#> master's final words... ⟡ (important/psa)

[citrinitxs]

What a view... How about a quick break so I can sketch this beautiful scenery?

DISCLAIMER: This blog is a roleplay and interaction blog (SFW). The admin DOES NOT roleplay NSFW threads unless with close friends.

Greetings. My name is Albedo. It must be your first time coming to the camp, hm? If you are lost, you may peruse through these books. If you have any questions, you may reach out to me for inquiries. Thank you for coming. -> (NEW) CARRD.CO -> Favonius Handbook -> Process of Alchemy -> Creator of Kreideprinz -> Albedo's Sketchbook -> PSA from Alice

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Part 4 of First Times with Larissa please :)

Hey there @tahliama !! Of course, how could I refuse 😉

First Times Ch 4: We Interrupt this Program… ~Larissa Weems xFem Student!Sorceress!Reader

Here’s First Times Part 4! This chapter highlights how checking in with your partner is important, also talking about labels 💞 Smut to come in future chapters, but this one is mainly angst and fluff! PSA: it’s ok to have anxiety about things related to sex, especially if you’re a virgin. Not professional advice: but it’s always good to talk to someone, like your partner or a close person you trust ♥️

Link to Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch5

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!, masturbation, anxiety, implied anxiety attacks, overwhelmed!reader, angst, little fluff, implied mommy kink, mistress kink, pet names, implied future smut, etc.

Enjoy (;

After your soothing bath with Larissa, you returned to your room. Your mind was still spinning at your situation. It was surreal.

Who would have thought that you would be with Larissa Weems…??

Everything was everywhere all at once… To be clear, you weren’t against a relationship with Larissa, after all you were of age. But she was a stunning goddes… and you were an inexperienced teenager… it was all fucking crazy.

And then there was the fact of your apparent mommy kink…?!?

~~~

“Baby, be a good girl and take off mommy’s knickers for her…” Larissa moaned out in need, stopping you in the middle of you teasing her thighs.

Your breath hitched. Larissa’s eyes widened at her slip of the tongue.

“Yes… mommy…” you whispered, hooking your knickers with your teeth and taking them off.

~~~

You knew that Larissa hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but it just felt so natural…

You winced to yourself at the embarrassing idea of Larissa discussing that at your next rendezvous.

But the same puzzling thought ruminates in your mind the rest of the day…

Why would Larissa pick you…?

~~~

The entire week, your mind was working in overdrive around Larissa and your relationship. It was all you could think about.

Passing glances in the hallway with the blonde principal seemed like way more than they used to…

Little comments sent your mind further down the gutter…

Light touches sent your body into aching heat…

An aching heat which you would rush back to your dorm to relieve with your own shaky hands. You’d slam your dorm room door shut, not bothering to lock it, simply collapsing against it and snaking your hand past your knickers and into your soaked cunt.

God, that woman had such an effect on you…

You’d slam your head against the door in pleasure as you came around your fingers at the thought of the tall blonde. You’d then take a few moments to catch your breath, and then it was back to your daily schedule of classes.

Your week ended with an especially challenging Friday, leaving you worn out and even more anxious over the upcoming rendezvous tomorrow with the one and only Larissa Weems. You couldn’t wait any longer. Not even one night.

And that’s how you found yourself, knocking on Larissa’s office doors at 9:43pm on that Friday…

You entered her office with her word and took a deep breath. Larissa looked up from her work and her face lit up.

“Oh Darling…! What a pleasant surprise!” Her silky voice exclaimed.

You closed the door, while she indicated for you to sit. You did so. It didn’t take long for Larissa to notice your off demeanor and for her face to change quite quickly.

“What’s the matter, love?” She gently asked.

Your head rushed with anxious ramblings and your face went bright red.

“I… What are we…?” You spoke in a whisper.

Larissa pursed her lips.

“What do you want us to be…?”

You finally looked up to meet her gaze. Her eyes glistened with vulnerability.

“I— I don’t know…”

“Is this about the ‘mommy’ thing, Darling…? Because I sincerely apologized if that made you uncomfortable…” Larissa gently asked you.

“Yes—No… not really. It didn’t feel wrong, but it also didn’t feel right. It just got me thinking… And I can’t stop. I need to know what we are…”

“I understand that. Labels can provide safety and understanding in any relationship.”

You nodded, looking back at the ground.

“What would you like to be…?” She repeated.

You looked up once more, your feelings caught in yo ur throat.

“Yours…” you whispered.

Larissa gulped.

“Perhaps you’d be interested in a mistress/servant relationship…?” She gently offered, deflecting your vulnerable admittance.

“What is that…?”

“I’d be your mistress and you’d do what I tell you. It’s a type of power dynamic. Would that be the label your comfortable with?” She explained and asked.

Your eyes lit up with some hope at her words. You bit your lip and nodded.

“Yes… that sounds good, thank you.” You whimpered.

“Thank you, mistress…” Larissa lightly teased, making you giggle lightly.

Larissa then got up from her chair and came over to you, cupping your face and pressing a light kiss to your lips.

“Would you prefer to skip tomorrow, Darling…?” She asked, searching your eyes for any hesitancy.

You sighed, feeling like you were able for the first time this whole week.

“No, mistress. But maybe we can do something a little less intense…?”

“Of course, Sweet girl…” Larissa purred, “Now go get some sleep, you look exhausted, Darling…”

One final peck on your lips and you were off to bed for the night. And that night, you slept better than you had in weeks.

~~~

Ch 5 with new experiences… linked here 🤭

Larissa Weems Masterlist

Tag list: @snakeskins-world @friskyfisher @just-your-casual-nerd @scream-queenlover @bobia13 @justcallmelittleone @dopenightmaretyphoon @killer-quill @im-a-carnivorous-plant @larissaoftarthweems @what-a-violet-world @a-queen-and-her-throne @liliweems @ant0weems @principal-weems09 @larissaweemsgf @shyladyfan @leonorasbabygirl @simpsforwomen @psychopathicnightmare17 @walkethisway @wifeymaterialsstuff @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @kimiinou @enchantressb @sicklygrlsicklygrl @larissa-weems-chokehold @teenybean @lucky1fancy4wolf @sapphicsbeloved @dingdongthetail @lovelyy-moonlight @thesamesweetie @wheresmyboo @dvrkhcld @tahliama

[apacbusinesstimes]

Nicolas Travis: The Pioneer of Skincare through Allies of Skin

The world is full of beauty-conscious people, and skincare has become an important thing in the lives of people. A skincare routine is a way to nourish and enhance your skin’s appearance through using certain ingredients. Skincare is not only about the face it is the way to take care of your entire body, though the face is a highlighting part. 

The skincare products market in Singapore in the year 2021 is estimated at around USD 136.5 billion which accounts for a compound annual growth rate (CAGR) of about  4.58% from 2023 to 2013. The market value by 2030 of skincare is valued to be at USD 195.31 billion. Hence through the numbers shown, one can see the good market value for skincare products worldwide. In this article, we are going to discuss one such skincare brand called Allies of Skin which was started by a Singaporean entrepreneur, Nicolas Travis. 

The story behind Allies of Skin

The purpose of starting ‘Allies of Skin’ has a personal story that is connected with Nicolas Travis’s life. At the age of 19 years, Nicolas broke multiple parts of his body by falling in the bathroom, which also resulted in damage to his face for which he had to have surgery. With the lack of money, he thought to get it fixed in Bangkok, where he went to the best hospital to get treated by the best surgeon who has done complicated surgeries. Unfortunately, surgery was not successful instead it caused more infection, dents, and necrosis on his face. 

Nicolas however wanted to fix them as it made him ugly and bad-looking, so he was treated five times in 2 years, which were of no use and made him feel to kill himself. Later he attended regular therapy to treat depression and finally with the motivational words of his doctor he came up with a solution to help other people who are facing the same condition as him. Instead of hating himself, he decided to make others feel good about themselves. That is when Allies of Skin took birth.

Brief about Nicolas Travis

Nicolas Travis is the founder and CEO of Allies of Skin which was founded in the year 2016. Nicolas holds a degree in biomedical and pharmaceutical science and has completed a master’s in the stream of international business from Grenoble Ecole de Management. After his graduation, he worked at Ogilvy & Mather as a social media campaign writer.

Nicolas started the business with three skin care products by taking a loan from his brother and sister. He initially launched his first hero product called the 1A All-Day Mask for which is conducted clinical trials for 2 years. The formulation of this product helps enhance your skin healing, relieves stress, and also repairs damage caused by pollution.

The challenges faced were to convince people to buy their products and make them understand their effectiveness. Another key to success in business was to tackle and stand out from other competitive beauty brands in the market. It was his passion for beauty and also the struggles he faced in the early stage that made him push himself to help other young men who are struggling with acne though men do not care much about their skincare routine.

The customers of Allies of Skin were also passionate and loved makeup and were looking for products that make their makeup look even better and defined. With this idea, Nicolas started his second startup called PSA (Purposeful Skincare by Allies), which helps you to wear any makeup you wish and not worry about your skin. It is approved by Renude and PSa is an affordable brand with more effectiveness for your skin.

Conclusion

Allies of Skin’s vision is to make beauty more human and to elevate skin confidence through their skincare product formulations. They help you feel good and give joy. it is also honored with multiple awards and now it has grown big and includes all ranges of skincare products. Nicolas Travis was listed under Forbes 30 under 30in the year 2017. He is inspiring others with his entrepreneurial and life journey as how he could boldly overcome his disabilities to a business idea and make it a success story.

Visit More : https://apacbusinesstimes.com/nicolas-travis-the-pioneer-of-skincare-through-allies-of-skin/

[gentil-minou]

Bushy (she/her)

You can also follow me on AO3, Instagram, or Twitter

I'm a child/adolescent therapist with a love for Miraculous Ladybug! This blog is multifandom, and I love talking about all my favorites so feel free to talk about anything is you see I'm into it!

If you want to translate or share my posts with others, please ask me first! I probably won't say no I just want to be informed. Sharing links is fine!

Always happy to take any and all questions, but please read this PSA first!

Tags of Interest:

ml psychology - posts by me and others related to mental health

ml meta - meta-analysis about the show by me and others

ml theory - guesses and theories about where the show is going

bushy overthinks things - posts by me specifically (tagging in progress)

bushy writing - I write fanfiction too!

asked and answered - my tag for answering questions

bushy rambles - the rest of my nonsense and mess, includes life stuff and when I rewatch episodes.

ml memes - sometimes I make dumb memes

ml headcanons - because this show makes me 🥺🥺🥺

Episodes are tagged as "ml [episode name]"

Other miscellaneous tags: posts for a rainy day, general mental health things, things i think are important, etc.

Links to specific analyses and posts below the cut!

New!!!!

Analyzing Adrien and Marinette (3/10/22)

Ladybug's hero is Chat Noir (Origins/Strike Back Parallel) (3/10/22)

Felix's Motivation (3/11/22)

Penalteam was setting up Mari losing the miraculouses (3/11/22)

COMMUNICATION (3/11/22)

Theory: Adrien and Marinette's dynamic in S5 (3/12/22)

How might Adrien act if Mari told him about Chat Blanc (3/11/22)

Mental Health Representation in ML

Psychology Analysis

Marinette and Generalized Anxiety Disorder

Adrien’s Depression

Marinette’s PTSD Symptoms

Panic Attacks within ML

Marinette’s ADHD by @rena-rain (with some commentary from me on the challenges of tracing symptomology in comorbidities)

Adrien’s Character and Emotional Abuse (with commentary by @heartfulselkie and @clover11-10)

Marinette and Emotional Intelligence by @ladyofthenoodle and I

Adrien’s Grief, and how it differs from Gabriel

ML Characters with OCD with help from @galahadwilder

Could Mari have Bipolar? (My opinion: No)

Miraculous Ladybug as a metaphor for CBT (coming soon)

Akuma and Emotion Dysregulation (coming soon)

How Plagg and Tikki are perfect for their respective holders. 

Sentiadrien Theory and Mental Health

Gabriel Agreste’s Emotional Neglect/Abuse of Adrien (2/1/22)

READ THIS FIRST

Sentiadrien Theory as a Narrative for Trauma Healing

The “Does being a sentimonster invalidate Adrien’s experiences?” ask

Why we need to stop using the word “sentimonster" 

Why being a senti doesn't excuse Garbage's abuse of Adrien

The “Are sentiadrien’s reaction a response to trauma or being a sentibeing” ask (AKA the metaphor for abuse vs trauma)

The “Sentiadrien Theory as a metaphor geared towards kids” ask.

SentiAdrien vs SentiFelix

Theory: How Adrien will get his freedom (2/10/22)

Why being a senti doesn't excuse Garbage's abuse of Adrien (2/11/22)

Sentiadrien as representation (2/21/22)

The thing about Sentibeings versus Sentimonsters

My tag for all posts related to the theory: #sentiadrien

Individual Episode/Character Analyses

Chloe and Her Parents

Master Fu's Trauma

Adrien Agreste's Soft Looks (TM) at Marinette Dupain Cheng

Season 5

Theory: Adrien and Marinette's dynamic in S5 (3/12/22)

How might Adrien act if Mari told him about Chat Blanc (3/11/22)

Strike Back

Analyzing Adrien and Marinette (3/10/22)

Ladybug's hero is Chat Noir (Origins/Strike Back Parallel) (3/10/22)

S3 vs S4 Finales and Ladynoir

Felix's Motivation (3/11/22)

Penalteam was setting up Mari losing the miraculouses (3/11/22)

COMMUNICATION (3/11/22)

Risk

Felix is Gabriel's foil (2/22/22)

Theory: Love Square Expansion in the Finale

Fight, Flight, or Freeze

Season 4 was about Adrien falling in love with Marinette

Characters taking Risks

Psycomedian

Kuro Neko

The lessons Marinette and Adrien learn

Is the ladynoir conflict is over?

What does conflict mean?

Learning about Adrien's depression: 1 and 2

Plagg's Cheese Metaphors in Kuro Neko and Therapy (2/26/22)

Ephemeral

Post-reveal Adrien discovering his "true self"

JUSTICE FOR PUPPETEER 2

WHY PUPPETEER 2 IS SO GOOD FOR ADRINETTE DEVELOPMENT

THE STATUE SCENE IS PERFECT

Note: because of Tumblr's limit on how many links can be in one post, you can go to this page on desktop for a more complete list

And remember kids:

(Credits to @ladyofthenoodle for the sticker)

[kamyru]

“Just like her mother...“ (Kaga x MC)

Soooo... I know that MC isn’t dumb, taking into consideration her character development and that she finished as the best PSA student. Though, sometimes I think what will be Kaga’s reaction if he finds out that she’s very academically intelligent. She reads a lot of books, knows many languages, finished a very good university, things like this. But take into consideration that being academically intelligent doesn’t require to be intelligent in day to day life, so she still can be pretty naive, just like she is portrayed.

(I swear I’ll do the requests I still have in my inbox. And if anyone is interested, my requests are always open so you can send me asks, if you’re ready to wait a little.)

Word counting: 1665

After a very long day at work, Kaga finally made it home. It was way past midnight and he was sure that everyone was already asleep. Though, when he opened the door, he saw light coming from the living room. He let out a sigh and prepared a long speech about why everyone has to be asleep if he comes home so late. However, when he stepped inside the room before his eyes appeared an astonishing view.

His wife was peacefully sleeping on the armchair, with their daughter fast asleep on her. An open book was set beside them. Kaga looked at them and a big smile forming on his face. It was obvious that his daughter looked just like him. Everyone who ever saw her thought that it’s their obligation to say this. Though, only he knew how alike was she with her mother.

The day she was born, Ayumu said: “I bet she’ll be as smart as you.” For him, it was obvious that being Kaga’s child is impossible not to be intelligent.

“She is way smarter than I was,” he said for himself, while he took her in his arms, to carry her to her bed. “Just like her mother.”

When he gave her a goodnight kiss and put her favorite toy near her, a voice broke the silence.

“How was your day? I’ll make your tea and fill the bath. You can relax,” said MC, while rubbing her sleepy eyes.

“Go to bed. I don’t want to sleep on the floor, only because you fell asleep right here.”

Kaga gave MC a quick peck on the lips and entered the bathroom. It is a blessing to come home after an endless-like day, see your beautiful and lovely wife holding your daughter and knowing that here you’ll always find love and peace.

While relaxing every tense muscle in the bathtub, he thought about the case he had to solve these days. The culprit was just making fun of them, leaving them everywhere shreds of evidence. Though, it took them too long to understand it. He could bet that if MC had been on that case, she would have helped a lot. Also, she would have been the perfect person to interrogate the culprit.

He understood that she is very intelligent when he saw how hard-working she was, how many questions she put, how she gave every drop of her energy in learning the lessons. Yet, he saw the extent of this only after they were dating for a while.

The moment Kaga entered her room for the first time, he was taken aback by the quantity of the book in there. He didn’t know at what to look, so MC lost him for quite a long time, letting him examine every book on the shelves. Besides Japanese authors like Mori Ogai, Haruki Murakami, Kobo Abe, Yasunari Kawabata, were Kant, Nietzsche, Hesse, Mann and Goethe in German, Dickens, London, Vonnegut, Joyce and Steinbeck in English and many other writers in different languages. He had no idea that such a small room could be filled with so many books. The one that caught his attention was a small and old one, which title he couldn’t read, but he knew it was in French. 

MC saw him taking the book in his hand and examining it. A warm smile appeared on her face.

“It’s my favorite book. I learned French because of it. Here are two novels written by Antoine de Saint-Exupery.”

“What they are about? I only know his ‘Little Prince’ because mom read it to me when I was little.”

“The first one - ‘Night Flight’ is about sacrifice, from different points of view. The second one - ‘Flight to Arras’ is about Humans and Humanity. I read them separately when I was a teenager and liked them so much that decided to learn French to read them in original. And, as you can see, I did it and bought them when I was studying in France.”

She looked at them like one looks at one’s old friends. Kaga opened it and although he couldn’t understand a word from there, he saw a lot of pencil marks on each page. He made a mental note to find these novels in any language known by him and read them. They were something important for his girlfriend, so he simply had to know about what they are.

“You said that you studied in France?” he suddenly asked.

“I studied there for a year while I did my bachelor’s and then chose to do my master’s there.”

Kaga lifted his eyes and looked attentively at her. “What university have you finished here?”

“Kyoto University. Why?”

She was responding so genuine and simply, that for a moment he thought that she was just a very good actress. It was very rare to see people who finished good universities that aren’t emanating pride and don’t expect to see the other person taken completely aback by their smartness. But she was so simple about this, that he was more than confused. He wanted to give her more questions, to know how many languages she knew, what specialty she had, how she managed to have a master’s degree, a work experience in police and still be so young.

The next time he was surprised by her knowledge was when she took the responsibility to take care of a teenager who was waiting to find out news about his parents. The boy didn’t want to move an inch before detectives were going to say something about his lost parents. He didn’t even care about the department he was disturbing.

MC sat near him and gave him warm tea and sandwiches. At first, she didn’t say a thing, just waited till he finished eating. When he looked at her questioningly, she simply told him: “It’s a theory that trying to focus your thoughts on something that needs a lot of thinking helps you to stop crying.”

The boy wanted to say that he wasn’t crying but understood that his face was too puffy to make her believe him. He simply continued watching her.

“Are you coming directly from school?” she asked, looking at his bag and uniform.

He nodded. A soft smile appeared on her face.

“Let’s finish your homework, then.”

This time, the boy looked at her like she was the Mad Hatter in person.

“I don’t think I can concentrate on something like this right now.”

“I will help. What form are you?”

In no time, she convinced him to take into consideration her offer. Every person in the office gave them a skeptical stare. The thing was that MC didn’t only make him unbend a little, but explained every exercise he had questions on. Math, science, English or Japanese? She made it look so easy, that all the workers in the office refreshed and completed their knowledge from high school while accidentally listening to her.

When a dealer was caught and no one could understand what language he was speaking, Kaga instantly thought about MC. He still didn’t know how many languages she knew, but he hoped that, with a little bit of luck, she could be of some help.

She entered the interrogation room. She asked him some fast questions in Japanese. When the dealer started to speak in the unknown language, a smirk appeared on MC’s face. She said an only phrase that made him completely change his expression. The verdict was simple: “He knows Japanese. He is only bluffing.”

“How you found this out? What did you say to him?” asked the detectives.

“That he is making a pure job faking a Vietnamese accent.”

Kaga knew that MC was constantly learning something. That she was yearly reading more books than most people read in their entire life. That she was solving problems at math, physics and chemistry only for fun. He knew that her brain was keeping inside more information than anyone can imagine.

Still, every time someone finds out that his daughter can read at three years, already understands French and Mandarin besides Japanese and he can’t even remember at what age she learned how to count, they are praising him for giving her good genes. Because everyone knew that he graduated from a prestigious university, that he had fantastically good grades, that his logic is impeccable. But only a few knew what MC was hiding inside her head. He was the lucky one to see that every day. To be each time amazed by her thinking.

So, every time someone was giving him too much credit for his daughter’s education, he had to return them to reality and tell the truth. To give his wife the praising she deserves.

Kaga finally finished his bath. While trying to dry his hair with the towel, he entered the bedroom to look at his lovely wife, hoping deep inside that she was still awake. He felt the urge to hug her tightly and to sink in her cozy smell.

“I see that you’re already asleep, you mo... smart woman.”

MC made a wonderful job suppressing a smile. She knew that it was rare to hear Kaga making a compliment. Though, she knew that every time he thought that she isn’t listening, he couldn’t stop himself from verbally appreciating her.

When he finally got in bed, she rolled near him, putting her hand on his broad chest and her head on his shoulder.

“Good night, Hyogo” she whispered lovingly.

Kaga blushed. Kissing her hair, he soon fell asleep. He made a mental note to ask her something the next morning. Though, when he woke up he didn’t remember if he wanted to find out if she heard him saying that she is smart, if he wanted to know her thoughts about the case he just finished or something else. Instead, he chose to made her remember how much he loves her and how important she is to him.

[emachinescat]

Mac + Cheese

A MacGyver Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat ​

@febuwhump​ day 25 / alt. 8 - allergies

Summary: Mac struggles to readjust to civilian life after the army, so Jack surprises him with a furry friend to help him out. Unfortunately, Mac's allergic to dogs. 

Characters: Mac, Jack, a dog named Cheese

Words: 5,343

TW: mentions of PTSD

Note: Okay, okay, so this might be more fluff than whump, but there is an allergic reaction, so it counts, right? :) This is another late Febuwhump entry, from when I got covid and couldn't finish it on time.  Also, a quick note – it is never a good idea to buy a pet as a surprise for anyone. As Jack realizes in this story, pets are a commitment, living creatures, and a person really needs to be prepared for the responsibility of having a pet before getting one. So in no way is this story encouraging you to surprise someone with a dog. It's just meant to be cute. Okay, PSA over. :) Hope you enjoy the story!

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, and/or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

Mac hadn't had a proper night's sleep in over four weeks. He'd tell you otherwise if you asked, of course, but the evidence was overwhelming. Every day, MacGyver's face grew paler, the darkness under his eyes deepened, and the look in his eyes became more distant. Jack had seen this happen to many soldiers – hell, it had happened to him. This tour hadn't been as bad as some of the previous ones Jack had experienced, but in the past …

Well, suffice it to say that Jack Dalton knew a thing or two about PTSD.

And as ugly of a look as it had been on him, as it was on anyone else, nothing had prepared him for how much it would hurt to see it on his little burger buddy. Shoot, when Jack had signed up for another tour to keep an eye on the kid, it was to keep him safe in the Sandbox, but now that he was home, Jack felt like Mac was in just as much danger of losing himself here as he had been of losing his life in Afghanistan. That was part of the reason Jack had found a place in L.A. instead of going straight back home to Texas. That, and a potential job for the two of them he was investigating at the DXS, but ultimately, it wouldn't have mattered where the jobs were. Jack had already decided to locate himself wherever Mac was.

Jack had tried to help the best that he could. He'd been on call all hours of the night, had had Mac over at his place when the nightmares got too bad, had crashed at Mac's place whenever his roommate was out of town and Mac couldn't be alone. He'd tried to get Mac to talk many times, but one thing he'd learned about the kid was that although he could go on and on for hours about geek squad science stuff, he was a master at talking a lot without actually saying anything important. And he didn't talk about himself at all.

Jack knew there was a lot to unpack. Hell, Mac's C.O. had been killed in front of him. The kid had screamed awake from many a nightmare about that one. He'd nearly been killed multiple times, been under fire, disarmed over a hundred IEDs in a single day, had been through hell right alongside Jack in the Sandbox, and Jack sometimes had to remind himself that the kid was still, well, a kid. Fresh out of school, hadn't even finished college before joining the army. He'd seen more violence and bloodshed than most people twice his age. His skill set put him right there in the middle of the death and danger, a twenty-year-old bomb nerd with a glowing neon target on his back.

And now he was back home, and everything was different. Jack knew this because he had been here too, once, not because Mac talked about it. He understood exactly what his friend was going through – he was home, but home wasn't the same. He smiled when he spoke to his friends, his roommate, even Jack, sometimes, but the smile was hollow and so were his eyes. The nightmares followed him wherever he went and he couldn't adjust, and he kept all the turmoil to himself, not wanting to be a bother, not thinking he deserved sympathy or whatever help his friends wanted to give him.

Finally, Jack reached the point where he had no idea what to do. What had ultimately pulled him out of his own personal hell after the worst tour of his career had been a very good friend, but no one, not Jack, not Bozer, not Mac's childhood friend Penny, seemed able to penetrate the layers of protection that Mac had built up around himself.

Maybe, he thought, as he stared pensively at the computer screen, Mac needed a friend who didn't try to get him to talk at all, one who would just be there for him and listen and drool all over his hand and take dumps in his backyard. Maybe, Jack ventured, the light bulb going off in his brain at the ad for the Battle Buddy Foundation and their service dogs for vets, Mac needed a dog.

***

Bozer was out of town at some movie convention the next weekend, so Jack put his plan into motion. He hadn't had a chance to run it by Mac's oldest friend yet, but he knew that if a dog would help Mac, then Bozer wouldn't mind a new addition to the household. Bozer would just be in for a surprise when he got home.

It had taken a lot of trips to animal shelters to find just the right fit for his partner, but Jack had been determined. He'd tried the Battle Buddy Foundation, but since he wasn't looking for a service dog for himself, that had been a no-go. Plus, there were just so many hoops to jump through and qualifications to meet and interviews to be had, and Mac needed help now. So he had scoured shelters and rescues, looking for a dog of just the right size and temperament for his buddy. The next two weeks were going to be a trial basis, and if Mac and the pup clicked, Jack would seal the deal. If not, then there was already another interested party lined up for the adoption.

The dog's name was Cheese, and he was a four-year-old golden retriever mix who loved cuddles, thrived on attention and exercise, and even looked a little like Mac with his long, flowing blonde locks. Also, Jack couldn't get past how perfectly the names synced up – how could he pass up the possibility of Mac and Cheese?

***

As Jack had predicted, Mac fell in love with Cheese the moment he laid eyes on him.

"Jack!" Mac grinned, falling to one knee right in the middle of the sidewalk. "Who's this?" Jack let Cheese wag his little tail happily over to Mac and watched with rising excitement as the pooch immediately began nuzzling and licking a laughing Mac all over. He watched as Mac scratched Cheese's furry head, found the sweet spot behind the ears, and buried his hands in the fur around the dog's neck.

"This," Jack said, "is your new best friend."

Mac looked up from having his face licked off and narrowed his eyes. "What did you do to Bozer?"

Jack tried to act like he wasn't offended that Bozer had been Mac's go-to on the "best friend" front. "Nothing."

"Then are you leaving me?" Despite the joke, a bit of uncertainty had wormed its way into Mac's voice, and Jack could have kicked himself.

"No, man, I don't mean it like that! Cheese ain't replacing anybody, he's just the newest member of the family!"

A hesitant half-smile pulled at Mac's lips. "You got me a dog?" He cocked his head. Cheese mimicked him, ears flopping as his head tilted adorably to one side. "I'm sorry – did you say his name is Cheese?"

Jack nodded proudly.

Mac kept scratching Cheese behind the ears, but he stared at Jack suspiciously. "Did you name him that?"

Jack's nod turned into a vigorous shake. "No, that's what he was called at the shelter, man. It helped me pick him out for ya. It was like fate."

"Fate?" Mac looked like he really didn't want to know.

"Mac and Cheese, hoss."

"No," Mac said shortly. "Just… no."

***

Mac ended up keeping the name.

It wasn't that he liked the lame pun or anything, but Cheese had apparently been called Cheese for a long time and refused to respond to anything else. Mac wanted to call him Fibonacci, but one look into those big brown eyes that lit up when Mac said Cheese, and one glimpse of the way his tail flopped around excitedly at the sound of his name, made Mac change his mind. Cheese obviously liked being Cheese, and who was Mac to try to change him?

"Besides," Jack pointed out no less than five times on the day he introduced them, "Mac and Cheese belong together, man. Cheese without Mac is pretty good, I'll admit, but Mac without Cheese is just a noodle." He shook his head sadly, and Mac couldn't help but grin. "Just a limp noodle."

***

Cheese slept in the bed with Mac that night, curled up close beside him, warm and big and furry. Mac didn't have nightmares, mostly because he didn't sleep. He couldn't sleep. He could feel a cold coming on, and the persistent scratch in his throat kept him firmly tethered in that awful middle ground between waking and sleeping, where sleep is the most appealing thing you can imagine, but it is also the most unattainable. It would have been a thoroughly miserable night, except Cheese was wonderful company, and his soft snores, twitchy feet, and dog dreams were a balm to Mac's sleepless jitters.

Despite how much Mac loved Cheese already, he spent a large portion of the night thinking of reasons why it wasn't practical for him to have a dog. Bozer didn't know about Cheese, for one. Jack claimed that everything was fine, that Boze would be completely on board once he got home. But Mac didn't just want to spring a pet on his roommate. Having a dog was a huge responsibility, one that wouldn't affect just Mac, but anyone he lived with as well. Of course, there was the fact that Mac himself wasn't prepared to take care of a dog at all, either, even if Jack had taken it upon himself to buy half of PetSmart on his way back from the shelter. Mac felt like he could barely take care of himself half the time; what made him think that he could keep another creature alive and healthy?

Peña had died on his watch, after all. How long until his dog got hurt because of him?

It was at that thought that Mac realized he was spiraling into very dangerous thought patterns, and he only managed to drag himself away from them by distracting himself with the snuffling noises Cheese made while he slept and by feeling the soft warmth of his fur.

Maybe Jack was right – maybe a dog would do Mac some good.

Of course, there was the one problem that Mac found himself avoiding more earnestly the more attached he found himself growing to Cheese. It was perhaps the most glaring reason for not having a dog, but it was also the one Mac was determined to ignore at all costs, and yet he knew full well that he was not getting a cold as he had told himself when the symptoms first started. He recognized that tell-tale itch at the back of the throat and the heaviness of the head all too well, though he'd held out hope he'd grow out of it someday. The truth was in the sneezes, though, which started after midnight and only got more numerous and violent as the night progressed.

No, there had been a reason that Archimedes had been an outside dog. There was a reason Mac felt like he had a head cold coming on. And there was a reason that he should have told Jack no the second his friend had made it clear that Cheese was to be his dog.

Angus MacGyver was allergic to dogs.

***

Mac finally fell asleep around four in the morning, and woke up close to noon with a warm, furry head on his chest. The front of his t-shirt was soaked through – at first, he thought it was sweat, but as he gently extricated himself from underneath his new bed buddy, he quickly realized it was, in fact, drool. A great glob of it trailed from the puddle on Mac's chest up to Cheese's slightly parted mouth. Mac wrinkled his nose. "Gross," he whispered fondly, then shuffled into the bathroom to take a shower.

He felt like crap.

His nose and sinuses were packed, his head ached, his eyes stung, and when he stripped off his shirt, he noticed a red patch of welts where the drool had bled through. The second he laid eyes on the rash, the itching started, and it took every ounce of his training and willpower not to scratch. Instead, he turned the water on hot and scrubbed, but the itching didn't go away. The steam did clear his sinuses a bit, so he counted that as a win.

The click-clack of claws on tile announced that he had a visitor. Mac had left the bathroom door slightly cracked, and Cheese must have shoved his way in. Mac, in the middle of washing his hair, peeked around the shower curtain to see the dog sitting near the shower, his furry butt parked right on Mac's towel. Mac could have sworn the towel had been hanging up – Cheese must have pulled it down.

Cheese's tail started thumping against the floor as soon as Mac made his appearance, but the retriever scrambled to his feet, backed up a few panicked steps, and let out a tiny whine when he saw Mac's hair, covered in shampoo bubbles and sticking out at every angle. Mac couldn't help but chuckle at the dog's antics, but he did his best to smooth down his unfamiliar hair. "Hey, bud, it's just me, your old pal Mac!" When Cheese still looked uncertain, Mac ducked back under the water, rinsed the suds out, and poked his head back out. His hair was now soaked through and plastered to his head, but he must have looked more like himself, because Cheese skipped forward, let out a chipper bark, and turned a full circle before flopping back down onto the towel.

"You might just be the cutest dog I've ever met," Mac observed. With his stuffy nose, though, it sounded more like, You just bight be the cutest dog I'b eber met. He grimaced, coughed at a tickle building in his throat. "Too bad I can't breathe when you're around."

Mac finished his shower and trailed water across the floor on his quest to find a new towel since the last thing he needed was to rub himself down with more dog hair after Cheese had used his as a dog bed. Though he felt fairly miserable, he and his new friend passed a pleasant enough afternoon. Mac tried to make eggs and bacon. He ended up undercooking the eggs and burning the bacon. He was going to throw away the truly inedible bits, but Cheese blinked up at him with his big, sad eyes, and Mac couldn't resist. Cheese inhaled the extra crispy bacon bits that Mac sprinkled on top of his kibble, and then devoured the dog food like he'd never eaten before in his life and had no idea if he'd ever eat again. Watching Cheese eat reminded Mac semi-fondly of Jack at that cheap pizza place he'd dragged Mac to a few days after they got back home. Very messy, lots of gross chewing noises, but with so much joy and passion that Mac couldn't help but grin.

He took Cheese out to do his business, and the sight of the dog romping around in the grass almost made him forget how awful he felt. He did laugh, long and hard, when Cheese stumbled over his own front paws in a desperate bid to snap at a butterfly. The dog took the opportunity to flop over on his back and roll around heartily in the dirt. Mac stopped laughing when his chuckles turned to wheezes.

Mac had planned to tinker with his newest project in the garage to occupy his time, but after the failed breakfast, his appetite and last reserves of energy vanished, and, chest tight, skin itchy, eyes streaming, and sinuses stuffed, he flopped down on the couch and turned on the TV. A rerun of Everybody Loves Raymond was on, and he didn't feel like changing the channel, so he slumped there, sick and itching and barely able to breathe, and half-watched a show he'd never really been too crazy about in the first place.

Jack came over a few hours later. He let himself in, as he had gotten in the habit of doing. He had a couple of paper grocery bags in his arms, and a huge grin on his face as he kicked the door open and crooned in a sickly-sweet baby voice, "Where's my new buddy? Where's my Cheesey Weezy?"

Cheese, who had been curled up on top of Mac's feet at the base of the couch, sprang to life at the sound of Jack's voice. He barked enthusiastically, clamored for the door, and knocked two picture frames off of the coffee table with his wildly wagging tail. Jack dropped the bags on the table – Mac heard the squeak of a dog toy from inside – and dropped to his knees. Cheese, like a pretty girl in a cheesy rom com, threw himself into Jack's open arms and, unlike most rom coms (at least that Mac had ever seen), proceeded to lick every inch of Jack's face with his sloppy, warm tongue. To his credit, Jack just squirmed and laughed at the dog's ministrations, clearly enjoying the attention. When he glanced over at Mac, though, Jack gently scooted Cheese away and got to his feet. He made his way over to Mac and looked down at him, brow furrowed.

"You look like hell."

"It's not so bad," Mac lied.

"Oh really?" Jack asked, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "It's 'dot' so bad, huh?"

Cheese trotted across the room with a flurry of clattering claws, and tried to jump into Mac's lap. Mac laughed, doing his best to protect himself from the clumsy paws of a dog who didn't know how big he actually was. "Down, boy! You're way too big to be a lap dog!"

Cheese didn't exactly listen, but paraded right over Mac, big paws digging painfully into his stomach and legs. The dog wedged himself in the small space between Mac and Jack, attempted to turn in a circle, realized he didn't have enough room, and then flopped down contentedly with his front half on Mac's lap and his rear end on Jack's.

"He's a heavy thing, ain't he?" Jack grinned, reaching over and giving Cheese a loving scratch between the ears. Cheese's tail went crazy with excitement. Jack chuckled and then returned his attention to Mac. "What's wrong with you, hoss? You got a cold or somethin'?"

Mac glanced down at the dog resting his head on his knee, caught a glimpse of sweet, innocent brown eyes blinking up at him, and decided against telling Jack the truth. As much as Jack adored Cheese, Mac knew that if he found out the truth, he'd insist that they find Cheese a new home. And although Mac didn't love the idea of living the rest of his life feeling like he had a constant head cold, the presence of the dog in his lap was so comforting, so warm and safe, that he didn't have the heart to give him up.

"Yeah," he fibbed. "Or something."

***

Later that afternoon, with a half-eaten box of pizza on the coffee table and Die Hard playing on the TV, Jack glanced over at his young companion, who had drifted off with Cheese snuggled up against his his side. The dog was sleeping too, the most adorable snores Jack had ever heard whistling out of the black button nose.

"A cold, huh?" Jack muttered, scooting a bit closer to his friend. Mac's response to Jack's questions earlier hadn't set right with him, but Jack hadn't pressed the issue then. Now, though, he pressed the back of his hand gently against Mac's forehead, freezing when Mac stirred, then relaxing when he stilled. No fever. Jack pulled back, then paused when he caught a glimpse of red peeking out from the collar of Mac's shirt. Frowning, Jack pulled back the collar just enough to confirm that what he was looking at was an angry rash.

"A cold, my ass," Jack groused. He was about to pull back when a peculiar sound caught his attention, something that he couldn't quite identify but that just felt wrong. He grabbed the remote, muted the movie, and listened closely. There! In the dead space between Cheese's snores, a strained, grumbling wheeze accompanied the rise and fall of MacGyver's reddened chest. "Oh, Mac," he muttered, putting two and two together. He could see the full picture now – he recognized the signs of a bad allergic reaction when he saw one. He couldn't be frustrated at Mac for lying to him, though, not when he could see, plain as day, the reason why Mac had pretended he had a cold. It lay there between them on the couch, golden fur and brown eyes and cold black nose and a tail that never quit.

"Oh, boy," Jack breathed. "What have I done?" Why the hell had he not thought to check to see if Mac had allergies before he'd gone and adopted him a damn dog? Jack vaguely remembered Mac talking about a dog he'd had as a kid, with a nerd name he couldn't remember, and supposed he'd just assumed allergies wouldn't be a problem. Clearly, he had been wrong.

"Okay, buddy," Jack said, waking Cheese up with a big kiss on the top of his head and a gentle nudge on the butt. "You're gonna have to get up now. I know, I know, you're comfy."

Once a disgruntled Cheese had clicked off to check his food bowl for the umpteenth time, Jack shook Mac awake.

It wasn't a violent awakening, like many had been since returning home, but Mac's eyes did snap open with a sense of urgency, and he stared blankly around at his surroundings like he didn't know where he was for several long moments. Then, finally, he locked eyes with Jack, took a deep, wheezing breath, and coughed. "Where's Cheese?"

Jack shot Mac a sympathetic smile. "I think he's stress eating 'cause I kicked him off the couch. Do animals do that?"

Mac shrugged miserably, seeming younger than Jack had ever seen him. The kid looked awful – his eyes were red and watery like he'd been crying, and his whole face had a concerning puffiness to it. With his raw, bright red nose, he could have been trying out for the part of Rudolph in a Christmas pageant. The rash was spreading, too; Jack could see it reaching up his neck. "Jack," he said in a resigned voice that was almost a whine.

Jack knew what was coming. "Yeah, bud?"

"I'm allergic to dogs."

Jack let out a rueful chuckle. "No kidding. Why didn't you tell me from the beginning?"

Mac blinked over at Jack with big, blue, swollen eyes. "You were so excited about the surprise. And I haven't had a pet since Archimedes, when I was a kid. Besides, back then, my allergies weren't so bad. I think they've gotten worse."

Jack sighed, ran a hand over his face, and said heavily. "You know you can't keep Cheese now, right?"

A great sadness bloomed in Mac's expression. "Jack… I love that dog."

"I know you do. And I'm so sorry, man, I shouldn't have tried to surprise you with a dog. I mean, that's a whole-ass commitment, and I didn't even ask Bozer if you had any allergies first! I was just…" He trailed off, not sure how much he wanted to say. Not sure how much Mac would want to hear. MacGyver had never been one to discuss emotions.

But Mac seemed to have caught on. He offered Jack a small smile. "You were trying to help, I know. I knew it from the moment you introduced me to Cheese." A weighted pause. "Jack, I… I know I haven't been easy to be around this past month. But I promise, I'm working on it. The nightmares are easing a little, and I–"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow your roll there, cowboy," Jack cut his friend off. "You think I got you a dog to make you easier to deal with? You're not a burden, Mac. You're just carryin' a lot of your own. But that's what I'm here for. To help." He swallowed, his mind wandering back to his own experiences after his worst tour. "I've been where you are. I know how difficult this transition is, and after everything you've seen, well, I – I guess I just thought you needed a friend to help you through it, that's all."

Mac frowned in confusion. "Jack… I already had a friend like that. You."

Jack twisted his hands together in a rare display of nervousness. "I… I just couldn't tell if I was doing enough. I felt helpless. And I read this article about therapy dogs, and you're basically a golden retriever yourself–"

A congested, startled laugh cut Jack off. "Excuse me? I'm basically a what?"

A genuine smile overtook the uncertainty on Jack's face. "Oh, you know. Blonde, big, innocent eyes. Loyal to a fault. Full of energy, easily distracted." He paused, felt a slight blush rise in his cheeks. "And a damn good companion."

Mac scratched the side of his face, deep in thought. He didn't speak for a few seconds. Then – "I… I genuinely don't know how to respond to that, Jack. I mean, you said some really great things, but you still called me a dog."

Jack grinned wolfishly. "At least I didn't call you a bitch."

Mac rolled his eyes. "Yeah, there's that."

A companionable silence, broken only by the sound of Mac's strained breaths and the messy slurp of a dog lapping up water in the background. Then Mac added uncomfortably, his long fingers fidgeting in his lap, "Thank you for always being there for me, man. And I do appreciate the gesture. I…" His eyes misted up, and this time, it wasn't from allergies. "I really, really wanted to keep Cheese."

Another pang of guilt twisted Jack's gut. He felt bad for Mac and for the dog that had already bonded with him. At least he knew that there was another interested party, that either way Cheese would go to a loving home. "I'm sorry for putting you in this situation, Mac. But if it helps, there's another interested family on the waiting list, if it didn't work out with you. They've got kids."

Mac nodded, but he still looked downcast.

"Hey, brother, before we deal with anything else, we need to get some drugs in you. You're wheezing pretty bad there."

Mac nodded, distractedly rubbing his chest. "Yeah, it's kind of hard to breathe."

Jack got up and walked to the bathroom, carefully stepping over Cheese who had fallen asleep in the middle of the hallway. He came back after rummaging through the medicine cabinet, armed with hydrocortisone, Benadryl, a glass of water, and a wet, warm cloth. Mac groaned when he saw the Benadryl. "I'm going to sleep for the rest of the evening," he complained.

"Yeah, well, you might get to breathe for the rest of the evening too," Jack shot back unsympathetically. He dropped two bright pink pills in Mac's reluctant palm and shoved the glass of water into his other hand. He made sure to watch closely to check that Mac didn't try to pull a fast one over on him, but the kid did actually swallow the Benadryl – a testament to how truly bad he felt. Then Jack instructed Mac to lie back and closed his eyes, and placed the warm cloth over his eyes and forehead. "I'm going to unbutton the top of your shirt, okay?" he warned, and Mac nodded sleepily. Jack undid the first few buttons, revealing the red, swollen rash beneath. "Geez, kid. You look like you got bit by a radioactive lobster." Mac snorted, but didn't dignify the joke with a further response. Jack gently spread the hydrocortisone cream across Mac's chest, rebuttoned the shirt, and stood back to admire his handiwork.

Mac was already asleep and snoring. Jack smiled indulgently at his friend, glad he was in for some uninterrupted, hopefully peaceful sleep. He also planned to keep a close watch on the kid over the next few hours, because if that rash or wheezing didn't get any better, Mac was going to a clinic for a steroid shot whether he wanted to or not.

Jack left Mac lying there and moved to the hallway, lowering himself to the floor next to Cheese. "Hey, bud," he said as the dog woke up, his tail already approaching the sound barrier. He gave the golden retriever a warm hug and got a few slimy kisses in return. "I'm sorry for putting you through this, you know," he said, petting the golden head in a show of comfort – for himself or the dog, he didn't know. "I was just trying to help my buddy. But I promise you, the family that you're going to is going to love you as much as Mac does." A pause, then a soft kiss on a furry head. "As much as I do." Thump, thump, thump went the tail. "Man," said Jack. "It really sucks this didn't work out. After all, who doesn't love Mac and Cheese?"

***

Mac and Jack dropped off Cheese at the shelter together the next day, Mac still sounding like he had a cold but looking more like himself overall. The family next in line to adopt the dog met them there, and the look in the little girl's eyes when she saw her new best friend was almost enough to outweigh the pain and guilt in Jack's heart.

Mac got down on one knee to say goodbye to his new buddy. Jack gave a nervous chuckle and tried to pull him up by the back of his shirt. "Mac," he hissed, "You're going to go into amphibian shock if you keep petting that dog."

"Anaphylactic," Mac corrected instantly. "And no, I'm not. I will, however, be taking more Benadryl when I get home." Then Mac proceeded to wrap his arms around Cheese's furry neck and bury his face in warm fur. Cheese wagged his tail and licked Mac's ears and neck and face when he resurfaced. Mac laughed jovially, and Jack grinned down on him, his worry fading at the joy he saw in his young friend. The laugh turned into a cough, then a sneeze, and Jack really did haul Mac up by his shirt. "Okay, hoss, that's enough." Mac pouted, but obeyed. His face was already looking like a tomato.

The little girl's mom stepped forward to take the leash, a sympathetic look in her eyes. She glanced over at her husband, a query in her gaze, and after a moment, he nodded. "Hey, listen," she said, reaching out and giving Mac a kind pat on the shoulder, "I'm really sorry you couldn't keep Cheese. But if your allergies can handle a visit every so often, maybe we can meet up in the park sometime, let you take him for a walk?"

Mac's miserable, beet-red face lit up with more than a terrible allergic reaction. His smile was infectious, and Jack found himself grinning like an idiot, too. "Yeah," Mac said. "I'd love that."

The woman smiled, then the family turned away, heading into the shelter to complete their paperwork. Jack nudged Mac in the side. "You ready for some Benadryl?"

"Actually," Mac said, and the wheeze had infected his voice. "I think a steroid shot might be in order."

Jack grimaced. "That bad, huh?"

Mac didn't answer, but the rash spoke for him.

"C'mon, ya limp noodle," Jack said, slinging his arm around Mac's shoulders and propelling his allergy-laden buddy toward the car. "Let's get you to a doctor."

[carryonmywaywardwriters]

One Day At A Time - Jensen x Reader

A/N: Part Seven! If you’d like to be tagged, please send an ask or message. As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Widower!Jensen. Drunken Shenanigans. Upcoming smut.

Word Count: Roughly 2,100

“Get ready, we're going out.” Sure that your brain had short circuited, you ignored the deep order. Continuing to read your book as if no one had spoken. “Hello, anyone home?” A large hand waving by your hand tugged you from the pages. Almost pouting, Jensen managed to catch your attention. “Are you even listening to me?”

“I'm sorry,” Carefully, you set down the novel. Folding your hands primly on your lap, you found your best lady of the manor impression. “Continue, Master.”

“Brat,” His eye roll made your lip twitch. Moving on, he straightened the deep grey t-shirt over his jeans. “Mom and pops are coming up to steal the kids for the night.”

Failing to see what that had to do with you, your eyes turned back down to the page in your hands. Finally to the moment where the characters discovered their feelings matched. Coming together in a blind passion. Only to be called back to order with a deep throat clearing. “So, how does this involve me exactly?”

“We're. Going. Out.” The drawn out order had you pinching your brows. Becoming aware that you had heard right. “Don't give me that look.”

“Am I supposed to be your wing man, here? Or...” An unamused frown curling your lips downwards made him roll his eyes for the second time. “It's a legitimate question.”

“You're supposed to go out. Get drunk. Make some bad decisions. And most importantly? Have fun.” He pulled out the finger wag and all.

“You're such a dad.” But the last bit got the desired response. You laughed at the cheesy speech. With a dramatic huff, the book was set aside. His overzealous fist pump only earned an eye roll. “This is only because I know you're going to nag me to death if I don't give in.” And absolutely nothing to do with his sparkling green eyes. Plush smile. Definitely not the curved up lips. Shaking your head, you got to your feet too quickly. “What's the dress code?”

“Bar finery.” That you could do.

Jean shorts. A billowy, black tank top that emphasized what you had to work with. Hair styled to the 't'. Just enough makeup to feel like you were actually trying. Nothing fancy. And yet, just the process of getting cleaned up lifted your mood.

“I wanna go with you!” Arrow sulked when she realized you were going out. Bottom lip out in full force.

“They're having adult time.” Justice Jay's answer was to the point. And yet, it sounded almost scandalous. You could feel your cheek's heating up as the adult Ackles' looked over you. Almost as though they were under the same mindset.

Jensen had no problem taking everything under control. Shooing his spawn and parents with an inspiring efficiency. Then he was flipping his keys in his hands, “You ready?”

“As ready as I'm getting,” Your bag rested over your hip. Shifting, you tried to ignore his deep inspection of your person. Well aware that your own brain was your enemy.

“Take it off.”

“Excuse me?”

“The bag.” His answer restarted your heart. And then came the pinched brows. “Don't give me that look. You don't need it. Tonight's on me.”

With a frown, you stared him down, “You're awfully bossy today.”

His arm fell across your shoulders, “I'm just tryin’ to lighten the mood around here. Besides, I owe you. You've been holding down the fort while I jump all around town.” Another pull followed at the reminder.

There'd been five dates. Five nights of trying to cheer up the bachelor afterwards. All while you procrastinated getting set up, yourself. Clearly, he'd decided enough was enough. Sighing, you took off the purse. Expecting the worst from the night ahead.

“This is ridiculous,” You laughed an hour later as the shot glass was pushed your way. Having already been primed with half a dozen wine coolers, your blood was simmering. Resisting the urge to peek around; trying to find the boogieman in the corners of the busy bar. So sure that the public would eat you alive. That a trap was laid out around the bend.

“Good,” Jensen raised his own. Seemingly unafraid of anything. “About time you do somethin' a little irresponsible.” With that toast for the ages, he tipped back one. Watching as you choked down the smooth liquid. More than a little out of practice. Being the good man he was, your glass was replaced with another from the tray as soon as it was emptied.

The actor would be lying if he said he didn't appreciate the way you relaxed across from him. Forgetting about everything his life had thrown at you. Leaning your elbows onto the table after the second drink. Eyes alight with nothing less than mischief as the alcohol buzzed more in your veins. Enjoying the way the music throbbed through the air. Nineties night in full swing. “How'd you find this place?”

“Jared and I used to hit it up,” Came the easy answer. You weren't the only one out of practice, “Wanted to see if it still had the same energy.” The response only drew back everything that everyone wanted to forget.

“Does it?”

Instead of answering, his fourth and final shot on the tray was taken, “Looks like you've got some catchin' up to do, kid.”

“Kid?” A snort left you at the challenge. Back to back, the final two were finished. Going down smoother as you found your rhythm. “Another round, old man?”

“That's my girl,” His words burned through your body. Straight to the pit in the middle of your stomach. With that, he got to his feet. Hunting down another bundle.

Your eyes trailed over him. Watching the confident swagger of his bow legs. The tall, straight edge of him that carried an edge of danger. Noting the way his back pressed against the thin material of his henley. Too strong for your sanity. Cursing yourself, you pushed up to your feet. Trying to regain a semblance of sense.

Nelly blasted through the speakers as you weaved through the flailing millennial crowd. All reminiscing over their childhood as they drank down their problems under the white and blue lights. Not caring that the arrogant song came from the 2000's. “Shake Your Tailfeather” had bodies writhing. More twerking than you remembered from the time hitting across the floor.

The throb of it had your hips swinging more than you intended as you made your way over to the empty dart board. Letting the music draw you away from your thoughts, you gathered the arrows. Refusing to turn your gaze back to the bar. Taking all of the emotions simmering under your surface out on the wall.

Jensen found you letting the needle fly. Moving to the bass without realizing it. Missing the bulls-eye by a mile. He wasn't the only one who noticed.

The guy was mid-twenties. Crooked smile. All decked out in a striped sweater and jeans that flashed his ankles. Looking like something right out of Fresh Prince.

He watched the way you interacted with the kid. Polite smile. Leaning away from his touch as he tried to offer advice. Hitting to the left of the mark in the process.

“Jensen!” The relief in your voice was undeniable when you caught sight of the actor. “I was just telling...” Ackles told himself the twitch in his lip had more to do with how hard you were trying to remember the name rather than the fact that you hadn't cared enough to in the first place. “Him,” Clearly you'd given up. “That you'd promised to help me out.” When he didn't respond, you continued a little more pointedly. “With the darts.”

“He any good?” Masculine pride bubbled to the surface as the younger man looked him over. With his smooth skin. Not a line or grey hair in sight. Rolling his shoulders, the actor looked down on the punk.

“Not at all.” Your face fell at that answer. Believing that he was going to throw you to the wolves. Biting back his grin, Jensen reached over. Plucking the dart from your fingers. Still holding the second tray of drinks. Years of practice showed as he flicked his wrist. Leaving the needle embedded into the wall. Right where it needed to be. Showing the kid what good really looked like.

Muttering something that sounded a lot like an excuse, the guy left the scene. Bobbing his head as he began his hunt for his next victim in the crowd. “Nice hit, Winchester.”

The teasing tone turned Jensen's attention away from his kill shot, “Still got it.” His brows bounced when you laughed. Reaching for another glass from his hands. “Looked like you were struggling.”

“Darts are complicated.” You brushed off the encounter. As if it didn't really matter. Tossing back the next drink. Using it to steady your hormones as Missy Elliot took over the room. Pretending it would actually help.

“You really want to learn?”

Have him right behind you? Guiding your body? You'd expire on the spot.  And yet, self control was becoming less and less important. “Why not?”

The table beside you held the drinks as he moved in. It was a mistake. But the heady brush of his cologne over your senses blocked that out. It was one night. What would it hurt?

Time seemed to blur from the patrone. From the soft touch of his fingers against your hip and wrist. You didn't know how it happened. One minute, you were working on the darts.

The next? You were in the middle of the crowd. Whining your hips to “Right Thurr” by Chingy. Even the music forgetting the purpose of the night. A strong chest pressed to your back as your fingers dug into the back of his neck. Holding him over you as a warm bulge pressed against you. The deep grind of it sent sparks scattering through your body.

All at once, you spun around. Sense crashing back into place for the moment. Slapping your hand to his chest, you demanded his attention. Gazing up into the pink stained cheeks and glazed emerald. “Y/N?”

“We have to go home.” Something sparked in his eyes that forced you to remove all contact. You had to get away. Clear your head.

The entire ride home was filled with charged silence. Your uber driver sent amused glances between you two. As soon as you pulled into the driveway, you were out the door. Rushing to the place where you were sure you'd be safe.

When the door clicked behind you, it was as if all the air had been ripped from your lungs. He was right there. Too close. That heady, almost sweet scent cloaking the air between you two.

“I...” Speaking was practically impossible as he stepped closer. Nothing about the night made sense. And yet, your weakness held you right where you were. “I had...”

“Fun?” He finished for you. His eyes moving from yours down to your lips. The only thing you could do was nod dryly. Warning bells screamed in your head when his lips curled up. “Me too.” At the first touch of his fingers against your cheek, your pulse jumped. It was gentle. And yet, nothing had felt more threatening.

“We should...” Irresistible. That's the only word you could think as his caress against your cheek slipped down to your throat. It was impossible to hold out against the draw.

“Definitely.” Warm breath drifted across your face. He was the one who'd initiated contact. Who'd leaned in. But, it was you who lifted up. Unable to hold back for another second. Lifting your hands to his hold him where you wanted him as your lips pressed home almost innocently. If he was surprised, he didn't show it. Instead, he drug you closer as your head fell back. Strong fingers digging into your hair as his mouth moved down to your throat. Turning everything hot in a moment...

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon​​ @supernaturalginger​​ @lilulo-12​​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​ @michaelneedssomemilk​​ @lemondropirwin​​ @fanfictionismydeath​​ @neii3n​​ @zpandaqueen​

Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278​​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​​  @woodworthti666​​ @coldmuffinbanditshoe @weepingwillowphoenix​​ @delightfully-wicked​

ODAAT: @winchester-ofthe-lord​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @ima-be-a-mongoose​ @briagallen​ @agusdoti​ @my-proof-is-you @deanwinchestersmydaddy​ @sucker-for-dean @blacktithe7​ @thevelvetseries​ @sucker-for-dean  @sociopathtime​ @deans-baby-momma @aomi-nabi​​ @brandinicole911​ @demonqueen47​ @c-ly-g​ @bakabozza​ @socalgem1124​​ @hillface89​​ @winchester-fantasies​​ @redwineloves​​ @monkeymcpoopoo​​ @mcshloemer @chocolateheart​ @hystylessmendes @lyarr24​ @hugwinchester​ 

[yesyunniechan]

Detective Conan File 1012 [Japanese to English Translation]

PSA: Due to personal problems (finals), proofreader and typesetter is unavailable atm. This file was not proofread to make it perfectly English, and since I’m not native speaker, this might show. I apologize for inconvenience. TYPESET VERSION IS DELAYED UNTIL TOMORROW.

A reason behind Akai and Amuro's face off]

A bunny girl is targeted... Closing chapter of this story!!

[How much more should I repeat that, Keibu-san?!]

M: I did pass by Yuri-chan who was holding a glass but...

M: That was for just a moment...

M: I couldn't have poisoned her glass...

S: Same with me...

S: I simply bumped into her and splashed wine...

M: And I didn't have my glasses on when her glass was left in the table...

F: Even if I wanted to poison it, I didn't know which glass was hers...

M: Anyway, can I visit her in hospital? I'm worried about her!!

K: ...or so you say...

[A poisoned onee-san... Conan and Amuro have reached the truth?!]

K: But really you were so troubled by her pushing you to marry her, that you poisoned her...

K: And want to see her death with your own eyes, eh?

M: N-no...

S: Or maybe he is going to finish her off...

M: What about you?!

M: If she dies, you will become the first at sales and will receive a major bonus...

M: I heard from Yuri-chan... That you're troubled about the surgery cost of your dad who has a terminal disease!

S: Haah? This coming from a guy that used his butler in order to give the consolation money!!

M: Consolation money? What the?!

F: Ah, no...

F: That's...

Me: Anyway!

Me: How about all three of you would accompany us for the questioning?

Me: Yuri-san's glass could have been poisoned only by the three of you, so...

C: But... I think that rich uncle didn't do it!

Me: Eh?

C: You see, he passed by Yuri-san when he headed out towards the car parked outside in order to get his butler's glasses, right?

C: We asked his bodyguards that were next to that car...

C: They said that rich uncle came only to get the glasses... and he didn't behave strangely, see?

C: If I was the criminal that poisoned Yuri-san's glass, I'd be worried about the time and would've glanced at the club...

C: "Is it about time she drinks the poison?" or "the club will have an uproar... Like this!!

Me: Y... you're right...

C: Same with that bunny girl onee-san!

C: Even if she poisoned Yuri-san when she splashed the wine on her, you see... When Yuri-san went to changing room in order to replace stained cuffs, after covering her glass with a lid...

C: That onee-san took a call from a client and went somewhere, right?

C: If it was me, I wouldn’t have moved from there for sure, right?

C: Because somebody else could've taken the poisoned glass and drank it, see?

Me: I... I see...

C: Right? Uncle Kogoro thinks the same?

K: W-well, yeah...

A: Which means that the only one left is...

A: The one who was sitting next to Yuri-san's glass...

A: The butler, Fukamachi-san...

A: Only you?

M: Oi-oi, didn't you hear him?

M: When she left her glass on the table... Fukamachi-kun didn't have his glasses on, see?

M: Then how he was able to pick her glass in order to poison her?

A: Didn't he have something that could act as a replacement for his glasses?

M: Replacement for glasses?

M: Really?

F: Ah, no.. I was merely checking the mail on the smartphone...

M: And he didn't have anything but smartphone!

A: Right... That's why...

C: Smartphones are awesome!!

R: Hey, Conan-kun?!

R: They are talking about something really important here...

C: Look! If we switch to camera and use zoom...

C: We can clearly see even the tips of Ran-nee-chan's fingers, just like a 

magnifying glass?

R: Eh?

M: R... right, with the use of that function...

T: You can see even without glasses...

T: Speaking of, Yuri-san is always wearing nail-wraps with lily pattern...

T: It's possible to determine her glass by targeting her nails...

M: B... but Fukamachi-kun didn't have his glasses on because I accidentally stepped on them...

K: He plotted it!

K: He knew that you use sauce with tamagoyaki...

K: So he moved it away from you on purpose... so that you won't reach it with just one step...

K: And after dropping glasses on the floor...

K: He made it look like you accidentally stepped on them!

A: Well, that trick with his glasses...

A: Wasn't it done in order to send his master, Morooka-san away from the crime scene...

A: So that he won't become a suspect?

A: But it was pointless since he became a suspect by passing Yuri-san anyway...

M: I... is it true? Fukamachi-kun?!

A: And when his master left the club...

A: He rang the alarm on purpose... So that Yuri-san would put her glass on the table in order to check for earthquake notification...

A: Using the zoom function of his smartphone's camera he determined Yuri-san's glass...

A: And put poison inside it...

A: By the way, it is highly possible that the phone with the alarm and...

A: The phone with camera's zoom function were two different phones...

A: That's why I suppose we'll find it after a body search, right?

A: Those two smartphones...

T: Then let us investigate...

F: There is no need in this...

F: I do carry 2 phones...

F: I bought another one... and rehearsed that so many times...

F: For my late mistress's sake...

M: Are you saying that you poisoned Yuri-chan for my wife's sake?!

F: Yes... To open your eyes, master...

M: O.. open eyes?

F: It hadn't even been half a year since mistress left this world...  

F: And you're already infatuated with that young girl!

F: I served my mistress ever since she was a little girl... My poor poor mistress...

F: I even took the liberty of offering her money so that she won't come close to master anymore but she refused... 

F: I prepared that threatening letter...

F: But it didn't have any effect so I decided to use force... 

F: If I put girl you took a liking of in danger...

I thought that you would stop visiting this club...

F: This is my last wish... Please stop making mistress sad...

M: No, you're wrong... That girl isn't just a girl I like...

A: But your daughter...

A: Correct?

[D-daughter?!]

S: Hm! Stop saying that nonsense!

S: Don't tell me the reason is that both of them eat tamagoyaki with sauce!

A: This is a mere habit... Similarities do accidentally occur but...

A: They way both of them hold hashi without using an index finger...

A: That cannot be a coincidence...

A: When you were young you eloped and lived in Tottori for 4 years, your daughter, Yuri-san...

A: Imitated your way of holding hashi when she was little and remembered it... Everything makes sense now...

A: You rapidly gained and lost weight in order to change your bodyshape and try new suits...

A: And by falling often you tore your suits and had to buy new ones...

A: Everything was for the sake of having to go to the clothing store next door...

A: So you could use it as a reason to come to this club and meet your daughter, right

M: Y... yes...

M: Even without looking at the way she holds hashi I knew it from the very first sight...

M: She looked just like the girl I eloped with and had the name that I gave...

R: That's why he didn't use honorifics that time...

F: Then why didn't you tell me...

M: I couldn’t bring myself... to say that I wanted to meet my daughter of when I eloped... To you, who was so loyal to my wife..

M: "All the more since my wife and I didn't have children, so...

F: N... no...

F: What have I done... To my master's daughter...

F: What have I~...

T: I see... Thank you for calling...

Me: Hm? What?

T: The hospital just called...

T: Yuri-san regained consciousness...

T: And is recovering well!

K: Oo,  really!

R: That't great!!

M: How about the two of us vising her at the hospital after some time? You can apologize to her...

F: No.. I won't be able to face her...

M: She'll forgive her if we explain the reason...

M: She's my daughter after all...

F: Y-yes...

M: But you were pretty good...

M: At figuring out that I gained and lost weight and fell just to see my daughter...

A: Yeah, well...

A: Of course I do...

A: That when I was a child and wanted to meet a certain female doctor...

A: I used to injure myself on purpose so that I could go to the hospital she worked in...

Am: You messed up... Akai Shuichi

Ak: Those words...

Ak: How about I say the same to you...

Ak: Bourbon!

Am: How stupid...

Am: You lost the moment I saw through your Okiya Subaru disguise...

Ak: And what if I say that I predicted...

Ak: That you'll sneak in here today...

Ak: And that you made a spare key...

Ak: And that you received an order to investigate Kudo Shinichi...

Am: Heh...

Am: Looks like, to shut that mouth...

Am: There's no other way but to pull the trigger..

Ak: W-who are you?!

Yus: The owner of this house, Kudo Yusaku...

Yus: Since today, unlike previous time...

Yus: Your companions appear not to be here, so...

Yus: How about you relax and enjoy some tea...

Yus: That my wife brewed...

Yuk: Lemon or milk...

Yuk: Which one would you prefer?

[Amuro is taken aback by Yusaku and Yukiko's appearance... What is the plan of those three?! Next issue - start of a long series!!]

[serenephenix]

... To help you

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

…To help you

[Fandom]:Voltron: Legendary Defender

[Rating]: Gen/ Gen

[Genre]: Family, Hurt/Comfort, centers around Veronica, Marco & Lance

[Warning]: mention of very protective but ultimately supporting siblings

[Word count]:  4.800

[Status]: completed

Post season 7 – related to this post I made

[Omg help me I’m back on my shit again. After months of having been unable to write I can’t seem to stop. Have fun guys. This is suuuuuuper self-indulgent by the way. Kudos to anyone who makes it to the end.]

[Important PSA after the first comments on Ao3: No bashing the team, be it in the tags or in a reblog. Lance is not a prize to be won by either side]

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 Once might have counted as nothing more than a fluke. A second time she might play off as a coincidence maybe. By the third time, Veronica had a sinking feeling plaguing her. After the fifth time, she had stopped counting and instead started to consider that this had to be more than a mere “fluke”.

Far be it from her to hold grudges or make hasty decisions, but the more time Veronica spent around team Voltron, the angrier she became almost every instance.

Honestly, the fact that her ire had grown enough to be noticeable even to her family was admirable in itself – there were few people that could pride themselves in having disturbed Veronica’s inner peace so profoundly that she was falling back into bad habits.

“You’re chewing on your pencil.”

She startled, taken aback by Marco’s nonchalance. She cleared her throat and demonstratively put the poor, abused tool down to recline in the uncomfortable chair they had stolen from another room down the hall so that at meals everyone had a chance to sit at the relatively small workbench that served as their table and “office” outside of office.

But the last one only truly concerned Veronica herself.

Marco was idly scrolling through something on a datapad, finger lazily dragging along the surface. Judging by his expression it had to be pictures from before the war had broken out – small glimpses of the past he had managed to take with himself on an even smaller chip he had guarded with his life. It was incredible he had ever thought of taking them with him, much less having stored them there in the first place.

The original chip still hung around his neck, attached to a sturdy necklace and protected by a plastic casing that had seen better days already. A testament to the trials and losses the journey from Cuba had brought with it.

She caught a glimpse of a picture –fairly old, since she caught her nine year old herself in the left-hand corner – and she felt something in her chest tighten as she caught sight of Abuela smiling up from an angle. Such a sweet smile, unsuspecting of all the terrible things that were to come.

There was no way that Marco had not noticed her taking off her glasses to wipe at the corners of her eyes, but he had the grace to not further comment on it.

“I miss her.”

“Me too.”

She wished she could have seen her at least one more time. Once the Galra had arrived she had not managed anything more than to text her family in a group chat, telling them to run and hide.

After communications had been cut by the invaders, there had been many nights where Veronica had lain awake, wondering, worrying, sometimes crying in the privacy of her small bathroom.

So, when she had reunited with them months later after the missions in the tunnels, the joy had blinded her to the terrible truth for a few minutes.

Knowing that her family was mostly safe and unharmed was a blessing, but as her parents sat her down and told her in soft whispers that their Abuela had suffered a stroke or heart attack during their crossing, Veronica could not stop herself from thinking that it was unfair.

One more time. What she wouldn’t give to tell her one more time that she loved her.

But it was too late, and as she rationalized (as much as it hurt), she was so much luckier than many of her friends and comrades. Many of them had no more family to return to outside of this building.

The gurgling and hiss of the faucet had Veronica looking up, watching with a small smile as Marco came back with a glass of water she accepted gladly.

“Thanks.”

Marco shrugged, corner of his mouth twitching upward a little.

He had been the one to try CPR on Abuela when it had happened. Of course he would, seeing how he had been a lifeguard at Varadero beach for a few years now. Still, it had not worked. Veronica hoped that Marco did not guilt himself over it.

Likely sensing she might ask first if he did not intervene, he pointed to her pencil, her gnawing having left clear indents in the smooth plastic: “What’s up with that?”

Veronica took a large gulp of water first, deciding if she should answer honestly.

Her mind was made-up instantly.

“Lance has been considering staying with us.”

Marco blinked at her in clear shock. His flat palm came to slap at his forehead before it started smoothing his hair back.

“Oooooh… so that’s what the whole morning crying was about.”

Veronica nodded. Neither she nor Lance had explained themselves to the rest of their family and so far she had respected that, even if Maria, Luis, Mama and Papa had needled her. They were worried and Veronica understood it all too well, but Lance was the one who needed to decide for himself when to open up about his impending choice. Today though had put a few things into perspective for her and she needed a second opinion for that, and out of all of their other family members, Marco was one of the more discrete ones. He’d know not to blab.

“I personally think he should stay.”

Marco did give her a questioning look at that but waved his hand for her to go on.

“A team should be about respect and trust. And there is nothing against teasing each other or making jokes. Even our MFE fighter pilots tend to do it,” she smiled fondly at that. One might not be able to tell, but those kids were masters of banter in their own right. According to Veronica’s own tally chart Leifsdottir and Kinkade were tied for first place, not by the amount of shots fired but by the accuracy and truthfulness of them. Griffin and Rizavi, even as a united force, stood no chance.

Veronica’s smile vanished though, as she remembered the interactions she had been privy to over the past week, where she had taken over for a communications officer that had fallen ill.

It was probably due to their late night conversation and the endless praise Lance would wax about his teammates, but what Veronica had seen and heard instantly made that cold yet blazing protectiveness resurge.

As she had concluded, team Voltron was indeed made up of wonderful individuals, unique and incredible in their own ways.

When one gave it a bit of thought, having former cadet Keith Kogane work almost seamlessly with a team felt like a fever dream. While Veronica had never personally interacted with the defiant youth back in the day, she had heard complaints from all of the staff forced to deal with him. The calm leader giving instructions over the comms was almost unrecognizable. Captain Shirogane always seemed to swell with quiet pride whenever it was pointed out.

Veronica could understand him all too well – if anyone were to talk that same way about Lance, she would likely not react any differently.

Pidge, or rather Katie Holt, was indeed just as smart as Lance had emphasized. Not that there had been any doubt about it during the briefings and strategy talks leading up to their final stand, the young woman coming up with a multitude of scenarios whenever a new element and detail was added to their plans. Veronica was all too curious about finding out just how she was processing things so quickly even without a computer handy. In regards to snark, she and Rizavi would get along wonderfully.

Hunk was the main reason they had managed to salvage many of their vehicles in the aftermath of the fight. She had yet to taste any of his cooking (which Lance reminded her daily was to die for), but what she could say was that he was a creative engineer. Just the other day, she had listened to him chatter with his friends all the while helping one of their engineering groups restarting an emergency generator for a medical facility. In the end, he and the other engineers had ended up building it from scratch, Hunk throwing in suggestion to get the most out of it. Some of these adjustment sounded downright alien - which they most likely were.

Princess Allura herself was one of the most regal and beautiful women Veronica had ever had the pleasure to meet. Which may be why she was rooting for her brother and, subsequently, liked flustering Lance with comments and remarks regarding Allura’s interest in him. But as much as Allura was a princess, she was also a kind and devoted person, one of the first to rise to coordinate the actions for reconstruction and the last to leave in the evening.

Amazing people in their own rights and yet…

“I do not think staying with team Voltron as it currently is will do Lance a lot of good in the long run.”

She looked at Marco over the rim of her glasses.

Her earnestness must have hit a nerve, since slowly Marco’s surprised expression shifted from disbelief to concern, his brow furrowing and mouth pinched.

“What makes you say that? Lance seems to like them. Can’t be that bad then, can they?”

Veronica let those words settle a little.

No, the members of team Voltron were not bad people, not by a long shot. But just as any other individuals with agency, they had their faults and made mistakes.

Allura, as Veronica had noticed, could be somewhat stubborn if she saw herself in the right.

Hunk could be dismissive of others when under pressure.

Pidge had a tendency to be unrelenting, be it in her very scientific explanations or tasks she had set herself.

Keith seemed to not always think things through entirely, sometimes getting blindsided by details that had not been discussed prior, ultimately tripping him up.

But all of these, in Veronica’s opinion, were excusable.

She needed to take a deep breath, indignation rising inside her like bile. It was not helpful or necessary at the moment. She needed to keep a clear head. Marco’s judgement need not be clouded by her feelings.

“Did you know that when you are in a relationship long enough, you become deaf to certain things being repeatedly said, both parties no longer noticing it even happens?”

Marco gave a cough that soon turned into full-blown laughter.

“Tell me about it. Marta would never shut up about me messing with her nifty system for all of our clothes,” his expression lost a bit of its mirth. Veronica could only guess that he was mentally revisiting the rooms of a house that was probably destroyed like much else on Earth, “After a while, it just became a running gag. Heh, even the kids were getting a laugh out of it.”

“Exactly.”

He started at her sudden interjection, at the harshness in her voice as she gripped the glass she was still holding with a little more force.

She took another deep breath as Marco slowly came closer, taking with him his chair with protesting screeches from chair legs dragging across the floor.

Once sitting, he leaned forward, crossed arms resting on the table’s surface, face grim.

“What’s going on?”

Veronica raised her left hand, elbow still on the table and started massaging her temple with her thumb. The pain when she pressed just the right spot was distracting enough to calm her.

“I’ve been dealing with communications for a while now, to help with coordinating the reconstruction efforts. Ever since Lance told me about wanting to quit, I might have paid more attention to him and his team, however subconsciously,” her lips twitched but there was nothing funny about all of it, “And this past week, since taking over for officer Anatoly, I’ve been in charge of communicating them their tasks. For that, I’m on the comms constantly and I hear everything that’s going on.”

She took off her glasses, putting them in front of her, wiping at her tired eyes. The screens were doing them little good.

Marco was kind enough to wait, even went to refill her glass and Veronica thanked him for it.

“I cannot tell you how many times Lance has been treated as ‘dumb’ in this one week alone.”

Marco’s stared at her open-mouthed, indignation making his shoulders hunch and his brow furrow so deeply that Veronica was almost afraid the resulting wrinkles would be permanent.

His mouth closed with an audible clack that had both of them wincing, but it did obviously not quell Marco’s anger.

“All of them?” He merely asked, and suddenly Veronica was no longer sure this had been such a good idea.

She put a firm hand on his shoulder, felt him tremor slightly under it.

“Not all of them.”

It still did not seem to appease him.

“What about his commanding officer? Shouldn’t he intervene?”

Veronica resisted the urge to suck in her lips, thinking back to all of the instances where Captain Shirogane had indeed intervened when the team’s discussions went too far off topic for them to still be entirely concentrated on their tasks.

Her heart felt heavy.

When words failed her, she merely shook her head.

“Just as I said: you become deaf at some point.”

The chair went crashing down as Marco surged to his feet, stomping towards the door, and it took all of Veronica’s strength and weight to stop him as she latched onto his wrist with both her hands.

He turned on her sharply, his eyes ablaze with fury and Veronica was so, so glad that she was not at the receiving end of that raw fury.

“This solves nothing,” she reminded him, her voice calm while everything inside her was anything but.

Marco tried to unlatch her, but if he thought her training was for nothing then he was sorely mistaken.

“MY BROTHER DID NOT GO TO WAR TO BE CALLED DUMB!”

His voice boomed through the confined space and Veronica was beyond thankful that right now everyone else was still gone, that luckily it was just them here.

Marco gave another shot at throwing her off, but just as with the first time, Veronica stood her ground, digging the heels of her shoes into the floor.

“I agree with you, I do,” she amended, voice growing louder at the last few words as Marco still resisted, “But antagonizing the people he looks up to and loves is not going to help him!”

Because her brother had told her as much. Shortly after their heart-to-heart, Lance had repeatedly come to her when he could not sleep. As far as Veronica could guess, the impending decision was robbing Lance of sleep. As if recurring nightmares he refused talking about were not already doing a fine job of it. On one of those nights, as Lance had heavily leaned into her side with drooping eyes, he had whispered about the time he had spent hunting coins in a mall’s fountain to get Pidge some retro console from Earth. He had fondly whispered of Keith’s cluelessness about simple cheers, mentioned Hunk and Pidge’s reprogrammed Paladude, a gaming session with Coran and their team leader (and Lance still refused to tell her why he had suddenly been crying at that one), or how Allura had helped him train with a cool sword he had yet to show Veronica.

Lance, undoubtedly, loved his team just as much as he loved them. And Veronica did not doubt that if she asked the team, they would likely call Lance their friend. That did not mean however, that they were properly showing their appreciation.

Veronica would be lying if she said that none of their own family had never called Lance a ‘brat’ or a ‘dumbass’ on occasion. Because Lance, for all of his helpfulness and sweetness, could be a pain to be around. Still, at the end of the end of the day and after every sibling squabble, there never had been any doubt that they loved and supported him.

And as she had observed recently, Lance had very much mellowed out and matured during his stay in space.

Which was why she agreed with Marco’s statement but could not allow her very loyal older brother to hunt down any perceived offenders on Lance’s behalf.

Lance did not need added conflict in his life, and Veronica would not forgive herself if she were to become the source of it.

Marco gave a huff but remained still, face turned to the closed door leading to the hall.

Veronica seized her chance.

“I want Lance to be happy. I promised him that I would respect his decision no matter what. And there might be a chance that Lance does want to go back out there. You’ve noticed as well, right?”

The way Lance would sometimes look out at the night sky, tiny dots of light reflected in his eyes as he gazed out with a longing that was far beyond any of their understanding. It was the core of Lance’s conflict.

He had seen space and its wonders, was enticed by it like those old sailors by the sirens’ calls, but just like the legendary Odysseus, her brother was tired and weary just like most of his friends.

And if Veronica had to guess, there was a good amount of loyalty involved in Lance’s indecisiveness.

Loyalty to his friends.

Loyalty to his duty as a defender of the universe.

Loyalty to their family.

Marco was growing less tense under her touch, allowing Veronica to let go with one hand to cover her eyes.

“If Lance wants to go back out there, I will let him,” her voice dropped to almost a whisper, “but I do not want him to be stuck with people that will inevitably bring him down.”

There was pressure building behind her eyes.

“I don’t want to lose him too.”

Barely a minute ago, she had held onto her brother to stop him from leaving, and the next she found herself enveloped in a bone crushing hug.

They held onto each other for a long time, Marco drawing back first as he gave her an apologetic smile.

“Is there any way to fix this mess?”

Veronica had given it some thought over the past few days. The conclusion she had come to was daunting.

“I think the first thing that needs to be done is addressing the issue. At this point, I’m afraid that Lance will try to rationalize it.”

When they had been younger, Lance tended to do that a lot. He might grow angry if someone treated him unfairly, but in the end he would always find a way to explain it away. Usually the common nominator was Lance himself. In an educational environment, it had sometimes saved Lance’s behind, since he’d end up applying himself more for upcoming tests.

But this was not school, and this was not merely tests they were talking about.

Veronica loathed to think what conclusions her might already have or might come to in the future, should a mission go wrong.

Marco gave a groan next to her, knowing all too well what his sister was referring to.

“What’s more is that Lance is not doing himself any favors. I’m talking about dismissing input that is too complex for him and shutting down attempts to simplify it.”

Because she had heard it herself. Usually it was Pidge, sometimes the Altean advisor that Lance would shut down the moment they went to explain a given topic in depth. At this point, it also no longer mattered whether this behavior was the origin or the result of the team’s perception of Lance.

“You called?”

Marco froze at the voice sounding from the door they had not heard opening, and Veronica felt any hope of formulating a plan of attack fly out of the window.

Marco turning around allowed them to look at Lance who stood in the entrance, head cocked to the side and holding out a generic white plastic bag.

Lance’s eyebrow was drawn up, giving both of them a very questioning look.

His expression was enough to tell them he had undoubtedly heard that last part.

This was not how she wanted this conversation to happen, but if they did not tackle this at once it would only lead to misunderstandings.

Marco was ready to stammer his way through a lie, she could practically hear the gears turning frantically inside his skull, and she decided to intervene at once.

“Actually, yes,” she gestured at the table with a placating smile, faltering a little when she noticed the chair still lying on the ground. That detail did not escape Lance’s notice and he frowned all the harder for it.

This was not going as planned.

Lance needed to be as relaxed as possible. She needed a distraction.

“What do you have there?” She asked, glancing at the plastic bag still dangling from Lance’s wrist. He appeared taken aback by her sudden interest, but a genuine, excited smile spread on his face.

“Oh! Yeah, this is from Hunk. I asked him if he could cook something for you guys, since none of you believe me he’s a good cook.”

He was bouncing over to the area where the plastic plates and cutlery were stored and Veronica watched a little helplessly as Lance set the table for the three of them while Marco quietly put the chair back in its place.

He looked so happy, pouring water into an electric kettle while dumping a few spoonful of a powder substituting coffee into three mugs.

She wanted this to last. She wanted for Lance to smile like this more often, to be happy and not worry about leaving people behind.

Once everything was set for the three of them, Lance saying he hoped the others would come soon, he finally wrangled out an inconspicuous hot pink bowl out of the bag. The moment he removed the lid, Veronica could feel her mouth water.

“Are those...,” Marco started, voice almost an awed whisper.

Lance’s grin was almost reaching his ears: “Yep!”

There was no mistaking it. Veronica would recognize one of her favorites from a mile away.

She knew she was gaping in a very undignified way but…

“How?” she breathed, taking one of the looped pastries between her fingers, inspecting it with wonderment.

“Don’t ask me. I have no idea how Hunk still managed to cook half of the stuff we ate on our trip back and still make it look like Earth food,” his expression momentarily turned into a grimace before easing into something less disgusted, “Sometimes you really don’t wanna know though.“

He shuddered a little while Marco was already biting off half of his buñuelo, slapping the table with the flat of his palm.

“This is so good,” he finally said, looking close to tears.

They laughed good-naturedly as Marco reached for a second, when his first one was still held in his other hand.

It looked and smelled a lot like the pastry they had baked back at home on special occasions. Hunk had even taken care of covering it with thin streaks of dark caramel. It was every bit as soft and tasty as it looked when she took her first bite, and she now understood Marco’s sudden outburst.

It was one of the few pieces of home she’d had in a few years.

“It’s really good,” she said, actually sniffling, making Lance laugh again.

“I know.”

They ate in silence, Lance closing the lid once they each had two (“So there is some for the others!” he had reprimanded Marco), and each taking a sip from their coffee.

Marco had been won over, obvious in how he kept pestering Lance with questions.

“Where did your friend even get all of the ingredients? Do they have a secret stash of cassava here on the base?”

“Once again: don’t ask me, ask Hunk. He can tell you.”

That had Veronica looking up, still cleaning her glasses with the hem of her shirt. Under the automated evening lights, Lance looked a little washed out. Now wonder, his day had been longer than hers, even without actually having spent that much of it outside of the base.

Now or never. She put her glasses back on, turning to Lance fully and garnering his attention at once.

“On that same matter, Lance,” and she almost did not say it, not when this would instantly break this small reprieve from their everyday lives, “you get along with your teammates, don’t you?”

For a few tense seconds it looked like she had broken Lance with her question.

His chuckles were filled with confusion and discomfort.

“What are you talking about? Of course we get along, we’re team Voltron after all.”

She could feel Marco’s nervousness as if it were her own. This was not going to be a nice conversation.

“I’m not merely asking about your cohesiveness as a team, I’m asking about your solidarity as a group of friends.”

Lance was already reclining back into his chair, his eyebrows going up as he stared at her in incomprehension, hands bracing against the edge of the table.

“Veronica, I’m really sorry, but I don’t know what you’re trying to get at.”

She was ready to retort, when Marco beat her to it.

“Are you really okay with your friends calling you dumb?”

She could not believe him. Veronica threw him a glare she hoped would melt his head off but Marco just returned hers without any remorse.

Their attention was drawn back to Lance as he waved his hands around.

“Woah, woah, hold on a tick! What’s this about? And what’s up with you anyway!” He addressed Marco directly, irritation palpable in his voice.

“This is not some kind of joke Lance,” Veronica interjected, giving her younger brother a stern look that threw him off, “You know I’ve been listening to you for a while over your channels, and I admit that I… do not entirely approve of what I’ve heard so far.”

It was more than just “not merely approving” but there was no need to rile Lance up further. If he was any bit as protective of team Voltron as he was of them, there would be no getting through to him by accusing them of anything.

Still, Lance’s eyes moved from her to Marco quickly, obviously not understanding or accepting what was happening right now.

Finally, and sadly, he leaned back with his arms crossed. She wanted to hit Marco for his blunder. This was now going to be harder than ever.

“My relationship with my team is great. What do you even mean by the stuff you heard?”

Band-aid it was then. Quick and painful.

“I am not okay with my brother being repeatedly told and treated as an idiot.”

Hurt flashed across Lance’s face at that but what really caught Veronica’s attention was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. So he was not as unaware as he pretended to be.

He swallowed dryly, hunching in on himself, his eyes shielded by his brown locks with how much he’d lowered his head.

His words were so low she almost did not catch them.

“Doesn’t matter.”

She was ready to explode from tension alone at this point.

“It does, Lance. It matters to me and everyone else!”

She had not meant to shout but this was just too much. Both Lance and Marco jerked in their seats at her outburst. The defiance he had previously shown was quickly bleeding out of Lance, as he made himself even smaller. He suddenly looked like he’d aged at least a decade.

Still, he said nothing, not in his defense nor of his friends. Just sat here with them; a tense silence consuming them all.

Marco was careful in pushing his chair away as he got up. Veronica was unsure what he wanted to do, knowing Marco he might either stay or leave to fight this battle another day.

Relief flooded her when instead of going to the door, Marco circled the table and before Lance could even react, had their brother enveloped in a tight hug. It was a little awkward, Marco having bent down his bulk to embrace Lance while the latter’s arms hovered in the air a little uselessly, blinking back at Veronica in confusion.

Marco was not really a man of words, and Veronica not someone who sprung into action easily. But maybe, with their forces combined, they might be able to get through to him.

“Lance,” she said quietly, her calm voice having her brother glance at her with his still bewildered expression, “I know you really love your friends, but that is no excuse for them to walk all over you when they hurt you. Even if they do it unintentionally.”

He was enraptured by her face, not even caring about the tears undoubtedly clouding his vision.

Time to put her cards on the table.

“I would feel better knowing that, if you go back up there again, you do it with people that respect you and your boundaries.”

There was no more holding back the tears. Lance’s entire face crumbled, one of many small sobs bursting out of him as he kept staring at Veronica pleadingly, his arms at once clinging to Marco so tightly he might leave bruises.

Not that Marco minded, Veronica could see Lance’s jacket straining a little with how tightly he was winding his arms around him.

Veronica settled with smiling at them fondly.

One step at a time while the clock kept on ticking.

[destielfanfic]

Unofficial Rec Bulletin #171

More info about the bulletin here. We are not currently accepting submitted recs. Link to previous bulletins.

Contents:

Fic Recs:

Heaven is a Kiss and a Smile 

House & Home

In Your Sweet Little Bungalow

What Happened in Vegas

Other Recs/Promos:

DeanCas Big Bang 2017 (DCBB)

DeanCas Secret Santa Exchange

DeanCas Tropefest 2017

PSA: Save Your Favs

The SPN Holiday Mixtape

Fic Recs:

Heaven is a Kiss and a Smile by WinJennster [NC-17, 38,000 word count]

(au, fluff, pining!dean, 2014!cas, stripper!cas, smart!dean, roommates, abusive family, charlie, drugs, meddling!sam, mary, !samjess, bottom!dean, challenge fic) recced by kyrie101

Dean’s life is well ordered. He’s successful and happy - at least, that’s what he keeps telling himself.When his little brother slash roommate moves out to live with his fiancé, Dean’s faced with living alone. Sam recommends his TA, Cas Novak, for Dean’s new roommate. Dean happily accepts, relieved that he doesn’t have to go through the trouble of finding a new roommate himself. Only Cas moves in with a stripper pole. Because apparently, his hotter than hell new roommate is a professional stripper. Who managed to see Dean in purple panties his first night in the house.Cas is probably going to shake up Dean’s entire world - and Dean just might let him.

House & Home by G33kDiva and palominopup [NC-17, 127,000 word count]

(au, fluff, angst, slow building romance, rom com, sex then love, enemies to lovers, snarky!cas, celebrity, bottom!dean, bottom!cas, meddling!sam, jealous!cas, ask about reality TV) recced by kyrie101

Sam Winchester was in trouble. His job with a popular home improvement network was in jeopardy unless he could come up with a new show that would boost ratings. He needed new talent that would invite more viewers. Enter his brother, Dean, a lewd, loud carpenter, who looked like an underwear model and Castiel Novak, a hot-headed interior decorator that catered to the rich . The two men were to take a rundown home and turn it into a showplace. At the end of each season, the house would be given away in a big contest. But, they had to finish it first, without killing each other in the process. The first day on set sparks flew, but not the good kind. The two men hated each other. Sam just knew they’d have to pull the show after its pilot episode aired and he’d be back to making commercials about genital herpes. But the viewers loved it. The emails and tweets about the two men required the network to hire more people just to keep up with them. The snarky comments, the glaring looks and the sexual tension shot the show to the Number One position. Then one night after filming, the months of tension exploded into hot, angry sex. Something changed between the two men and the viewers couldn’t stop tweeting about it.

In Your Sweet Little Bungalow by annodominique [NC-17, 13,700 word count]

(su, fluff, reunion, fallen!cas, !casother, bottom!cas, pining!cas,  domestic, jealous!dean, pining!dean, happy canon, ask about life after Sam died) recced by flyingcatstiel

All things considered, Castiel has a house. All things considered, Castiel has life. Without Dean.  It has been seven years since Sam died, seven years since Dean left Castiel, broken and human, and disconnected from humanity. Cas had to cope on his own somewhere along the way. He chose a little town of Oregon to settle in.  Seven years, and Dean shows up at his door on a chilly February night, saying the stupidest set of words to ever be said to Castiel's face.  "I was--just passing by the neighborhood. Thought I'd drop by...to see you."  And Cas doesn't know what to do.

What Happened in Vegas by Ltleflrt [NC-17, 18,400 word count]

(au, fluff, road trip, teacher!dean, artist!cas, secret affair, bottom!dean, bottom!cas, !sameillen, feelings recovery, challenge fic) recced by flyingcatstiel

Long time friends Dean and Castiel are road tripping from Chicago to San Diego for Sam and Eileen’s wedding, and a pitstop in Las Vegas turns into drunken love confessions and a surprise marriage. Turns out the pining has been mutual this whole time, but now they’re finally together and on cloud-fucking-nine. Until they remember that this trip isn’t supposed to be about them. To avoid undermining Sam and Eileen’s important weekend, they decide to keep their new relationship status a secret. They’ll keep the heart eyes toned down and their hands to themselves, but the struggle is real.

Other Recs/Promos:

DeanCas Big Bang 2017

The Dean Cas Big Bang for 2017 is now over! This was the first year the challenge was run on tumblr. Be sure to send your love to the mods who did an amazing job at promoting fics on tumblr and twitter this year. The master list will be out soon, and until then be sure to check out all the fics on the Official DCBB 2017 AO3 Collection. 

DeanCas Secret Santa Exchange

Yes, the Dean/Cas Secret Santa Exchange will be happening this year! Assignments are due January 4th and posting will be happening in January. Find more details at LiveJournal here and at their collection on AO3. 

DeanCas Tropefest 2017

The Dean/Cas Tropefest is a big-bang style challenge for experienced fic writers & artists that features all your favorite tropes. The challenge is now over, so check out all the amazing works on their Master List and the collection on AO3!

PSA: Save Your Favs

We have been saying this a lot recently. Many authors have been either moving on or switching fandoms and in some cases they are deleting past works. This is a reminder to all, that if you want ePubs and PDFs save them while you can.

The SPN Holiday Mixtape

This advent-inspired seasonal challenge brings us stories with a holiday musical theme. Fics are posting NOW!! Check out their tumblr and AO3 collection.

[bestonlinemarketingcompany]

What Is Paid Social Media Marketing (SMM)

Back in the early days of social media, when everybody still “poked” each other on Facebook and VR was just a glimmer in some developer’s eye, the process of using it for marketing was direct and easy to grasp. It could be difficult to master completely, sure, but it was cost-effective to start and just about every element made sense, whether you had an MBA or not.

You used Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, or LinkedIn to build up an audience. You carried out a conversation with that audience by posting photos, links, videos, status updates. You made impressions, spread your brand narrative, and drove referral traffic to your website. You responded to customer feedback when it came up.

And you did all of these things organically – meaning that you didn’t have to pay a fee to the social network of your choice to reach your audience.

While it’s still technically to free to start using social media for marketing purposes, the reality is that the game has changed. Organic reach, once the end-all and be-all for social marketers, has rapidly trended toward zero on Facebook, while algorithmic changes to Twitter and Instagram make it increasingly hard for your content to stand out.

Meanwhile, social media networks have consistently been rolling out paid advertising tools, bringing them more in line with conventional marketing platforms such as TV or print. In other words, brands have increasingly had to “pay to play” on platforms that were once ostensibly free.

So, in some ways, you could say that organic social media marketing is on its way out, and paid social media marketing is in.

To put it most simply, paid social media marketing (SMM) is a digital marketing method wherein you pay to promote your ads or branded content on a social network, such as Facebook or Twitter.

That’s it, in a nutshell. Sounds simple enough – and, in a lot of ways, it is actually a fairly straightforward process. But that snappy definition doesn’t necessarily tell the whole story about paid SMM. About where it’s been and where it’s going. About what it can accomplish for your brand. About how you can put it to work right now.

So let’s break it down a little bit more. Here are the three big things you need to know about paid SMM for your brand:

1.) Everybody’s Doing It

At the risk of sounding like a peer-pressuring bully in a PSA, the simple fact is that paid SMM is ascendant – and if you want your brand to see the benefits of social media marketing, you’re going to have to be able to keep up with your competitors, who may well already be using paid SMM to drive traffic, increase conversion rates, and stoke conversation around their brand.

2.) It Offers Remarkable Capabilities

If you’re hesitant to invest in social media marketing, there are a few things to keep in mind – which could be enough to swing you one way or the other.

Whether you want to…

• increase your overall audience by securing likes or followers

• increase the number of people who are seeing and engaging with your brand

• drive more referral traffic to your website

• make more direct sales

… there’s a paid SMM campaign option right for you.

Even better, social networks – particularly Facebook – offer a wide array of tools that improve your ability to reach the right audience, increasing the likelihood that you’ll see your desired ROI. Using native SMM tools, you can target highly specific audiences based on location, age, or interests, for example; you can also start with what we call “remarketing” (or “retargeting”), which allows you to appeal directly to consumers who have already visited your website or otherwise shown interest in your brand.

And, finally, there are paid SMM options right for just about every budget. Getting started with marketing on Facebook can take as little as a few dollars per day; conversely, you can spend thousands to reach your potential audience, if you so choose. The sky’s the limit, but the barrier to entry is still mercifully low.

With that said, however…

3.) There’s An Art to Getting It Right

While it may only take a few dollars to get started with paid SMM, the reality is that actually executing it to a highly successful degree is far trickier, and requires a more sophisticated and specialized set of skills.

To begin with, it’s vital to realize that every social media platform is different. Every network has a distinct audience that it serves best, has a set of social media goals that it’s the best for achieving, and, above all, has different standards and protocols for images, text, budgeting, and so on. An image that looks great in a Facebook ad, for instance, may be all wrong for Twitter, where images with text are more acceptable – and actually may perform better.

It’s those little quirks and details that add up. Similarly, some of the more advanced elements of paid SMM – daily budgeting, audience targeting, analytics monitoring, integrating tracking tools on your website – can be complex. Getting these little things right is hugely important for maximizing your campaign’s potential for success. Narrowing your audience ever so slightly, or taking the time to A/B test an ad, could mean the difference between a huge surge in traffic and a little one. Taking the time to install Facebook Pixel code on your website could make all the difference between understanding why your SMM is working, or continuing to just take shots in the dark.

Curious about some of our past results with paid SMM? Ready to talk shop? We’re here to help! Drop us a line today to get the conversation started!

For more details on our products and services, please feel free to visit us at Best Online Marketing Company New Delhi, Online Marketing Companies New Delhi, Internet Marketing New Delhi, Online Marketing Companies India, Best Online Marketing Company

[sartle-blog]

Important conversations at the de Young

You can be part of it right now with the opening of the groundbreaking exhibition, Revelations: Art from the African American South on view until April 1, 2018.

Once again, the de Young is soaring to new and exciting heights in both their exhibitions and comprehensive collection of American Art (we get it already— you’re great). We’re not really complaining though, because what they’ve cooked up this time is a very necessary breath of fresh air.

This exhibition celebrates the de Young’s major acquisition of 62 works from contemporary African American artists from the Southern United States. The pieces came into the museum’s possession just four months ago, via The Souls Grown Deep Foundation in Atlanta, and the exhibition opens early this month. It only took them FOUR months to put together a comprehensive, thoughtful exhibition that spans seven galleries. In other words, they needed to get a move on, and coincidentally, so do you if you want to see this landmark exhibition.

Serious moment alert!

These galleries highlight a visual language that was established by a group that was being oppressed and stripped of basic human rights, and so they chose creation as a way to cope with the injustices they were facing everyday. Today, these works celebrate the resiliency of the human spirit and of people that, despite adversity, have held tight to their values and culture; they give a voice back to those who historically weren't given the privilege of speaking up. There may be graphic or disturbing imagery for some folks so fair warning. ~Okay, serious moment over~

Revelations has a little bit of everything: sculpture, textiles, assemblage (hoity toity term for putting a bunch of 3-D objects on a canvas), you name it. However, since it debuts some lesser known artists, it may be hard to wrangle your squad into going with you to see it, especially when you’re competing with Munch at the SFMOMA and Dorothea Lange across the bay at the Oakland Museum, but fight the museum fatigue(!) because we can say with confidence that this show is not to be missed (for starters, it’s the first of its kind in the area— a de Young™ original). Although there may be some coercing required to make the journey over to the park, you mustn't fear, as I’m here to come to your rescue by putting faces to names and giving you the top reasons that you should get in the car—or bike, walk, cable car, whatever works—and GO, GO, GO to the de Young immediately.

1. There’s an artist you may not have heard of whose work is beyond mesmerizing.

Thornton Dial, Sr. is often compared to Jackson Pollock for his erratic, splish splash painting style and “leave it all on the canvas” attitude. It’s not necessarily fair, however, to say that Pollock influenced Dial’s contemporary pieces, as the latter has always made a point of staying blissfully unaware of the history of art. When he first started out, he felt that he was just making "things."

10 points to whoever can tell me what this is made out of.

*drum roll* wood, wire, chair caning and cloth. Dial really takes the “where’s waldo” approach and makes you dig deep to figure out his pieces. The coolest part about them? They are SO fun to look at. It’s hard to tell unless you see them in person, but these sculpture-painting hybrids seem ready to jump off of the wall and I had the absolute hardest time reigning in my impulse to touch them. PSA: Don't touch the art, unfortunately.

New Light (2004) was made in reference to the sad fact that African American communities in the South were some of the last ones to receive basic utilities like electricity (Dial didn't see it until he was ten years old). The foundational structure of a picket fence symbolizes segregation and life in rural Alabama. The electrical wire that he’s attached in an almost bird’s nest clump, again, represents this glaring inequality as well as the relief that they felt when electricity was installed, finally making it possible for young children to do their homework in the light.

2. You may or may not see some real skeletons

No actual cows were harmed in the making.

In case you didn't catch our Instagram story from the press preview, I thought I should let you know about this striking piece that also made me slightly squeamish. This is the work of Thornton Dial again but in 360 degrees. Tada! He didn't only do sculptural-painting-sculptures, but also real sculpture-sculptures...Uhh anyway, this piece is made from real cow bones that he painted white before mounting them together into this composite sculpture, Lost Cows (2000-2001). It also includes such objects as golf balls, bags, mirrors, and enamel. 

Dial drew this broad theme of life and death from his childhood working on a farm. There's a human skeletal form in the back that struggles to control his herd of white cows, representing how the white man would have been lost without African Americans to be the laborers, cooks etc.

Hey lil' buddies, photo via de Young 

3. You’ve never seen quilts as colorful as these

Fiber arts meets smooth jazz riffs, image via Souls Grown Deep 

The exhibition also highlights the strong tradition of quilt making that developed around 1859 in Gee's Bend, a small rural town in Alabama, and incorporated pieces of everyday life.

This quilt, Bars and String-Pieced Columns (1950s), was made by Jessie T. Pettway, aka Bootnie, who learned quilt making at a young age from her aunt. Fabric was scarce, so they used whatever they could scrounge up—old khaki t-shirts and torn-up overalls—which often ended up being clothes that they wore while working in the fields. She almost never used patterns. Instead, she improvised her vibrant compositions, asserting that, "[she] couldn't buy pretty materials, so [she] couldn't make pretty patterns." Fun fact: this quilt was featured on a 2006 postage stamp commemorating the Gee's bend quilters. 

4. Or quilts used to make prints

This is not a quilt. (lol @ Duchamp jokes), photo via Artsy

It is, in fact, just an impression of a quilt. More specifically, this is a print that was made by sewing a miniature quilt, pressing the surface down into a soft ground, and then coloring it. This took an already very familiar medium and elevated it to an entirely new level of abstract, colorful goodness. This process was actually initiated by Pam Paulson, a Berkeley artist who brought a few of these master quilt makers to her studio to introduce them to printmaking in 2005.

Lonnie Holley made the print featured above, Coming out of the Redwoods, after a 2013 trip to the redwoods in Humboldt, CA (not too far from the Sartle office in SF!). Holley took this process a step further by incorporating found objects and scraps that he found inside and outside of the printmaking studio.

5. There’s an El Anatsui

Enough said— those sultry, undulating golden hills are enough to get me off of the couch any day, any time. Go see this beaut, Hover II (2004), in person today!

If this wasn't convincing, you can check out the digital preview on the de Young's website. I can't stress enough how poignant this exhibition is, as it debuts an entire group of American artists that have been otherwise ignored by the strong arm of art history. We're (re) writing history here, folks!

Let us know what stands out to you by tagging us in your photos from the exhibition on Twitter with @sartle or Instagram with @sartle.arthistory. We can't wait to hear what you think!

Photos and text by Rose  

By: Rose Cannon