him so. IMOGEN LEE catches him hovering in the wings, shooting him a dirty look and making her way over.

Imogen: What are you doing here? Lucas: Uh, I’m looking for Riley? Imogen: Yeah, no duh. I don’t know if your girlfriend told you, but this is a closed rehearsal. She can’t just invite friends along whenever she damn well pleases.

Okay, girl, this is college theater, not the Great White Way. Let’s calm down. Lucas doesn’t know how to respond, but he’s mercifully spared by Riley appearing at just the right time. She has no such reservations about him being there, greeting him joyfully but quietly purely out of respect for the actors rehearsing on stage at the moment.

Riley: I got it, thanks Imogen. Glad you made sure he didn’t get lost.

Sure, that’s what she was doing… Imogen rolls her eyes and backs off, leaving them alone. Riley gives Lucas a brisk kiss, claiming it’s so nice to see him.

Riley: It’s been a hectic morning. Dress rehearsal blues. And unlike when we were at Adams, I can’t just go climb up into the booth with you when I could use a break. Doesn’t it take you right back, being in the wings again? Don’t you miss it? Lucas: You want the truth?

Riley gives him a playful head tilt, nudging his arm. He informs her of the gifts he brought -- sustenance to keep her going -- and she is utterly grateful. How did he know this is exactly the pick-me-up she needed?

Lucas: [ with a shrug ] I was in the neighborhood. So.

Right. Just like always. EVAN SCOTT makes his exit from the stage and jogs into the wings, joining them and giving Lucas a friendly hello. It’s nice that he was able to sneak his way inside -- usually they’re pretty intense about closed rehearsals.

Lucas: Yeah, I got the memo. Riley: He was just playing the hero by bringing me lunch. [ holding up the bag ] If you thought Clucks was good, you ain’t seen nothing yet. I’ll have to share a bit of it with you during break so you can taste a real good lunch. Evan: Oh, you’re on. Be my guest.

Riley gets called onstage by the director, so that’s her cue. She gives Lucas another kiss on the cheek and tells him he can hang around as long as he likes. You know, so long as he doesn’t get caught.

Riley: But you’re good at keeping a low profile.

With that, she gives him a wink and then jogs towards the stage, joining back in on rehearsal. That leaves Evan and Lucas on their own, both hovering in the wings to watch as Riley gets into character and prepares to start working on a scene. After a beat, Evan takes the opportunity to chat, keeping their voices low as to not blow his cover.

Evan: She really is something else, you know. A real talent. And I don’t say that lightly. [ with a smile ] But I’m sure you know that already. Having gone to Adams for years with her. Lucas: I don’t know about that. [ off his eyebrow raise ] About knowing because of Adams. Obviously, Riley is… she’s, you know. All of that. I just wouldn’t say going there gave me any sense of how to tell the difference. Evan: … really? It’s a school for the arts. I have a hard time buying that you don’t have the chops if you went there for four years. Lucas: It’s a long story.

One that he is not getting into with a near stranger like Evan. Not that Evan is all that interested in the lore. He’s more focused on his lackluster response -- maybe he’s just shy, or doesn’t have a way with words, but Evan is somewhat put off by him. If Riley were his girlfriend, he thinks, he’d miss no opportunity to sing her praises to anyone who will listen.

On stage, Riley quickly glances to the wings and catches that they’re still standing there, and that he hasn’t left yet. She smiles lightly, blowing Lucas a secret kiss before turning back to the scene at hand. Playfully bending the rules just a bit, flaunting his closed rehearsal violation even if only the two of them know. 

Evan: Well, it’s nice that you’re still able to support her. She’s clearly glad you are. Lucas: Yeah. And I’m glad she’s got stuff like this. That other people recognize she’s good. It’s just… not my thing.

Anyone who knows the whole story, who knows Lucas, would get that. Get what he means. But Evan doesn’t, so to him, it just seems like aloof indifference. A diffidence towards the passions of someone he cares about -- someone he supposedly loves.

INT. LOCAL FOOD BANK - CAFETERIA - DAY

Meanwhile, different lunch business is happening over at the food bank. Volunteers of all shapes and sizes are working the hot lunch lines to dish out filling meals to those in need, hair nets and gloves on and conversation light as they chatter with the regulars and welcome new faces. The hall is already bustling with people, packed into the long tables and benches or taking their meals to go.

Eleanor and Charlie, however, aren’t working the front lines. They’re hanging out where Eleanor usually parks it during her volunteer hours, hanging back by the administrative side in a couple of decently comfortable lawn chairs. Immersed in the minutia of keeping the place running, surely, helping the volunteers and organizers, but an easy distance from the folks actually receiving the support.

This gap in connection doesn’t seem to even occur to Eleanor, who is happily in her element chatting with the higher-ups of the organization and helping iron out details from her polyester throne. No sense in messing up her well-kept hair with a net or making her old feet ache standing behind the food line…

Charlie is a different story. He’s seated like his mother, half-listening to their oh so important discussions, but his attention is consumed by the community around them. Taking in the scenery, watching the people come and go with curiosity and empathy. From the way he’s bouncing his leg, there’s a restless energy to being there -- like he’d much rather be on his feet doing something than standing there overseeing it all. Within the community, rather than outside it. But this is how his mom does it, and he’s supposed to be learning from and aiding her, so there he sits…

By happenstance, it doesn’t take long before something breaks the inertia and triggers him to act.

A single MOTHER is doing her best to keep control over her four young kids, having just gone through the lunch line and trying to find a table. But it’s crowded, and the pace to find space for all of them is slow-going, and trying to keep four hungry kids tame is like wrangling cats. So it’s far from surprising when something goes amiss, one of the younger girls failing to balance her loaded plate and keep up with her siblings.

It falls to the floor with a splat, causing the DAUGHTER to shriek and burst into tears. The mother, already overwhelmed, immediately hushes her and tries to keep her calm, but it’s difficult while keeping the others in check and not being in the way of others. They’ve already earned some irritated glares, and they’re in the way of the flow of traffic with the mess on the floor, and now they’re down a plate. The mom isn’t just frustrated, she’s embarrassed too, and already on short patience.

There isn’t much of a push to come to her aid, either -- the food line volunteers are all busy with their current patrons, and the administrators over in Eleanor’s corner don’t seem keen to rush over. They watch with sympathy, of course -- “poor thing” -- but someone else’s mess and unruly children aren’t their problem. The food they spilled is courtesy enough.

Except for Charlie. When he witnesses this unfortunate accident, he doesn’t hesitate. Before Eleanor can suggest otherwise, he’s out of his chair and crossing the cafeteria.

Eleanor: Charlie, wait --

He grabs some paper towels on the way and swoops down to help scoop up the mess, calmly assuring the girl and her mom that it’s okay.

The mother seems genuinely surprised he came over to help. Now that attention is on them, the other kids have gone quiet, watching Charlie interact with their mom.

Mother: I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Charlie: Please, it’s okay. Not a problem. It happens. Mother: I should’ve paid more attention to -- and you don’t have to clean that up. I’m sorry -- Charlie: Ma’am, I promise, it’s okay. No worries at all.

Well, if he says so… the little girl has stopped crying, too shy for tears. Charlie kindly turns his gaze to her, offering a light smile.

Charlie: You lost your balance a little there? Daughter: … yes. Charlie: I get it. I’ve definitely done the same before. I’m a dancer, but if I’m not doing choreography, I’m a total klutz. Daughter: I like dancing too. Charlie: You do? Nice. You’ve probably got better balance than me.

Tension broken somewhat, Charlie offers to help by making sure the daughter gets a fresh plate of food. The mother claims he’s already done enough, sheepish, but he insists. If she’d rather go with her, he’s more than happy to help her kids find a table and keep an eye on them.

They strike a compromise, Charlie agreeing to take the little girl for food while the mom finds a seat. He also tells her that they can swing by the toy drive table while they walk and see if they can pick something out for her and her siblings. The mother is genuinely relieved for a second to breathe, thanking Charlie profusely which he waves off with a shrug.

Charlie: Of course. We’re here to help.

And he’s a natural at it. At the same time, Eleanor’s corner of the room seems less certain -- some are endeared by Charlie’s involvement, while others (including Eleanor herself) seem slightly uncomfortable with the wall between their worlds being breached so casually.

Still, can count on the church lady crowd to find one silver lining.

Admin: He is so good with kids. Oh, you’re going to be such a lucky grandmother once he finds his wife!

Yeah, we’ll see about that. Dream on, though.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - DAY

Maya gets up from the kitchen table where she’s working on lyrics when there’s a knock at the door. She’s slightly stunned to find Isa waiting on the other side -- and they’re equally as unprepared to see her.

Maya: … hi. Isa: Hi. [ a beat ] Uh, I’m here to see Farkle?

Oh, right. Duh. Silly to think they could’ve been there for her… Maya nods, stepping back and allowing Isa into the apartment. There’s an awkward beat, neither of them quite sure how to act around one another.

Maya: He’s not here right now. In case that wasn’t obvious. I mean, he should be home soon. Probably. But you never know with him these days. Isa: Okay. Cool. Thanks. [ a beat ] Rehearsal, I’m guessing? Maya: If only. At least that commitment is predictable and consistent. [ with a sigh ] No, he’s probably with --

Jordan. Yeah. She doesn’t even have to finish the sentence. Isa understands. Definitely not what you want to hear when you came all the way over here.

Isa: Oh. Yeah, okay. Maya: Sorry. You can text him. Isa: Guess I will. Thanks.

Isa pauses, thinking they should go… but then they release a huff, crossing their arms.

Isa: Sorry, but am I a bitch for thinking he could’ve at least texted me? I get changing plans -- I mean, actually I don’t if it’s for your lame significant other, but -- Maya: Oh, babe, do not even get me started. I’m on your side. If you’re going to ghost someone, it should at least be for good reason. Not for hanging around with… with… Isa: The human equivalent of a watered-down Americano.

Maya cracks up, nodding along. Yes, that’s exactly it! Isa can’t help but grin as Maya commiserates, the two of them releasing their pent up disdain for Jordan while Farkle isn’t around. For an instant, it’s almost like they’re back to normal, rapport easy and bouncing off another with natural fervor.

But shared resentment can’t rebuild a bridge on its own. And they’re disrupted anyway when Isa gets a text, dimming their back and forth and letting the awkwardness back in. Isa clears their throat.

Isa: It’s Farkle. He got caught up, so he’s gonna meet me at the restaurant. Maya: Oh. Good. Isa: Yeah… better than nothing, I guess.

Maya does her best to hide her disappointment. With that, suppose Isa better go… or whatever… they start to head for the door, but before they can step out, Maya pipes up.

Maya: Izzy. Isa. I’m sorry about what’s going with the media. They don’t know shit.

Isa is surprised Maya is keeping up with it. That they even seem to care. Not that they ever gave an impression otherwise… suppose it wasn’t Maya who burned them down. Even if her actions made it feel warranted.

It’s strange, to know someone still cares -- to still care yourself -- but not have any idea what to do with it. To have no clue what happens next. For now, Isa nods.

Isa: Thanks. [ a beat ] See you.

Maya lets them go, not asking for more. Placating herself with the knowledge that she said her piece.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - HALLWAY - DAY

Isa closes the door behind them, hanging on the doorstep for a moment longer. Part of them wanting to go back and try to make sense of this, iron the whole thing out… but ultimately going on their way, leaving the door closed.

But the confusion follows, not letting itself be forgotten so easily. As the echoey backing track eases in…

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Tell Me How” as performed by Paramore || Performed by Isa De La Cruz & Maya Hart

Maya takes the first verse of this melancholic ballad, contemplative. She moves towards the window to look down on the street, spotting Isa as they emerge from the building.

I know you think that I erased you You may hate me, but I can't hate you

And she can’t replace them. No matter how easy Isa might think it is for her to do.

Do I suffocate or let go?

EXT. LOS ANGELES STREETS - DAY

Isa is asking the same question, picking up the second verse as they make their way down the sidewalk. 

Think I'm tired of getting over it And just starting something new again I'm getting sick of the beginnings

If they’re honest, in their heart, they miss her. They miss that sense of camaraderie, one boss bitch to another. They miss challenging each other, collaborating, picking on Farkle together. But how good could that have all been if it was so easy for Maya to toss aside?

Even so, the ache of that has lessened in the time since. It hurt, and still does, but Maya explained her side. She made her case. It was a mistake, a thoughtless wound. Isa can buy that -- Maya has never been the queen of consideration -- and the resentment that used to burn in their chest has long since simmered.

But they can’t just go back to before. The question is, if they’re not friends, but they're not angry anymore, then what are they? What’s left?

Why can’t someone just tell them how to be?

The two continue to pass vocals back and forth on the chorus, parlaying into the piano interlude. On the bridge, they not only harmonize but also echo one another, circling each other musically but never quite syncing up. Never getting onto the same page.

That is, until they join together on the “oh” just before the 3-minute mark. Then they sing together through the final rendition of the chorus, sharing a split-screen, before begging the universe for the same sign as to how to move forward. The same plea asked in the midst of many a friendship break-up -- the prayer that never has a straightforward answer.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - DAY

Maya takes the last outro lines, choosing to believe there’s a positive version of them somewhere safe in the fog of Isa’s memory.

EXT. LOS ANGELES STREETS - DAY

And it’s those memories that make it so hard to let go. Isa turns away and continues their walk alone down the block, stuffing their hands in their pocket as the song peters out.

INT. NYU - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

Vanessa and Nigel are taking a lunch break, seated on the studio floor. It seems they’ve already done a decent amount of foundational work, given Nigel’s sweat. Vanessa is optimistic though -- she doesn’t see him as a hopeless case. He’ll be able to pass, with a bit more practice.

Vanessa: At this rate, who knows? You may even be able to snag a B. Nigel: Passing is all I care about right now. I should’ve taken this pass/fail, but I was so zoned out during course selection I neglected to consider the possibility that my professor for intro to dance would be off his rocker.

Vanessa snorts. Speaking of insane dance, Nigel politely asks how Vanessa’s audition prep is going for the Turner transfer. He knows Zay has been pretty wrapped up in it, so she must be the same.

Vanessa: Is he really? Wasn’t sure I would’ve guessed that, considering he’s flitting off to other auditions left and right. Nigel: Yeah. Haven’t you guys talked about it?

No, Nigel. They’re not doing that right now. Like totally normal couples. Vanessa avoids answering the question, not wanting to get into it and answering with a shrug instead. Nigel doesn’t mind, addressing her original point.

Nigel: Anyway, I wouldn’t read too much into Zay’s choices. He’s always doing weird stuff like that. What you’ll come to realize after being friends with him for long enough is that he will always, always be doing more than you. Working harder. Probably better. Vanessa: I disagree on principle, but… Nigel: I don’t mean that in a mean way. Or even bitterly. It’s just fact. It used to bother me, when we were younger, but after a certain point it just became part of the deal. Like, okay, Zay is Zay. He’s a badass, and he has no mode other than 100, and he will always be two steps ahead. I had to decide if I could handle that, if I could turn off the constant comparison in my head and just take him as he is. I did, and I’m glad I did, but he’ll always have his quirks.

That last part, she’d already figured out on her own. Vanessa thinks for a moment, debating whether she wants to say anything…

Vanessa: It just doesn’t make sense to me. Going on these auditions when we have the biggest one of our year right around the corner. It’s not like he’s going to be able to do both. He has to know that. Nigel: Oh, for sure. He probably just thinks of it as like, I don’t know. Practice. Vanessa: I can’t fathom splitting my attention like that. If this is my one shot to get what I want, like… why would I ever risk throwing my eggs into different baskets? Especially ones I would never actually do? Nigel: I mean, maybe he would? Consider them, I mean. Zay has this endearing but infuriating quality where he goes for things just for the hell of it, like “practice” or whatever, or just to prove he can do it. And then, naturally, he ends up getting the offers. I’m not saying he does it intentionally -- I genuinely think that for all his attitude and confidence, he doesn’t realize how good he is. Like, how far his charisma and grind culture takes him. He wouldn’t admit it, but I think he surprises even himself half the time. Vanessa: Then why is he trying to get into Turner? If he has all these other options? [ frustrated ] Unlike him, some of us don’t have endless paths laid out in front of us. Nigel: Hey, like I said. I get the frustration. Being his friend is a blessing and a curse. And I’m not gonna act like I can make sense of his diva mind. [ after a beat ] I just feel like sometimes, Zay… so the big thing about him is that he’s stubborn. Like, he is the most obstinate person I’ve ever met -- and I went to Adams with a lot of divas. He’s not as flamboyant as some of our other classmates, but Jesus, when he puts his mind to something he is relentless. When he gets an idea in his head of how something is supposed to be, how he thinks he wants it, it’s damn near impossible to get him to change his mind. Vanessa: Cute. Nigel: Somehow, he still is. Yes. But sometimes I think it hurts him more than it helps him. ‘Cause like… [ searching for the words ] He’ll get this idea in his head that one way is the way things have to be. The path he’s meant to take, the reasonable thing to do. Maybe in this case that’s Turner; maybe it’s taking every single audition possible even if he’s never gonna go for it. But he internalizes this idea of how he’s supposed to do it, to have his best shot, and then he traps himself in that mindset. Even if he knows it’s not working, or isn’t making him happy. Honestly, watching him last year felt like that, the way he ground himself down until he literally hurt himself so bad it was the only way to slow him down. He’s brilliant, but like all greats, he’s kind of his own worst enemy at the same time. [ with a shrug ] I don’t know if that helps at all, make sense of your freak boyfriend, but that’s just my take after knowing him for five years.

It actually does help, at least a little. Vanessa and Zay may be similar in some ways, but there’s enough difference between them to create mystery that feels infuriating. It’s nice to have the perspective of someone who’s known him for longer, who can provide larger context to the character that is Zay Babineaux. 

Especially since she’s not talking to him herself. After absorbing that intel, Vanessa suggests they get back to work, climbing to her feet and offering her hands to help Nigel back up.

INT. LOCAL FOOD BANK - CAFETERIA - DAY

Charlie has put himself to use now, still hanging out with that woman’s kids and helping keep them entertained. It appears that in the time he’s been there, he’s totally won over the youngest of the bunch, both of them eagerly talking to him and showing off the toys they picked out from the giveaway. Charlie engages with them effortlessly, encouraging their chatter and listening with an easy smile on his face. Completely in his element.

Eleanor is watching from her safe distance, not sure how she feels about having lost him to the sea of less fortunate. She’s even more apprehensive when the woman he helped actually approaches her, timidly asking if she knows Charlie.

Eleanor: Oh, um, yes. He’s my son. Woman: I thought so. You look alike. [ shy, but sincere ] He’s wonderful with kids. He’s been a huge help today. Eleanor: That’s good. I’m glad we could help. Woman: It’s the most help I’ve gotten here in a while. You must be very proud.

Yes… yes, she should. Eleanor nods, accepting the compliment, but she still appears quite uncomfortable with actually interacting with one of the people needy enough to seek their oh so generous charity.

INT. USC - THEATER - DAY

A pick-up rehearsal for The Last Five Years is wrapping up, the director IRENE KAPLAN talking them through some brief notes.

Farkle is hardly paying attention. He’s continuously distracted by his phone, currently in the midst of a rapid fire exchange with Jordan. But it’s not the kind of rapport he wants -- Jordan has hinted he may need to change his plans with their little dinner he planned, and Farkle is doing everything he can to convince him not to cancel. He’s practically begging in text format, whereas Jordan’s responses seem noncommittal and unbothered.

How can he seem so unconcerned, when Farkle feels like he’s holding his world together with a safety pin? When this feels like the end of the world?

Irene doesn’t miss his lack of engagement. Once she finishes notes and dismisses everyone, commending them for a great first handful of shows, she specifically requests that Farkle hang back to chat. He does so, managing to put his phone away for that long even though the thought of missing his chance to win Jordan over makes him itch.

Although she’s not unkind, Irene doesn’t beat around the bush. She points out that Farkle has seemed distracted as of late, and he’s been late to more than one call time in the last week. He’s a freshman, so she’s not expecting him to be the pinnacle of professionalism, but there comes a point where she needs to draw attention to it.

Farkle is genuinely regretful, launching into apologies and promising he’ll be better about it. In fact, despite the reassurance, his hasty groveling is almost too strong a reaction for the critiques she was giving him. It makes her more concerned than before -- enough to ask if there’s anything going on that he’d like to tell her about.

Farkle blinks.

Farkle: No? Irene: I’m just checking. I want you to know if there’s something going on, you should feel more than comfortable telling me. Both from a production standpoint, but also because I want you to feel supported. If there’s anything I can do to help with that, please let me know.

It’s a sweet sentiment -- one you like to see from a director and professor -- but Farkle just seems confused. He isn’t sure why Irene feels the need to say something like this. It’s not like he’s pulling his hair out again or contemplating popping some pills.

Farkle: Believe me, ma’am, I’ve been in much deeper trenches.

That’s not the cheerful reassurance you think it is, Farkle. Irene raises an eyebrow, but she figures it’s not worth digging deeper if he doesn’t want to talk. She just reiterates her support and reminds him of the call time for that weekend’s show, then lets him go.

He immediately pulls back out his phone as he descends the steps of the stage, awash in relief when he sees Jordan hasn’t cancelled. They’re still on.

He hasn’t totally lost him yet. That’s all that matters.

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - GUEST ROOM - DAY

Isa waits impatiently for a reply from Eric. They messaged him asking if he was free to talk, but they know he might not get the chance until later in the evening -- that is, if AAA was nearly half as dramatic as it was when they were there. 

Instead of a text, Isa’s phone lights up with a call, a picture of Eric and Isa smiling together filling the screen. Relieved, Isa picks up immediately.

After the obligatory greetings, they get into the true reason why they’re calling.

Eric: How are you dealing with the press? Do they know who tipped them off? Do we need to get lawyers involved? I think I still have the number of a lawyer Val recommended if anything like this happened -- Isa: Whoa, okay, slow down. One question at a time.  Eric: Right. Sorry. How are you? 

Isa takes a deep breath. What a question to start with.

Isa: I’m… okay. I guess. A bit stressed. And… Eric: [ off their hesitation ] And…? Isa: I feel like I’ve ruined everything with the MacNamaras. 

It all comes tumbling out. How anxious everyone has been since the paparazzi incident, how upset Milo got, how much Louis and Sydney seem to hate them. It just feels like everything is going wrong, and it’s bound to crash and burn at any moment. They knew it was going too well; something like this was bound to happen. 

Eric: This isn’t your fault, Isa. You’ve done nothing wrong. You shouldn’t be feeling guilt or taking all of the blame.  Isa: I know, I know. Ruby and Zachary don’t seem to blame me, but I can’t help but feel like I’ve blown up their lives. Everything was fine before I showed up. [ with a sigh ] I should probably talk to Ruby about all of this, right?

Eric supports this notion. Communication is always the best solution, and it seems like Isa has had luck connecting with Ruby before. It’s like they don’t even need his training wheels of emotional support anymore! Isa rolls their eyes, but they smile just a bit.

Eric: I have to confess, this is an odd situation for me. I’d love to be able to help you through it, but because I’m removed from it all, not there with you, there’s not much I can do. I can’t do anything other than listen. But it seems like you’ve thought through what to do next, and I have nothing but confidence that you’ll figure out the best solution.  Isa: Thanks.  Eric: I’m always one message or call away. Don’t hesitate. And let me know how it goes with Ruby. 

Eric’s faith in them gives Isa a boost of confidence.

INT. MACNAMARA HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY

Ruby is set up at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, with a laptop and various pieces of paper spread out on the surface in front of her. She’s currently on the phone, brows furrowed deeply and lips pressed together in concern. On the open laptop screen is an email from the church, saying how concerned they are over the situation and asking the family to refrain from attending service until it all dies down -- for the security and privacy of other members. It’s a known hot spot for Christian celebrities, after all, and they’ve been fortunate to avoid such attention from the press until now. 

On the phone, things seem to be going about just as well. 

Ruby, frustrated: Why is it my responsibility to get rid of paparazzi on your property? We chose this school because you promised privacy for the boys, so why am I getting the blame when you’re unable to provide that? 

As the person on the other end talks, Ruby only gets more worked up. 

Ruby: Isn’t it your duty to deal with situations like this within the school? Louis said that his classmates are pestering him with questions all day about it, so it’s not just the press, but their peers, too --

She gets cut off. After listening to what the other person has to say, Ruby insists that she and Zachary are talking to lawyers and trying to get on top of the issue, but that she would appreciate it if her children could attend school as usual and not have another part of their lives disrupted. In response, she gets asked if she would mind waiting on hold while they get another member of staff.

Ruby huffs, irritated but holding herself back from expressing exactly what she thinks.

Ruby: Yes, I’ll wait. Thank you. [ once the hold music starts ] God help us now…

INT. MACNAMARA HOUSE - DAY

Isa comes down the stairs and wanders around downstairs, searching for any sign of life. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around, so it’s a relief when they stumble across Ruby in the kitchen. 

INT. MACNAMARA HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY

From the angle that Isa’s at, they can’t see that Ruby is on the phone, only that she has her laptop and seems to be deep in thought. They approach quietly, trying their best to remain as confident as they were moments ago. 

Isa: Ruby, could we talk a bit about -- ? Ruby, snapping: [ turning in her seat and pointing to the phone ] Can you not see I’m busy?

Oop. Yikes. Both of them blink at each other, stunned silent. Isa at the harsh response, and Ruby at the realization of who she just snapped at.

Her expression immediately softens as she rushes out an apology, but just then her phone call picks back up, so she has to turn her attention back to that. Ruby mouths another sorry to Isa, but clearly isn’t available to talk. 

Still shocked, Isa numbly turns and leaves the room. So much for not having earned Ruby’s ire as well.

As the thumping, hypnotic bass floats in…

INT. VIDEO SHOOT STUDIO - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ Maya’s Original Song, “Haute Stuff” || Similar to “Blow Your Mind (Mwah)” as performed by Dua Lipa || Performed by Maya Hart

We finally get a fuller picture of the track Maya has been working on with Justin and Melissa, watching as she films parts of the music video for the song. The number is captured from different angles as the shoot progresses, both from the perspective of Maya running through it and the cameras capturing it that’ll make it to the editing room someday soon. It’s sassy, catchy, bombastic and clever, a perfect compliment to “On My Grind (O.M.G.),” and Maya delivers it expertly. It’s perfectly in her wheelhouse, and she never fails to slay.

But it doesn’t sound quite right. It’s a bop, no doubt, but it doesn’t sound like her. The lines are clever, but they lack her signature style; she looks incredible, but her movements are just a hair more stiff, more of an act than a reflection of her actual flair. It’s strength, being like her breakout hit, may also be its biggest weakness -- you could argue it’s pretty derivative of everything else she’s done so far.

At the conclusion of one of the choruses, she looks towards the camera and blows us a kiss, then offers a cheeky little wink.

Then the director calls cut, halting the pop cocktail as they reset for another angle. Maya takes the opportunity to scan the set until she finds who she’s looking for, jogging over to Justin. For any reservations she might have, he appears to have none -- he’s more than enjoying her performance, thrilled with how its turning out.

Justin: This is number one material. Don’t you feel that? This one is gonna drop majorly -- especially on Tik Tok.  Maya: Right, sure. It’s a fun track. [ a beat ] I’m just wondering if it’s not a bit… repetitive? Like, the video isn’t all that different from --

Justin humors her concern, but he brushes it off pretty easily. He doesn’t see why she’s stressing -- they’re standing on a gold mine right now.

Justin: Girlie, you sound incredible. You hit all the right moves here. Not to mention, you look absolutely banging.

For better or worse, that is a big criteria in success in most cases. Justin makes a point of adjusting her appearance as he says so, tweaking the hem of her mini-skirt and fluffing her money-making blonde hair. Maya doesn’t think anything of it, used to the nitpicks of a production. She still isn’t convinced about the song, but Justin encourages her to drop it and just roll with it.

Justin: Hey, just get through the shoot, and then bam, this project will be basically ready to go. We’ll have a banger on our hands, locked and loaded, and then we can start to focus on other stuff. Melissa set that dinner for us to chat about the EP, yeah? Shift your focus to that. Maya: [ brightening at that ] Right. Totally. Have you had the chance to listen to the demos I -- ?

They’re interrupted when the A.D. calls for Maya to get back in places. Justin gives her a wink, reminding her to knock ‘em dead and make them proud. Maya smiles, accepting his guidance and reenergized with the potential of what’s around the corner.

Justin gives her a proud pat on the head and then sends her on her way back in front of the cameras.

INT. TURNER ACADEMY - HALLWAY - DAY

Zay is on the phone with Yindra, hyping her up before her girl group audition blitz. He has no doubt that she can pull it off, and they’re insane if they don’t consider her good enough -- though whether she wants to take the offer will be another story.

Zay: Look, just think of it like Adams. Go in there, smoke those other bitches out of the water, and take no fucking prisoners. Yindra: There were like seven mixed metaphors in that pep talk, but I get what you’re going for. Zay: Save your smartass for the competition. But you’ve got this. Just show them real Yindra Amino. That’s all it takes.

Yindra thanks him, stating she’ll give it the best she’s got. Zay is about to say something else, but a sound from the end of the hall catches his attention. Someone is playing piano in the practice room, singing along lightly as they try to sound out a phrase…

And it sounds weirdly familiar. Confusingly, hauntingly familiar. Zay frowns.

Zay: Hey, I gotta go. Call me after the insanity.

He hangs up without further comment, following the mysterious siren song towards the end of the hall. As he approaches the practice studio in the corner, the voice becomes clearer -- and oddly enough, more familiar to us, too.

Apprehensive, Zay edges towards the doorway.

INT. TURNER ACADEMY - PRACTICE ROOM - DAY

No, his mind isn’t playing tricks on him. His well-trained ears aren’t deceiving him. Charlie is at Turner, in this practice studio. He’s seated at the piano as if it’s completely ordinary, sheet music in front of him. He doesn’t appear to be focused on it, though, half-improving through piano riffs instead to loosen up. He’s lightly singing along here and there, more like humming occasionally, warming up his voice.

Zay stares for a long moment, transfixed… because it’s so unexpected, obviously. Once he shakes off the surprise, he braves stepping into the room, announcing his presence.

Zay: You know, I could be mistaken --

Charlie jumps slightly, not expecting company. But when he lifts his head and sees who it is, the smile that blooms across his face is instantaneous.

Zay: So correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m like… ninety-nine point nine-nine-nine-nine percent sure you don’t go to this school. Unless you transferred out of nowhere without telling me, which 1) would be fucking rude, and 2) would be a miracle considering the hell I’m going through to transfer. Or, you’re not actually here and I’m having a serious hallucination right now, in which case I should call my doctor to confirm I’m not certified crazy.

Charlie laughs, shaking his head.

Charlie: No, no, you’re right. Not a student here, and not a hallucination, far as I’m aware. So you’re not crazy -- well, not because of that, at least. Zay, mocking: Oh, ha ha ha ha. So funny.

Charlie grins, enjoying the chance to rib him. It’s not usually so easy. Zay has made it across the room now, joining him and standing on the opposite side of the piano. Now that they’ve confirmed he’s really there, it does beg the question: why exactly is he there?

Charlie: I’ve got my college auditions this week, so I’m polishing up the pieces I want to do. I’d been practicing at home before, but suffice to say doing actual focused, quiet rehearsal in that house is like… basically impossible -- Zay: Given your seven-hundred siblings, yeah, that tracks. Charlie: So I was looking for a more dedicated space to practice. Lucky me, I happened to run into Nigel and Vanessa when they were out, and it came up, and Vanessa was nice enough to offer to book me a space here. So I happily took it.

Zay doesn’t know where to begin with that statement. Nigel and Vanessa are hanging out? Vanessa and Charlie are talking when he’s not there? God, you stop talking to your girlfriend for one week… Zay lightly shakes his head, trying to mentally catch up.

Zay: Oh. You know you could’ve asked me? I would’ve done it too. Charlie: Yeah, of course. But you know, you’re so busy, you’ve got your own stuff going on. I wouldn’t want to bother you. And honestly, I don’t think I even would’ve thought of the idea if Vanessa didn’t offer it. I owe her big time.

Even though it shouldn’t be so strange to Zay, considering how he’s worked hard to interweave Vanessa into his social circles, the concept of her and Charlie interacting so casually is just something his brain can’t seem to comprehend. So he moves past it, asking instead how Charlie’s actual practice is going. What’s he doing for his auditions?

Charlie doesn’t hesitate to discuss it, absentmindedly continuing to lightly play the piano while they chat.

Charlie: Well, it’s not as intense as most musical auditions, since I’m not like, trying to get into the performing programs, so I have a little more flexibility. Don’t need to do traditional Broadway or anything, but I still want to do something where I’m my own accompaniment so I can show different parts of my skill set. Hence, the piano, though I haven’t ruled out guitar yet either. I’ve kind of got a couple of songs on deck, so I can kind of feel it out day of and see what feels right. Zay: Wow. So devil-may-care of you. Not very Gardner-esque. Charlie: Yeah, well, like I said. These stakes are pretty nonexistent.

Still, he wants to make a good impression. Zay glances down at his hands, which are still instinctively playing the keys, pointing out that his ability to play more than one instrument is probably already more impressive than most of the music minors they get auditioning at this level. Though, in his opinion, he still thinks Charlie could easily go for a major if he wanted.

Charlie: Thanks. But this’ll do for now. I’m not asking for too much. Zay: Yeah, and that’s why I’m saying you don’t need to give too much either. [ nodding to the keys ] I mean, you’re basically playing with your eyes closed. If you insist on showing off like that, surely they won’t be able to say no. Charlie: What? Showing off? [ playing a more complicated riff ] Whatever do you mean? Zay: Okay, nerd, not all of us are virtuosos. Let’s not get smug. Charlie: I don’t -- [ not breaking eye contact ] I don’t know what you mean? [ with a shrug; playing an even more complex bit ] I’m just playing around -- Zay: All right, all right, that’s enough, Chopin. We get it, you play the piano. Columbia should be falling to their knees begging you to join up.

Charlie breaks into a beam, then dips his head back down to the keys. Zay can’t help but smile, but he reels it in quickly enough to maintain his faux disdain.

Charlie: Anyway, like I said, it’s not that serious, but I still want to do something good. Something that like… you know, feels representative but still like me, without getting all in my head about it. Zay: That’s good. I’d say going for it at all is an improvement. Charlie: I’d say gee thanks, but I know you’re right. That’s kind of the point. ‘Cause I’m trying this new thing where I don’t automatically discount myself or take myself out of the running for things I have interest in just because I don’t think I’m good enough.

Zay gasps, offering a smattering of applause. Charlie bows his head slightly, accepting the teasing praise.

Zay: Wow. That’s incredible. That’s like, groundbreaking stuff right there. Charlie: Thank you, thank you. Zay: That’s so crazy. It’s almost as if someone has been suggesting that for a while. Giving the best advice and shit. Like they’ve always known. You know, someone really smart, and cool, and sexy -- Charlie: [ with a roll of his eyes ] You about done? Zay: Never.

Charlie’s turn to not be able to hold back a smile. But it’s true, Zay’s been saying all that since the start! Even so, Charlie had to get there on his own for it to mean anything.

And now he has, so it’ll be interesting to see where he decides to go with it. Zay asks as much, nodding to the sheet music and asking what he’s working on for the audition beyond cheeky show-off piano riffs. Charlie claims this the more pop-adjacent tunes he’s polishing, adjusting the papers on the piano.

Charlie: It might be a bit too contemporary for the auditions, but I like the song, so I figured I’d hash it out anyway and decide later. I’m still figuring out some of the key changes, but -- well, actually, would you mind listening to it and telling me what you think? I’d love your opinion. But you know, only if you have time. I don’t wanna impose.

Considering he’s torn between drilling his own transfer audition into dust and running off to do some ill-advised shotgun callbacks for productions he’d never actually get to do, and thus moving on neither of them, yeah, Zay has a second or two to spare. Plus Charlie’s a friend looking for feedback, and Zay rarely passes up a chance to offer his opinion on the craft.

Not to mention, it’s been ages since he heard Charlie perform. Perform like this, unpolished and intimate, rather than at his shining best for his church. Passing up the invitation almost feels blasphemous.

So he shrugs, noncommittal.

Zay: I’ve got a few minutes.

Charlie smiles, grateful. He clears his throat and adjusts the sheet music once more, reminding Zay that he’s still refining and admittedly, he’s a bit rusty. Zay waves off his commentary and tells him not to preface. Let the performance speak for itself.

After a beat, Charlie nods, looking back down at the keys. He takes a breath, centering himself.

Then, he starts to play.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Dream No More (Acoustic)” as performed by Ruel & Genesis Owusu || Performed by Charlie Gardner & Zay Babineaux (starting at 00:30)

Charlie’s fingers are delicate on the piano, soft to start as he gets a feel for performing again. It’s different to practice on your own versus with an audience of one -- let alone when that audience is Zay Babineaux. He values his opinion, but he hasn’t stopped being an intimidating presence since they were freshmen at Adams, so the stakes almost feel higher here than they will at the colleges later in the week. So he keeps his head down and his eyes on the music.

He shouldn’t have worried. Zay isn’t going to criticize him. It’s disarming enough just to hear him sing again; to be close enough and trusted enough to be allowed to hear it. It’s kind of mesmerizing, Charlie’s unassuming baritone warm and familiar.

It’s magnetic, in its way, pulling Zay in his direction. He slowly makes his way around the piano and comes to join Charlie on the other side, gingerly settling onto the bench next to him. He watches Charlie for a moment, gliding through the first chorus, hands skillfully dancing along the keys… then his gaze drifts to the sheet music.

Zay drops his reservations and starts to sing.

Said I stripped your love from a mile away Your emotion slides from the palace stays Your defense is gone

Zay picks up the second verse, finding his footing with a bit of improv. Charlie has no complaints about the intrusion. He glances at him out of the corner of his eye, smiling creeping onto his face, and then finds the harmony to jump back in with him.

You shoot your shot love I shot my shot love But we both ended some bullet wounds

Like magnets clicking into place, the duet dissipates any lingering uncertainty. It breathes new life into Charlie’s approach, and Zay brings an undeniable energy. Charlie’s piano playing is especially commanding when he’s supporting Zay’s lyrical game. Playfully harmonizing puts them back in their element, and the collaboration is near effortless.

It’s been too long, and the vocal pas de deux feels light and easy -- it feels right.

They carry the harmonies through to the end, earning a few impressive vocal runs out of Charlie thanks to the comfortable nature of the rendition. But Zay drops off to let him have the final lines, granting him the moment to shine -- and maybe a bit too distracted by getting to experience it to keep up.

Charlie finishes with an acoustic flourish, traipsing through a few notes on the piano to round out the performance. When he hits the last chord, he holds it for a moment, then lifts his eyes to look at Zay.

Who is already looking at him. Caught in the static aftermath, the buzz of magnetism humming between them. Inches apart on the piano bench, elbows brushing, closer than they’ve been in what feels like forever.

Charlie smiles, gentle and instinctive. After a beat, Zay returns it.

Once the quiet hovers a bit too long, and the air starts to feel a bit too thin, Zay clears his throat. He makes the wise choice to seek out some distance again, getting to his feet and heading back around the piano.

Zay: Well. I think if you do something like that for Columbia, you’ll have no problems. [ a beat ] Not that the piano improv doesn’t do that for you already.

And not that he had doubts to begin with. But doesn’t sound like he has any additional criticism at this time. Charlie appreciates his help regardless, reminding him that he can totally ask for his help on any of his audition stuff too. Friendship is a two-way street, after all.

Charlie: Not that I think I have anything to teach you, but principle of the thing.

That’s a nice offer, albeit self-deprecating, but Zay’s feeling dizzy enough from this little tutor reunion. He claims he should get back to said audition rehearsal, so he won’t take up any more of Charlie’s precious siphoned studio time.

Before Zay can fully escape, Charlie calls after him.

Charlie: Zay?

Zay pauses in the doorway, looking over his shoulder at him. He raises his eyebrows.

Charlie: Thanks.

He’s gonna need a little more than that. Zay turns around to face him again and offers a playful head tilt, crossing his arms. With the space between them, he’s regained the ability to be cheeky.

Zay: For what?

It could be as easy as “for listening” or “for taking the time,” but it’s not that simple. It rarely is with them. Charlie seriously contemplates the teasing question, searching for what it is he wants to say.

Finally, he lands on it, with a light shrug.

Charlie: For always knowing.

That he could do it if he tried. That he had it in him -- anything, everything -- before Charlie even knew it himself. For knowing him.

It’s enough to knock down Zay’s defenses even with the distance. His smirk softens to a tender smile. He gives him a nod, then steps out before he can say anything else.

Charlie watches him go, expression bittersweet. Then he focuses back on the piano, releasing a sigh and playing a few stray notes.

INT. MUSEUM - DAY

Jordan and Farkle are on another date, this time exploring a trendy, exclusive new art museum exhibit that hasn’t opened to the public yet. Jordan is taking a handful of photos as he goes, having negotiated a deal to post about it on his social media to drum up excitement as well as help promote his photography. Coincidentally, he never asks Farkle if he wants to be in a shot.

Farkle hardly notices. He’s too in his own head, thinking about how to maximize this time he’s managed to get with his boyfriend and not willing to screw it up by complaining.

And, this time, he has an entirely different distraction. His phone buzzes with a text, pulling up his thread with Isa when he opens it. Aside from a brief exchange from earlier in the week apologizing for messing up the times for their hangout, Isa has revitalized the conversation with a block of text of their own.

“Hey so sorry to bother you with this because I know you’re super busy and everything -- our track record for hanging out STILL demonstrates that clearly enough -- but I don’t really know who else to talk to. I thought things were going well with Zachary and all that but naturally, the Val of it all has managed to blow up in unexpected ways (because how could she not) and now I have no idea whether I’m guaranteed for a shipwreck. I know you don’t really have advice here or can say anything new that you haven’t told me a thousand times before, but I guess I just needed a space to vent”

“And also if this goes to shit, might need a place to shelter for a few days… lmao”

Farkle frowns. He felt bad already about having messed up their hang -- knowing things are getting shaky doesn’t help. Jordan notices Farkle has lost interest in following him and doubles back to ask what’s up, clocking the expression on his face.

Farkle: Nothing. Just uh -- Isa’s having some problems.

Story of their life. This topic already seems boring to Jordan, but he humors it anyway. Nothing more entertaining than hearing the woes of people you don’t care for, after all…

Jordan: What’s going on? Farkle: I don’t think I should talk about it. It’s their business. Jordan: Minkus, come on. We’re boyfriends. You know you can talk to me about what’s going on in your life. With your people. I’m always here to listen.

When it interests him, at least. After a beat of hesitation, Farkle caves, liking the idea of his words… he gives him the brief synopsis of Isa’s situation, mainly sticking to the facts about visiting L.A. and trying to build a relationship with their biological father.

Farkle: It’s not necessarily new territory for them, but they’ve never had good luck with this stuff. It’s like a neverending Greek tragedy or something, with all the family drama. But they want this to be different. I know they really want this to work out. Jordan: With a mom like Valerie De La Cruz, I can only imagine. Farkle: So if it isn’t going as planned… it just sucks. I wish there was more I could do to help.

Jordan gives Farkle a gentle pat on the shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. This… this is the good stuff. Farkle returns his light smile, grateful.

Jordan: You don’t owe them anything. It’s nice you wanna fix it for them, but that’s not your job. Farkle: No, I know. I know. I just -- I don’t know. I figure I’ll at least offer our couch to crash on if things go south. Maya might be a bit weird about it, but she knows the whole saga too, so she’d probably understand. Diva egos, I can manage…

At this idea, Jordan withdraws a bit. He retracts his hand and stuffs them in his pockets, putting a little more distance between them.

Jordan: I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. Farkle: What? Why not? Jordan: I mean, by all means, do what you want. Like I said, it’s sweet. How you want to help. [ a beat ] But I just feel like you’re giving way more here than you’re getting. Wasn’t this the same friend who ignored you like all of first semester? And now they’re going to live off your couch rent-free? Farkle: That’s not how I’d put it. This is an if, then situation. And the stuff from earlier -- it’s complicated. Like I’ve told you, with Maya, it’s just all a bit -- Jordan: I know what you’ve told me. I’m just telling you how I, an objective observer, see it. To me, it just seems like De La Cruz sees you more as a convenient back-up plan when they need it, rather than a priority. Which isn’t a problem, if you’re happy with it being that way.

Wouldn’t you know, Jordan… Farkle frowns, not convinced. Usually, he’s not as hesitant to buy Jordan’s dribs, but something about this really rubs him the wrong way.

Farkle: Sorry, but I don’t think you’ve got this right here. Yeah, Isa mentioned the housing thing here, but it was more self-deprecating than anything else. This is coming from someone who knows how it feels to bounce around place to place. That’s just the way they talk. Jordan: Right. Sure. Farkle: They aren’t expecting anything from me. If I didn’t answer, I don’t think they’d bat an eye honestly. Especially because they know how they treated me last semester -- they’re more self-aware than I’ve probably made them sound. This is like, the least I could do. Jordan: Okay, and I’m just telling you I disagree. Farkle, baffled: I don’t get why you care so much? Wouldn’t you do the same for your friends? Jordan: Yes, if I considered them truly a friend. If they’d proven their loyalty. So far, can’t say that’s what I’ve seen here. The way Isa treats you -- [ with an aloof shrug ] I’d just rather you not be inviting them into your house. I don’t like it. Farkle: Well, it’s not really your choice. Jordan, affronted: Wow. So you just don’t give a shit that your boyfriend is telling you having someone over at your place makes them uncomfortable? That means nothing to you? Farkle: What? Jordan: Cool. Good to know. [ a beat ] I’m just saying, if I were the one who wanted to have like, Malcolm come stay at my place, I don’t think you’d like that very much either.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. When did this become about anything other than Isa’s family drama? Farkle is totally lost. Deep down, he ends up feeling this way a lot these days -- like conversations with Jordan are a chess game he’s never quite aware he’s playing until he’s been checked.

But right now, all he can sense is that Jordan is not happy -- and he’s walking away from him. He’s moved on and gave him the cold shoulder, continuing to move through the exhibit. Compulsively, Farkle jogs to keep up, promising Jordan that he’ll consider what he said. He doesn’t want him to feel bad about any of it. He’ll hold off, at least until he talks things through with Maya anyway.

It’s not a guaranteed dismissal, but for now, Jordan accepts it. He gives Farkle a smile, and a peck on the cheek, before going back to photographing the exhibit. Like the argument never even happened.

But it did. It did, and although Jordan seems ready to move on, it leaves a bad taste in Farkle’s mouth. Dissatisfaction, even as he did what he needed to salvage the relationship. To keep things afloat. He’s doing everything he can.

His instincts are fighting back, though. When Jordan isn’t looking, he turns around and opens his phone again, crafting a quick text response to Isa.

Then he jogs to catch up when Jordan calls after him, already in the next room.

EXT. GRAVEYARD - DAY

Isa’s phone lights up with Farkle’s text, resting on their thigh.

“I can’t get into this right now bc I’m out but I’m so sorry things are turning upside down. We’ll talk later promise but call if you need anything”

“And if you do need a place to crash, our door is open”

Isa smiles, timid as it might be. It’s not quite the pep talk or deep chat they were hoping for, but it’s a reply. A lifeline, and an offer of sanctuary.

Which right now, who knows if they’ll end up needing it or not. With the way things are going… Isa sighs and lifts their head, looking at Val’s memorial. They’re seated on the grass across from her engraving, finding a brief moment of peace with the ghosts.

Isa: You never make things easy for me, do you? How is it you’re haunting me more from beyond the grave? How many human sacrifices do you need me to deliver before you spare me?

Valerie doesn’t answer. Of course not. The small graveyard remains still, tranquil.

Ironic, that they’d find a slice of quiet in the absence of the person responsible for making their life a never-ending circus.

INT. NYU - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

Vanessa and Nigel have reconvened, now well into their little tutoring routine. So it’s time for a progress report. Vanessa places her hands on her hips, taking a deep breath.

Vanessa: All right. Let’s see where we’re at. You ready?

Nigel looks like he’d rather be doing anything else, but after a sigh, he nods. Vanessa returns it, turning and clicking play on her boombox.

It’s Yindra’s voice that sounds off with “hit me,” throwing us into the next sequence --

INT. JUPITER MUSIC - ATRIUM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Mash-Up: Lose My Breath / Bang Bang” as performed by Destiny’s Child / Jessie J || Performed by Yindra Amino (feat. AMBITION Ensemble)

As the bombastic drums kick off, Yindra steps through the double doors into the atrium of Jupiter Music Group, Reese right behind her. They’ve arrived for the first round of girl group auditions.

And they’re not the only ones. It feels like half of Los Angeles is here, a bunch of hopeful, pretty young women just like Yindra throwing their hat in the ring for this opportunity.

The Destiny’s Child track is the dominant half of the theoretical mash-up here (so listen to that one if you have to choose), but the addition will prove its relevance before long.

Reese takes Yindra to the front and gets her signed in, then one of the assistants takes her away to get her prepped for the auditions. As Yindra is led away, Reese gives her an encouraging nod.

She’ll have to make the encouragement last, because it’s show time. She steps through the next set of doors, and a montage ensues --

INT. JUPITER MUSIC - AUDITION ROOMS - DAY

Showing us the painstaking, laborious sprint that is an audition like this. Yindra is photographed upon entry, from multiple angles. She’s given paperwork to fill out, and a number is pinned to her chest.

INT. NYU - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

At the same time, Vanessa and Nigel rehearsing is intercut. They’re a bit looser, far less tense, allowing for a breath of comedic fresh air throughout the performance.

INT. JUPITER MUSIC - AUDITION ROOMS - DAY

Which is appreciated, because Yindra is going through a juggernaut. She’s assessed quickly, often amidst a sea of other girls, in a myriad of areas -- harmonizing, basic dance ability, interviewing with members of the creative producing team. Although she’s with a set of about twenty other girls in her group, it’s clear as they move through the stages they’re just one group of many.

So much competition. Little chance to stand out.

Even so, Yindra finds her moment. During the vocal try-outs, she channels her Adams diva, finding the one shot she has to make a standout impression. Particularly when the audition panel is looking rather bored, having seen dozens of other women in the last couple of hours.

So she shows them what she can do -- she fucking sings. This is where the “Bang Bang” infusion really shines, because when Jessie J loses her vocal shit on the bridge (“see anybody could be good to you / you need a bad girl to blow your mind”), Yindra does the same. She blows their audition piece out of the water, leaving an undeniable impression.

Then the chaos rolls on, the moment of clarity forgotten to the hustle. Yindra finishes out her audition run as Vanessa and Nigel finish up their rehearsal for the afternoon while the mash-up concludes.

INT. JUPITER MUSIC - ATRIUM - DAY

The latter two manage a successful run-through and exchange relieved high-fives, while Yindra exits the double doors back into the atrium like she’s been spat out of Hell. She closes her eyes and releases a heavy sigh, just as the song comes to a close.

EXT. BURBANK NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY

Isa’s luck seems set to continue, with no divine intervention from Valerie. As they’re arriving back in the MacNamara neighborhood, they discover paparazzi swarming the corner, practically waiting for them. They curse under their breath, debating turning the other way, but they’ve already been spotted.

Paparazzi: There she is! Isadora! Isadora De La Cruz!

They converge in an instant, snapping pictures and starting to ask more questions. Isa tries their best to ignore them, hanging their head low and putting one foot in front of the other, but it’s basically impossible. It’s like being trailed by wasps, stung repeatedly again and again.

Paparazzi 1: Isadora, is it true that Z.D. purposefully hid you from the general public? Paparazzi 2: Is it true Valerie purposefully hid him from you? Paparazzi 3: Isadora -- Isa, snapping: It’s Isa.

Just another block… if they could just walk a little faster…

Paparazzi 2: Did Z.D. Roman abandon you and Valerie because you’re special needs?

Okay, fuck this shit. Isa whips around, staring at the invasive paps who clearly don’t even see them as a human being.

Isa: Are you fucking serious?

It’s only downhill from there. Now that they’ve got a response, they descend like vultures, all shouting louder and trying to get the best shot. Definitely not an ideal scenario for an autistic person, particularly right after having some cute ableism thrown at them.

Suffice to say, it’s not that surprising when Isa loses their grip. They finally hound Isa enough to get them to lash out, lunging in their direction.

Isa: Leave me alone! Jesus Christ, leave me alone!

Naturally, this is the money shot everyone’s been hoping for -- a nice, feral vignette of Isa going Bjork on a fellow paparazzi.

END OF PART 1.

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#409 #episodes #s4

[spirit-small]

Edgeworth didn't like taking Phoenix to work with him. He tended to find him more distracting than helpful, and more often than not they would wind up arguing over something trivial and it simply was not a pleasant experience for him, no matter how much Phoenix missed being in the courtroom.

It was hardly a substitute, but to at least break up the monotony of being stuck at home, he would sometimes accompany Trucy on her daily activities. Now, a middle school classroom isn't the most exciting place for a borrower in his 30s. But it's a change, at least. Even if he is just kinda sitting in a bag. The real excitement comes when Trucy does her magic act.

Being a magician is, in many ways, he thinks, similar to being a lawyer, weirdly enough. The way the lawyer captivates the crowd, making them believe whatever unbelievable thing you're selling them. It's about not only convincing them, but even believing in yourself that what you claim is true. That you can truly perform miracles. The magic stage or the courtroom, the game is the same. And the name of that game is deception.

Now, sure, being a borrower ratatouilling a bean in order to practice law is a couple more layers of deception than most lawyers would have, but the principle here is the same.

Or was.

He misses it. The thrill of it all. Cracking the case and solving a crime is a feeling unlike any other, and one he'd gotten hooked on in his brief career as a lawyer.

So when he spots a crime scene from the safety of his daughter's pocket, he can't help but get a look.

"Hey, Truce... Can you see what's going on over there?" Phoenix calls up to her.

"Hmm... Looks like a murder. Wanna go see a dead body?" Trucy holds up her fists and looks down at Phoenix in her pocket, excitement in her eyes.

"Oh, you know I- actually. Wait. Wait. Am I a bad father if I take my daughter to crime scenes...? I mean, murder and death and crime doesn't exactly... Seem like the kind of thing I should be exposing you to? Hmm..." Phoenix thinks back to his days as a lawyer with Maya, and how Pearl would often accompany them to the site of crimes much worse than this, at an even younger age, and she turned out... Fffffffine? Relatively speaking.

"Oh, come on, Daddy, what's the worst that could happen?" Trucy rolls her eyes and waves her hand dismissively.

"Alright, alright, let's go look at a dead body."

Trucy does an excited little hop and bounces toward the police line - do not cross. She hides Phoenix in her cape on her shoulder, for ease of talking without suspicion. Just as she tries to duck under the police tape, she's stopped by an officer.

"WooOOOOoooOOOOooOOOOOOAH there, kiddo!" An ear-piercing screech. "Y-Y-You can't go in there!" He gets on his loudspeaker. "THIS IS A RESTRICTED AREA, SIR!!!"

"Listen, Truce, this was a bad idea, maybe we'd better-"

"No way, Daddy, I got this. Watch!" Trucy winks and sticks her tongue out. She turns her attention to the officer.

"I'm here on behalf of Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth. And I don't think the man in line to be the next Chief Prosecutor would take all too kindly to you holding me up like this. Hrmph!" She crosses her arms and pouts at him.

"Prosecutor... E-edgeworth? But this is... Prosecutor Gavin's..."

"grrmbl more like prosecutor FOP... grmmbrgrl..." A detective in a lab coat pushes past them, shoveling snacks in her mouth.

"Ema Skye...?" Phoenix whispers.

"Ema Skye?" Trucy repeats aloud.

"Hm?" Ema turns and looks Trucy over, up and down. "Am I supposed to know who you are?"

"Well... No, but, I think... You know my Daddy?"

"Mmhmm." Phoenix nods.

"Your Daddy."

"Phoenix Wright!"

"Phoenix... Wait, for real? I didn't even know that was scientifically possible! I mean, science is still totally unaware of the mere existence of b- Ahem. You have to tell me everything. Is he nearby? Is he..." Ema gets in close to Trucy and whispers. "Is he here with us right now?"

Trucy nods.

"Perfect. Let's go somewhere private, I'd like to catch up." Ema grabs Trucy’s arm and starts dragging her away from the crime scene.

"But don't you have an investigation to do?" Trucy asks.

Ema shrugs. "Dude's dead. He ain't going nowhere. I'll get on it in a bit. Meekins, hold my calls."

"I-I-I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DO THAT, SIIIIIIRRRRRR!" Meekins yells into his loudspeaker.

Trucy takes Ema back to the Wright Talent Agency, formerly the Fey & Co Law Offices. She takes Phoenix off her shoulder, placing him on a cluttered table after clearing off a space for him (just kinda shoving some junk onto the floor).

Ema gets in close to Phoenix, violating his personal space just a little bit. She hasn't seen him, nor any other borrower, in years. They're elusive creatures, and any sort of scientific research into them is almost non-existent. She has, since they first met, had a desire to thoroughly study his biology and put together a full paper on borrowers, but he and Maya said something about "potentially catastrophic consequences" and "putting millions of borrowers at risk" so even her offers to only publish it posthumously, either after her passing or Phoenix's, were shut down.

Her curiosity had never quite been sated on that front. Though she didn't want Phoenix to feel uncomfortable around her or like he was nothing but an experiment, so she tries to keep the scientific angle to a minimum. Which is hard, since science is one of the few things she has left that bring her joy. Science, and snackoos. She can't resist asking at least one question.

"Soooo... How did this... Y'know... Happen?" She gestures to Phoenix and Trucy.

Phoenix looks up at her and closes his eyes, putting his fingers together and kind of making a triangle around his nose. He inhales deeply.

"That... is a long story."

-----

"...huh. So it's true, then? Maya's no longer practicing... But like, for real this time. Because, remember, when we first met she said she was retired-"

"Yes. Yes I remember, Ema. I was there too."

"Right. Well, anyway, that's too bad. I was really hoping I'd get to work on some cases with her. This prosecutor I'm working with, ugh, don't get me started. He's both glimmerous, AND a fop! It's like the worst two in one! I was planning to help her out just to spite him..." Ema leans back and munches on a few snackoos, a kind of annoyed look on her face.

"Well... You know... If he's that bad... I do have an in at the prosecutor's office... Maybe I could make things... A little difficult for him? Eh?"

"Would Mr. Edgeworth really do something like that?” Ema perks up.

“Well... maybe not. He’s been on a real ‘morals’ and ‘ethics’ kick the last couple years, he’d probably say it’s some sort of ‘abuse of the power and respect his position affords’. Like the square he is.” Phoenix crosses his arms and pouts.

“Damn.” Ema follows suit.

"...so, detective, huh?"

"Ugh, yeah. They wouldn't put me on the forensics team. Can you believe it? They expect me to actually investigate without the latest in scientific investigative technology? Do they think I'm some sort of barbarian? Or cro-magnon? Or maybe like a wild west samurai, or-"

"I get the picture, Ema."

"R-right. I just... Urggh!" Ema looks away and shoves a handful of snackoos in her mouth. "I jussh don shee ow zhey shink-" she swallows. "-I can actually solve any crimes if they don't even give me the basics. Like, CSI Miami circa 2004 at LEAST. I'm flopping here, Wright. FLOPPING!"

"Well... Y'know... If you ever need some help investigating... I was pretty good at figuring out the real culprit in court." Phoenix smirks at her. Ema's eyes go wide.

"You wanna... Ratatouille me?"

“Well, no- Maya knew absolutely nothing about the law, but you became a detective all on your own. I don’t think ‘ratatouille’ is the right word here. I just wanna lend a helping hand, if you want it.”

“You really trust me to keep you safe? To keep you a secret?”

Phoenix chuckles. “I trust Edgeworth to, don’t I?”

“Ha! Well, alright, Wright- What do you say we head down to the crime scene?” Ema puts her hand down palm-up next to him. Phoenix steps on and she lifts him up to her shoulder.

“Ummm, Daddy?” Trucy looks at Phoenix and makes a face.

“Riiiight, Truce. I forgot you were here for a minute. Just, uh... head on home, don’t tell Edgey about any of this.”

“Well of course not! He’d be sooooo mad at you.” Trucy winks and sticks her tongue out. “I’m just wondering how you’re gonna get home.”

“...hm. Ema, you can drop me off later, right? If not, Trucy should be fine walking across town in the middle of the night, won’t you, Truce?”

“You know I love the smell of a seedy alleyway after dark, Daddy!”

“That’s a good girl.”

“...no, uh, no, I think I’ll drop you off. It’s fine. I feel like as an officer of the law I’m supposed to discourage teenage girls from going out alone at night.” Ema makes a moderately concerned face but pretty quickly wipes it away when she realizes she doesn’t actually care that much. 

“Come on, Wright.” Ema adjusts her hair to hide Phoenix on her shoulder. “Let’s go solve a murder.”

#ratattorney #phoenix and ema bonding over being depressed pathetic losers that failed to achieve their dreams is everything to me

[goodlives-mitansh]

Is Zoom Fatigue Real? 4 Helpful Tips to Follow

WHAT IS ZOOM FATIGUE?

“Ouch! My back hurts!” “I’m so done for the day!” “Oh, I can’t sit and stare anymore!”Have you experienced this on a daily basis while attending various online meetings for a prolonged period?  Most of you are going to say, YES!

Zoom fatigue refers to the feeling of getting drained and exhausted after attending meetings every day. We might think that sitting for long meetings does not have any impact on us, as we just have to sit and not do anything physically, but, it affects us, both physically and mentally, and has strong implications on our psychological well-being.

So, yes! Zoom Fatigue is real!

Going to school, college and work were normal, until, covid-19 hit us. We, as humans, tried to find an alternative, and with the technological developments, came to the conclusion of shifting to an online mode of functioning. The first 3-4 months were absolute bliss as most people got the time to relax and gather their thoughts by staying home.

Time passed and the pandemic did not come to an end. That’s when small changes started taking place due to the time spent attending meetings. That is where zoom fatigue comes in.

Zoom fatigue affects us in several negative ways and there is a possibility that we don’t even notice it or blame it for some other reason. 80% of U.S. workers experience ‘Zoom Fatigue.

What does Zoom Fatigue do to us?

Long working hours and high dependence on technology have an undeniable impact on our physical and mental well-being. Constantly spending time looking at screens and attending various kinds of meetings drains us too much.

Zoom fatigue results in us feeling exhausted and burnt out to the core, which further results in distraction and boredom after a certain period. At the end of the day, we feel so restless which contributes to us being unproductive.

The physical impact on health because of Zoom fatigue is rather subtle. Our back might get stiffer which can result in chronic back pain, as we tend to sit for long hours in one place.

Zoom fatigue results in a feeling of being stuck. It can also make a person feel very helpless and hopeless. We might feel like our head is getting heavier or lighter. We might feel irritation and pain in our eyes which results in excessive tearing, blurriness, increased blinking, and double vision.

Humans are social creatures. We always look up to something which acts as a driving force. That particular event motivates us to do things that we like, or may not like. We need human interactions but by evolution, we are not designed to look at screens for these interactions.

With the advancement of technology, there is a significant growth in zoom fatigue. But this doesn’t mean that there are no ways to manage Zoom fatigue.

Here are quick tips in which we can reduce the impact of zoom fatigue and that will help us remain fit.

4 Tips to Reduce Zoom Fatigue

1. Take a Break

Taking a break in between online meetings is very important. The break may not be long. It can be just a short 5-10 minutes break, but it should be a quality break. The break can include resting, lying on the bed for some time, going to the balcony and having a look outside, taking a short walk, etc.

You can also read self-help books. Check out our blog on Self-Help Books.

2. 5-4-3-2-1 Coping Technique

Focus on the “here and now”. Sit down, relax and observe.

(i) Observe 5 things that you can see.

(ii) Observe 4 things you can touch.

(iii) Observe 3 things you can hear.

(iv) Observe 2 things you can smell

(v) Observe 1 thing you can taste.

This technique is very helpful when it comes to calming and relaxing our running thoughts. It also helps us feel relaxed physically which results in mental relaxation.

3. Let's Disconnect to Connect

Attending meetings is inevitable. Therefore, try to distance and disconnect yourself from technology at other times. Most of us use social media, watch movies, or play video games during our free time.

Disconnect from technology and connect with yourself by taking out time for things that you love to do to enjoy and feel good about yourself and your day. Connecting with ourselves is as important as connecting with others through zoom. Zoom fatigue results in us being restless and tired, which does not allow us to take care of ourselves.

Therefore, try to engage with activities that you love, to connect with your true self, which would help you to reduce the effects of zoom fatigue.

4. Optimize Your Meetings

Invite only those on call who are required to be present. The aim should be to keep the calls smaller. We at GoodLives follow this technique to reduce video call fatigue. In our meetings, we try to talk to our employees as and when required. When the required conversation with one is complete, people can leave the meeting. This reduces zoom exhaustion and lessens screen time.

Zoom fatigue might feel inescapable, but what we need to believe is that we have the power to make a difference in how we think, and following the above 5 tips would help us reduce zoom fatigue.

If zoom fatigue is affecting you too much then try talking to a professional about it. Book your session here.

LET’S WIN AGAINST ZOOM FATIGUE!

For more visit Goodlives