#ALSO TELL ME: WHY IS SEASON 1 SO GREEN

[gghostwriter]

If You Love Me Right

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Part 1 || Part 2 Summary: Emily asks an all important question regarding the next step of your relationship with Spencer Trope: Fluff! Just fluff! w.c: 1.2k a/n: Back at it again with something Short n' Sweet. Unsure if this will be the last of this album inspired fics but so far the album is still on repeat. I think out of all the fluff I've written, this is the one where I could just feel how much of a green flag Spencer would be as a partner, if only he wasn't fictional. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

“Have you thought about it?” Emily asked, wine glass on hand as she slid into the seat next to you.

The sun was just starting to set, covering the lush backyard in multitude of pink & orange hues. It was a Sunday and Rossi had invited the team and their extended families for an early Italian dinner feast. When Spencer inquired about your availability, it warmed your heart to hear who you are to him.

“Are you sure you want me there, Spence?” your voice coming out soft and muffled as you burrowed yourself further into the warmth of his slender neck. His invitation was a big step in further solidifying the relationship and having been in questionable situation-ships, you had to be sure where you stood.

He pulled back, doe eyes inquisitively staring into yours. His gaze had this way of making you feel known and at home. It was as if his soul has recognized yours from eons ago and needed no further introduction.

“Of course,” his calloused fingers softly pushing stray locks behind your ears. “You’re my person now and it feels right to have you there with me.”

Emily cleared her throat binging you back to the present. “Well?”

“Thought about what?”

She nodded her head in Spencer’s direction. “Having genius babies with our boy genius?”

You softly smiled, watching your boyfriend of one year perform magic tricks for Henry and Michael. It wasn’t like it never crossed your mind. If you were being honest, by the sixth date and the first time he stayed over for the night, the idea of growing old and starting a family with Spencer by your side had started to solidify. 

“Maybe,” you drawled out. A half truth that the seasoned profiler caught on right away.

“And has this—” she lifted her hands to form quotation marks in the air. “‘maybe’ been discussed with the potential baby daddy?” 

You brought the wine glass up to your lips, the outer corner of your lips tugging upwards your face as you took a sip. Dating a man of Spencer’s caliber had given you the comfort and stability to discuss any little insecurity, adoration, and realization without the unease of thinking he’d judge you for it. Gone were those nights of second guessing and reading too much in between the lines and in its place were honest discussions between two consenting adults. 

It was a real breath of fresh air.

“Do you think we should have a baby?” you casually asked, laying on his lap as he was propped up against the headboard with a book on hand. “I mean, not this second but—yeah, do you?”

There was a rustle of pages before a soft thud. “Sweetheart, don’t take this the wrong way but are you by any chance ovulating?”

“Uh—maybe?”

He smiled, looking down at your slowly reddening cheeks. I—uh, have actually been keeping track—” he bit his lip before rushing out to explain himself. “—not to use the information for nefarious reasons but my brain just started to notice the patterns and it feels like an invasion of your privacy and—are you angry?”

“Oh Spence, no. Not at all,” your hand twining with his to stop its nervous movements. “It might be weird but I know you meant well. Now, will you tell me some facts about why you thought I was ovulating?”

“Well, studies had shown that women feel more flirty, sociable, and more physically attractive right before and during ovulation. Some studies also support the idea of increased libido which makes sense since that is the peak window for propagation of the human species.”

You giggled, always welcoming his rambles even if it had to do with your own reproductive system. “Right, but you know what else got me thinking about it?”

A slight scrunch in between his eyebrows appeared as his mind no doubt rewound the day for any trigger. His eyes brightening when it clicked. “Was it the picture of me holding Henry and Michael?”

“Definitely,” you breathed out, starting to feel warm just thinking about how secure his hold was to the newborn babies and that smile on his face that reached his molten hazel eyes and radiated from his whole face.

He pressed feather-like kisses all over cheeks and forehead. “There’s actually also a study on why that affected you so much. It all comes down to women seeing their partners acting as providers—” he cut himself off to land a kiss on your lips. “—I’m not saying no—I’d actually really like that but maybe we can revisit the idea again in two weeks? I want to make sure this is something you really want and not something your biology has dictated on you.”

“Okay, that sounds fair. I love you, Spence.”

“I love you too.”

Spencer’s laughter floating through the air brought you out of your reverie. A slight shiver passed through you—either from the wind or the imagery of him carrying Michael and holding hands with Henry on the other as they slowly made their way back to their mother.

You turned to face Emily, no doubt that the blush on your cheeks giving you away. “Maybe.”

“Huh,” she tilted her head slightly to the left—a subtle tick you’ve grown to read into.

“What?”

Shaking her head, she leaned in to clink her glass with yours and a teasing smile forming on her face. “Nothing. Well—you’re welcome, by the way. And as a thank you, what do you think about naming the maybe baby after me?” 

You laughed. The trio had taken full credit for bringing the couple together—something that they had always brought up like it was their greatest contribution to earth.

A layer of warmth was added to your shoulders and a faint scent of books and wood wafted to your nose. Tilting your head backwards, it was Spencer sans his black coat that was now adorning your body. His garment effectively marking you as an extension of him, as if the necklace around your neck with his initials 'SR' wasn't enough already. A priceless jewelry that had a partner with your own initials that found its home around his neck. “Hi love.”

“Hi sweetheart,” leaning down to give your lips a kiss. “You looked cold.” 

You were both wrapped up in your own little bubble to notice Emily’s eyebrows arching towards her hairline. “It won’t be long now, I guess. So how many?” 

“One would be cute—” your eyes never lingering on his face as if you were tracing the all his angles and memorizing all the stubbles that had started to grow on his jaw line. 

Spencer without further explanation continued on. “—two would be better.” 

“You know, you both have to stop finishing each other’s sentences, it’s getting creepy,” Emily quipped.

You both laughed, turning to face her, and although your gazes were no longer meeting, the gentle caress of his thumb on the back of your hand was enough to communicate everything and anything in between.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[livmightlive]

DONT GET ME WRONG- I am a huge advocate on the Wild and Hyrule being bffs front BUT I think it would be so so SO funny if they hated each other at first.

Wild and Hyrule

The similarities between Wild and Hyrule are genuinely poetic, I mean botw is literally a spiritual successor to Zelda 1. Their friendship was written in the stars.

But their differences… I think in the beginning Hyrule would envy the shit out of Wild. Both of their eras are in severe decline but Wild’s is green. Everyone in the chain knows that Wild’s memory is lacking. They know that one day Wild woke up with no memories and answered the call to be a hero, just like that. Everyone thinks it’s highly admirable to choose to be a hero without even knowing what you’re saving, just being innately good. But Hyrule doesn’t think so. If he woke up and saw a world so beautiful… There isn’t even a choice in defending that.

He’s also jealous that Wild can just… fuck off if something gets too dangerous. When they’re in Wild’s era they learn that he can use his slate to teleport anywhere he wants as much as he wants. If Wild accidentally disturbs a Lynel he can literally disappear to a sunny beach, get a drink, and lay out. He even has a map that updates as he moves. If he got lost, even with his slate not working, Hyrule has no doubt Wild would just run into an apple tree, a clean spring, and venison. He can scan an object to tell whether or not it’s poison. It didn’t matter how young, sick, or tired Hyrule was, if he stumbled upon a Lynel it was either him or it. He had to learn the hard way what he could or couldn’t eat. If Hyrule got lost there was no way his maps could save him. His era was mostly one huge bruise of dry grass and dying trees. Food and landmarks were scarce.

Because of that, Wild gets to goof off. He’s impulsive. He’s loud. He’s everything that should’ve gotten him killed years ago.

What he doesn’t know is that Wild is also jealous of Hyrule. Hyrule is just so… competent with so little. Hyrule never needed the master sword. In fact, Hyrule still uses the same sword he’s had since he was 10. Hyrule doesn’t break things. Hyrule doesn’t need people to find him when he’s lost, he doesn’t need maps. Hyrule doesn’t complain when all they have to eat is hard tack and water.

Hyrule could find a needle in a haystack without even burning it down. He’s just… everything that Wild can’t be. The shrine of resurrection healed as much of Wild as it could but the brain is a complicated thing. He wonders if he was always so impulsive, if he used to miss social cues, and if his memory had always been awful. Flora said something about damage to his frontal lobe but unless he looks up the definition in his slate, Wild can’t remember what that means.

Wild feels so embarrassed having had to use so many tools in his quest. Everyone calls Legend the hoarder but Wild quietly knows that it’s really him. Just standing next to Hyrule makes Wild look bad. It’s like the guy glows.

So they both resent each other at first, Hyrule for what Wild has and Wild for what Hyrule has.

I think if they were both teens, 17??, they would take this out on each other by being relentlessly petty. I think aside from Wind, they would be the youngest in the chain. At least in this scenario. Wild holds his breath praying that Hyrule will fuck up at some point. Hyrule “accidentally” keeps sabotaging Wild’s attempts to sneak off. Whenever the other gets lectured they get a sick feeling of accomplishment.

The chain picks up on the fact those two don’t like each other. Most of them don’t get it, two teenage kids, the same age, both heroes with a love for adventure and sneaking off. Why wouldn’t they get along? Wild and Hyrule never do actually fight though, until they do.

It starts with little things, Hyrule being annoyed after being asked to patch Wild up. Wild under or over seasoning Hyrule’s dinner portion just to test how far he can push him. Just little things to push at each other’s buttons.

And then they finally do fight, maybe after months of it brewing. And GOODNESS if it’s not a glorious fight. It doesn’t matter who started it. Hyrule has a fist of Wild’s hair. Wild throws sand into Hyrule’s eyes. The chain doesn’t even know what to do by the time they finally get them split up.

Well, Time does. Time makes the two of them start doing EVERYTHING together. Patrols, skirmishes, chores. The only way they’d be closer is if they were tied together. They hate it.

But it’s because of this they get captured together after a portal splits up the chain. Maybe they’re lost, arguing when cultists, a sick combination of both Yiga and the Eyes of Ganon scoop them up.

I think that while the Eyes are hyper competent they’re not necessarily cruel. This is a means to an end for them, they believe the death of the hero will save their families. For that, the hero doesn’t need to suffer. Slitting his throat will do. The Yiga are cruel but not very competent. They want to string the hero up, humiliate him. Torture him if they can get their hands on him… These two forces combined make something both competent and cruel.

So Wild and Hyrule are united in their shared terror. Hyrule and Wild finally start talking, trying to collaborate when they realize the cult wants to toy with them both before ritualistically sacrificing them. Through this, they finally understand each other.

Hyrule learns how insecure Wild is and why. How Wild’s era failed him and pushed him into something when he literally didn’t even have the mind to do so. That Wild is struggling to cope in a world that he barely understands.

Wild learns that Hyrule never got to cope, that his entire life has been one big chase. That Hyrule also didn’t choose to be a hero but had to be. Hyrule never catches a break. Hyrule never had the chance to get to break something.

Through their impromptu sleepover and some light torture, they grow close in the span of 72 hours before they escape their captors hand in hand.

They reunite with the chain who are shocked to see them arms around each other’s shoulders like brothers. Laughing, and more concerningly bleeding, at new inside jokes.

From then on they become a dangerous force. Time almost wishes they didn’t get along so well bc the new trouble they’re getting into is much more stressful than the old isolated incidents. They learn each others anxieties and weaknesses and do their best to uplift each other. They’re besties 💕💕💕

Hehehe sorry for the long ramble but I think about these two a lot. I think it’s so cool how their games are related but they’re also kind of opposites in some ways? This is probably ooc but I had a lot of fun writing. Lmk any thoughts!!

[dreamersparacosm]

jeon jungkook - off the record (part three)

part three ; iced oat milk latte, no sweetener

warnings ; jungkook being a bitch, oc planning his murder once again </3

prompt ; in which you’re paired with your insufferably charming ex-academic rival turned coworker to cover a congressional scandal, and suddenly, professional boundaries becomes the only thing holding you two apart.

note ; hi, hello, bonjour, hola, ciao!!!! before we get into this whole mess, i want to start by apologizing for the hunger games reference… i fear i am rereading the series and all i can offer up is metaphors and similes having to do with katniss everdeen

anyway! we get a tiny tiny peek into a nicer jk (before he snatches that back up in his paw real fast), we meet monroe in all her political glory, and we also meet Rosalie!!!!! she is kinda maybe important (i mean, did you even look at the index… homegirl has an extra dedicated to her) so pay ATTENTION to those good ol context clues

ok that’s all i have to offer besides hugs n kisses. MWAHHH

playlist here

series masterlist here

Mondays in Washington D.C are a bloodsport.

You’re essentially Katniss Everdeen with a college degree, wielding a Macbook Air and a slightly chewed Pilot G2 instead of a bow and arrow, and tragically, there’s no Peeta tossing you bread.

You’ve accepted your role in the arena — not because you’re necessarily winning this specific Monday (though rewriting a headline three times while simultaneously ghosting two former sources does deserve some kind of medal), but because in this moment, you recognize just how good you are at your job.

This Monday, with Jenna sitting across from you in the cafeteria, a small, satisfied smile curved upon her lips and an iced green tea creating its own little puddle on the table, you feel like you’ve just shot an arrow through the Gamemakers’ roast pig.

“You,” she says, pointing at you with a manicured finger, “are single-handedly keeping CNN afloat.”

You arch a brow, leaning back into the faux leather chair, “Just me? Not the seasoned journalists or the guy in graphics who hasn’t taken a day off since the Obama years?”

“Okay, yes, but they didn’t just lock down the most exclusive interview of all time while also managing two live hits in one afternoon.” Her eyes are sparkling as she takes a sip of her watered-down concoction. “Honestly, if I were five years younger and less emotionally stable, I'd be deeply threatened by you.”

You grin, warmth flooding your chest. You’ve always admired Jenna; beyond her credentials, which includes three promotions before the age of 30, she also knows how to wield power with elegance.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was,” she settles her drink back down on the table. “You have been on fire lately. Monroe, the security reform story, that exclusive with Whitford’s aide… I’ve gotta say, you’re giving me a run for my money.”

The cafeteria isn’t busy at this time of day. There’s a few lingering presences, some interns loitering by the salad bar while they talk about happy hour plans neither of you will be invited to.

Your 1-on-1’s with Jenna have always been incredibly informal; the two of you opt to sit in the lunchroom, discuss any updates to stories you’re chasing down, and she pretends that she needs to edit anything you write even though she trusts you more than her own husband.

“Well, Monroe kinda fell in my lap,” you shrug. “Sheer stroke of luck.”

Jenna laughs, a full-bellied one that makes you feel like maybe you can breathe a little today. Hell, maybe you’ll take that “mental health walk” you keep scheduling on your calendar but happen to neglect every time it rolls around.

“I don’t even care,” she shakes her head. “I needed something real meaty this month. If I have to greenlight another story about the president’s favorite dog breed, I will walk into the Potomac.”

“Tell me again why you keep me around?” you tease.

“You might be the only person left who doesn’t make me regret going into journalism.”

“Flattery gets you everywhere, Jenna.”

She takes the hair tie off her wrist and pretends to launch it at you, and you both fall into a fit of giggles before she sits up suddenly like she just remembered she left her curling iron on. “Oh! Before I forget, the gala’s Friday.”

You pause in your tracks. Full record scratch, pause, tape spooling, rewinding. “The what now?”

“You know, the White House Correspondents gala. Annual festival of denial. Open bar, basically prom for people who peaked at Model UN? Ringing any bells?”

It’s actually ringing so many bells you feel like you’re in church. It’s Washington’s annual act of self-congratulation. Officially, it’s the White House Correspondents’ Dinner Afterparty, but everyone calls it what it is: White House Prom. A glitzy, overfunded fever dream where senators and editors and press reps drink bourbon under chandeliers, interns get stuck holding coats, and everyone pretends they haven’t been arguing over bylines all year.

A night where policy meets pageantry and somehow always ends with someone crying in the bathroom over budget cuts.

You groan obnoxiously. “God. Is that already here? I thought we canceled it after last year’s incident.”

“You mean when a Reuters editor sang ‘WAP’ on a table? Yeah, no. Tradition lives on.”

“I swear if I have to talk to one more sweaty political aide about how much they ‘respect the hell out of my work,’ I’m going to fake an international assignment.” True story, unfortunately.

You watch behind Jenna as the interns file out of the lunchroom after playing with lettuce and gossiping for five minutes straight.

“Still at the Hay Adams?” you follow up.

“Ballroom this year,” Jenna confirms. “Bigger space.”

You nod, mostly to yourself. It’s not mandatory, but it’s expected. Like flossing. Or staying neutral on Twitter.

“Yippee,” you grit out in faux excitement. “Lucky us.”

Jenna hums, then leans in with the type of expression normally reserved for the latest staffer-on-staffer affair. Your spine automatically mirrors her posture, because this is Washington and you can never predict what’ll come out of her mouth, even if it’s just about someone's bad Botox.

“Also, I probably shouldn’t be saying this yet..” she trails off, inspecting her nail polish, then glancing around as if the interns never fled the room. “...But you’re being considered for the next internal bump.”

You blink. “Bump?” Cocaine at this hour seems like overkill.

“Promotion,” she clarifies. “Senior Correspondent.”

Your whole body locks up, brain short-circuiting for a second before kicking into high gear.

You can’t tell if this is because of the Monroe thing or the Whitford aide or the years you’ve spent out-scooping your colleagues while surviving on six hours of sleep. Probably all of the above.

Either way, your heart is breakdancing. You’re really trying to look like it isn’t.

“That’s…” you nod slowly. “Cool.”

Cool. Cool? That’s what you go with? Jesus Christ. You sound like a hungover intern.

“Would you want to interview for it?” she asks amusedly.

Would you—

Okay. No. No squealing. No weird excited noises. No blacking out. Breathe and say something coherent that conveys hunger, capability, and an IQ higher than 119.

“I’d be open to it,” you say, like a person who hasn’t already mentally rewritten her resume and picked out what she’s wearing for the panel interview.

Jenna smirks knowingly. “Nice. I’ll let higher-ups know.”

“Does… anyone else know?”

The question slips out before you can stop it. You don’t necessarily know who you’re alluding to. Maybe Emma, maybe that guy Paul who sits two rows away from you and is always blasting NPR in his AirPods.

“If you’re asking if we’re evaluating anyone else for this, the answer is I don’t know,” she crosses her arms over her chest. “But… they do need my approval to go through, and I haven’t put anyone up for review yet.”

The ‘except for you’ is silent.

She pushes back her chair, grabs her mostly waterlogged green tea, now just a cup of sadness and regret. You follow her lead, still feeling slightly shell-shocked in the best possible way.

Walking out of the worn-down cafeteria with her, shoes tapping against the tile, mind already spinning with possibilities, you feel oddly at peace.

And maybe that’s why you love Mondays in D.C so much.

Not because they’re easy or slow or remotely tolerable.

But because sometimes, they remind you of exactly who the hell you are.

And that, makes the bloodsport kind of worth it.

The chair squeaks every time you shift, which wouldn’t be a problem if it wasn’t the only sound in the room.

The White House has many rooms. Historic ones, important ones, also some where actual history is made. This is not one of those rooms. This is one of the weird, vaguely depressing interview rooms they trot out for second-tier people. You know, deputy communications directors, committee aides. That one Assistant Secretary who went viral for being hot, then immediately got canceled for a tweet he wrote in 2011 about dogs wearing pants.

An overpriced chandelier slightly swings above you, lighting the space aggressively. Your chair is wooden, tilted approximately 97 degrees like it wants you to develop scoliosis.

Still, you made it. You’re here. Not even fashionably early. Stupidly early.

You blame the adrenaline. Your meeting with Jenna earlier left you jittery, and no, it had nothing to do with the four Celsius’ you ingested. The notebook in your lap, which currently looks like it’s been through six war rooms, is overflowing with questions — some carefully workshopped with Jenna, others you came up with alone while brushing your teeth this morning.

Your leg bounces. You flip a page, then flip it back. Your eyes fight to look at the clock without looking at the clock.

This is fine. You like prep time. You thrive on prep time.

The door creaks open behind you, and your heartbeat does a weird little thump thump behind your ribs. Your body refuses to swivel in the chair in case it’s her.

Here we go. Monroe. Congresswoman. Possibly the key to that promotion Jenna has promised you on a silver platter. Maybe, if you’re really lucky, Jungkook got hit by a car and you’ll be running this interview slot on your own. Time to sit up straight, flash your professional smile, channel your inner Barbara Walters and—

“Wow. Early. Didn’t know that was your thing.”

You slump completely into your chair.

Did the car you just imagined hitting him take a wrong turn?

You don’t dare turn to look at him, instead pretending to be incredibly invested in the chicken scratch on your notepad. “Wow. Late. Makes sense that’s your thing.’

The door closes behind him, and you hear him set his bag down by the entrance. “You know she’s not supposed to be here for another five minutes, right?”

You roll your eyes so hard you give yourself a minor headache. “That’s five minutes of prep time.”

There are approximately seven billion people on this planet. This is the one you’re stuck sharing a congresswoman with.

God is testing you.

Jungkook rounds your chair, and for a moment you prepare for impact — some offhand comment, a smug smile, a challenge disguised as a compliment. Standard procedure.

But instead, something cold and plastic materializes right in front of your face.

You blink away the blurriness of the object in front of you.

It’s a coffee cup. In his hand. Inches from your nose.

“What the fuck is that?” you ask, recoiling slightly like he just tried to hand you a live animal.

He sets it down on the table in front of you with dramatic flair. “Your coffee.”

You stare at it. Then at him. Then back at it. “You don’t even know what I drink.”

He doesn’t flinch at that. “Isn’t it still that iced oat milk latte thing? No sweetener?”

Your soul briefly detaches from your body.

“How—”

“You used to order it every day before Public Policy, and then show up with it half-empty already,” He shrugs casually like that isn’t deranged information to remember. “It stuck.”

What the actual fuck is going on?

He takes a sip of his own drink — hot, probably black, the beverage of overconfident men who think bitterness builds character. “Still think you’re weird for drinking something that tastes like oat-flavored water with no sugar, but hey. To each their own.”

You’re still staring at the cup.

“Why did you bring me this?” you ask, voice flat, because this feels off-brand. He’s not… nice. He’s Jungkook. He’s that dude you just imagined getting run over by a car, and then the car backed up and ran over him again while you smiled gleefully. “Is it poisoned?”

“Yeah,” he deadpans. “I stopped at the cafe and asked for the rat poison special. It’s just a little something to take the edge off.”

You level him with a look. He grins wider, those two bunny teeth poking out beneath his top lip. Bastard. He’s so… so.. (and when you find the right words, you’ll scream them from the rooftop.)

Then he finally sinks into the chair next to you and stretches out like this is a coffee date and not a battle for professional supremacy.

“I want a fair game,” he states matter-of-factly, eyes flicking toward the empty seat Monroe will soon occupy. “Need you caffeinated for that.”

You don’t respond. You’re too busy internally malfunctioning.

Because here’s the thing: he shouldn’t know that. About the oat milk (or the existence of it in general.) The lack of sweetener. The whole personality trait of a drink you depend on like a life jacket.

He shouldn’t remember.

Yet there it is. Sitting on the table, condensation gathering.

You cross your leg over the other and force yourself to look unimpressed. “You really came in here with a performance-enhancing latte to try and make me nervous?”

He smirks. “Is it working?”

Absolutely.

“Only because I’m wondering when the side effects kick in.”

He lets out a quiet laugh, and you hate the way your stomach sort of flutters. Like it forgot whose side it was on.

You pick up the cup anyway. Take a sip. Might as well see if he remembered the extra shot of espresso—

Damn it.

It’s perfect.

It’s exactly what Jenna brings you each morning.

There’s so much more you want to say but it all shrivels up on your tongue and dies.

He nods toward the cup. “Well?” he asks. “Up to your standards?

You pause mid-sip, raise a brow. “It’s drinkable. Could use a little poison though.”

“That’s the nicest thing you ever said to me,” he smiles widely, although you and him both know that was the farthest thing from a compliment.

“Don’t get used to it.” You let the straw clack gently against the lid. “I’m sure you’ll say something idiotic in the next thirty seconds to cancel it out.”

You think he’ll fight you on it like he’s been fighting you on everything since the first time you met. But he just smirks, one side of his mouth lifting, “Probably. But you’ll still drink the coffee.”

“Mm. Haven’t decided just how disturbed I am that you remembered my order from college.”

“I’m disturbed you’re still drinking it,” he shoots back. “Sounds like it tastes like shit.”

You’re about to launch into some detailed rebuttal involving Jungkook’s questionable taste in everything from shirt choice to headline structure to coffee orders when you hear the rusty doorknob turning.

This time, however, it’s not Jungkook barreling through the entrance.

Congresswoman Monroe hovers under the threshold of the room, stepping into it cautiously. At the noise, you and Jungkook both shoot up from your chairs like students caught gossiping mid-lecture.

She’s maybe mid-40s, though her face suggests she made a very lucrative deal with time around 31. Her dark hair is pulled back into a low, sleek ponytail, wearing a navy pantsuit that probably costs more than your entire student loan debt.

She pulls off her Celine sunglasses in one fluid motion — what is it with people on the Hill wearing sunglasses indoors? — and tucks them into her bag, giving you both a long once-over. You feel quite small under her gaze, despite her being shorter than you.

“Wow,” she raises a brow, “Look at that. The youth still believes in chivalry.”

You want to extend a hand to her for her to shake, but decide against it when you calculate the distance still between you two. “It felt appropriate. It’s nice to meet you, Congresswoman. We appreciate you taking the time to talk to us.”

She snorts at that, clearly entertained, “Well, I believe it was my overachieving press rep who lured you here, not I. He seems to have a way with words to convince two of the biggest outlets to speak to me off the record.”

Ah, yes. Who could forget the ever-so-eloquent Mark? You hope he’s doing better than when you last saw him.

“It’s no problem, really,” Jungkook reassures. “I know this story is fresh, so we’ll take anything.”

Monroe seems to accept that answer, striding forward and taking her seat across from you two with ease. You and Jungkook share a quick look before sitting back down, both your notebooks flipping open almost immediately. You want to say you know exactly where to start, but considering the circumstances, nothing feels sufficient.

She crosses her legs, leans back in her chair and looks between the two of you as if pondering which one of you will be brave enough to speak first.

Clearly, it won’t be you.

“Let’s start from the beginning,” Jungkook’s fingers twirl around his pen thoughtfully, like he’s John Hancock about to sign the Declaration of Independence, “Walk us through how you and Delgado got involved in the first place.”

You resist the urge to groan out loud. Classic Jungkook; start at square one, build some cute little narrative arc, win hearts and minds while you’re over here looking like you’re the world’s most submissive little sidekick. He’s laying groundwork like this is some Netflix docuseries and he’s the charming narrator.

You have approximately twelve smoking-gun questions and a left eye that’s starting to twitch.

Before Monroe can answer, she raises a hand. “Confirming this is off the record, right?”

Both you and Jungkook shoot your hands up in defense, as to prove there’s not some top secret recorder clutched in your palms. You answer quickly, “Completely.”

She gives you a look like she doesn’t fully believe you, but she’s too tired to care. Then she shakes her head in approval, crossing her hands and placing them atop her knees like she’s preparing to read from some memoir. “Well, it started like they always do. Good intentions but terrible, terrible execution.”

You immediately start scribbling, handwriting resembling of someone who’s having a medical emergency.

She goes on, “He said he needed to review the vote count with me. Said it couldn’t wait. Silly me for thinking he meant actual numbers.”

Your brain is already fifteen steps ahead, questions lining up in your head like little soldiers. You’ve done enough research on the story to know this much is true: it was more than just one night.

“So.. you weren’t aware there were eyes in the hallway when you left his office later that night?” you cut in before Jungkook can deliver a follow-up, because no way is he getting the juicy stuff first.

Monroe snorts, “I was aware of a lot of things. Surveillance interns weren’t one of them.”

Jungkook glances up from his Moleskine. “Intern had good timing.”

“Depends on who you ask” she responds drily.

“So when did it actually start?” Jungkook shifts forward in his chair, picking up his coffee and taking a sip. “A one time incident doesn’t usually come with three months of scheduling overlaps.”

Jungkook: 2. You: 1

“It doesn’t..” Monroe pauses, half for dramatic effect and half for introspection. “But clearly you’ve had some time to look at my calendar, so why don’t you tell me when you think it started?”

“Honestly,” you begin, flipping pages in the back of your mind, trying to remember that article you read three hours ago that dictated the timeline with color-coded graphs and blurry pictures. “I think it was back in June? July?”

She doesn’t answer that, just hums thoughtfully.

“Care to clarify how far back?” Your hand betrays you, reaching for the iced coffee on the table in front of you that has boiled down to some sad mixture of water, oat milk, and espresso.

Her lips twitch. “Far enough that I should’ve known better.”

You set the coffee back down after a prolonged sip. Beside you, you feel Jungkook’s beady little eyes trained on you. “Who else knew?”

“And who else was covering it up?” Jungkook jumps in.

It becomes a full-on ping pong match. You’re not even waiting for answers before volleying the next question. There’s something about an agreement, about Mark having an inkling, talk of going public before actually getting the chance to. You’re incredibly disappointed this isn’t on the record — this is the spiciest conversation you’ve had in years on the Hill. Jungkook seems just as intrigued as you, his own notepad filling up faster than quicksand.

It’s a dual — a bloodless one, for sure, but still mildly entertaining. Your cramping hand and the part of you that wants to scream every time he throws in a follow-up that actually adds value makes things slightly more complicated, though.

Worse: he’s enjoying this. Visibly.

And, okay, you’ll admit this much — you’re enjoying it too. Just a little. In the way you enjoy debating and working with someone who’s actually worth your time. In the way your competitive little brain lights up like oh, this again? Yeah, let’s fucking go.

You ask something else — who’s to say what it’s actually about? You just had to get it out before he did — and Monroe chuckles. “You two always like this?”

She seems quite amused by the two of you.

You open your mouth to say no, because professionalism or whatever. But then Jungkook shrugs and replies, “Sometimes. We’ve gotten better.”

No, you haven’t, but right now that’s neither here nor there.

“Well, at least I know I’m in capable hands,” Monroe beams at you two, the first real sign of human emotion you’ve captured from her since she sat down.

Capable is one way to put it, that’s for sure.

He looks over at you again (you might have to get a restraining order. This is now the tenth time and you’re starting to get scared.) It’s more in a this is fun, isn’t it? way. Which, ugh. Maybe it is. You’d never admit it but the absolute thrill of chasing a story with someone who also appreciates the highs that come with this job, while still trying to one-up each other? Yeah. It scratches a very specific, very messed-up part of your brain.

Still, he doesn’t get to win.

You lean forward, diverting back to the story at hand. “Just to clarify, did he ever explicitly threaten you with exposure if you ended things?”

Monroe’s gaze sharpens. “He didn’t need to. You don’t get involved with someone like Delgado without knowing he’s always got a spare knife somewhere.”

You write that line down so fast your pen nearly flies out of your hand. Jungkook mutters under his breath, “Jesus.”

The buzz of a timer goes off, jolting you and Jungkook upright like someone just yelled “Ten-hut!” to both of you. Monroe seems satisfied with that noise, opening her bag and retrieving her sunglasses from the depths, perching them on the bridge of her nose. “Well, that’s all we’ve got time for today, I presume? I’m sure Mark will be in touch soon for follow-ups.”

In some way, you think you’ll miss her. She might be the only congresswoman on the Hill that doesn’t have some 30-inch ruler up her ass.

“Of course,” Jungkook stands up on command, outstretching his own hand for her to shake. You follow suit like a lost puppy. She shakes both of your sweaty palms before acknowledging you both silently and heading towards the door, slamming it shut behind her.

In unison, you and Jungkook slink back down in your respective chairs, still in some weird post-interview daze. You’re not even looking at him. Not even a glance. Because glancing means acknowledging, and acknowledging means reacting, and you don’t do that.

Except, okay. Maybe you glance. Briefly. It’s for intel.

Weirdly, you don’t hate the way it feels to share something with him this closely. You both got exactly what you needed — the honest truth, a story that’s so compelling Shakespeare couldn’t even spin up this kind of narrative.

You don’t dare acknowledge that thought either. You bury it deeply. Somewhere right next to the memory of him bringing you your coffee.

When it’s nighttime in Washington D.C, it’s like a different dimension opens up and swallows the Earth.

Bars are filled to the brim with overexcited interns and senators on the prowl for their next cheating scandal. Coats are tossed across barstools like forgotten souvenirs. Chalices of beer are raised in the air as if people returned from a long day at the frontlines.

There’s some kind of magic that comes with it, like anything can happen because you’re finally not at your desk.

You’ve just turned off the lamp on your desk when your phone starts buzzing with urgency. See: magical. Anyone who knows you knows better than to call on a weekday night.

The only person who doesn’t know better, would be Rosalie, your best friend from college. Even the buzzing feels distinctly like her. As in, it’s probably not life or death but it’s definitely dramatic and may or may not have some form of light alcoholism attached to it.

You glance down at your phone screen, contact photo still the same blurry selfie she took freshman year wearing a tiara and threatening to drop out because your dorm had “zero aesthetic.”

You hesitate for exactly one second. It’s late. You’re tired. Your brain still smells like that cursed interview room from earlier and your notes from Monroe are a chaotic mess of arrows, question marks, and multiple phrases in all caps.

But, then again, it’s Rosalie. And when Rosalie calls, something ridiculous always follows. Like night after day. Like impulse after Amazon Prime.

Plus, you kind of want to give into the magic.

You swipe to answer, pressing the phone to your ear and scooping your bag onto your shoulder. “You’re either drunk, shopping, or about to fake your own death again. Which is it?”

Her voice bursts through the speaker, words rushing out. “Okay, rude. First of all, I never fake anything except for, like, orgasms and excitement about family obligated dinners. Second of all, surprise bitch!”

You furrow your brows in confusion, moving towards the exit of the CNN press room. “What?”

“I'm in D.C!” She shrieks like this is some normal update and not a major plot twist.

“You—what?”

“Like right now. I’m here. I just landed. I’m with Daddy.”

The first time you met her, she also referred to her father as ‘Daddy.’ It deeply troubles you, but you’ve come to learn there is literally no other way to name the man who’s a diplomat with a literal castle in Scotland.

“You were in London this morning,” you deadpan, struggling to do the mental math on time zones and emissions and mileage. You step out into the hallway, leaning against a cold wall.

“Yes, and now I'm here, on the hunt for a martini. It’s called globalization, babe.”

You cover your face with one hand and let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a snort. Rosalie has been your best friend-slash-financial cautionary tale-slash-roommate since freshman year at Columbia. Your first true peek into what money could look like when it wasn’t tied to survival. She grew up with private jets and trust funds and the kind of skincare routine that requires a prescription and personal esthetician.

You grew up with coffee from a deli and a FAFSA login engraved in your mind.

Somehow, your friendship works.

Maybe it was the way she made everything feel like a movie. Or the fact that she’d once threatened to sue your econ professor on your behalf because the “curve is misogynistic.”

But mostly, it was how she always made space for you.

Even if that space is currently filled with credit card debt, half-finished Master’s degrees, and a shocking amount of vintage Balenciaga.

You sigh, already smiling. “Rosalie, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“I just told you! I’m with Daddy, he had some kinda thing. International diplomacy or rich people drama, I don’t know, I tuned out. But I’m here, I miss your face, and you sound like you’re one day away from a nervous breakdown.”

She really does know you like the back of her hand.

“I literally am.”

“See? All the more reason to get drinks. I’m thinking an extra dirty martini for me, a vodka soda for you..” You can practically hear the puppy dog eyes she has on display right now.

“I could be convinced.” You readjust your bag on your shoulder, staring solemnly at the end of the hallway.

“Okay, this is me convincing you,” she pauses for dramatic effect. “I’ll pay.”

Perk #2000 of having a rich best friend.

“You got me there.” You’re now fully laughing, the sound echoing off the hallway, phone still pressed to your ear like you’re back in college, sneaking calls in between lectures to give unsolicited advice to her on her most recent love interest.

“Come onnnn, let’s be messy.” She pleads. You glance again down the ominous hallway. Your shoes are killing you today. Your brain is fried, eyes burning after hours of staring at words and headlines and formatting.

Still, none of it sounds that bad when you think of Rosalie and a really crisp vodka soda with two limes.

“Text me the place,” you’re already bracing for impact. “But if you order anything that comes with edible glitter again, I’m leaving.”

“You’re the best,” she exhales a breath as if she’s been holding it the whole time you’ve been on the phone, “Love you!”

There’s a disconnecting sound on the other end of the line, and you bring your phone down from your ear to stare at it in front of you. Nighttime in D.C always feels like this: the first lick of ice cream on a summers day, a comforting hug from a parent after months of separation, toes digging in the warm sand. Magical, and full of possibility.

The moose head is definitely judging you.

Mounted above the bar like a taxidermist’s wet dream, it stares down at you with cold, glassy eyes and antlers the size of a small aircraft. It’s wearing a sequined top hat for reasons unknown, and honestly, it’s the most stable thing in the room right now.

The bar name Rosalie texted you an hour earlier serves cocktails with unpronounceable bitters and has dim lighting that makes your outfit look ten times better than it actually is (and also doing a hell of a job at concealing your under eye bags.) The high-top table you two are perched at smells faintly of citrus zest, her YSL perfume and spilled liquor.

Even the leather booths and black matte menus screams place that is trying way too hard to stay afloat in D.C’s nightlife climate. There is a very specific brand of person who goes to these bars, and you and the moose are both trying to figure out if you fit the bill.

To your dismay, your vodka soda is alarmingly strong, which is unfortunate because you ordered it specifically as a keep-it-together drink. Sober-adjacent. Instead, it tastes like the blonde bartender at the front is going through the world’s most devastating breakup.

You’re a quarter through it and already considering whether food would be helpful or if you'll just end up eating three-dollar-sign fries you didn’t mean to order.

Across from you, Rosalie’s swirling her (extra) dirty martini, rambling on and on about her recent trip to London. Something about the fog or the rain. You watch her as she animatedly speaks, fur-trimmed coat moving with every flick of her wrist.

“Okay…” she says, one olive skewered dramatically on a stick between her fingers. “This city is like, aggressively serious. Everyone looks like they’re walking to a meeting even at 8 PM at night. What’s that about?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, swirling your own black straw around the rim of your drink, trying to dilute the vodka, “Probably some senate fundraiser going on a block away.”

Rosalie gasps, “That is so unsexy. Vibes here are rough.”

Only Rosalie would refer to the nation’s capital as ‘unsexy.’ You respect the brutal honesty; she’s not entirely wrong. The city is overrun by middle-aged fathers and misogynistic women. If that doesn’t scream unsexy, you’re not sure what does.

“You picked the place,” you mock, rolling your eyes.

“Well, yeah, but I was going for hot, mysterious energy, not—” she gestures wildly around the room. “—whatever this is.”

You look around. There’s a man in a vest swirling around an old-fashioned and a woman arguing with headphones on while sipping from a wine glass. “Rosalie, this is the most you bar I’ve ever been to.”

She almost turns as pale as a ghost. “This can’t be my brand.”

You can’t help but laugh, sinking deeper into your chair. It could be argued this is her entire brand; picking out places that will hand you a check worth more than your electricity bill for three months.

“So,” she begins, dramatically perching her chin in her hand, “how’s your glamorous life at the White House? Any closer to marrying a diplomat’s son?”

“Unfortunately not,” you take a sip of your vodka soda and grimace. “However the other day I did make prolonged eye contact with an intern. Although he might’ve been 20, so unsure if that counts.”

She nods like that checks out. “Oof. That’s not a good sign. Are you on any dating apps?”

Her expression twists in excitement, clearly holding out for some cute politically correct love story. You don’t have the heart to tell her that the only thing you’ve shown affection to in the past few months is a bottle of sauvignon blanc.

“Nah, you know me,” You stare down at your drink as you speak quickly to avoid her piercing gaze. “Enough about that, though. I heard you were maybe, kind of, accidentally starting a wellness brand?”

Rosalie perks up a little at that, although you can tell she doesn’t necessarily appreciate the segway from your dating life to her varying business ventures. “Well, Daddy’s investors wanted me to pick a niche, which is so toxic, because I believe in trying anything once.”

“I’m sorry—what?”

Rosalie’s business ventures have ranged from ‘mildly unhinged’ to ‘legally gray.’ In the last three years alone, she’s tried to launch a gemstone-infused bottled water line (now banned in three countries), an app that was supposed to match influencers with “friends” for Coachella, and a cashmere dog sweater subscription box that somehow lost her family $12,000 despite only having five customers — three of which were her own dogs.

It’s safe to say her being enrolled in graduate school was the unrivaled alternative.

She once asked you to invest in one of her projects. You bestowed upon her $5 and a random penny that had two heads on it.

“I’m a woman of many multitudes,” she explains with alarming speed. “You can’t put me in a box. One week I’m into adaptogens, the next I want to sell lingerie to housewives. You know how I get.”

“Rosalie,” you let out a noise resembling a snort. “This is all deeply unserious.”

“Exactly.” She plucks an olive off the wooden toothpick, popping it in her mouth. “But it’s fine. Daddy said if I stop spending money, he’ll really consider funding my wellness brand. So right now I need to chill the fuck out and realign my values.”

You don’t think she really understands what it means to realign her values.

“So… you’re basically unemployed.”

She gasps, slapping a hand over her heart. “How dare you use that word.”

You grin into your drink. It’s so easy to fall back into a rhythm with her. Even if she lives in a totally different universe. Even if she has never once felt the need to check her bank account before ordering a $22 cocktail.

Her lips press against the rim of her glass before she places it back down hesitantly. “You know, you really should get back out there.”

You should've known better than to assume this topic of conversation was done.

Out of the corner of your eye, you make eye contact with the moose. His (and you’ve decided it’s a male, bedazzled hat and all) eyes swallow you whole.

You tilt your head back towards the high ceilings to avoid catching Rosalie’s or the moose's eyes. “I’m perfectly fine in here.”

She doesn’t acknowledge your pun. “When’s the last time you’ve even had sex, you little virgin?”

Ha ha.

You actually laugh out loud. Which is probably not the response she was hoping for but — be serious.

When was the last time you had sex? Does emotional disassociation count?

Because if you’re going by strict technicalities, it was that one-night stand a few months ago when Emma dragged you out, told you to just “pick a guy,” and you went with the first one who made a semi-decent joke and could name one recent foreign policy.

It was… fine. Forgettable in the way dry toast is.

You’re pretty sure he called you babe halfway through and you pretended not to hear it because you were already nauseous from the amount of vodka sodas you consumed that night.

“Sex is a social construct used to avoid real human connection.”

You smile indignantly at your best friend, crossing your arms over your chest. There’s satisfaction rippling through your body. Try arguing with that one, Rosa—

“How long are you going to avoid real human connection before you end up all alone, surrounded by ten cats and all my wellness supplements?”

Okay, rude. A wake-up call at this hour isn’t really necessary. She sounds much too invested in this for your liking.

Statistically speaking, you are on track to die with your phone in one hand and a highlighter in the other. But also? You kind of don’t care.

You're good at exactly two things in this life: 1) your job and 2) being right, neither of which you plan on giving up any time soon. You’re not about to emotionally babysit a man who wears loafers without socks or tells you he’s “big on communication” but flinches when you ask what his ex’s name is.

Relationships are cute for people like Rosalie, who have time to dabble in them. You are booked out for the foreseeable future.

“You know I don’t care about that stuff.” You decide that’s an appropriate response to her worrying. “I just.. value my alone time. And you’ve seen how hard I work. I don’t have time to date.”

“What about your coworkers?” she muses casually. “Surely one of them, with the same work ethic as you, is a good option.”

You nearly choke on your drink so violently that the moose head looks concerned.

“What?” Rosalie blinks at you with full sincerity. “I’m just saying—it seems efficient. You could like, hold hands while rage-writing about the president.”

You stare at her blankly. “I’d rather go on a silent meditation retreat with Mitch McConnell.”

“You’re being dramatic. Walk me through the options,” She sits up straighter, voice rising at the end of her sentence.

“Okay…” you exhale, already regretting everything. “There’s Andrew, but he clips his nails at his desk and I can’t unhear it. It’s like ASMR for serial killers.”

She grimaces, tapping her polished nail against her glass. “Ew.”

“There’s Gavin, who’s technically married but also keeps asking if I’ve ever been to Greece in spring, so that feels like a no.”

Now that you’re running through the roster out loud, it’s pretty devastating.

“Paul.”

You say the name with hope attached to it, and Rosalie leans forward in anticipation, like she’s already envisioning her maid of honor dress and your pastel wedding invitations. “But.. he calls Slack ‘the Slack’ and that gave me the ick. Plus, he also listens to NPR, so that’s another minus.”

Rosalie groans and sets her forehead down on the table like this is your fault. “God, your workplace is bleak. What’s the point of being employed if you can’t seduce someone with a respectable title?”

“Believe it or not, I do actually work so I can get paid.” You take a sip of your drink, which has simmered down to a pool of vodka and watered-down soda.

She lifts her head from the table, “Not one hot little office romance? A private kiss in an elevator? Anything to feel alive?”

She’s really overestimating the Hill’s penchant for romance.

You give her a long look. “I write about current events. That is my version of a hot little office romance.”

She snorts, then tilts her head at you knowingly. Uh-oh. You know that look. It’s the look she gave you in college before she asked if she could set you up with her cousin, the 7th Earl of Douglas. “Wait.. do you still work with that guy?”

Your stomach drops. Like an elevator going down one floor too fast. “What guy?”

You’re playing dumb, which is not usually your move. But you are. Aggressively and visibly.

Rosalie shrugs like it’s no big deal. “You know, that guy from college. What was his name.. Jungkook?”

Damn her. You really need to stop telling her your work stories. Not that it matters anyway. She’s known him the same unfortunate amount of time you have.

You shift slightly in your seat. It’s a tiny readjustment but you’re fidgeting, leg crossing the other way, hand playing with your straw like it’s suddenly fascinating.

You absolutely do not glance at the moose for help.

“Yeah,” you say. “I do.”

Rosalie arches a brow. “He’s still as hot as he was back then. I saw his post on Instagram last week. Those cheekbones still working overtime, eh?”

You force a laugh, struggling to banish any and all flashes of his cheekbones that are currently flitting through your mind like pages of a scrapbook. They are oddly nice. But knowing him, he probably gets cheek filler or something. “I guess. If you’re into that whole overly symmetrical thing.”

“Who isn’t into it?” She picks up her martini glass, taking a massive gulp.

You can’t respond. You’re too busy hyper-focusing on your vodka soda and trying not to remember a very specific Friday night freshman year. One where you walked into some random room at the Pi Kappa Alpha fraternity house with jungle juice in one hand, only to—

Nope. Not going down that road.

Following in her footsteps, you take a big sip of your drink. Rosalie doesn’t notice the way your leg is slightly bouncing under the table. Or if she does, she’s sparing you the embarrassment. “I always thought he’d go into modeling or something,” she tosses her jet-black hair over her shoulder. “Didn’t peg him as someone who would go into politics.”

“Yeah, well,” you mutter, “even the devil wants press credentials.”

“Bet he still looks good in a suit though.”

Now it’s your turn to drop your head onto the tabletop.

Sure, maybe there are people out there with actual problems. Real ones. People who’ve lost their homes, who don’t know where their next meal will come from, who aren’t currently sipping overpriced vodka sodas while side-eyeing a moose in a hat. Compared to them, this whole moment is an insult.

And yet, in this precise, horrifying pocket of time, you genuinely can’t imagine a worse fate than Rosalie fawning over Jungkook like he’s a misunderstood bad boy.

If you’re being all Psychology 101 about your feelings (which you got an A in, so you are), you’re still annoyed about the coffee he brought you earlier. How dare he remember things about you like he’s some poor excuse of a friend. You don’t want to be seen, or be known, especially by him.

You lift your head up, sip the last of your drink, ignore the knot forming somewhere behind your ribs.

“Anyway,” you clear your throat and force the tightest smile your face can manage without cramping. “tell me more about those edible face masks you texted me about last week. Those sounded questionable.”

But Rosalie is a martini deep, so she leans forward across the table before you can finish the pivot. Her fur coat bunches against the edge, nails curling. “So, is there any chance he’s going to be at work tomorrow?”

“What?”

“Jungkook.” She looks at you like you're the crazy one. “Will he be there?”

You squint at her, like maybe if you narrow your eyes hard enough, the words will rearrange into something more coherent. “It’s a weekday. I assume so, unless he’s decided to pursue his dream of becoming a shirtless travel vlogger.”

“Perfect,” she leans back against the chair now. “I’ll be here a few more days.”

“I—what? Wait. Hold on. No.”

She pouts dramatically. “Why not?”

You sputter, and you feel your right eye beginning to twitch. “Wha—Why not?? Rosalie, what do you mean why not?”

“I mean,” she looks genuinely baffled. That makes two of you. “I’m single, he’s single, you work with him… you can’t not set us up just because you’re being weird.”

You’re about to flip this table over. “I’m not— what? I’m not being weird.”

She plays with the toothpick that used to hold her olives. “You do this thing sometimes where you act all chill but then your eye starts to twitch.”

You stare at her, openly horrified. “Rosalie, I do not. No—okay, look. First of all, I do not matchmake. That’s not in my skillset. I can barely order dinner for two without freaking out.”

You abruptly realize your hands are clenched in your lap, and the inside of your cheek is sore from how hard you’re biting it.

Okay — maybe you should let her fuck him. She’s an adult. You’re not her keeper, and thank God you’re not his either. You have no legal or emotional stake in this whatsoever.

But then you think about it for more than six seconds and suddenly the idea feels… bad. Like ethically bad. Cosmically cursed. Like watching someone about to pet a tiger because it looks “soft.”

Besides, why would you want to subject her to that kind of torture? Why would you offer her up to the emotional rollercoaster that is Jungkook when you’re barely surviving it yourself? Honestly, it would be cruel. A hate crime.

She gazes at you. You are going to start screaming spontaneously any minute now.

“Okay.. but like, why can’t you just help me out here?”

You sit there poker-faced. Your brain — already operating at half-capacity thanks to the vodka soda and the emotional trauma of this conversation — halts all function. You open your mouth, praying something logical will come out. A thoughtful excuse. A real reason. Maybe even a full monologue about professionalism or the fact that he drives you insane on a daily basis.

Instead, what tumbles out is, “Heard he gave someone on the Hill a STD.”

Silence.

It’s like every patron in the bar took a vow to participate in a well-timed moment of silence.

“Wait, what?”

You swallow thickly, saliva going down like molasses. “Yeah. I mean, don’t quote me or anything. But, you know how it is. Rumors.”

The words feel like wet socks in your mouth.

You eye her carefully, waiting for the inevitable laugh. But it never comes. “Oh,” she says, drawn out like she’s having a That’s So Raven-level flashback. “I mean, it’s not like we haven’t— “

She stops herself. Bats her eyelashes. Smiles quickly. “So, you were talking about my edible face masks?”

You go along with it. You’re not about to ask what she almost said.

You both brush past it like the moose above you isn’t watching in real-time.

Stirring your straw around the edge of your glass, you become aware of how warm the bar feels, how loud it’s gotten, how your face is doing that thing where it tries to stay neutral but ends up folding in on itself.

You don’t know when you became a liar. As a White House correspondent, your entire career was built on integrity and ethics. This is new territory for you.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter. She can obviously have him. She can have his cheekbones and his annoying woodsy cologne that makes you irrationally upset and his coffee-bringing habits.

Take it all. Godspeed, Rosalie.

Something about being in the office with a minor hangover feels like a crime against humanity. A petty offense punishable by being trapped under fluorescent lights while liquor seeps out of your skin.

Every time Paul from two rows over makes eye contact with you, you feel a fresh wave of nausea roll through your body like a bad remix of last night’s (multiple) vodka sodas.

You don’t even know what he wants. Maybe he heard how you eliminated him last night from your list of potential suitors at the office. He probably can also smell the vodka dripping from your pores but that’s a separate story.

Your night, as it would only happen, ended with four more vodka sodas after the first one had been downed and topics of conversation that should never be repeated in a public setting. Apparently you also tried to steal the moose’s hat. So, yeah. Not really doing your finest this Tuesday morning.

You try to focus on your inbox, which is currently ten emails deep and pulsing with the words URGENT and MONROE EDITS. Tentatively, you open one. Close it. Open another. Realize it’s the same email. Close it again.

All higher brain power has been disabled until further notice. It’s just rotating between memories of Rosalie’s fur coat, the moose head, and the vague threat of vomit in the back of your throat.

Unfortunately, Jungkook sneaks his way in there too.

Which, no. You are not going to sit and think about whether Rosalie ended up DMing him. You’re not donating energy to the possibility of her sliding into his messages with a “hey stranger.” You’re not even remembering the comment she made on the curb outside while waiting for her Uber about “needing to reconnect with old friends.”

Everything is totally fine. (And you’re on the right track — your Advil is starting to kick in.)

“You look like you died at a party and were revived by the ghost of hangovers past,” Emma says as she plops into her chair next to you, placing her chocolate chip muffin on the desk. She had already been here when you arrived ten minutes past 9 AM, but retreated to the cafeteria for a breakfast pick-me-up.

You can’t even crane your neck to look over at her. “I think I’m being judged by Paul.”

Emma leans to peek over her desk. “He’s wearing those weird loafers again. He doesn’t get to judge anyone.”

“I think I’m sweating vodka.” You keep going down your list of woes.

Emma snorts at that. “Rough night?”

Another email gets opened but promptly exited out of. “Very. Met up with my college best friend.”

“The rich girl?” She pushes her glasses higher up on the bridge of her nose, re-opening her laptop.

“Yup,” you sigh. “Still rich.”

“Goals.”

You nod in agreement, fingertips hovering over your keyboard. “I wanted to be her when I was 19. Still kind of do.”

“If I had her money, I’d have fake boobs and a villa in Greece. I’d never answer an email again. I’d float off the grid on a yacht,” Emma muses dreamily, placing her chin in the crook of her palm.

“Instead, I’m here,” your mouth opens with the beginning stages of a yawn. “Rotting, in need of electrolytes. If I know her as well as I think I do, she’s probably getting a massage right now.”

Emma lets out a noise that resembles the familiar sound of laughter, opening up a new window on her laptop to resume her previous tasks. You stare blankly at your own screen. It mocks you with a NBC article you plan to tear to shreds and a to-do list you’re checking off just to say you did something, like the sheer motion will jog your brain into gear.

The cycle goes as such: open a new tab, skim an article, close it, reopen it ten seconds later because you already forgot what was said.

There’s this new policy rollout you’re chasing that’s somehow both deeply boring and disastrous. Two weeks ago, you had dinner with Kara Devlin, a junior legislative aide and some overachiever from Brown, and you pried as much intel as you could from her like a raccoon rummaging through garbage. She had given you a whole lot of nothing, but there was one quote you’ve been holding hostage.

Your eyes brush past a few local blogs. The Times. Politico. That one freelancer who insists on formatting his substack like a ransom note.

And then, you land on Fox. It’s not like you’re looking for suffering, but you might as well round out the masochism.

Your finger slowly moves down the touchpad of your laptop, scrolling down. Half of your mind is still hungover, the other half is trying to remember if you actually did Doordash those electrolyte packets to the building or if you just thought about it aggressively.

The article’s whatever. The usual. Misleading title, blurry infographics, some ominous use of the word “patriotic.” You’re on complete and utter auto-pilot, eyes glazed over in mild disgust, until—

Jungkook Jeon, Contributor.

Your finger freezes on the scroll pad. Aggressively go back up to the top. You sit up so fast you nearly dislocate your vertebrae. Your attention is piqued — not because he has any insight you particularly care about, not for policy clarity, but so that later, you can roast the living hell out of whatever lazy, metaphor-mixing nonsense he’s about to pass off as journalism.

You reread the opening lines again. Something about bipartisan stalling, vague reference to committee strategy, a few recycled phrases.. blah, blah, blah.

There’s a giggle that’s threatening to bubble up from your chest. It’s like the universe knew you needed this. You leisurely continue to scroll, unable to control the smile on your face.

Wait.

What did that line just say?

Your brain turns on like someone flipped the light switch in a haunted house.

There’s a quote nestled in the middle of the article. In big, bold letters, signed off with the name Kara Devlin.

Your smile gets wiped off your face in three seconds flat. Leaning into your screen, you murmur the quote under your breath: “The strategy for the senate is not to all agree to the same policy, but see how many back out due to its democratic ties. That’ll reveal where everyone’s intentions lie.”

No, no, no. That’s your quote. That’s Kara Devlin’s direct words, told to you under the flickering lights of a diner in Maryland after acceptable work hours. It’s now sitting in Jungkook’s article, chopped up and thrown in like seasoning.

Your hangover drops so far down the totem pole it’s practically underground.

You sit back in your chair, hands firmly gripping the armrest, mouth slightly open like you just witnessed a murder but aren’t sure who to call.

Three things immediately occur to you:

The writing is fine. But you would have tightened it, maybe removed some passive verbs, flipped the framing..

His quote placement is clunky. It’s shoved in there as if it’s not the backbone of the piece.

WHAT THE FUCK.

You reread the quote so many times it burns into your retina. Fuck Kara Devlin. Even after you paid for her three appetizers and her milkshake, she turned around and gave it up to Jungkook. She’s a slut (politically).

Emma glances over. “You okay over there?”

You’re too busy calculating how fast you can walk over to the Fox press room without murdering someone on the way to respond.

“Helloooo? Earth to [Y/N]?” She waves her hand in front of your face.

Your voice takes a second to boot back up, like an old car on a cold morning. “He used my quote.”

“Who?” she asks, dropping into the tone she uses for gossip.

You reluctantly swivel the laptop screen towards her like you’re presenting the murder weapon. “Jungkook. He wrote this piece and used my quote from Kara Devlin.”

Emma narrows her eyes at the article, lips moving as she whispers the words on the screen under her breath. Once she’s done, she gasps in horror, “Kara? Like the girl you took out to dinner?”

“The very one.”

“Oh, god.” She pushes your laptop away from her in disgust. “Even after you emotionally groomed her into trusting you?”

“Okay, maybe don’t say ‘emotionally groomed.’ But yes. Her.”

“Are we sure it’s the same one?” Emma offers.

“Of course I’m sure!” You throw your hands up in exasperation. “I was sitting right there across from her as she droned on and on about some other policy issue until this just fell in my lap.”

“Damn,” Emma shakes her head, lets out a tsk.

“How the hell did he even get his hands on it?” You slump in your chair, hands now covering your face.

Emma shrugs unknowingly. “Did Kara get hacked? Maybe Jungkook planted a wire in your bag?”

Both are plausible.

You groan loudly, “It’s not even just the quote that kills me. The placement is ludacris. He just shoved it in there like it’s… like it’s a garnish. It’s chives, Emma. He used my quote like chives.”

Emma winces, “That’s deep.”

“Now his stupid little name is tied to that quote.” Not to mention, you’ll also have to go on a wild goose chase for a new one.

Emma begins to unwrap her muffin that was lying untouched, “Do you want me to go slash his tires? I’ll wear a mask.”

“I’m not saying yes,” you mumble, “but I’m also not saying no.”

She drones on about her master attack plan, while you sit glued to your seat. Fine, you’ll admit it — this little cat-and-mouse game you and Jungkook play has always been fun. It’s fun in the way verbal sparring is, or how lighting a match just to watch it burn could technically be considered a hobby.

It’s not like you haven’t gotten your licks in before — stolen a quote here, intercepted a question there, once maybe ‘accidentally’ deleted his name off a media RSVP list.

But Kara Devlin was yours. She was earned.

Emma is still mid-rant about slashproof ski masks and the technical logistics of a ‘light’ tire slash, when you glance at the clock in the corner of your screen.

And then time slows.

It’s 10:02 AM.

Ten. Zero. Two.

Your pulse spikes, hair on the back of your neck standing up. You freeze completely like maybe time will reverse itself out of pity.

“Emma,” you cut her off mid-sentence. “I gotta go. Meeting. 10:30 AM.”

She blinks at you. “Oh! What kind of meeting?”

You’re already shoving your notebook into your bag with the panic of someone being chased, breathlessly speaking. “Legislative aide. Some Senate bill, I don’t know. It’s across the lawn, you know how long it fucking takes to get there.”

Emma pulls a face. “Oof. That’s rough. If you speed walk, you’ll make it by 10:25.”

You stuff your laptop into your bag too, nearly drop your phone, do a full spin because you can’t find your badge and then find it pinned to your pants pocket like a dumbass.

“Okay,” you mutter. “Okayokayokay. No time to dwell. I’ll process the theft later, either in therapy or in the bathtub with wine.”

Emma’s holding back a laugh, “Well. Let me know if you need company while you do that.”

God, she’s great. What an upstanding woman.

With that, you’re gone, storming out of the press room. Your bag keeps smacking your hip, hangover faintly lingering. You speed past a group of interns who part like the Red Sea, interrupting their morning gossip session.

You are an organized and professional woman who has simply spiraled about a journalist stealing your source and forgotten about a government meeting. It happens.

Today is going great. Perfect. Fantastic.

You burst through the glass doors, sun suddenly too bright on your skin. The air smells like fresh landscaping.

Usually, you love this part. This little stroll across the lawn, the strut in front of a stunning backdrop of democracy and white buildings that gleam. Normally, you take it all in.

Not today though. Today, you are head down, hair sticking to the nape of your neck, puffs of air inhaled into your lungs at an alarming rate. You break into a half-jog across the lawn, cursing your choice of shoes and the existence of time itself. Somewhere in the distance, a tourist points at you, probably thinking you’re someone important. You are not. You’re just late.

You're almost there, you can see the building rearing its ugly head. You’ll have about five minutes to fetch some water but it’ll do. Honestly, you’ve made great time, so that’s something to celebrate.

And then — you hear it. Your voice, off in the distance, echoing across the expanse of the lawn,

Weird. Not totally impossible, but unsettling.

You blink a few times, slow your pace, and instinctively whip your head in a few different directions like you’re the supporting character in a horror movie who’s about to get the axe.

Did you die? Did the hangover finally win? Is this what the afterlife is, a loop of your own voice haunting you across the lawn?

It really does sound exactly like you.

You peer up at the sky, as if God or maybe Jenna is pulling some weird power move. Like surprise! Time for a self-awareness ambush. Let’s listen to you talk for a change!

You slow to a crawling speed, confused and slightly nauseous. This could be a hallucination.

But then… you see it.

On the steps of the west wing entrance, past the security gate, near one of the stone benches, you spot a man with broad shoulders, back facing you. Watching something on a laptop that contains your voice.

You walk even slower than humanly possible, tiptoeing as you get closer. You realize he’s watching the press pool from a few weeks ago. You don’t remember which one exactly, they all blend together.

The inconspicuous man chuckles to himself.

Who the hell is that?

You take a few half-steps forward like getting closer will make any of this make sense. Just a casual stroll, nothing to see here. A curious taxpayer.

Squinting a little harder as the sun hits at an odd angle, you see a notepad perched in his lap, pen in hand.

That’s kind of sweet. Someone clearly looks up to you. Maybe it’s that intern you made prolonged eye contact with.

Oh. Oh.

He picks up his pen again, and you see them. The tattoos that litter his knuckles, clear as daylight.

You know those tattoos. You’ve known those tattoos since freshman year of college.

They look a lot like Jungkook—

Jungkook is sitting on the steps of the West Wing in broad sunlight, watching your press pool questions on his laptop like he’s studying you.

A gasp escapes you, and you slap a hand over your mouth but it's too late.

His head jerks around so fast he almost flings the notepad off his thighs. Those eyes widen when he locks them with yours, like a deer in headlights.

There’s probably a good two seconds that go by where you just stare at each other. Frozen in this very weird, dramatic standoff. Stuck in that horrible moment of recognition, like when your ex appears in your Hinge likes or you walk in on your sibling watching a thirst trap.

“What in the fuck are you doing?” you ask slowly, voice sharp and cold.

He flinches at your tone. “Jesus Christ, could you not sneak up on me like that?”

You creep forward, inching toward him like you’re hiding a knife behind your back. “Sneak up on you? You’re the one sitting on the steps in broad daylight studying my voice like a weirdo.”

Jungkook shuts his notebook quickly, “I’m not studying it—”

“Oh, really?” you snap, marching closer. You’re hovering over him now, your shadow looming on his body. “So you just casually watch old press briefings, skip to my questions and take notes for fun?”

Jungkook stands now, placing his notebook next to his laptop on the step. “Okay, relax. I was prepping.”

It’s annoying how much taller he is now that he’s face-to-face with you.

“Prepping?” you echo. “Prepping for what, exactly?”

“I was seeing how you phrase your questions,” he replies flatly. “It’s not illegal. You’re not copyrighted.”

You laugh sarcastically. You don’t know what compels you to stand there and say more. By all means, you should flip him off and walk away. Let him watch. Never think about it again. But you do the opposite. “Are you kidding me right now? You stole a quote from my source —which by the way, fuck you for that— and now you’re out here trying to take notes on my question phrasing?”

He shrugs casually. “What do you want me to say? You’re good.”

Yeah, you know. It’s how you got into Columbia. This shouldn’t come as a surprise, and yet somehow it does because he’s the one saying it, enough to stun you.

“Oh, fuck off. You don’t get to plagiarize my source and then compliment me.”

He walks down a step, still towering over you. “I didn’t plagiarize. I just published what I found.”

Your ears are ringing. “That’s your justification?”

“Wasn’t theft, just initiative.”

And it’s the way he says things like this, like the world exists to conform to all his desires, that sends you spiraling into a cocktail of blind rage and envy. When you’ve been losing things to Jungkook for as long as you have, you live in a constant state of acceptance that never really ends. It’s in how you brace yourself whenever his name is on lists outside of bulletin boards, how you sometimes catch yourself expecting to lose before you’ve begun trying.

All you can muster up is a heaving sigh before you reach down and slam the laptop shut, pausing your own voice mid-question.

He looks mildly offended. “Was that necessary?”

You gape at him, words barely forming, because the audacity is just so constant with this man. “What are you even doing here?” you gesture to the area. “Sitting here like some creepy ghost?”

“It’s a free country.”

“Don’t you dare use the constitution on me right now.”

“I like sitting here,” he says innocently. “I think here.”

You deadpan. “You… think here.”

“Yes.”

“In public.”

“God forbid I like to remember what this place is supposed to be about,” He raises his hands in defense.

“Oh good lord.”

“It helps,” he continues, completely ignoring you. “When I’m burnt out or pissed off or just need a minute to think, I come here. It reminds me why I got into politics in the first place.”

You scoff. “Which was..?”

He looks back toward the Capitol dome, eyes squinting like he’s about to say something that belongs on one of those mugs from the White House gift shop that you got your mom four years ago. “To do something that actually mattered,” he says. “To write about the government in a way that reminds people they’re still human. That we’re all humans.”

Now this monologue reminds you why you hate the guy. Who cares if he’s handsome or insightful or tall? He has deduced your career to a Pinterest-esque quote about journalism.

“Wow.” You start to slow clap, the sound of your palms slapping echoing across the lawn. “So poetic. Inspiring, really.”

He cocks his head, waiting for you to finish being theatrical.

“And also,” you put your claps away. Better to save them for your chat with the legislative aide, which you really should be getting to. “to apparently steal my tone, quote my sources, and stalk my voice.”

He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “Like I said, you’re good. Sorry I noticed.”

You clench your jaw, body buzzing. “Whatever. Enjoy your little identity theft picnic.”

You spin on your heel and march off toward the building you were actually supposed to be at. Your steps are fast, eyes trained ahead.

Even as your fists are clenched, you can’t stop the thing rising up behind your ribs. The stupid, aching realization that Jungkook has been watching you.

Like you’re the only one worth keeping up with.

You hate it all. You should demand CNN to scrub all footage. But none of it really matters because what you hate most viscerally, is that your brain whispers something treasonous like: at least he gets it.

Your face burns, heart pounding as you push past the wooden doors of the old building in the West Wing.

You hope the wind swallows him whole. And maybe his stupid notebook too.

masterlist + ask

taglist ; @somehowukook @lovingkoalaface @moroe-blog2 @almatiarau @hanamgi @yooniepot @strawberryberrygirl @rossy1080 @libra04 @kenzierj11 @senaqsstuff @dtownbae @xumyboo @bellefaerie @chimchoom @satisfied18 @arcanekookz @vintagemoonsstuff @brokebitch-101 @taolucha @songbyeonkim @oopscoop @mochibites00 @whatevevrerr @lessthantmr @nesha227 @mar-lo-pap @jazzyb22 @lachesismoonmist @indyuhhhhh @sky-23s-world @swimmingweaselzineegs @jiminshi20 @khadeeeeej @withluvjm @anishasingh1233 @jksusawife @btstrology @youphoriajk @jadestonedaeho7 @diamondjeon @sharplycoldpaladin @annafarrr @tteokbokibyjk @prxdajeon @tatzzz-25 @magicalnachocreator @younhakim29 @purplelanterns @134340-kr @amarawayne

[norris55s]

the summer i turned pretty - charles leclerc & arthur leclerc

a reader x charles leclerc & arthur leclerc love triangle, pt. 2

pt. 1

warnings: none other than angst?

a/n: a million years later here is part 2 but it’s not over ladies and gentlemen! i hope it doesn’t suck lol. part 3 will come. also i’ve now added charlotte siné as the fc for practical purposes!

————————————————————————

Day 4

————————————————————————

As I opened the door, terrified at who I was going to see behind it, I met Charles’ bloodshot eyes staring daggers into mine.

“Y/N, let’s talk, please. I screwed up, but let me explain,” he quickly said before I could even mutter a word.

I was still as speechless as I had been last night. Without a word, I moved aside to let him in my room, but he shook his head and insisted on talking to me at the beach. I just obliged, trying my best to be quiet around the house so as to not wake anyone up.

As soon as we arrived on the shore, Charles invited me to sit down and I once again just obliged. My heart was pounding on my ears and I felt like it would jump out of my body at any second.

“I feel like I should start at the beginning,” Charles said, while I looked to the sea instead of looking at him.

“I’ve always loved you. There has always been something about you that comforts me and makes me happy. I just didn’t realize how deep it went until last summer, when I realized that you kissing Antoine ruined the entire season for me.”

I tried to recall any reaction from Charles when I hooked up with Antoine last year that could’ve been a sign, but I found nothing in my memories. I was too busy sulking over the fact that he didn’t and would never like me, but I had been proved wrong 365 days later. The words were in my head but they didn’t make sense. Why would Charles Leclerc like me, much less love me?

“I’ve tried to avoid it, I’ve tried to think nothing of it, I’ve tried to deny it and it’s been no use.”

The irony of me doing the same thing for years was not lost on me. How I have pined for years not realizing he spent some of that time feeling the same way was borderline funny.

“Will you please look at me?” Charles asked with a hint of desperation in his voice, making it impossible for me to deny his request even if I knew any resolve or strength I had left in me would evaporate the minute my eyes met his.

The butterflies in my stomach felt like a swarm of wasps, and I’m sure the blush in my face evidenced it. Charles’ green eyes, the object of all my hidden wishes for as long as I could recall, stared into mine looking to decipher my emotions.

I wished I could say he found nothing but love, but in between all those beautiful feelings of loving and being loved in return, I could still sense a wretched feeling of disappointment.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” a stronger voice than expected called him out. All this time he had to know I felt the same way, but he let me believe there wasn’t a chance in hell he could care about me beyond a friendship.

“It took me too long to even understand it. Even then, I couldn’t justify changing your life on a crush, or hurt you and ruin it all. I still don’t know if I can justify it, but I know I can’t stand it anymore. I love you and I’m done pretending I don’t, or that you don’t love me too.”

When I searched into his eyes, all I could find was sincerity. And it was enough for me to jump into the deep end, leaning closer to him in hopes he would initiate the kiss I’ve desperately wanted for far too much time.

He granted my wishes, placing both of his hands on my neck to connect our lips. It was just like I imagined it.

Soft, passionate, unrushed, warm. I felt the fireworks that everyone speaks of go off in my head, and I just knew Charles felt them too.

As we pulled away to breathe, struggling to even think of ever separating me from him ever again, Charles smiled brightly.

“Can you say you love me too, mon cœur?” he asked so prettily I could coo at him.

“I love you, Charles Leclerc,” I obliged, because how could I say no to him?

“And I love you, Y/N L/N,” he replied, smiling even bigger, and kissing me even better.

Our bubble of a newfound love lasted a while, but was eventually meant to break when I received a text from Arthur.

————————————————————————

————————————————————————

The conversation about Arthur with Charles wasn’t the hard part at all. The older brother brushed the kiss off as a drunken mistake, and was a little too confident on who my choice would be.

The conversation about Charles with Arthur would be the hard part, and I didn’t even have time to settle down in my bed after the rollercoaster of emotions I had just gone through when Arthur barged in.

He looked happy to see me, and it broke my heart.

In trying to find the words to say I couldn’t be with him, and before I could mutter them, he hugged me.

“I’ve been trying to find you all this time, where have you been chérie?” Arthur smiled, but it quickly faded once he realized my energy wasn’t the same.

“Arthur…”

“Chérie, don’t say it was a mistake because you know it wasn’t. Fuck my brother, you know that this is right.”

“I’m so sorry…” I began and pushed back further away from him, as if my next words would hurt him any less because of it. “Charles and I spoke, and we have realized our feelings for each other…” I looked down, cowardly, unable to face his reaction. “You know I’ve loved him forever and I am just so sorry for leading you on.”

Like it always happened between us, I didn’t have to look at him, and he didn’t have to say anything. I just knew that we were done.

He stormed out of the room.

————————————————————————

charles_leclerc added to his stories

y/ninstagram added to her close friends stories

arthur_leclerc added to his stories

————————————————————————

[screamingintotheneverendingvoid]

Homecoming xx

John Carter x nurse!reader

Summary: You knew John would be home from rehab any day now. What you didn’t expect was him to show up at your door so late at night.

Warnings: drug addiction mentioned, reader talks about getting hit by someone in the ER, so much sap. Takes place after season 7 episode 1.

A/N: A little follow up to the end of this. It’s me trying to make the relationship feel as real as possible and hopefully I succeed because I love writing for these two. Also wasn’t sure how to end this one but when do I ever?

—

Your boyfriend(?) stood there like a wet dog.

He looked tired, but healthier, which was good. He was smiling, but it just held a heaviness in it. He had been fighting his addiction the last three months and you couldn’t begin to imagine the toll that took on him, but damn were you proud of him for doing it.

After the moment of shock faded, you launched yourself into him, he barely had a second to steady himself so he didn’t fall over. You locked your arms around his neck and buried your face in his neck, and just held onto him for dear life.

The little laugh he let out at your show of affection made your chest tight. You had missed that sound more than you could put into words. He wrapped his arms around your waist, placing a kiss on the top of your head before he rested his head there.

You don’t know how long you stood there like that, but you didn’t want to move. It wasn’t until Cher meowed again you finally pulled back to look up at him.

“I missed you.”

His words hit you square in the chest, and you couldn’t help but tear up. “I missed you too. So much. It’s part of why there’s a cat here.”

You tried keeping it light, to keep yourself from going into full waterworks. He smiled and reached up to move hair back behind your ear that had fallen in your face.

His smile quickly becoming a frown of concern when he saw the new stitches on your forehead, “What happened?”

“Oh, work. The ER basically became a Friday night high school football riot? It was chaos, utter chaos, and I got accidentally decked by a high school football player, which sent my head into the corner of one of the beds.”

You could tell with each word you spoke, John just got more upset. He ran his finger underneath the spot. “Did they do a-“

“Yes, Weaver made me get a head CT, everything looked fine. Just needed some stitches and maybe not to see another football player for at least a year.”

You placed your hand over his, “I’m fine, I promise.”

You stepped back from him and took his hand, “Come on inside. You can meet the cat, and see what I’ve done with the place.”

You pulled him in behind you and closed the door. The house still had some boxes setting around, but for the most part you had unpacked. You hadn’t changed a whole lot, Doug already had furniture so Carol hadn’t needed to take much with her, mostly just things for the girls.

You had been putting up your things though, searching for some new art to hang up, little things to make it feel a little more like yours.

“Speaking of which, how did you know where to find me? I didn’t tell you in the letters I had moved. Not that I didn’t want to, I just wasn’t sure how to bring it up.”

“Dr. Greene, he might’ve let it slip as to where I could find you.”

You pulled him into the living room and sat down on the couch, he followed, as did Cher. Far from knowing a stranger, she was on John’s lap within seconds, sniffing him and seemingly deeming him worthy enough to start head butting his stomach for scratches.

“She’s a sweet one, what’s her name? When did you get her? I don’t remember you mentioning her either.”

He happily gave into her demands and scratched behind her ears.

“A few weeks ago. It was too quiet around here and as much as I would love a dog, with my schedule it wouldn’t be fair to one. So cat it was. I went to the shelter and when I walked past her she wouldn’t stop meowing at me. Then they let me hold her and I just knew she was the cat for me. Oh, and her names Cher.”

Now saying her name made John burst into laughter, “Like Sunny and Cher?”

You turned your head away a little embarrassed, you loved a good Cher song, and it seemed funny at the moment.

“Maybe.”

You jumped up a moment later, “Are you thirsty, or hungry?”

You saw something flash across but you couldn’t put a name to it, maybe disappointment at your immediate pivot to something else when you two had just set down, but you knew having this sweet moment could only last so long.

You had to talk about the hard shit, and you weren’t above admitting you were avoiding it for at least a little longer.

“Maybe some water, but I’m not hungry.”

“Okay. I have to feed Cher anyway, I’m honestly surprised she hasn’t lost it yet from having to wait. I think it’s because she likes you.”

You leaned down to scratch the cat's back, while she soaked in the attention John was bestowing upon her, before moving to the kitchen. You barely made it in there before you heard the little pitter patter of Cher’s feet behind you.

You set Cher up first, making sure she had fresh water before putting her food down for her. She rubbed appreciatively against your legs before chowing down like she hadn’t ate in years.

You went to go grab two glasses from the cabinet, but leaned your arms against the counter for a second and just took a deep breath to calm your racing heart.

Being around John made you just want to forget the past year as if nothing had happened and go back to how it was, but that’s not how life is, is it?

Hearing steps, you turned around, seeing John leaning in the door way, just watching you with those sad, big brown eyes.

You shot him a small smile, but your heart wasn’t behind it.

“You know, I owe you an apology. For everything.”

“John… I…” you swallowed hard, looking down at the ground, “.. I owe you an apology. I didn’t see any of it. I wasn’t a great partner, I should’ve known something was up.”

“Hey…” he slowly moved towards you, giving you time to say if you didn’t want him closer. Once he was in front of you, he gently tilted your chin to look up at him, “You have nothing to apologize for. You didn’t see it because I didn’t want you to.”

He ran his thumb over your chin, and made sure you made eye contact with him. The seriousness in his eyes causing you to freeze, “I’m sorry. For the things I said, from hiding things from you, for not being a better partner and communicating my feelings to you. I can’t promise to be perfect but I want to do better not just for myself, but for you too. To be the partner you deserve, if you’ll still have me.”

“I don’t want you to be perfect, I just want you to be you. I want your bad days too, John, not just the good ones.” You took his free hand into your own, intertwining them together, “Of course I still want to be with you. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

You felt tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but thankfully they didn’t fall.

You noticed staring into John’s eyes, his seemed a little misty too.

“Can I hug you?” The way he said it was so soft, if you weren’t standing so close you don’t think you wouldn’t heard it.

You laugh at how sweet he is to ask, “Of course you can.”

He lets go of your chin to take you in his arms, wrapping you in a snug hug, like he was afraid you’d fly away if he let go.

“I’m going to stay at Gamma and Grandpa’s for a while, give us both time to adjust. Then we can bring up moving back in together, if that’s okay with you?” He mumbled against your hair.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” You mumbled back from your place of being squished against his chest, “Baby steps, hmm?”

“Baby steps.” He reaffirmed, “Speaking of, I talked to Weaver and Greene earlier, they have some very strict rules in place, but I’m going to be able to work again. In a limited capacity, but I’m just glad I’m going to be working.”

You put your chin on his chest so you could look up at him, “It might not be easy being back in the ER, so I’m glad you’re easing into it. I know it’s not exciting to be on probation, but you’ll prove yourself and be back in no time.”

“I wish I could jump back in head first, but I get it and I’ll do anything to prove myself to them.” He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

Purring and the solid frame of your cat interrupted you as she moved back and forth between your and John’s legs.

You both looked down at her and burst into laugher.

Breaking away fully from John, you leaned down and picked her up. Cradling her in your arms like a baby. You looked back up at John with a mischievous grin,

“I hope you know before you move back in the future, you’ll have to pass her test.”

[drvscarlett]

About You Pt2

Sebastian Vettel x Webber!Reader

Summary: Everyone knows about the history of Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber. But there's a well kept story within the paddock about Sebastian Vettel and another Webber. This is that story.

A/N: were in the 2009 season. i also grabbed some ideas from a film quote so if you notice that, hello hehe. hope you enjoy, let me know your comments

About You Series: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Taglist: @spideybv28 @randomcuboidshape @mehrmonga @casperlikej @cliosunshine @randomgirlnumber-13 @sugyomama

2009, Albert Park

Moving from Toro Rosso to Red Bull has been the source of excitement of Sebastian ever since he signed the contract last December. He was excited to work with a bigger team and it opened up better opportunities for a championship which is why he feels really giddy walking to Albert Park.

"Seems like a good year for a championship?"Christian greeted Sebastian.

"I'm looking forward to that, the car feels nice"Sebastian agreed.

When the two walked to the garage, they immediately saw the Webber siblings discussing with some of the mechanics. Mark immediately waved at Sebastian.

Sebastian can tell that their dynamics improved since it was announced that they will be teammates. They spent a lot of time together in Milton Keynes so they found each other tolerable. It was surprising that now he feels a lot more closer to Mark than to Y/N.

He was actually expecting her to be around when they said Mark will be around Milton Keynes but the female Webber never showed up. Mark says that Y/N has been taking some time off since she will be busy during the season. Sebastian thinks he might be the reason why she has been absent so he felt a little relieve to see her.

"Excited for the first race of the season?" Y/N asked.

"The car seems alright, I think we can bring some good points in"Sebastian replied.

"We're gonna bring in a challenge this year, I can feel that we can compete for the drivers and constructors championship this year"Mark added

"How about Brawn, do you think they'll be a challenge?"Y/N wondered.

Sebastian heard about the team during the winter break. It was sort of a crazy story about how everything happened. He never saw Jenson or Rubens as a threat so he thinks that they might be an okay team that he doesn't have to worry about.

"They are a new team, I'm sure they won't be a threat" famous last words.

Brawn GP turns out to be a slight threat. Sebastian calls it a slight threat since this was only the first race and maybe its just their luck that they managed to pull away. They have to see how they perform in the next few races.

It was quite a bummer that Red Bull was unable to bring any points. It frustrated him heavily since he started 3rd and managed to stay 2nd the whole race until that unfortunate collision with Kubica that ruined his race.

Mark managed to finish the race but he finished 13th. Still out of the points.

As Sebastian was replaying the whole thing in his hotel room, he heard soft knocks at his door. He didn't remember ordering anything from room service so he was a bit confused as he headed to open the door.

"Hi Seb" it was Y/N "I was sent here by Mark to ask you if you want to go out and eat. You are in Australia and our family is from Australia and it will be a little bit rude if we didn't treat you out in Australia"

"That's too many Australia in one sentence"

"Have dinner with us and the family?"she simplifies "Please?"

There was not much to do anyway, Seb thinks so he accepted the offer. It might also be a good start to rekindle the friendship since its been a while since the two spoke with each other.

"You're driving?"Sebastian asked

"Of course, what kind of host am I if I'm going to make you drive"

The drive was reminiscent of Sebastian's memory when they were in Germany. Only that the view is more of beaches rather than the greens and the cold of Europe.

"I heard stories about you and Mark, it seems that you two are getting along quite well"Y/N opened up the conversation

"Oh he talks about me?"

"Well as his assistant, I have to ask about his work dynamics so yeah you have been a talking point of our conversation"

"That's nice"Sebastian smiles "How is life treating you? I didn't see you in Milton Keynes"

She lets out a heavy sigh and Sebastian could tell that there is a certain tiredness in her eyes. Maybe its true what Mark said that Y/N is actually drained from a season of F1.

"I just have to get away. A lot of pressure to deliver"

Sebastian understands that. Its probably the reason why he also tried to be understanding with Mark's situation as well. He knows that at the end of the day, the sports was brutal in one way or another. Everyone eventually gets that pressure to deliver.

"Let's not talk about f1, lets just talk about basic life things" Sebastian steered the conversation.

There was a smile gracing both of their faces because its just Sebastian and Y/N again. No last names, no championships, just them.

2009, Sepang International Circuit

"I hate wet races" Y/N confirms.

She doesn't get why everyone gets a bit excited with wet racing but she can't find how this is enjoyable for some people. Isn't the thrill of racing beyond speed limit exciting enough for them? Now they even want to race under dangerous weather conditions.

"It test your skills as a driver" Sebastian defended "Back me up here Mark"

"You're on your own Seb"was the reply of the older Webber. He did not want to take side with anyone.

The trio has been sitting at the garage waiting for the race to start. There was still 20 minutes left and Y/N has been stressing about how the dark clouds are looming over. She thinks it may start under dry conditions then go to wet in a snap.

"You can test your skills by overtaking and setting the fastest lap" Y/N noted

"Its all about strategy and taking risks"Sebastian assured.

"You better make sure that the both of you finish the race"

"No promises, Seb might hit me again"Mark joked

"Oh c'mon, I said I was sorry about that"

True enough to Y/N's prediction, the race started on the dry conditions then it ended up to be a wet race. Y/N had her fair share of wet races but this was the most terrifying for her opinion. There were puddles and the drivers can't see a thing with the rain blocking their vision.

It gotten so bad that Y/N actually went out of the driver's room to check on the status of the drivers.

"Aren't they red flagging the race?"she asked one of the mechanics

"There is still nothing from the stewards but Mark is also insisting that the race should be stopped"

Y/N was glad that she wasn't the only sane Webber around.

Just then there was a crash on screen and the weather made it very difficult for them to decipher which car spun but it was for sure a Red Bull. Y/N felt a bit comforted that it just spun without hitting anyone or anything.

"Its confirmed, that is Seb's car"

"Safety car for the lap"

"Webber is gonna ask to stop the race"

There was a flurry of emotions inside the garage. The race was stopped at lap 33 and there was the question if they will wait for it to restart or is it called off completely.

"I'm in 15th, this is not good"Sebastian was already groaning. He missed out on the points again by a big margin.

"Hey 15th is okay than dnf or being hospitalized"

Knowing Sebastian, Y/N knew he wanted to do well and it didn't seem like it was going to how Sebastian had it in his mind earlier this year. She gave him a comforting pat.

"Do you want some ice cream?"she asked

Sebastian looked at her as if she grew two heads "In this cold weather? You are asking for ice cream?"

"Ice cream heals people's boo boo" Y/N shrugged "Besides Kimi made me hungry for ice cream"

"You are crazy" Sebastian started "But c'mon lets go get some ice cream"

2009, Circuit de Catalunya

Mark: Can you see me before qualis at the back of the garage Mark: need your help, please

Sebastian never received any urgent texts from Mark so he must say that his curiosity is piqued by it. He immediately set out to meet Mark in the designated location.

"You need me?"Sebastian asked.

"Sebastian, just the person I needed" Mark seems elated to see him "Listen I need you to do me a favor"

"Okay as long as I don't have to hide a body"

"What?"

"Nevermind that. It was a joke Mark"Sebastian wanted to facepalm himself. Mark never seems to understand his humor especially when he was too excited with things.

"So May 15 is coming up. I need your help to distract my sister and maybe tour her around Spain while we do some preparation at the hotel. I just need your help to distract her for like 3-4 hours"Mark explained.

"15th?What's on the 15th?"

Sebastian was pretty sure that there was no race or other commitments that is happening on the 15th. He tries to rack his head for any important dates on the 15th but he can't remember a thing. Meanwhile, Mark looked offended that Sebastian didn't know the significance of May 15.

"Its Y/N's birthday"Mark answered.

Oh. Now that Sebastian thinks about it, Y/N never told her birthday. He felt like an idiot after realizing how they spend a lot of time together but he still haven't asked her about her birth date. But now that he knows, he makes a mental note of it.

"Okay. I think I can do that. Leave it to me"

"Thanks Seb, I owe you big time"

Seb: Are you still here at the 15th? Y/N: Why are you asking? Seb: I'm feeling adventurous. What do you say about getting lost in spain? Y/N: hmm sounds nice. Count me in.

"How long till we get there"Y/N asked.

They have driven for quite some time already and Sebastian promised that this place will be worth the wait. Sebastian will not admit it but maybe he got a little bit of lost in directions for the past 20 minutes and he is just starting to get the hang of the destination right now.

"Just a few minutes more" Sebastian assured. He can already see the spires of the building so he felt a sigh of relief escape.

"We were lost a while ago, aren't we?"

Sebastian just give out a grin as he continues to drive closer to the place. He stopped at the designated parking lot and unlocked the door.

"Adventure awaits Miss Y/N, welcome to La Sagrada Familia"Sebastian introduced.

When Sebastian was looking for a place to go, the La Sagrada Familia was one of the top hit. Sebastian didn't even consider if she is religious or what but he thinks she can appreciate the reminder that this architecture is still a work in progress and it has managed to endure a lot throughout the years of construction.

"This is beautiful" was her response.

"They say that this will be the most beautiful form of apology when it is finished"Sebastian informed "This was built for the city's sins"

"I beg to disagree"Y/N replied.

It was now Sebastian's turn to be curious.

"I think this is the grandest gesture of someone's love"Y/N elaborated "This went on for years, decades, centuries-they did not stop loving Barcelona that they continue working so that the city will be forgiven"

It was a pretty analogy in Sebastian's mind. He felt like no amount of his research could compare with that realization.

If the outside of the cathedral looks majestic, the inside is beyond what they could imagine. The both of them let out a small woah as they stepped foot into the church.

"You know you can make three wishes when its your first time to enter a church, they say it comes true when you do that"Y/N mentioned "You wanna give it a go?"

Sebastian nodded and he noticed how Y/N immediately closed her eyes.

'A world drivers championship. Happiness. Y/N receiving her wish' was what Sebastian prayed for.

He takes out a peek and Y/N was still in her own solemn state. Sebastian wonders what is it that she wishes for and he hopes that this three wishes thing works. He really wanted Y/N to fulfill her wishes, it will make him extremely happy.

"What did you wish for Y/N"

"Safe races, World Peace, and points for you and Mark" she answered

"Oh c'mon, you don't have things about yourself. Don't you have any personal wishes? Like your own goals or your own things?"Sebastian quizzed

Y/N knew deep down that she wanted something but she knew that saying it at the moment might not be ideal. But heaven knows, she prayed for Sebastian Vettel to stay in her life.

2009, Nürburgring

Y/N didn't mind that she was in heels, she was running as fast as she could to parc ferme. The moment that the last lap started and Mark was still leading, she immediately headed straight to the destination. Their father was already at the pits waiting with the signboard.

There was certainly a mix of emotions. Y/N's mind reel back to how Mark started pole and then had an incident with Hamilton at the start of the race. It caused him to have a penalty which lessens his chances of winning but Mark was in for a mega-drive. He managed to regain all the places that he lost from the penalty and here he is leading the Grand Prix.

Y/N felt her ears ringing as the crowd roars as the chequered flag appeared. Every speaker was blaring out the obvious, this is Mark Webber's first win in Formula 1.

People are starting to line up near the barricades. Y/N doesn't care if she was being pushed but she will be the first one to meet her brother and congratulate him once he gets out of the car.

"YOU DID IT! YOU ABSOLUTELY CRUSHED IT" Y/N screamed to Mark.

Mark did not miss his sister and immediately hugged her tight. He kept on repeating his thanks for her support and for not giving up on him. Y/N could only choke on a sob with the cameras flashing the emotional sibling moment that they shared.

"Congratulations Mark"Sebastian appeared next to him and Mark gave him a hug.

It was a happy day for the Red Bull team for securing double podiums. The whole Red Bull team cannot contain their happiness as the two walked to their podium spots. It is certainly a day that warrants a much needed night out.

So fast forward and Red Bull rented out a club to celebrate the victory of today. Y/N was certain that she deserved to let loose a little with the events that happened today.

Shots after shots, Y/N managed to drink everything up until the room started to feel a little bit wavy. It was a good thing that Sebastian has not been much of a party animal, he knew that this was Mark's time to celebrate so he won't be taking too much of a spotlight.

"You are seriously wasted, you should stop drinking now" Sebastian said, catching Y/N before she could trip in her heels.

"my brother won, can't you believe ittttt"her words are slurred.

"Yep, I'm getting you water and were going back to the hotel"

"NOOOOOO"

But Sebastian has already carried her out of the club. Sebastian knew that there are probably much more people wasted there but Sebastian was focused on Y/N. She was the reason why Sebastian decided to sober up the entire night. Knowing that Mark will be celebrating, no one will take care of Y/N.

Sebastian wanted to take care of her.

The trip to the hotel was smooth as Y/N was asleep at the car. Sebastian was giggling when he picked her up and she started rambling about how there are different kinds of beautiful in formula 1.

"But you know what's the most beautiful thing in f1 that I have seen?" she asked "Its the time where I saw Sebastian Vettel test the car"

Sebastian got curious, he didn't know that Y/N was around when he tested the car.

"And it was so dreamy. There was this beauty about him and you know he is so passionate. He isn't a paid driver or maybe he is but damnnnn the way he raced and the way he loved the wheels"Y/N rambles on.

It feels illegal for Sebastian to be hearing this and he knows he should not take advantage of Y/N's truthful drunkness to hear what she thinks about him. But somehow, Sebastian stayed with her. He tucked her in the bed and left a glass of water at the bedside table.

"Did you know Sebastian Vettel is the prettiest boy ever. He is so pretty like how the sun is so pretty to the plants" Sebastian also laughed at the comparison. Y/N was really really drunk.

"I like Sebastian"

"What?" was Sebastian's shocked question.

"I like sebastian, what sue me? I think he is a pretty pretty boy"

Sebastian feels like his heart is pounding but he has to stay cool. She is drunk right now and she might not be aware of the things she is saying.

"You get some rest, lets talk about this in the morning" Sebastian said as he left the girl.

It took every ounce of his being to prevent himself from confessing that he likes her a lot too. But Sebastian will do his confession sober. If Y/N remembers this incident then they will talk about it. If not, he will wait for the right timing to discuss the feelings he has for her.

Morning came and Y/N did not remember anything.

[morgana-larkin]

The more Melissa schemmenti fics the better . Could you please please please write one were Melissa does the leaning on the wall with the arm thing . Like the jock /cheerleader pose in the hallway . But with reader . I love that Melissa is bad girl with milf vibes .

So sorry that this took way longer than I thought it would. And I agree with you, the more Mel fics the better. I also put some inspiration from a fan art of Mel eating reader out with her glasses on and hair up and the creator asks for a fic about it and I honestly forgot their name. If you can let me know in the comment section so I can tag them in this then it would be appreciated! Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: I can’t believe that season 4 starts tomorrow and there’s a new episode of Agatha All Along! #spoiled

Another note: it was @dashbag-art that made the fan art of Mel eating someone out.

What She Wants

Warnings: bad girl Mel, smut, small praise kink

Words: 2.8k

You’re walking down the hallway, collecting late book returns from students. You’re on your second year of being the school librarian and you’re loving it so far. You just collected a few books from Janine’s kids and now you’re on to Melissa’s.

“Alright my little eagles, who can tell me wh-” Melissa says and then you knock on her wide open door. Melissa looks and sees you and she instantly smiles. “Hello Y/n.” She says and you blush slightly.

“Hi Ms. Schemmenti, I need to talk to a few students in your class.” You tell her and she nods.

“By all means, who do you need?” She asks.

“Let’s see.” You say and look at your list. “Milly, Dominic and Avery.” You say and the 3 students sit up and walk out the door.

Melissa watches you for a second before she goes back to her lesson. She watched you while you did your first year here and she’s been watching you more closely since you came back and started your second year a couple months ago. You talk to the 3 students and then they return to their desks while Melissa continues the lesson. Melissa gives you a smile that you return before you go to the 3rd graders.

The next period starts and you have to go back to the library to see who is where this period and return the books that you were able to get, back to their place. About 20 minutes into the new period, you’re walking to a 4th grade classroom when someone stops you.

“Hey hon.” You see Melissa say and she traps you against the wall and she’s leaning on her arm that’s on the wall.

“Oh h-hi Melissa.” You stutter out and she smiles at you, you’re holding the couple books you have close to your chest.

“Do I make you nervous?” She says and leans in closer to you.

“A-a little bit.” You say to her and she smirks.

“And why is that?” She asks, a little cocky.

You have to admit that you didn’t think this is where the day would go. You’ve been attracted to Melissa since day 1 but never went for it from the things some other teachers have told you. They warned you to stay away from her as she doesn’t always tolerate people and knows what to do to get what she wants. They also told you that she knows several guys all around the city in various fields of work so be cautious. Now she’s close to you and asking why you’re nervous around her and you don’t know what to say.

On Melissa’s end is a bit different, she can probably guess that other teachers told you a few things about her. She found you cute since you started but she kept her distance since you were new. Now you came back for another year and she knows she wants you. She’s having fun watching you squirm a bit right now for an answer. She tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear and you freeze.

“Why do I make you nervous hon?” She asks again and you look up and catch her eyes and you freeze again. She had beautiful green eyes that go perfect with her beautiful face and gorgeous ginger locks.

You start looking for a way out and notice that she’s trapped you pretty good as she’s gotten closer and there’s no one in the halls to help you.

“I-I…um.” You stutter and Melissa tilts her head a bit, still smiling.

“You’re adorable when you don’t know what to say. I’m gonna take a wild guess and say that the other teachers warned you about me when you started?” She asks and you nod slightly. She hums as she thinks of what to say next now that she’s got you trapped. You take a second to look at her and see that she’s wearing the leather jacket you love on her as well as a pink low cut top and see a good amount of her cleavage. Melissa of course notices you staring at her chest and smirks. “My eyes are up here hon.” She tells you as she tilts your chin up with her free hand. She sees your eyes widen as you got caught and smiles at you. “I don’t mind you looking but not at school, we have to stay professional.” She tells you as she leans into your ear. “Come to my place after school and you can look all you want.” She tells you and then pulls back. You’re looking at her like a deer in the headlights and frozen in place. “Is that ok with you hon?” She asks and you nod your head, unable to form words. Melissa tucks another loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “Good girl.” She says and then leaves.

You hear her heels clicking against the floor and you take a few breaths. What the fuck just happened and what did you agree too? You think and you look at Melissa’s retreating form. You see a slight sway in her hips and can’t help but look at her ass. The other teachers warned you about her and now you agreed to go to her house after school today. Are you very fucked right now? You continue to collect the books and talk to students about late books right until the end of the day. When you’re packing up to go home you get a text from an unknown number.

Unknown number: Hey hon, it’s Melissa. Here’s my address

You read and then get another text with an address.

You: How did you get my number?

Melissa: I know a guy

It’s all she says and then a wave of nerves hits you. In truth, Melissa went to Ava for your number and Ava gave it to her without much thought.

You pull up the driveway of Melissa’s house and walk up to the door. You’re about to knock when you glance down and see the ‘go away’ welcome mat and you hesitate. You then decide to fuck it and knock. Melissa opens the door a few seconds later and smiles when she sees you.

“Hey hon, come on in.” She tells you and steps aside to let you in. “Dinner is in the oven and it’ll be ready in about 10 minutes.” She says as she begins to lead you to her kitchen. “Want some wine while we wait?” She asks you and looks back and sees you looking at her pictures. “Those are just some family pictures.” She tells you a little smile makes its way to your face.

“You have a beautiful family.” You say and she smiles. “Some wine would be nice.” You tell her as she leads you into her kitchen. She pours a glass for you and hands it to you before she pours one for herself. She can see you still nervous even after a few sips of wine so she walks up behind you, spins you around and traps you between her and her counter.

“There’s no need to be nervous around me hon. I’m not going to do anything to you.” She tells you as your eyes are wide and looking directly at her. You don’t answer so she talks again. “What has been said about me that’s got you so nervous?” She asks you and you gulp. “Come on, be a good girl and tell me.” She says and you have to admit that those words affected you and you tell her.

“They warned me to-to be cautious around you as you know several guys in various fields and you know how to get what you want.” You tell her and she hums.

“Well like I said before.” She starts and starts trailing a finger on your wrist up to your shoulder. “I’m not going to do anything to you.” She tells you. “Unless you want me too.” She adds and you glance down and see her outfit better. She changed into a green tank top with a jean sweater, with her hair up, and that tank top doesn’t leave much to the imagination. “You can look all you want.” She tells you as she catches you looking at her chest again. She then places a hand on your hip and moves it up your side, making you squirm a bit. “I know you have a crush on me, and I do want you as well.” She says and your jaw drops. She then leans over to your ear. “I want to claim you as my own.” She whispers in your ear and pulls back to see your eyes turn black. She smiles and leans to your lips until hers meet yours and she starts kissing you and you don’t stop her, in fact you kiss her back.

She smiles into the kiss, knowing she got you. She wanted you and like always she got what she wanted. The other teachers were right about that, she gets what she wants and knows several guys who can help make it happen. She thought it would take longer to get you but then she realised that you already have a crush on her.

She trails her fingers to the hem of your shirt and pulls it up when you don’t stop her. She takes your shirt off and then puts her hands on your bra while still kissing you. She then goes to your back and unclips your bra before yanking it off. She immediately attaches her mouth to a nipple and you gasp and put your hands in her hair. She brings her hands to your thighs and wraps her arms around them before hoisting you up onto the counter. She goes and kisses your neck and starts sucking on it, marking what’s hers. While kissing your neck, she brings her hand over to your centre and starts circling it over your underwear. You’re a moaning mess at this point and all you want is for Melissa to fuck you.

“Me-Melissa, p-please.” You say and Melissa pulls your pants down and off, as well as your panties. She stares at you completely naked for a second before separating your legs and then bends down to where your clit is. Before she dives in, the oven timer goes off, startling both of you.

“Stay just as you are, baby, this will just take a second.” She says and then goes and turns the oven off but keeps the food inside to keep warm. She returns back and goes back in between your legs. “Now where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?” She tells you with a smirk and then bends down again.

“Wait.” You say and she stops and looks up at you. “Do you mind, um…” You start but then get nervous.

“What is it, baby?”

“Do you mind, putting your glasses on?” You ask her and she tilts her head before smiling.

“Have you imagined me eating you out before with my glasses on?” She asks and you nod. “Naughty girl.” She says with a smirk before she puts her glasses on. She then doesn’t wait any longer and dives down to your pussy. You gasp out as her hot tongue finally connects with your centre. You put your hands in her hair and grab her ponytail. You’ve imagined this scenario many times before but never thought it would come true. But now here she is, eating you out with her glasses on and hair in a ponytail just like you imagined. Melissa then moves to your clit and starts licking and sucking as you moan out. She then inserts a finger inside of you and all thoughts leave your head besides thoughts of her.

“Mel-Melissa.” You moan out and you feel her smile as she continues sucking on your clit. You feel your orgasm approaching and you tighten your hold on her hair. She then inserts a second finger in you and she replaces her tongue with her palm and straightens herself so she’s face to face with you.

“I want to watch as you come undone by me.” She says seductively and you wrap an arm around her and dig your nails into her back. She can tell you’re close at that point and she starts going faster. Your mouth is hanging open and you dig your nails deeper in her back and she can feel you squeeze around her fingers. “Come for me, baby.” She says and then you come around her fingers. She slows down inside of you before removing her fingers. She then brings her fingers to your mouth and you waste no time in opening her mouth and licking her fingers clean of your juices. “Now how about we eat dinner and then I take you to my bed and fuck you with a dildo.” You hum and lean your head on her chest as you’re coming down from your high. She strokes your head and wraps an arm around your back and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

She gave you her jean jacket to wear as she thought you getting dressed was a waste of time as she’ll just take all your clothes off again. All through dinner you stare at her and her arms. You had no idea she had muscles as she usually wears sweaters and long sleeve shirts.

“What are you staring at?” She asks you.

“You.” You simply say, not embarrassed to admit it now that she’s fucked you. “Mostly your arms. Had no idea you have muscles.”

“Most people don’t.” She simply says and gives you a smile. After dinner she brings you straight to the bedroom, she takes off the sweater she gave you and then pushes you down onto the bed. “Since you like staring at my chest so much, you’ll like what you see without anything on.” She tells you before she removes her shirt and bra. As soon as she removes her bra, your jaw drops. There they were, the objects of your gaze and they’re perfect.

“Wow.” You breathe out and she smirks before getting you on your back. She then takes her pants and underwear off as you lean on your forearms to watch her undress. She goes to her closet and puts a strap on with an average size dildo and then walks back to the bed. She goes on top of you and starts circling your clit. Once she feels that you’re wet enough, she puts some lube on the dildo and then slowly slides in you. Once she’s fully inside you, she gives you a second before she starts moving and you start gasping and moaning.

“Your pussy looks so good, just sucking this dildo right up.” Melissa tells you. After a couple minutes, as your orgasm approaches, Melissa suddenly pulls out of you and you look at her in shock. “I want you on all fours, so I can pound into you.” She says seductively in your ear and you shiver. You then get on your hands and knees and Melissa aligns the dildo with your entrance and inserts it into you. She then starts pounding into you and you fall a bit and Melissa takes advantage of that and keeps your ass lifted, giving a better angle. Once you get close again, she lifts you up so your back is pressed against her chest and she starts circling your clit while still moving the dildo inside of you. “This pussy is amazing and it’s all mine.” She says in your ear and you reach behind you and grab a hold of her hair. You come a few seconds later and your sounds get her to come as well since the dildo was rubbing her clit. You both catch your breath and lay down on the bed after Melissa takes the strap on off.

“Melissa?” You say as you look at her and she looks at you. “Was this a one time thing?” You ask her and she looks at you and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Do you want this to be a one time thing?” She asks you and you shake your head. “I thought you were scared of me and now you want to see me more?” She asks you.

“You’ve given me no reason to be scared of you.” You tell her. “You did tell me that you’re not going to do anything to me.” You add and she smiles at you.

“This wasn’t a one time thing, I would like to do it again. As well as take you out on a date.” She says and you smile at her.

“I would like that.” You say and she pulls you closer to her.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

@idonothingalldays-blog

@sexysapphicshopowner

@dvrkhcld

@lilfartbox1

@ricejucie

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Let me know if you want to be added!

[nickeverdeen]

hello! I really enjoy reading ur work, so I’m wondering if I could request a TUA (the umbrella academy) preference where the reader confesses their feelings during an argument (they aren’t dating yet) no pressure ofc <3 thank u sm for being a good writer!!

Thanks for requesting!!! And thanks for those words, I might be slower at writing considering I have school tests everyday, well I mean I’m in law school so what was I expecting-

Anyway, thanks a lot for everything 🫶

————————————————————

Confessing your feelings to Umbrella Academy members during an argument

————————————————————

TW: Cussing, mention of injury, drugs, sometimes cliché

————————————————————

You = white text

Luther = blue text

Diego = red text

Allison = pink text

Klaus = orange text

Five = green text

Ben = also green text, but cursive (‘cause I’m running out of colors)

Viktor = purple text

————————————————————

Luther Hargreeves

This takes place in season 1

The argument was pretty simple

You just wanted him to shut up for like 5 seconds about the moon and stop defending Reginald and digging into his death

You two were currently standing in the “meeting room” in the Umbrella Academy along with others discussing how Reginald died. Sure you weren’t part of this family, but you were invited anyway. Why you had no idea, maybe ‘cause you were a family friend?

“Jesus Christ Luther, stop digging into it so much. It was a heartattack, calm down” you rolled your eyes sighing as you agreed along with others that Reginald died of a heart attack.

“Oh so you’re on their side now? Even my best friend, great” he chuckled at the irony rolling his eyes. “Well I wonder why” Diego sneered. Soon the whole room started arguing about it, you’ve had enough of this. They were adults so they should act like it

Standing up from your seat you shook your head whistling which only caught Viktor’s and Allison’s attention… not what you wanted.

“Shut the fuck up!” You finally yelled and they all grew silent except for Diego who insulted his brother and you before storming off. “We’re all adults yet you all act like kids. Get your shit together” you sighed frustrated.

With that Luther got up and took few steps towards you “You don’t have a say in this. Dad was murdured, and last time I checked I was on the Moon to-“ Luther started but got cut off by you

“Luther, for the love of god, as much as I love you, shut up about the Moon and stop defending him” You rolled your eyes making Viktor raise his eyebrows suprised

Luther stood there kidna offended at first before realizing what you said “Wait what?” You just cussed under your breath. This is gonna be a long day.

At first Allison was kidna jealous for sure, but slowly joined Klaus with sometimes teasing you. You had a lot of explaining to do.

Diego Hargreeves

This takes place in season 2

Along woth others you had enough of Diego thinking about J. F. Keneddy 24/7

It was another night at Elliot’s and here you were, sitting in a corner across the room from Diego with Five between the two of you. You all were watching a tape Hazel gave Five before dying, a man on a grassfield was standing there when the president is getting shot.

To be honest you rightfully along with Lila who was sitting near you had no idea who this is unlike the two boys who seemed shocked at it

“Uh guys? Wanna also tell us who that is?” You asked awkwardly with Lila nodding slightly only to hear a whisper “dad” escape their mouths at the same time.

“Do you see this? That’s dad and he is the one who killed the president” Diego turned to you with a serious expression “Oh here we go” You rolled your eyes crossing your arms. “How can you know for sure that it was him? It doesn’t look like he’s holding a gun” you just shrugged leaving Diego frowning

“Do you even listen to me? That’s a proof that he is the killer!” Diego stood up pacing around the room

“And you know that how? He-“ you get cut off as he looks at you sharply, if you didn’t know him you’d think he’s crazy

“Take it easy, Diego” Five said calmly trying to ease the situation, but of course it didn’t help. “He is the killer! Don’t you hear me?! The evidence is right here!” Diego yells at you pointing at the tape

“Oh for fuck’s sake, you don’t wanna tell me that I fell for a madman” You scoffed crossing your arms taking a step towards him and he took a small step back as he processed what you said

“Well that’s an awkward silence” Lila said chuckling slightly, but none of you spoke until Five told you both that there’s no time for these things right now and you both followed him out to wherever you guys are going

“We’re not done with this conversation” Diego said, but not so agressively, more calmly yet of course not softly as it ain’t in his nature.

Allison Hargreeves

This takes place in season 3

You were starting to get really annoyed with her, but when you caught her trying to rumor herself in the mirror to be happy you couldn’t be angry or upset with her at that moment

You and other Hargreeves siblings were just miding your own businesses, but you did notice that Allison was missing. At first you didn’t make a big deal out of it, she was being really annoying, but still that didn’t mean that you didn’t care about her. You were on this crazy Hargreeves rollecoster since the very beggining and they were all very dear to you.

So here you were looking through the whole hotel for her, you were starting to give up before you heard a glass break in the bathroom.

Slowly you stepped in and that’s when you witnessed it. “I heard a rumor that you were happy” Allison said trying to rumor herself through the mirror you weren’t sure if it’d work, but you sure as hell were concerned by now, you were aware that she had a hard time, but this was really bad.

“Allison?” You stepped in properly after seeing that it doesn’t work

Allison slightly jumped at the sudden voice, she didn’t need to turn around to know that it’s you “What do you want?”

Her words were sharp, but you tried to ignore the feeling and took few steps closer, your eyes inspecting her bloody hand from the distance. “Are you okay…?” You asked slowly unsure if she wants to open up

She just scoffed rolling her eyes as she faced you “Since when do you care?” You didn’t like this defensive side of her, but you knew that loving her means loving her even at her worst

“I always cared, Al-“ getting cut off Allison stood up properly frowning “No you didn’t. You don’t care that Claire’s dead, you don’t care that both my husbands are dead! You don’t care at all!”

She shouted obviously getting irritated by your words even though they were honest. “Allison that’s not true!” You tried to argue back “I care about you and mainly your wellbeing! You need help-“ “I don’t need help! Now get out!” She cut you off once again taking few steps towards you, but you didn’t really take any steps back and stood your ground

“Yes you do! You’re even rumoring yourself to be happy! You’re not alright at all!” You took a deep breath taking few steps towards her as well “Just let me help you!” You looked up at her, but she wasn’t calming down any time soon and you knew that. “And why would you want that?! To impress others with your comforting skills?! Make me feel even worse?!”

She shouted, she knew damn well that she doesn’t mean it and knew that she’s being a bitch right now, but she couldn’t stop. She was hiding her pain and anger deep down inside of her for too long and even though she didn’t want to, she just had to let it out on you. Not ‘cause she wanted to, but ‘cause you were closest and she knew you’d forgive her overtime, plus you understood her and she just had to let everything out despite knowing it’s not heathly for neither of you.

“No! Of course not! Allison I love you and don’t want you to suffer! Please…”

You were more calm at the end, but got confused when she shut up and just stared at you in shock before it hit you that you just confessed

“What?” She asked blinking in confusion, but also a neutral voice “Allison… I love you” you repeated making sure she knows you don’t mean just as friends

“Please don’t… I’ll just lose you too. Stop” she mumbled shaking her head, she couldn’t take another loss

“You won’t lose me” you stood up on your tip-toes and kissed her just shortly and slightly of course, you didn’t wanna scare her. “Now let me help you with your hand” you took her bloody hand and started tending it knowing that Allison isn’t ready for a relationship just yet so you didn’t expect her to say it back right now, but you knew that she did love you.

Klaus Hargreeves

This takes place in season 1

You catch Klaus stealing in the Academy from his father on the funeral day

“Klaus? Wha- what are you doing?” You laughed seeing him under his father’s table where Reginald kept all his work

“Oh Y/N! How nice it is to see youuuuu” He sounded high and he probably was, but then again he had every reason to get high, but that doesn’t mean you approved of it

Klaus quickly reached for a hug which you with a sigh accepted “Klaus you’re high again” you crossed your arms rolling your eyes. “We talked about this”

“But those bitches are everywhere and it’s just so much better” he smiled amd you had to chuckle at his silliness “Give me the drugs” you held out your hand raising eyebrows “Oh you want it too????”

He asked and gave it to you and you just threw it out of the window “What’re you doing?!” He exclaimed with wide eyes “Helping you. Now go wash your face.”

You said clearly pissed off by his behaivor “Y/n! I need those!!!” He whined making you roll your eyes “No, you don’t. You need therapy, along with this whole family of yours” you stated clearly

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N…” He whined “You don’t understand what I’m going through when I’m clean!” He suddenly yelled at you making you raise your eyebrows

“No Klaus, you don’t understand what I’m going through when I see the man I love somewhere begging for drugs instead of trying to get a real help!”

You argued back, but he stopped “What?”

Five Hargreeves

This takes place in season 3

You both didn’t pick the same side when Reginald asked you all who’s for saving the world and who’s against it - you voted for saving the world while he didn’t

“Are you serious?” You looked at Five frowning confused as he stood on the other side. “Five, after all this time of trying to save the world you’re just gonna give up on the only chance we have ‘cause your older you told you so?”

You scoffed shaking your head and he frowned stepping closer to you “Y/N I am doing the right thing. Right, we’ve been trying to save the world this whole time and did we manage to change something? Nein! It’s over and over the same” Five frowned stepping closer to you

Unaware of the small distance between you two you stepped closer too and looked down at him “I’m not just gonna sit here and wait for the world to end with a boy I fell for and see him die. Five just come on and try this! One more time”

You sighed and tried to plea him, but to no vail as he didn’t budge “”Boy I love”? Please don’t bring that cocky shit-” “Maybe we should all calm down, alright?” Viktor tried to diescelate the situation, but failed as you and Five ignored him and kept arguing.

“You think you’re always right, hm? You are a child, you-” However you cut him off with a sneer “A child? That’s rich coming from you” Five took a deep breath and looked up at you his height making it impossible for him to look you straight in the eyes without looking up. “Y/N I love you, but you’re starting to seriously piss me off-“ He shut up as you all realized that another wave of Kugablitz is coming and had to run. Sure you two were gonna have to sort things out

Ben Hargreeves

This takes place in season 2

He got angry ‘cause you keep diapproving of him possesing Klaus’ body

(Btw Y/N can see Ben here)

“Am I talking to Ben or Klaus?” You asked annoyed not seeing Ben anywhere so you just assumed that he posessed Klaus’ body which was sitting on the floor

“Hey Y/N! It’s Ben! God I’m so glad you came I couldn’t find you at the courtyard” he got up and hugged you tightly, but you could still feel that it’s Klaus’ body which wasn’t ideal at all. You didn’t like it and you were over this conversation many times

“Ben… you do realize that I can see you just like Klaus can, right?” You sighed shaking your head in disapproval “But it’s not the same! In a body-“ he starts but you just cut him off

“In any body I can’t see you, but the person whose body it is, Ben” you sighed shaking your head “But Y/N, you don’t understand… being ghost.. it’s as if I’m nothing” He took few steps closer to you, but you just backed up

“Y/N, please just listen… you don’t know what it’s like!” Suddenly he snaps. That’s very out of character of him. “God, Ben. You don’t get it do you?! I don’t love the body you are in, I love you when you’re yourself, Ben!”

You shook your head frowning and andead silence falls in the room and you soon hear him parting from Klaus’ body

“Aw man, I feel like I’ll throw up” Klaus moans and backs up. You ignore him whimpering and just focus on Ben who’s too stunned to speak.

It’s gonna be a long day…

Viktor Hargreeves

This takes place in season 2

Y/N is helping Five look for others so they’d get them all to the suitcase in time, but Viktor insists to go back for Sissy and Harlan

You kept driving around couple of blocks looking for your best friend - Viktor - literally everywhere

Driving on a road leading away from Sissy’s farm you were slowly losing all hope, but for Viktor’s sake and your mental stability’s sake you kept going, you had to find him.

Driving away you saw another car passing by you and Viktor in it. Immediately you stopped in a way that your car - well a stolen car that you claim to be yours - died. Viktor on the other hand stopped slowly

“Viktor? Thank God, where were you?!” You were quick to hug him before he even had a chance to get out of the car properly

“Jesus! Y/N what are you doing here?” Obviously strandled a bit Viktor pulled away and rubbed your shoulder a bit “What’s going on?”

“Five found a way to get back home! No apocalypse or anything like that, we can go back!” You quickly explained and started walking towards your car, but stopped when you realized he wasn’t following “Viktor?” He shifted in his place thinking “I hate to tell you this, but we only have fifteen minutes-“ you started, but he cut you off

“I’m taking Sissy and Harlan” Viktor practically stated “What? Viktor you can’t do that, their disappearance could have major concequences” you shook your head looking back at your watch. 13 minutes.

“What consequences would it create if we’d just take a farm boy and woman with us?” Viktor obviously had enough and he headed back to his car “We don’t have time for that Viktor!” You pulled him by his arm back and he only snatched it away “Viktor don’t” you warned him shaking your head, true you don’t have powers, but he doesn’t have to know that

“What’s so wrong about this? I love Sissy and am not leaving her!” You knew he did. He loves Sissy, but you kidna were in denial. “What?” He looked at you still angry, but more confused now that you’re silent. 2 minutes.

“Sissy isn’t the only one who loves you, you idiot” you said and got into your car, but Viktor stopped you by your hand

“What?”

[dorothylarouge]

Dorothy's Big List of Comic Book Recs - DC Comics Edition

I often get asks about getting into comic books, and how daunting it seems, given the huge back catalog of titles and issues available. I'm here to tell you it doesn't have to be scary! From miniseries that act as good introductions to characters to runs on ongoing titles by individual creators that serve on jumping-on points, there's lots of ways to get into comics without having to have a lot of background knowledge, and I'm going to give you a lot of potential places to start. Please note that this post only covers DC Comics; Marvel and indie lists will follow! Also note that I haven't read everything, and I won't recommend something I haven't read, so a few runs or books some consider must-reads may not be on here. This is based purely on books I have read and enjoy, and that I think are suitable for new readers. I'm also not including books from the Milestone and Wildstorm imprints as they're kind of a separate sphere to me, although some Vertigo books may be included.

SUPERMAN

All-Star Superman by Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely: This is the book that made me a Superman fan. It is an out-of-continuity celebration of Superman and his world, and an exploration of why Superman as a character has endured for nearly a century.

Superman For All Seasons by Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale: A gorgeously-illustrated and Americana-flavored recounting of Superman's early years in Metropolis, anchored narratively by the changing of the seasons.

Superman: Birthright by Mark Waid and Lenil Francis Yu: For my money, the definitive origin story for Superman. Great characterization of the entire supporting cast, including Lex Luthor, make this a perfect entry point into the character and his world.

Action Comics (1939) and Superman (1939) by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster: The earliest Superman stories are still really great, and have a populist edge that many later stories sanded down. They're pulpy and fun and I recommend them!

Action Comics (2011) by Grant Morrison: This run spans issues 1-18, plus a special issue 0, of the series launched as part of DC's mostly-failed 2011 reboot, and covers Superman's early years in this continuity. The early issues bring back some of the edge that was present in the Golden Age comics, and the rest of the run is solid stuff as well. Morrison always comes highly recommended.

Superman: Red and Blue: An athology series that focuses on a broad sampling of Superman's world and supporting cast, written and drawn by various creators.

Action Comics (1939) by Geoff Johns: Specifically, I would say that issues 855 to 870 are a good span to be checking out for Geoff Johns' run on the book. These include some great stories focusing on classic Superman villains such as Bizarro, Toyman, and Brainiac.

Superman Smashes the Klan by Gene Luen Yang and Guruhiru: An adaptation of a classic Superman radio story set in the 1940s and focusing on Superman's place as an immigration narrative. And Superman gets to rough up some Klansmen!

Man and Superman by Marv Wolfman and Claudio Castellini: Another story of Superman's early years, this one focusing on his struggles to adapt to life in the big city after moving from Smallville, as well as his first encounters with Lois Lane and Lex Luthor.

Superman: Up in the Sky by Tom King and Andy Kubert: A lovely self-contained story which demonstrates just how far Superman will go to save a single life.

Superman (1939) by Elliot S! Maggin: This mammoth run spans issues 247 to 400 of the classic title, and includes some fantastic stories such as "Must There Be a Superman?" (issue 247), "The Greatest Green Lantern of All" (issue 257), and "The Living Legends of Superman" (issue 400)

Superman (1939), Adventure Comics (1938) and Action Comics (1939) by Mort Weisinger: This run spans a lot of the Silver Age era of Superman, including Action Comics #241-392, Superman #120-231, and Adventure Comics #247-396. It's a lot of issues, but in those days you can mostly read them in any order since they're pretty self-contained. This run includes a lot of classic villains and stories, as well as the earliest adventures of the Legion of Super-Heroes.

Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow by Tom King and Bliquis Evely: A spacefaring take on a True Grit-style western with gorgeous art, and a definitive story for the Girl of Steel.

Superman’s Pal, Jimmy Olsen (2019) by Matt Fraction and Steve Liber: a madcap romp and a delightful sendup of Silver Age weirdness.

BATMAN

Batman: The Long Halloween and Batman: Dark Victory by Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale: Another Loeb/Sale joint, focusing on Batman's earlier years and the transition of Gotham's underworld from the mob to a coterie of costumed kooks.

Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth by Grant Morrison and Dave McKean: An examination of the facility housing Batman's rogues, and what those rogues symbolize in his world.

Batman (1940) by Dennis O'Neil: This is a classic run which re-established a dark tone for the Dark Knight which has endured to this day. The run spans Batman #224-268, along with a handful of issues of Detective Comics. Among the major developments of this run are the introduction of Ra's al Ghul and his daughter Talia.

Batman: A Lonely Place of Dying by Marv Wolfman, George Perez, and Jim Aparo: The definitive story about why Batman needs Robin. Read it in trade since the story spans both the Batman and New Titans titles.

Batman by Grant Morrison: I'm hesitant to include this because it delves so deep into Batman lore, but it really is essential reading, introducing Damian Wayne along with other concepts. Please do disregard Morrison's frankly appalling characterization of Talia. Read in omnibus format as the run spans multiple titles.

Batman: The Killing Joke by Alan Moore and Brian Bolland: It's cliche at this point but the story still is fantastic and one of the best Joker stories ever written.

Batman: No Man's Land: An epic storyline across many titles dealing with Gotham being cut off from the US after a massive earthquake and Batman's efforts to keep the peace in an abandoned city. Read in trade format.

Batman (2011) by Scott Snyder: This run spans issues 1 through 51 of the New 52 relaunch, and introduces concepts such as the Court of Owls. It's a fun run, including a brief period where Jim Gordon acts as Batman.

Batwoman (2011) by J.H. Williams III and W. Hayden Blackman: A gorgeously-illustrated book about Batman's cousin and her adventures as the Batwoman. Worth reading for the art alone.

Nightwing (1996) by Chuck Dixon: Dixon's a tool but this is still the definitive Nightwing run. This run includes volume 1 of Nightwing, a 4-issue mini, as well as issues 1-70 of volume 2, which establishes Dick's home base of Bludhaven as well as his rogues' gallery.

Detective Comics (1937) by Paul Dini: This run spans issues 821 to 852, and features some great stories by one of the great Batman writers and a co-creator of the classic animated series.

Robin (2021) by Joshua Williamson: A great run that helps to flesh out Damian Wayne's place in the DC Universe.

The Boy Wonder by Juni Ba: A great story with gorgeous art that focuses on Damian Wayne and his relationships with the other members of the Batman Family.

Batgirl (2000): The first series to focus on a Batgirl, specifically Cassandra Cain, the best Batgirl, as she struggles to adapt to life after an abusive childhood being raised as an assassin.

WONDER WOMAN

Wonder Woman (2006) by Gail Simone: Simone's run is the longest that a woman has ever written comics' premiere female superhero, and it's just good comic book fun. The run spans issues 14 to 44.

Wonder Woman (1987) by Phil Jimenez: Jimenez's childhood love of Wonder Woman shines through in his run, which placed a renewed focus on Diana's supporting cast and especially her family. The run spans issues 164 to 188.

Wonder Woman (1942) and Sensation Comics (1942) by William Moulton Marston: Wonder Woman's creator laid down the basics of the character and her world, and those early Golden Age stories are still a great read. They're fun, engaging - and more than a little kinky with hindsight.

Wonder Woman (1987) by Greg Rucka: In the early 21st century, Greg Rucka was The Guy for writing female superheroes, and his run on Wonder Woman is great. It features Diana becoming an ambassador, writing a book, fighting Medusa, and matching wits with Veronica Cale, her own Lex Luthor. The run spans 196-226. I must also mention Wonder Woman: The Hiketeia, also by Rucka, which is a Greek tragedy where Diana finds herself torn between duty and justice.

Wonder Woman Historia: The Amazons by Kelly Sue DeConnick: A beautifully-illustrated story of the Amazons and the Greek goddesses, which lays the foundations for Wonder Woman's world.

Wonder Woman (1987) by George Perez: This run reintroduced Diana after Crisis on Infinite Earths, and the first 25 issues feature Perez's simply-unmatched artwork. The whole run spans the first 62 issues of the book, and serves as a blueprint for most subsequent takes on the character.

THE FLASH

Flash Comics (1940) and All-Flash (1941): The Golden Age Flash and his early stories by his creator Gardner Fox. Must-read if you're interested in Jay Garrick, the first Flash.

Showcase #4, 8, and 13, and The Flash (1959): The Silver Age Flash, Barry Allen, made his debut and early adventures here. Much of the art is by the great Carmine Infantino, and Gardner Fox returned to write some stories. The whole concept of the multiverse debuted in this run.

The Flash (1987) by Mark Waid (as well as Grant Morrison and Mark Millar): This run starts in issue 62 and lasts until 162, with a brief run by Grant Morrison and Mark Millar towards the end. This run is the definitive Flash run, focusing on Barry Allen's protege Wally West maturing in the role of the Flash and establishing himself as the true fastest man alive.

The Flash (1987) by Geoff Johns: This run spans issues 164 to 225, and refocuses the Flash's traditional rogues' gallery, offering modern origins for many of them, while also introducing new foes like Girder, Blacksmith, and a new Reverse-Flash.

The Flash (2016) by Joshua Williamson: This run spans issues 1-88, as well as 750 to 762 of the relaunched volume 1 of the book. I hate the recentering of Barry Allen from 2009 to 2019, but Williamson's run is the most tolerable, and serves as a love letter to the Flash, while also setting the stage for Wally to return as the primary holder of the mantle.

The Flash (2023) by Simon Spurrier: The current run of the Flash, it focuses on Wally as the main Flash and the Flash Family as an ensemble. The extended first arc features a threat to time itself, and goes into some really surreal and experimental territory for a Flash book.

Impulse (1995) by Mark Waid, et al.: A more lighthearted and comedic companion book to Waid's run on Flash, this book focuses on Bart Allen, Barry's grandson, who was raised in the future and has the attention span of a goldfish, as well as his relationship with the zen guru of speed, Max Mercury.

GREEN LANTERN

The Green Lantern (2018) by Grant Morrison: A police procedural starring Hal Jordan that gets into some pretty freaky territory, with gorgeous interiors by Liam Sharp.

Green Lanterns (2016) by Sam Humphries: A buddy cop type title focusing on the team of Simon Baz and Jessica Cruz. Humphries' run spans the first 32 issues of the book.

Far Sector by N.K. Jemisin and Jamal Campbell: A murder mystery in space which establishes a new Green Lantern, Jo Mullein. Super easy to get ahold of since it was rereleased as part of DC's Compact Comics line of $9.99 trades.

Green Lantern/Green Arrow (1970) by Dennis O'Neil and Neal Adams: This run brought a social conscience to comics as Green Arrow was reinvented as a left-winger and a man of the 60s counterculture, joining Green Lantern on a quest across America. The run spans issues 76 to 89 of the book.

Green Lantern (1990) by Ron Marz. Marz's run starts in issue 48, and sees the Green Lantern paragon Hal Jordan descend into darkness before being replaced as defender of Earth by Kyle Rayner. The run lasts until issue 125, and as Kyle is my favorite Lantern I have a fondness for it.

Green Lantern (2005) 1-67 and (2011) 0-20 by Geoff Johns: Johns brought Hal Jordan back as the main GL, and his run expanded the world of Green Lantern by introducing the emotional spectrum. His run is the basis for most Green Lantern lore going forward, and is pretty essential reading.

Green Lantern: War Journal by Phillip Kennedy Johnson and Montos: A 12-issue series featuring John Stewart as he ventures into space to fight a dark force corrupting life in the galaxy. The new definitive John Stewart run.

TEAMS AND TEAM-UPS

JLA by Grant Morrison, Mark Waid, Joe Kelly, et al.: This was a back-to-basics approach to the Justice League with a core group of characters. Morrison's run on the book is probably the best, but Waid and Kelly also bring in some good stories.

Justice League of America (2007) by Brad Meltzer and Dwayne McDuffie: Another relaunch of the time, this time with a large roster inspired by the classic 1970s era of the League. Some great stories in this run, including a crossover with the Milestone characters.

JSA (1999) by Geoff Johns, Paul Levitz: The first team in comics was relaunched in the 90s by Geoff Johns, who established the Justice Society as a family first, later bringing in the Marvel Family for some great stories fleshing out Black Adam's character.

Justice Society of America (2007) by Geoff Johns: Johns' second run on the JSA is a continuation of the first, with a focus on legacy and new heroes reclaiming the mantles of Golden Age heroes. Introduces the delightful Maxine Hunkel as the wind-powered Cyclone.

New Teen Titans by Marv Wolfman and George Perez: Lightning in a bottle. This book likely saved DC after the disastrous DC Implosion. The best Titans run of all time, quality of art and writing that has never been recaptured with this team. If you loved the cartoon as a kid you will love this book.

Young Justice by Peter David and Todd Nauck: For all intents and purposes, the Teen Titans for the 90s generation. Funny, heartfelt, with great cartoony art by Nauck.

Doom Patrol (1987) by Grant Morrison, Rachel Pollack: A truly, wonderfully weird tale of the most off-beat superheroes of all, with themes of identity, life, and art woven throughout.

The Terrifics by Jeff Lemire, Gene Luen Yang: At a time when Marvel was treating the Fantastic Four like dirt, DC put out their own version, which captures the wonderous adventure of a Silver Age science fiction book with some great character work from a great core cast. A thoroughly underrated title.

Suicide Squad (1987) by John Ostrander: An often darkly-humorous book about a team of second-string supervillains coerced into doing the government's dirty work. The definitive Suicide Squad run.

Villains United (2005), Secret Six (2006), and Secret Six (2008) by Gail Simone: A group of supervillains forced together by circumstance and find themselves working together as mercenaries. A real found family of freaks type of situation.

Legion of Super-Heroes by Paul Levitz and Keith Giffen: This run spans issues 282 to 313 of the 1980 book, and 1 to 63 of the 1984 book. Includes some of the greatest Legion stories, including the Great Darkness Saga.

Birds of Prey (1999) by Gail Simone: This run covers issues 56 to 108, and focuses on female heroes kicking ass, basically Charlie's Angels with superheroes.

Batman/Superman: World's Finest by Mark Waid and Dan Mora: A team-up book between Batman, Superman, and the DC Universe, set earlier in their careers.

Justice League International (1987) by Keith Giffen, J.M. DeMatteis, and Kevin Maguire: As much a workplace comedy as a superhero book, this is a very different take on the Justice League, from the time when "bwa-ha-ha" ruled the DCU.

THE FOURTH WORLD

The Fourth World Epic by Jack Kirby: Read in omnibus or trade format. The first stories of the Fourth World from the King of Comics, Jack Kirby. The story spans Kirby's run on Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen, The New Gods, The Forever People, and Mister Miracle, and ends in The Hunger Dogs.

Orion (2000) by Walt Simonson: A follow-up to Jack Kirby's epic, this book focuses on Orion, the son of Darkseid, and his quest to vanquish his father once and for all.

Bug! the Adventures of Forager by Lee Allred and Mike Allred: With Mike Allred's striking artwork, this book serves as a love letter to Kirby's time at DC Comics.

Mister Miracle (2017) by Tom King and Mitch Gerads: A slightly-psychedelic take on the Fourth World, focusing on Scott Free and his family with the backdrop of a bloody war unfolding between New Genesis and Apokolips

New Gods (1989) by Mark Evanier: This was a return to form for the New Gods, who hadn't had a lot of new stories to themselves since Kirby left DC, and it's a great read.

AND THE REST

Green Arrow: The Longbow Hunters (1987) and Green Arrow (1988) issues 1-80, by Mike Grell: Probably the definitive Green Arrow run. Political, edgy, and mature.

Animal Man (1988) by Grant Morrison: A fun and surreal series of adventures featuring one of the DCU's unsung heroes.

Booster Gold (1986) by Dan Jurgens: A Reagan-era story of a money-obsessed celebrity superhero rediscovering the altruistic spirit of a true hero buried deep within him.

Zatanna: Bring Down the House by Mariko Tamaki and Javier Rodriguez: A quest through the realms of magic as a reluctant witch gets caught in the crossfire of a mystical war.

Amethyst, Princess of Gemworld (1983, 1985, and 1987): For fans of magical girls and sword and sorcery, this is a must-read. A girl from Earth discovers she is the princess of a mystical realm and embarks on a quest to save it.

The Question (1987) by Dennis O'Neil: A grounded, philosophical story of a man trying his best to make things better in a city abandoned to corruption and decay.

Monkey Prince by Gene Luen Yang and Bernard Chang: Drawing on Chinese mythology, this book focuses on an unlikely superhero with connections to the monkey king, Sun Wukong.

Blue Beetle (2006) by John Rogers and Keith Giffen: Giffen leaves after issue 10, but Rogers continues until issue 25, and the rest of the volume is pretty decent as well. It establishes Jaime Reyes as the Blue Beetle, and if the cards had been better he could have easily become DC's answer to Spider-Man. Ah, well. It's always nice when he gets a book, and this is probably the best one.

Galaxy: The Prettiest Star by Jadzia Axelrod and Jess Taylor: a YA graphic novel featuring a transgender alien princess. What's not to like?

Hawkworld (1989 and 1990): A science fiction epic of Thanagar, world of the hawks. A great read on its own, but it unfortunately did a lot of damage to the continuity of the Hawkman family of characters.

Hawkgirl (2023) by Jadzia Axelrod and Amancay Nahuelpan: A fun little miniseries focusing on Kendra Saunders moving to Metropolis and having to deal with the trauma and hardship of her past. Guest starring Galaxy from that other book!

Starman (1994) by James Robinson: A grungy, Gen X book about legacy and what we leave behind, with plenty of hooks for the new reader to investigate regarding the Golden Age superheroes.

The Power of Shazam! by Jerry Ordway: The post-Crisis take on Captain Marvel and the Marvel family. A great read, and the last great run for the classic versions of these characters.

Sandman (1989) by Neil Gaiman. Obligatory Neil Gaiman is a piece of shit out of the way, his Sandman book is a beautiful and at times horrifying read, and its importance as a story manages to outweigh my disdain for its creator.

Swamp Thing (1982) by Alan Moore and Steve Bissette: Moore's run begins in issue 19 and ends in issue 64. This is the definitive Swamp Thing run, which set the standard for all to follow. It's a creepy and often touching story which remains some of Moore's best work in the medium.

[chefkids]

As someone with a PhD in the bear, how do you think s4 is going to play out??? (storyline wise)

Episode 1 will be the review, unless Chris decides to get all artsy and makes another montage flashback episode. I think this is when we see everyone at home reading the new review, and Natalie on the phone when they're discussing it with Computer at the restaurant. The red sauce photo feels so ominous, could be a flashback, could be them making braciole again, could be for Mikey’s pasta recipe, or Donna’s sunday gravy. Either way I think it will mostly be just them in the kitchen and Syd and Carmy talking out back talking, and then maybe end with their family meal before service.

Episode 2 is written by Catherine who also wrote Ceres, Sundae, and Napkins; so I feel like it might be a more Sydney focused episode again. We see her making a pasta dish. I think she will talk with Shapiro again in this episode and tell him about The Bear's deadline and ask him to let her stay until the money runs out. I think this is also when Nat comes to The Bear with the baby and talks to Carmy. Maybe also the Sweeps focused episode with his wine tasting lessons and baseball. Tina making pasta at home might also play into her working with Sydney on a dish.

Episode 3 is written by Rene Gube, he also wrote Ceres and Bolognese. He also is one of the Ever workers. I think this will be when the Ever crew joins them and we get some more shennanigans of them at the restaurant. Shapiro offered her a job because he tried her scallop dish, which was actually originally derived from her 7 fishes dish rendition. I think Sydney will be trying to learn more about what Shapiro is actually like from the ever crew and figure out why they made aren’t working with him again. The delivery robot plotline will probably also happen at some point and we'll see more of Ebra at the sandwich window.

Episode 4 is written by Ayo and Lionel and directed by Janicza. The episode has onions, remember when they stole Syd's onions in Season 1? I think this episode will focus on her trying out new recipes and looking for inspiration and Marcus also trying to do that. I think this was when they were spotted filming at a grocery store together. So Syd and Marcus maybe collaborating on a dish together, I think Luca will be here too at some point. I think Marcus still hasn't perfected his Violet at this point but will in the next episode. Luca also mentioned his sister, so maybe they'll actually give Sydney a friend that's a girl for once.

Episode 5 written by Karen Joseph Adcock. She wrote Sheridan and Sundae. So probably Sydney focused. The White Violet Dish. Luca will be there this episode, we see him trying the dish and shaking hand with Marcus in a trailer. The green reminds me of the shiso gelee they made together. I have my whole theory on the violet dish. i think it will be part of what is Carmy's epiphany. I think Luca, Marcus, and Carmy all interacting might bring up the Sydney thread the all have. Marcus asked her out, Luca was interested in her, Carmy knows none of this. I think the wheels in Carmy's head might start turning in regards to how he feels about Syd if he gets this new to him information. I think Sydney will also be visiting the location of Shapiro's restaurant at some point so maybe this episode that will happen while they're doing that.

Episode 6 written by Chris. scary. He loves to be in charge of the miserable eps. The blue coating those merengues reminds me of the blue light from the fridge and Claire scenes. I think he will either have his fight talk with her to try and settle things before the wedding in this episode, or it will be dragged in to the very end. I think this will also be the episode that Marcus goes to the movie theater and we might get another segment like the magic filmmaking thing that subtly reveals what is going on. Richie also goes to the theater to watch play at some point in the season. The first episode of the show he was talking about Eva’s recital, so maybe she'll have another dance maybe a midsummer night's dream. That evil notebook of his will be revealing a lot things again, I think someone else will open it and read it. Maybe Carmy, Syd, or Marcus.

Episode 7 the wedding. written by Joana. So you know it’s going to be good. So much happening, everyone talking to everyone. I think it will be a good mix of chaos and happiness. I think it won’t be like Fishes. it will be like the anti fishes. If anyone is fighting it’s Carmy and Claire. I think Richie is a bit nervous and leaning on syd to be his peace. but i think everything will go well. I think Carmy will see Donna and probably run away and panic, but will find her again and speak to her after calming down, probably with Syd's help. They’ve been hiding Syd and Carmy interacting at the wedding cause I just know he’s going to be acting abnormal about her. I think they will have a special moment and I think Sydney will realize she doesn’t want to quit at all.

Episode 8 cooking some beef. This is at the bear. I think this is the alleyway fight day. I think after the wedding Sydney is talking about "the one" cause she wants to tell Shapiro she is staying but doesn’t know how to. I think Carmy will find out about the offer this day and that’s what their fight is about. I think they will end the fight on good terms with her telling him she wants to stay. 

Episode 9 Carmy cooks for Donna. He’s going to bring her the box from The Bear basement. We are probably all going to cry talking about Mikey. Eva’s birthday was also hinted at happening after the wedding in S3, so maybe that will happen at some point.

Episode 10 The Bear at night. Unfortunately my gut is telling me they will drag that Claire fight until the end. I don't even think she's mad about what he said in the fridge I think he "lied" about something else, maybe something goes down at the wedding with Syd and Carmy and she sees. I think this is his marathon day clock running out run. We see him at The Bear about to go in the fridge, then running towards Claire's, but he also runs other places around the city. They have 60 days and the wedding is 30 days from where we left off in S3. I think Carmy will settle his last issue and end things with Claire and then go find Sydney and ask her to be his partner for real and sign the agreement. We ended S3 with him at night not making it to Syd's, so maybe now he'll finally make it.

[lokideservesahug]

A Taste Of Victory

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Pairing: Jenson Button x reader (implied), Mark Webber x reader (implied).

Warnings: Jenson is a bit of a dick to reporters, sexism,

Notes: This isn't even the big peice of writing that started all of this but that is coming soon... And the photos may not be aesthetic but they sure as anything are time accurate (even using photos from the specific days). I tried to make sure of it (as well as the dates) to give you good visuals so I hope at least someone appreciates it. Also I tried a new header format. Please tell me your thoughts

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N, the newest 2009 rookie who's also...a woman? The media are desperate to pick her apart and see how well she'll do so let's have a look:

Series Masterlist

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Y/L/N residence, 7th September 2008

You sit back and sip happily on your coke bottle. Any minute now. Any minute and your phone will be blowing up. Or at least that's what Frank had told you (you still can't get over the fact that THE Frank Williams insists that you call him that, or that you'll be working for him next year). You focus back on the image on your screen,

Lewis Hamilton in his McLaren. Of course a favourite to win this season especially after his incredible performances even from his rookie season. And despite trying to clear your mind of all bias for next year, you can't help but wish that he might win. He seems like a nice guy and it's a better him than some of the others. As Hamilton reaches the ever famous, ever gorgeous Eau Rouge, the image changes, the camera focuses on the white, green and red Honda of Jenson Button. He swerves slightly, performing a certainly showy move especially for just FP2.

Despite the numbers not being as much as Hamilton supporters, some F1 fans are putting their money on Button winning the championship instead. You scoff at the thought alone. Goodness knows Formula 1 doesn't need another cocky playboy as the world champion and goodness knows Jenson Button appears to be exactly that. Gosh why couldn't a more sensible seeming driver win say Mark webber or even Fernando Alonso again. You internally scold yourself, these men will be your co workers in only a matter of months. Just the thought makes you feel a matter of emotions; which you are quickly pulled out of as the commentators voice grows louder. You watch as Fernando Alonso puts in a particularly fast lap and the more you think, you can't help but feel almost a bit...nervous.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Albert Park paddock, 27th March 2009

You hold your head up high as you enter the paddock. Bright flashes of cameras shine in your peripheral but you try your hardest to just keep your head down and focus on getting to the Williams hospitality. You glance up, taking in the sights surrounding you. The bright Australian sun paints the paddock? that you've been so long awaiting, in such a light, that you finally feel a sense if fulfilment- and you're not even in the car yet.

Too entranced by the sights around you, you fail to notice the person just in front of you. You're met with the sight of a crisp yet untucked shirt. You panick, instantly going to apologise when you meet the eyes of the person you bumped into. "Woah, careful there." Jenson Button. Oh gosh. "Someone needs to slow down." He laughs and you assume his enjoyment is coming from your misfortune. Now you'd never thought you were the type to become speechless but as you're finally met with the first driver on your official Formula 1 debut, you can't help but panick even more, squeak out an apology and speed walk towards Williams.

Gosh, you wanted today to be perfect and here you are crashing into people already. What a clumsy fool you must look like. You groan as you realise what you've done.

Now, like any unfamiliar place, you find that it was pretty easy to get yourself lost, even in place with such an easy concept (curse Melbourne event planners for trying to make too much go on at once and make it confusing). Most people also don't expect to get recognised in an unfamiliar place even if it's where you work (and your hiring was widely broadcast).

"Hey, are you alright?" You turn to look at the Autralian man whose voice, up until now, you'd only heard through a screen. You meet the eyes of Mark Webber and smile shyly. "Hi, sorry to be a bother but do you know how to get to the Williams hospitality." He just gives you a small grin, clearly not seeing your lack of knowledge as incompetence or anything like that "Of course, follow me and welcome to the paddock by the way." And as Mark leads you away, you can't help hut feel glad you'll be seeing more of him (and not just for how polite and kind he is).

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Post race interviews, 29th March 2009

After you step down from the podium, and your team has dispersed (after all congratulating you, some even with tears in their eyes). You walk away to a quieter part of the paddock to gather your thoughts. You go behind the tows of hospitalities only to find Mark Webber hunched over. You aobseve him, he's sporting a serious, disappointed and almost worried looking expression as he looks out into the distance. You walk up to him and place a soft hand on his shoulder in an attempt to gently coax him out of his thoughts and to try and offer some comfort

Without a word, he turns to look at you and his shoulders raise slightly. You give him a small smile and sit down next to him. You both sit next to each other in silence, sharing a comforting moment, silently offering support and understanding to one and other.

The air shifts (and you try to not get to excited at the prospect that your presence alone may have somewhat comforted him). The air shifts, this time it isn't tainted by negative emotions but rather fatigue and acoplmisent on your part. The both of you probably look like a true sight, disheveled, tired and sweaty, however there's a warmth between you both as you share a brief moment of tranquility amongst the chaos.

Someone calls your name and the moment is broken. You nod to Mark who gives you a small smile back and a short "Well done for today." As you smile at him and walk off to go to interviews.

You pass some fans, signing their Williams caps and exchanging excited "Well done!" And "Thank you." Pleasantries. You revel in the post win glow. It's one thing to win in your rookie season, but to win your first race? Now that's just unheard of. You hurriedly sit down in the assigned seat for you and wait for the other few straglers to arrive. You look down, placing your hands on your lap in an attempt to thwart the nerves threatening to bubble.

Brawn driver, Rubens Barrichello is the second to arrive followed not long after by Jenson Button. Rubens gives you an easy smile and yet another congratulations. You feel incredibly fortunate to have you welcomed so quickly and easily by him over the past few days of testing. You return his smile with one of your own and a small wave.

When Jenson finally sits down, an FiA representative gives the 3 of you a short introduction and then begins. Quite a few people had warned you before you entered this room that many people would want to speak to you, but you didn't expect such an onslaught.

A short, bald man stands up and adresses you. "So Miss Y/L/N, you just managed to win your debut race, which is an incredible feat but how much of it do you think is down to the car." You try not to take offence to the question, it was a pretty basic question afterall (even if it was worded a bit harshly.) You let out a small laugh. "I think it's a joint effort really. The car was looking really good this weekend but I also have a history of running fairly well at this track." The reporter nods his head and continues. "So do you think this victory will encourage other women to become involved in F1?" You nod excitedly at him. "Oh I hope so. I hope it's encouragement to all women out there that weren't sure if they could." The reported thanks you and sits down.

A few more reporters ask questions. 90% of which are adressesdfor you and a few others adresses to the men beside you (mainly to Rubens and Jenson about Braen and its last minute establishment).

This time, a slightly more lean, dark haired reporter speaks up, once again directing his questions towards you. "Y/N, how did your fellow drivers perceive your and your entrance into F1?" You nearly furrow your brows at the biazzre question (Well it's possibly bizzare that it's adressed to you). "I uh don't know. Why don't you ask them." You gesture to the drivers either side of you as the reporter repeats his question to the other pilots. "Gentlemen, your thoughts on the newest addition to the paddock?" Rubens gives you an encouraging pat on the shoulder mid sentence "She's obviously fast and I think she's managed to impress us all." The reporter nods to Jenson; and despite your belief that he's he's too cocky for his own good, you can't help but feel a bit excited and a bit anxious to hear his repsonse. "Her lap times were phenomenal during the race." You smile at his words, maybe he wasn't as bad as you thought. However, he continues "I think my only criticism I have of her is that she seems to smile less than Kimi." The reporter smirks as you lower your eyeline slighty. "Yeah and she's much easier on the eyes than Kimi." The room erupts into low laughs as you feel shame and embarrassment pool in your gut.

The reporters continue to ask a few questions that you don't pay too much attention to as you nearly get complety lost in your thoughts. One asks Jenson if he thinks you have the potential for the championship. He laughs as he awnsers "There's no denying that she's fast. But she's in a Williams, she's not going to win the championship." You bite your tongue at Jenson's words and what you think is a jab at you (not realising the true intention if insulting his old team).

Yet another reporter asks you a familiar question along the lines if how exactly you think you managed to win. Fed up being in a room with a bunch of old men, trying to pick you apart and insult you with the same few questions just worded differently, your resolve finally snaps.

"Well not that anyone is caring to ask, but I've done this track a million times over. I've practised again and again and again to get my performance perfect yet no one is congratulating me on how well I went around that track. Brawn were amazing today and I'm sure they will be in the future as well but please dont let that take away from what I've done today." You shuffle back in your chair slightly, feeling a bit uncomfortable under the stares but stay strong, unbreaking (and not noticing the stare of admiration coming from the British driver to your left and never knowing the love filled look of another Australian pilot, watching on a screen not far away).

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Top Gear Studio, May 2009

You listen anxiously as Jeremy Clarkson introduces you. Yes, Jeremy Clarkson. As he shouts your name, the camera pans to you and you walk forward, shaking Jeremy's hand and sitting down in the green, faux leather sofa.

"Now obviously I want to ask the obvious..." He speaks over the crowd's quietening bustle and you expect the next question to be one you've hears bwfore. About your gender, you- "What on Earth have you done to that Williams to make it so good?" You laugh, the familiar humour of the Top Gear host you've only ever seen on a screen putting you at ease.

"Well I don't know but maybe its because I'm far more polite to the car than other drivers." Jeremy smiles at your words and invites you into light conversation about you finally being viewed as a serious title contender. The two of you continue until you hit more general off-track talk "So, how much do you train and have you managed to find enough time to see your friends and family. Because some people have such an odd view on things like that." You let out a dramatic sigh. "Gosh they're making me train so much. More than just once a day and there are so many regimes that I can't keep track of anymore. But family wise, well I spend far less time with them than I do do training, I can tell you that much." The audience laughs which encourages you to continue. "I see my friends and family in-between weekends when I can and sometimes they'll even come to races. But gosh. I feel awful saying this." Jeremy leans forward slightly "No, go on..." Your smile becomes a bit embarrassed as your cheeks warm. "Well even on free weekends, with how crowded the paddock can be, I'll come home and just want to be alone." Jetemy shakes his head. "Well that makes sense. But you're in a very crowded space all weekend, does that mean that you've you've asked out by a lot of guys throughout the season so far?" Your eyes widen widen the insinuation. At your lack of instant response, Jeremy clarifies, "Come on! Gorgeous girl such as yourself in such a male dominated sport, I bet loads of men and probably even some drivers too have asked you out." You quickly deny the claims and the two of you move on to your lap times in their old car but you don't miss the way your mind flashed with the image of a certain dark haired Red Bull driver as Jeremy asked his previous question.

>To be aired 28 June<

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

You huff out a low sigh. If you overthink today anymore, you think you might be sick. Your phone pings. You know you shouldn't have it on you but it has helped to keep you entertained as you wait. You look down and see a text from Mark. His text, wishing you good luck makes you smile and you shoot him a small thanks and silence your phone as you hear footsteps behind you.

"Are you ready?" You turn you head and nod to your future teammate as Michael Schumacher steps forward. "Question is, are you old man?" Your words make him smile and your nerves ease slightly. "I don't think I can ever be ready for something like this. But the more important thing is you." He places a caring hand on your shoulder.

If you told your child self, or heck even yourself a year ago that you're friends and future teammates with 7-time world Champion Michael Schumacher, you think you'd have laughed at yourself until tears streamed down your face. But in recent months and more specifically recent weeks, the two of you have been getting much closer. Michael offering you advice, you offering great support on current drivers habits firsthand as a warning for next season. And you even met Michael's family a month or so ago; them nearly adopting you into their clan.

A woman with headset approaches you both and taps you on the shoulder, "A minute to go." She gives you a small thumbs up and walks away, mumbling into her headset. You give her an uncertain nod as Michael pats your shoulder again. "Go out and show them what you've got kid and I'll see you out there." You give him a nervous smile and as you hear a distant shout of your name, you pull yourself together and pull your face into an excited expression, ready for the reaction to your announcement and overjoyed to have a front row seat to people's reactions to your teammate.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

You sit alone in a booth of a bustling club. Loud music nearly deafening but you'd take it any day over the continuous commentary you heard at track. You don't know how many time you can hear "It looks like the title fight is over. Y/L/N's engine is overheating and she's slowing down. It looks like Jenson Button may be champion." Without feeling sick especially when it's directly followed by your voice on the team radio, voice cracking during an apology as your mechanics tell me to back off to cool the engine.

You think of the image of Jenson's Brawn overtaking you and pulling futher into the distance; the sight of not one but two Red Bulls overtaking to fight a battle that should be yours. A voice cuts through your thoughts. You look up, meeting the eyes of the person speaking. "Are you alright?" You're surprised that Jenson came to speak to you, especially after his victory. Gosh in your vulnerable state, you even think that he might not be too bad. How silly of you. You give him a gentle nod (clearly not enough to convince him). He gestures towards the seat next to you "Is it alright if I sit here?" You nod, not Trusting your voice in this moment. "Well-" "You w-" You finally crack a smile as you speak at the same moment. He gestures to you "Sorry, you go." You smile at him. "Well done Jenson you gave a great drive this season." You expect him to smirk, to revel in your compliments but instead he just gives you a soft smile and a shake of his head. "Don't be silly. That championship would be yours if Williams ever learnt how to build cars properly. But thank you." You look down at his words, all of your emotions finally coming to the forefront. "Hey, you look like you need to be cheered up. You don't need to feel like this going into next season..." He passes and his brows furrow. You look up at Jenson who is now standing and for the first time all year, allow yourself to admire him. The way that his still slightly hair drops as some strands stick to his forehead. "You-" He furrows his brows again and then laughs freely. "Oh yeah, you're taking my job. Well Miss Y/L/N, he grabs your hand and pulls you up from your seat, Elliciting a small noise from you. "Then we need to dance to celebrate and to cheer you up." You just shake your head and follow him, finally smiling as you follow his foolish adrenaline (and probably slightly alcohol-fueled) giggly nature; placing down your phone and missing the texts.

Mark Webber: Hey Well done on today and I'm sorry what happened. Hoping to speak to you at some point later...

M.S: Hey Hase, well done on today, you drove so well I hope you know that. Corinna and I wanted to invite you to our...

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Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

As always, likes, reblogs and especially feedback is always welcome!

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @mysoulispainted @leclercings @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @lozzamez3 @stinkyjax @marymustdie @littlesatanicassholebitch @mehrmonga @insanedeathwish @ems-alexandra @a-disturbing-self-reflection @cherry-piee @thatgirlmj

[vaspider]

Hey, I have a slightly cheeky request - I happened to come across your answer on mediachomp about the history of American recipes. I don't know if you remember it, it must have been at least 3 years ago. Anyway, you described why recipes in America in the 50s/60s were so Jell-O-heavy and horrible.

Firstly, thanks for the history lesson, I found it really interesting!

Anyway, you also talked about your grandmother and how she made 2 pies for dinner every day of the year. And that you have all her recipes 😉

And idk - I love to cook, I love to cook traditional recipes from all countries - and this short description of your grandmother has given me appetite 😅

Would you mind telling me 1 or 2 of your favourite recipes?

Well, first of all, that's... not my post. That's a media aggregator that is actually stealing my words and @steampunkette's & @thestuffedalligator's and putting ads on them and making money off of them. I don't know how the others feel about this but this is just wholesale theft for the purpose of making ad revenue, and while it did direct you back to me, most people don't actually come back and interact with writers when our words get hijacked for the direct ad revenue benefit of others.

I'm not angry with you about this - I'm explaining. Taking a whole long thing someone wrote and just going "hunh, interesting," at the start and then making revenue off of it isn't actually okay. A lot of writers file a lot of DCMA takedown notices over shit like this. So, like, thank you for letting me know, but this isn't a fun positive thing to find out. It's... annoying.

Anyway, I'm not doing a lot of baking or cooking at the moment because I had a hysterectomy 9 days ago, so, have a low-spoons recipe.

1 box Trader Joe's gluten-free gnocchi

3 medium Tupperware containers (mine are 8" x 4" x 2") with airtight lids

6-8 T butter, divided into thirds and cut into chunks

Parmesan cheese, grated (green-bottle shake cheese works great)

Onion powder, garlic powder, salt, and other herbs (parsley, sage, thyme, oregano) to taste

A small bag of spinach

Boil gnocchi. While it's boiling, divide the butter and spinach between the containers. Tear the spinach roughly. Add seasonings and shaky cheese to the containers. Put at least 1/3c shaky cheese in there, maybe 1/2c. Trust me.

When the gnocchi are done, drain them and immediately divide them between the containers. Put the lids on loosely, put all 3 containers in the microwave at once if you can, and microwave for 30s. This is just to make sure the butter fully melts during the next bit.

Close the lids firmly and shake the everloving shit out of them. Preferably don't do this all yourself, give the other 2 containers to whoever else you're feeding and let them shake their own.

The starch from the gnocchi will combine with the cheese and spices and make a really easy alfredo-style sauce. The spinach will wilt. You will have a meal with carbs, veggies, and protein in about 5 minutes that feels a lot more elaborate than the work it took.

It ain't multiple pies a day, but it'll feed you.

[rowie264]

So lets talk about CaitVi and "show don't tell" bullshit and why it doesn't work

No matter how many posts I saw on this topic, the arguments in defense of Caitlyn's behavior are always the same - she didn't have to apologize out loud, because apologies would sound empty and she already apologized through her actions, namely:

betrayed Ambessa

let Jinx go

gave Kiramman's seat in the council to Sevika

Before we go into the analysis of these actions, I will tell you why this logic does not work and just sounds like an excuse. You see, if you really love a person, then you will apologize both verbally and through actions. "Her love language is action" is the logic of romantic novels about abusers' love interests. "Actions are louder than any words" I agree, but in a healthy loving relationship you should talk to each other. If you fucked up you must first apologize, and then prove through actions the words you have said.

Next, the actions themselves.

1) She betrayed Ambessa, went to war, lost an eye and almost died.

This has nothing to do with her relationship with Vi. Caitlyn would have betrayed Ambessa anyway (she didn't trust her, and if Caitlyn hadn't been prescribed a complete idiot this season, she would have guessed Ambessa's intentions earlier ((Caitlyn from season 1 could))). And the fact that she betrayed Ambessa, thereby protecting Warwick/Vander, it's just a coincidence. If Warwick hadn't been Vi's father, Caitlyn would still have had to betray Ambessa, because she "doesn't care about Piltover," according to Caitlyn herself. If she betrayed Ambessa just because Warwick was Vi's father, then this makes the whole arc of Caitlyn's dictatorship absolutely idiotic, because it looks like meeting her ex was the impetus for betrayal, and it just looks pathetic. The fact that she went to war against Ambessa does not work as an arc of redemption. This is literally her job - Caitlyn is the head of enforcers, and Piltover don't have an army. You can say that she doesn't have to go out on her own, just because she's general… but no. Ambessa fought alongside her soldiers, and if Caitlyn hadn't done the same, it would have mowed down the spirit of the enforcers. "Why is the enemy's general fighting with the soldiers, and ours is hiding behind our backs?" something like that. You can also say that she might not have accepted Zaunites into the ranks of enforcers, but I'll say nope. The Noxians had a real army of experienced fighters, and Piltover just had trained cops. Of course, they recruited Zaunites, because this is at least some additional support for your green army. It doesn't mean that she changed her mind about them being animals)

2) Let Jinx go

I love this argument, really. In the eyes of CaitVi ardent defenders, it's the most "weighty", so to speak. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but this is not the case, because you (like the entire 2nd season) do not think about the consequences of this act. Jinx's disappearance could not have gone unnoticed. There should have been an investigation. Yes, they had preparations for the war, but at least a couple of days passed before the arrival of Ambessa, and for a good week or more - although I don't think the writers thought much about it, no one will notice that creating a new uniform for your army should take a long time, right?)

But back to Jinx's escape. There are three options here:

there is a rat among the enforcers - and this problem should be solved DESPITE the approaching war, because the presence of a rat can greatly affect the war itself

zaunite got in and freed Jinx - cool, the enforcers are again exposed as incompetent, not to mention Caitlyn herself, because she is the Sheriff and is responsible for whole organization

Jinx somehow stole the key - that is, someone who did not do their job well enough, and should be fired + Caitlyn should also answer for this, because - repeat this with me - she is the head of the enforcers and let escape most wanted criminal.

In any of the options, the culprit must be found and punished, because the disappearance of the most wanted criminal who killed members of your government is too serious a matter. Maybe not during the war, but after that it should definitely be investigated. If you want to tell me that Caitlyn either doomed some random enforcer, or covered her tracks using her position… I have some bad news for you guys - this is not good for her redemption arc and her character in general.

3) She gave Kiraman's seat in the council to Sevika

It's a very generous gesture… but useless if you think about it for at least 5 seconds. In the Piltover council, everything is decided by vote, and Zaun literally has one hand (pun intended). Sevika will literally not be able to oppose anything with her one voice. Besides, if you think that after the war Piltover will treat the Zaunites better because of their help, then you are naive. At best, they can send some money/food/clean water as a token of gratitude, but this is the maximum. As soon as Zaun demands at least something, they will be denied it, because the advisers will primarily be concerned about the benefits for themselves, their Clans and Piltover as a whole. Caitlyn, as the counselor's daughter, couldn't have been unaware of this. If she really didn't know… Well, choose, either she's stupid, or (if she knew) she didn't give a damn about this Zaun of yours and spitted on it from the height of the Hextech gates.

As a result, everything she has done is not an indicator to "show, dont tell." Everything that has been shown only makes Caitlyn's character either incredibly stupid or a complete hypocrite and abuser.

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Knightmare In Toronto

Chapter 1: First Meetings

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You awoke to a scream.

Having just laid down for a midday nap after an arduous night shift, one can imagine the irritation you felt as you shot up from your place on the couch, grumbling groggily like an old person.

"I swear to fucking- Who the fuck are you?!"

That is, until you caught sight of the screamer: a short, medievally-dressed man who looked like he had accidentally wandered in from the Renaissance Faire or escaped from the jousting pits of the Medieval Times restaurant. A large sword sheathed in a blue scabbard hung from his back, which was why you scrambled up, grabbed a pillow, and brandished it at this medieval home invader. "Answer me!"

To his credit, the man raised his hands and backed away, his expression shocked and apprehensive. Good. "I- Ma'am- Where am I?!"

"What does it look like?" You snarled. "This is my house, dipshit!"

"There's got to be some misunderstanding," as he stammered an explanation, you took inventory of his increasingly odd outfit. His shirt-... tunic(?) looked like he had taken four pieces of different colored fabric and sewn them together, then slapped some brown tights and jester boots on and called it a day. He was also really short, no more than five foot two if you were being generous. "The portal never drops us in houses, always clearings or streams, but that was only once-"

What the fuck?

"Are you on drugs?"

The man blinked, looking at you like you'd grown a second head. "I can assure you I'm not-"

"Then why are you in my house?" You asked cautiously, lowering your pillow just a smidge. He didn't seem the type to chop you up and bury your bones, but one could never be too careful.

"Well, there's this portal-"

"Drugs."

"-No. But it usually drops us off outside," you watched apprehensively as he ran a hand through his stick-straight blonde hair, which was long enough that the only thing holding it back was the thick green bandana around his head. "Would you be so kind as to tell me what region we're in?"

...Region? This guy really was weird, but at least he hadn't tried anything funny with that sword of his. "Uh... Toronto."

It was almost funny how quickly the guy's face changed from inquisitive to downright baffled. "Excuse me, but I don't think I heard you right?"

As weird as having an intellectual conversation about location with a home intruder in your living room was, you couldn't say you were surprised; trouble always seemed to find you one way or another. "We're in Toronto," nothing. You pressed further. "You know, Canada."

"...What?"

The silence spoke volumes as you stared each other down, though you eventaully broke it with an exhausted sigh. "Listen, man, I'm just trying to get some sleep. I'll get you a map and you don't steal my throw blankets, deal?"

Without waiting for a response, you hightailed it to the kitchen of your two-story rambler and retrieved a map from the far cupboard. Your on-and-off job at a tourist company came with many perks, some of which being: yearly adventure passes to the 12-and-under under-the-sea theme park, Royal Ontario Museum tickets during the busiest time in touring season, and a full crate of maps that would never see the light of day.

Until now, that is.

The strange man was still in your living room when you sauntered back in, though he had turned his attention to your television, a box of an appliance you pilfered from a garage sale a few years back. He was poking it with a distinct air of confusion, which only cemented your belief that he was on some type of drug--it was almost like he had teleported here from the fucking medieval era instead of breaking in through your-... well, you didn't actually know where or how he had broken in, but you sure as hell would find out after this conundrum. You held out the map. "Here," you watched as he unfurled the thing, looking no less baffled than he had a minute ago. "I assume you can read?"

The man nodded, all traces of his earlier panic gone. "Thank you for your help. I'm Four.

"(Y/n)," you responded, half-wondering who on earth would name their kid that.

"Say, you wouldn't be able to tell me where the hero of this land is?"

"The... hero?" You echoed. "You mean the prime minister-?"

You would have put more thought into the depths of this insanity, but there was a loud crash in the kitchen that overwrote all desire to discretely call an ambulance for the poor guy. Four was hot on your heels as you rushed to the kitchen, having drawn his sword. "Watch the fuck where you're putting that," you tried to say, but a new voice shocked you into silence.

"Oww, Legend!" In the middle of your pristine floor was another blonde stranger, though he seemed no older than twelve or thirteen. A light blue tunic with gray sleeves hung down nearly to his knees, clothed in gaudy orange tights. Sky blue eyes turned to you and Four. "Where am I?"

Behind you, Four re-sheathed his sword. You breathed a sigh of relief, but it was for naught when the teenager practically sprung up to vigorously shake your hand. "Hi! I'm L- er, Wind! What's your name?"

You told him, feeling quite numb at his point.

"Cool name! You're so tall, I think you might be taller than Twilight and T..." you were already beginning to block him out, looking to Four for answers.

"I don't suppose you know anything about this?"

"I told you; portal," said Four, like that solved everything.

"I think I'm on drugs," you muttered, thinking back to that new Chinese restaurant you tried last night, at the same time Wind chimed in: "You told them?"

Four opened his mouth to respond, but you cut him off. "Okay, I don't know who or why you are, but you need to leave. Now."

"Aww," Wind pouted. "But you haven't met everyone!"

Not that you'd say it to his face, but you didn't think you wanted to. "I'll be fine. And so will you. I gave your... friend a map."

"Oh, alright," said Wind, if not a bit dejected. One of your heartstrings twinged. "Thank you."

"Anytime," you turned to Four. "You'll be fine?"

"Should be," he sighed. "We've been in these kinds of situations before."

Okay, now you felt a bit bad. Sure, they had broken into your house and scared the living daylights out of you, but it wasn't like they had been rude. Despite the impossible circumstances, Four and Wind seemed like decent guys who ended up at the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Wait," two sets of eyes turned to you. "...It would be cruel to make you leave without a bite to eat."

Both Four and Wind grin, and it's almost uncanny how similar they look. You offer a small smile, snag a small paper bag from the counter, and make a b-line for the middle cupboard, where a few packs of trail mix can be found. You shove all five in the bag, then add a few protein bars and tangerines for good measure. "Y'all don't have any food allergies, right?"

"Nope," says Four, right as Wind chimes: "Nu-uh!"

Cute, you think before you can stop yourself. "Good, hope you like tangerines and a whole lot of peanuts."

The brown paper crinkles as you fold it down, using a teal paperclip to secure it for good measure. You proudly hand the bag to Wind, who smiles like he just got his dream birthday present. Four nods to you, smiling in a far calmer manner. "We'll be going now, thanks for everything."

"Stay safe," is what you said, or, rather, what you would have said if the air above you hadn't inexplicably reformed in the form of a heavy object dropping down on you, knocking you to the ground as Wind's screams rang out. As you lay, prone and aching, on the unwashed floor, your last thought before unconsciousness was that you really needed to get rid of those maps.

That's a wrap! I hope you all enjoyed reading this as I did writing it, so be sure to reboot or leave a comment if you liked it!

All LU characters belong to JoJo!

[markantonys]

3x01 cold open!!!!! between rafe and everyone hyping up this scene for a long time now and people from the brazil con reporting descriptions of it, we knew how it was going to go down, so no huge surprises for me, but so exciting to watch it for myself! it definitely lives up to the hype!

a few quick thoughts

what do liandrin, sharon gilham, lorne balfe, and the vfx team have in common? they're all slaying in this opening sequence! i'm not someone who's at all knowledgeable about or sensitive to production value, but even i can tell they've stepped it up yet another notch this season. it looks decadent! epic! i can see why everyone involved has been boasting about this sequence so much! what a way to start the season.

it's also fantastic setup for all the tensions and weak points within the tower, because we see our inter-ajah mistrust, we see doubt in siuan's leadership, and of course we see the black ajah. that faceoff outside the hall between red sisters and others was really great - it shows that not all reds are like liandrin and some of them are light-serving, that non-reds can be black ajah, and that light-serving enemy ajahs will have to figure out how to trust each other and work together if they want to be strong enough to fight the shadow. this sequence does a good job establishing that the tower isn't split into just good guys vs. darkfriends, but that the good guys themselves are fractured and opposing each other.

i'd thrown out a wild speculation of diem camille as a surprise tuon since nothing was known about what character she might be playing, but we see her here as a light-serving red sister! i was wishing for the x-ray feature of the normal episodes here to see if any of the new aes sedai have names we might recognize, or if they're just randoms.

i'd have to rewatch closely to take a tally, but we seem to have representation from just about every ajah in liandrin's group: liandrin for red, nyomi for brown (sob!), joiya for gray, the green sister who was glad her warders died, the yellow sister who healed liandrin, and i think i saw a blue sister as well. there might have been a couple others besides these ones too!

in s2 we had a few scraps between channelers, but i think this is the first extended multi-person channeling battle we've seen. it's so exciting!! and awesome to see the gloves come off for our usually-composed and regal siuan, and see what she's capable of. we also see her doing a tricksy evasion of liandrin's accusations about what happened in cairhien, since everything liandrin said is true and siuan can't deny it, so siuan is definitely set up to be in some hot water.

leane also killed it! loved that moment of her beating someone up with her staff - a good visual demonstration of the oaths placing no restriction on non-channeling violence (though i'm sure this would've counted as "the last defense of her life/the life of another sister" anyway). wild theory i'm by no means subscribing to without rewatching to check for it, but just throwing it out there: could leane have been stilled during the battle and that's why she's doing physical fighting here? just thinking about the CV leak that named lelaine as the keeper of the chronicles; that could make sense if leane was stilled here and needs to be replaced. but it's also entirely possible that CV leak was inaccurate or that lelaine is slated to become future keeper in salidar but not yet in s3, and there wasn't any moment calling attention to leane being stilled or anything like that, so probably not.

we got a time-check as well: it's been 1 month since the cairhien events of 2x07, and therefore since falme too since i think that battle takes place basically the next day. that feels like a reasonable timeskip to me. enough time for the gang to gather their wits and come up with the best way to handle the truth bomb of liandrin being a darkfriend (and for rand to grow out his hair a little haha) but not so long that it feels like they've been sitting on their asses when there's stuff to get done.

correct me if i missed her, but i don't think we saw ryma in this sequence, but she is reported to be in s3. so, either we'll see her in the tower later on, or she's still with the seanchan and maybe we'll see her in tanchico (at which time hopefully our gang will free her!). i would most expect her to be relevant to the story via nynaeve again this season, whether that be a tanchico encounter where nynaeve frees her or early-season lessons in the tower if she's already free (we see a reminder of nynaeve's block during the battle, with our poor girl once again failing to channel when she really needs to).

people have pointed out that that shot of joiya sitting on the floor in the trailer looks like it might be the angreal storeroom, so the theory is that she gets captured and taken prisoner in this battle. that would track with the books, where the wondergirls take her prisoner and eventually get out of her that tanchico is the place to go for their hunt.

speaking of the storeroom, people have spotted what looks like a redstone doorway in it!! i've brightened it up to see better:

this is VERY intriguing, as my current theory had been that mat would find it in tanchico towards the end of the season. but i do stand by that his neck doesn't look injured in the tanchico still from ep6, nor is he wearing a medallion (which we can feel pretty confident is coming this season since he has it on the poster), so it could be that this white tower doorway is only an easter egg and the ones that people actually go through are located elsewhere, or it could be that mat does take two trips after all and he gets his answers in the white tower doorway in the early season (perhaps his motivation for going to tanchico instead of joining rand or perrin?) and his items & hanging in a tanchico doorway at the end of the season. but there would also have to be one in rhuidean for moiraine and lanfear to go through, right? so could there be 3 doorways in showverse? tar valon, tanchico, and rhuidean? i don't think there would be any problem with that.

okay, i think that's all the thoughts i had off the top of my head! this is a sequence that happens offscreen in the books, and bringing it onscreen was such a smart choice. it makes great use of our established aes sedai players, sets up the huge tensions brewing in the tower just in time for elaida coming on the scene, and really drives home for the audience that ANYONE can be black ajah/a darkfriend, so we'll be feeling that paranoia and mistrust right alongside the aes sedai.

and this is only the first scene of the season! i can't wait to see everything else that's to come!!

[fuanteinasekai]

I made a script for special #23. It's not a scanlation, just a script you can match up if you have the Japanese raws but you're struggling with the translation.

I fudged the translation a bit so it would flow more naturally, but I promise it's nothing important. Just things like using natural English or removing the 3 million "apparently"s that Japanese requires because otherwise they think you sound psychic.

A couple of translation notes: I kept "Japanese confectionary" as "wagashi shop" because I thought it sounded too unnatural translated (and wagashi is sometimes used in English). Wagashi are traditional Japanese sweets including anything from those fancy flower things (nerikiri) to simpler dango. Wagashi are often served with green tea, which I think fits Tanuma's kind of traditional vibe. Manjuu is also wagashi.

I translated shinyuu (親友) as "close friend" because it flowed best and is pretty close to the literal translation. But if you ask a Japanese person to tell you what they would call their best friend, it's shinyuu. Shinyuu literally means "intimate friend" and refers to a friend you are particularly close to, who understands you deeply, and who you can count on in hard times (and vice versa). Japanese does not have a word that literally means "best friend," so you can technically have more than one shinyuu. But Japanese people don't tend to throw these words around lightly, so for a lot of people shinyuu refers to one's singular closest friend. It varies. You can specifically say "close friend above all others" or muni no shinyuu but you'd generally have some kind of reason for that.

There is also a term "daishinyuu" which is more clearly "very (most) close friend," but I don't think it fits the tone or characterization as it's more modern and informal. Also, part of the reason I was specifically waiting for shinyuu is because Natsume is so stubborn about using yuujin for literally everyone that almost anything would be a milestone, but shinyuu is the classic.

Obligatory comment that I am non-native and not advanced, so minor grain of salt, etc.

Page 1

Sensei: Honestly! How long is he going to make us wait? He was supposed to be here ages ago.

Natsume: It's hardly been three minutes, Sensei.

Sensei: Those few minutes could be a fatal error! If the fresh dango are sold out how are you gonna make it up to me?

Natsume: But really, maybe something

Tanuma: Natsume

Tanuma: Sorry! I didn't mean to make you wait.

Page 2

Natsume: Woah, you're so fluffy, Tanuma.

Tanuma: Ugh… "They said there's a cold front coming through today."

Natsume: Ahh, Shigeru-san said that, too.

Tanuma: I said I was fine but he wouldn't let me go without wearing it.

Natsume: Haha, the priest?

Tanuma: ….

[Tanuma's dad is a Buddhist priest. Ever since he was little, Tanuma has drawn a lot of concern, one way or another falling ill often, so his dad is always worrying and looking after him.]

Sensei: Alright, to the wagashi shop, then!

Tanuma: Can we take a little detour first?

Sensei: WHAT!?

Natsume: Of course, I don't mind. [What for? ]

Tanuma: Just some mail.

Natsume: Mail?

Tanuma: I want to send this—

Tanuma?: Ah

Page 3

[It's blowing away]

[That's—]

Tanuma: Natsume

Natsume: I… I got it.

Tanuma: Are, are you okay, Natsume?

Tanuma: That was so risky…..

Tanuma: —But… it was about to be blown toward the river…

Page 4

Tanuma: Thank you, Natsume.

[When it was blowing away I saw beautiful seasonal flowers carefully painted in watercolor and writing so dense it didn't suit them.]

Natsume: Is that a hand-painted postcard? Sorry, I didn't mean to look.

[Even I don't know why I thought this but]

[it looked]

[just like a love letter…]

Tanuma: Oh, this.

Tanuma: My dad wrote it.

Page 5

Tanuma: To my mom.

[Our friends don't really ask me much because of my family situation.]

[And they rarely talk about their own families in front of me.]

[It's the same for Tanuma.]

Tanuma: My mom is far way.

Natsume: …. Ah.

Page 6

Tanuma: Oh! By "far away" I mean actually far away.

Tanuma: She lives separately.

Tanuma: But that doesn't mean there's a bad relationship.

Tanuma: —How do I put this.

Tanuma: My mom has always been in poor health.

Tanuma: But when she got together with Dad

Tanuma: and had me, her health suddenly deteriorated….

Tanuma: When she was hospitalized, she started to get better little by little but when dad happily went to visit her—

Tanuma: her health failed again—

Tanuma: The doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong, so they though maybe my father's visits were causing her some kind of stress.

Tanuma: So there was trouble with my mother's side of the family for a while, but…

Page 7

Tanuma: Dad decided to move out for mom's sake but

Tanuma: Mom hated it and begged and made a huge fuss.

Tanuma: Mom is still in convalescence but she's a lot better now so sometimes I go visit her.

Natsume: —…

[Nyanko-sensei once told me]

[Tanuma's dad was accompanied by an ayakashi with divine power, so terrifyingly strong and capricious]

[if it were jealous of someone like a close relative…]

[The ayakashi I see are sometimes terribly unfair.]

Tanuma: So my dad

Tanuma: Sometimes writes letters like this.

[Just like a love letter]

Page 8

[Because she is dear, they cannot meet. Because they cannot meet, he pours his heart into it—]

Natsume: … Tanuma…

Sensei: Hmph. Don't you write?

Tanuma: Er. Me? … I had been writing but recently it's been hard to write back…

Natsume:—Huh, why?

Tanuma: … She keeps pestering me "send a photo, send a photo." … because I wrote something carelessly…

Natsume: …Photo…? What did you write carelessly?

Tanuma: —…

Tanuma: …—I made a close friend here.

A final note: Japanese frequently drops pronouns so you have to use context to determine who is doing what. The "because she is dear" bit has zero pronouns. That is, a more literal translation is something like "because dear, unable to meet, because unable to meet, pour heart into." You see the issue. At first I thought, given it follows "just [like] a love letter," that it was a more general description of love letters, but "unable to meet because one is dear" seemed too specific so I chose to translate as being about Tanuma's parents in particular.