#second shift (jeremy f.)

[fazbearnightwatch]

TAG DUMP

[comatosebunny09]

vēnor | sylus

— summary: sylus must’ve gleaned all the info he needed during your exchange and dipped. figures. you’ve played your role well, and it seems he no longer requires your services. unbeknownst to you, crimson eyes narrow in the lowlight, watching the elevator doors swish shut as your target has his way with you. — cw: female reader, marking, biting, unprotected intercourse, creampie, rough sex, size kink, praise kink, cevix f-king, explicit language, jealousy, knife fight, alcohol use, mentions of blood and viscera, self-indulgent, not proofread, mdni — wc: ~4k — notes: you can prolly tell i was inspired by his new secret times, *fans self* thank you for reading, lovely! — now playing: wasted eyes - amaarae u, lost - jeremy pope

Your mission is simple.

Saunter in. Seduce your target. Extract as much information as you can concerning the whereabouts of a particular artifact. Smile pretty. Flutter your lashes. Lure him away with the promise of pleasure. Snuff him out like a candle’s flame when the moment allows.

The setup is flawless. Routine. Until it isn’t. 

The figure clad in black, oozing smugness and sex appeal beside you, complicates things. 

Typically, you complete your missions alone. You’ve played the role of seductress so long that it’s second nature. You’re more than capable of fending for yourself if shit hits the fan. You’re a menace with a blade and just as formidable without one. 

Besides, you live for the thrill of a good fight. A few bruises and broken bones have never deterred you. According to your intel, your target came stacked with security, so you anticipate possibly getting your hands dirty. 

But he insisted on accompanying you this time around—Sylus. Reasoned he didn’t want his diamond falling into the wrong hands, whatever the hell that meant. You figure it was an excuse to micromanage you. He’d been doing it a lot lately, ever-looming like a shadow, trained to your every move. 

So, here you are—standing beside your employer as the elevator lazily descends, fretting over your hair and the occasional slip of your blouse off your shoulder. 

You’re enveloped in an unbearably tense silence. Shift your weight between your feet, trying to keep your gaze on the gilded elevator doors ahead. Even that is a task within itself, scarlet eyes occasionally capturing yours in your reflection, coupled with an omniscient smirk that causes your chest and cheeks to swell with heat.

He stands in good form beside you, hand stuffed in his pocket, hair coiffed, dressed to the nines. He’s infuriatingly calm in contrast to the maelstrom brewing inside you. 

You feel much like a child about to perform at a piano recital in front of their parents for the first time. Insane, given you’ve never been this anxious around him before. But things are…

Well, things are different now.  

Lately, your relationship with your boss has shifted on its axis, making way for tender words and disarming touches where there were once indifferent looks and tedious banter. 

You’re not entirely sure when, but at some point under his tutelage, you’ve developed a fondness for him. A part of you wonders if he feels the same pull, his recent treatment towards you slowly dismantling that carefully constructed wall between you.

The elevator pings and dips, disrupting your thoughts once it reaches its destination. 

You release a breath you were unaware of holding. Square your shoulders, mentally preparing yourself for your mission. The doors slide open, a crisp breeze fanning over your inflamed skin, ruffling your floor-length skirt. You move to dismount the lift, but slender fingers encircling your wrist halt your exit. 

They’re like a brand on your skin, searing straight to your heart. You’re stock-still as Sylus nears you, swaddling you in the warmth and enthralling scent of scorched cedarwood and cracked vanilla beans he carries. He rounds you, the tips of his shoes staining your vision. You’re wordless as worn fingertips graze your temple, sweeping errant curls behind your ear.

He chuckles something low, his other set of fingers easing beneath your chin to tilt your head back. Your breath corks in your lungs when your gazes interlock.

It’s like he’s peering into your soul, the way he studies you with a reverent shine to his eyes despite the ever-present smirk twitching his lips. You swallow thickly past the barbs in your throat. Enraptured by his gaze, you hardly notice him pushing something into your ear. Not until a sharp pitch of feedback causes you to wince until it levels out.

“Stunning,” he lauds, brushing the flat of his nails over your earpiece, outlining the curve of your cartilage. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

You vibrate internally from the praise. He smooths back your hair, ghosting over your neck and shoulder. Slides a thumb over the space just shy of your bottom lip, and he tracks its movement, irises darkening into a mysterious shade of garnet. 

You’re wearing his favorite color of lipstick–a dangerous shade of rouge reminiscent of wine shared over passionate nights. Your stomach pinches with something foreign. For a moment, your surroundings fall away, and only the pair of you exist in this world of pheromones and shrouded intentions. 

Briefly, you entertain the thought of conquering the gap between you. Entertain grabbing his shirt and tugging him into a kiss. Based on the flutter of his lashes as he studies your mouth, you don’t think he would be opposed to it. 

But fate has other plans for you tonight, another invasive ding from the elevator disrupting your reprieve. 

So caught up in your own little world, you hadn’t noticed that the doors closed in your idleness until someone outside called for the lift. 

“Oh shit! My bad,” says a sheepish voice from the hallway. With Sylus’ fingers still curved around your chin, the pair of you look at the intruder outside, Sylus’ expression reading annoyance, and yours, dreaminess. 

—

It helps that you’ve already had a drink—a glass of bourbon in your hotel room to take the edge off, loosening your inhibitions.

The music is good, too. Something sultry and ambient as you wend through the envious gazes and intrigued whispering of the bar’s other patrons in pursuit of your target. 

You feel his eyes on you, too. A familiar wash of scarlet trained on the space between your shoulder blades and the sway of your hips. The notion of him watching you so intensely sets your insides alight. 

You banish the memories of his breath on your skin—of his ghostly touches along your flesh—to the furthest reaches of your mind. It’s showtime. You’ll have plenty of time to confront these complicated feelings for your boss later. 

For now, you home in on your target. He’s dressed in something tailored and expensive, the material of his suit crisp as you slide a hand over his shoulder with a sultry smile rounding your lips. 

The gentleman looks up from the whiskey glass in his hands. Dons a smile of his own, straightening when you pour yourself onto the stool beside him. He signals to the bartender, then turns to face you, skimming over your visage with his brows lifted in intrigue. 

“Well now. What’s a pretty thing like you doing here all by yourself?” he queries, tone murky like the liquor in his glass. 

You tilt your head, your hair falling over your features just right. Cross your legs, offering him your hand to kiss. Your voice is husky. Disarming as you counter, “Handsome fella like you looked like you could use some company.” 

He drags his lips over the notches and grooves of your knuckles, whiskey-colored eyes fastened to you. Smiling, you pluck his glass from betwixt his fingers. Throw back what remains in it, the acrid sting warming your innards whilst you set it down on the sticky counter with a definitive clack.

The man whistles, clearly impressed. “Pretty and a drinker. I like you already.”

You laugh something rehearsed. Toy with the red-gemmed pendant between your collarbones. He’s charming. Good-looking. Maybe you’ll have a little fun before you take his life. You haven’t had your desires sated in a while, too busy tamping down your own needs for the love of your boss.

On cue, scarlet twinkles in your periphery. Sylus. He’s seated not too far off, nursing a glass of something viscous. Quietly biding his time, poised to step in if he deems it necessary. A part of you is spurred on by his attention. You play up the theatrics of your flirtations if only to get a rise out of him.

It’s relatively easy to fall into femme fatale mode thereafter. You chat up your target, inquiring about his profession and complimenting his taste in liquor, guided by Sylus via earpiece. 

You don’t miss the vexed clip in your boss’ voice whenever you get a little too handsy, laugh a little too bewitchingly, and bite back a smile at how envious he sounds in your ear. The gentleman is putty in your hands, a grinning, chuckling fool when you squeeze his thigh and stroke his ego. 

You pull out all the stops, feeding him alcohol until he’s red-faced with a loosened tongue, unwittingly spewing out the information you seek. He touches you as the night blurs, worn fingers smoothing over your thighs, cresting down the slope of your arm, brushing your cheek, dragging over your shoulder. 

You let him have his fill. It’s not like you aren’t enjoying yourself, too, the alcohol warming in your veins, heightening your need for physical stimulation. 

Finally, you sweep in for the kill. Angle yourself closer to your prey, your breasts pressing temptingly against his arm whilst your hands roost on his quad.

“Wanna take this party elsewhere?” you whisper, brushing the outer shell of his ear with your lips. He chuckles like the enamored fool you molded him into, dragging his mouth across your cheek in a kiss as you pull back.

“Got a room upstairs,” he husks in what little space dwells between your faces. “We could have some real fun there.”

Hook. Line. Sinker.

He takes your hand in his, drawing you from the stool. Twirls you ‘round to get a good look at you, the dangerous contours of your body accentuated by your outfit. 

Your target clicks his tongue, inwardly patting himself on the back for bagging such a beauty. He guides you through the crowd towards the elevator. And as he whisks you away, you survey your surroundings in search of a familiar shock of white. 

Disappointment spumes through you when you don’t find him through the bar's furling smoke and sultry lighting. He must’ve gleaned all the info he needed during your exchange and dipped. Figures. You’ve played your role well, and it seems he no longer requires your services for the time being. 

Where before, you felt guilty for seeking a little fun, the feeling sloughs off, replaced by disdain and spite spooling in your gut.

Your target draws you to him by your waist as the elevator doors slide shut, the pair of you flanked by two of his bodyguards. You succumb to his ministrations, his lips on a shameless excursion over your throat, drawing the sultriest little laugh from betwixt your lips. 

Unbeknownst to you, crimson eyes narrow in the lowlight, watching the elevator doors swish shut.

—

The hallway of the sixth floor is barren. Eerily quiet, the fluorescent lights above dancing over four figures moving over the carpeted floors. 

You toddle behind your prey, guided by interlaced fingers, swathed in the imposing aura of his bodyguards on either side of you. You feel for the blades cinched to your thigh, tucked beneath the veil of your skirt. Easing one from your garter belt, you conceal the knife in your palm, and the guards seem none-the-wiser.

Suddenly, muffled sounds erupt on either side of you. You glance back, alarmed to see the bodyguards wiped from existence. The only clue revealing their fate is a familiar, wispy coil of dark red left in their place. You narrow your eyes, jaw set in a rigid line. 

Sylus. 

Your target seems undeterred, continuing to prattle on ahead as he herds you to his room. Sylus must’ve assumed you couldn’t handle your own, which makes you buzz with irritation. 

Fine. He thinks you’re incapable? You’ll prove him wrong. 

With the blade held firm between your forefingers, you prepare to thrust it into your target’s neck. So much for having a bit of fun.

However, before you can complete the thought, something ensnares your wrist, snatching you from the hallway into the arms of an inky darkness. Your spine collides with something rigid and cold, the air siphoned from your lungs.

Your fight or flight senses kick into overdrive, and with the moonlight highlighting your assailant's silhouette, you swing your blade where you assume their head is. They release a brief sound of exertion, ducking beneath your attack. You cleave through the air again, coupling the swing with a series of kicks to put some space between you and land a hit. 

Your aggressor, seemingly familiar with your move set, catches your ankle, shoving it down to derail your attacks, and a dark chuckle vibrates the air. 

“That all you got?” they provoke, the timbre of their voice reminiscent of thunder rolling over the horizon.

You stumble back a few paces, righting yourself before charging with another slew of punches, swipes, and kicks. It’s a futile endeavor, scuffling in low visibility like this against an opponent who seems to be using the darkness to their advantage.

But you’ll be damned if you go down without a fight.

“Too slow,” tsks your foe, egging you on.

Suddenly, your attacker traps your hand clutching the blade, and you dumbly blink as they use your momentum to swing you ‘round, manacling both your wrists together at the small of your back. Your cheek squished against a glacial surface, your assailant shoves their weight against you, trapping you between a wall and the hardened slope of their body. 

Faint wisps of vanilla invade your scenes, yet the hot rush of adrenaline seeping through you blots out all logic and reason. You struggle against their hold, your labored breaths intermingling with their husky laughter. 

You grit your teeth when a hand eases down the curve of your hip, sliding over your thigh with practiced ease. You grit your teeth against the feel of it as it dips beneath your skirt’s slit to tug your remaining knives free of your garter belt.

You listen with pinched breaths as the crisp steel plunges into a far-off surface. How the hell did they know where you kept your knives?

In a ditch effort to free yourself, you thrust your hips back, momentarily throwing your attacker off-kilter. Their grip on your wrists slackens, and you spin around, planting your foot against their chest to create some distance. Twirling your knife, you thrust it towards the outline of a neck. It’s to no avail, those searing fingers once again taking possession of your wrist before you can land a blow. 

You release a frustrated cry, your hand twisting painfully until the blade plummets to the ground, sinking into the floor with a resounding thwack! Employing your other hand, you try to pry your wrist free, aiming an onslaught of kicks at your aggressor’s ribs. They effortlessly block them with the hard edge of their forearm, and your moot efforts seem to amuse them further. 

The severity of your situation settling in, soft light suddenly floods the narrow space, pouring down from overhead to reveal the contours of a familiar face.

“Sylus?” you gasp, bleary-eyed and chest heaving.

He uses your surprise to his advantage, surging forward to capture your lips. The air punched from your lungs, you trade your alarm for a bitten-off moan, fingers instinctively seeking out the silken glide of his hair. 

He pushes his tongue into the warm cavern of your mouth, swallowing your groans whilst his hands make frantic expeditions over your sides, bunching up your blouse and skirt in pursuit of the supple glide of your skin. 

Fingers curl around your thighs where they pinch and knead the flesh there, Sylus notching himself between your legs. And fuck, he’s hard, your scuffle awakening things in him he thought himself dead to.

He lifts you into his arms, and your legs intuitively wind about his waist. The hotel door rattles behind you when he slams you against it, his hands greedily sprawling over your body, burning through the layers of your skin.

“What the fuck,” you breathe when he releases your mouth, and you crane your neck to the side, granting him more access whilst he brands your throat with the languid drag of his lips. 

He nips and sucks in a way that borders pain, his breaths sweltering and ragged, matching the roll of his hips. The rough stitching of his slacks acquaints itself with your center, and you sigh all hot and wanton, your spine scrubbing against the door whilst he grinds into you.

“Did you really think I’d let him have his way with you?” he pants through the lust-ladened haze, dragging his lips over your shoulder and collarbones, down to the ample swell of your breasts. He rakes his teeth over the skin there, sure to leave pretty blooms of purple and blue in their wake.

You huff a laugh, the back of your head colliding with the door. “Oh, Sylus. Don’t tell me you were jealous.” 

Of course, you were banking on it, playing your role too well. 

You yip when he bites you in warning, the predatory gleam of his eyes trained on your face. “How could I be jealous if you’re already mine?”

You scoff at that, a wave of ecstasy surging through you when his fingers ease between your thighs, grazing your labia, rucking your panties to one side to reveal your own desire. Your back bows when he prods your puckering sex with two fingers, and he chuckles against your neck, the sound of it making your pussy flutter with excitement.

“Seems I’m not the only one affected by our little spat.” With a few more strokes up the span of your cunt, he sinks his digits inside you, and you share a pleased exhale as you greedily suck him in down to the hilt. 

“Look at you. So ready for me. And to think you were so eager to give this away to another man.”

“Do you always talk this much,” you breathe, draping your arms around his shoulders. Screw your eyes shut, humping against his fingers, chasing that sweet coiling sensation building in your tummy.

“Are you always this impatient,” counters Sylus, open-mouthed against your chin, his thumb sifting through the thick folds of your sex in search of your clit. He presses down, and you shudder, the sound of his name curling around your tongue, making his dick jump.

“Only with you. Unh, fuck. Just with—just with you.”

“Tell me you want this,” he rasps into the hollow of your neck. Scissors his fingers inside you, slowly unraveling those bundles of nerves inside, the vulgar squelch of your cunt intermingling with your labored breaths. “Beg me to fuck you, or I’ll stop.”

To punctuate his words, he slows the pleasurable drag of his fingers, and you whine, clinging to his shoulders for dear life. 

The heat of embarrassment washes over you. You’re too far gone to care. Too enraptured to give a damn about your facade or pride. Need him inside you, otherwise, you might just die.

“Your words, sweetheart. Use them,” he coaxes on a rasp.

“Fuck me,” you relent, baring down on his digits curling inside you. “Fuck me, Sylus, please.”

“Good girl,” he praises, already freeing himself from the restrictive pull of his slacks and briefs. 

You’ve no time to admire his size in the dimness. Too clouded by lust, your eyes fixated on his while he rubs the swollen head against the seam of your pussy. He prods your sticky opening, and your mouth waters with anticipation, the sheer size of his head alone enough to stretch you nice and open for him.

“Deep breaths, darling,” he coos against your hinged-open mouth. And your thighs crater between his fingers as he sinks you onto his cock, the strain of pushing into you stealing the air from his chest. 

“Oh fuck,” you gasp. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.” You’re halfway sobbing, gritting your teeth, your fingers buried in the collar of his shirt, and your face falls into the crook of his shoulder, where you bite and suck, seeking a little respite from the painful stretch. 

“That’s it, sweetheart. Breathe for me.” He isn’t intentionally being pompous. Knows he’s thicker than the average bear, and as much as he burns to be buried inside you, he doesn’t want to hurt you more than necessary.

Soon, the pain subsides, making way for little flutters of pleasure when he’s fully eased home, his swollen cockhead kissing your cervix. When he’s sure you’ve adjusted to his girth, he fucks into you with shallow thrusts at first, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. 

Despite the moment, he’s a patient lover. Taking his time moving inside you, invoking pretty sounds from your lips. A thick ring of cream forms around the base of his cock as he ruts into you, your intermingled fluids scorching down the inner cut of your thigh. 

As time passes, your moans crescendo, spurring him on, and he fucks into you a little harder, your nails forming angry crescents in his traps through the fabric of his shirt. One of your heels falls off and clatters against the floor, he’s fucking you so good. So deep, battering against your cervix.

“You take me so well, sweetheart,” he dotes into the junction of your neck and shoulder, bouncing you on his cock a little faster. “So deep. It’s like you were made to be my precious little cock sleeve.”

You can do nothing but gasp at the delicious friction, blanketed in the throes of passion, in the feel of him nestled deep inside you, filling you to the brim. 

You feel like you’re in a dream, being fucked by your boss like this. The object of your desires, the focal point of your fantasies and affections. Your clit scrubs against his pelvic bone with each thrust, and that sparkling rush of ecstasy begins to bloom in your tummy.

“Gonna cum?” he husks, your walls clenching around him.

You nod, your voice lodged in your throat, and you tangle your fingers in the delicate sweep of hair at his nape, pulling him in for a kiss, pouring every pent-up feeling into the warm chasm of his mouth. 

Spurred by the delicious drag of his cock inside you, by his tongue licking into your mouth, and by your puckered nipples grazing against the hardened lines of his shirt, you cum. God, you cum.

And the world slides into white, your mouth opening with a moan seemingly dragged from the bowels of your chest, your toes curling against the divots of his buttocks. He fucks you through it, pulled over the edge with you, hot spurts of cum flooding the searing clench of your pussy.

He holds you like this against the door, swathed in the symphony of your quickened heartbeats and breaths. Gulps down air, his forehead nestled against your shoulder, a fine sheen of sweat covering your bodies whilst you pet through locks of powder white, drawing him down from the sky. 

He hums against your lips, drawing you into a sticky kiss that lingers and etches a smile onto your face. He plucks you from the door, tenderly gathering you into his hands to walk you into the bathroom. 

He sets you down on the crisp countertop, the marble cold beneath your inflamed skin. And you paw from him like a needy kitten whilst he divests himself of his clothing, chuckling when he steps between your thighs to rid you of your wrinkled attire.

“Sylus,” you query, blinking lazily up at him whilst he draws you into his arms, turning you toward the shower. He hums in reply, a boyish gleam to his eyes and a smile rounding his lips. “What about the target?”

Sylus snorts, depositing you beneath the warm spray of the shower, the water already working to ease the strain on your muscles. 

“I already took care of it.” And with his hands perched on your hips, he angles himself to kiss you, full-bodied on the lips, never wanting to hear another man’s name touch your tongue again.

—

Meanwhile, Luke and Kieran meander through the quiet halls of the sixth floor, their masks spattered with blood and viscera as they whistle a wistful tune.

[velvetinks]

Three on the carpet

Pedro Pascal x f!Reader

Warnings: None – just sweet family moments, mild baby chaos, and Pedro being the most doting dad imaginable

The car rolled up to the venue, and your heart did a double flip—not because of the cameras flashing outside, but because your daughter had just spit up a little on Pedro’s tux.

“Babe,” you whispered, dabbing at his shoulder with a baby wipe. “You’re seconds away from going viral for smelling like formula.”

Pedro laughed, one of those deep, full laughs that made your chest warm. “Hey, let them say I’m seasoned. Like a good stew.”

You rolled your eyes as the door opened and chaos—the kind with bright lights, shouting photographers, and handlers guiding your family toward the carpet—exploded in front of you.

Pedro stepped out first, handsome and composed, though you saw the way he subtly checked over his shoulder to make sure you were okay. Then came your turn, heels clicking softly against the carpet as you carried your baby girl in one arm, the other wrapped around Pedro’s.

“She’s falling asleep,” you whispered, shifting her little bow-covered head on your chest.

“She’s already cooler than us,” he grinned, brushing her tiny cheek with his knuckle. “Watch, she’s gonna be on every headline tomorrow: ‘Pedro Pascal’s Daughter Steals the Show.’”

You weren’t used to this kind of attention—cameras, microphones, people asking what brand you were wearing and what it’s like being “Mrs. Pascal.” But with Pedro’s hand on the small of your back and your baby curled up between you, none of it felt overwhelming.

Pedro paused mid-carpet and looked at you. “You okay?”

You nodded. “More than okay.”

“Good,” he said, eyes full of warmth. “Because I’m proud to walk with both of my girls.”

That got caught in your throat. The man might be a professional heartthrob, but he reserved all the real romance for you. And tonight, it felt like the whole world could see it.

During the interview line, someone asked if the baby was staying up for the awards.

“She’s got better things to do than watch her dad lose to someone named Jeremy,” Pedro joked, adjusting the carrier strap slung across his shoulder.

You laughed softly, and the interviewer cooed over how beautiful your daughter looked in her tiny tulle dress.

By the time you were inside the theater, seated and calm under the warm lights of the show, Pedro was still gently bouncing your daughter in his arms, even after she’d fallen asleep.

“You know,” he whispered, kissing your temple, “I used to dream about nights like this.”

You looked over at him, your hand resting lightly on his knee.

“Red carpets and awards?”

“No,” he said, gaze soft and sure. “Us. You. Her. Being a family. Getting to show it off a little.”

And when his name was called for Best Actor—not even expecting it, completely stunned you watched him kiss your forehead, whisper “I love you both,” and climb the stage still with baby spit on the shoulder of his tux.

[goddesspharo]

Ok so this isn’t really a question but I was thinking about possible plots for the third movie that have maximum phoenix and hangman (obviously) and I cannot shake the idea of a reunion of the daggers for some sort of secret mission

Now I know absolutely nothing about the navy but hear me out, the gang is called back in (hangman, rooster, payback, fanboy etc) after a plane went down in enemy territory and at the mission brief, it’s revealed, dun dun da da…. It was phoenix and Bob and there’s reason to believe they’re still out there

I have no idea if you’re open to prompt ideas so feel free to tell me to f all the way off but since they’ll probably never do something like that for the actual third movie, I figure the next best thing is the best fic rider for the ship

I’m sensing major opportunity for some Jake and Bradley begrudging partnership and fun dynamics all around

Thoughts?

Ooh, this kind of sounds like Stealth but not shitty. (Does anyone remember how they recut the trailers for that movie to heavily feature Jamie Foxx as soon as he won the Oscar despite him being in it for like 15 minutes? Lol)

I take all of the "we've got a timeline for Top Gun 3, etc etc" talk with a grain of salt because it took them like 30+ years to make the sequel -- everyone else might be all about franchises but I know Tom Cruise isn't going to churn out a legacy movie just to churn it out without a decent script or someone promising him that he can fly a plane inverted in space. As much as I love TGM, I don't see where they'd realistically go with a third movie (nor do I necessarily need them to? End on a high note I say). In the same way that Ethan Hunt is still very much front and center of the MI franchise much to Jeremy Renner's chagrin when he thought they'd hand it over to him, I don't see them ever shifting the focus off Mav who will be pushing 70 at that point (it's okay for Tom Cruise, but I don't think the navy is letting That Old Man do All That Shit).

Thank you for your faith in my ability to write a backdoor sequel, but to be honest it was tough work to write action scenes when I was writing against the grain of dystopic claims so I might not be the one to write about a rescue mission that doesn't involve everyone just threatening to kill each other because they read the map wrong and are now going around in circles in the jungle. I also harbor a secret belief that if Phoenix and Bob ever went down and they needed to launch a second mission to save them, by the time our himbos got there, Phoenix would already have saved them both and they'd be sipping Mai Tais poolside at the closest Club Med. Extreme "I'm a damsel, I'm in distress, I can handle this" energy. If anything, she'd have to cut her vacation short to save the daggers who were supposed to be saving her.

But there is a sort of big damn hero moment coming up in can't fake what you can't break up with so hopefully that scratches the itch! (As an aside: to that anon who asked me last week about this fic, you kickstarted me working on that again with that ask. Of course now it's like 17k and I still haven't written that part that was holding me up, but the parts I did write make it flow better so thanks for getting the creative juices flowing! Turns out asking fic writers about their WIPs prompts them to write more stuff, go figure!)

[twistedthings]

𝖔𝖕𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖔: m/f/anyone 𝖕𝖑𝖔𝖙: Jeremy is a golden boy homicide detective with the dark secret that he is a serial killer, while out getting a breakfast order he spots your muse & instantly becomes obsessed. hmu in DMS if you’d like to plot this out more~

The mid-morning sun had just broken through the overcast clouds when Jeremy pushed open the door to a coffee shop, he was on duty but looked like any other patron walking into a coffee shop, typing away at a message in reply to his partner as he entered the place. Shaking the briskness of the morning off his shoulders the detective glanced up from his phone, pocketing the thing as he slowed his approach to the counter long enough to catch sight of everyone in the establishment. With that glance Jeremy had found his newest obsession, it was a feeling, perhaps the only thing he could feel– it started in his gut, cold and churning before it moved up into his chest to start his heart into a race. It took him a moment to focus on the menu after it happened, the barista was more than willing to give him all the time he needed, still, he apologized, ordered and then paid. He had to see them again, make sure they were real.

          The tall man moved over to the area where he would wait for his order, tugging out his phone again, shaking his head once slightly to rid the gnawing urge to look at them once more, just a glimpse. But he controlled himself, pushed the sensations down, reading the reply he’d gotten from his partner from the text he’d sent earlier and then he glanced over where they sat. They were beautiful, tucked away in their own little world, pouring over what was on the table before them, Jeremy studied them for a few more seconds before his order was called out and he retrieved it.

           It was out of his way, but not entirely so, he made it casual though, walking near their table, he slowed his step just a bit once he was in better eyesight, quickly scanning over their set up before he paused in stride, topic of conversation picked. “Careful reading that in public, people might believe you’re planning on killing someone,” he said, gesturing to one of the books, recognizing the title and author, a small smirk played at his lips before he shifted to stand opposite them on the other side of the table, still in the little walkway between tables, as if he didn’t have intentions on staying very long, despite his starting a conversation or at least trying to. “– I think it’s for a research paper or something similar, but, I’m really good at picking the bad guy out in a room.” In all cases, Jeremy was the bad guy in the room.

[bastart13]

I’ve had a lot of fun recently coming with with female mercenary characters for TF2. I really liked where the concept art was going with making them all individual characters rather than simply “if the characters were women”

The design style is fantastic for distinct simplicity so I tried limiting myself to basic colours and shapes to make these

and I’m pretty confident they pass the silhouette test!

Character names/bios under the cut!

Heavy

Name: Marie Jarrett

Age: Mid 30s-40s

Height: 6’5

Nationality: American (Hawai’i)

Bio: Raised in Hawai’i, growing up she developed more and more drastic measures to fend off the tourists swarming her home. Land mines, electric gates, guard dogs, none could stop them for long until she picked up her trusty minigun to send her message. But even still, she hears the click of cameras in the night.

Eventually, she left her home to explore the world. Enthralled with the image of seeing different wonders across different countries, she’s always disappointed. She’s travelled every continent and still finds nothing that lives up to her expectations. No place, no person. She’s outgoing and open to new experiences, only she usually hates them.

Mercenary life is a great opportunity to earn money, see sights, meet new people and kill them after they don’t meet your expectations. She hates New Mexico and takes every opportunity to destroy the buildings and insult her employer’s tastes. She finds some people she tolerates within the mercenaries as she hasn’t yet visited where they live. However much she hides it, she has a deep, instinctual fear of the Engineer.

  Soldier

Name: Linda Smith

Age: Early 40s

Height: 5’10

Nationality: Canadian

Bio: Canada’s perfect woman… or so she claims. The star of war propaganda posters and clearly decided for the role because of her great tactical assets. She’s there to motivate people into the fight. To spread the glory of Canada and inspire her allies. She believes she has higher orders than anyone else she’s working for (ignoring the fact she hasn’t heard from them for a good few years) and is determined to follow them to the letter. She may have lost the letter but she remembers it good enough.

She represents the ideals of Canada: polite, friendly, apologetic, and pacifistic. None of these are contradicted by how she throws around rockets. That’s not what Canada means. She’s superior to everyone around her and graciously educates them on how to improve through example. She loves her French and British allies and will kindly tell the Americans how to be better.

She’s motivating and actually fairly competent, it’s just that competency might be misdirected. She’s damn good at rocket jumping, shooting her shotgun, and supporting her team, it’s just that you really need to get it in her head when she’s meant to be doing it.

Scout

Name: Patricia “Pat” Herald

Age: 50s-60s

Height: 5’4

Nationality: English

Bio: In her years, Patricia has learnt fear… and she’s learnt to laugh in its face. She wakes up at the crack of dawn, ready to leave at the drop of a hat, boots polished and laced the night before. Her years have taught her that with a gun and Jeremy by her side, she can survive!

The postal route of Appleby-in-Westmorland.

She’s been chased by geese, dogs, cows, elderly ladies, and when her postal route had her delivering post during the war, she developed a taste for blood. Nothing will stop her from delivering her post on time. Every day before 6am, every postbox will have their letters and parcels. One chucked across barbed wire, another house jumped over a river, another house miles into the country with dogs on her heels, she WILL get there and she’ll get there FAST.

But after a couple of decades, she needs a change of scenery, and the Gravels wars are just the holiday she’s needed. With her trusty black and white cat by her side (ignoring the yowling and scratches) she reckons it’ll be great time to enjoy herself.

Quotes: “Oh, hello, Human Jeremy.”

“Bloody fucking Ethel! Building her house out in the country… surrounded by bloody hills and rivers!”

Pyro

Name: Nikephoros Papadopoulos

Age: Late 20s

Height: 5’11

Nationality: Greek

Bio: Survival of the fittest. Nature gives and nature taketh away. If you’re not prepared for that, well, Pyro is more than happy to teach you the lesson. They embody the old values of the Greek gods: f*ck or fire. She indulges her every whim and unfortunately for the people around her it often involves arson.

One year for the Olympic games, she was given the noble title of torchbearer. On complete coincidence, the Olympics shifted to primarily water sports. Underwater sprints became the hot new trend!

She’s merry and chatty, never missing the opportunity to talk to other people about herself and her world view. She can’t wait to spread her gospel to help other people improve themselves (though she always gets a laugh out of those who go out screaming in the flames). She can’t help it if she has a sadistic side.

Engineer

Name: Mikawo Kojima

Age: Early 20s

Height: 5’0

Nationality: Japanese

Bio: Japan’s early-rising industrial revolutions in technology are best exemplified in Mikawo, a young upstart determined to rise to the top, learning everything she can and building the best of the best. Unfortunately, she’s never been the most creative but when you happen upon other people’s blueprints and happen to construct them first, what does it matter who came up with the “concept”?

At first, she appears to be every bit the quiet and demure young woman people expect, only when silk hides steel, that steel is a massive automatic sentry gun. She’s motivated by a distinct contempt for the people who get in her way. Especially those who try to be better than her. She enjoys the flexibility of English, especially the cusses, and she has no reservations about swearing up a storm, even if she still refuses to give a straight rejection, preferring instead to give a small “I’ll think about it.”

Quotes: “This GUN is fair use on your head!”

Demo

Name: Qingzhao Zeng

Age: Late 40s

Height: 5’3

Nationality: Chinese

Bio: The Zeng family has a long-standing family trade in demolitions and explosives, traced down the line all the way to the Song dynasty. Luckily, Qingzhao has sisters so, you know, it’s not all that important. She doesn’t even have to stop smoking and drinking. She hasn’t blown herself up (that much) so clearly, it’s working. Precision is for other people to worry about. She’s apathetic to a T, having seen everything. Measurements come from the heart. A pinch of gunpowder there, a splash of paint there.

Her family has a deep-seated rivalry with the DeGroots. Long ago in ancient China, a Zeng matriarch woke up in a cold sweat, a message from the stars to let them know of their Scottish rivals. Due to being a continent away from each other, the families have actually met each other only a handful of times, but the hatred needs to be kept up because, what if?

Turns out, Qingzhao has met Tavish even before finding employment under the Mann brothers. One drunken night, the two of them had a short, whirlwind friendship, sharing secrets and declaring each other to be their best friends. Luckily for them, they both forgot the night, merrily hating each other as tradition dictates. However, headaches and flashes of this terrible night haunt them both. Could they really get over centuries of hate and become friends?

Absolutely not.

Sniper

Name: Ansa Aaltonen

Age: 27

Height: 6’2

Nationality: Finnish

Bio: Snow. Sugar. Cocaine.  Her life is run by many white powders. Ansa is a professional sniper, with a sharp eye and a steady hand… when she isn’t also high as a kite, lost in the snowy wilderness of Finland and screeching to the sky. When you’re up in the dark and cold, you need something to give you a little pep in your step. It just so happens Ansa liked having a bit more pep than most.

She’s there for a THRILL. There’s nothing better to get your heart pumping at 200 beats per second than a good headshot, embracing the chill, and a hit of sugar. She no longer feels the cold or heat or even pain, shrugging it off until she collapses. It just makes her feel alive. She’s efficient, fast, and determined to get her kicks.

She has an unusual taste, living off fermented fish and tree bark. To most people around the Finnish wilderness, she’s nothing more than an urban legend, but she’s very real and she’s looking for some excitement, happily found in employment in the Gravel wars.

Spy

Name: Yvonne Pleshette [Real name N/A]

Age: 30s

Height: 5’8

Nationality: American (California)

Bio: The silver screen calls to his woman and she’s happy to answer. She trains herself to act in every possible role she can, having a wide range of accents, body languages, and backstories. To truly test herself, she gave up her identity long ago. Lately she’s been going by the name “Yvonne.”

The world of Hollywood is cutthroat and full of backstabbers so she learnt to cut throats and stab backs. While some people tell her the terms are metaphorical, nothing else has given her more roles. Living the mercenary life is simply gathering research for her roles (and earning some much-needed money in the process).

She presents herself as a classic film star, despite being a minor name at best, mostly because she’s always changing it. She has high standards but a cheapskate personality. She’s a bit of a bitch, happily criticising others, especially if they’re working with her. What can she say? She’s a diva.

[Slutshames other spy]

Quotes: “Ugh, actors these days, they know nothing about getting into character. They still have names.”

“’AHHHHH—’ Wait, no. Once more from the top. Scream in agony.”

Medic

Name: Susan Monks

Age: 30-40s

Height: 5’7

Nationality: American (New Jersey)

Bio: The American Healthcare system. Is there a more glorious sight? The exploitation of pain. The money. The debt. The fear it strikes into the entire population it’s designed to help. To Susan, there’s nothing better. She squeezes every last drop from the people she helps, working on a purely transactional lifestyle. She’ll never help someone unless she has all of their insurance information and the payment secure in her bank, and god forbid she ever accept help. It’s not like she can afford her own prices.

She’s very self-aware of her own corruption and proud of it, though she refuses to be exploited in the same way, suspicious of anything “free” but also doing her best not to pay for anything.

That said, she doesn’t much care for how good a job she does. In her eyes, asking for surgery is one thing. Asking for successful surgery is another. She has a variety of skills in both cosmetic and military medicine. She just wishes the license board would stop sending her “malpractice” letters. Ugh, stick to your own business. “Disappearing” all their messengers is becoming a pain.

Quotes: “Why get someone else to do something for you when you can scrounge a way to do it yourself?”

[constant-mason24]

Video Killed the Radio Star- Chapter Six

Riddler x F!Reader

Prev chapt | first chapt | Next chapt

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

She can still feel the pressure of his hands on her shoulders. It both disturbs and intrigues her.

It was roughly twenty past two in the afternoon as (Y/n) sat criss-cross on the couch with a bowl of stale cereal in her lap. There was no milk in the bowl; she had forgotten to buy any. It was nearly seven in the morning when (Y/n) had gotten home. The joys of working the night shift. Six or so hours of crummy sleep later, and she’s watching the aftermath of last night’s… festivities. 

The Riddler had not been caught. She tried not to be pleased by that. But despite his grand escape, it seemed the police had caught on to some kind of clue. After watching the reporter retell the facts of the night for probably the third time now, (Y/n) sighed and turned off the tv. She stared down into her bowl with a frown. She could go pick up that milk she had completely abandoned last night. It was better than sitting around waiting until Katie got home.

Grabbing her bag on the way out (and cringing at the slight smell of garbage), she locked the door on the way behind her and made the trek down to the store. Life on the streets went completely uninterrupted as if there hadn’t been a crime committed a block and a half up the road. Then again, what else was a city rife with scum and villainy meant to do? This kind of thing happened every night.

(Y/n) focused on avoiding eye contact with strangers on the street until she made it to the open door of her favorite little shithole store. She waved at the cashier again, this time a much more cheerful-looking woman, and made her way back to the milk cooler. She grabbed the carton she had been eyeing hours ago, taking it up to the counter.

“Hi, how ya doing today?” The woman- Cheri, her name tag read- grinned. 

“I’m alright. Just tired.” (Y/n) offered a much less energetic smile in return. This woman seemed kind. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m just peachy, dear. Is this gonna be all for ya?”

“Yes, ma'am!” She pulled her purse down off her shoulder to look through it for her wallet. The woman behind the counter bagged the milk, tucking her brown hair behind her ear as she stood straight again. 

“Your total is $3.09.” Cheri watched as (Y/n)’s brow furrowed, digging through her purse with a little more vigor. Where the hell was it?

“I’m sorry, I think I left my wallet at home.” She sighed in frustration. “I’ll have to go back to grab it. I’ll put that back where it came from.”

Cheri still smiled, though more sympathetically this time. “No worries, dear. I did that myself just last week. Hope ya find it!”

“Thank you.” (Y/n) takes the jug back to the back of the store, sighing once again. Another classic (Y/n) blunder. Just when she was feeling less forgetful lately too. Well, there was nothing she could do now but go back and grab it. She probably left it on her dresser or something. 

Waving at Cheri as she leaves the store empty-handed for the second time in the last ten-ish hours, she begins her silly little walk of shame home. About three yards down the street, she feels her phone vibrate. Pulling it out of her purse as she walked, she saw it was Katie. 

“Hey, K. what’s up?”

“Are you home right now? Jeremy and I wanna go grab some food and we wanted to see if you wanted to come with.”

“And be your third wheel? Again?” She raised a brow in jest, though Katie couldn’t see it.

“Duh, it’s your favorite pastime!”

(Y/n) laughs at that, shaking her head. “I would love to, but I can’t find my wallet, first of all. Second of all, I don’t think I even have enough in it to go out right now.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I just paid so I can cover ya.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah! It’s been a while since the three of us went out as a group.” Katie sounded genuinely excited.

“Alright, sounds good to me. I’m on Fifth right now, about two minutes out from the apartment.”

“Cool! Meet us in the parking lot?”

“You betcha!” 

Sure enough, as soon as (Y/n) started walking through the parking lot, Jeremy’s shitbox of a car slowly pulled to a stop alongside her. The window rolled down to reveal Jer wearing the ugliest shades (Y/n) had ever seen, a big goofy grin on his face. 

“Get in, dumbass, we’re going to McDonald’s!”

“We are NOT!” Katie leaned around him, pursing her lips as she shook her head. With a slight laugh, (Y/n) opened the back door and slid into the middle of the bench seat. 

“Well then, where are we going?” Jeremy asked, pulling the car forward to move as soon as the back door was shut and secure. 

“I kinda want Ricciardo’s.” Katie said, looking over her fingernails. She had just painted them the day before and she was very proud of her work.

“Not Bamonte’s?” (Y/n) leaned towards the front seat, wiggling her eyebrows and beaming at her. Katie rolled her eyes playfully. 

“I told you that place gives me the creeps! The staff gives me bad vibes.” 

“Well, Ricciardo’s sounds good to me. You, (Y/n)?” Jeremy looked through the rearview mirror. 

“Totally!”

“Well let’s go!” Jeremy jerked the car around a right corner, causing Katie to squeal out.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

A couple of hours later after plenty of laughter and good food, (Y/n)’s friends cruelly dumped her on her doorstep so they could go have a movie night at Jeremy’s. She knew that if she had work tonight the couple would have just stayed here, but they didn’t want to fool around with (Y/n) under the same roof.

She sincerely appreciated the consideration.

Unlocking the door, she entered the hall and sniffed at the purse in her hands. Yeah, this thing needed to be washed. And thus, its contents were promptly dropped onto the kitchen counter. (Y/n) found one of her other bags in her room, tossing the stinky garbage purse into the laundry basket. It was machine washable right? Meh, who cares.

Taking the clean bag with her, she began to slowly put each and every item back in her purse. Her chapstick, her pepper spray, her mini flashlight, that receipt from her trip to the aquarium with her dumbass ex last year that she affectionately kept for some reason. Yeah, on second thought that one can go in the trash.

(Y/n) frowned, not finding her wallet mixed in with any of her things. She really must have left it here somewhere. But she doesn’t remember where she put it. Looking over the countertop, (Y/n) made sure it wasn’t in the kitchen. Then she moved to the living room, checking couch cushions, and coffee tables. She checked her room, the dresser, the laundry, and the inner pockets of her stinky garbage purse. It was nowhere to be found. She even checked inside the refrigerator. What the hell?

After spending another fifteen to twenty minutes checking her room a second time, she heard a small scraping noise come from the living room. Freezing in her tracks, she sits up straight and listens. It sounded like the window in the living room was being opened. But that’s impossible… (Y/n) was home alone!

She wanted to cry. 

Standing slowly, trying to keep as stealthy as she could, (Y/n) reached out towards her dresser, where a baseball bat was stood against it in the corner. It wouldn’t be effective if the intruder had a gun, but it was better than nothing, she supposed. 

Now she waited against the wall at the doorway leading out of her room. She listened closely, trying to hear any signs of danger. It was dead silent out there. Taking a deep breath, she rounded the corner with the bat raised and ready. Stepping cautiously out of the hallway, she freezes and drops the baseball bat behind her with a soft gasp.

Standing before her is an entirely different kind of Bat. the kind that’s huge, incredibly ripped, and holding out a small teal-colored wallet.

“Looking for this?”

[twistedthingsa]

𝖔𝖕𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖔: m/f/anyone 𝖕𝖑𝖔𝖙: Jeremy is a golden boy homicide detective with the dark secret that he is a serial killer, while out getting a breakfast order he spots your muse & instantly becomes obsessed. hmu in DMS if you’d like to plot this out more, I have ideas.

   The mid-morning sun had just broken through the overcast clouds when Jeremy pushed open the door to a coffee shop, he was on duty but looked like any other patron walking into a coffee shop, typing away at a message in reply to his partner as he entered the place. Shaking the briskness of the morning off his shoulders the detective glanced up from his phone, pocketing the thing as he slowed his approach to the counter long enough to catch sight of everyone in the establishment. With that glance Jeremy had found his newest obsession, it was a feeling, perhaps the only thing he could feel– it started in his gut, cold and churning before it moved up into his chest to start his heart into a race. It took him a moment to focus on the menu after it happened, the barista was more than willing to give him all the time he needed, still, he apologized, ordered and then paid. He had to see them again, make sure they were real.

          The tall man moved over to the area where he would wait for his order, tugging out his phone again, shaking his head once slightly to rid the gnawing urge to look at them once more, just a glimpse. But he controlled himself, pushed the sensations down, reading the reply he’d gotten from his partner from the text he’d sent earlier and then he glanced over where they sat. They were beautiful, tucked away in their own little world, pouring over what was on the table before them, Jeremy studied them for a few more seconds before his order was called out and he retrieved it.

           It was out of his way, but not entirely so, he made it casual though, walking near their table, he slowed his step just a bit once he was in better eyesight, quickly scanning over their set up before he paused in stride, topic of conversation picked. “Careful reading that in public, people might believe you’re planning on killing someone,” he said, gesturing to one of the books, recognizing the title and author, a small smirk played at his lips before he shifted to stand opposite them on the other side of the table, still in the little walkway between tables, as if he didn’t have intentions on staying very long, despite his starting a conversation or at least trying to. “– I think it’s for a research paper or something similar, but, I’m really good at picking the bad guy out in a room.” In all cases, Jeremy was the bad guy in the room.

[a-clockwork-justice]

Everything I Love About Loser Geek Whatever

So, not too long ago, it was the third birthday of Loser Geek Whatever. Yes, I know the single was released on November 30th 2018 and its considered the song’s official birthday, but the 26th July three years ago was the first showing of the 2018 Off-Broadway revival of Be More Chill and the first time Loser Geek Whatever was shown to the world in any capacity. Therefore, I consider that day to be the song’s unoffical birthday and I’ve been waiting to write down everything I love about it so here I am. (This was originally gonna be posted on the 26th July but I can’t make anything concise so it took longer than that).

I’ve gone on and on about what Loser Geek Whatever means to me personally, how a slew of random chance introduce me to it, got me deep into Be More Chill, introduced me to 90% of my current friends, and overall up-ended my whole life, but now it’s time to dissect the song itself and why it’s so great. As much as I adore Loser Geek Whatever, it could’ve easily been any other song that threw me down a rabbit hole and that I could’ve latched onto- no, wait, it couldn’t have been, because Loser Geek Whatever is unique in that way. I did about a year of music at A-Level so I’m gonna delve into some of the technical aspects here too. I’m chronicling this mostly for myself so I am going as deep as I see fit because this song is a treasure hiding yet more treasures. If you happen to love Loser Geek Whatever as much as I do, this’ll be your goldmine.

So, grab a snack my fellow fans, because here’s a comprehensive list of everything to love about Loser Geek Whatever in roughly chronological order. Long post incoming:

The song starts off strong from the first millisecond - I don’t know what instrument(s) they used but just listen to the single version again - that opening chord blares at you like a siren. It calls for your attention, screaming this is incredibly important, and indeed it is. That chord, an F chord, has no indication as to whether it’s major or minor - it’s just the tonic F with its dominant C and another tonic F above it. In other words, it’s unresolved, it hangs in the air. From a narrative standpoint, Jeremy is at a crossroads, torn between giving into the SQUIP or staying loyal to Michael, and the music paints this. It has the same effect on both the single and album versions - I always hold my breath as it holds, it’s the gap in this crucial transition for Jeremy between who he was and him becoming something he isn’t.

To continue the thread of musical painting, the melody line contains the accidental E-flat which doesn’t belong to the key of F major. This once again illustrates Jeremy’s uncertainty, but there’s more - the whole introduction is a slowed-down version of the Apocalypse of the Damned theme from Two Player Game, arguably the point in the show when Michael and Jeremy’s relationship was at its strongest. Jeremy’s recalling everything he had with Michael, but the slowing down of the melody shows hesitancy, along with highlighting the accidental E flat. These latter points of course aren’t unique to Loser Geek Whatever - they’re also in the section of Upgrade that twins with Loser Geek Whatever. I’m just laying out why they work so well. 

I’m glad I waited until after I saw the show in London to finish writing this - I’m something of a Loser Geek Whatever purist, as made clear by my ire at them cutting it in half and tacking the end of Upgrade back on for the London version. I still enjoyed the show in London though and I’m glad I knew about this change ahead of time, because they did change something about the song that I think really worked - they added two notes in the bass to each bar, like heartbeats, which once again signifies Jeremy’s uncertancy and the importance of this major turning point.

It’s been firmly established by this point that Jeremy is a loser and he knows it. He doesn’t want to be a hero, he just wants to survive, but there’s a difference between that and feeling “inconsequential.” Jeremy is basically admitting that, in his eyes, it doesn’t matter to the world or anyone except Michael if he even survives or not. He’s not just a loser, or a geek - he’s a whatever, with no one caring who he is. And he’s felt this way for years - since middle school began. He’s now in his Junior year of high school - that’s five years of being in this state of being unnoticed at best and picked on at worst. He’s “the one who’s left out”. With just one little line, hell, one word, we’re given more layers as to why he so badly wants to change that.

Moving from the first verse to the chorus, we start to see Jeremy’s attitude shift, from being sad to being angry - he’s frustrated, resentful that he’s spent so long in this state (A lot of people have made similar comparisons about Will Roland’s Jeremy as a whole in relation to Will Connolly’s Jeremy and I think this song exemplifies that). He doesn’t deserve to feel this horrible - not now and certainly not for the next two years until he and Michael can be “cool in college.” When you think about it, what options does he really have? He could either give into the SQUIP or reject it and go back to where he was, still miserable and lonely. Yes, he has Michael and Michael is an amazing, kind, loyal best friend, but as many have pointed out, he’s also dismissive of Jeremy’s feelings of inadequacy whether he means to be or not, which only made Jeremy feel more lonely. Should Jeremy just expect to feel better about himself at some point before college? He’s waited for years, why would that happen at any other point?

More layers baby! Second verse, Jeremy rants on about his father’s advice about following his own instincts and how it’s gotten him nowhere he wants to be. Come to think of it, Michael’s advice about staying the same and waiting for their environment to change can be seen as similar - it’s arguably easier for Michael as he has two loving mothers who undoutably give him plenty of positive reinforcement. Meanwhile, Jeremy’s mother has left them, which likely instilled further feelings of not being good enough, and his father has fallen apart to the point where he can’t even put pants on, let alone step up to take care of his son, meaning that Jeremy likely isn’t going to take his advice very seriously, especially after it’s failed him so thoroughly. But to Jeremy, the problem isn’t necessarily the advice itself - it’s that it’s being followed by him. So now he’s going to turn around and put his life and every choice in something else’s hands, even if - no, especially if it goes against his own instincts. It still doesn’t feel quite right, it “feels bizarre”, but it’s getting him somewhere, so it has to be right in the most meaningful capacity, and to Jeremy, the “most meaningful capacity” is any capacity that isn’t his own.

Now the best line - the one about being a “normal, handsome guy”. Let’s get this on the table - Jeremy is trans. Will Roland himself said that he often thinks of the show’s young trans fans when he sings that line. Naturally, societal transphobia plus gender dysphoria would have a pretty catestrophic effect on the self-esteem of any growing teenager, even more so one in Jeremy’s situation for the reasons I’ve just laid out. He’s probably missed out on a lot of things that “normal” guys take for granted, with most girls barely looking in his direction, let alone in any positive manner. Jeremy’s own sexuality aside, it’s mostly society, and the SQUIP by extension, that considers scoring with girls to be a “manly” or masculine activity, and through Brooke treating him as dateable material, Jeremy feels better about fitting into society’s rules of how a man should be and act. This isn’t the only reason he feels good about Brooke finding him attractive, of course, but it’s just another layer that Jeremy sees more value in conforming to how society says he should be rather than in how he actually is.

I know I just said that the last point was about the best line, but honestly, there’s more than one best line in this song. The bridge is where we start to see Jeremy’s language becoming more technologically inclined - “prompt”, “command” and “bandwidth” are all terms used in computing and used to show how Jeremy is likening himself, or his intentions, to a computer, effectivly merging himself and his SQUIP into one entity and Jeremy willingly giving over his own individuality.

And HERE, we get to the kicker. I’ve talked a lot about layers throughout this whole essay, about themes and motifs building on each other. Jeremy is essentially peeling back the layers of his own situation and only finding reason after deeper reason after deeper reason as to why he should follow the SQUIP and not be a loser anymore. Now, he hits the core, the seed, the crux of it all - “The problem has ALWAYS BEEN ME!!” Everything he is, everything that makes Jeremy Heere himself, is and has always been wrong. This line is a gut punch and EVERYONE knows it - the performer always takes a few seconds to let it sink in before continuing.

As an aside, I wanna mention the differences between the single and the album versions of the bridge. The album version starts of quieter after the vocalising of the last chorus, and builds up to the climactic final line, while the single version is loud all the way through but gets even louder and punchier at the end. Both are good, but I personally prefer the single version - the album sounds like Jeremy is broken and desperate and on the verge of tears as he reaches his inevitable but ugly realisation. The single is also desperate, but it’s pleading and all-consuming and a THOUSAND times more powerful, I get chills every time I hear it. (Side note, the London version starts of loud like the single and ends quieter like the album, almost as if Jeremy is reluctant to admit what he truly believes about himself, and it’s easy to see why, it’s a damn harsh condemnation).

“Take a breath and get prepared” - Jeremy sings to both himself and the audience. The first half has been heavy and we need a breather. Yet just before he goes over the brink, he has second thoughts. His conscience, his own voice in his head, breaks through, warning him that his choice will have consequences for other people than himself. People will get hurt - Michael most of all. Not just by Jeremy ditching him; here’s something else - when Jeremy is the “cool dude”, he might end up being a bully to those who are losers just like him, cutting them down just as Rich’s SQUIP made Rich do to him. Who would be the perfect target for Jeremy’s potential future bullying? His former best friend and fellow loser, Michael Mell. It’s pretty damn likely that if the SQUIP hadn’t optic nerve blocked Michael, it would’ve told Jeremy to pick on him, and even though Michael has ostensibly been pretty good at brushing these things off before, the takedowns would hurt a LOT more coming from his former best friend - and we know this because IT ACTUALLY HAPPENS, granted without the SQUIP influencing Jeremy directly (also let’s just clear up that just because the SQUIP wasn’t on doesn’t mean its influence on Jeremy hadn’t disappeared - that’s not how emotional abuse works).

Twelve years of loyal friendship, of borderline unhealthy codependency … can he throw all that away for Christine, a girl he’s thus admired from afar and is only just starting to get to know as a person? Moreover, even if Jeremy gets Christine, what about himself, who he wants to be? He just wants to be something other than himself because he thinks that anything is better but … what? The cool dude, the hero or … whatever. He’ll take anything because he’s that desperate, but what about when he gets it? Will he finally be satisfied? Will it be worth failing his one real friend, an act so scummy that the only way he could possibly stomach it would be to somehow pretend he hadn’t done it?

But none of those questions matter to Jeremy now - he’s fully gaslit into believing that every thought and inclination that comes from himself is wrong and shouldn’t be followed. He needs to sync up with the SQUIP and the rest of the world and mute his own defective inner voice. When you think about it, the relationship between Jeremy and the SQUIP is one of the most intense abusive relationships ever put to fiction - we’ve seen emotional abuse and brainwashing before, but here, Jeremy is literally preventing from THINKING the wrong way because the SQUIP can detect his every thought. See what I mean when I say that doesn’t go away when the SQUIP turns off for a few minutes?!

Throughout all of this is the undercurrent of Jeremy wanting to get better. He’s been trying so hard for so long to have a better life, but nothing has worked. Not listening to his dad, not trying to get closer to Christine through theatre, and certainly not listening to Michael’s advice to wait until college. Why should he resign himself to even more time being miserable with no end in sight? After all, being cool in college isn’t a guarantee. After all he’s been through, it’s his turn to finally be cool, after an eternity of being someone he doesn’t want to be.

Another best line in this song - “I’m Player One.” As mentioned a few times in the show before, like in the Broadway upgrade, Jeremy feels lower even in his friendship with Michael - he’s Player 2 as the more experienced Michael is Player 1. As previously established, Jeremy admits that he’s “not the one who the story’s about.” Now he’s ready to finally take control of his life, be the main character and have good things happen to him, and that means cutting out Michael, the old Player 1. The irony here is that Jeremy is less like Player 1 and more like a video game avatar. In reality, the SQUIP is Player 1, making Jeremy do whatever it demands of him.

More best lines! The slew of insults towards the end serves not just as yet more gut punches for the audience but as a major catharsis for Jeremy - It’s telling that the insults get harsher as his rant goes on, from the “weirdo” to the “weakling freak” to the “failure” to the climactic “please don’t speak”. He’s unloading everything that he’s been carrying over the years, ripping out the bullets that have been embedded in his skin and re-opening all the wounds in the process, but he’s done with the pain and he’ll never ever let himself be hurt like that again, if he follows the SQUIP.

I’ve made a whole post about the significance of the best line “Please Don’t Speak” before so I’ll mostly be repeating a lot of what I said there because it’s been a while since that post and because I want to. Who would’ve said that to Jeremy? Probably not Rich or Chloe, it’s not like them. It had to have come from an adult in a position of authority that could’ve commanded Jeremy not to speak like that - one that apparently did so enough times for him to internalise those words like he did the others. (Even worse if it was more than one adult ...). Out of all of the insults, it’s easy to see how that can easily be the most scarring out of all of them - how would an adult let a child know they’re inadequate? By silencing them. Making it clear that their expression of self not only means nothing, but should be forcibly avoided. Put like that, it makes it much easier to see how and why Jeremy fell under the SQUIP’s influence so easily - telling it was hardly different from authority figures he’s experienced before. In even more sad irony, as Jeremy claims that he’s breaking free and letting go of his past as the “please don’t speak”, he’s just walking right into another, similar trap that he can’t easily escape from. The SQUIP literally vocal cord blocks him during The Play - if that doesn’t say “Please don’t speak,” what does?!

The climax is growing! The music shifts into the relative minor as Jeremy fully gives in to the SQUIP’s evil influence. This is the point of no return, the point where he’s literally being surrounded and overtaken - if you’ve seen this on stage or even just a bootleg, you’ll know what I mean, when the lighting shifts and the circuitry start closing in around him, it’s wonderful. The bass ascends, Jeremy declares once and for all that HE IS NOT THE LOSER, THE GEEK, OR WHATEVER, and he never will be again! As some have pointed out, the sequence of notes on the final “again” is the same as at the end of Be More Chill Part 2, except the last note is different. In BMC part 2, it goes further down by a minor third, but in Loser Geek Whatever, it rises up to the same note it started with. This foreshadows Jeremy’s fate - that he will eventually overcome the SQUIP and that he still has it in him to do so. Man, let me just point out how amazing that last belt is - it lasts for a full 15 seconds in a really high range and takes a LOT of control to bring it back up to the high B without breaking. This song really was written for Will Roland - his voice can pull it off seamlessly, but other actors and understudies have had to find workarounds. No disrespect to them, it’s a damn hard song and it kicks ass all the way through. Scott Folan apparently had trouble with it too, but on the day I happened to see him, he pulled it off without breaking, so props to him!

Overall, Loser Geek Whatever is my favourite song in Be More Chill and not just for its sentimental value to myself. It’s a genuinely deep, complex piece that earned every second of its six minutes. Loser Geek Whatever is definitely the missing piece the show needed - not only is it Jeremy’s solo song, it’s also his “I Want” song and, in a way, his 11 o’clock number all in one, as he’s having a major epiphany after going on a journey, albeit only half of one. It’s easy to see why Joe Iconis dubbed this his anti-Defying Gravity, but it’s also easy to draw parallels to No Good Deed - how both Jeremy and Elphaba vow to become something that society is forcing upon them rather than what they are, even if that society’s will is objectively worse for them. Loser Geek Whatever deserves a thousand times the recognition it has and I still wonder to this day what the fandom reaction would’ve been if it had been in the original soundtrack.

So, that was it. I’m not sorry it was this long.

TL;DR: Loser Geek Whatever is wonderful and anyone who doesn’t think so is wrong.

[fandomsonrequests]

tv trope

fandom: be more chill

characters: michael mell

reader: gn! 

word count: 1.5k+

summary:  To him, you were the walking definition of those television tropes of the denim-clad, badass person who practically oozes confidence. The people wanted to date or be with you when they got to know you. And he was whipped. Like so whipped, not even Jeremy’s pining over Christine matched up to it. And that alone is saying something. 

a/n: AHHHHH i love Michael mell (and george salazar cos why the hell not) so much ;^; he’s such a dork i just wanna hug him

Michael Mell always thought you were so cool— like The Matrix kind of cool. You weren’t really popular but you had a reputation around the school for being this tough kid who always stood up for themselves and didn’t take any shit being thrown at them. And, when circumstances permit it, you rode your freaking motorcycle to school. Not only that, you didn’t really flaunt anything off and spoke up when you needed to.

To him, you were the walking definition of those television tropes of the denim-clad, badass person who practically oozes confidence. The people wanted to date or be with you when they got to know you. 

And he was whipped. Like so whipped, not even Jeremy’s pining over Christine matched up to it. And that alone is saying something. 

But at the same time, he was scared. He wanted to talk to you so badly, to get to know you past the television trope he saw you as. He wanted to get to know you for you. And he probably would’ve done so already if all his insecurities and anxious thoughts wouldn’t come crashing down against him like a violent wave. 

For example, in Chemistry class. You were situated in the seat right in front of him and when Mrs. Clarke requested the students to pick a partner for the lab activity, Michael hesitated in reaching out towards you. His heart was all in for it but his head was telling him otherwise. 

What if they could smell the weed on you? What if they find your Pac-Man pin collection on your bag childish? What if they think you’re weird? What if they don’t like you? 

The poor boy would retract his hand and shrivel away as he watches you get whisked away by one of his other classmates. Now he understood what Jeremy felt before he got with Christine— talking to your crush was much easier said than done. 

And the cycle repeats daily. He works up the courage, getting some hype from his best bud, which slowly crumbles the second he comes within a five feet radius from you. He turns on his heel and runs away back to his locker, scolding himself for chickening out.

But fate was getting tired of this beating around the bush and decided to take matters in its own hands. 

Michael decided to go to the library to pick up some books he needed for school while he waited for Christine and Jeremy to finish up with drama. So imagine his surprise when he saw you in the corner of the library in the “reading nook”, a very familiar comic in your hands. His favorite video game had released a few issues of their new comic, a spin-off to the main plot in the game. Of course, he bought all of them— out of impulse— and was already halfway through the first half of the series. So when he spotted the bright cover of the comic amongst the warm, monotone colors of the library, he couldn’t help but be intrigued. 

Before he knew it, his feet were dragging him towards you. He took note of the faded Mötley Crüe shirt you wore along with a pair of acid-washed ripped jeans and your scuffed sneakers. A pair of earbuds were plugged into your ears, your head bopping along to whatever music you were listening to as you read your comic. 

He fiddles with the frayed sleeves of his red hoodie covered in those iron-on patches, thoughts of what he was going to say to you running through his head. He eventually ended up just backing out and settling with pining for you from afar but his movement had caught your attention, making you look up from your comic book.

Michael freezes up as his nerves took over him- eyes wide behind his dark-rimmed glasses. You quirk a curious brow, plucking out one of your earbuds before offering a small smile. “Hey Mell,” You greet cooly. “What’s up?”

You knew his name??? 

“Wh- wha- wait you know me??” The boy stammers as he nervously meets your gaze. 

You let out a soft chuckle and he couldn’t help but fall in love with the sound. “Yeah, you’re in a few of my classes. Of course I’d know you.” You uncross your legs and close your comic book to entertain him. 

“Oh, wow.. Uhm, it just seems l-like, uhm,” Michael continued, voice shaky while his hands grew clammy. “It, I mean you, you just s-seem like the type to not r-really know others.” 

You nod in understanding at his defense. “It’s the vibes I give off isn’t it?” You sigh and shake your head. You look up at him again and scoot over to the other side of the couch situated in the reading nook to offer him some space to sit on. “Well, I hope you believe me when I say that I’m not really scary.” 

He looks over to space you had made from him and back to you before going back to the space. It goes on for a couple of moments before he decides to sit down- but on the opposite side of the couch. You two say nothing for a while, just observing one another before you speak up again.

“Anyway, is there anything you need?” You tilt your head curiously, the small smile returning to your lips. 

“Ah, no not really,” Michael admitted and scratches the back of his head. “I just saw that you were reading Apocalypse of The Damned: The Laboratorium and I kinda just… gravitated towards you.”

Your smile morphs into a bright grin and the speckled boy decided right there and then, there was nothing brighter than that rare, million-dollar-smile of yours. “You know Apocalypse of The Damned?” You ask excitedly and clutch the comic book to your chest. 

“Like the back of my hand,” He replies as confidence starts to flood his system. “I practically bought the whole series.” 

Your hands fly to your mouth to muffle your excitement, shifting in your spot to look at him properly. “Have you finished it?”

“Halfway through it. But don’t worry, I’ll try not to give out any spoilers.” 

You let out some kind of excited squawk, red coating your cheeks at how stupid you sounded. This was definitely something Michael hadn’t expected. He expected you to be cold, aloof, maybe even a bit grouchy like Jade from Victorious but your personality was quite the opposite. And he couldn’t help but grow more enamored by that. 

“I wish I had friends that geeked out with me about these kinds of things,” You huff after your small laughing fit. “They always make fun of me for it.”

“What?? Are they crazy? They’re assholes for doing that to you.” 

“No, no. They aren’t really mean but they think it’s too dorky.”

“Well,” He motioned to you. “They’re clearly missing out on things.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, bashfully looking down at your hands while toying with the loose end of your earbuds. You nibble at the inside of your cheek before piping up again. “You’re pretty cool, Mell. We should hang out more often.”

Michael’s jaw almost drops at that. Not only did you invite him to hang out with you, but you had actually found him interesting. That you didn’t find him or any of his quirks weird. It was such an elating feeling, one that spurred his confidence even more.

“Does this weekend sound okay for you? We could go out, grab some sushi and maybe binge read the comics together at the old drive-in.” He offers, a bit sheepish, and you nod beaming from ear to ear. 

“Sounds great,” You fish out your phone and hand it over to him. “If you don’t mind, can I get your number? So we can coordinate this whole… I guess date later in the week.” 

Michael’s face turns a deep shade of red and you couldn’t help but giggle at that, your own cheeks flushing the same color. He was so damn adorable, you wondered why you hadn’t spoken to him sooner. He types in his number and hands you back your phone, smiling uncontrollably at what was happening. 

You glance down at the time on your device, seeing that you had to go home soon. “Well, I better head out. Keep in touch will you?”

“Y-yeah, roger that.” 

You stood up and gathered your things, turning back to him as you flashed him one last smile. “I’ll see you around, Mell.” 

He waved goodbye as you walked to the exit for the library, the lovestruck expression never leaving his face. He sighs dreamily, knowing full well that if his friends saw him now they’d tease him for being so whipped for you. He didn’t mind though because at least, he had something to look forward to this weekend.

Michael gave himself a mental pat on the shoulder for working up the courage to get to know the real you as he picked up the textbooks he needed. At least he knew now that you weren’t some tv trope but someone so much more. 

[shifted-nights-au]

Shifted Nights Part 5

They had a quiet dinner. Fast food, as expected. It was silent, scared, but comfy. Safe. After they finished their food, Henry navigated the nearby neighborhood and pulled into a driveway.

"Uhm, Uncle Henry?"

"Yeah?"

"This is...."

"Edd and Molly's house." Michael finished. "Why are we here?"

"Ev, how do you feel about staying with the Waltens for a bit?"

"H-huh?"

"I know you feel more comfortable at home, but right now, it's not safe for you or Michael to be there. You like the Waltens, yeah?"

Evan nodded. "B-but I don't have any more clothes!"

"I'll bring you some." He parks and shuts the car off. "I'll check in on you regularly. I called Jack earlier, they said they would be happy to look after you for a bit."

Evan exchanged confused glances with Michael.

"Its okay, baby bear. Henry knows what he's doing." Hopefully.

Henry got out of the car, opening the door for Evan and leading him up the driveway. Michael watched as a tall, rounder woman, he presumed the Walten kids' mother, answered the door and had a quick confersation with Henry. Before heading in, Evan cast a final glance and Michael and waved. The older boy waved back, and Evan disappeared into the house.

Michael fidgeted with his hands until Henry got back into the car.

"So uh..."

Henry stayed quiet, giving Michael a gentle nod of encouragement.

"What's gonna happen to me?" Michael asked quietly, unsure of himself. He's almost 30, why is he so nervous?

"I have someone I want you to see." Henry started the car and pulled out of the driveway, heading down a seperate road. The drive took a good ten minutes, the two sitting in total silence. Henry parks neatly beside a blue, busted up Jeep in an apartment building parking garage. The two walk in silence, Michael almost clinging to Henry's side. The older man chuckled.

"You can hold onto my arm if you want, Michael."

Michael shook his head. "I'm an adult, I'll be fine."

"Seriously, I don't mind."

It took a solid two seconds until Michael threw maturity to the wind and hugged onto Henry's arm. He only let go when Henry firmly knocked on an apartment door.

"I got it!" A small child giggled, bolting towards the door.

"No you do n-not. Fritz! G-get him, please!"

"Awwww!!"

Michael lightly exhaled at the humorous exchange.

The door swung open, revealing a man, similar to Michael's age, with a large scar covering the frontmost left part of his head, dipping a bit into his eye, and light brown, fluffy hair.

"M-mr. H-henry! Hey! What's up?"

"Hey! So, I need to call in a favour."

"Yeah! T-totally, wh-what do you need?"

Michael could barely think. There was no way it was him...was it? No.......was it?

"Jeremy?" Michael asked quietly eyes wide.

"U-uh....yeah..? How do you kn-know m-my name?"

"Jeremy, you remember Michael, right?"

Jeremy seemed to process the question, gasping slightly as his eyes widened. "No fucking way, M-Michael Afton?!"

The corpse felt his legs move on their own. There he was, Michael's best friend, the guitar in their band, the one who comforted him through his brother and sister's untimely ends. He threw his arms around the taller man, who quickly reciprocated and even went so far as to lift Michael off the ground.

"Mikey!!! Oh m-my god, I missed you!!!"

When Michael's feet hit the ground again, he heard another achingly familiar voice.

"Jeez, what's got you all riled up?"

A 6'5" wall of a redhead stood in the entry hall, looking over Jeremy's shoulder. He adjusted his glasses.

"F-Fritz! Its M-Mikey!!" Jeremy beamed.

Michael looked up at the tower of a man.

Good God, he's just as big as I remember.

"You're fucking joking." Fritz grinned, scooping Michael up into a hug. He plopped the corpse down in the doorway. "Jeez, man! You got fucking light!"

"Eh, losing your organs will do that to you." Michael mindlessly replied. He froze.

"........what?"

Henry cleared his throat. "Well, uh, Mike, this is where I'm dropping you off. I wanted to surprise you."

Michael turned and hugged Henry tightly, ready to ignore his previous statement. "How did you find them?"

"They worked for Fazbear's a while back. I kept contact with them after they quit. Figured once everything smoothed over you'd wanna see each other again. I know how much they mean to you."

Michael and Henry said their goodbyes, and Jeremy and Fritz welcomed their old bassist into their home.

[julemmaes]

Honey extra - The Sex Playlist + a little scene

Elide Lochan x Lorcan Salvaterre roommates au

A/N: I posted part five on the same day acosf was released, so if you didn’t see it, go read it, cause it’s.. long and it took me years to finish and I saw it didn’t get the same attention the previous parts did, and yeah

fic masterlist

this takes place somewhere between part five and six

Elide was one of the few lucky girls whose period was never too bothersome. The pain was always very bearable and only lasted a few hours, and most of the time, it wasn't even a real pain, just a slight pressure in the lower abdomen. She could go about her day without having to stop every few minutes because of a cramp - unlike Aelin, who died every month as if someone was stabbing her in the guts.

She also didn't have a heavy flow, which she would always thank the gods for, if they existed. She couldn't understand how her friends could put up with such misfortune.

Not that they could do otherwise, of course, but she was always in awe when they told her about their period-catastrophes. She knew that if it were her turn to suffer like that every time, she would rip her uterus out of her belly.

And at that moment, lying in a fetal position on Lorcan's bed, she wasn't entirely sure she'd be able to keep from doing it herself before the cramping stopped. Because for some strange reason, her body had decided to turn against her this month.

The last two weeks had gone by in the blink of an eye, she and Lorcan had fucked on every surface in the house and between work and classes and studying, Elide had gotten very little sleep. Considering also that every time she lay down, her boyfriend would slip in behind her and she couldn't say no to herself, to that pleasure so exhaustive and ecstatic, it made her forget that her body needed rest.

It had taken Lorcan to remind her that they couldn't go on like this.

So when she'd found a bloodstain in her underwear the previous night, just before going to bed after her shift at the diner, she hadn't worried so much and had thought that they'd finally take a few days off and maybe her body would calm down.

Elide wasn't a fan of period sex and the few times she'd done it she'd been so grossed out that she'd risked barfing in the middle of it. It simply wasn't for her.

What she hadn't expected though, had been cramps so strong they had pulled her from sleep in the middle of the night. Elide had gotten up and gone to the bathroom because she'd started moving around too much and didn't want to wake up the boy sleeping blissfully next to her. She had started pacing the living room, trying to figure out what the fuck she was in such pain for.

When it felt like someone had stuck both hands in her uterus and was digging their nails into her ovaries, Elide had knelt on the floor by the couch, leaning forward with her fists pressed against her stomach.

Lorcan had found her in that position around half past four.

To say he'd been scared out of his wits would be an understatement.

He'd thrown himself to the floor beside her almost immediately, all traces of weariness gone the second he'd heard her whimper in pain and seen that Elide was biting her lower lip so hard it was drawing blood.

When they had established that it was just her cycle, Lorcan had taken her back to his bed and now they were both lying between the soft blankets she had given him.

They had both been puzzled by this new symptom. After all, Lorcan had never seen her suffer from her period in all the years they had lived together and neither of them had expected it to be any different this time.

Elide had had to joke that it was the fault of his huge cock that had literally stabbed her in the uterus, and Lorcan had apologised in earnest, looking at her with wide eyes and pulling away a little, as if he really felt guilty. She had burst out laughing and then pulled him to her again, taking one of his arms and putting it around her body so that his big hand covered her belly.

He'd started moving his fingers over her lower abdomen, applying pressure from time to time when she seemed to tense up due to a cramp. It helped, somehow, to have him there to massage her. To hold her to his chest as they cuddled.

Now, Elide kept her eyes closed, his head resting on top of hers as they both dozed. Or at least she thought so, because Lorcan spoke, his rough, low voice too close to her ear, "How do you feel?"

She sighed, pulling her knees up slightly. His legs immediately followed her, as if they couldn't bear to be away from her body. She smiled, "A little better." then yawned, "I guess it's the fact that I was already tired as it is, what with university and all."

Lorcan hummed behing her, "I see," then he moved, pulling away only briefly, "maybe we should take it slower, with everything I mean."

Elide nodded slowly. She turned her head towards him, still with her eyes closed, but pursed her lips forward, silently inviting him to kiss her. He chuckled, but a second later their mouths clashed in a simple peck on the lips.

The music playing from the speakers suddenly changed from the sweet melody of a love song to something quite different.

"Cause I eat up for a while, let me through. The shake, the screaming aloud, I'ma fool. In my face you shake, leaking everywhere."

Elide's eyes went wide, "Lorcan!" she let go a surprised chuckle, "What is this?" she turned to him fully and could finally see the satisfied smirk on his face.

"It's a playlist I made yesterday," he then lowered his voice an octave, looking at her lips, "For when we can take the time to think about music instead of jumping right into it," he murmured.

Elide swallowed, nodding slowly, continuing to listen to the song.

Definitely very different from what he normally provided her with.

"I like it," she continued, then draped her arms underneath his, resting her head against his chest as he pulled her close to him and lay on his back, making her lie completely on top of him, "our sex playlist." she smiled, playing with the ends of his hair.

Lorcan hummed again and Elide felt it throughout her whole body when he said, "I called it 'elide'."

She had to force herself to calm the hot spirits that that new information had triggered in her body, but she was glad to know that he wouldn't be able to use that playlist with other people, considering it bore her name.

"I like it even more now," she confessed under her breath.

His arms tightened around her back and then his hands began to rub her lower back, where he knew she was feeling the most pain. Elide fell silent, enjoying his warm hands on her skin, and only had time to thank him before sleep beckoned her again.

The playlists

01.02

1. The Fixer – Brent Morgan

2. Why iii Love The Moon – PHONY PPL

3. Couch Potato – Jakubi

4. Anyway – Noah Kahan

5. comethru – Jeremy Zucker

6. Why Not Me – Forrest.

7. Loving – Surfaces

8. always, i’ll care – Jeremy Zucker

9. Like Strangers Do – AJ Mitchell

10. Yellow Lights – Harry Hudson

11. Glue Myself Shut – Noah Kahan

12. Colour Me – Juke Ross  

13. Lovesong (The Way) – Charlie Burg

14. Lucky Love – Michael Seyer

15. Freak In Me – Mild Orange

elide

1. Skin – Rihanna

2. Do It For Me – Rosefield

3. Body Party – Ciara

4. When We – Tank

5. Rockstar – Rihanna

6. F***in Wit Me – Tank

7. On Top – Trey Songz

8. Acquainted – The Weeknd

9. Freaky – Gemaine

10. Make You Feel – Alina Baraz

11. First Fuck - 6LACK & Jhené Aiko

12. Young God - Halsey

13. How Many Times – DJ Khaled

14. Fuck You All The Time – Jeremih

18.02

1. I Don't Know Me Like You Do – Low Hum

2. I Don't Wanna Be Okay Without You – Charlie Burg

3. Why Can't I Have You – Gloria Laing

4. If I Go, I'm Goin – Gregory Alan Isakov

5. Let Me In – Skinny Living

6. Reason To Hate You – Rhys Lewis

7. Be Your Man – Rhys Lewis

8. Yours – Jake Scott

9. Loved Us More – Munn

tog tag list (if you wanna be removed or added just send an ask or dm me)

@maastrash​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​ @sleeping-and-books​ @ladywitchling​ @thegoddessofyou​ @ghostlyrose2​ @claralady​ @anne-reads​ @sayosdreams​ @perseusannabeth​ @letstakethedawn​ @simping4bookboisngrls​ @post-it-notes33​ @booksstorm​ @nalgenewhore​ @queen-of-demons-and-hell​ @miserablemusings​ @lanyjoy-13 @vasudharaghavan​ @cupcakey00​ @bri-loves-sunflowers​ @queen-of-glass​ @thewayshedreamed​ @the-regal-warrior​ @fangirlprincess09​ @januarystears​ @rowaelinismyotp​

[suituuup]

crushing it

A day in the life of Bechloe with triplets and a seven-year-old. For the lovely @snowonebutyou as a birthday gift <3

rated: G

word cout: 1,600

ao3 link

*

Mornings in the Beale-Mitchell household are often chaotic. 

(who is Beca kidding. Always. Always chaotic.) 

When Abigail turned three, Chloe and Beca decided they wanted to have another baby. 

To their utter shock, it wasn’t one heartbeat that showed up on the ultrasound, but three. 

Three babies. Triplets. 

Following a few hours of panic (mostly on Beca’s end, because she would be the one birthing them), Chloe reminded Beca that they were the best team, and that they would, in Amy’s words, crush it. 

Fast forward four and a half years, Beca does believe they’re crushing it, even if it’s hectic from waking-up to drop-off and from pick-up to bedtime. 

Honestly, though? Beca wouldn’t change it for the world. 

“Mama, I’m lost!”

Beca glances over her shoulder to find Jacob struggling to put on her sweater as his head is stuck in the sleeve. 

She chuckles, abandoning Jamie for a second to crawl on all-fours over to her other son. “Hold on, baby.” She pulls on the sleeve and twists the sweater, Jacob’s head popping through in the right hole this time. “There you are. Now put your pants on, quick! We don’t wanna be late for school.” 

“Mamaaaaa!” Eleanor, the youngest of the tribe and by far the most mischievous one, zooms into the room from the bathroom. “My teeth are all brushed!”

Beca manages to bite back the f-word when she realizes Ellie also smeared toothpaste all over her top. She doesn’t want to stomp on her daughter’s pride by scolding her for being messy when she accomplished a task all by herself, and takes a deep, centering breath. 

“Good job. We might wanna change your top, though.” She pushes to her feet, rummaging through the dresser top drawer for something clean. “Here you go.” 

“That’s Jamie’s!” Eleanor cries, pouting. “It’s got a dinosaur on it, Mama!” 

“Yeah well lucky you, because dinosaurs are really cool.” 

That seems acceptable for Ellie, who accepts to switch without further argument. 

“Alright, let’s brush our teeths boys and go downstairs!” 

While one of them gets the triplets ready for school, the other puts their lunch boxes together and cleans up breakfast. 

“All good?” Chloe asks when they round the corner to the kitchen a few minutes later. 

Beca huffs, making a bee-line for the counter to take a much-needed sip from her coffee. Great, it’s cold. She grimaces and sets the mug down. “Ugh.” 

“I poured fresh one in your travel mug,” Chloe lets her know with a soft wink as she gives each triplet their backpack containing their lunches.  

Beca groans, snagging it. “I love you.” 

“Love you, too.” Chloe pecks Beca’s lips before calling upstairs, “Abigail, time to go!” 

“Alright monsters, shoes.” Beca ushers the triplets to the entryway where their shoes are stored. 

“I do it, Mama,” Jamie says, because they’ve obviously got time to practice shoe lacing this morning. 

Summoning the patience she definitely didn’t have before becoming a mom, Beca smiles, observing. She’s gotta admit, Jamie sticking his tongue out in concentration is adorable. “Cross, loop, loop and tie. Good job!” 

She high fives him, then grabs their three coats, handing them over. Their oldest appears and quickly puts her shoes on, standing on the tip of her toes to unhook her coat herself. 

“Alright, let’s roll, fam!” Once Chloe’s kissed each child goodbye, they step out of the house and pile into the van (yep, they’ve got a van now) with only two minutes behind schedule. 

“Mama play the song!” Eleanor requests once Beca’s pulled out of their driveway. 

Their children have impeccable taste in music, much to Beca’s pride. Ellie’s been obsessed with Lizzo’s Truth Hurts lately though, which… does include a few bad words and which landed Beca and Chloe a meeting with her Kindergarten teacher after Ellie apparently belted out “Turns out I’m a hundred percent that bitch” during recess. 

Later that day, Beca explained to their four-year-old daughter that the word bitch shouldn’t be said in public, even through song. 

They make it to school on time, Beca pulling up in the drop off section and watching her kids step out. “See you tonight guys, love you!” 

She enjoys the ten minutes of relative quiet over the drive to the office, contentedly sipping at her coffee as she hums along to the radio. After parking in her spot in front of the studio, she checks her phone to find a message from her wife. She chuckles, her cheeks warming up as she reads Chloe’s words. 

My love

Didn’t have time to tell you, but you’re rocking that work suit 🥵

Beca

Oh yeah? 

My love

Any chance you can stop by the clinic for lunch and… entertain me? 

Beca

Jesus, woman. 

I would, but today’s packed with meetings. 

I’ll make it up to you once the kids are asleep 😉

My love

Fine, I guess I’ll settle for that, then. Have a good day. Love you!

Smiling to herself, Beca replies with the same sentiment. 

Her work day is busy with meetings left and right and finishing up a project to meet the deadline, and Beca’s brain has turned to mush by the time she steps through the threshold of their home at the end of the day, a bit later than usual. 

Jacob, the most affectionate of their four kids greets her with a much-needed hug when she rounds the living room corner. Beca closes her eyes and inhales his shampoo, his hair still slightly damp from bath time. 

Bless her wife for handling the pre-dinner routine all by herself. 

“Thank you baby. Mama really needed that.” She lets him go, walking over to where Ellie and Jamie are playing on the floor and kissing each forehead. “Hey munchkins.” 

Abigail is coloring at the table while Chloe stirs something at the stove when Beca ventures into the kitchen next. She cards her fingers through her daughter’s red hair. “Hey baby. Whatcha drawing?” 

“Flowers,” the seven-year-old replies as she reaches for a different crayon. 

“Very pretty,” Beca says, bending down to kiss her head as well. She steps up to Chloe, wrapping her arms around her waist from behind. “Hey you.” 

Chloe leans back against her briefly. “Hi. Busy day?” 

“So busy. Thanks for handling everything by yourself, babe.” She brushes a kiss to Chloe’s cheek, squeezing her waist as she steps away. “Can I do anything to help?” 

“It’s almost ready so just get the kids to wash up?” 

Dinner is mostly entertained by their kids talking about the activities they did at school. Following a bit of playtime, both she and Chloe head upstairs to put them to bed. Abigail handles herself now, but she does still like for one of her moms to read her a story. 

“Mama?” She asks as soon as Beca closes the book to set it back on the shelf. 

“Yeah baby?” 

“What’s it like to be in love?” 

Beca blinks in shock, far from expecting that question from her seven-year-old. She supposes it’s better than the where do babies come from? bomb, but still. 

“Um, well…” she clears her throat, shifting so that she’s facing Abigail as opposed to sitting beside her. She thinks about her wife, and tries to put how she feels in clear words. “Basically, it’s… thinking about that person all the time, and feeling safe and really happy and… at home whenever you’re around them.”

“And you wanna kiss?” 

Beca purses her lips for a moment. “Um, sure. You may want to kiss them if you’re in love with them.” 

Abigail seems to mull that over for a little while. “Benjamin kissed me today, does that mean he’s in love with me?” 

Jesus Christ. Beca really wishes Chloe was here right now to handle this conversation. 

“No, not necessarily,” she says once she’s gathered her bearings. “People kiss other people without being in love. It might just be… an attraction, like, thinking someone is pretty.” 

Abigail grins. “I think he’s handsome.” 

Watching her seven-year-old daughter swoon over some boy is very unsettling and something Beca was definitely not ready for for another ten years at least. 

“So you wanted him to kiss you, then?” Beca asks tentatively to make sure that boy didn’t force Abigail to kiss him. 

Abigail nods. “It was cool.” 

Cool. Cool. Cool?! 

Beca sucks in a breath, mustering a smile. “Okay, as long as you agreed to it, that’s fine. You know that if a boy or a girl wants to kiss or hug you and you don’t want to, it’s okay to say no, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Good.” She bends down to kiss Abigail’s forehead. “Anything else before I go?” 

“Nope. Night, Mama.” 

“Goodnight, baby.” 

She tucks the covers up to Abigail’s chin and hits the main light on her way out, her brain reeling as she heads back downstairs. She finds Chloe folding a load of laundry on the couch with the TV on low, and lowers herself beside her. 

“What’s wrong?” She asks immediately, frowning at Beca’s expression. 

Beca clears her throat. “Our daughter is apparently… kissing boys.” 

“Which one?” 

“Abigail,” Beca hisses, shocked that Chloe would think that Ellie is old enough to be kissing anyone. 

Chloe simply smiles, picking up a pair of toddler jeans from the basket and folding them. “She’s seven, it’s pretty normal for her to explore those things.” 

Beca squints. “How old were you?” 

“About that age, I think. It was just a tiny peck.” She tosses the jeans on the folded pile and picks up another item. “My first real kiss was at thirteen.” 

“Who was it?” 

Chloe laughs, cocking an eyebrow. “What is this, an interrogatory?” 

“No, I’m just curious, I guess.” She shrugs, grabbing a towel from the basket to fold it. 

“His name was Jeremy. Too much tongue. Did not kiss him again.” 

“Ew. What is it with dudes and tongue?”

Chloe giggles. “Beats me.” She eyes her wife. “Who was yours?” 

“My neighbor Trevor. I was fifteen.” Beca closes her eyes and shudders exaggeratedly. “If I could erase it from my memory I would.” 

“Good thing you’re married to an excellent kisser to make up for the trauma, huh?” Chloe smirks and waggles her eyebrows, pulling a chuckle from Beca. 

“Dude, not to boost your ego even more or anything, but that first kiss sent me into another dimension. I just about forgot my own name.” 

“Aww. You were still a useless baby gay back then. Discovering the power of women.” 

“Shut up,” Beca mutters, shoving her wife as she flushes. She eyes the basket and groans. “How do we have so much laundry?” 

“Four kids, babe.” 

Beca sighs, then glances at Chloe, a smirk curving her lips. “Wanna leave it for tomorrow and make out?” 

Chloe’s on top of her before she can register it, muffling her squeak of laughter with a heated kiss. 

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CVIII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: Tomorrow I’m posting a hidden moment about what happens once the kids are at school and two former marauders are left alone. Stay tuned! -Danny

Words: 4,225 

Series’ Masterlist

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Listen to: ‘Better Off’ -by Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler

Chapter Six: Hidden Nightmares.

"Prefect, eh?" growled Moody, his normal eye on Ron and his magical eye swivelling around to gaze into the side of his head. Harry had the very uncomfortable feeling it was looking at him and moved away toward Sirius and Lupin.

"Well, congratulations," said Moody, still glaring at Ron with his normal eye, "authority figures always attract trouble, but I suppose Dumbledore thinks you can withstand most major jinxes or he wouldn't have appointed you..."

Mel took her friend away from Moody in case he decided to continue trying to scare him to death.

"I was never a prefect myself," said Tonks as she walked past them. "My Head of House said I lacked certain necessary qualities."

"Like what?" said Ginny.

"Like the ability to behave myself."

"Same reason why Mel didn't get a badge," Emily walked past her daughter. "I hope this works as a lesson..."

"Sure does, now I know I'm doing something right," Mel smirked.

"What about you, Sirius?" Ginny asked.

"No one would have made me a prefect! I spent too much time in detention with James. Lupin was the good boy, he got the badge."

"I think Dumbledore might have hoped that I would be able to exercise some control over my best friends," said Lupin. "I need scarcely say that I failed dismally."

"What about my dad?"

"Matthew was a brilliant student but Dumbledore knew that giving him the badge would've been like given us green light to go around doing whatever we pleased," Sirius grinned.

"Again, same the reason why Dumbledore didn't give you a badge," Lupin smiled.

"You really think I would let my friends do mischief without any consequences?" Mel feigned indignation.

"Yes," The three adults replied.

"Well, I think I'll sort out that boggart before I turn in... Arthur, I don't want this lot up too late, all right? 'Night, dears."

Mel walked into Harry just as he was getting up and she stumbled backwards.

"Sorry," He said quickly.

"It's fine..."

"You all right?" Moody asked them.

"Yeah, fine."

"Lovely dinner," Mel smiled tensely.

"Come here, I've got something that might interest you," He told them.

From an inner pocket of his robes Moody pulled a very tattered old Wizarding photograph.

"Original Order of the Phoenix," growled Moody. "Found it last night when I was looking for my spare Invisibility Cloak, seeing as Podmore hasn't had the manners to return my best one... Thought people might like to see it."

Harry took the photograph and Mel leaned closer to take a look.

"There's me," said Moody. "And there's Dumbledore beside me, Dedalus Diggle on the other side... That's Marlene McKinnon, she was killed two weeks after this was taken, they got her whole family. That's Frank and Alice Longbottom — Poor devils, better dead than what happened to them... and that's Emmeline Vance, you've met her, and that there's Lupin, obviously... Benjy Fenwick, he copped it too, we only ever found bits of him... shift aside there–

That's Edgar Bones... brother of Amelia Bones, they got him and his family too, he was a great wizard... Sturgis Podmore, blimey, he looks young... Caradoc Dearborn vanished six months after this, we never found his body... Hagrid, of course, looks exactly the same as ever... Elphias Doge, you've met him, I'd forgotten he used to wear that stupid hat... Gideon Prewett, it took five Death Eaters to kill him and his brother Fabian, they fought like heroes... budge along, budge along... That's Dumbledore's brother, Aberforth, only time I ever met him, strange bloke..."

It was the first time she'd ever seen of her grandfather. He looked a lot like Dumbledore, but he lacked the warm gaze and the fancy robes. He had the same hair colour as her though, and there was a similarity between his nose and her dad's.

"That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally... Sirius, when he still had short hair... and... there you go, thought that would interest you! Eh?"

Five people were staring up at them: Petter Pettigrew, Lily and James Potter, and her own parents.

"That's great," She tried to sound enthusiastic. "Look at that..."

"Yeah," Harry's voice sounded heavy. "Er... listen, I've just remembered, I haven't packed my..."

"What's that you've got there, Mad-Eye?" Sirius asked loudly from the table.

Harry left so quickly she almost thought he'd disapparated, she understood though, that picture was full of ghosts, and for some reason, she felt kind of responsible for them– maybe Harry felt that way too, after all, it was him Voldemort was after...

The adults surrounded the table and stared at the picture, there were tons of quiet exclamations and nostalgic chuckles as they examined it, but what made her leave the room was the way she knew her mother and Sirius had finally found their friends' faces staring up at them, she could see something dark and heavy falling on their features.

Mel didn't feel like sticking around to hear stories about when they were all young and alive, when Peter was still Peter and not the traitor that had gotten his friends killed. It was stupid to remember something they couldn't have back.

She was in the main hall when she heard someone crying.

"No! No... riddikulus! Riddikulus! RIDDIKULUS !"

Mel ran up the stairs and found Harry looking at Mrs Weasley... She was sobbing above a second Harry, only that this one was dead.

'Boggart', Mel thought.

"Harry, we need to get help–"

"Mrs Weasley, just get out of here!" Harry's eyes fixed on the vision of his own body. "Let someone else —"

"What's going on?" Lupin rushed in followed by Sirius and Emily. Moody was right behind them."Riddikulus!"

Mrs Weasley wept harder.

"Molly– Molly, don't... Molly, it was just a boggart," Lupin patted her head gently. "Just a stupid boggart..."

"I see them d-d-dead all the time! All the t-t-time! I d-d-dream about it..."

She had been dreaming the same thing that summer– hell, her boggart had been the same thing years before that! Seeing it again that night caught her off guard. A thousand different images of Harry trapped in the cemetery came to her, the pain she'd felt that night, the memory of Cedric's body laying on the grass...

She tried to get out of the room as fast as possible.

"D-d-don't tell Arthur– I d-d-don't want him to know... Being silly... Harry, I'm so sorry, what must you think of me? Not even able to get rid of a boggart..."

"Don't be stupid," said Harry, sounding impressively calm.

"I'm just s-s-so worried– Half the f-f-family's in the Order, it'll b-b-be a miracle if we all come through this... and P-P-Percy's not talking to us... What if something d-d-dreadful happens and we had never m-m-made up? And what's going to happen if Arthur and I get killed, who's g-g-going to look after Ron and Ginny?"

"Molly, that's enough," said Lupin. "This isn't like last time. The Order is better prepared, we've got a head start, we know what Voldemort's up to — Oh, Molly, come on, it's about time you got used to hearing it — look, I can't promise no one's going to get hurt, nobody can promise that, but we're much better off than we were last time, you weren't in the Order then, you don't understand, last time we were outnumbered twenty to one by the Death Eaters and they were picking us off one by one..."

"Don't worry about Percy," said Sirius. "He'll come round. It's a matter of time before Voldemort moves into the open; once he does, the whole Ministry's going to be begging us to forgive them. And I'm not sure I'll be accepting their apology..."

"And as for who's going to look after Ron and Ginny if you and Arthur died," Lupin looked up to Emily and smiled a bit, "what do you think we'd do, let them starve?"

"Certainly not!" Emily kneeled beside her, hugging her by the shoulders. "Not after all you've done for us! After seeing how much you care about Harry! You're one of the best friends I've had in a long time, I would never abandon your children..."

Harry turned and locked eyes with Mel. He had a distraught expression on his face as he watched her cover her mouth, struggling to breathe.

One time when she was six, Mel had to be taken to the nurse because some kids cornered her in the playground and she lost it; a teacher carried her out. When her mother arrived they told her Mel had suffered a panic attack.

A panic attack wasn't exactly a good omen nor the best way to spend her last night before going back to school, but she had no control over it.

"Deep breaths, Mel..." Harry muttered, quickly making his way towards her. "It's okay–"

The boy tried to touch her and that stirred her into action. Mel slapped his hand out of the way and ran out before someone could stop her. She ran up all the way to Buckbeak's layer and she locked herself there until her crying stopped.

"WILL YOU LOT GET DOWN HERE NOW, PLEASE!" Mrs Weasley yelled.

Mel let out a pained groan, her head was pounding after last night and all she wanted was to get to the train so she could take a nap. Mrs Black's portrait was howling, but no one tried to close the curtains since the house was loud with voices coming from every floor, all gathering their stuff before leaving.

"I'm dying," The girl leaned on her mother's shoulder. The woman ran her fingers through her hair tenderly.

"You had a rough night. Been years since you had one of those..."

"It was the stupid boggart," She muttered. "I'm okay now. I'll see Erick, so that's kind of cool..."

"You and Harry haven't talked, then?"

"Mum..."

"I'm not trying to force you–"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Sirius, Dumbledore said no!"

A dog ran into the hall, looking rather lively.

"Oh honestly... well, on your own head be it!"

Mrs Weasley, Emily, Mel, Harry and Sirius all left the house together.

"Where's Tonks?" Harry asked.

"She's waiting for us just up here," said Mrs Weasley.

"Wotcher, guys," Tonks -disguised as an old woman- winked at them. "Better hurry up, hadn't we?"

"I know, I know... but Mad-Eye wanted to wait for Sturgis... If only Arthur could have got us cars from the Ministry again... but Fudge wouldn't let him borrow so much as an empty ink bottle these days... How Muggles can stand travelling without magic..."

Sirius was having the time of his life though, running around chasing pigeons and barking loudly. Mel and Harry laughed at his antics, Emily rolled her eyes and mumbled something about him being a child.

As they walked through the streets watching Sirius chase cats and go crazy with the poor birds, she felt Harry glancing at her from time to time. Mel knew he only wanted to help, and perhaps he was a little hurt about the way she'd reacted last night. However, she was far from even acknowledging that she'd cried in front of so many people.

"I felt it, you know?" Harry said when no one was paying attention. "Your panic attack..."

"I figured," Mel said numbly. "It's the lifeline... doesn't matter, I have it under control."

"I could've helped," He insisted. "When we were little–"

"We're not little anymore," She replied sternly. "You handle your stuff, I handle mine. That's what we agreed on."

Harry's jaw clenched, he didn't speak after that.

It felt like a type of rebirth when she crossed the platform and found herself in front of the scarlet train.

"I hope the others make it in time," said Mrs Weasley.

"Nice dog, guys!" called Lee Jordan.

"Thanks, Lee," said Harry.

Sirius made a show of himself, acting as the perfect puppy.

"Mel, come here for a moment," Emily drew her away from the group, looking anxious.

"What is it?"

"I didn't say anything until now because I didn't want to make you uncomfortable during your stay but... oh, well..."

She noticed how her mother glanced at Sirius, who was rolling around at Harry's feet.

"Mum... Are you and Sirius... a thing?"

Her mother hesitated.

"I know you've noticed how... I mean, we've... we're not exactly together."

"Oh," She frowned. "Why not?"

"What?"

"If you want to be a couple, then be one."

"I... you... you're not upset?"

Mel gave her a small smile. "You deserve to be happy. I want you to be happy. If being with Sirius gives you that, I have nothing against it. He's a good man– bit stubborn, but he treats you well, right?"

"He was always a good friend..."

"I hope all goes well, then."

The woman stared as if she'd mistaken Mel for someone else.

"You have more of Matthew than you could ever have of me, you know?" Emily beamed. "I'm thankful for that."

"Sirius would be an idiot if he rejects you, to be honest."

Her mother laughed.

"Don't get your hopes up about this, though..."

"I trust you," Mel brushed it off, hugging her one last time before going back to the group.

Five minutes later Lupin was wishing her a safe journey. Mel held onto him tightly, his scent filling her lungs.

"I'm going to miss you lots," She mumbled against his chest.

"You'll see me soon," Lupin rubbed her back. "Now, just because you weren't made a prefect doesn't mean you're allowed to misbehave. Make us proud."

Sirius ran up to her and crashed against her legs, she kneeled and hugged him as well.

"I'll miss you too, Snuffles... look after my mother while I'm gone, okay?"

He barked, snuggling his face closer to hers.

"Well, look after yourselves," Lupin told the rest of the teenagers. "You too, Harry. Be careful."

"Yeah, keep your head down and your eyes peeled," said Moody. "And don't forget, all of you — careful what you put in writing. If in doubt, don't put it in a letter at all."

"It's been great meeting all of you," said Tonks. "We'll see you soon, I expect."

"Quick, quick," said Mrs Weasley as the whistle blew a second time. "Write... Be good... If you've forgotten anything we'll send it on... Onto the train, now, hurry..."

For one brief moment, the great black dog reared onto its hind legs and placed its front paws on Harry's shoulders, but Mrs Weasley shoved Harry away toward the train door hissing, "For heaven's sake act more like a dog, Sirius!"

"See you!" Harry yelled from the door.

The black dog chased the train barking madly until they turned, then he vanished.

"He shouldn't have come with us," Hermione murmured.

"Oh lighten up, he hasn't seen daylight for months, poor bloke," Ron shook his head.

"Well, can't stand around chatting all day, we've got business to discuss with Lee. Are you coming with us, Lady?" Fred asked.

"Maybe later," She shrugged.

"All right, see you later!"

"Shall we go and find a compartment, then?" Harry asked.

"Er..."

"We're — well — Ron and I are supposed to go into the prefect carriage," Hermione said awkwardly.

Suddenly Mel felt really bad about not going with Fred and George.

"Oh," Harry tensed next to her. "Right. Fine."

"I don't think we'll have to stay there all journey," said the girl. "Our letters said we just get instructions from the Head Boy and Girl and then patrol the corridors from time to time."

"Fine– Well, we... might see you later, then."

"Yeah, definitely. It's a pain having to go down there, I'd rather — but we have to — I mean, I'm not enjoying it, I'm not Percy."

"I know you're not," said Harry.

"I'll tell Erick you say hi, Mel," Hermione offered, thinking that would ease her mind.

"Brilliant," She said without much excitement.

"Come on," Ginny spoke, Mel felt immense relief as she turned to look at the girl, "if we get a move on we'll be able to save them places."

"Right," said Harry, and he looked as pleased as her.

After a while of silent walking, they ran into Neville, which was even better, more people to talk to.

"Hi, guys– Hi, Ginny... Everywhere's full... I can't find a seat..."

"What are you talking about?" said Ginny. "There's room in this one, there's only Loony Lovegood in here —"

"I don't want to disturb anyone..."

"Don't be silly," Ginny chuckled. "She's all right."

They all followed her inside.

"Hi, Luna! Is it okay if we take these seats?"

The girl beside the window looked up. She had straggly, waist-length, dirty-blond hair, very pale eyebrows, and protuberant eyes that gave her a permanently surprised look. Harry knew at once why Neville had chosen to pass this compartment by. The girl gave off an aura of distinct dottiness. Perhaps it was the fact that she had stuck her wand behind her left ear for safekeeping, or that she had chosen to wear a necklace of butterbeer caps, or that she was reading a magazine upside down. Her eyes ranged over Neville and came to rest on Harry. She nodded.

"Thanks," said Ginny.

In the middle of all the movement of putting away trunks and pets, Mel and Harry somehow found themselves seated together. The girl thought it'd look suspicious if she were to move now, it would confirm that she was actively avoiding him.

"Had a good summer, Luna?" Ginny asked.

"Yes. Yes, it was quite enjoyable, you know. You're Harry Potter."

"I know I am," said Harry, frowning slightly.

Her eyes then moved to the next person, which happened to be her.

"You're a Dumbledore."

"Yeah, people keep saying that," Mel said.

Luna moved to Neville. "And I don't know who you are."

"I'm nobody," He said.

"No you're not," said Ginny. "Neville Longbottom — Luna Lovegood. Luna's in my year, but in Ravenclaw."

"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure," sang Luna.

"Guess what I got for my birthday?" Neville asked them.

"Another Remembrall?" Harry teased.

"No– I could do with one, though, I lost the old one ages ago... No, look at this... Mimbulus mimbletonia."

"Sick!" Mel beamed. "Er- in a good way..."

"It's really, really rare," said Neville excitedly. "I don't know if there's one in the greenhouse at Hogwarts, even. I can't wait to show it to Professor Sprout. My great-uncle Algie got it for me in Assyria. I'm going to see if I can breed from it."

"If you do manage, I'd love to have one," Mel eyed the plant with interest.

Harry did a strange noise next to her and she stared back, daring him to speak.

"Does it — er — do anything?" He asked, glancing nervously at her.

"Loads of stuff! It's got an amazing defensive mechanism — hold Trevor for me..."

Neville put the toad on Harry's hands. Luna was staring again.

Neville held the Mimbulus mimbletonia up to his eyes, his tongue between his teeth, chose his spot and gave the plant a sharp prod with the tip of his quill.

Liquid squirted from every boil on the plant, thick, stinking, dark-green jets of it; they hit the ceiling, the windows, and spattered Luna Lovegood's magazine. Ginny, who had flung her arms up in front of her face just in time, merely looked as though she was wearing a slimy green hat, but Harry, whose hands had been busy preventing the escape of Trevor, received a face full. It smelled like rancid manure.

Neville, whose face and torso were also drenched, shook his head to get the worst out of his eyes.

"S-sorry," he gasped. "I haven't tried that before... Didn't realize it would be quite so... Don't worry, though, Stinksap's not poisonous," he added nervously, as Harry spat a mouthful onto the floor.

Mel cackled, cleaning her face without an ounce of grumpiness.

"That was amazing!"

The door of their compartment slid open abruptly.

"Oh... hello, Harry. Um... bad time?" Cho stared at the lot with an anxious expression.

"Oh... hi," Harry quickly tried to clean his face.

"It's a terrible time," Mel said brightly, "We stink."

"Um... well... just thought I'd say hello... 'bye then."

Cho Chang was blushing when she closed the door. She heard Harry groan and fall back on his seat.

"Never mind," said Ginny. "Look, we can get rid of all this easily. Scourgify!"

"Sorry," said Neville timidly.

"Don't be, that was really interesting to watch," Mel smiled.

Neville blushed at her comment.

"I'm starving," Ron walked in, Mel quickly made room between her and Harry, which he took without even noticing.

"Well, there are two fifth-year prefects from each House," said Hermione. "Boy and girl from each."

"And guess who's a Slytherin prefect?" said Ron.

"Malfoy," replied Harry.

" 'Course," Ron made a face.

"And that complete cow Pansy Parkinson," said Hermione to Mel. "How she got to be a prefect when she's thicker than a concussed troll..."

"Cheating of course," Mel shrugged.

"Who's Hufflepuff?" Harry asked.

"Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott," said Ron.

"And Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil for Ravenclaw," said Hermione. "Oh! Erick seemed fine, Mel– couldn't talk to him because of Malfoy, of course..."

"We're supposed to patrol the corridors every so often," Ron explained, "and we can give out punishments if people are misbehaving. I can't wait to get Crabbe and Goyle for something..."

"You're not supposed to abuse your position, Ron!"

"Yeah, right, because Malfoy won't abuse it at all."

"So you're going to descend to his level?"

"No, I'm just going to make sure I get his mates before he gets mine."

"For heaven's sake, Ron —"

"He's not being unfair, is he?" Mel defended him. "If anyone deserves detention, that's them..."

"I'll make Goyle do lines, it'll kill him, he hates writing," Ron then pretended to be the Slytherin. "I... must... not... look... like... a... baboon's... backside..."

Everyone laughed, but nobody laughed harder than Luna Lovegood. She let out a scream of mirth that caused Hedwig to wake up and flap her wings indignantly and Crookshanks to leap up into the luggage rack, hissing. She laughed so hard that her magazine slipped out of her grasp, slid down her legs, and onto the floor.

"That was funny!"

Her prominent eyes swam with tears as she gasped for breath, staring at Ron. Utterly nonplussed, he looked around at the others, who were now laughing at the expression on Ron's face and at the ludicrously prolonged laughter of Luna Lovegood, who was rocking backward and forward, clutching her sides.

"Are you taking the mickey?"

"Baboon's... backside!"

"Hey, Lovegood," Mel grinned. "We're going to be great friends..."

"Can I have a look at this?" Harry asked Luna. He was staring at the magazine she'd dropped. "Mel, have a look at this, will you?"

He was showing her an article over Ron's shoulder.

SIRIUS - Black As He's Painted?

Notorious Mass Murderer OR Innocent Singing Sensation?

For fourteen years Sirius Black has been believed guilty of the mass murder of twelve innocent Muggles and one wizard. Black's audacious escape from Azkaban two years ago has led to the widest manhunt ever conducted by the Ministry of Magic. None of us has ever questioned that he deserves to be recaptured and handed back to the dementors.

BUT DOES HE?

"What is this?" Mel asked, her voice slightly shaking with contained laughter.

"Hang on," Harry said distractedly. "This one's about Fudge.."

Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, denied that he had any plans to take over the running of the Wizarding Bank, Gringotts, when he was elected Minister of Magic five years ago. Fudge has always insisted that he wants nothing more than to "cooperate peacefully" with the guardians of our gold.

BUT DOES HE?

Sources close to the Minister have recently disclosed that Fudge's dearest ambition is to seize control of the goblin gold supplies and that he will not hesitate to use force if need be.

"It wouldn't be the first time, either," said a Ministry insider. "Cornelius 'Goblin-Crusher' Fudge, that's what his friends call him..."

"Anything good in there?" asked Ron.

"Of course not," said Hermione. "The Quibbler's rubbish, everyone knows that."

"Excuse me," said Luna. "My father's the editor."

Mel had to bit her lip to not make a sound.

"I — oh. Well... it's got some interesting... I mean, it's quite..."

"I'll have it back, thank you," Luna took back the magazine and buried her face behind it.

The door to the compartment opened again.

"What?" Harry snapped at Malfoy.

"Manners, Potter, or I'll have to give you a detention... You see, I, unlike you, have been made a prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments."

"Yeah, but you, unlike me, are a git, so get out and leave us alone."

The group laughed. Mel felt something crawling up her chest, ready to pounce.

"Tell me, how does it feel being second-best to Weasley, Potter?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Hermione.

"I seem to have touched a nerve... Well, just watch yourself, Potter, because I'll be dogging your footsteps in case you step out of line."

"Get out!" said Hermione sharply.

Mel's heart skipped a beat.

Dogging.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world​

[newstfionline]

Tuesday, April 13, 2021

Biden’s Infrastructure Push Spurs a Flurry of Lobbying in Congress (NYT) Members of Congress have begun a frenzy of lobbying to ensure that their pet projects and policy priorities are included in President Biden’s $2 trillion infrastructure and jobs plan, eager to shape what could be one of the most substantial public works investments in a generation. Officials across the country are dusting off lists of construction projects and social programs, hoping to secure their piece of a plan aimed at addressing what the administration estimates is at least $1 trillion worth of backlogged infrastructure improvements, as well as economic and racial inequities that have existed for decades. “My phone is blowing up,” Pete Buttigieg, the transportation secretary, said in an interview. Nearly every lawmaker “can point to a road or a bridge or an airport” in his or her district that is in dire need of repair.

Truck seized over ‘munitions of war,’ 5 forgotten bullets (AP) Gerardo Serrano ticked off the border crossing agents by taking some photos on his phone. So they took his pickup truck and held onto it for more than two years. Only after Serrano filed a federal lawsuit did he get back his Ford F-250. Now he wants the Supreme Court to step in and require a prompt court hearing as a matter of constitutional fairness whenever federal officials take someone’s property under civil forfeiture law. The justices could consider his case when they meet privately on Friday. It’s a corner of the larger forfeiture issue, when federal, state or local officials take someone’s property, without ever having to prove that it has been used for illicit purposes. Since 2000, governments have acquired at least $68.8 billion in forfeited property, according to the Institute for Justice, a libertarian public interest law firm that represents Serrano and tracks seizures. The group says the number “drastically underestimates forfeiture’s true scope” because not all states provide data. Serrano’s troubles stemmed from some pictures he took along the way of a long trip from his home in Tyner, Kentucky, to visit relatives, including a dying aunt, in Zaragosa, Mexico. The photo-taking attracted the attention of U.S. Customs and Border Protection agents in Eagle Pass, Texas. When Serrano refused to hand over the password to his phone, the agents went through the 2014 silver pickup truck in great detail. They justified its seizure by saying they found “munitions of war” inside—five forgotten bullets, though no gun. Told to park the truck, he said, he complained a bit before one agent reached into the pickup, opened the door, unfastened Serrano’s seat belt and yanked him out of the vehicle. “I got rights, I got constitutional rights and he snaps back at me, ‘You don’t have no rights here. I’m sick and tired of hearing about your rights.’ That took me aback,” Serrano said.

Should the U.S. boycott the 2022 Winter Olympics in China? (Washington Post) As if there aren’t enough sources of Sino-U.S. friction already, an emerging new irritant may soon outpace the rest: the growing calls for a boycott of Beijing’s 2022 Winter Olympics. The games are still 10 months away. But it’s not too early for the event to turn into a flash point. Critics of China’s ruling Communist Party—including a coalition of more than 180 human rights organizations—argue that the regime’s record of human rights abuses and geopolitical malfeasance ought to deprive it of the right to burnish its image with a spectacle like the Olympics. “Beijing won the right to host the 2022 Olympics in 2015, the same year it cracked down on lawyers and activists across China,” Chinese human rights lawyer Teng Biao wrote earlier this year. “Since then, it has detained journalists; harassed and attacked activists and dissidents even outside China’s borders; shut down nongovernmental organizations; demolished Christian churches, Tibetan temples and Muslim mosques; persecuted, sometimes to death, believers in Falun Gong; and sharply increased its control of media, the Internet, universities and publishers.” An Olympic boycott has become a popular cause among Republicans. Major sporting events—and especially international spectacles like the Olympics—always bear a political dimension.

‘Huge’ explosion rocks St. Vincent as volcano keeps erupting (AP) La Soufriere volcano fired an enormous amount of ash and hot gas early Monday in the biggest explosive eruption yet since volcanic activity began on the eastern Caribbean island of St. Vincent late last week, with officials worried about the lives of those who have refused to evacuate. Experts called it a “huge explosion” that generated pyroclastic flows down the volcano’s south and southwest flanks. “It’s destroying everything in its path,” Erouscilla Joseph, director of the University of the West Indies’ Seismic Research Center, told The Associated Press. “Anybody who would have not heeded the evacuation, they need to get out immediately.” The ongoing volcanic activity has threatened water and food supplies, with the government forced to drill for fresh water and distribute it via trucks. “We cannot put tarpaulin over a river,” said Garth Saunders, minister of the island’s water and sewer authority, referring to the impossibility of trying to protect current water sources from ongoing falling ash.

Colombia’s cartels target Europe (The Guardian) At 5 am on a chilly Tuesday morning last month, 1,600 police officers and balaclava-wearing special forces, bristling with arms and battering rams, were ordered into action around the Belgian port city of Antwerp. More than 200 addresses were raided in what was the largest police operation ever conducted in the country and potentially one of the most significant moves yet against the increasingly powerful narco-gangs of western Europe. An incredible 27 tonnes of cocaine have been seized on Antwerp’s quays, in container ships and safe houses, with an estimated value of €1.4bn (£1.2bn), and many arrests have been made. It has been hailed as a mighty blow against what Belgian federal prosecutor Frédéric Van Leeuw calls “a world where morality has totally disappeared”, but Operation Sky has also highlighted a chilling development. Europe has eclipsed the US as the Colombian cartels’ favoured market, because of higher prices and much lower risks posed by European governments in terms of interdiction, extradition and seizure of assets. Jeremy McDermott, a former British army officer who is now executive director of the thinktank InSight Crime, said a kilogram of cocaine in the US is worth up to $28,000 wholesale but that rises to $40,000 on average in Europe, and nearly $80,000 in some parts of Europe. “It is more money for less risk. I see a deliberate decision by some of the top-level Colombian traffickers, based on sources who sat in a series of meetings in 2005-6, where the business decisions were made,” McDermott said. “It is a business no-brainer.”

Conservative Ex-Banker Headed to Victory in Presidential Election in Ecuador (NYT) Guillermo Lasso, a 66-year-old conservative former banker, was set to win Ecuador’s presidential election and beat out Andrés Arauz, a 36-year-old leftist handpicked by former President Rafael Correa. With more than 94 percent of the votes counted after 10 p.m., Mr. Lasso had 52 percent compared with Mr. Arauz’s 47.32 percent, according to the Electoral Council official counting system in Ecuador. Mr. Arauz conceded defeat. The vote signaled a desire, at least among some, to shift right following years in which Mr. Correa has held sway over the country.

England reopens with pints pulled, shopping sprees and hair cuts (Reuters) People queued up outside retailers across England on Monday to release their pent-up shopping fever and some grabbed a midnight pint or even an early haircut as England’s shops, pubs, gyms and hairdressers reopened after three months of lockdown. After imposing the most onerous restrictions in Britain’s peacetime history, Prime Minister Boris Johnson said the reopening was a “major step” towards freedom but urged people to behave responsibly as the coronavirus was still a threat. Getting people spending again is crucial for Britain’s recovery after official data showed that 2020 was the worst year for its economy in more than three centuries with a 9.8% decline in gross domestic product.

Tropical Cyclone Seroja flattens Australian town (Washington Post) A tropical cyclone battered Australia’s west coast Sunday night and into Monday, destroying homes and leaving thousands without electricity. Severe wind gusts of up to 105 miles per hour tore houses apart and sent debris flying all over Kalbarri, a coastal tourist town of 1,350 people in Western Australia. Authorities estimated some 70 percent of the town’s buildings were damaged. Drone footage from the scene showed dozens of homes with their roofs ripped off. Power lines were down and roads were littered with shards of metal and other debris. Cyclone Seroja made landfall as a category three storm at about 8 p.m. local time on Sunday between the towns of Kalbarri and Gregory. Cyclones of such intensity rarely travel this far south in Australia, and towns outside the cyclone belt are not usually built to withstand the devastating conditions.

Muslims navigate restrictions in the second pandemic Ramadan (AP) For Ramadan this year, Magdy Hafez has been longing to reclaim a cherished ritual: performing the nighttime group prayers called taraweeh at the mosque once again. Last year, the coronavirus upended the 68-year-old Egyptian’s routine of going to the mosque to perform those prayers, traditional during Islam’s holiest month. The pandemic had disrupted Islamic worship the world over, including in Egypt where mosques were closed to worshippers last Ramadan. Ramadan, which begins this week, comes as much of the world has been hit by an intense new coronavirus wave. For many Muslims navigating restrictions, that means hopes of a better Ramadan than last year have been dashed with the surge in infection rates though regulations vary in different countries. A time for fasting, worship and charity, Ramadan is also when people typically congregate for prayers, gather around festive meals to break their daylong fast, throng cafes and exchange visits. Once again, some countries are imposing new restrictions.

Iran blames Israel for sabotage at Natanz nuclear site (AP) Iran on Monday blamed Israel for a sabotage attack on its underground Natanz nuclear facility that damaged the centrifuges it uses to enrich uranium there, warning that it would take revenge for the assault. The comments by Foreign Ministry spokesman Saeed Khatibzadeh represent the first official accusation leveled against Israel for the incident Sunday that cut power across the facility. Israel has not directly claimed responsibility for the attack. However, suspicion fell immediately on it as Israeli media widely reported that a devastating cyberattack orchestrated by Israel caused the blackout. If Israel was responsible, it would further heighten tensions between the two nations, already engaged in a shadow conflict across the wider Middle East. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, who met Sunday with U.S. Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin, has vowed to do everything in his power to stop the nuclear deal. According to US intelligence officials, it could take more than nine months to resume enrichment in the nuclear facility.

Abductions and Torture Rattle Uganda (NYT) Armed men in white minivans without license plates picked up people off the streets or from their homes. Those snatched were taken to prisons, police stations and military barracks where they say they were hooded, drugged and beaten—some left to stand in cellars filled with water up to their chests. The fear is still so palpable in the capital, Kampala, that many others have gone into hiding or left the country. Three months after Uganda’s president, Yoweri Museveni, won a sixth five-year term in office in the most fiercely contested election in years, his government appears to be intent on breaking the back of the political opposition. His principal challenger, Bobi Wine, a magnetic musician-turned-lawmaker who galvanized youthful crowds of supporters, is now largely confined to his house in Kampala. Mr. Wine’s party said on Friday that 623 members, supporters and elected officials have been seized from the streets and arrested in recent weeks, many of them tortured.

Prince Philip’s mourners in the South Pacific (Foreign Policy) The death of Prince Philip, the husband of Britain’s Queen Elizabeth II, triggered mourning rituals across the country over the weekend. The mourning is not only reserved for the United Kingdom—on one of Vanuatu’s islands, Tanna, hundreds of members of a local tribe have long venerated Prince Philip as akin to a god, and are preparing to mourn his passing. Although it’s unclear how the Prince Philip Movement began, it is believed to have taken root in the 1970s—given life by the royal couple’s visit in 1974. Key to the movement is the belief that Prince Philip is one with the tribe, and fulfilled a prophecy of a tribesman who had found a powerful wife overseas and “would return some day, either in person or in spiritual form,” Kirk Huffman, an anthropologist, told the BBC.

[ghostgothgeek]

Blush. Chapter 3 has been posted!

Disclaimers: actual sex ed talk

FFN || AO3

---

Sam slowly walked over into the next room, saying hello to Mallory, who she already knew from her visits at the clinic, on the way to a seat in the back. Their class wasn’t huge, so it took only a minute or two to gather all the girls in one room. Ms. Tetslaff took note of who was in attendance before pulling out a newspaper and flipping to a crossword puzzle. Apparently, it was awkward for the teachers to be in the same room as the students as well. 

Mallory shut the door and took a seat on a stool in the front of the room. “First things first, this is a safe space. What happens in this room stays in this room. No question is a dumb question. We are going to be open with each other and respect each other.” She smiled and glanced around the room. “I see some familiar faces, but for those who don’t know me, my name is Mallory and I’m a nurse practitioner at Planned Parenthood. Feel free to reach out to me personally for any questions and resources you may need. Again, this is a judgement-free zone. Let’s jump right into it. By a show of hands, how many of you have heard about birth control or are on it already?” 

Sam looked around the room, seeing most hands go up, and raised hers as well. 

“Excellent. Now, birth control can come in many forms, including an IUD, an implant, a shot, and most commonly, pill form. Obviously the name states that it can be used to prevent pregnancy, but it can also be used to help with period symptoms if yours gets too unbearable that you can’t continue on with your normal daily activities. It can help control your acne, and can help regulate your cycle. If you are interested in learning more about this and how it pertains to you, I recommend making an appointment using the website or phone number on the back of my card there. Are there any questions thus far?” 

The girls all shook their heads and remained awkwardly silent. 

“Alright well, with all these hormone changes, you’ll begin to see more physical and emotional effects on your body. You’ll also likely develop more sexual urges and thoughts as well. You may find yourself sexually attracted to the opposite sex, the same sex, both, or none of these. Each sexual orientation is valid, and I would love to cover more of them in this short amount of time, but I was given specifics from your principal due to recent events.”

A couple of girls sunk down in their seats in embarrassment, while some others (Paulina, particularly) smirked and took note of exactly which girls she now had blackmail on. 

“I want to mention that regardless of how you identify, it is still important to use protection during sex of any kind. Even if you are in a situation where you can’t get pregnant, it is important to protect yourself and your partner from STDs as well. I’m sure most if not all of you are sexually active, so let’s talk about that. I’ll grab some things from my bag and we will go over them, but feel free to talk amongst yourselves while I set up.” 

Mallory started pulling things out of her bag while the girls remained fairly quiet at first. A few shifted in their seats or coughed, but Paulina was the first to break the silence, a small smirk forming on her face as she decided to torment her favorite victim.

“Well, we all know Sam gets plenty of extracurricular physical activity with Danny.” Several girls giggled at Paulina’s comment. 

“W-what do you mean?” Sam looked around the room nervously, avoiding everyone’s eyes. There was no way Paulina knew Sam was helping Danny Phantom fight ghosts. Did Paulina somehow make the connection between Fenton and Phantom? 

“You know what I mean. Is he good?” Paulina rested her chin on her hand and waited for Sam to answer.

“Well, yeah. He’s great. I can’t see anyone else doing what he’s doing.” Sam remained skeptical as to why Paulina suddenly decided to grow a brain and uncover Danny’s secret. 

“Really? I would think he’s pretty small…” Paulina loved to see the goth girl squirm. 

“He’s not! He’s been growing a lot lately and gets better every day.” Sam crossed her arms over her chest as she defended her friend. Danny has put on a lot of muscle since the accident!

Paulina raised her eyebrows as a few girls started to whisper. “Interesting. Are you guys adventurous?” 

“We...kinda have to be?” Danny was going to flip once he heard Paulina and now some of the other girls in the classroom knew he’s half ghost.

“That must be exhausting, trying new things all the time. But it’s also gotta be really rewarding as well,” Star chimed in with a wink. 

Valerie let out a small chuckle from next to her. She knew Sam was obviously misinterpreting what Paulina was implying, especially because she knew both girls rather well. Sam would not be that open with her enemy, or anyone for that matter, about her sex life with Danny. Valerie was pretty sure Sam was thinking about ghost fighting. It’s only been a few months since Valerie knew about Danny’s secret identity, which she intended to keep secret because Danny was actually a nice guy. She’s fought alongside them a few times and actually considered them friendly acquaintances, but for all the trouble the goth had given her over the years, particularly when she was interested in Danny too, she decided to let Paulina tease Sam for a bit. 

Paulina, although she had experimented, hadn’t actually done anything, despite what most people thought. But Valerie knew she always grilled everyone for information on sex, both for her own learning and perhaps leverage if she ever needed it. Paulina actually had quite a perverted brain, probably a side effect from all the time she spent with Dash and Kwan. Valerie also knew Paulina would never pass up the opportunity to embarrass Sam Manson. 

Meanwhile, Star would just do whatever Paulina told her to do or whatever she thought Paulina would be most pleased with. Plus, Star actually held all the secrets to Casper High. She was very observant and a keen listener. For some reason, everyone trusted her with their secrets. She was easily the Gretchen Wieners of Amity Park. 

“Ever do it in public?” Valerie bluntly asked, a small smirk on her face. Paulina seemed pleased her former friend was joining in on bombarding the goth girl. 

“Uh, I mean usually it’s in a public place, I guess. We can’t really control that, though.” Sam pressed her lips together and hoped all the attention she was getting would be ending very, very soon. She’d have to do damage control, that’s for sure. She’d have to make every girl in the room swear they’d never tell Danny’s secret, or she’d have to kill them. Most people were already afraid of her anyways, adding death threats she would never actually carry out wouldn’t be a huge surprise. 

Paulina’s jaw dropped slightly. “Wow. I have to give you losers more credit. I never thought you’d have the guts to actually do anything.” 

Sam scoffed at her. “We’re perfectly capable of handling ourselves.” 

“Clearly,” Star started, “I’m so telling Uncle Jeremy about this.” She whispered the second part to Sam. Only Paulina knew that Star and Sam were actually cousins. She’d keep that secret until her death bed for the sake of her best friend’s reputation. 

“You tell my dad, I tell everyone we’re cousins.” Sam narrowed her eyes at the girl.

“One is the truth and one is a lie. Which one is more believable?” Star crossed her arms defiantly. She sure lived up to the reputation she built herself. “You’re with Danny all the time.”

“Then I’ll tell everyone who your secret crush is. Both of them.” Sam smirked at her cousin’s shocked face. Most people knew Star liked Kwan, but she wasn’t fully out as bi just yet. 

“How di-”

“Like that’s a giant leap? Please, it’s obvious.” Her eyes quickly flashed to the Latina girl next to Star, then back to the blonde. “You can’t tell anyone about Danny.” Sam warned sternly. 

“Ooh, so this is secret information?” Paulina smiled, suddenly interested in the conversation again. She loved secrets. 

“Of course it’s secret information! Why would he ever want this getting out? His parents would kill him!” 

“Well, for one he’d be quite a hero,” Paulina pointed out.

“He already is a hero.” 

“If you say so, freak. So, is it actually romantic? Does it hurt?” Paulina took mental notes. 

“I mean, sometimes we get hurt, but it’s nothing we can’t deal with. Especially when Tucker is there to help too. As for romantic, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Sam was beginning to think Paulina was batshit crazy.

“Oh, so it’s a friends with benefits kinda deal then?” Ashley, a girl from their class suddenly piped in. Sam had never spoken to the girl in her life, and now she and almost half of their class found Sam quite interesting. If only they invested their time into actual causes that matter rather than gossip...

“Must be,” Star said. “No wonder your parents don’t like Danny.” She giggled. 

“Friends with what?” Sam looked at the girls confused for a brief moment before she remembered what they were learning about today: sexual education. The girls were talking about sex the whole time. In particular, sex with Danny. 

Sam’s eyes widened as her face heated up, turning a bright crimson. “N-no, uh, it’s not...I mean we never, we aren’t doing...he’s my f-friend…” She couldn’t stop stammering; she had never been more mortified in her entire life. 

“Uh huh, sounds really convincing.” Paulina smirked. 

“Yeah, freaky girl likes to get freaky, no big deal.” Star shrugged nonchalantly. 

Sam wished she had Danny’s power of invisibility right now. Stop thinking about Danny in sex ed. “We….we aren’t a couple, we’re not dating, we are not together.” She felt like she was sitting under a microscope. She looked up at Mallory, who was still writing things on the board and paying absolutely no attention to the girls gossiping in the back. 

“You can keep telling yourself that, but there’s always been something more between you guys. Trust me, we’ve all seen it,” Valerie said as all the girls nodded.

Why was everyone suddenly so interested in Sam and her sex life? Or rather, lack thereof. Sam preferred being ignored over this. “N-no, we aren’t….having...sex…” It was so hard just for her to get the words out. 

“But you’d like to. Someday. I mean, we all know you like him...like, like him like him.” Valerie raised an eyebrow at the goth. “Maybe even then some.” Valerie and Sam had some silent understanding, though they never actually had the conversation, that Valerie backed off of Danny for more than just ghost fighting reasons. “It’s normal to want to sleep with the guy you like.”

“I don’t-” Sam stopped as Valerie held her hand up for her to stop talking.

“Don’t try to deny it. I saw you guys making out in the bushes freshman year.” Valerie’s comment earned a lot of chatter amongst the girls. Lots of “I knew it”s and “no wonder”s and “I told you so”s filled the room. 

“Give us details!” Mia, another girl Sam had never spoken to, screeched, all girls drawing their undivided attention towards Sam. 

“Oh my God.” Sam face palmed and dragged her hand down her face. “Kill me. Kill me now.” 

“Alright, ladies!” Mallory clapped her hands to get their attention. Sam silently thanked all of the possible higher powers for the save. “I already mentioned birth control. However, the best way to prevent getting an STD is to use condoms.” She held one up high in the air. “They look like this, and come in various sizes. Please do not feel embarrassed to buy them for your partner, and remember to check for the expiration date and any signs of damage.” She unwrapped it and stretched it gently for a demonstration. “It’s always better to be over prepared and to protect both yourself and your partner. Now, we are going to practice putting one on.” 

Mallory picked up the crate from the floor and set it on a chair, pulling out a bunch of bananas and snapping one off. “So, if this is the penis, you start by rolling the condom on like so. I’m going to pass out some supplies and you are all going to do what I just demonstrated. Please pass back a banana and a few condoms to your fellow classmates.” She gave everyone in the front row a bunch of bananas followed by a large handful of condoms. 

With Mallory temporarily distracted, Paulina decided to keep pressing for information. “So he gave you earrings, picked you to win the pageant, you spend more time at his house than your own, and you’ve been caught rolling around in the bushes at least once. You’re really trying to tell us there’s nothing going on between you and Danny Fenton?” 

Sam groaned. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. I’m not dating anyone, especially not Danny.” She grabbed her supplies from the girl in front of her. 

“Well you got pretty cozy pretty fast with Elliot not too long ago.” 

Sam narrowed her eyes at Ashley. “Wow, and people say you never pay attention in school.” She finished off her sarcastic remark with a signature eye roll.

“That’s right! You were all lovey dovey goth freaks until Danny broke you up!” Star perked up at her sudden recall of information. 

“That’s not at all what happened. Now, can we please stop talking about me and Danny and how we aren’t dating?” 

“You can still sleep with him without dating him. That’s what friends with benefits means,” Paulina pointed out.

Sam pinched the bridge of her nose, growing to a surprisingly new level of annoyance she never thought was possible. “Danny and I are just friends. Best friends. That’s it. We aren’t dating, and we definitely aren’t having sex. Zero. Zip. Nada. Zilch. None.” She sighed in relief as there was no immediate response. Perhaps this time she was stern enough and they would leave her alone.

Then, after a moment…

“Even if she says they’re not sleeping together doesn’t mean they aren’t doing stuff.” Sam wanted to scream. “They’re always sneaking around and trying to get away from other people. Plus she has DSL.” Paulina examined her manicure. 

“DSL?” Some girl, Hannah may have been her name, asked. 

“Dick sucking lips. That purple lipstick must go places.” 

“Alright, that’s enough. Let the girl breathe.” Valerie stepped in. It had gone too far. She looked over at Sam and mouthed an apology. Sam forced a small smile and mouthed a thank you. Valerie meant well, really. And she was generally pretty cool. At a certain time, the topic of Danny made things harder between the girls, though they had mainly moved past that at this point. The girls were fairly friendly now that Valerie wasn’t wanting to kill Danny Phantom anymore. 

Paulina smirked and opened her mouth to torment her victim more, but the instructor had finally spoken up again. 

“Alright, each of you should have been supplied a banana? Good, now you’re all going to take the condom, unwrap it, and roll it onto the banana.” Mallory gave another demonstration, covering the fruit in a colorful green rubber this time.

Sam wasn’t paying attention. She couldn’t pay attention. She didn’t give a fuck what people thought. But this also involved Danny. She could feel a light blush hit her cheeks just thinking about him. She couldn’t drag Danny into this. Plus, why would he even want a rumor going around that they were sleeping together? He didn’t like her that way. He definitely didn’t think she was attractive enough for...that. He pined after other girls all the time. And they’re only 18! Well, she and Tucker were 18. Danny still had a few weeks before his 18th birthday at the beginning of April. But either way, that’s way too young to be hav-

“Sam, I know you already know this stuff, but please set an example for the other girls.” 

Sam looked up at Mallory like a deer in headlights. She just noticed she had peeled her banana and started eating it in the middle of her whirling thoughts. She stopped chewing and looked down at her banana, which was a quarter of the way gone already, then at all the girls who were trying to roll the colorful rubbers onto their own bananas.

Sam mentally slapped herself. She was totally calm earlier this morning. Like she had told Tucker, it’s just the human body, it’s natural. But ever since Paulina had made that first implication of Sam sleeping with Danny, she was frazzled. She couldn’t stop imagining what it would actually be like if they were to ever date...

Mallory sat another banana on Sam’s desk and gave her a soft smile. Sam grimaced after Mallory turned and walked back to the front of the room and stared down at it. Ugh. Why does it have to be a banana? She would never be able to eat one now without thinking about dicks. They’re probably not shaped and sized like this anyways. Sam couldn’t imagine any guy in school having a dick the size of a banana in their pants. Surely that would be noticeable? 

She glanced down at the banana again as she slouched in her seat and rolled the condom onto it. 

How would something as big as a banana fit up there anyways?! She knew from her research (fanfiction and romance novels) that girls preferred guys to be bigger...down there. Plus, guys seemed to compare or mention sizes all the time. 

Sam looked at her banana with the purple condom rolled onto it. Was Danny that big? 

WOAH. Nope. Abort mission! Don’t go there, Manson. 

She felt her face heating up again. She hoped Danny and Tucker were having an easier time than she was. Stop thinking about Danny in sex ed! 

Valerie glanced over at the goth again, noticing her red face. “Hey, I’m sorry if I egged them on too much about the making out in a bush comment,” she whispered. 

Sam shot her a small smile. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault. It’s only happened a small handful of times.” 

Valerie raised her eyebrow and moved closer to Sam. “Spill,” she pursed her lips, “if you want to, that is.” 

Sam took a deep breath and smiled at Valerie’s level of respect. She was definitely getting closer to Valerie more recently, and it was a nice break from all the testosterone every once in a while. She could even start seeing Valerie as a best friend, one she could talk to about boys and period problems. But that required effort. 

“Okay umm…” She saw Valerie’s eyes light up when she realized Sam was actually going to talk to her. It was actually kind of a nice feeling to finally talk to someone about this. Plus, she could trust Valerie. If Valerie could be trusted with Danny’s secret, Sam felt she could trust her with just about anything (except her family’s wealth; she didn’t need to reopen old wounds for her new friend). Sam gave a genuine smile, feeling a little excited to be able to finally gush about this. “Well, you mentioned the first time it happened. In the bushes. But it doesn’t totally count because it was a fakeout makeout and we were trying to distract you from discovering Danny’s secret,” she said quietly. 

Valerie nodded eagerly and motioned for Sam to continue. 

“There’s been a couple of fakeout makeouts since then. So it’s really not a big deal, but it is really nice kissing him. I don’t know how he feels though.”

Valerie chuckled, “Girl, I saw his face after you kissed him. He definitely liked it. Oh and, uh, sorry for calling you guys losers. You’re actually some of the most genuine people I’ve ever met.” 

“We’re past that, Val. All is forgiven.” Sam opened another condom and rolled it around in her hands, giving them something to do. She wants to be friends with Valerie, but she was still nervous. Gushing about boys certainly wasn’t very goth of her, but she really appreciated the bond she saw many women having with each other. So she wanted that too. Sue her. 

“So have there been any times where he’s kissed you for real?” Valerie set her three colorfully wrapped bananas on her desk, giving Sam her full attention. 

“Um. I’m not really sure. Kinda once. And uh...he may be banned from my house right now because my mom caught us lightly making out…” Sam twirled her hair around her finger as Valerie let out a laugh. 

“No way! Really?!” 

Sam laughed also, “Yeah, it was pretty embarrassing. I don’t know what would have happened if my mom hadn’t walked in, if we would have gotten together or not, but yeah. If I ever bring up Danny in a conversation, my parents get all frazzled and my dad leaves the room. It’s actually been really fun to mess with them.” Sam grinned. 

“Wait, your mom walked in on you and Danny having sex?!” Paulina said a little too loudly, earning a few heads turning in their direction. Paulina reached into her backpack and dug around for a bit. What the heck was she doing anyway?

“No!! That’s not at all what happened!” 

Valerie chuckled again, “well, you know I-” Her watch suddenly beeped. “Ghost,” she mouthed to Sam, who nodded and looked around as well. She spotted Kitty ducking her head back in through the wall. 

Before Valerie could jump into action, Sam grabbed her arm. “Don’t worry, I got it. And thanks.” 

Quickly rising from her seat and ignoring all the eyes on her, she mentioned to the instructor she needed to use the restroom and walked out of the classroom before anyone could stop her, sneaking a thermos out with her. Once the classroom door was closed and she was in the hallway, she started walking around.

“Kitty?” Sam whispered, jumping a bit when said ghost suddenly popped up in front of her. “What are you doing here?” Sam hissed. 

Kitty shrugged. “Johnny and I were riding by and saw the guys and girls all split up and got curious. By the way, if you ever need some alone time with Danny, just let us know. We can try to keep other ghosts away for twenty minutes or so.” She winked at Sam.

“What?! How did you hear about that?!” 

“Good gossip travels fast in the Ghost Zone.” Kitty shrugged nonchalantly. 

“The entire Ghost Zone has heard about this?! But it’s not even true!! You have to tell them it isn’t true!” What the fuck, all the ghosts knew about today now?! Did Paulina secretly have a ghost counterpart in the Ghost Zone? Was Sam in the Twilight Zone? What the fuck was happening today?!

“Nah, it’s fine. They definitely don’t want to sneak in on anything.” Sam raised an eyebrow at the comment. “Also holler if you need tips or anything. I know my Johnny sure likes it when I top sometimes. The trick is to move your hips like-”

“La la la I don’t want to hear this!” Sam covered her ears and looked back at the ghost. “Do I need to stuff you in the thermos or not?” She popped her hip and held up the thermos. 

“Don’t be so dramatic! I just want to help. Johnny and I love helping couples! He went to find your boyfriend a few minutes ago, actually. Trust me, Johnny knows what he’s doing. He’ll teach Danny how to do it right.” 

Sam choked on her spit at that comment. “What?! Oh god, this day needs to be over already. What the fuck is happening?” She let out a long groan. 

“Okay, I don’t need a preview or anything. Just let me know if you need tips. By the way, you definitely should listen to that lady. Always use protection. I never really know when Johnny’s feeling extra...glowy that day.” Kitty zoomed off before Sam could change her mind about putting her in the thermos. 

Glowy? What the-?

Oh. Oh god. Ghosts...must glow when they...did that mean that when Danny would…that he...does he think of her ever when he...?

Sam’s face burned scarlett again. STOP THINKING ABOUT DANNY LIKE THAT!

She leaned against the wall, sliding down to the floor. Letting out a sigh, she blew her bangs out of her face. The girls’ comments kept swirling through her head. And now the ghosts are all in on it too?! She wasn’t sleeping with Danny! “But you’d like to. Someday.” She growled at Valerie’s words. It wasn’t like she hadn’t thought about it before, she just always squashed those thoughts immediately. They were still in high school for fucksake! And they weren’t even together! 

For a split second, Sam let her mind wander; the thought of getting that intimate with anyone was terrifying, but she always felt safe and secure with Danny. She was closer to him than anyone else in her life anyways, just not, you know….physically. Only a little bit.

Oh God, stop going there. She felt her face heating up again, so she climbed up from her spot on the floor and went into the bathroom to splash some cold water on her face and calm down. 

This whole thing was stupid, anyways. Sure, she liked Danny. A lot. But that didn’t mean anything would happen between them. Just because they kissed a few times didn’t mean that Danny liked her. As far as she knew, he still liked Paulina and probably still Valerie to an extent. She frowned. She would never understand what guys saw in Paulina. 

She dried her face off with a paper towel and stared at herself in the mirror. Danny would never see her in any way other than a friend or a sister. And high schoolers are just dumb. Hormones ran wild, as expected with teenagers, and everyone always talked about doing things, but aside from the whole debacle that got the school to have a sex education day in the first place, she highly doubted anyone was doing anything beyond second base. Everyone was just so immature. Guys and girls can be best friends and have sleepovers and find each other attractive without it being weird. But what if she and Danny did have something more than friendship?

She facepalmed. Nothing would ever happen. If anything were to happen, Danny would have made a move by now. Don’t get your hopes up. People were just stupid and trying to tease her. She knew she had to just not give a shit about what other people say or think like she always did. Once she convinced herself that she was calm and everything was normal (ghosts aside), she rounded the corner and left the bathroom feeling more confident. Until she ran into someone. 

Sam was so flustered from previous events and was walking with so much momentum, she didn’t notice Danny walking out of the boys’ bathroom at the same time she was leaving the girls’. And because he was taller (and clumsier) than she was, he knocked them both to the ground.